The harrowing death of a pet cat marks the turning point in this disturbing piece of arthouse cinema, but it’s hard to care about the bereaved owners

Dangerously flirting with stereotypes perpetuated by the media and Austrian arthouse cinema itself, this Vienna-set film explores how brutal, inexplicable violence may lurk beneath the surface of even the most idyllic, hyper-bourgeois lifestyle.

Orchestral administrator Andreas (Philipp Hochmair) and his partner, French-horn player Stefan (Lukas Turtur), live and work together in seemingly perfect harmony. In their beautiful, light-filled home, they regularly entertain friends with delicious meals, make tender, playful love to jazz music, and caper about naked, occasionally pausing to caress and cuddle their handsome tabby cat Moses, who chose to live with them some time ago. More fool, Moses.

One day, Stefan intentionally snaps the cat’s neck, killing him for reasons unknown even to himself, a harrowing moment any animal lover ought to know is coming in advance, should they choose to see this film.

Psychologically, there’s perhaps something in the situation that’s worth exploring, but director Händl Klaus so attenuates the already thin plot material that after a while it’s hard to care about these guys. End credits offer reassurance than no animals were harmed in the making of the film, but that doesn’t make the act of violence represented any less disturbing.