A young laboratory assistant (Naemi Latzer) is summoned to serve as a juror in the trial of a serial killer who shot his victims for no apparent reason. The court questions the defendant’s mental competence, yet the jury ultimately dismisses the psychological report. The film’s protagonist leads an ordinary life in a small Austrian town, navigating the gray routines of her workdays. During smoke breaks with colleagues, she discusses the chilling details of this high-profile crime, and the mundane evenings at home with her husband (Lukas Walcher). He harbours dark secrets, it seems. On weekends, they visit the husband’s mother, a woman proud of her daughter-in-law’s dedication to justice. In passionate dialogues, mother and son denounce both the perpetrator and the system that allowed such crimes to occur.

The protagonist – like nearly all characters in the film, remains unnamed – also participates in an interview with a sociologist fascinated by criminal behaviour and, more specifically, society’s perceived right to revenge. Matthias van Baaren’s debut feature explores familiar themes in Austrian cinema: the quiet perversions of the bourgeoisie. In a manner reminiscent of the film Veni Vedi Vichi (Daniel Hoesl and Julia Niemann, 2024), Light, No Light interrogates the morality of siding with the criminal, asking whether society should empathise with the perpetrator.

Van Baaren’s approach is more fragmented and elliptical than his contemporaries’. He leaves deliberate gaps in the narrative, relying on silences and ellipses in order to convey tension. The husband, for instance, is often shown smoking in his car late at night, a quiet figure whose intentions remain opaque. At times, the film hints that he could, in a thriller-like twist, be capable of violence himself, yet van Baaren never confirms or denies these suspicions. The audience is left to wonder and speculate, creating a sense of unease and prolonged reflection on human motives.

The film’s visual style reinforces this uncertainty. The cinematography alternates between tightly framed interiors and austere urban landscapes, reflecting the psychological confinement of the characters. Van Baaren often lingers on small gestures – a sideways glance, a hand gripping a cigarette – so that mundane moments become charged with latent menace, never showing the courtroom scenes.

Light, No Light challenges the traditional moral binaries of Austrian cinema, which often gravitates toward stark, almost ritualised depictions of guilt and transgression, as seen in the works of Michael Haneke or Ulrich Seidl. Van Baaren instead offers ambiguity: every character is partially opaque, every action morally negotiable. The juror herself is caught between empathy and duty, personal reflection and societal expectation, allowing the viewer to inhabit her moral conflict.

Dialogue and sound design contribute to the film’s introspective tone. Conversations are sometimes stilted, reflecting the constraints of social politeness, yet every word carries weight. The ambient sounds of a quiet town create a pervasive tension, as if even the ordinary world carries undercurrents of danger. This stylistic choice reinforces the theme that horror is not only in violent acts but also in the subtle, unnoticed failures of human systems.

Ultimately, Light, No Light is both a study of character and a meditation on moral judgment. It invites viewers to sit with uncertainty, to question assumptions about justice and culpability, and to consider the limits of human understanding. It is a rare film that combines intellectual rigour with suspenseful storytelling, balancing quiet observation with an undercurrent of dread. By refusing to offer easy resolutions, van Baaren crafts a cinematic experience that lingers, challenging the audience long after the credits roll.

In an Austrian cinematic landscape often dominated by stark explorations of darkness and perversion, Light No Light offers an unexpected detour. This is a thoughtful, psychological, and morally probing film. Austrian cinema has abundant room for subtlety, ambiguity, and complex character studies.

Light, No Light showed at Diagonale, the Festival of Austrian Film, held annually in Graz.