The Seventh Continent

The film opens with a seemingly ordinary day inside the family's home, highlighting sterilized routines and a growing sense of tedium. The sequences are largely wordless, emphasizing atmosphere over dialogue. A voiceover from the wife reads a letter to the husband's parents, telling them of his success at work.

The day unfolds through meticulous, repetitive tasks that underscore their detachment from ordinary life. Small actions are filmed with clinical restraint, deepening the sense of unease toward modern society. The couple moves through the day with almost ritualized precision.

In 1988, another day repeats the same patterns of quiet routines and minimal dialogue, reinforcing the family's estrangement. Once again, the wife delivers a voiceover letter to the husband's parents about his professional success. The scene maintains a largely wordless, observational tone.

The third part begins with the family leaving the grandparents' home after a visit, signaling a shift from outward calm to inward crisis. The departure hints at a breaking point and a looming sense of irrevocable change. The mood remains restrained and precise.

Georg narrates a letter written the following day announcing that he and his wife have resigned from their jobs and decided to leave. The sequence shows clips of quitting, closing their bank accounts, and telling a bank clerk they are emigrating to Australia. They also discuss selling the car and buying a variety of cutting tools for the journey.

Georg reflects that it was a hard decision whether to take their daughter Eva, but they decide to include her after she says she is not afraid of death. The choice reframes the departure as a family project rather than a mere escape. The moment tightens the family's bond against an unknown fate.

The family shares a rare, luxurious meal together, a contrast to their earlier austerity. A phone call arrives, and they deliberately leave the line dangling to prevent further interruptions. The scene underscores their detachment and willingness to sever ordinary comforts.

They begin destroying every possession in the house in a methodical, almost automatic fashion, speaking little as they go. The act is chilling in its restraint, revealing a ritualistic severing of ties with the material world. The atmosphere remains cold, controlled, and eerily calm.

The only overt emotion erupts when Georg shatters the large fish tank, provoking Eva's hysterical crying as the dying fish float around. This moment crystallizes the family's bottled-up feelings spilling into a single devastating act. The scene contrasts with the earlier clinical tone.

While destroying the house, the phone company arrives and insists the line be restored. Georg mutes the bells with cotton to avoid interruption, maintaining the already controlled environment. The tension grows as external intrusion clashes with internal emptiness.

They self-administer overdoses of pills dissolved in water, with Eva and Anna dying first, followed by Georg who injects himself after vomiting. Before dying, Georg writes the names, dates, and times of death for all three on the wall, leaving a question mark for his own. An envelope addressed to his parents is taped to the door as a final message.

In the quiet aftermath, Georg lies beside the corpses and watches the TV's static as brief flashes of the film suggest life passing before his eyes. The room remains unnervingly calm, with the only movement the flicker of the screen. The moment seals the irreversible finality of the events.

Text at the film's end notes that, despite a suicide note, Georg's parents suspect homicide and a police investigation was conducted. No evidence of murder is found, leaving the true cause open to interpretation. The closing line emphasizes the tragedy's unresolved, enigmatic nature.