First comes the grumbling, then the moral

Oasch. says Moritz. Everything pretty oash. He's pretty grumpy anyway. Like someone whose time is running out, who no longer understands time. "That's it," says Meret, the young assistant, who is constantly being bossed around by Moritz in such a way that maybe that's why she sits with the psychologist where we meet her at the beginning, "that's of course the total policeman cliché. The two who have already seen everything. The cynical Moritz and the Bibi who switched to Teflon.”

Meret feels like a simultaneous translator for the two old people. For us, watching the two grumblers from the "Tatort" police station in Vienna on their 30th case trying to catch the guy who butchered Marlon.

Marlon, who constantly optimizes himself, the other optimizes. Marlon, whom everyone loved, who was an ideal co-worker, an ideal lover, an ideal son. And who wasn't all that. And Moritz (Harald Krassnitzer) and Bibi (Adele Neuhauser) are gradually running out of suspects. Which is why the whole case is pretty oasch.

Of course he isn't. In the past he might have gotten really oasch. Because of course Marlon is an Oasch. At least for Sunday evening thrillers that have their hearts on the right moral and anti-capitalist side. Above all, Marlon optimized ailing companies, a solutions expert, someone who came up with solutions that, for quite a few employees who had sacrificed decades of their lives for their job, meant that they were left with no solutions. Marlon was a smart unwinder.

In the past, that would have been enough for a left-wing horror trip told in a straight line into the supposed heart of modern capitalism. But everything was easier then. What Stefan Hafner and Thomas Weingartner, who wrote the book for "What is that for a world", think of what Marlon and the colleagues who admired him for his creativity in handling are doing becomes sufficiently clear.

They still stick with the club of moralism and hide their attitude in the labyrinth of walkways with a fairly perfectly constructed plot. In any case, there will never be a reckoning – contrary to its suggestive title – “What kind of a world is that”.

Shortly before that, Marlon had almost been thrown off his bike and into his grave by a car - Marlon lives in a soul silo and is a member of the Dynamo Neubau. His girlfriend, with whom he had a closer relationship than she likes to admit. "Fuck relationship, amour fou, friends with benefits - take your pick of what we had." Let's call it love.

Too bad the father was one of the victims of the optimizer of her heart. He had a colleague who, simply because of his extreme sleaze, makes himself highly suspicious. A mother who has severe dementia, although she has barely reached fifty, a genetic defect that Marlon also has, which is why he is manic and, as in "Memento", documents everything, himself, his life, the people around him. He has a boss who could go down in “Tatort” history as the weirdest of all arch-capitalists.

And then there is Meret (Christina Scherrer). She hasn't been Moritz and Bibi's assistant for long. But this whole narrative world now depends on it. She laments, analyzing her way backwards through the case. It jumps happily through time, rewinds. That's a lot of fun.

Evi Romen, who directs, changes the perspectives, the narrative styles, brings Meret's face to the screen that fills the living room, lets her tell how it was with the cynic and the Teflon woman. A self-explanatory attempt by the slimy colleague suddenly turns into a promotional video for the beautiful job of the solution finder.

It's not easy. Especially not. It's a sometimes quite funny treatise on work and what we assign importance to it. About the generations between which a Mariana Trench-deep hole gapes for a halfway intact communication. And about how the whole disaster could perhaps be solved without an accident.

The slow story of the gradual farewell to Moritz and Bibi. They're sitting on a bench in front of a hospital, it's night over Vienna. Suddenly everything is possible, they talk about old age and what else you could do. You could do it. Moritz was never so “spreadable”. They get close. You let it be. Maybe better like this.

We wish them all the best for the further investigation.