This is where you live.

Before the first frame, there was one question: Who actually decides here, and what is that person afraid of?

Most of the time, it isn’t the people who need care. It’s their adult children, in the middle of their careers and their own family lives. Their real fear isn’t the quality of care. It runs deeper: “I’m taking Mom’s home away from her.”

That became the guiding idea: It’s not about care. It’s about home.

The contrast with a nursing home rests on a single word. At the very end, the mother says: „Hier bin ich nicht untergebracht. Hier wohne ich.“ (“I’m not housed here. I live here.”) On screen, “untergebracht” (housed, placed) gets crossed out. That’s the entire positioning in one sentence, without attacking anyone. Going after nursing homes would have felt cheap, and it would have hit exactly the families who have already chosen one.

• Name: the Spree, the river that runs through Cottbus, plus Herz, German for heart. Local, warm, easy to remember.
• Logo: a heart drawn with a single line, with the Spree inside it as a wave. In the film, it draws itself.
• Tagline: „Hier wohnt man.“ (“This is where you live.”) It picks up the film’s punchline and turns it into the brand promise.
• Colors: cream, espresso, honey and sage. Homey, and deliberately far from clinical white and blue.
• Type: a soft serif (Fraunces) for emotion and quotes, Inter for facts.
• Imagery: a warm grade with fine grain. Polaroids, line drawings and floor plans instead of a stock-photo look.

The voices are in German. We quote them in the original and add an English translation.

Two voices carry the film. The daughter tells the story, because she is the one sitting in front of the screen who has to decide. Erika, the mother, gets the first and the last word.

Comfort. A cream background, and in large serif type: Zuhause (home). Three line drawings draw themselves, labeled “mein Sessel,” “mein Kuchen,” “meine Leute” (my armchair, my cake, my people). Erika: „Zuhause … das ist mein Sessel. Mein Kuchen. Meine Leute.“ (“Home … that’s my armchair. My cake. My people.”)

The break. A hard cut to darkness: a lamp, an empty chair, a silent room. „Das hat Mama immer gesagt. Und dann kam der Tag, an dem es allein nicht mehr ging.“ (“That’s what Mom always said. And then the day came when she couldn’t manage on her own anymore.”)

The search. A search bar. Someone types Pflege für Mama – wie geht es weiter? (care for Mom – what now?). Three results appear, and the third one lights up: Spreeherz – Pflege-WG in Cottbus. „Und ich hab mich gefragt: Wie soll das jetzt weitergehen?“ (“And I asked myself: what happens now?”)

Relief. A dark wooden door swings open, warm light floods the room, and the camera flies through. Behind it, the logo draws itself. „Dann haben wir Spreeherz gefunden.“ (“Then we found Spreeherz.”) On a hand-drawn city map, the Spree flows by, and a pin with a heart lands right on „mitten“ (right in the middle): „Eine Pflege-WG, mitten in Cottbus.“ (“A shared care home, right in the middle of Cottbus.”)

Proof. A floor plan draws itself, “Mamas Zimmer” (Mom’s room) lights up, the camera zooms in, and the plan turns into a real room: Eigenes Zimmer (her own room), Eigene Möbel (her own furniture). Back on the floor plan, the kitchen, with Polaroids: “Kaffee um drei” (coffee at three), “Sonntagskuchen” (Sunday cake). A 24-hour ring fills up, and next to it a heart beats: Pflege rund um die Uhr. Und trotzdem: zuhause. (Care around the clock. And still: at home.) A Polaroid of a visit from the granddaughter, plus Besuch, wann ihr wollt (visit whenever you like) and Familie entscheidet mit (family has a say).

The punchline. Cake and coffee on the table. Erika: „Weißt du, Kind … hier bin ich nicht untergebracht. Hier wohne ich.“ (“You know, dear … I’m not housed here. I live here.”) A honey-colored stroke crosses out “untergebracht.” Below it, in large letters: Hier wohne ich.

The close. Logo, tagline and a row of facts: her own room · max. 12 residents · care 24/7 · long-term care insurance may contribute. Below that, a button: Kennenlerntag vereinbaren (book a get-to-know-us day). „Spreeherz. Pflege-WG in Cottbus. Hier wohnt man.“ (“Spreeherz. Shared care home in Cottbus. This is where you live.”) Finally, the card shrinks into a frame, our services appear around it, and then Motion ToGo.

The brand, the offer and the figures are made up for the concept.

• Identification instead of a sales pitch. The voiceover never addresses the viewer directly. The daughter tells her story, and anyone facing the same decision hears themselves.
• Specifics instead of superlatives. No “best care.” Instead: her own room, her own furniture, cooking together, care around the clock, visits whenever you like. Every detail answers a worry nobody says out loud.
• Flipping the loss. The fear is “Mom loses everything.” The film shows what she keeps: her room, her furniture, her cake, her people.
• Staging the relief. “Then we found Spreeherz” is a door that opens. Darkness turns into warm light.
• Answering objections up front. The end card covers the usual questions: how many residents, how much care, who helps pay.
• An easy first step. “Book a get-to-know-us day” instead of “Book now.” With a decision like this, the first step has to be small.
• It works without sound. The subtitles are burned in and appear word by word, and Erika’s lines are set large on screen. Lots of people watch social media on mute.

The music was composed for this film, for piano and strings, and it follows the story: bright at the start, sparse at the break, opening up when the door swings open. During Erika’s line, everything steps back, so the most important sentence gets the most room.

Every scene has its own soundscape, from the coffee cup to the ticking clock, the door and the heartbeat. Whenever someone speaks, the music and effects duck. We checked it the way we always do: our speech recognition understood the finished mix sentence by sentence.

Every animation lands on the spoken word. The pin drops the moment “mitten” appears in the subtitles. The film is rendered at 30 frames per second with real motion blur.

• Audience first, effects second. The guiding idea came from asking who decides and what that person is afraid of.
• Brand and film from one team. Name, logo, colors and tagline are part of the work, not an afterthought.
• Image, words and sound tell the story together. Every movement, every sound and every color serves the story.
• Speed you can’t see. From brief to finished film took less than 48 hours.