Artikel-Schlagworte: „Kritik“

Guttenbergs Kirschgarten

Guttenberg tritt wieder auf: diesmal, um den „Kirschgarten“ zu kritisieren.

Es gibt viel zu lachen, bei einer an Symbolen reichen Inszenierung, die albern, langweilig, langatmig, ohne Pause ist. Doch irgendwie fehlt diesem „Kirschgarten“ das Herz. Alle tanzen, springen in die Luft, fallen hin, reißen andere mit zu Boden, hüpfen, lachen, saufen, rennen ziellos vom Irgendwo ins Nirgendwo und tanzen im Kreis herum. Henkel zeigt die Figuren des Kirschgartens als zahnlose Vampire, als Blutsauger, denen die Opfer ausgegangen sind. Eine gute Entscheidung: Vampire, wie wir alle wissen, machen immer am Ende Spaß.

We just want to play

When you open your festival with a three-hour stream-of-consciousness deluge of text, tragedy, and water, what can possibly follow? The Theatertreffen’s answer: Bring in its opposite. Der Biberpelz (The Beaver Coat), the second invited production in the program, is an 80-minute comedy directed by the darling of this year’s Theatertreffen, the twiceinvited Herbert Fritsch. But what is the thesis of this Jelinek/Beier antithesis?

Herbert Fritsch makes no secret of his primary motivation as a director: During the Theatertreffen press conference, in interviews with Theater heute, our bloggers, and more, he is fond of saying that directing, for him, is about the fun. It is another form of playing — in that special way that the German word for „to play,“ spielen, also means „to act.“ Fritsch’s Der Biberpelz, invited to this year’s Theatertreffen from the Mecklenburgisches Staatstheater Schwerin, is one big Spiel.

The ensemble of Der Biberpelz. Foto: Silke Winkler

A game would be nothing without its players, and it is indeed the cast of Der Biberpelz that deserves first mention. The Wolff family (Stéphane Maeder’s rock-dumb father Julius, Isa Weiß and Sonja Isemer’s bickering swindlers-in-training Leontine and Adelheid, and Brigitte Peters‘ masterminding matriarch Mother Wolffen), their cohorts and antagonists form an ensemble tumbling over itself to top its own impressive intensity, physicality, and speed. With their grotesque grimaces and colorful costumes, the characters might be the rejects of any number of cult movies (where an impressive ensemble performance is also, as a rule, the number one draw). But my favorite character in the play is one that gets no credit in the cast list: the wall. (mehr …)

Saying No in a Yes-world

Retweet, share, rate, join, check in, like: we live in a time of constant affirmation. But what does all this „yes“ mean without a little „no“?

At the Schlingensief Seminar held at Hebbel am Ufer 3 on Monday, Johannes Hoff (a Catholic theologian with whom Christoph Schlingensief shared a “lively exchange of thoughts about last things and last questions”) and Carl Hegemann (the friend and dramaturg who put the two in contact) talked about Schlingensief’s search for ways to come to terms with death during his struggle with cancer. Acceptance is loss’s clichéd little brother, a familiar trope in discussions like this, but a different spin on this idea of acceptance also kept popping up between Hoff and Hegelmann: To be ready to die, you have to consider everything to be egal, the same –- life and death, traditional notions of good and evil, what makes a good life or a bad one. And you can achieve that egalitary perspective by saying “yes” to everything.

A simple enough statement: Always say “yes.” It’s a word that comes easy in a world that seems to want nothing more from us than yes, yes, yes. From the “Like” function on Facebook to the yes-I-am-here mentality driving foursquare, we seem to be in a constant state of affirmation: seeking something to affirm, hoping that someone else will affirm us. (mehr …)