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Jeden Monat nähern sich unsere Kolumnisten, die Berliner Filme macher Each month our columnists, Berlin-based filmmakers Dominik and
Dominik und Benjamin Reding, dem jeweiligen Heftthema auf ihre ganz Benjamin Reding, approach the respective issue-specific theme in their
eigene Art und Weise. Geboren wurden die Zwillinge am 3. Ja nuar 1969 very personal way. The twins were born on January 3, 1969 in Dort-
in Dortmund. Während Dominik Architektur in Aachen und Film in Ham- mund. Whilst Dominik studied architecture in Aachen and film in Ham-
burg studierte, absolvierte Benjamin ein Schauspielstudium in Stuttgart. burg, Benjamin graduated in acting studies in Stuttgart. They started
1997 begann die Arbeit an ihrem ersten gemeinsamen Kinofilm „Oi! Warn- working on their first joint motion picture “Oi! Warning“ in 1997. Since
ing“. Seitdem arbeiten sie für Fernseh- und Kinofilmprojekte zusammen. then they have tightly collaborated for TV and cinema film projects.

S ometimes, when I hear the song “Nightswimming” by R.E.M., I become restless blast-furnace tapping in the steelwork. The start of the path to the Schallacker was
familiar to me: past the glittering slag heaps, past the gas pipelines, as wide and as
and nostalgic. And sometimes, as a columnist, I wonder whether something will
be understood, whether it is worthwhile telling things whichappear quite irrelevant, high as a twelve-ton truck; past the railway embankments with their rattling freight
stories without a significant point, without a turning point, without a dramatic high- trains which chased the stillness of the night away; also past the brewhouse of the
light, almost uneventful. Should I dare? And, sometimes, I think that wellness, that a brewery, the hall behind roof-high windowpanes brightly lit, nightshift. Then the path
“sense of well-being” – in as far as this sensation actually has something to do with became unfamiliar, unknown terrain: poplars, a sports field, a head-high fence. Delle
places – occurs quite rarely in hotel spas, vacation clubs, health resorts or even in sty- leapt over the fence with a single jump, then the two girls from the dance floor, the
lish medical practices where one, after all, only feels good if one can leave them again boys helped them, then Ricardia who didn’t want to be helped, and then I. Whew,
as quickly as possible. This is what I sometimes think. the jump succeeded, only just. Behind the fence, darkness. Then, once the eyes had
“Come along!” Ricardia was standing outside the disco, relaxing, sweating and smo- grown accustomed, diffuse lantern light and, still at a distance, ground mist that cur-
king. She was actually called Ricarda, but her friends added another “i”: Ricardia. She led in the night wind. Suddenly, almost arid, the smell of chlorine. What would hap-
pretended to be annoyed by this, but she liked to hear it. It sounded exotic. And now, pen if they caught us? But the group remained totally relaxed, they were laughing, tal-
at two o’clock in the morning, she shouted: “Come along, we are going to the Schal- king, smoking. They knew their way. Or not? With every step, the grounds were in-
lacker!” The dance hall was in the suburb, a scenery of black-crusted rental buildings creasingly reminding of steel, of pipelines, of fences. We were getting close to the
from the turn of the last but one century, often reduced by a few storeys, still with an steelwork, not a pool. And then, as suddenly as the smell of chlorine, there it was
emergency roof and bricked-up windows. Like old ahead of us, a luminous basin, small, almost too
dentures. And above the basement windows, one small for a public open-air pool. “Wow!” I said
could see white-plastered arrows and faded ins- and startled at my loud exclamation. Delle sat
criptions: “LSR”. Were one to ask the old people, down in the meadow, pressed “play” on the cas-
they explained: “Well, that means Luftschutzraum sette recorder: “Nightswimming” by R.E.M. Humid
[air-raid shelter]”, as casually as if it was nothing. from the night, the grass stuck to us, the boys were
And from these times of bombs, of rusty iron and murmuring softly with already real male voices
rough concrete, from this period was the Schal- and, in-between, like punctuations in a sentence,
lacker. “Come along!” The bass was booming, the the chuckling laughter of the girls. The boys took
light organ glinted, Ricardia had to holler. But she off the T-shirts, the gym shoes, the jeans, and there
didn’t mean me, she meant a gangly blond fellow, they stood, somewhat shy, in their underpants.
Delle, who was drinking his beer at the counter The girls were watching. One of them dove in, in
and whom everybody knew and many admired his underpants, from the edge of the basin. Ricar-
because he sprayed, the largest graffiti at the dia sat down next to Delle, he offered her a can of
main railway station. He nonchalantly finished beer and a light. And I was standing in trousers
his beer and got up. Followed by his entourage, and a T-shirt at the edge of the lawn, freezing, thin-
two fellows who played in bands and two girls, king of the test and the night bus. Changing buses
who had danced beautifully. I had already heard twice … or three times? There, in the bushes! A mo-
of the Schallacker. A remaining plot between Foto: Benjamin Reding vement! I held my breath, even the others fell si-
blast furnaces and rolling mills, so ridiculously ta- lent. A guard? Police? Pool attendant? Ghosts? No,
pered that even the most cunning civil engineer three rabbits. The water shimmered, the wind
couldn’t build a factory there. A railway embankment on the left, straight ahead a rail- made the poplars rustle, the song from the cassette recorder. “The fear of getting
way bridge, on the right cooling towers on a knoll and, behind it, above everything, caught, of recklessness and water … they cannot see me naked … nightswimming.”
the gas- and steam pipelines of the steelwork opposite. A concrete rectangle marked First the T-Shirt, then the trousers, and, oh well, if they want to be so prudish, not I,
the centre, the heart of this iron assemblage: a swimming pool. The Schallacker was, then I also took off the underpants. And now into the basin. It would certainly be
almost like a mockery, in reality an open-air pool. It was said that hippies used to quite cold. I padded across the tiles, still warm from the day before, breathed in dee-
spend the night there, smoking hashish and having orgies. And that the place was ply and went to the three-metre board. Nobody had dived off it today. The metal steps
haunted. Unexplainable noises, blurred movements, eyes in the dark. But I didn’t were dry, the paint cracked, light blue, as a brave assertion against the grey of the
think of boohoo-calling ghosts, now I was thinking of undercooled indoor pools, of city. I had forgotten how much the board swings at its tip. One could see the steel-
chlorine-impregnated physical-education classes with grim pool attendants and of a work. Hundreds of lamps. A starry metal sky. “Whoosh….” The splash was not hard,
seemingly never-ending swimming test with the obligatory dive off the three-metre the water not cold. It came from the work, heated by the never extinguished blast fur-
board, which, as a child, accompanied by the shouted orders of the swimming tea- nace. I dove three more times. And whooped each time I immersed. “Oh, it is daw-
cher and the demanding looks from my fellow schoolmates hoping for my failure, I ning”. Ricardia was calling and disengaged herself from Delles’s embrace. Then, from
had found by no means easy. It ended with a hard belly flop and I swore: I shall never somewhere in the dark, the band boys and the girls also appeared. We quickly put
again do something like this. on the T-shirt and the trousers over the wet skin and climbed over the fence. The
Ricardia was waiting at the disco exit with the boys, I hesitated. “Come on now.” Oh buses were already running, the early shift was beginning.
well, I followed. I didn’t feel comfortable. They were all going to impress each other A few days ago, I was there again. Of course, everything has disappeared, the steel-
with dives, handstands, somersaults and, certainly, drink an awful lot … And on Mon- work, the slag heaps, even the brewery and the outdoor pool, everything buried under
day, a test awaited me, “Cosmas Damian Asam und die Barockkirchen Niederbay- tons of humus. A park is now growing there. It is said that it was haunted at night. That
erns”. The night was balmy, the sky shone orange as it always did at the hour of the one could hear laughter and music and splashing and whooping. I am sure this is true.

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