Page 49 - AIT0125_E-Paper

Jeden Monat nähern sich unsere Kolumnisten, die Berliner Filmemacher Dominik und Benjamin Reding, dem jeweiligen Heftthema
auf ihre ganz eigene Art und Weise. Geboren wurden die Zwillinge am 3. Ja nuar 1969 in Dortmund. Während Dominik Architektur
in Aachen und Film in Hamburg studierte, absolvierte Benjamin ein Schauspielstudium in Stuttgart. 1997 begann die Arbeit an ihrem
ersten gemeinsamen Kinofilm „Oi! Warning“. Seitdem arbeiten sie für Fernseh- und Kinofilmprojekte zusammen.

Each month our columnists, Berlin-based filmmakers Dominik and Benjamin Reding, approach the respective issue-specific theme
in their very personal way. The twins were born on January 3, 1969 in Dortmund. Whilst Dominik studied architecture in Aachen
and film in Hamburg, Benjamin graduated in acting studies in Stuttgart. They started working on their first joint motion picture “Oi!
Warning“ in 1997. Since then they have tightly collaborated for TV and cinema film projects.

T he place where it happened when I was little no longer exists. It was cold, win- when they look through the glass, then of the arguments, the verbal sparring in the
ter cold. Hazy and cloudy, as it often is in our city. No snow, and when it does
hallway, which were now breaking out more and more often, and of my last hospital
come, it’s slush, grey and muddy. We pushed our way through the crowds in the discharge, the nurse who had berated me once for crying out in pain when she gave me
station concourse: my father and I. Sunday, one of the Sundays that was open for an injection. “Thank you for taking care of my son.” The strong, very decisive voice of
shopping. Usually, my mother and brother would also come with us for the family my father sounded, bulging plastic bags dangled from his hands. “And a small bouquet
shopping. Not this time, however. There had been an argument beforehand. I didn’t of flowers, please.” I knew it was for my mother; he always brought her a few flowers
understand exactly what it was about. But the word money was mentioned and since from town. But what would my surprise be? My father arranged the bags and the
father had built the house, there was often a lack of this concept. And I was also a bouquet in such a way that he could still take my hand in his, and I held on to it as he
topic of conversation. At the beginning of the year, I had fallen ill. “You’ll be fine,” the quickly walked towards the exit. Once again, we passed the sweets. Was the surprise
paediatrician had said encouragingly, but I wasn’t, however. The children’s hospital waiting there? But I kept my question to myself, not wanting to jeopardize the secret
diagnosed me as chronically ill, forever. After that, the tone between my father and of the gift and the anticipation. My father stopped under the canopy of the department
mother changed. They had shouted at each other in the hallway, between the new store, next to a sausage stand, and searched in his coat pockets. Now I couldn‘t contain
mirrored bathroom cabinet, new umbrella stand and new guest toilet. Now my father myself any longer: “The surprise, the surprise!” I looked up at my father expectantly.
would set out for the shops with me alone. He walked on in silence, my hand in his, But he was only looking for a lighter to light his pipe. “The what...?” For a moment,
which I had to stretch up to. Father in a felt coat and a fur hat, me in rubber boots, father was silent, stood motionless, staring into space. Then he pulled himself together,
down jacket, woollen cap and scratchy scarf. Mother had looked this way and that, at the passers-by, at the
put the scarf around my neck at the front door before we steaming sausage stand, then at the shop windows
left. “Otherwise you’ll catch something!” The biting wind of the department store opposite. “There!” Sud-
made the star-shaped bulbs sway back and forth in the denly the volume and certainty returned to father’s
shopping street. Father made the first stop in front of a voice: “That’s it: the surprise!” He breathed a sigh
tobacconist store. A strange, dimly lit world: the smell, of relief, pointed energetically in the direction of the
the packages, the elderly gentleman behind the coun- department store. I craned my neck, but all I saw
ter. Father, an avid pipe smoker, asked about a pape of were legs, the hems of coats, and passers-by’s plastic
his favourite brand. The man showed him the model he bags. Then, finally, a gap opened up and I saw it:
wanted, Father asked for the price and then bought just a miracle! Brightly lit behind the department store
a pack of pipe cleaners; long, thin sticks, wrapped all windows! A train with a steam locomotive trundled
around with cotton wool, ideal for bending and playing by. A model train, but a big one, almost as big as
with for hours. Then on through the sleet, following my me! And in front of it and behind it, across all the
father’s unexplained route, to a jeweller’s. I was to sit shop windows, stretched a landscape. With hills,
stones, gold rings that looked to me like the rings from Grafik: Benjamin Reding ding paths and villages full of half-timbered houses,
forests and meadows, streams, bridges, gently win-
and wait. I did that, at least it was warm in there. Father
looked at the glass display cases, occasionally asking to
water mills, craft workshops and church towers. And
be shown and explained something. Bracelets, glittering
in it – it was incredible – there were lots of stuffed
the chewing gum machines. Why didn’t my father just buy something there, from the animals moving around and operating this fantastic world. A lion was hammering
machine? But I didn’t dare ask him, he looked at the rings, stones, chains, too tensely, away in the village smithy, squirrels were baking bread, bears were selling honey in
too tight-lipped, the price be stated and yet, in the end, bought nothing. The shops of the market square, rabbits, mice and hedgehogs waved from the train windows, and
adults, with their secret rules and rites of purchase, the serious, persistent talk about in the neatly smoking steam engine, a giraffe and a rhinoceros were standing in the
sizes, materials and prices – I didn’t understand it. And I hoped to be going home driver’s cab. The giraffe shovelled coal, the train-driver rhinoceros blew the whistle.
soon. “Everything is cheaper in a department store than in a specialized store,” father Over and over again. I approached the windows so closely that I almost became part
murmured, more to himself. Outside, the sleet soaked even mother’s scarf. Perhaps he of this landscape myself. Overwhelmed by the realization that soft toys, just like the
noticed my fidgety hand, he bent down to me, said: “After that we’ll go back,” looked ones I had at home in my bed, could bring a wonderful world to life. What a surprise!
briefly at my frozen, reddened face and suddenly added hastily: “And then... then there “Now let’s go home, we’ve already missed one train.” My father took my hand again
will also be a surprise for you.” The warm air blowing at the department store entran- and I walked away with him, turning my head again and again to the shop windows.
ce doors felt good. It smelled of aniseed and fruit gums: the shelves of sweets were Of course, none of this exists anymore. The windows have been boarded up for a long
right behind the entrance. I was asked to wait again, this time in the department-store time, the entrance walled up, the department store closed, the other one opposite
flower shop. A bluish glowing aluminium rectangle full of flowers and plants behind demolished years ago. Only sometimes, when I happen to come across a department
steamed-up windows, almost like an aquarium. “I’ll be back to pick up my son in a store somewhere in the city centre on one of my travels, an ugly thing from the 1970s, I
minute.” The young woman at the counter carefully arranged bouquets. She nodded feel the blower at the entrance, breathe in the warm air, sometimes smelling of aniseed
and smiled and continued her work in silence. Only the snipping of her scissors occa- and fruit gums, I stand again in front of the large, brightly lit shop windows, my small
sionally broke the silence. I waited, a long time, very long, and while I waited I thought hand resting firmly in my father’s warm paw and see the lion forging and the model
first of aquariums and their silent inhabitants, what they might possibly see and think train driving. And, for a brief moment, I am happy.

AIT 1/2.2025 • 049