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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 Chancellor seemed tense. The invited group of people was small. First, he gave, smiled somewhat sheepishly at me. “This is Aishe and Maik, good friends of mine.” “Hi,”
freely formulating, one of his less than inspiring election-campaign speeches, then
I said. “Merhaba,” said Aishe, “Hi,” said Maik. Then they both continued sipping their
he answered the questions of the handpicked audience. I had also framed a question, cocktails, acting as if I wasn’t physically present. The apartment consisted of two rooms,
claiming that the ideals of social democracy are three convictions: in terms of world a bedroom with an open, indirectly LED-lit bathroom area – completely open, without
politics, peace; in terms of domestic politics, social justice; and, in ethical terms, never glass, or curtain, without anything – and a living room with a pantry. A living room? Was
again fascism! How did he, how could his party, after the election, form a coalition with that what it was? The kitchenette with its stainless-steel bar stools was freestanding, a
a CDU [Christlich Demokratische Union] party that is currently opening up to the far right, smooth block of black marble, with bright-red metal shelves dangling on chains from the
to the AfD [Alternative für Deutschland]? Some of the people raised their hand, as in ceiling. The floor throughout the apartment: black rubber. The only window: tightly
school, but no one dared to snap their fingers. Then it was the turn of each of them, closed with a silver-grey steel-mesh curtain. In the middle of the room: the black leather
kindly invited by the direct-mandate candidate. The gentleman from the AWO, the lady sofa, whose aluminium frame with its wheels made it clear that it could quickly be
from the senior citizens’ fraction of the SPD, the representative of IG-Bau, the representa- pushed open to form a comfortable double bed. Opposite the sofa: a wall-sized mirror,
tive of ver.di, the lady from the association of medium-sized companies, the gentleman all around: stainless-steel hooks, in between, hanging or stretched: ropes, cords, chains
from the Paritätischer Wohlfahrtsverband, all asked their questions. Friendly questions to and all kinds of erotic toys. Soft techno-house sounds droned from the MP3 player. “This
which the Chancellor was able to give friendly answers. I didn’t get a turn. The direct is the playroom! Actually, the whole apartment is one!” Maik and Aishe smiled conspira-
candidate smiled at me briefly, with a friendly but strangely negating nod, which was torially. Being determines consciousness! Karl Marx’ somewhat outdated sentence pop-
probably meant to signal: Yes, you are diligently raising your hand out here and are also ped into my mind. Again and again, there were special rooms that disappeared, like the
very welcome, but you know that we are aware who will ask the Chancellor which que- zeitgeist that produced them and once declared them indispensable. Entire metres of
stions here, so that the answers can be suitable. Afterwards, the Chancellor’s meeting historical “interior decoration” editions bear witness to this: billiard rooms, breakfast
was over after just under an hour, there followed a Meet the Press with the Chancellor, rooms, smoking rooms, ladies’ rooms, then – in the body-conscious 1920s – supplemen-
away from the podium. Mr Pleitgen from CNN rushed forward, surrounded by three ted by the fitness room with a medicine ball and wall bars, then – in the 1950s – replaced
camera teams. His question and the Chancellor’s answer, spo- by the hobby room and a separate children’s playroom. The
ken in English, were on every TV channel the next morning: latter was even a required standard in social-housing construc-
“What about Elon Musk?” “Disgusting!” I took a few photos, tion, but never realized. After that, a surprisingly pleasure-see-
said a few words to Senator for Social Affairs Kiziltepe and left. king wave swept through the world of living: the party room,
I had planned more time for the Chancellor’s meeting, so what usually as a (basement) bar! Although the dimly-lit bar was
to do with the remaining free evening? A modern apartment often only lit up once or twice a year to celebrate a high-school
definitely needs a playroom. “A what?” “A playroom!” Erkan graduation, an engagement or a 50th birthday, the bigger and
had told me about it a few weeks ago. Erkan is 30, an interior Foto: Benjamin Reding - Demo gegen Ultra-Rechts, vor Bundestag, 2.2.25 more perfect the place looked like a “real bar” or – from the
designer, tattooed from head to toe, goes to the gym twice a 1970s onwards – a (village) discotheque, the more prestige it
week and has been part of the sex-positive scene for several brought. So now it’s the playroom! A place of uninhibited
years. Sex-positive is how the scene describes itself. Young, hedonism, of carefree lust and joie de vivre. “It should look a
adventurous people who have been cavorting in Berghain, bit like the lounge at the KitKat Club!” Erkan gently stroked the
Insomnia, KitKat and other sexually open clubs in the capital to shiny plastic seat covers of the bar stools. “So why don’t you
experience erotic pleasures with each other across all bounda- just go there, to the lounge at the KitKat Club?” The question
ries of all genders, and also of all social conventions. Or at least to try. Two months ago, sounded matter-of-fact, unintentionally harsh. “Because places like that are disappearing
Erkan moved into his first own apartment right in the centre. And, of course, for an more and more. The real-estate hype is eating them up.” I nodded. “And the zeitgeist is
interior designer, he personally converted and designed it himself. “Take a look!” He had also turning against us. The leftists say we’re too sexist and patriarchal and only care
invited me to do so several times. The rain was drizzling, it was getting dark, and it wasn’t about ourselves and not about climate protection, and the rightists are against any free
all that far from the Chancellor’s meeting to his place, three stops by underground. It was fun anyway. Now it has to return to the private sphere, to the home, to the playroom.” “If
a well-to-do, middle-class residential area. Blocks of flats from the Wilhelminian period the AfD wins, that will definitely be banned too.” Erkan sighed. Mike and Aishe looked
with oriels, stucco and little front gardens. His house had been freshly renovated, with over at us, a little perplexed. “Should we get ready to continue now …?” Aishe looked at
custom-made double-glazed windows and a golden anodised doorbell panel. Behind the Erkan expectantly. He smiled. And suddenly turned to me: “And you? Are you going to
façade, things were more practical: a second rear courtyard, staircase to the left next to join in?” On the long, rain-soaked way home, I saw a drunk staggering across the lanes
the rubbish bins. “Hey, welcome to the playroom!” Erkan was standing at the door, grin- on the main road. He stopped in front of the election posters on the verge. Suddenly,
ning broadly and melodramatically opening the apartment door left ajar. His face was strangely calm and focused, he looked at them, read the slogans: they focussed on “secu-
flushed, his T-shirt soaked with sweat. “Take your things off first!” He pointed to the rity”, “growth”, “peace” and a lot on “Germany”. Then he took a firm swing and kicked.
cloakroom. Hard-edged wooden surfaces, excellent carpentry work in the trendy colour Against the posters, every single one, no matter which party. Then, breathing heavily, he
dark grey. “Anthracite. Everything is anthracite!” It smelled of fresh paint, fresh wood and looked at his work of destruction and stomped away, uncertain but disillusioned. When
solvents. The apartment was small. “Only 46 square metres, but it seems much bigger, this column appears, it will be a week since the federal election. The majorities will be
doesn’t it?” The stucco ceiling was high. “Over three metres!” I looked around: a young different, the Chancellor will also be different, and the previous political colour scheme
woman was sitting on a black leather sofa, hastily wrapped in a bath towel, next to her will no longer apply. “But more freedoms, we’ll never get them!” The drunk shouted it
a young man, tattooed like Erkan, naked from the waist up. Both sipped on cocktails and into the night as a last salute. Time will tell whether he is right.

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