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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.

S askia hastily put away the German exam paper. She had got an A. 13 points. Nobo- continue at my desk for hours: designing and sketching architecture. From town halls
dy should see it, nobody was to notice it, nobody was welcome to comment on it.
and high-rise buildings to folding chairs and floor lamps. Unbeknownst to my parents,
“Oh, not again...” she groaned. “Dominik, you really can’t do anything!” My sports tea- carefully hidden from my classmates. The game of hide-and-seek only failed once. A
cher said it, a stocky gentleman with a moustache. He said it loud enough for everyone classmate watched me scribbling architectural fantasies during a school break. One of
in the sports class to hear. A few grinned. Not all of them. He didn’t even say it with the athlete aces, no less: Finn. His heavy athlete’s breathing gave him away. I hurriedly
amusement; he said it angrily, like a doctor who has to explain to his incurable patient closed the notebook. Finn couldn’t do anything. No maths, no German, no English, no
that he remains incurable. Once again, I was the last to cross the finish line. In the 200- biology, no chemistry. He didn’t do any homework, didn’t prepare for exams, didn’t
and 1,000-metre races. listlessly, he crammed the stopwatch back into his jogging participate in class, didn‘t ask questions and didn’t give answers. “No time,” he grumb-
trousers and blew his whistle. “That’s it for today,” the sports lesson was over. Vincent led. “I have to go and spend my time training hard.” He had to go there quite often.
stood in front of the blackboard, while teacher Dr Meenken wrote an equation on the Actually, every day. He played football. He was definitely good at that! “VFL Sölde. Posi-
dark rectangle with nimble, almost dancing movements: y‘’+2y‘+3y=4x²+5x+6. The tion “right wing”. Regional league! District champion! “A great talent!” read the headline
chalk squeaked, “You see, a simple differential equation”. Mr Meenken smiled and in the local newspaper’s sports section. The teaching staff showed mercy as a result. He
handed Vincent the piece of chalk with a grand gesture. “Now solve it and explain to was barely, but regularly, promoted. During the breaks, he was alone. The boys feared
your classmates how you do it!” Vincent cleared his throat, repeated in a low voice, his athletic prowess, his competition and, when it came to the girls, he was too simple,
“Differential equation...” then he said nothing more, staring at the blackboard, into the too stupid, to say it frankly. He would stand alone, leaning against the glass-fibre-rein-
classroom. Someone called out to him in a low voice, “Quadratic parabola!” “Quiet! No forced concrete walls of the sixth-form wing, staring into space, absent-mindedly running
one is helping!” Dr Meenken looked stern, “You have to...”, he turned to Vincent with a his hand through his fuzzy hair, pushing himself away from the wall again and again,
smug smile, “…be able to do it alone in the exam as well, after all!” Then he looked at seemingly wanting to cut the minutes until the bell rang short in his mind. As if he didn’t
Vincent like a scientist observing a test subject in a hypothermia experiment that was know what to do with his free time, without football, goals and jerseys. In determining
most likely to be fatal. Vincent remained silent, Mr Meenken the ranking, we formed the extremes. He, the too good athlete,
remained silent, the maths class remained silent. Vincent stared me the too bad one. So, we both stay alone during the breaks.
at the blackboard, the chalk crumbled in his hand. Then he Once I approached him. “You became district champion!” He
began to cry. He remained silent and cried. “Sit down!” hissed nodded, but didn’t say anything. Then, after a long, silent build-
Mr Meenken, hastily asking the best student in the class to solve up: “Yes, it was a tough game. I only scored with a through ball.”
the equation. He managed it easily. Mr Meenken let out a sigh of Then there was silence again, he looked serious, his eyes fixed
relief: “You see, anyone can do that!” We, Vincent, Saskia and I, on the grey felt floor. He knew that I was a good, maybe too
and a few other unlucky souls, shared a secret: we were not good, student and a bad, too bad, athlete. Maybe that’s why he
highflyers. We had to study, study a lot, make an effort, a very big didn’t trust me, didn’t think I was “important” enough for a chat
effort. We spent our afternoons at our desks, thinking hard. We Grafik (Skizze von 1986): Dominik Reding during the break? The silence stretched, becoming a message in
conscientiously did our homework, thoroughly swotted for the itself. I hastily thought about what I could tell him: about the
exams, and intensely focused on declensions of nouns and con- town halls, chairs and floor lamps that I drew at night? About
jugations of verbs in French, English and Latin. We shared ano- Mies van der Rohe, whom I admired? Or that I had never scored
ther secret, one that we had never discussed, but which we all knew: we were all a goal in my life? “Are you going to the graduation party at Goethe High School?” “Why?”
mediocre to poor at sports. If the former only earned you scorn and disgrace, from “They’re always great festive events!” I acted knowing, but I had never been to one
begrudging envy to hastily and half-whispered comments such as egghead, smart aleck, myself. He thought about it, his forehead wrinkled. “I’ll see, if I don’t have to go and
and nerd, the latter was a real disaster. Mental work! Only physical prowess could com- practice, then maybe.” The graduation party at Goethe was lame, but some classmates
pensate for a nerdy image at the desks. The jocks were never called “nerds,” no matter had come, there was dancing in the auditorium. “I’m quitting school after the summer
how much time they invested in their grades. Neither were the beautiful ones. Of course, holidays.” Suddenly Finn was standing next to me, with wet hair, his training backpack
there were counter-strategies: “I speak up too often. Always get too good oral grades. still on his shoulders. I nodded, not surprised by the news. “From now on, regional
Next term I’ll keep quiet,” Saskia whispered to me. One way was to keep quiet about league?” I pretended to be informed. “Nah, after graduating from high school, I’m going
being clever as much as possible. The slight Vincent suddenly and secretly went to a to Holzminden, a university of applied sciences and design.” “Uh...” I said. A university
different gym so he wouldn’t be ridiculed at the other school, and I went for hours-long of applied sciences? That sounded like desk work, like a nerd, a couch potato, a couch
runs in the forest so I wouldn’t be the last to cross the finish line again. Just don’t be seen potato! It sounded sooo uncool. I was disappointed. I had long since internalized the
as a know-it-all, and pay for it with loneliness. Because a third secret united us, an way my classmates talked without even realizing it. “And your career, your football?”
unspeakable, absurd one: we loved art. While the others spent what little free time they “That’s over.” He crossed his arms in front of his sweat-soaked T-shirt like a protective
had in the handball club, the swimming club and at tennis tournaments, we indulged in wall, and stared at me: “Hochschule für Gestaltung, that means design. That’s what I
our true passions – secretly, in isolation, hidden: Saskia wrote political texts that were want to be able to do: draw and design!” He said it very seriously, his brow furrowed,
always intended to fundamentally improve humanity, while Vincent regularly attended and then: “Being able to do it, being really good at it... Just like you!” He wiped his wet
the local theatre and wrote reviews afterwards, which he occasionally gave to us “insi- face, exhausted. Then he smiled, hesitantly, almost shyly. Finn stayed for another hour
ders” to read, but never published in the school magazine. “Then I’d be a complete freak or so, drank beer, didn’t dance and stood alone, as he did during school breaks. Then
to everyone.” And I drew. Often until well after midnight, after maths and Latin, I would he shouldered his backpack energetically and left without turning around.

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