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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 city just could not please us. A banking district with high-rises, glass, glitte- public, squares, streets, parks can be more of a designed and used space than all
ring, smooth, as in any major city. A park with a war memorial, sharp-edged
those buildings listed above, as any Italian, Greek, Spanish, Oriental or even German
and of heavy marble, a soulless necrology, surrounded by joggers, walkers, skaters, old city nonchalantly proves. And while I was looking for a seating bench to rest
as everywhere from London to Shanghai; a pub district where, the night before, we which didn´t exist, or a tree to lean against, which wasn´t there, and my eyes sear-
had been looking for “urban life” but only encountered hordes of thirsty bachelors. ched for something to lock onto on the façades, on details, and didn´t find anything,
Even the rounds in the swimming pool on the 14th floor, with a view across the sky- I thought of Sydney, of Utzon and his opera house, of the jury´s text of the justifica-
line, a train trip up into the mountains which smelt of eucalyptus, and even a dinner tion for the award where an anonymous member explained that they all, while loo-
with a film star in this large, far away, strange, curiously arbitrary metropolis, did king through the almost 300 competition designs, had again and again gone back to
not reconcile us. Often, the name of a city is linked with an inner image, a child´s Utzon´s design, could not tear themselves away from his captivating, completely un-
drawing, simple and clear: Paris? Notre Dame, kissing couples on the Champs-Ély- usual but secure, clear creative drive. And I thought of the amazed, gawking, cheerful
seés, the Eiffel Tower photographed to death. Moscow? The Kremlin, the Red Square selfie snappers in Sydney and of Utzon who, with his opera house, managed some-
of course, the onion towers of St Basil´s Cathedral, the Lenin Mausoleum in the snow thing that is very rare to achieve in architecture: becoming popular, without kitsch,
flurries. Rome? Mountains of crumbling pillars, churches, a blessing pope and two without being trivial. And while I made out a manhole cover as the centre of the new
cupolas, St Peter´s Basilica and the Pantheon into the bargain. London? A queen with urban district at the intersection of its four streets, I remembered a miniature sheet
a handbag, waving from the balcony of Buckingham Palace. San Francisco? That red of stamps which had come out shortly before the turn of the millennium, “German
bridge with the pot-smoking hippies in the park. Rio? Beach, Sun and Sugar Loaf Architektur after 1945” it was called. Four buildings and four architects had made it
Mountain. Beijing? The Imperial Palace and the out of 50 years of post-war modernism onto the
portrait of Mao. Barcelona? Gaudi´s Sagrada Fa- stamps: Gottfried Böhm´s Wallfahrtskirche in Nevi-
milia. Cairo: mummies and pyramids. But, alas, ges, Hans Scharoun´s Philharmonie, Mies van der
what could one have said about this city? We Rohe´s National Gallery and, as the latest but at
didn´t really want to see yet another tourist attrac- the time already 30-year-old building: Frei Otto´s
tion at all. The only real sight, certainly beleague- and Günther Behnisch´s roof of the Munich Olym-
red by tourists, offering itself for taking selfies. pic Stadium. And as random as the selection might
But the way there was also banal, suburban high- seem, the postal service was also right: only these
rises, in a row like parking cars, every one of four buildings of the modernism of the Federal Re-
them a fashion dress of the construction period: public had succeeded in becoming popular. And I
flying roof and brise soleil, brutalist concrete, gol- pondered which buildings might now, in 2021, still
den anodized glass. Then, suddenly, the view be added, which ones had succeeded in not only
opens onto a bridge, at least, almost as dramatic becoming famous, not only being admired by cri-
as its big brother in San Francisco and, at the end tics but in becoming popular, generally liked. It is
of the street, at the end of the promontory: This difficult for modernity in this respect, perhaps the
building, famous worldwide, with its white, rising buildings of the past with their supportive symme-
shells. Like sails, gothic vaults, glaciers, rumpled tries, their architectural decorations signalling un-
bedsheets (there have been and still are many Foto: Benjamin Reding erring preciousness and craftsmanship and their
comparisons): Jørn Utzon´s Sydney Opera House. roofs conveying protection and warmth are strate-
And it was, as was to be expected, an excursion gically superior to the filigree buildings of modern
destination and a tourist attraction, a backdrop for selfies and a party mile, but, yes, architecture. Even in times of corona, the tourists in front of Langhans´ Brandenbur-
it was also beautiful, a powerful, accomplished sculpture in front of the hard blue of ger Tor are photographing themselves at millisecond intervals, in front of Frank O.
the Australian sky, giving a name to this strangely arbitrary place: This is Sydney, the Gehry´s DZ Bank, in front of James Sterling´s British, in front of Charles Moore´s US
city “with the opera house”. And we as well took our photograph. A few days ago, and in front of Christian de Portzamparc´s French embassy, nobody generally does
long after the journey to Australia, I had gotten off, “unscheduled” as one usually this in the same square opposite. I tentatively thought that maybe the Allianz Arena
says, at the main railway station of Berlin. I should have changed trains but I let the in Munich or the Elbphilharmonie in Hamburg could be added or Foster´s dome of
train go. The reason being that I shirked the trip. Private matters had to be arranged the Reichstag, not all that far from the station but out of sight due to the new buil-
at the destination, a move was imminent, a hospital visit. Matters one likes to shirk. dings of the “urban district”. The wind was whipping hard through the narrow,
I stepped out into the square in front of the station where I had never been before, empty streets bordered by cars and parking metres of the district “full of urban vita-
even though one is able to catch sight of the Federal Chancellery and the dome of lity”, I heard myself murmur: “If Utzon´s opera house were standing here, there
the Reichstag. That is where a new city district was said to have been built, “full of would be more going on …” and, after a pause, “All you architects …. have courage!”
urban vitality”. I looked for the “district” and didn´t find it. Because I was already The loudspeaker voice wafting across from the station reminded me of my train jour-
right in the middle of it. And had not noticed the “urban vitality”. Public buildings ney. The ICE took a wide curve on the way, rain pelted against the windows. Tired,
were missing. No museum, no library, no theatre, no school building, no swimming I pressed myself back into the seat, was cold, thought of what was coming. Of mo-
pool, no opera house. But that would have been tolerated, urban space as well is ving and departing and farewell. And, quietly, I then said to myself: “Have courage”.

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