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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 student (at table 4, sipping her latte macchiato): “I totally fucked up my silent couple (at table 12), she: “’They went to the smallest café in town and stirred in
maths. I can tick off the exam. Two useless points at the most. No medical stu-
their cups, in the evening they still sat there and just couldn’t believe it’. He taught
dies, no law, not even architecture ... I can throw myself in front of a train. Please, me that. Like so many things. I’ll tell him. Still. One more coffee and then I’ll tell him.
please, come on, Isabella or Laura or ... Lukas, comfort me. For the graduation party He can keep the furniture, the car too. Only the dog, I want him.” The elegant woman
I need a puffer jacket from Dsquared2. One day I’ll be famous, like, like ... Selena (at table 9, looking at her mobile phone): “Ten past four already ... Why this café at
Gomez! Even without knowing maths.” The old lady (at table 7, looking over at table all? A sushi bar would have been better, or an art gallery. No, art, it seems so too cle-
4): “Cheerful, happy, carefree. It’s beautiful how the young woman looks, no, how she ver by half. Why did I get that new haircut, long sides, short fringes in front? And dyed
radiates ... And what she’s wearing: a bolero jacket, hot pants and those long eyelas- it. Red, almost an orange ... Does it make me look younger? Or just older, because
hes ... I would never have dared, or ... yes. We also had kajal, thick red lipstick, dyed I’m pretending to be ‘young’?” The old lady (at table 7): “In the very beginning there
our hair blonde, but it turned out more like a dirty orange. Hers are pitch black, surely was a parrot here that could talk. ‘Have you paid yet?’ Always this sentence. ‘Have
also dyed, smooth, shiny, like metal: Perfect Madame! Everything has changed ... ex- you paid yet?’ That’s why people simply flocked here, us too. The café was full ... Mrs
cept this café. Oh, yes, of course, the prices. Black Forest cherry cake used to be two Giese doesn’t come any more, now in assisted living, Mrs Stadtfeld, nursing ward and
marks ... or was it 1.50? Well, it still tastes good, but the pieces have become quite Mrs Düser, western cemetery. At the beginning, there were six of us, then three, now
narrow and you used to be allowed to smoke in here. Even mother knew the Café Or- it’s just me, alone, and, at some point, I will no longer be here either. Only an image
chidée, she found it ‘too modern’ ...” The elegant woman (at table 9): “Why on earth in other people’s heads, a faint memory, like the old woman I saw here 50 years ago,
Black Forest cherry cake? Why didn’t I at least order crème brûlée or an ice-cream she seemed so ancient to me, in her black widow’s dress, drinking eggnog, lots of it.
parfait or crêpes suzette or a slice of tarte au citron? When he sees me like this, he’s Then she danced around the table until the staff came. Will I be like that one day?”
bound to think, what kind of a conservative The elegant woman (at table 9, getting up):
auntie is that? My brand-new Balenciaga suit “Half past four. He’s not coming anymore. Ty-
is of no use to me, the first impression, the pical Tinder date. It’s all a lie. At least I got a
first three seconds are decisive. When’s he co- new haircut. And I like it! I don’t care what
ming? 4 p.m., 15 minutes to go. He looked ever anyone else says ...” The columnist (at table
so handsome in the photos ...” The young 8): “The tables here still have numbers on top
clerk (at table 3): “They’ll never find me here. of them: ‘Table 8’, embossed on brass. It’s for-
They go to the fancy coffee bars, coffee-to-go, tunate that the train had developed a defect
‘happy barista’ shops, the dear colleagues. and had to stop. Otherwise I wouldn’t be here
With their laptops on their knees. You never now, in a medium-sized town, in a little side
take a break from work, especially not in the street, in a café called Orchidée. It has disap-
IT industry, so it’s important that everyone peared from the big cities or has become
sees that. Not here. Here I don’t have to act as trendy, prettied-up like a museum and only
if I urgently have to do something, I don’t have Foto: Benjamin Reding remains as a curiosity: the ‘granny café’. A
to laugh along with flat jokes, I don’t have to place of reassuring happiness after hapless
please the boss, I don’t have to be over-moti- hours at school, exhausting shopping with pa-
vated and permanently cheerful, I don’t have to down my coffee in an everlasting rents, tiring visits to relatives, unsuccessful business meetings, failed flirtations. A
hurry. The place is really splendidly uncool! They haven’t put any giant circular lamps place that demands nothing from the visitor, no achievements, no records, no being
under the ceiling, no thin-legged metal bar stools in front of the cake counter, no do- up to date, no particular behaviour, except a yen for coffee and cake and some poli-
nuts, bagels, brownies, Ntro ice teas and cupcakes with soy milk on display. No, here teness, perhaps. A soft place, almost disreputably soft. You go to bars to celebrate a
being is an end in itself. Unabashed, unconcealed, honourable idleness. Oh, there is success, to upscale restaurants to impress, to pubs for table football, card games and
someone sitting back there with a laptop. He must have got lost ...” The energetic man booze. Loud, hard, manly. ‘Coffeehouse existences’, that’s a dirty word. Here, between
in his mid-forties, with his laptop on his knees (at table 5, looking around): “Every- cosy creaking wooden chairs, crystal chandeliers and the smell of fresh coffee beans,
thing will have to go! Even the flower shop next door. Then there’s space enough for you remember the old games, the children’s games. How to pass the time during the
a solvent chain, high-end-rent. And upstairs office space plus condominiums. Only first visits to a ‘granny café’: like the mind-reading game. The replacement train will
the wrangling is annoying. The negotiations take too long. The stubborn old owners, be here soon, I’ll pay. And notice the reality: The elegant woman at table 9 is not
but the children, they definitely want that! Best city centre location, close to the rail- being picked up by a Tinder date but by her husband and two children, the student
way station, good plot dimensions. Hopefully the preservation order won’t interfere. is speaking Arabic into her smartphone, the clerk takes his work jacket off the coat
But even if it tries to do so, there are enough cracks in the basement, our surveyors hook: that of a garbage collector. And the silent couple at table 12 is not a couple, they
will fix it.” The silent couple (at table 12), he: “’When they had known each other for are greeted with kisses by their life partners, she by her girlfriend, he by his boyfriend.
eight years, one may say they knew each other well, their love suddenly disappeared, Oh, I was quite wrong in my guessing their thoughts. Only for the guests at tables 5
like other people lose a cane or a hat ...’ I haven’t forgotten that. German course with and 7 could it be different: The energetic man in his mid-forties quickly and secretly
Studienrat Haustein, who preferred to give Cs instead of Fs. By Tucholsky, no, it was snaps mobile phone photos of the restaurant and the older lady leaves alone, with a
Kästner. I have to tell her ... Gone is gone. Now, right after coffee ... or tomorrow?” The brief, almost wistful wave goodbye. I do hope I was wrong.”

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