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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 here are bars there, from shabby to chic, ten of them. But that’s not the point. film clips of the nominees, applause, then the melodramatic opening of the envelope
There are restaurants there, from mid- to high-priced, from French to Vietname-
(accurately following the Hollywood model), then the cheers of the winners, applau-
se, but that’s not the point. There are also hotels there, six in the middle- to upper se, then the precisely timed words of thanks, applause, then the next musical piece,
class and three which have earned five stars, but that’s not the point. And there’s the next sketch and so on. Like every year. Until then. Journalist Düzen Tekkal and
even a discotheque in the basement, with another three bars, but that’s not the point. director Wim Wenders enter the stage. Between them, a small, cautiously walking,
It is also not about the building, which has been designed by an important architect, fragile-looking person. Oversized on the XXL screens to the left and right of the stage,
Renzo Piano, and it is also not about the “big names”, from Wim Wenders to Corinna a face becomes recognizable: a wrinkled, serious, beautiful face. A face with large,
Harfouch, from Lars Eidinger to Jella Haase, although they were all there that evening. alert, questioning eyes. The face of an old woman. Düzen Tekkal and Wim Wenders
It is about something else. The gala evening began like every gala evening of the give long, very long introductory words, the old woman stands upright, listens, waits
annual German Film Awards ceremony in a balmy, early-summer day of the month politely. Düzen Tekkal explains who is standing next to her. She mentions the name:
of May: first with a queue in front of the white-wrapped entrance booths (invitati- Margot Friedländer. And mentions her age: 102 years. She says that Mrs Friedländer
ons are strictly personal, no private escorts allowed, required dress code: “evening is a survivor of the Holocaust and survived the Theresienstadt concentration camp.
dress/dinner jacket”), then with the usual flurry of flashbulbs on the rainproof red She says that Mrs Friedländer emigrated to the USA in 1946 and made a conscious
carpet of the gala location, the Theater am Potsdamer Platz. This year the protec- decision to return to Berlin, the city of her birth, in 2010 to tell children and young
tion against the rain was unnecessary, the sun people in schools about her life. The hall falls
was shining constantly. Then, still dazzled by silent. Mrs Friedländer steps up to the micro-
the flash, you spot the first familiar faces in the phone. She has prepared her words, she reads
entrance hall. People wave, greet and smile out the text. Her voice is firm. She looks into
noncommittally (the prizes have not yet been the hall. She speaks little about herself, men-
awarded). A quick chat with Jasmin Tabatabai, tions her brother, his death in Auschwitz. She
who, like me, graduated from drama school in talks about her current fear, about new hat-
Stuttgart; a friendly handshake with Michael red of Jews, her hope that her experience will
Kessler, whose acting I used to direct at the not be repeated. The room listens to her. And
Bochum Schauspielhaus; a quick glance over something fades: The stale chic of the theatre
at Katja Riemann, whom I’ve never met in hall, the pseudo-glamorous stage decorations,
person except at the film award ceremonies. the Hollywood imitation, the poor jokes, the
Not everyone here adheres to the dress code, over-excited laughter, all the “pomp”. It is
but everyone really makes an effort. It glitters, swallowed up, the silence in the hall swallows
sparkles and shines. Silk, rhinestones and yes, it up, even the usual rumblings of the gala
evening dresses with trains (a few) and dinner guests. For the moment of listening, you are
jackets with velvet lapels and bright white shirt standing in Berlin – let’s say 1938 – watching
collars with bow ties (surprisingly many). The the window panes shatter, feeling how quickly
high-ceilinged entrance hall buzzes with exci- the thin ice of civilization is melting away, how
ted chatter and smells of a wild mixture of fine Foto: Benjamin Reding quickly everyone is shouting along, marching
perfumes. The floral decorations defy the heat along, screaming the dictated slogans, how
to perfection, the improvised bar stands are quickly you are hated, how quickly you are
densely packed, the spotlights and camera teams circle the stars eagerly. Everything lost. Mrs Friedländer concludes her speech with an appeal. She calls on film-makers
is as it is every year, despite the world “out there”, which is coming apart at the seams to be vigilant and on us all to be human. She looks at her audience. It is impossible
from Ukraine to the Gaza Strip, from Trump to Putin. “In a few minutes, the German to escape her gaze. The audience rises, applauds, oblivious to space and time. Some
Film Awards 2024 ceremony will begin. Please take your seats.” The young, dynamic guests cry, even up here in the balcony seats. After the 102-year-old’s words, the
male voice echoes amiably through the corridor loudspeakers. And, as befits celebri- award ceremony returns to itself. At least it tries to: stars, films, Hanna Schygulla,
ties, you follow the invitation, but with casual nonchalance. My seat is on the balcony. who receives an honorary award, sketches, jokes, music, just like every year. After
That’s an advantage, say the insiders. The best view, it is claimed, is from there. You the gala, I see Mrs Friedländer in the foyer next to the balcony. She is sitting apart,
just have to be a bit free from vertigo, as Renzo Piano has lined up the rows of seats almost alone, eating something, exhausted, looking at the glass façade of the theat-
so steeply, one above the other rather than one behind the other. Then the lights re. I overcome my shyness, go up to her and thank her. She looks at me, then says
dim, the talking turns to whispering, the last latecomers manage to find their seats, quietly and kindly: “I thank you for listening to me.” In front of the theatre next to
the music is getting louder. “Let the show begin!” The show begins with the states- the red carpet is the flower wall, which has been filled with balcony flowers in pots
woman: Minister of State for Culture Claudia Roth gives her speech. After all, almost for several years. Guests at the film award gala are welcome to take them home with
three million euros are being handed out this evening, the most valuable cultural them. The aim here is to be ecologically sustainable. There are always lots of plants
honour this country has to offer. After polite applause, the rehearsed tour de force left over. Not this time. I also take a plant with me. An unpretentious petunia. I carry
follows: a musical piece, a sketch, applause, laudations for the nominees, applause, it carefully to the underground. It will remind me of this evening.

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