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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.

An Essay by Benjamin Reding
T iles, green, blue, red, yellow. Again I was staring at the wall. Perhaps these pat- embroidered braces and a white shirt with rolled-up sleeves. “Wow”, I said.
terns were to represent something after all? The large, red blob of tiles a sun?
“Schleich di!“ [Get lost]The young man on the cow called in my direction. What did
And the green area next to it an island? And the blue – the sea, of course? But maybe he mean? Maybe “Come here”? So I went towards him. “What is your cow called?”
also a tomato pizza and a head of lettuce on a blue tablecloth? Or something com- The boy looked aghast at me. “Des is koa Kua, des is a Ochs, du Depp.“ [That’s not
pletely different or just the opposite or … Pfeeet! Again the shrill whistle. Yes, it was a cow, that’s an ox, you idiot]. He made the ox stop. “He’s called Beppo”. Beppo
time, high time even. Why did the board have to sway so much. And was so far up. looked up at me. Large, peaceful ox’s eyes. I took heart. “May I ride as well?” The boy
It didn’t look like that at all from below. Three metres. But from up there: Three scrutinized me. Thoroughly scrutinized me. “You?” He shook his head. “You cannot
metres were terribly high. The swimming instructor again raised his whistle. Let’s go, do this.” I looked at the ground. At my shoes, at the meadow. It was green. I felt a
then, one step forward and yet another step. Then the swimming trunks slipped. slight sunburn on my neck and the rib was hurting. “Wennst nix sogst und di ned
I grabbed it, lost my balance and fell. Puff! Splash! Gurgle! And silence. riarst, derfst zuaschaun.“ [If you don’t speak and don’t move, you may watch]. I
Why Bad Tölz? Beautiful, healthy, natural Bad Tölz. Perhaps because that was what opened my mouth, wondering and questioning. The boy got a grip on himself and
the brochures said and the postcards and the travel catalogues. Mama went there then pronounced it very slowly, concentrating hard: “Wenn du nix sagst und dich
and took me along. A holiday, two weeks. A journey by train. And for me still at a dis- nicht bewegst, dann darfst du zuschauen.“ I nodded. And I didn’t speak, didn’t move
count rate. Getting on was difficult for me. “Like an old man”, the conductor said and and was just watching. That day and the next three days. He rode from left to right,
grinned. Bruises and a partially broken rib. The from front to back and, whenever the ox Beppo
belly flop from the three-metre board. I could didn’t really feel like it, also sideways or in a
not even laugh or bend over anymore. The circle. Then, on the evening of the third day, I
brochures were right. Already outside of Fulda, asked the rider: “Why do you do this?“ He
the meadows became greener, the sky bluer, the looked over at me and was surprised. “Well,
steeple roofs more onion-shaped, the world for the race, on Sunday, in Münsing. That will
more beautiful. The taxi driver at the Bad Tölz be a load of fun. But you’re still too young for
station spoke a language never heard before. It it.” Then he grabbed the bridle, again called an
sounded like a waterfall, like a heavy storm, encouraging “Yoooaaahhh!” to the ox and went
with thunder and lightning and hail. I don’t down the village street with him. Then he no
know if Mama understood him but she told him longer came. The meadow stayed empty.
the destination and he drove there: Hotel Sankt On the next Sunday morning, having told
Anton. It actually looked like the farmhouses all Mama I was going wading, I got on the bus to
around: houses with shutters, flower boxes and Münsing. One could see it already from afar. A
plaster on the walls that thick as if the mortar banner with “START“, a banner with “FINISH”
had been thrown up with snow shovels, just and between them the racetrack and spectators
that it was ten times as big and had an elevator. and oxen and men in leather pants and
“On the ground floor is our Zirbelkieferstub´n, woollen socks. Indeed, ox Beppo was also
in the evening pleasant music will be played there and his rider, the boy whose name I had
there and there is something good to drink and Foto: © Hans-Peter Höck not asked. My heart was beating. “Riders
on the lower level is our wellness area with a mount and off you are!“ The loudspeaker voice
sauna, a solarium, a fitness zone and a swim- was talking almost in High German. The people
ming pool.” The lady at the reception bent down to me. “You can swim there, lad, yelled, called out, raved. And the oxen ran. Beppo as well, faster even than in all the
free of charge.” I shook my head. “Partially broke my rib”, and pointed to the spot rehearsals. The riders sat near the head of their oxen, tried to position themselves like
that hurt. She looked at me, a long time. “Then you will be able to …. go wading.” on horses, straight and heroic. Beppo’s young rider did it differently: He sat, no, he
After the second day and the eighth round of wading, I pulled the socks over my cold rather lay, at the very back of the ox, his arms, his body pressed firmly to the animal,
feet, pushed the glass swimming-pool door aside and made off. It smelled good out- his legs at an angle, like an airplane on landing approach. Shortly before the finishing
side, of pine needles and freshly mown meadows and cow dung. Behind the hotel straight, however, maybe Beppo was exhausted or the meadows on the horizon just
was a golf course, behind the golf course a pasture and behind the pasture stood yet looked too inviting and juicy, the ox slowed down his pace. Beppo hesitated, yes, it
another hotel. About as big as ours. Only gutted by fire. The wooden shutters, the almost seemed to me as if he stood still. “Yoooaaahhh!! Yoooaaahhhh!!” My rib was
flower boxes, the Zirbelkiefernstuben, everything burnt up into charcoal. Should I go throbbing with pain, each bruise was stabbing and burning, but I called it out, again
in? Explore the ruin? I could hear myself breathing. “Yoooaaahhh!” Then again, even and again. I had to do it, as loud as I possibly could. “Yoooaaahhhh!!” Beppo picked
louder: “Yoooaaahhh!!” The shock made turn around and I saw it: A cow was running up speed again. He passed the other oxen, reached the finish line and won. And his
towards me. And a person. But he wasn’t running next to the cow. He was sitting on young rider had the laurel wreath put around his neck and delightedly raised his fist.
it. And he jeered: “Yoooaaahhh!“ A boy, not much older than me. Maybe 18, 19 years My rib continued to hurt for days, the bruises burned and my voice sounded scratchy
old. He wore thick woollen socks reaching up to his calves, leather pants with and hoarse. But I had seldom felt so good.

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