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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. Januar 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 property was scented. One noticed it already from a distance: of elder bushes, trees on the terrace, about phlox and laburnum and cotoneaster. The father remained
of buttercups and of rampant ivy. It was hidden behind warped walls. While out
silent. And the house belonged to: the bank. In winter, it was clear and cold, they
walking, the father passed the property. His three children wanted to “take a different moved in. The father had begged for new credits and was granted them. At different
route” for a change and whinged. And so, the father took a different route and saw the interest rates. “Changed market situation”, the branch manager had explained, this
sign on the wall: FOR SALE. And the property belonged to: the bank. The father told time without a jovial handshake. The family danced around the fireplace holding
the mother, later in the rented flat, at the kitchen table. A property on a slope, with a hands and the father shouted “We made it”. Overloud, again and again. An echo like
view of the city and three old chestnut trees! The children exclaimed: “Yes, that’s where in a stalactite cave. The old furniture was lost in the “halls”. The price of oil went up
we want to live!” And, until late into the night, they could still her the parents talking: thirtyfold. “Oil crisis”, the press called it. The tank remained empty that winter. The fa-
“Room for working, room for the children, a garden to play”, and, even later: “Income mily was cowering wrapped in blankets in front of the fireplace. How fortunate that it
…, savings …, credit …, maybe … maybe …” And the property belonged to: the bank. was so big. And the house belonged to: the bank. The father didn’t go for walks any-
The father talked with the bank. The branch manager talked about money investment, more. He sat in his cold study until far into the night. In the morning, he crept furtively
about favourable interest rates, about old-age provision, capital formation and granted to the letterbox, quickly pocketed the reminders and the letters from the bank. The
a credit, “generously”, as he emphasized with a jovial handshake. “Do build there! For mother ordered plants for the garden, for half a year’s salary. The children listened to
yourself, for your wife and your three sons!” their fight from the hallway. And the house
And the house belonged to: the bank. The belonged to: the bank. The children grew
father came home late. In the night, he si- up, learned, practice the flute and the piano,
gned the contract. At the kitchen table. And got drunk for the first time, watched forbid-
the property belonged to: the bank. The pa- den films in the late-night programmes in
rents bought furnishing magazines and deli- their rooms. The eldest son made love to his
berated and planned and dreamt, drew sket- first woman, outside in the garden, under
ches with pencils: a sliding wall, a larder, a the trees heavy with chestnuts. The father
loggia, an open fireplace. They looked for an saw it, went back into the house, his head
architect and found him. And the house be- down. And the house belonged to: the bank.
longed to: the bank. “A residence, more of a The railway embankment caught fire. A red
villa, with a gallery”, the architect said and glow behind the garden walls, flames up to
showed them sketches: living-room level, the treetops, large-scale deployment of the
bedroom level, studio, pool and rock gar- fire brigade. The mother ran around the
den. “Not a garden, more of a park.” And he house with wet cloths. “Like in the war”,
calculated: every sketch, every grate in front she said. And the house belonged to: the
of the basement windows, every step of the bank. The house was turned into a villa in
stairs, every pendant luminaire. “A dream Brasilia. For one short, warm summer night.
house like in Hollywood”, the neighbour The parents were away. The teenage sons
was amazed. “A nightmare”, the father said, Foto-Grafik: „Familienkreise“ von Benjamin Reding invited all their friends, they let the music
the credit having been used up. And the blare, hard and loud, they opened the ter-
house belonged to: the bank. “Turnkey!” In race doors, the doors of the rooms, turned
the daily newspaper, the father saw the add. on all the lamps, hung canvas over the
“House construction. Turnkey! Various sizes. never-used balconies. And, the morning be-
FIXED PRICE”. “That’s it!” the father exclaimed, relieved, and phoned. The representa- fore the parents’ return, they eliminated all traces. And the house belonged to: the
tive of the house-construction company came at once, with a briefcase and plans, pre- bank. The eldest son got married, moved out, his brothers followed him, year after
sented the children with sweets, laughed, joked, talked, again and again about the year. The father was now watching television, often for days, the mother went to
“fixed price”, about favourable oil heating, about easy instalments, and showed the church more often again. Moss was growing on the terraces, the firewood rotted. The
house variants “Nizza”, “Retreat”, “Family Happiness”: Decorous, small homes with a three chestnut trees were cut down. “It is so dark in the house”, mother explained.
saddle roof and glass blocks. The father signed. “Now we are going to build a house!” And the house belonged to: the bank. The father said he couldn’t walk anymore. He
And treated himself to one whisky after the other. His hands were trembling. And the got a wheelchair. The father had to lie down. He got a bed on the ground floor. The
house belonged to: the bank. The father visited the construction site. The family ac- mother said she couldn’t cope with the cooking, the cleaning anymore. A nursing ser-
companied him. The mother posed as the “lady of the house”, immensely proud and vice came. And the house belonged to: the bank. The father received a letter from the
in a great mood in front of the shell entrance door, the children played in the sand of bank. The last instalment had been paid. The father smiled. The house belonged to
the construction site, the father entered the dark shell. The house was immense. The him. After the funeral, the son went for a walk. A different route. On a narrow piece of
living-room a hall, the entrance a hall, the kitchen a hall, a staircase like for a hotel, lawn stood a sign. FOR SALE. He thought about it. His savings might be sufficient and
the fireplace as large as in Buckingham Palace. With tight lips, the father went back to maybe with a credit …
the car. The mother cheerfully talked about planning the garden, about little lemon And the property belonged to: the bank.

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