It lasts an hour and a half, but then Monika Gruber still knows who she wants to leave the stage as after 20 years. She is standing in the sold-out Olympiahalle, this angry, funny, disappointed, tired Bavarian woman that evening, who has long since flown out of the cabaret’s seams under the centrifugal forces of the present, which will be discussed later. She presses her black painted fingernails to her heart without it looking like a fake emotional gesture, because emotional gestures are as much a part of her as pink pumps and Prosecco. And it’s as if she had uncorked herself after all the fermenting outrage: Monika Gruber is crying. Finally.
Monika Gruber in the Olympic Hall: Joan of Arc from Tittenkofen abdicates – media
