Rain in Troy. Before Hector kills Patroclus and Achilles then Hector, and before the Trojans scream the futility of the eternal vengeance cycle up to Olympus, the plug must first be pulled. Fifteen minutes break. Not necessarily because of the actors who start tripping on the rain-soaked ground in order not to slip, actors are usually robust, but because of the less robust technology. Does death have to wait a while longer? It’s Saturday afternoon in Offenbach, in the summer building they are playing the ten-hour ancient project “Dionysos City”, and it’s just the second part, the Trojan War. Jokes on the subject of gods and weather are foregone at this point, but it is amazing how different it feels when Zeus romps down from the top of the theater in front of a slowly darkening sky and the Greek fleets are summoned.
Matthias Pees shrugs his shoulders with a smile. Well, what can you do. Last week the black stage floor was so hot that the actors burned their hands during the first part, in which they crawled around for minutes dressed as sheep. It is much more important that everyone is there, the audience, the actors, technicians, the crane with crane operator Rudi and above all this building, the summer construction. In the middle of the second pandemic summer on the border between Offenbach and Frankfurt.
The summer building is an open theater building with boxes for two spectators each, a total of 200 people, something like the Globe Theater in London, it was always said in the announcements. Built from simple steel frames, wood and sloping sheet metal walls. “I thought for a very, very long time that it won’t work anyway,” says Pees, director of the Mousonturm, who is responsible for the summer construction program. “Nothing anyway” has become too much in the past year and a half, especially for artists. The design for the building was finished early, it comes from Raumlabor Berlin, a collective of architects, designers and artists that builds many temporary urban cultural projects.
The theater will be up until the end of October, and as many artists from the region as possible should take part
Pees moved around with the design, looking for funding opportunities and a suitable location. In the end, it was financed by the Hessian Ministry of Art, which put together a 10 million euro package for open-air theater. The summer building is the showcase project, the flagship, as Pees calls it, that alone costs 2.5 million euros from planning to production. The theater will be up until the end of October, and as many artists from the region as possible should take part. The Schauspiel Frankfurt is there, the Independent Acting Ensemble, the University of Music and Performing Arts, musicians like the (also Hessian) “Pantha du Prince”, local DJs, dance projects, a Lebanon festival.
The location question turned out to be more difficult than raising money for the project. The summer building in Frankfurt was supposed to be in place, but there was always something: an underground car park, the residents. The neighboring Offenbach Cultural Office then found a place “in no time”, as Pees says, and brought a project development company on board, which made an area available for free. Now it is there, the summer building, in the industrial no man’s land between Frankfurt and Offenbach, the cities that often don’t get on well with each other, between car dealerships and a few hotels, in which crews from international airlines stop over.
Beach chairs are placed in front of stages, Ferris wheels in front of town halls, the main thing is that something is working again
And it’s not as easy as it sounds to perform outside. District administration departments and economic departments want completed applications, the health department is also responsible because of the corona-related hygiene regulations, and someone first has to make an area available. For the second year in a row, several cities are running “Summer in the City” projects and projects with a similar name, which give showmen, artists and event technicians the opportunity to perform and earn money. Beach chairs are placed in front of stages, Ferris wheels in front of town halls, the main thing is that something is working again.
The summer building, which was built in no time at all, not only offers space for art, it not only serves the purpose, but is an end in itself, a work of art in its own right. After months of stagnation, temporary standstill and daily preoccupation with what is not possible, this entire project, from design to construction to the interaction with city policy, is an exhilarating demonstration of what is possible.
That is why Christopher Rüping, director of “Dionysos City”, agreed so quickly. Pees had overseen the play as dramaturge at its premiere in autumn 2018 at the Münchner Kammerspiele, from where it began its triumphal march through the world of theater. Four parts: Prometheus, Troy, the Oresty and a satyr play, ten hours long, that eluded normal theater consumption right from the start. You had to get involved, together with the other spectators, then it was a great experience. “Dionysus City” was also abruptly buried in March 2020, a ten-hour project is pretty much the last thing you can imagine under Corona conditions. But pretty much the best for summer construction.
Because it makes so much sense out there, this piece about gods and people, about heavenly powers and universal questions about freedom and responsibility. It’s a bit like bringing the piece “home”, says Rüping. To where it belongs. Ancient theater and the Dionysia, from whose idea Rüping was inspired, took place outside anyway, presumably with less rain, but with all the adversities that come with it. “This project is the riskiest venture I’ve ever undertaken in the theater. And ultimately that’s what theater is good at: risking,” says Rüping before the performance.
Chained to the Caucasus for thousands of years, covered in eagle poop: Benjamin Radjaipour as Prometheus.
(Photo: Jörg Baumann)
In the absence of a cord floor, for example, there is now a crane from which Prometheus’ cage can be lowered into the theater and pulled up. The actors (the original cast from Munich) had to get used to the arena. The fact that they are now being looked at from six sides. The text is more difficult to understand, fine nuances are swallowed up by the open sky. And you can forget lighting moods outside before 8 p.m. anyway.
The ten hours on this Saturday are long and exhausting and cold. The traffic on the nearby street is unmistakable, every few minutes a plane thunders over the arena sky towards Frankfurt. The lack of darkness in the auditorium makes it harder to concentrate; they are unpacking snacks in the balconies across the street. But also this: When the unfortunate Prometheus ekes out his millennia-long sentence chained to the Caucasus and dangling in a cage in the middle of the arena, a swarm of swallows screeches over him.
“We wrested the project and this place from reality with incredible energy from everyone involved. I think you can feel that,” says Rüping. And it’s true, this theater wouldn’t exist without the pandemic. The stakes are higher on both sides, with the audience and the people on stage, as is the potential for disappointment, but in the best case also the wages. So shortly after midnight, with the last part of the piece, the sun rises over the Offenbach night sky, a glowing balloon, where can you find that.