Name: Warm-up
Start: 2026-05-31T17:00:00
Location: Schauspiel Köln

Bühnen Köln

The most famous murder in Greek tragedy takes place in a bathtub. Clytemnestra, Queen of Argos, murders her husband Agamemnon after his victorious return from the Trojan War—in revenge for sacrificing their daughter Iphigenia for favorable winds. But Clytemnestra's triumph is short-lived. Orestes, her own son, stabs her with his sword to atone for Agamemnon's death. From then on, Orestes is hunted by the Erinyes, avenging spirits who follow him from the temple at Delphi to Athens. There, he is put on trial before the goddess Athena. The jury ultimately acquits him. But is this victory of the law over the principle of blood vengeance, which has become part of literary history, also a victory for justice? Australian director Adena Jacobs certainly questions this. She stages THE ORESTETY in a version that focuses on the crimes against Iphigenia and Clytemnestra. What about the rage that remains after the murder of daughter and mother? The anger that cannot be appeased by Athena's exhortation, "Women, do not be angry"? Adena Jacobs works in and on the neglected spaces of antiquity, combining acting with dance and video art into a feminist Gesamtkunstwerk.

The Oresteia

Schauspiel Köln

Imagine the world were a village. Imagine peace reigned there. Now imagine night falling over the houses and the streetlights shining. Picture it clearly. Behind the windows, people were eating their bread and drinking their tea. And the children were reading peacefully in bed before their father kissed them and their mother turned out the light. Now imagine a shadow creeping across the deserted village square. And there, in the greenhouse, plants grew menacingly—and on the altar lay an ominous book containing holy scriptures. And a package full of uniforms appeared as if from nowhere before the fence. And then a strange song sounded in the sky. Picture it clearly—like a crack in the firmament. Imagine it drawing people from their beds, and together they gazed up at the sky. And with hearts pounding in their chests, they wondered what was approaching them. An angel? A drone? A deadly missile that burns and destroys everything? We're at the beginning of a great story. There is no fatherland and no reason for murder and war. And everyone lives only in the here and now. Imagine that. It's easy if you try. Welcome to IMAGINE.

Imagine

If urban planning were a concert, what would the livable city of the future sound like? How does one sing of "bridge renovation" and "transformation," how does one intone "shading strategy"? And which voices herald ecological change? We speak with people from the construction industry and urban development, with economists, futurologists, and activists about the existing plans for a sustainable Cologne—and about the resistance they encounter. From these firsthand accounts emerges a music theater piece by Cologne residents for Cologne, a vocal concert for three actresses, two Cologne choirs, and a city of the future. "For here we have no lasting city, but we seek the one to come," says Johannes Brahms in his "Requiem," which, sung by the Cologne Cathedral Choir, resonates from the crumbling city walls. Director Anna-Sophie Mahler specializes in weaving together research material and music. She became known for her production of "Mittelreich" at the Munich Kammerspiele, which was invited to the Berlin Theatertreffen in 2016. Most recently, her production of Tennessee Williams' "Camino Real" at the Volkstheater Wien, featuring the band Calexico live on stage, was a resounding success.

Requiem for a dilapidated bridge

Kolumba

"Dzudza" rises directly from the vibrant streets of Maputo, telling a powerful story of resilience, community, and resistance. Body, movement, and song merge into a poetic choreography that floods the stage like a living sea. Inspired by hymns, children's games, and traditional folk songs, the performance creates a space where spirituality, everyday life, and identity intertwine. A central symbol is the capulana—the traditional Mozambican fabric. It envelops the dancers and represents connection, protection, and the transcendence of rigid boundaries between male and female, local and global.

Dzudza

In times of increasing social tensions, the question arises as to what role art and culture can play in fostering cohesion, visibility, and social responsibility. With this year's festival theme, "Solidarity Under Pressure - Responsibility in Culture," we aim to explore diverse perspectives on this topic. The panel will include cultural workers and activists discussing solidarity practices within the cultural sector, including festival director Rolf Emmerich, activist and diversity officer Joana Peprah, Tina Sanders from the Cologne-based association mittendrin e. V., and Member of the German Bundestag Helge Lindh. Together, they will discuss how cultural institutions can assume responsibility, the current challenges they face, and how solidarity structures can be developed in practice.

Solidarity under pressure

From Berlin's Alexanderplatz in 2020 to the gates of a postcard-perfect castle in 2025: Singer Gaspár Ali's journey is a chronicle of radicalization. Where once the measured words of civil rights activist Fred Hampton stood, today reigns the pure rage of the punk band GRENZKONTROLLE . Their debut song "REVOLUTION" marks the turning point for a generation that, caught between unaffordable housing and the collapse of political and climatic systems, sees no room for gentleness. It is a musical manifesto against the blindness of the privileged and the dramatic upheavals of our time.

Border Control

Every two weeks, inclusion activist and media producer Raúl Krauthausen invites well-known personalities to his podcast "Im Aufzug" (In the Elevator) to discuss current social issues. On May 23, the podcast will be recorded live at Depot 2 of the Schauspiel Köln (Cologne Theatre) as part of the Sommerblut Culture Festival. His guest is the deaf activist and psychologist Katrin Maag, better known as Katrin Aimee. Together, they will discuss disability, solidarity, and social participation. Katrin Aimee uses social media to advocate for feminism and raise awareness of ableism. Her first book, "Unüberhörbar" (Unmissable), will be published in March 2026.

In the elevator

Overhead Project, the host company of the CircusDanceFestival, presents us with "What is left," a piece that exposes the beauty and brutality of everyday social fashion shows. Bodies appear approachable, yet are simultaneously staged in an uncanny, strategic way. Authentic presence and a cool mode of presentation stand distorted side by side. In the struggle for attention, a sweat-drenched mountain of bodies spirals relentlessly upwards. Between catwalk, parade, and passive voyeurism, the five acrobats and dancers hold a mirror up to us with radical presence. A powerful, physically intense circus piece, which won the Cologne Dance Prize in 2023. With their work at the intersection of contemporary circus and dance, Overhead Project has been a defining force in Cologne's independent arts scene for over fifteen years.

What is Left

From MAD PRIDE, we move directly to BIG BÄÄM: Starting at 3:30 pm, the Carlsgarten in front of the Schauspiel Köln will be transformed into a stage for a vibrant program of music and insightful speeches. Among other things, we will hear a presentation by Raúl Krauthausen on the topic of solidarity and disability.

Big Bam

“Work Body” finds its inspiration in Pier Paolo Pasolini’s poem “Le ceneri di Gramsci” (The Ashes of Gramsci). Pasolini dedicated these lines to the Marxist thinker and co-founder of the Italian Communist Party, Antonio Gramsci—who, like the choreographer Michael Turinsky himself, lived with a physical disability. Turinsky uses this sensual and intellectual homage to find an artistic response to the current rightward shift in the working-class milieu and the associated fantasies of masculinity. At its core lies Gramsci’s concept of “buon senso”: the authentic core of the working class’s experience.

Work Body

The Corona pandemic triggers a crisis for ensemble member Claude De Demo: she has no childcare, she's afraid, and she has too little time. Suddenly, feelings arise that a mother—according to stereotypical roles—shouldn't have. On the contrary, she thinks: I'm an unhappy mother—even though I love my children. With this comes the doubt: Am I not woman enough? Am I not human enough? Overwhelmed, stagnant, and exhausted, she feels the need to present a more realistic picture of motherhood, far removed from the idealized image of homemade jam and lullabies. With #MOTHERFUCKINGHOOD, she and director Jorinde Dröse bring to the stage all those perceptions and injustices that are so often ignored, that find no place in the image of the eternally patient, self-sacrificing mother. Based on intensive research, conversations with academics, and texts by various authors, a collage about motherhood, care work, and the persistent feelings of guilt and anger has emerged. It's about the reality of the gender pay gap, mental load, childcare places and the "maternal instinct", as well as the question: If the truth about motherhood is on the table, how many women will still choose it voluntarily?

#Motherfuckinghood

Where does language end and where does mayhem begin? When the infamous Herbert Fritsch appears, all the conventions of the theater go flying. Besides his proven extraordinary talent for directing comedies, he has developed his own unique theatrical language in recent years: beyond words, beyond meaning. He repeatedly brings texts to the stage that weren't intended for it, texts in which words become music ("Murmel Murmel"). When the Dada café Cabaret Voltaire opened in Zurich in 1916 and Dadaism was invented, someone commented: "That's a collection of young people who are creative and wanted to make a fuss." Ha! Dada is exactly Herbert Fritsch's thing. And mayhem too! A riot, a thunderous roar of irrationality, a hurricane of unbridled, unrestrained artistic venting. We no longer use the verb "rabatzen" (to cause a ruckus). It once meant "to hit," "to wrestle," "to rage," "to be in lust"—and that's the instruction given to the ensemble. Herbert Fritsch loves the stage, the theater, and people who love all of that too. Thirteen years after his last Cologne production—Brecht's "Puntila and His Servant Matti" as a "festival of unleashed actors" (Deutschlandradio)—he's back. Entirely in the Dada tradition, he embarks on a search for the unspeakable, the non-representational, the dissolution of language, which should, in fact, be redemption.

Riot!

Shortly before the performance begins, we actively immerse ourselves in the production, performing, engaging with the narrative, and familiarizing ourselves with the themes. A warm-up for all those eager to participate, while the ensemble simultaneously prepares backstage.