Jakob Nolte

Suppose you had gone into politics. And had recently won an important election. And were able to announce good news straight away: The war is over. And that would be true, at least for the most part. Perhaps only smouldering in a few corners and, of course, many deaths, destruction, catastrophic conditions - somewhere a new war. But on the surface, perhaps also metaphorically to some extent, the hope could be expressed: The war is over. Sounds simple. But not for Staube. Because Staube always wants to mean what he says. But even the speech coaching with Pasel remains unsuccessful. However, this could also be due to the fact that Staube doesn't really come across as credible. Everyone even questions the death of his mother. It's somehow also a question of type. Ruppinger from the opposition party, for example, would have had no problem at all with this sentence.
Against the backdrop of all the ongoing and fermenting wars, the announcement of the end seems grotesque. "The war is over" can never correspond to reality. Neither a poetic nor a political one. Jakob Nolte takes the sentence as an opportunity to have his characters from politics, theatre and business discuss war and politics, reality and truth, theory and practice in absurdly grotesque and painfully clever, yet relentlessly winding philosophical and increasingly revealing loops. No pointing fingers are raised here, but the parameters are shifted again and again. What remains is the question of how much politics has to do with reality. And how much reality people can bear at all. A a play that, for all its comedy, could not be more timeless and burningly topical.
"Why can't our politics be conceptual, free and break the mould? Why can't our politics be a crystal that glitters in the dark?"