Jens Roselt

“To tell you the truth, I had to lie.”
The North Sea coast. A view of a landscape made of sand dunes. A summery scene and the setting for a bizarre encounter against the backdrop of an intergovernmental conference. Three interpreters, all in their thirties, meet one another abruptly. Tristan, the only internationally active translator between German and Swahili, and in this context a sun-bronzed Adonis; Marie Claire, a qualified associate and original imposter of French vocabulary in diplomatic service; and Brigitte, the third player in this Dollmatch, who has made an emergency landing with a hang glider in the nature conservation area.
An eccentric game around the identity of the characters begins. These “poker faces with security clearance”, as Jens Roselt calls them, present a kind of being that can neither sense nor be held responsible for the difference between appearance and reality. “They don’t take anything seriously or as true, but, nevertheless, the rules of the game require you to act as if everything is serious and true. You can’t tell the difference between what’s true and false any more, between what’s serious and trivial, although the characters kid themselves and others into believing they know the exact demarcations.”
This traversing of the borders enables a fatal game within a game, and its intensity has extreme consequences: “Project Götterdämmerung” in Bonn. In the shadows of an official reception and crisis summit, the violation of borders transpires as an act of terrorism. Marie Claire turns out to be an accomplice-in-waiting of the attack masterminded by Brigitte from afar. The bomb goes up – and both become indifferent observers in and of their own production.