Helmut Krausser

They speak of themselves as two princes, the two old men in the loft of a high-rise, sitting on "boards which only mean boards." Or is it not a loft after all? Is the place of action even a part of this world? One man is thirsty, the other one has a pipe. The man with the pipe, whom we already know from Wednesday, has returned home to his friend/roommate/competitor. To the one with the eyepatch. The two figures remain nameless; they hurl old memories of their acting careers into each other’s faces. They both specialized in playing princes' roles, but have now apparently retired and are experiencing a crisis. They argue and revile each other, reconcile themselves, pose in front of each other, posture, debate about old triumphs and scandals. They talk about how they became princes in 15th century Italy, how they served as mercenaries under Lucrezia Borgia, how they played with human lives on Monte Amiata, how they drank pear schnapps with Prince Esterhazy as Haydn sat at the spinet. They even served time in a concentration camp. And there’s something new to tell: Lucrezia, born anew, is said to have opened an art gallery under the name of Lucy, one floor below the “Princely Suite.” Is she looking for these last witnesses of her past? Or is it just a coincidence? Isn’t it high time that something sensible happen? But how?

Donnerstag - Die Fürsten is a parlando play for two old, still-fiery actors, somewhere between metaphysics and Matthau/Lemmon. (Helmut Krausser)

Donnerstag - Die Fürsten, commissioned for the Frankfurter Positionen in 2003, was presented in October 2003 in a scenic reading.