»I am so angry at the world, or the system, or myself because I’ve betrayed everything that I didn’t believe in, or did we really believe we were saving the world? They just lay there as decoration, the books, the feminist, Marxist, queer books, they were just lying about displaying their titles, which we never read beyond because we’d rather watch our series.«
A speaker – »I’m in the age group that makes doctors decide against putting me on a ventilator when an up-and-coming portfolio manager is in the bed next to mine.« – takes ruthless stock of her life and that of an entire generation in neoliberalism.
»I’d expected that, in anticipation of my death, my subconscious would show me fascinating images of my successful life. And that I’d just repressed them, these unique moments full of fulfilment, love and exotic places. But what’s playing now can only be described as below average. Furniture and refrigerators, sad holidays and the absence of love.«
Sibylle Berg, an optimistic pessimist, as she describes herself, puts her brilliance on display once more. She has succeeded in creating a startling, furious and intense play full of linguistic wit, attitude and humour. »Did anyone – for goodness’ sake – prepare us for this affront? That we suddenly become unimportant? Invisible, even when we play by the rules? The ones that exist for women.«
Und sicher ist mit mir die Welt verschwunden, in a production once again directed by Sebastian Nübling, is the fourth and final part of the saga that Sibylle Berg has written for the Gorki. The journey of the young, multi-part speaker, which Berg began with the brilliant Es sagt mir nichts, das sogenannte Draußen, and accompanied on the search for happiness in an unhappy world with Und dann kam Mirna and Nach uns das All – Das innereTeam kennt keine Pause, she ends in an ostensibly elegiac way, with a polyphonic speaker looking back at her life. CUT. ACTION.
Nominated for »Stücke 2021« at 46. Mülheimer Theatertage
Premiere: October 24th, 2020
Watch the stream
Photo: Esra Rotthoff
Stage photos: Ute Langkafel