Humor through the back door

When cabaret artist Gerhard Polt and the Well brothers board the Munich Kammerspiel stage, it can only be cheerful.

On January 28, her newly conceived, pitch-black comedy about a deceased undertaker will premiere.

We met her for an interview.

Gerhard Polt announces himself with a yodel.

It reverberates loudly through the corridors of the Munich Kammerspiele, where we have an appointment with the Well brothers and the Swiss director Ruedi Häusermann for a face-to-face talk.

The ensemble was just rehearsing.

The theatrical legacy comedy “A scheene Leich” that pokes fun at death, or rather, those who want to make money from it.

What can viewers expect?

A sad-funny story about an undertaker who died.

The brass band rehearses the funeral music, the ex-wife rages, and the new sole heir doesn't want to give anything away.

That can be fun!

Gerhard Polt, the longest-serving member of the Kammerspiele ensemble, and his musical soul mates, the Well brothers from Biermoos, are looking forward to the premiere of this morbid farce, which smuggles profundity through the back door.

For me as a non-Bavarian - what is "A scheene Leich"?

Michael Well:

Outsiders like to take that literally and confuse it with a beautiful corpse – which of course is not at all true.

A nice corpse - that is a worthy process from the last escort.

The whole ritual between mourning and joie de vivre: It is the last celebration of the deceased.

That includes music, eating well, drinking to the point of frenzy, and at the end maybe a knife fight in the inn.

They only existed in the old days.

(Laughs.)

Speaking of earlier: As a child, the term "corpse feast" shook me...

Stofferl:

(Laughs.) Yes, you immediately had crazy images in your head.

For us, funerals were always great because there was roast pork.

Otherwise there was rarely meat.

Such a funeral was already a sensation in town.

I've known people who always knew where someone was buried.

They weren't even invited, but you weren't kicked out.

And the menu was almost always the same back then: There was roast pork without sauce, a pre-meal, so sour Lüngerl or something, certain soups and a lot of alcohol.

...and it was often discussed in the tavern who would inherit what.

So a corpse that is buried at Munich's Ostfriedhof every quarter of an hour is exactly the opposite of what we mean.

How do you come up with the idea of ​​bringing such a story to the stage?

Ruedi Häusermann:

We had a lot of ideas and they had been around for a long time.

Gradually, this theatrical piece evolved into which we wanted to incorporate something: the scandal of how old people are treated today, the privatization of care.

Actually difficult and sad topics, but we tell them with humor and lightness.

: It's a legacy comedy.

Inheritance - meaning that we are born into a society that has certain values ​​and rituals.

And we carry them on.

My granddaughter is about to inherit the ability to use cell phones quickly.

But she also experiences dealing with old people, which has not only struck me since the scandal in our retirement home in Schliersee.

Our play is about an undertaker who has also bought the municipal old people's home and forms a very profitable synergy there.

Which, by the way, is no joke, actually exists.

When you create such a scenario, do you also think about your own death?

Karli:

Yes, of course - precisely because death is being suppressed more and more in our society.

We are all at an age where the impacts are approaching.

But we first had to get used to the fact that there's a coffin on stage and you keep thinking: I'll lie in it too.

The Swiss draftsman Adolf Wölfli once said: “Everyone has to die – and maybe I too.” (Laughs.) That sums it up for me.

What funeral do you want?

Stofferl:

I have the musical sequence in my head and also put it in writing.

Years ago we made a CD with funeral music entitled "A scheene Leich".

Because it's important what sounds there.

With the sound you bury a person, and with the sound you remember them.

I just want everyone who comes to get a good, freshly tapped pint.

Tegernsee south facing.

It's not important that the deceased is happy, because that doesn't matter, but the relatives have to learn to deal with the situation and the grief - and that's where a nice corpse helps.

I wouldn't think of ordering anything.

I've been doing that all day as a director.

If you leave it to others, then it shows what memory you have set in your life.

And when Ruedi dies, I'll play my trumpet, but only if he comes to my funeral.

(Laughs.)

They are all fathers too.

What emotional legacy are you leaving to your children?

Häusermann:

I've always tried to live the attitude I want to convey to my children myself.

I think that's so crucial because otherwise they have nothing to orient themselves to or from which they can differentiate themselves.

It was always important to me to be nice enough to the children so that when they get older they are nice to me too.

Then you can see how good the upbringing really was.

That's true, but I'm also convinced that the freer and more confident a person grows up, the better they develop.

And I'm sure: What you give, you always get back.

I think you don't always have to give, a child gets what it needs for itself.

I still remember Quirin Roth, the son of a woodcarver who was a prisoner of war.

The father was still a very funny and jolly man.

And the boy suffered all his life from the fact that his father could never be serious.

That's why I say: Let children take what they want from you.

And you just keep the rest for yourself.

Astrid Kistner conducted the interview.

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Twelve-eye conversation: Gerhard Polt, the Well brothers, Ruedi Häusermann (middle) and editor Astrid Kistner

© Private

premiere

January 28, 2023, 8 p.m., in the Munich Kammerspiele

further performances

for the time being until February 27 (all sold out, remaining tickets

with a bit of luck at www.kammerspiele.de).

The March dates will be announced by the middle of next week at the latest.