Zum Lachen in den Keller

Jury statement

The German idiom „zum Lachen in den Keller gehen“ describes someone who is humourless and very serious – a person who does not show joy or laughter in public. Someone who, figuratively speaking, goes down to the basement to laugh is inhibited and keeps their emotions hidden.

At the entrance, we are personally welcomed by basement-dwelling figures wearing white masks. They read our palms and guide us down the stairs into the auditorium. Once inside, we see a classic cellar setting: storage shelves, a band with a drum kit, washing lines and piles of laundry. An ordinary basement – yet for the group it is many things at once: a place to store food, a laundry room, a shelter, a retreat, a party space, and also something slightly eerie.

Over the course of an hour, 17 young people aged 14 to 21 share their stories. We encounter performers with and without experiences of displacement, from Syria, Afghanistan, Sri Lanka, Paraguay, Ukraine, Germany and Romania. They take us into the hidden spaces of their inner worlds, opening doors that would otherwise remain closed. The group combines theatre with music, dance and puppetry. The white masked figures support those who enter the space, accompanying them and listening when the weight of memories becomes too great.

The ensemble weaves together their individual themes and brings to the stage emotions they might otherwise keep concealed. In this basement, everyone feels safe; they support one another and create space for each other. Here, many questions are explored: what does it mean to grow up in the context of displacement and migration? What uncertainties, fears and detours are part of that journey? Which taboos come to light in the basement? How do we learn German, and how does language shape us? What do we consider fun – and what makes us laugh? Which feelings do we prefer to keep to ourselves? How do we relate to food, and what challenges do we face with our own bodies?

Issues such as body shame and eating disorders are addressed with striking openness. This openness also prompts questions for us as an audience: what are we ashamed of? What parts of ourselves would we rather hide? The collective songs performed by the group carry a particular emotional power.

In this way, the young people’s questions become questions for the audience as well. We must decide whether to speak about our shame or to conceal it. Perhaps we remain a little longer in the basement, allowing the white figures to hold us, sharing why we come here to laugh at all. Perhaps we listen more attentively – to the ensemble, but also to one another. And perhaps we find the courage to reveal our own imperfections and learn, together, a language of care and respect.

Andreas Kroder and Fernando da Ponte