“Decisions are made here.” It is one of the first movements of Tuğsal Moğul’s play “And Now Hanau” and probably the reason for the unusual performance location in the Schöneberg town hall. Critical theater directly from the heart of city society and the former official residence of the West Berlin mayor.
On February 19, 2020, a right-wing extremist assassin murdered nine people: Gökhan Gültekin, Sedat Gürbüz, Said Nesar Hashemi, Mercedes Kierpacz, Hamza Kurtović, Vili Viorel Păun, Fatih Saraçoğlu, Ferhat Unvar and Kaloyan Velkov. The name of the perpetrator is deliberately not mentioned in Moğul’s production. Ten days before the fourth anniversary of the racist attack, the work provides an emotional and angry reappraisal of the acts.
The playwright reconstructs the night of the right-wing extremist assassination attempt with the help of four actors. The play was created in cooperation with the 19 February Hanau initiative. Those involved work small-scale and extremely hard. The course of February 19, 2020 is replayed meticulously. Many of the relatives sit in the first rows of the Willy Brandt Hall.
But it’s not just the frightening racist murders that are being remembered this Friday evening in Berlin-Schöneberg, but also the failure of the police and authorities to deal with them. “You won’t hear or see anything here that you haven’t already heard or seen,” begins a monologue by actor Tim Weckenbrock. What makes Tuğsal Moğul’s production reminiscent in the following 85 minutes is even more astonishing.
The deaths of nine young people could have been prevented in many places. What would have happened if the perpetrator had not received a firearms license because of his publicly presented right-wing extremist views and the 15 forced admissions to psychiatric treatment? What if he had been monitored because of his unusual behavior? If Vili Viorel Păun’s emergency calls had been answered? If the emergency exit in the Hanau Arena Bar hadn’t been blocked? How can it be that 13 of the 19 SEK officers at the crime scene were later proven to be members of right-wing extremist chat groups? Who bears the consequences for these serious mistakes?
But the piece doesn’t leave out viewers like me – members of the white majority society who are not affected by racism. “They are still afraid of names that are unfamiliar to them. They are not afraid of the perpetrator. They are afraid of a pandemic, but not afraid of right-wing extremists and right-wing extremists in the police and in politics.” Author Moğul asks the recipient what they are doing about their own racism.
“And Now Hanau” also brings viewers closer to the perspective of relatives. Their hope and sadness on the night of February 19th, their unanswered questions, their despair at the inaction of the police and unspoken apologies from politicians. The names and faces thus become sons, brothers and partners.
When the families of some of the victims appeared on stage at the end, tears rolled down the cheeks of quite a few people in the sold-out Willy Brandt Hall at Schöneberg Town Hall. During the standing ovation that followed, the relatives were also visibly emotional. It seems as if Tuğsal Moğul, Alaaeldin Dyab, Agnes Lampkin, Regina Leenders and Tim Weckenbrock have created something that the German authorities have failed to do: compassion and processing.
This is not a classic drama. The failure of the authorities before, during and after the right-wing extremist murders in Hanau is presented in an impressive, detailed and emotionally objective manner. Many are shocked, but hardly anyone is surprised that evening. This production seems all the more important.
