Liselot Siddiki / LOUD

It must be born. Like a spirit emerging from the cunt.

In ›SCHWEINEREI‹ by Liselot Siddiki / LOUD, two figures lock themselves away in a bunker. They are twins. They are lovers. They are puppets, performers, spirits of the theatre. fallen angels. They are repulsive and seductive at the same time. The last descendants of a Europe that has reproduced itself for centuries until it became sick. Behind them lie Versailles, Marie-Antoinette, Mozart, the aristocracy, the theatre. Everything that was beautiful. They have turned it into a paradise. But paradise is rotten. They party while the world outside perishes. They play, eat, make music. Their bodies become entwined. Their embrace turns into a knot. They love each other so much that they suffocate one another.

Then their bodies begin to speak out. What was swallowed up – culture, beauty, violence, guilt, desire – comes pouring out, breaking through an inner wall. Inside becomes outside. Their artificial bodies begin to leak incessantly.

›SCHWEINEREI‹ is a love letter to the theatre and a reckoning with its ghosts. A state of being. An exorcism.