StudenTheatre: Kurbenhaus

Kurbenhaus. One performance, four bodies, which mean nothing more than merchandise. When the brothel shuts its doors and the snake-like dances stop, the real fun begins. Undressing, removing makeup, unnecessary giggling, and a tilted glass. The glamour of fame blinds the child, the mother sings the last lullaby. The position of a woman has a double meaning, the position of a man only one. How many words will be spoken before the tongue twists in such a way that it explores the boundary between coercion and desire? How many rounds of applause are needed before the dream world collapses on its decaying foundations? Say, can you see, by the dawn’s early light, what so proudly we hailed at the twilight’s last gleaming?