Rotterdam-based collective Club Gewalt will arrive at Neuköllner Oper with the premiere of NOISE. Known for their idiosyncratic performance style – delightfully playful, fiercely political and never afraid to embrace full cringe – the group have built a reputation for gleefully dismantling expectations. Their past productions include feminist punk Christmas musicals, killjoy operas about institutional racism and slut pop concerts, so it’s fair to say that nothing is off the table. Their latest work dives head-first into the apocalyptic mood of our current moment: climate collapse, the rise of fascism and the ever-present spectre of war. Returning to opera as their chosen vehicle, the ensemble join forces in song, attempting to rise above the noise and sift through the wreckage of contemporary life. But the production isn’t simply a doom-scroll played out in 3-D. Beneath the drama sits a surprisingly earnest message, one as old as time: that love, in all of its messy and magnificent forms, might still outlast hate. We caught up with the members of the collective between rehearsals; they collectively answered our questions about how NOISE is taking shape and what Berlin audiences can expect from this gloriously catastrophic performance opera.
What was the inspiration for NOISE?
Sanna, one of the performers of Club Gewalt, became a mother in 2021. She was confronted with her responsibility for a child in a world, which is facing a range of huge crises: the imminent collapse of our ecosystem; the atrocities people are capable of committing to each other, for instance of the state of Israel to the people of Palestine; the rise of fascism; the pollution of our vegetables and water. This all led to an existential crisis where, in order to fight cynicism (which can be a very dark place, especially if you have children), she was forced to search for the meaning of life. In NOISE, Sanna and the other members of Club Gewalt try to find meaning within a world threatened by, or already in collapse. They try to fall back in love with being human.
The show is described as being “intensely immersive”. In what ways are audiences drawn into the spectacle, and how does their presence shape the experience?
We want to make the audience laugh, cry and cringe. In that state, and through unjudgmental curiosity, we believe we all have a chance to learn something.
Club Gewalt believes art is capable of transforming humans and society. In our work, we aim to pull people in through, on the one hand, playing with engaging pop cultural conventions and references, and on the other, by placing them in unknown territory by exploring the uncomfortable. We also hope that, in making art for the love of humanity, we might weave a bit more softness and goodness into the fabric of the universe. We use music as our main language for all of that. We live in a society that addresses the mind. Music addresses the heart. We want to make the audience laugh, cry and cringe. In that state, and through unjudgmental curiosity, we believe we all have a chance to learn something. In NOISE, we start in an awkward, weird seminar on stress, and from there take the audience on a sensory journey, using music, image and performance. We hope it will be funny, unsettling, moving and in the end, cathartic.
Is opera new territory for Club Gewalt? What drew you to this medium, and what does it allow you to explore that other forms might not?
We’ve never worked in the traditional discipline or genre of opera, but somehow the opera scene does feel the closest to home. Opera is unapologetic, bold, ambitious and the audience is prepared to be addressed on multiple sensory levels. They open their ears and expect to find meaning in music and sound. Theatre usually focuses more on finding meaning in text. Concerts often leave little space for reading the image or performance. With opera, the audience is attentive and knows they have work to do as well. We like that.
As a collective, how do you navigate the emotional labour involved in researching and creating work around such charged subject matter?
Play and humour are very important tools for us. We play around with subjects, make jokes about them, create space to breathe – to gain perspective and learn new things. We approach it from a place of curiosity, and curiosity is light. This is necessary to live life, especially in these times, but really in all times. We’re all going to die one day. We all have to face that somewhat harsh reality. In order to face harsh realities, we also need laughter. To feel, and appreciate being alive.
What do you hope audiences take away from the piece? Are you proposing tools for navigating these apocalyptic forecasts, or is the aim something else?
Yes, our proposal is a simple one, and at the same time, one that bears a lot of work and responsibility. We need to reimagine a world where human rights are more important than geo-political and economical development. After the second World War, the West installed a narrative of linear progress. We need to let go of this narrative, since it’s only serving a handful of humans today. We want to bid farewell to certain systems and make space for grieving them so that we can appreciate being alive and rediscover that it’s worth fighting for. We hope to gain the mental resilience to face realities, to take action, to fight oppression, by not sticking our head in the mud. Not for humans alone, but for all living things.
You’ve said the goal is “learning how to love being human again”. Do you feel we’ve lost touch with our humanity, with the world and with one another?
“Falling back in love with being human,” is a quote from Kai Cheng Thom, a Chinese-Canadian trans psychotherapist, activist and writer. She wrote a series of ‘letters to lost souls’ in an attempt to regain her faith in humanity, and we thought that was beautiful. It’s tempting to become cynical about the future – or the present, or the past even. But we’re alive, we’re here now, living the human experience. Being alive, especially when that life holds a lot of privileges like ours (white people) does, comes with a big responsibility to also cherish it – also in the face of so many who didn’t get the chance to.
Bad Bunny stated it powerfully once again: “The only thing more powerful than hate is love.”
NOISE is on Apr 16 – May 7 at the Neuköllner Oper and will be performed in English.
