The Cold Reminder (AT)

The profound loneliness of a gay man following the death of his partner serves as the starting point for young American author and director Sam Max’s adaptation, which pays homage to the original whilst also looking beyond it. Questions concerning the search for a stable sense of self, social acceptance and a sense of belonging in increasingly complex social contexts remain as relevant as ever.

Sam Max writes about his reading of *A Single Man*: “In the novel, we see the inner workings of a man who is desperately seeking connections with others, yet at the same time is struggling with grief and internalised gay shame. This leads to self-sabotage and keeps him from precisely those connections he so desperately desires. These encounters become a sort of hall of mirrors from which he cannot escape. Wherever he goes, he sees his lost dreams and his lost love, and he struggles to rewrite the narrative of his life for himself. At the same time, we see a portrait of a society that is homophobic both in latent, microaggressive ways and in extreme, direct ways. My adaptation focuses not only on sketching a character portrait of George through his relationships, but also on creating dramatic tension by exploring death and fatalities within America’s gay community.”

‘A Cold Reminder’ is the original title of Sam Max’s play. And this (not easily translatable) ‘cold reminder’ also forms the basis for the aesthetic concept of the production, which plays with the circular nature of time.

The original title is inspired by a line from the novel that reminds us to take the relentless passage of time seriously: “But now isn’t simply now. Now is also a cold reminder: one whole day later than yesterday, one year later than last year. Every ‘now’ is marked with its date, rendering all past ‘nows’ obsolete, until – later or sooner – perhaps, no, not perhaps – quite certainly: it will come.” (But ‘now’ is not simply ‘now’. ‘Now’ is also a stark reminder: a whole day has passed since yesterday, a year later than last year. Every ‘now’ is marked with a date that renders every past ‘now’ obsolete, until perhaps – sooner or later – no, not perhaps, quite certainly: it will come.)