Mittwoch, 18. Mai 2011

My name is Sputnik

Since a long time I wanted to see Kino-Sputnik. I've heard about it from various articles or friends feedback, and for me, it's another example of the symbolical life of Berlin - the connection with the communist/Soviet representations of past and present, integrated through simple names, as Sputnik - a name given, by the way, to a radio station in German. 
But I found the place completely accidental, while chilling out in the area near Südstern after a friend told me it's unacceptable that I never put my feet in this area during my 2 years of intensive staying in Berlin. I saw first an arrow and enter the big Hof, and then went up at the first floor. As far as I remember, it's no elevator. 
Once entered there, I was curious to see more about the smallest cinema in Berlin. Created in 1984, this is one of the most intimate cinema I ever met in Berlin. Warm lights, not too many decorations, a nice bar...You feel like being invited at a private salon for a discussion and a 5 o'clock coffee. 
One single problem: I visited the cinema out of the usual program. A man and a woman, working there, were the single human beings around. The young man let me enter the small halls and take some pictures. But the woman, the woman, asked at least twice why do I make the photos, and although I tried to be very kind and interested in making quietly my photos and go, she interrupted my work from time to time with various observations about what I was doing: Do you know that out of the normal schedule we don't accept visitors? (the door was wide opened and I didn't ask her a special favor?) I will be curious what you are doing those pictures? (I checked over the Internet, I didn't found bad reports about this cinema) and so on and so forth. I hoped it was just the worst day of her life and she is in fact a friendly and nice person in her everyday existence. 

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