Craggy rocks, a mammoth, wisps of fog: this opulent stage design takes the audience to the cave in the Neandertal where, in 1865, the skeleton of an early human was found. Wearing a robe of fur, Malte Scholz bares the vulnerability of his soul in a moving monologue.

In days of old, in order to assuage feuds, people compensated injuries with benefits in kind, instead of revenging them eye for an eye. It was thus of great import to precisely differentiate whether, for example, an injured eyelid could still hold a tear, if a lame foot could still knock the dew from a piece of grass or if a blow to the head had exposed the brain. The collective appraisal of wounds opened up a symbolic space of negotiation and society. Here, our vulnerability appears as the bedrock of money and the economy, which now, it seems, are in turn responsible for inflicting harm and feelings of deep indignity upon us. Is it possible to remain vulnerable in this world without going under? ›Great Depressions‹ is a show about the question of whether and, if so, how we want to live together.