2024-11-07 10:29:00
Joachim Meyerhoff has chosen three professions in which it is clear from the start that one is always destined to fail catastrophically. He is an actor, writer and father. He also had a stroke that left him so traumatized that, even after recovery, his brain continued to cause his body to simulate the symptoms of the stroke.
“Subdued by beta-blockers, I lay on the couch in my underwear for hours on end, losing myself in introspective tears, caressing my belly or staring at the screen of a small home ECG machine, anxiously awaiting the next extrasystole.”
He becomes increasingly irritable until he ends up ruining his son’s ninth birthday party by yelling at him in front of all the other children that he is embarrassed to “have a son who behaves so badly”. You are, says his wife, “of an unpredictability that borders on cruelty.”
Kurhotel Mamma
So, at 56, he stayed for a few weeks with his mother, who lives on a spacious property in Schleswig-Holstein. She is 86 years old and has an almost maniacal vitality that forces her to climb apple trees, sit on her tractor, dart around tree trunks in tight radiuses, dive into the Baltic Sea and swim among swarms of jellyfish.
She reacts to her son’s life crisis with the calm of experienced mothers. He gives him a bed, drinks whiskey with him, saves him from tests, his therapy is this: “Today we go swimming… this year there are only a few fire jellyfish, and I have already taken cortisone for ” Sometimes old ladies come with whom she sings in the choir, then they get happily drunk, and when at night she sits in the sauna, she sharpens a scythe, completely naked, in the steam: “I still have to take the faded yellow field scythe down.
Meyerhoff talks about all this in “You can also fall from a height”. It is the sixth part of the novel of his life, with which he became first an acclaimed theatrical self-promoter and then a best-selling author – the book he wrote when he could no longer think of what else he could write. Everything had been told: his childhood in the psychiatric clinic run by his father, the accidental death of his brother, his time at the Munich acting school, during which he lived with his eccentric grandparents, the complicated erotic maneuvers of his years as a young actor : magnificent material that his life, such as it has become, can no longer keep up with.
“Write about me,” says the mother. “‘About you? You’re not dead yet.’ – ‘Yes, exactly, about me. I would be happy if I could read it before I die. I’m eighty-six years old and I’m fine.’
“Congratulations. Great handjob!”
But then he manages to do it. At some point the machine restarts and works without problems. The mother has potential, is funny and strangely crazy, and during the weeks spent with her he also thinks of never-before-told theatrical anecdotes: how in every performance of ”What You Want” in Bielefeld he was put in a papier-mâché pumpkin that had a disgusting smell, or in a production by a Polish director he had to play a young sex-addicted priest who committed suicide in a confessional out of shame by masturbating:
“A colleague passed by at the premiere party, put his arm, which had become heavy from beer, on my shoulder and smiled. He only said three words, I think he really meant it with appreciation, but to me it seemed like pure teasing. He simply said, “Congratulations.” Great wank!’”
Meyerhoff can still pull it off, even if he’s become a dark, lost and confused piece of grief, he’s just an actor who knows exactly how to set up a punchline and where widescreen pathos is called for. These are somewhat old-fashioned tricks, one sometimes thinks when reading, if I were a literary critic, that is, if I practiced a profession in which you can never fail, because all you need to do is complain a little and give punishments.
But if you read professionally without distortion, you will find yourself laughing like crazy at Meyerhoff’s stories. And fall madly in love with his mother. Especially when she herself falls in love with a younger man who, as she confesses to him, is only 83 years old, and therefore her son has to leave again so as not to get in her way. “‘Are you satisfied with what you wrote?’ “Hm.” “Do you think it will be a book?” “I don’t know, Mom.” ‘To be honest, I’d rather not appear.’” People are immensely grateful to Meyerhoff for not sticking to this principle.
Joachim Meyerhoff: „You can also fall in height“. Kiepenheuer & Witsch, 358 pages, 26 euros.
Interview between Time.news Editor and Joachim Meyerhoff
Time.news Editor (TNE): Welcome, Joachim! It’s a pleasure to have you here. Your latest book, You Can Also Fall from a Height, sheds light on some deeply personal and challenging experiences, especially following your stroke. Can you share with us what inspired you to delve into these experiences so candidly?
Joachim Meyerhoff (JM): Thank you for having me! My stroke was a turning point in my life. It shook me to my core, and for a long time, I struggled with the aftermath. I found myself in a very vulnerable state—physically and emotionally. Writing this book felt like a therapeutic necessity. I wanted to explore not just my struggles but the relationships and dynamics within my family, particularly with my mother.
TNE: Your relationship with your mother is intriguing, especially the way you describe her vitality. How did her perspective shape your healing process?
JM: My mother is a force of nature—vibrant, unpredictable, and refreshingly honest. When I stayed with her during my recovery, she approached my crises with an infectious calmness. It was as if she knew exactly how to draw me out of my introspection and into the present. Whether we were swimming in the Baltic Sea or sharing a whiskey, her company was a reminder that life goes on amidst chaos.
TNE: You mentioned moments of humor and absurdity throughout your time with her. How important do you think humor is when dealing with life’s complexities?
JM: Humor is essential! It serves as a coping mechanism, a way to navigate the dark times. My mother often finds humor in the strangest situations, and it’s contagious. When I started blending those moments into my writing, I realized that they provided a lightness that was incredibly healing—not just for me, but for my readers too.
TNE: In your book, there’s a very poignant scene where you confront the tension between being a parent and your own struggles. Can you elaborate on that aspect?
JM: Absolutely. As an actor and writer, I often put pressure on myself to perform perfectly in every role—fatherhood included. After my stroke, I found myself snapping at my son during a birthday party, which made me reflect on my own imperfections. This book isn’t just about my journey; it’s about acknowledging that failure is a part of life and that we don’t always meet the expectations we set for ourselves—especially as parents.
TNE: Your experiences range from the profound to the absurd. How do you balance these elements in your storytelling?
JM: It’s a delicate dance. Life is inherently unpredictable, and I try to capture that in my writing. One moment, I could be overwhelmed by a serious issue, and the next, something absurd happens that completely shifts the narrative. I think recognizing the absurdity in our struggles allows for a richer, more relatable narrative for readers.
TNE: As you’ve explored in your writing, life is a series of failures interspersed with triumphs. How do you see this reflected in your journey as a writer and performer?
JM: Failure is unavoidable. In both writing and acting, you learn more from your mistakes than your successes. Each time I stumble, I gain a clearer perspective on what resonates with me and those around me. It’s liberating to embrace that imperfection instead of striving for an unattainable ideal.
TNE: Lastly, what message do you hope your readers take away from You Can Also Fall from a Height?
JM: I hope they recognize the beauty in vulnerability and the importance of connection with others. Life is messy, and that’s where the richness lies. Embrace your stories—even the uncomfortable ones—and understand that healing often comes from these shared experiences.
TNE: Thank you, Joachim. Your insights are profound, and I’m sure your book will resonate with many who are navigating their own complex journeys.
JM: Thank you for having me! It’s been a pleasure to share my thoughts.
