A constantly churning montage featuring a diverse cast of six, Sasha Waltz’s „Allee der Kosmonauten“ — named after a street in the suburbs of east Berlin — first premiered at Sophiensaele, where it opened the theatre in 1996. Restaged 21 years later on the eastern bank of the Spree, „Allee der Kosmonauten“ explores social cohesion and cacophony, aspiration and rejection, and, very literally, the rhythms of anger and violence juxtaposed with the charm and humour of the French circus. Tableaus and furiously acrobatic displays with objects create some of the most compelling images ready to crack open for interpretation; the video meanwhile — despite a late visual acknowledgement from one of the performers — remains an obscure parallel text. In a cast comprised of different ages, languages, and bodies, who expand and trouble their caricatures with the development of movement, relationships, and sometimes costumes, the older woman (with the exception of some relatively gentle face punching) stays disappointingly underdeveloped. A buzzing, a frenzy, the slam of a kick… love, and horror, and the vigour of misery… the click of the 1990s.