When people in Flanders hear the name Julian Weigend, they probably raise an eyebrow. But as soon as you mention that he plays the surgeon in the popular ARD series "In aller Freundschaft," a flicker of recognition usually appears. Yet the true heart of Weigend's artistry lies not in the television studio, but on the stage – preferably under the open sky, where word, space and transience meet.
Born on August 27, 1971 in Graz and trained at the Hochschule für Musik und darstellende Kunst there, Weigend belongs to that rare breed of actors for whom theater is not a stepping stone, but an origin. His artistic path took him to numerous German-language stages – from Klagenfurt to Schleswig-Holstein and the Berliner Kammerspiele – where he distinguished himself early on. In 1995 he was honored as the first recipient of the Publikumspreis at the Bad Hersfelder Festspiele, shortly followed by the prestigious Großer Hersfeld-Preis from critics. Television work came later, as an extension of an already firmly established stage career.
The fundamental connection to theater perhaps explains why Weigend has played the title role in Jedermann from the very first performance – a role that cannot simply be discarded, rather it seems to attach itself more and more to its performer. Werner De Smet spoke with the actor for Klassiek Centraal about that special bond, and about the place where he brings it to life again this year: the Marktplatz of Weimar, laden with cultural-historical weight and existential resonance.
Jedermann Theater, Tegeler's touring production, has now attracted more than 20,000 spectators since its start in Beelitz in 2022, with venues such as Berlin, Bayreuth and Regensburg and soon also Bremen, Coburg and Graz. The production has already returned to the Thuringian cultural city before – and each time that return proves to be much more than logistical. "Weimar means much more to me as an actor than just a location," says Weigend. "It is a spiritual and cultural space that has fascinated me my entire life."
This fascination has everything to do with what Weimar as a place represents: the legacy of Goethe and Schiller, language as an instrument of truth, the Bauhaus tradition as an engine of renewal. Weigend feels that weight during rehearsals not as a burden, but as an enrichment. "You cannot escape from the history of this place. There is a certain density – a connection with all the artists, thinkers and visionaries who have worked here." And that connection is, he emphasizes, not exclusively nostalgic. "Through the Bauhaus tradition, Weimar also stands for courage and the idea of constantly rethinking art. I find that mix of tradition and renewal very inspiring."
The parallel with Jedermann is strikingly obvious in this regard. Hugo von Hofmannsthal's play – which has found its most famous home in Salzburg, but in Tegeler's version is deliberately liberated from that specific tradition – raises questions that resonate particularly strongly in Weimar: about transience, responsibility, about what ultimately matters. "You don't just perform a text here," says Weigend, "but you engage in dialogue with a cultural heritage that has grown over centuries."
Asked whether the same role would feel different elsewhere, he is nuanced. Salzburg he associates with the heavy weight of decades of performance history and the immediate connection to Hofmannsthal himself. Berlin has a different dynamic – more challenging, more abrasive, more in flux. "Weimar, by contrast, I experience as a place of depth and reflection. The confrontation with humanity, with language, with what endures – that is particularly palpable here." And precisely that makes the role different in this location, he adds: "You don't just perform Jedermann against a historical backdrop, but in a place where for centuries people have thought deeply about what it means to be human, about art and life's great questions."
That Weigend has personally been changed by the role is clear: "Every intensive engagement with a character leaves its mark – and Jedermann very much so," he says. The figure goes through a development: from someone who lives in the illusion of makability to someone who is confronted with absolute limits. Going through that process year after year, Weigend tells us, changes one's own perspective on time, on relationships, on success. "Jedermann didn't come into the world as a finished human being – he undergoes a development. It's about insight, about responsibility and about the possibility of change." What strikes him most is that the figure is never "complete," but constantly in motion. "You don't just play a human who meets death – you meet yourself anew each time."
The audience seems to sense that. Weigend is surprised again and again by the immediacy of the reactions. Not admiration for a technical achievement, but something more personal: the recognition of themselves in a figure who is initially anything but likable. "People don't just see the story of a rich man confronted with finitude – they recognize themselves at certain moments." After performances, he often experiences great silence among the audience, a deep emotional presence. "That shows me that theater still has the power to truly touch people."
For the performances on the Marktplatz of Weimar this summer, he hopes the audience takes more than just theater home with them. "I hope they experience a moment of encounter – with history, with the figure, and perhaps with themselves too." Jedermann doesn't provide great answers, he knows. But the questions the play raises are of the persistent kind. "If audiences leave with a thought, a feeling or a question, then theater has accomplished something."
On that Marktplatz, in front of the Rathaus, under the open sky of a city that once housed Goethe and Schiller and now brings a medieval morality play back to life – that feels like the right place.
