When people in Flanders hear the name Julian Weigend, they probably raise an eyebrow. But as soon as someone mentions that he plays the surgeon in the popular ARD series "In aller Freundschaft", a glimmer of recognition usually appears. Yet the true core of Weigend's artistry does not lie in the television studio, but on stage – preferably in the open air, 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 led him across numerous German-language stages – from Klagenfurt to Schleswig-Holstein and the Berliner Kammerspiele – where he distinguished himself early on. In 1995 he was awarded the Publikumspreis of the Bad Hersfelder Festspiele as the first laureate, shortly followed by the prestigious Großer Hersfeld-Preis from critics. Television work came later, as an extension of an already firmly anchored stage career.
This fundamental connection with theater perhaps explains why Weigend has played the title role in Jedermann from the very first performance – a role that is not easily shed, rather it seems to attach itself increasingly to its performer. Werner De Smet spoke for Klassiek Centraal with the actor about that special bond, and about the place where he gives it shape again this year: the Marktplatz of Weimar, laden with cultural-historical weight and existential resonance.
Jedermann Theater, Tegeler's touring production, has now reached 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 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 whole 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 does not feel that weight during rehearsals as a burden, but as an enrichment. "You cannot escape the history of this place. There is a certain condensation – 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 reimagining art. I find that mix of tradition and renewal very inspiring."
The parallel with Jedermann is thereby striking obvious. Hugo von Hofmannsthal's piece – which has found its most famous home in Salzburg, but in Tegeler's version is pointedly loosened from that specific tradition – poses questions that resonate with particular force in Weimar: about transience, responsibility, about what ultimately matters. "You don't just perform a text here," says Weigend, "you enter into dialogue with a cultural heritage that has grown over centuries."
Asked whether that same role would feel different elsewhere, he is nuanced. Salzburg he associates with the heavy weight of a decades-long performance history and the immediate connection with Hofmannsthal himself. Berlin has a different dynamic – more challenging, more rubbing, more in motion. "Weimar, by contrast, I experience as a place of depth and reflection. The confrontation with the human being, with language, with what endures – that is particularly palpable here." And precisely that makes the role at this location different, he adds: "One does not perform Jedermann merely before a historical backdrop, but in a place where for centuries people have reflected on what it means to be human, on art and on the great life questions."
That Weigend has personally changed through the role is clear: "Every intensive engagement with a character leaves traces – and Jedermann especially," he says. The figure undergoes a development: from someone who lives in the illusion of the makeable to someone who is confronted with the absolute boundary. Going through that process year after year, Weigend recounts, changes one's own perspective on time, on relationships, on success. "Jedermann did not come into the world as a ready-made human being – he undergoes a development. It is about insight, about responsibility and about the possibility of change." What strikes him most is that the figure is never "finished", but remains constantly in motion. "You don't just play a human being who meets death – you also encounter yourself again and again."
The audience seems to sense that. Weigend is repeatedly surprised by the immediacy of reactions. Not admiration for a technical achievement, but something more personal: recognizing oneself in a figure who is initially anything but sympathetic. "People don't just see the story of a rich man confronted with finitude – they recognize themselves at certain moments." After the 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 theater home with them. "I hope they experience a moment of encounter – with history, with the figure, and perhaps also with themselves." Jedermann does not provide great answers, he knows. But the questions the piece poses are of the persistent kind. "If spectators go home 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 which now brings a medieval morality play to life again – that feels like the right place.