Annette Frier: “If I don’t feel like it, I cancel”

Annette Frier hat phantastische Laune. Vielleicht, weil sie eben Käsekuchen geklaut hat von einem Veranstaltungsbuffet im Hotelflur. Oder weil es schon fast 17 Uhr ist, der letzte Termin an diesem Tag, später kommt die frühere Nanny ihrer Kinder zum Abendessen.

Vielleicht aber auch, weil Annette Frier der Aufmerksamkeit in dem kleinen Konferenzraum neben dem Kuchenbuffet schlicht nicht griesgrämig begegnen will. „Von mir aus können Leute schlechte Laune haben“, sagt sie. „Aber grundsätzlich habe ich Lust zu diesem Termin. Es wäre fast eine Attitüde, wenn ich mich jetzt hier gelangweilt hinsetzen würde. Wenn ich keinen Bock hätte – und ich habe auf viele Dinge keinen Bock –, sage ich ab.“

Frier spricht nicht, sie tritt auf. Sie hält Blickkontakt, gestikuliert. Sie ist nicht gelangweilt, und sie will auch nicht langweilen. Sie könnte es sich leisten: Selbst Leute, denen ihr Name nichts sagt, kennen ihr Gesicht. Wer auf Bildschirme schaut, dem ist es vertraut: Die fünfzig Jahre alte Kölnerin bewegt sich seit Jahrzehnten in Theater, Kino und Fernsehen, öffentlich-rechtlich wie privat. Sie war Vivi in der RTL-Serie „Hinter Gittern – Der Frauenknast“, sie war Danni in der Sat.1-Serie „Danni Lowinski“; sie war in der „Schillerstraße“, bei „Switch“, bei „Pastewka“. Zuletzt spielte sie die Familienmutter Anne in der ZDF-Serie „Merz gegen Merz“. Die Serie endete in einem Fernsehfilm, am diesem Donnerstag ­erscheint ein zweiter Teil.

Frier hat auch ernstere Rollen gespielt, etwa 2016 die einer werdenden Mutter im ARD-Film „Nur eine Handvoll Leben“, in dem ein Paar mit der Entscheidung ringt, sein an Trisomie 18 erkranktes Kind abzutreiben. 2020 hat sie einen Chor für Menschen mit Demenz gegründet und ihn mit der Kamera begleiten lassen. In der Hochzeit der Pandemie veröffentlichte sie Videos, in denen sie Freunden und Bekannten wie Dunja Hayali und Nelson Müller vermeintlich banale Fragen stellt: „Wann wurdest du geboren, und warum bist du hier?“ – „Welche Rolle spielst du in deiner Familie?“ – „Gibt es etwas oder jemanden, das oder den du vermisst?“

She is strict about her own privacy. The stupidest question she is asked again and again is about her children. “There are three questions about the project, and then: 'How are the twins?'” But that's not stupid, just “incredibly predictable.”

The main theme in “Merz against Merz” is marriage. In her eyes, it is an exciting project. “I have been married to the same man for over 20 years now,” she sighs. Too many people believe that marriage is not always romantic. They overlook the fact that every other person gets annoying after three years at the latest. Time is a crucial factor, and it is how you experience certain things with the other person. Which ones? “It gets too intimate. He has to come to the table with you.” She laughs: “And maybe we should get a psychologist involved.”

In the conference room, there is a serious Annette Frier and a funny one, and they alternate constantly. The funny Frier would neither advise her children to act nor not. “I advise against guessing. What will the neighbors think?” When it is stated that people have read a lot about her in preparation for this interview, she says: “Oh God, I'm so sorry.”

The serious Frier thinks for a few seconds before answering what she thinks is right in these socially chaotic times. And then says cryptically: “It's hard to say. A truth arises in the room and suddenly it shows itself. And everyone would say in that moment, now it's here.” In the public debate, says Frier, she is missing exactly this ominous truth, which could perhaps be translated as understanding. “On the one hand, people insult each other, on the other hand, there is a very strange caution.”

In her job, she is always looking for the truth: what is behind a character? In real life, it is not so different. “What is behind it when a person is arrogant or angry?” These feelings are almost always a substitute for fear. “And we almost never talk about our own fear, only about the fear of others.” In Frier's view, concealed feelings and conflicts with oneself and others resolve themselves when one recognizes them under the emotional mess – and speaks about them to oneself or to others.

She likes to remain vague in such statements, undeterred by requests for examples. “Many things worry me,” she says. And: “Everything has gotten worse” – she means the three years since the federal election, when she publicly spoke out in favor of the Greens and climate-sensitive policies.

She now says: “I want to be a role model for myself in society.” She would prefer a planetary council, one “that clearly states what is no longer acceptable, because it will come back to haunt us in five years at the latest.” She personally has no problem with certain prohibitions. Or with putting up with contradictions. “I would never claim to do everything right. But I also don't like the killer argument: you drink wine but preach water.” That is precisely why she thinks rules that apply to everyone are important.

She herself would not want to dictate anything to others. Thank God she is not a politician. But: “We need them! That is what we have agreed to as a society.” Respect for this job does not hurt: “People get up at five o'clock and finish work at 11 p.m. – and then they throw tomatoes at them.” She would not claim to have any special political skills herself, she has others: “Playing, being creative, bringing a group of people together.”

There is a reason why her professional activities are so heterogeneous. “I don't want to commit myself to anything, I have absolutely no desire to always eat the same food,” she says. “I can afford it. If there are so many fruits, I'd like to try them all, to be honest.” This also involves audacity, because you can never do justice to everything at the same time.

She feels that change is fundamental. “With some people, you ask yourself: why are you still doing this? You weren't interested in this ten years ago, you talk about it as if it were a love you've given up on.” Her need for security has diminished, perhaps because the children are older now. Or because she's already quite far along in life. She says this without pathos. “Even if I live to be 100, I'll already have half of that. I can't take into account what people think of me. No, that's not possible. But you have to practice.”

A few more photos and then Frier has to go to the nanny's dinner. She takes a few steps and turns around: “Here!” she hisses and points with her thumb at the cheesecake buffet. Then she's gone.