MS Pocahontas

Pocahontas, Version 1: A beautiful woman meets a well-travelled stranger somewhere in the wilderness. There’s nothing to connect them; nothing is allowed to connect them. Yet her love bridges the divide between their peoples.

Pocahontas, Version 2: An eleven-year-old girl is abducted, raped and kidnapped by a gang of brutal invaders; her people are subdued and their homes destroyed.

History is written by the victors, and stories are often written by Disney. The crew of Gerhild Steinbuch’s dilapidated ship ‘Pocahontas’ are using paint pots and brushes to daub their (hi)story with colourful tones in an effort to make them presentable to the audience. But they soon realise that keeping up the appearance of a positive image is hard work: “Just when you’ve given the world something beautiful, the horror immediately starts to seep back through.” This is particularly true when life goes on and one is confronted with the consequences of glossing over reality. Suddenly, the protagonists notice boats sailing towards their own shores, filled to bursting with people desperate for help and protection. While fear and neurotic defensiveness take hold, they are also busy effusively reassuring themselves that they are good people.