When in Europe’s most playful city, you must do as Berliners do — and dance the night away...

 

Encroaching darkness is, inevitably, the theme of the long-awaited new series of Babylon Berlin. The fourth season of the most expensive German TV series ever made picks up some months after the 1929 stock market crash, the death sentence of the already fragile Weimar Republic. A democracy imposed on Germany as part of the Treaty of Versailles in 1919, the chaotic republic coincided with the Roaring Twenties, sparking a creative explosion, political strife and a wild permissiveness in Berlin: the 1800 quote from composer Franz von Suppé – “You are crazy, my child. You must go to Berlin” – had never rung truer.

 

It’s against this background that the early series were set, the noir world originally conjured by author Volker Kutscher in the Gereon Rath mysteries realised on screen in all its decadent glamour. But now, in 1930, some even more sinister, brown-shirted elements wait in the shadows, and the republic’s days are numbered. Even as the ship was sinking, however, the party went on, the clubs, bars, parties, cabarets and music leaning into a glamorous decay. (When the future feels so uncertain, why not dance?)

 

 

A dance is indeed part of my plan for the next few days as I arrive at the Orania (orania.berlin), located in Kreuzberg, historically the naughtiest district of them all. Housed inside a building dating back to 1913, it combines old-world opulence with modern luxury, and sits in the beating heart of “Xberg”, where flappers flapped and players played. (Talking of flapping, I recommend taking advantage of the hotel restaurant, where they offer a wonderful Kreuzberg Duck dish, your meal usually accompanied by live music.) 

 

 

 

The following morning, what else, a jazz tour (jazzgeschichten.de), starting at the Femina Palace, one of Berlin’s most popular dance halls during the 1930s. The “Kind of Golden” tour (there are a few options) not only shows me the sights of Berlin’s Jazz Age but also explains the musicality of why it flourished to such a degree in this city. I hear, too, how it was Jewish culture that shaped the scene – the musicians, the managers, the club owners and the clientele. Not only is the story riveting, but heartbreaking. The two-hour tour ends at the Quasimodo Jazz Club, not quite buzzing at lunchtime, but I’m assured this changes later on. Around 3am, knowing Berliners. I immerse myself further in the era that even- ing at Clärchens Ballhaus (claerchensball.haus), where Weimar Berliners of all stripes came to dance the night away. 

 

 

As well as still hosting dances and events, it now houses a beautiful shabby-chic restaurant serving traditional German food with a modern twist. Seated under ornate ceilings that must have seen a thing or two in their time, I tuck into the house speciality of Wiener Schnitzel, and, of course, a Pilsner. For my final few days I have chosen to embrace the naughtiness of the time (don’t worry, this is still PG-rated). My second hotel is Provocateur (provocateur-hotel.com), located in Wilmersdorf, a popular area for artists and intellectuals during the Weimar era. A designer hotel that takes inspiration from Paris in the 1920s, the luscious textiles and moody colours perfectly encapsulate the feel of the era. I depicted in the musical Cabaret, of which there’s a new version currently taking London’s West End by storm – so I can’t leave without a brush with the feather-boa’d underbelly of Europe’s most playful city.

 

 

 

 

 

A sultry, dark and seductive burlesque bar, Kleine Nachtrevue (kleine-nachtrevue.de) has an Art Deco decor that whimsically nods to the era that has inspired the evening. And as the lights dim and I sip on my Old Fashioned, the captivating, beautiful and lascivious 90-minute show, mixing modern and traditional styles, unfolds spectacularly in front of me – so much so that, needing another stiff drink afterwards, I head back into the current, slightly less Roaring Twenties for some modern decadence in the shape of the brilliant and ever- popular Monkey Bar, overlooking Berlin Zoo. This is a trip of indulgence and bright lights: a jazzy twist on what is still a very modern Berlin experience, only these days it’s in the Panorama Bar of überclub Berghain rather than the Kit Kat Club of Cabaret. 

 

My advice, however – whatever century you find yourself in – is never to return from Berlin without the need to immediately plunge into a wholly unconscious restorative sleep of pitch-black oblivion. Otherwise, you just haven’t done it right. 

 

MATT CHARLTON