All right. Good night. 好吧，晚安

The theatre is the place of visualization, presence and liveness. Or also A-Liveness. Every stage event is permeated with liveness. The audience can be reassured second by second: These bodies here on stage are there for me, this voice speaks to me - now, in this moment. We share this very moment, here, in one space - this reality.
But: What happens to the theatre when the implicitness of human presence disappears in a performance?
What remains then?
Only thoughts and memory? The naked theatre apparatus? The music?

MH370 was a scheduled international passenger flight operated by Malaysia Airlines.
On March 8, 2014, the Boeing with 227 passengers and 12 crew members took off from Kuala Lumpur to its destination Beijing: an unspectacular routine for 39 minutes and 13 seconds. Then the plane disappeared from radar.

Its disappearance has been called one of the greatest aviation mysteries of all time - because it seems unbelievable that something as big as a Boeing could be lost in a world where presumably everything and everyone is under surveillance.
And it seems impossible that it remains lost. Although the search has been the most expensive in history, at over 150 million euros, and of monumental proportions.

Shortly after the disappearance of the plane, the father of the author and director writes his grandson four congratulatory letters for his birthday. Their content is almost identical; each envelope is stamped with a special issue stamp. A year later, no card arrives at all, the birthday probably forgotten, and at some point this forgetfulness gets a name and becomes a disease: dementia. The grandchild's name is forgotten, the fact that there is one, and eventually the certainty of one's own person.

In 'All right. Good night.' Helgard Haug traces the disappearance, the search and the struggle with uncertainty - using the example of the missing airplane and the manifesting dementia of her own father. It is the protocol of an irreversible process.

Music is the artistic medium with the greatest tradition in making the disappeared tangible. Be it through a requiem in memory of the deceased or through a choir, which already in ancient theatre appeared as a witnessing chronicler and reported on hardly imaginable battles and divine fortune. For “All right. Good night.”, the electro-pop musician Barbara Morgenstern collaborates with arranger Davor Vincze, and composes for a classical orchestra for the first time. Will the 12 musicians of the Zafraan Ensemble succeed in making the gap and the ensuing emptiness tangible?

Every disappearance needs narrative. There are sophisticated methods and techniques with which the absence is attested to: The flight radar on which there is no longer a green dot. The phone call that goes nowhere. The GPS transmitter on the ear of the animal, which no longer sends new data. Monitored by satellites hovering in space, the earth's orbit becomes the place where radio technologies bear witness to on or off, presence or absence, life or death.