Mike Müller: “My ambition will keep me going until I’m 70”

^{_{Image: © Timo Orubolo}}
Mr Müller, only a few actors in Europe have a record like you: over 500 sold-out stage shows, leading roles in the successful Swiss series “Der Bestatter” and in over a dozen films, co-host of Switzerland’s most successful late-night show, screenwriter and playwright – the list goes on. Do you actually still have to work?
Yes, thankfully. Steven Spielberg once said: “I’m dreaming for a living.”. That may be a slight exaggeration, but I really enjoy doing my job.

Does that mean it’s far from over?
I’ll still be working until I’m 70. My ambition will keep me going until then.

And what are you going to do after that?
I don’t have a plan yet. I imagine that I’ll have more time for my hobbies. But there are also a few plays that I would like to write. Meaning I’ll be working again (laughs).

Do you know how much money you will have at your disposal after you retire?
Yeah, I have a pretty good idea. I discuss my financial situation regularly with my advisor and recently had it reviewed by a financial planner. It should be enough.

Do artists even talk about money?
Yes, very often. That’s why we have the saying: “Bankers prefer to talk about art, and artists prefer to talk about money.”

Well, let’s talk about money. How much do you actually earn?
Enough for quite a lot of luxury – so actually too much. But not enough to just drink white wine with friends all day long and shoot the breeze.

According to one job platform, actresses and actors in Germany earn an average of between EUR 2600 and 4000 per month. In Switzerland, the average annual income is just under CHF 30 000.
Money in creative jobs is very unfairly distributed. The stars skim off the cream – well-known movie actors sometimes earn EUR 150 000 for six weeks of shooting – while everyone else is left with crumbs. For most freelance artists, it is impossible to save for old age. They also have very different kinds of employment relationships and often work in different countries, i.e. under different pension systems – so they have saved up a little bit everywhere, but nothing fits together. As a result, many people run into financial difficulty when they retire.

When did you start saving for retirement?
Late thirties. Since then I’ve been able to put money aside. This makes me one of the few privileged artists.

What’s the biggest expense you’ve ever regretted?
None. I think very carefully before I make a big purchase. I certainly spent the most money on my motorboat, but I researched this purchase for at least a year. And the boat gets a lot of use. You can work on it a little bit, but it’s actually purely a luxury item.

Does upbringing affect people’s attitude to money?
I imagine so. My grandparents were workers, my father was a teacher and my mother was a shop window decorator. At home, there was not only a lot of talk about politics, but also discussion about social security and money. That way I always knew how much my parents earned, and I was taught that money doesn’t grow on trees. Later, I was involved in theatre productions that lost money. It takes a lot of luck in our industry, just like anywhere else – and sometimes you just have bad luck. From time to time, however, it’s simply your own fault.

How did you first earn your own money?
As a delivery boy at pharmacy – today you would call it home delivery. I was 14 and got seven francs an hour. My first major purchase was a motorcycle.

Do you play the lottery?
Only when the jackpot is full. Kind of ridiculous, because I don’t want for anything and don’t know what I would do with the money.

Do you donate to any causes?
Yes, quite a lot. Mostly for projects in developing countries – emergency aid, educational institutions, hospitals, things like that. I’m impressed by people who donate ten percent of their income. I don’t manage that much.

You’re the epitome of self-determination: you are self-employed, write your plays mostly yourself, perform alone on stage and even manage your own bookings to a large extent. Why is it so important to you to be self-determined?
If I already know how to do something, I don't like other people interfering. I want to decide for myself how things should be done. That’s something I enjoy. And it’s also a proven fact: self-determination is an important factor in our happiness. But it’s also important to recognise that other people can do some things better.

There’s a saying that goes: “Talking about music is like dancing about architecture.” Does the same apply to humour?
Yes, humour is hard to describe. If you have to explain a joke, it’s not funny.

But let’s try anyway: are there cultural differences when it comes to humour?
No, good humour is good humour. The French comedy “Bienvenue chez les Ch’tis” makes me laugh just as much as the iconic German satirist Loriot and the US comedy show “Saturday Night Live”.

So the Mike Müller schtick also works abroad?
As a writer, yes. The plays I co-wrote are also doing very well in Cologne or Dresden. My solo shows, on the other hand, wouldn’t work.

Why?
Because there I play very Swiss characters, with our extremely diverse regional dialects. It is interesting to note that in Switzerland, dialects are not primarily a characteristic of social class. Everyone speaks dialect – whether at home or at work. In Germany or France, on the other hand, there is a well-maintained standard language, and dialects tend to function as “sociolects”. They express class differences.

In your solo piece “Klassentreffen”*, people meet again 40 years after they graduate from school, and the evening ends in drama. What was it about this material that appealed to you?
At my age, people start to take stock of life. Did they raise their children properly, or are they on the wrong path in life? Did their professional dreams come true? Do they want to grow old with their partner, or is it time for something new? Life turns out different for everyone, and a class reunion is the ideal mirror for these different stories.

You deal with issues such as ageing and dying not only in this play, but also in the recent programme “Erbsache” and in the TV series “Der Bestatter”. What do you find particularly funny about getting older?
Very little. It’s more of a massacre, as the great author Philip Roth so fantastically described it in “Everyman” – a succession of diseases with a fatal end. That’s why I find the much-vaunted 100-year lifespan seriously overrated. If I were to live forever, I’d rather stay 40. From an artistic point of view, however, I find death more exciting than getting older.

Why?
Because death symbolises the ultimate failure. It’s dead serious, and nothing can be allowed to go wrong. And that’s exactly what makes it so suitable for comedies.

An example, please.
When my very old beloved grandmother was buried, a young vicar gave the eulogy. He was wearing brand new trainers under his cassock. In the middle of the sermon, my little brother stood up, pointed to the vicar and shouted: “Mum, look! Adidas Romes!” The whole congregation burst out laughing.

After death comes inheritance. In the play “Erbsache”, you say that your will is the last opportunity to annoy your children…
Yes, you can see it that way. A will is also a vote of no confidence, because you don’t trust your descendants to figure it out themselves.

Have you already thought about your legacy?
Yes, I’ve made my will. I thought about it carefully, took important steps and informed people.

And what about your artistic legacy?
I don’t care. I am an entertainer and don’t see myself as a poet for eternity. I see myself more as an author of texts that are meant to be consumed.

^{*“Klassentreffen”: Dates and tickets here}