WONDERMOM

WONDERMOM is an interview show shaped by Natascha Ochsenknecht’s gift for direct, lived-in conversation. It does not behave like a neat profile series. Guests arrive with public lives, creative work, personal histories, and strange practical stories, but the show quickly pulls them toward ordinary human territory. That is where it works. Jochen Schropp talks around dating, acting, spirituality, illness, and the need for trust. Hardy and Alice Krüger move from bridges and old television habits into creativity, writing, renovation, family, and the wish to relive a more generous film era. Funny and Tannis Husten bring self-employment, grandchildren, partnership, happiness, and the fear of loneliness into the room. Ariana Baborie turns embarrassment, fertility treatment, clinic rooms, respect from doctors, and parenthood into a conversation that is both ridiculous and intimate. Pierre Sanoussi-Bliss speaks about aging, racism, fairy tales, language, changed stories, serenity, and enjoying the moment without making himself into a symbol. Michael Tsokos brings darker material about drugs, death, crime, and violent detail, while Natascha keeps connecting it back to family fear and real life. Ilka Bessin’s episode circles death, comedy, limits, old personas, and what can still be said without turning cruelty into a punchline. The format is loose and sometimes messy. That is part of the texture. A joke can lead to grief; a practical question can lead to a confession; a work story can collapse into beds, bodies, children, money, fear, or what happens when nobody visits. Natascha pushes, teases, agrees, interrupts, and asks again. The result is not therapy and not celebrity polish. It is talk with elbows on the table, full of warmth, bluntness, curiosity, and the kind of sudden seriousness that arrives because someone finally asked the next question.