7/10 - Reflections on Ödön von Horváth’s black comedy ‘Zur schönen Aussicht’

directed by Anica Tomič for the Schauspielhaus Graz.

The easiest thing to do when confronted with one’s uncomfortable reality is to lock yourself away from it and face (or not) the consequences of one’s actions. But what if it gets too much? What if this isolation bubble bursts when reality does hit? And when it hits, it hits hard. No room to escape.

I found that ‘Zur schönen Aussicht”, directed by Croatian director Anica Tomič for the Schauspielhaus Graz, confronts one with precisely these questions. Moreover, it highlights the very fine line between escapism (Oxford dictionary describes this as the tendency to seek distraction and relief from unpleasant realities, especially by seeking entertainment or engaging in fantasy) and the pressing, uneasy state of feeling trapped (either by choosing so or unconsciously being pushed into such a situation).

As the curtains open and the stage smoke diminishes, you’re instantly hit with the vastness of a shabby hotel lobby. Even with 7 people on stage, the space feels disproportionate, almost as if it was designed for you to get - or feel - lost in. Further down the line, well into the play, it will become clear that it’s not only a physical state of loss we’re witnessing, but also one on a psychological level. The atmosphere is sombre. The washed out-mustard yellow of the large hotel walls we are faced with does remind us of one of those modern effects you can use on different social media platforms to give a picture a pretty patina look, only that in this case it achieves the exact opposite - a grim, bleak and eerie looking hotel - it’s anything but inviting!

Any proof of the grandness of what once the hotel must have looked like, which is also briefly mentioned at the beginning, is shown in the burgundy-colour carpet, which most probably was of a rich, lush colour, but now is faded out and soaked through and through by alcohol - no doubt by the wanna-be-lavish-parties thrown by the only inhabitants of this run-down countryside hotel.

@ Schauspielhaus Graz | Lex Karelly

Although written as a comedy, this particular staging chose to subvert the comedic elements by breaking the fourth wall every now and then, the characters referring and addressing issues of its time, widely controversial and still so accurate and present in today’s society: war on European soil, inflation and recession (the latter not being confirmed just yet for fear of a total societal collapse), deeply ingrained class differences, women’s place and rights in the society, passive misogyny, and the rise of far-right movements. Are we therefore confronted with a snapshot of what the world used to be like in the mid-20s of the last century, or the world of 2023? Not to be concerned by this parallel would be foolish, and outright dangerous. So for creating these brief ‘wake-up-calls’, I salute the directorial decision. BUT, even though I consider the use of the fourth wall as a clever move to remind us of the universal issues we still face on a daily basis, I was still left with a feeling of wanting more, a feeling which hadn’t been satisfied completely as the show progressed. I still believe it could have been taken further, explored more, both within the context and aesthetic of the play, as well as within the context of today’s global issues. And to use the change of lighting design to create a differentiation between the reality on stage and the reality of the breaking-of-the-fourth wall just didn’t quite hit the nail on its head as much as I would have loved to.

Having said this, I will also take a moment to remind the reader the context within which Ödön von Horváth wrote this play and why, despite my earlier comments, I think these brief moments of reality-check did ultimately fit with Ödön’s own lived reality and life-experience. He lived during a time of recovery after the first World War, and he witnessed first-hand what the war brought upon Europe and the world. Heavy human and economic losses were encountered on both sides, but for the loser side it's always going to be more challenging to recover, not only economically, but also in the spirit. And being constantly reminded of the collective guilt, whether you were part of it or not, would have not been processed easily by civilians and ex-soldiers. Witnessing the collapse of a system - of several systems actually - systems you would have taken for granted, you grew up with, and couldn’t fathom to fall, must have come as a massive shock. The rapid, almost over-night change of what was once familiar, the normal, would be enough to overwhelm and unsettle anyone, regardless of creed, class, or political colour.

Keeping this turmoil and overall state of unease in mind, we are then confronted with the characters of this play. These individuals are broken, something which is made clear from the beginning. Each one of them is holding up the pretences (or not?) at first when in the company of the others, but as the conflict situation increases, the true nature of each character is surfacing as well. We therefore have Strasser, the hotel director, fallen actor and discharged officer, the petty criminal turned waiter Max, the chauffeur Karl who’s guilty at least of one homicide, the debt collector Herr Müller, a Nazi sympathiser, Baron Emanuel von Stetten the privileged yet in-debt-drowning incest-guilty brother of the - last but not least - long-stay-guest Ada, baroness von Stetten. As the only paying guest at the hotel, allusions to the sexual nature between her and the rest of the men have been made quite often, quite clearly and quite directly. This woman is in her mid 50s, looking to satisfy her sexual and social needs through her social status and wealth, by using these men to her advantage, since, in her own words she ‘[outright] owns [them] all’ since ‘she’s bought them all’. They are all entangled in each other’s lives, one way or another, with no room to escape from their misery. This closed bubble seems destined to stay stuck in its own vicious circle.

@ Schauspielhaus Graz | Lex Karelly

The catalyst for the upheaval which follows is the unexpected appearance of Christine, the former lover of the hotel director. It turns out the nature of the visit is actually not so unexpected as we are led to believe. The sudden burst of a chest of drawers full of letters from her addressed to Strasser clarifies how this visit was the only possible outcome of the given situation. She expresses the wish to stay with Strasser, and their child, at the hotel. As the news hits them all, they all agree on a wicked plan to dissuade her from her plan, by playing cruel tricks on her to get her to leave of her own accord. The situation radically changes when Christine mentions how she’d come into money and would have wished to uplift and boost the hotel through her investment. Suddenly, these ‘wolves’, these ‘dogs’, these men, radically change their positions, each one of them presenting themselves as the perfect match for her ‘unfortunate’ social placement - single young woman with a child and 10.000 deutsche marks to go in the early 20th century. The hypocrisy of the situation culminates in the short exchange between Christine and the men, when she asks the question of them still being interested in her if she wouldn’t have had the money, to which all of them answer in unison ‘yes’. Surprisingly enough, alone Strasser admits the truth - which all men were actually thinking but not admitting to - that his notion of ‘love’ towards her is purely based on her coming into money, and nothing else.

@ Schauspielhaus Graz | Lex Karelly

In this male-dominated environment, any moments where the two women would acknowledge each other on stage were unmissable and of significance. It almost felt like the younger character could potentially look into her future, and the older character to her younger self - clearly the latter not being able to change what once has come to pass, but the former almost certainly maintaining the privilege of deciding on her own what the fate of her life should look like. The brief exchange between the two characters as the show drew to an end, left one with a tingle of hope, and welcome release from the tension-filled and helpless episodes witnessed up until that point.

These women, in their own private ways, found their peace, through the simple - if only! - action of deciding for themselves what their lives should look like from that moment on. And maybe, just maybe, that is how real freedom feels and looks like.

@ Schauspielhaus Graz | Lex Karelly

To find out more about this play please visit following link (German only):

https://schauspielhaus-graz.buehnen-graz.com/play-detail/zur-schoenen-aussicht