A play by Elfriede Jelinek, directed by Emre Akal for the Schauspielhaus Graz
October 2023 at the Schauspielhaus Graz - the second premiere on the main stage of the new season AND the Austrian premiere of the playwright Elfriede Jelinek’s Sonne/Luft AND the world premiere of both parts staged ever. It was quite the big deal since the ENTIRETY of the play has never seen the light of day on Austrian soil before. And the artist responsible for elevating her words from page to stage was director Emre Akal together with his brilliant artistic team Mehmet & Kazim Akal, Lara Roßwag and Enik.
Just before I dive into my reflections, I’ve to add a disclaimer – I worked on this production as assistant director (AD) and at times my thoughts might come across as a biassed, but I will try my utter best to stay as objective as possible, looking at and writing about this performance from the observer’s point of view.
The world is heading towards a catastrophic end. Humanity has failed to stop the climate crisis, for decades arrogantly believing that it can control nature’s elements. It backfired. Badly.
The last remnants of humankind, specifically seven people, embark on a journey to start over again, to redeem themselves from the curse they brought upon themselves. The sun herself, commenting on the doings and especially the undoings of the humans, finds herself ultimately in the position where words simply fail her on this matter. And that leaves her and everyone else with only one option.
The play speaks volumes, not only when it was written, but especially in today’s socio-political context - that is of course for whoever has the patience (and nerves!) to read the original 100-pager. But alas the production dramaturg (and chief dramaturg at the Schauspielhaus Graz) Anna Güther did take her time; and with a typical, yet unique-for-(good)-dramaturgs, sixth sense, not only understood the necessity of bringing both parts to see the light of day (only the Sonne part has seen its world premiere in Zürich in 2022) but also the foresight to ask director Emre Akal to bring Jelinek’s work alive - why foresight? Carry on reading and you shall get your answer.
@Schauspielhaus Graz | Lex Karelly
As the auditorium lights go down the audience is immediately greeted with a massive projection of a heart-shaped spaceship - no doubt, the work of art of the artist-duo Mehmet & Kazim Akal. We’re immediately immersed in the irresistible offer of a perfect future available only to those who dare to take a ‘leap of faith’. A promising future where people can finally shape and live the lives they wish to live. This endearing, hopeful, and rather tempting vision of what the future CAN look like is almost immediately dissipated as the curtain goes up. We’re suddenly greeted with an eerie-looking, slow-paced and chilling spaceship interior - quite the stark contrast to the heart-warming message from a minute ago. Seven characters, equally unusual in their looks, manners, and functions, inhabit this space. There’s no trace of the love- and hope-filled society one was led to believe would unravel as soon as the curtain went up.
@Schauspielhaus Graz | Lex Karelly
We’re then straightaway faced with a very slow, counter-clockwise turning stage, which not only reveals the rooms but also the activities our characters undertake in these spaces, alone, together, or as a group. Soon enough we realise that something is wrong with their ‘time’. Everything has its own pace, which we would define as ‘very slow’, but equally it could just be the way time works in this portrayed world. The scenes and scenery are reminiscent of a past long gone, fractions of what their daily lives might have looked like - as a matter of fact look and feel very familiar to our own activities yet are quite…different. BUT it’s exactly these ‘fractions’ of a previous life that somewhat lie in conflict with the ‘new’ life they were looking at creating. Why is that? Is it easier to just fall back to what’s familiar? Was the task of starting over again, the exciting opportunity to create something new just too difficult, too challenging? Did they run out of imagination and therefore resorted back to what’s easy, conventional and in their comfort-zone?
Maybe that is why they chose Nana Mouskouri’s Guten Morgen Sonnenschein as THE tune - even leitmotif! - to accompany them in every aspect of their lives on this ship; a lieu de mémoire so to speak, a place of remembrance in a space that doesn’t encourage any remembering, aside from their automated daily actions of course. The melody, its once cheerful tune, is frequently heard in one context or another throughout the performance and, ironically, juxtaposes the monotonous activity of the passengers on board. And I can’t help but wonder if they even know how it came about to become their leitmotif? Do they realise that once it would have put a smile on one’s face, either because of its ear-wormy and rather silly tune, or because of its absurd lyrics? They might not even remember that once it defined a generation’s experience of their childhood and/or early adult lives. Again, is their world unconsciously merging with ours? Either way, they sure have made it to a significant part of their own system, their day to day lives.
One thing’s for sure: it all feels and is strange.
The distorted time difference, the snapshots of the characters’ daily ‘normal’ activities, the accompanying A.I. voice commenting at times on the activities of our characters, or simply speaking to itself, soon leaves us confronted with the uncomfortable question: what is the norm(al) of this presented (and our actual!) world anymore? And somehow, oddly enough, amidst all these strange things, the experience does to a certain extent become a cinematic one. Like an indie film developing right before our eyes: what an achievement to accomplish in live theatre!
No doubt the cast had quite the challenge, especially if performing in performances (pun intended) is not what they’ve been used to before. But it was a delight to observe how in the end Tim Breyvogel, Thomas Kramer, Luiza Monteiro, Anna Rausch, Sebastian Schindegger, Anke Stendigk and Mervan Ürkmez rose to the challenge and achieved to a certain extent to detach themselves from themselves in order to become the vessels Jelinek wished for every performer to become. I truly appreciated how one by one they got the idea behind the director’s creative vision, how they understood that it’s not about the individuality of their characters but rather what the characters collectively contribute in order to create the desired context and storyline. Their strength lies more in the ‘not doing’ than in the ‘doing’ which of course - inverted psychology alert - divulges more layers about the essence of the performance and elevates it to the rank of art - ‘What a pretentious statement!!’ I hear you think. Might be, but let’s face it: no matter how one takes it, theatre is still an art form that challenges norms and poses questions. Besides, why should theatre deliver everything on a silver plate? If anything, it should encourage one to think beyond what one observes from the seats of the auditorium.
@Schauspielhaus Graz | Lex Karelly
That leads me beautifully to my next point: not only is the audience faced with somewhat existential questions during this performance, but on top of that it is forced to sit through the short-of-an-hour rotating scenery, slowly revealing the different stories of the characters. This of course can be somewhat uncomfortable, and I can understand the frustration that can occur by the time you’re into the 4th rotation AND you’ve got the feeling it’s not going anywhere AND you’d rather just leave because you feel it’s a total waste of time. Of course, one could do that, and no doubt – as an insider I can confirm that – quite a few have done so.
But that in itself is telling. Telling of the nature of the people nowadays who simply can’t be confronted with a slower-paced rhythm to their hectic, chaotic, after-instant-gratification-thirsty lifestyle they so desperately seem to want to cling onto (healthy, right?). Witnessing something that moves in its own time, own pace, whatever that ‘own’ means, can cause discomfort; but what if one would just accept what is offered, relax so-to-say in that feeling, and become present? Present in the time and space offered by these characters and their not-to-be-envied dull reality. Let the thoughts, the reflections, and the opinions slowly, but surely emerge as one focuses EITHER on the meta-voice commenting on the action and/or situation that might just unfold on stage, OR on the relationship-snapshots presented with each room and each rotation. And that’s what I really admire about this performance, that it not only highlights the issues the characters are confronted with, but it subverts its message in a way that it throws it right back at us as our own issues!
Let us now suppose one reaches that state of being-present-in-time-and-space. As one witnesses what is happening on stage one can’t help but recognise that quite familiar-but-ignored sense of feeling alone OR, to be more accurate, feeling lonely. Knowing that you’re wandering somewhere in space, your end goal nowhere in sight - or have they just forgotten that there is an end in sight? The massive projection of a cold, blue, icy space enhances this feeling of its-only-you-and-the-infinite-universe-out-there. No wonder the seven people on this spaceship resorted to what was known to them, to the ‘familiar’, but nevertheless so far gone that even if they’d try to recreate it, it would never work as it once did. A system they’ve left behind, the opportunity to create something new, and the fall-back to recreating memories of what life used to be like - is this what they want to bring with them to their new ‘home’? To their end goal?
@Schauspielhaus Graz | Lex Karelly
The answer might just lie in what the artistic team would call the ‘third part’ of the show. Preceded by the 20-minute stand-still section, the Luft part where the performers finally find their voices, the third part differs from the previous 75 minutes through a complete mood change. Pretty quickly we observe an approaching star, there’s no way one could miss it as it’s literally ‘out there’. The stage starts rotating again, this time clockwise - another glitch in the system? ‘An omen?’ one wonders. The lighting design ensures for a warmer, cosier atmosphere; however, our characters are still facing the same imminent danger: death - the end goal. Whilst continuing to share their thoughts, they acceptingly look up to it, always moving into better positions to watch how slowly but surely their adventure is coming to an end. There’s no resistance. Resistance would also be futile in this case. This part always fills me with such deep sadness, because one can see all the possibilities and potential of beginning a new and truly revolutionary life. But no…the choices have been made. The known, the familiar, the ‘comfort zone’, will always prevail as it is always the ‘safer’ option. But more often than not it’s this comfort zone that is the beginning of the end of ‘insert-here-whatever-your-circumstance-is’.
It's also this part when one hits you with Lars von Trier’s Melancholia vibes. There is something peaceful in acknowledging and accepting the impending doom inflicted by no one other than us onto ourselves. My favourite line in the whole play is delivered by actor Thomas Kramer literally before it all comes to an end is ‘Es ist immer woanders schön, und dort muß man dann hin. Wie ein tätiges Weberschiffchen. Der schrecklichste Gedanke, den die Menschen je gehabt haben: woandershin zu müssen.’ which roughly translates to ‘It is always more beautiful somewhere else. That’s where we’ll have to go. (…) The most awful thought human beings have ever posed: belonging somewhere else.’
Mehmet & Kazim, the multifaceted artists become animators become videographers become visual artists become stage designers – in short: multidisciplinary artists, creators of the set design and projections seen throughout the show, some which have been created with the use of AI (kudos to them for using this technology as it should be used: simply as a tool, and nothing else) offered through their vision a glimpse into what we’d perceive the future to look like. It literally materialised itself on stage. And the thing is, we’re not far from it. And the jarring beauty (oxymoron intended) of what we’re exposed to see for an 1h45min is that although we’re quite literally faced with the results of the new technology and its potential beneficial uses (both literally and artistically), everything else around it seems to have simply forgotten about it, neglected it to the point where the two images/realities are so far from each other, it even hurts to look at it. Humans and technology don’t really seem to get along, can’t seem to find a common ground. And this is also beautifully presented and enhanced by the telling costumes designed by costume designer Lara Roßwag. The systematic, coordinated, neat appearance, foretelling of what the new feature would and should look like, is juxtaposed by the certain patina effect created through the specific yellow she used in her choice of material. Set against everything else on stage, the chosen hue of yellow(s) creates that nostalgic feeling of days once gone, 60s Americana almost, an era which I also personally would describe as a ‘yellow’ tinted with the ‘patina of time’ – what an effect to achieve! Moreover, as someone who’s learnt first-hand what it means to work with a good, insightful and intuitive composer to bring a character, a mood, a story alive, this has also proven to be an aspect that this particular performance had the luxury of delivering - not only did the set, the animation, the projections, the costumes and the dramaturgy create an unfolding cinematic experience on stage, but the underlying soundscape beautifully brought everything together. Enik masterfully grasped the essence of what both the first and the last part of Sonne/Luft were meant to share. Anyone seen Wes Anderson’s Asteroid City? Or any movie of his for that matter! All in all, a trip to Graz would have given you the same effect, only live and literally unfolding before your eyes.
@Schauspielhaus Graz | Lex Karelly
Just like a good book, Emre’s staging of Sonne/Luft is the gift that keeps on giving - meaning: it carries on spurning one to reflect and think beyond the witnessed act of art. Be that disagreeing, critical, or positive reflection, the simple fact it gets one thinking is a step forward in what theatre should in my opinion achieve. This performance is not a ‘one-night-outing’ type of performance either, but rather a piece of art one should revisit as often as one can, as with each viewing something new is revealed, another piece of one’s perception-puzzle might fall into place, revealing not only the complexity of Emre’s staged world, but also the subtle yet direct messages about the human nature. Emre managed to expose the layers of human weakness with great care and gentleness and kindness - what an oxymoron I know! - creating a world one could see one’s reflection in OR not, can come face to face with humanity’s impeccable talent of repeating the same mistake OR not. There’s no finger-pointing - as you would get with so many performances dealing with moralising subject matters - instead the strength of the created images, scenes and overall atmosphere are loud enough to make one feel uncomfortable (should they of course wish and/or accept to be made feel uncomfortable).
Sonne/Luft simply displays a crucial fact we always seem to somehow forget: humanity’s repeated collective failures and inability to rise above any systems that have clearly been proven as not sustainable in the long run.
However, to end on a more positive tune: the synergy of the creative team (both creatives and cast) was no doubt seen and felt in and throughout this performance. And having had the great privilege to work alongside them, one can confess that the biggest lesson one will take away from this magical experience is the care and dedication and - most importantly - the love everyone has poured into it. That in itself was an unfolding unique work of art that I had the great honour of witnessing. Something I will no doubt take with me in my own artistic endeavours.
@ Beatrice Bendek mit Anke Stedingk, Tim Breyvogel, Anna Rausch, Luiza Monteiro, Mervan Ürkmez, Thomas Kramer, Sebastian Schindegger
Director: Emre Akal
Set Design & Video Animation: Mehmet & Kazim Akal
Costume Designer: Lara Roßwag
Music: Enik
Lighting Design: Thomas Trummer
Dramaturgy: Anna-Sophia Güther
Assistant Director: Beatrice Benedek
Costume & Stage Design Assistants: Anna Sommer & Sarah Schimke
Stage Manager: Otto Kolleritsch
Souffleuse: Nina Schnepf
Actors:
Tim Breyvogel
Thomas Kramer
Luiza Monteiro
Anna Rausch
Sebastian Schindegger
Anke Stendigk
Mervan Ürkmez