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Metodología empleada para determinar el tamaño de la muestra

CAPÍTULO II. MATERIALES Y MÉTODOS

2.1. Metodología empleada para determinar el tamaño de la muestra

In drawing this introductory discussion to a close, I’d like to use this comparison to open a discussion about the role of gender in the work of both directors. Critics analysed the hidden dimensions that objects disclosed in both of these productions. Reviewing

Mitchell’s Wunschkonzert, Christian Bos (2008) found that “the imagery on screen and its interaction with the stage creates a psychological undertow; the many close-ups give

even the small and silent things a threatening dimension”.23 The objects populating

Rasch’s apartment in Ostermeier’s staging posed a literal threat in that they persistently

injured the protagonist. When she washed her cutlery in the sink, Tismer’s Rasch cut her finger on a knife and had to apply a plaster. When she entered the apartment she stubbed her toe painfully on a chair. When she did a little dance to a track on the radio (stipulated in Kroetz’s script), Ostermeier had her slip over on the wet bathroom lino, her outstretched arm plunging into the uncovered toilet bowl, and as she tried to get up she banged her head on the underside of the sink.

Although similar, these approaches differ hugely in tone. Ostermeier’s carefully choreographed sequences were painful to observe, but they were also funny. Indeed, critics’ conflicted reactions to these sequences suggest that Ostermeier’s focus on the external, in contrast to Mitchell’s attempt to reveal the internal, maps over a gender politics. The assumptions underpinning such an assertion must be scrutinised with some care, but this thesis will consider the implications of gender in these directors’ views of the subjects that they stage. The way in which they realised a specific stage direction provides a point of comparison that allows us to open up such a discussion. Of a moment during which Rasch uses the toilet, Kroetz writes: “It takes quite a while until she can wipe herself. This, too, is done as pedantically and as hygienically as one can imagine” (1978: 31). In Mitchell’s version, the video output cut from a flashback to show Rasch already sat on the toilet, in a bathroom hidden behind the set’s walls, and the camera only showed her upper half. After a moment, she discretely wiped, pulled up her tights under a long skirt, and flushed. An overhead shot showed her brushing the bowl. The long sequence that Ostermeier made out of this stage direction differed entirely.

Because of the layout of this apartment, Tismer’s Rasch sat on a toilet at the front of the stage in full view of the audience. Following the sound of her urinating, she

                                                                                                               

sat straining for over two minutes, making lots of noise, clutching onto the rim of the sink, succumbing to a panic attack, crying, and finally managing to unblock herself with the requisite sound effect. She then tore off short pieces of toilet roll, and wiped herself three times, inspecting the paper after each wipe, holding the tissue close to her face because of her short-sightedness. Reviewers responded in conflicting ways. Johanna Straub (2003) found it uncomfortable: “Ostermeier shows the audience even more clearly what it does not want to see. Rasch sits down on the toilet and cries, and we have to watch”. In contrast, Esther Slevogt (2003) found it “hilarious, not only because of the poor young lady on the toilet, but also because Herbert Grönemeyer’s song “Der Weg” (The Way) was playing on the radio in the background, dedicated by a listener to his

deceased wife”.24 This sentimental love song (“I’ll carry you with me / Until the curtain

falls”) made sense of Rasch’s upset – just before using the toilet, she had muffled the radio with a napkin on hearing this song. However, Ulrich Seidler (2003) accused Ostermeier of turning Kroetz’s unbearable play into something that wasn’t half as unbearable. In his reading, this sequence was symptomatic of Ostermeier’s denunciation of Kroetz’s protagonist, making her “a figure for our amusement,” which began for Seidler “when she exchanges her work shoes for her house slippers and stuffs them with newspaper”. Citing the “pathetic fold away tray” that Rasch fitted over the arm of her sofa, Seidler attacked Ostermeier for relegating Rasch “to a curiosity”. Having “extended the potential for making jokes by having her near-sighted and in need of spectacles,” he encouraged spectators, in Seidler’s view, to “indulge in the consolation that we are better than the daft Fräulein Rasch”. Slevogt agreed that in this production Rasch was doomed from the start: “Such hideous curtains […] such eerily patterned tablecloths and senseless practical folding trays cannot make a life worth living.” Whereas Mitchell went for pathos, Ostermeier went for bathos; Tismer’s Rasch owned

(and kissed) a cushion cover printed with the faces of the American boy band N-Sync, and

wore a pyjama t-shirt emblazoned with “Be My Valentine” as she unfolded her single-

                                                                                                               

person sofa bed. Wieninger’s Rasch, in contrast, reflected on an early love affair and cried as she listened to a Bach cantata. Although such details point to stark and illuminating contrasts, they also reveal that both directors – whether objectifying or subjectivising their protagonist – aimed to expose the alienation of a woman unable to survive in a hostile reality.

Indeed, we will see throughout this thesis that the aesthetic and mood of their

work differs considerably. As her Wunschkonzert suggests, Mitchell’s approach is a

predominantly visual one, whereas the “scaffolding of sounds” that Ostermeier refers to above indicate his musical approach. As is suggested by the presence of an onstage string quartet, Mitchell’s Fräulein Rasch listened to a series of classical pieces on her radio throughout the evening, culminating in an instrumental version of Dido’s lament from

Henry Purcell’s Dido and Aeneas.25Ostermeier’s selections were all sourced from popular

culture. Whereas Mitchell used Anne Sexon’s poetry as an additional textual source, Ostermeier used pop song lyrics to do similar choral work.

Kroetz’s play shows how revealing text can be of the personality of its director. Despite their differences, however, these are directors who investigate the link between concrete stage effects and internal perception, seeking to externalise states using physical and technological methods. Having teased out some of the social, cultural and political implications of the distinct realisms that they pursue, this thesis begins the work of addressing how those approaches stem from their engagement with Chekhov and Ibsen.

                                                                                                               

25 And thus foreshadowing Mitchell’s multimedia staging of Purcell’s opera in London the

following year. This co-production between the Young Vic and ENO, called After Dido, included a

live cinema element that intercut three contemporary narratives of love and loss, and was also accompanied by Anne Sexton’s poetry (as well as that of Sylvia Plath).

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