Hell, that’s an empty buffet. Three of these stainless steel troughs, in which the food is normally kept warm, stand somewhat forlornly on a long table. Except that there’s obviously never been anything in there that needs to be kept warm. There is no trace in Martin Zehetgruber’s stage design of the pompous “Salon in the Second Empire style” in which Jean-Paul Sartre set his chamber play “Huis clos” (1944): The drab buffet stands in front of a gigantic, unplastered wall made of gray Ytong -Bricks, the floor was made of white pebbles, as known from public spaces, where they are used to decorate areas that cannot be used otherwise.
At the Vienna Burgtheater they have unearthed a modern classic that only rarely makes its way onto the schedule. In times of lockdown and working from home, “closed society” seems to be a piece of the hour. (The piece was scheduled last season for current reasons, but then had to be postponed several times because of lockdowns). In it, three people go to hell after their deaths, where neither blazing fire nor dark torturers await them, but only complete strangers with whom they have to live together forever. “The torturer,” one of the characters soon realizes, “is each of us for the other two.” And shortly before the end, the sentence falls that has made a career as the most popular Sartre quote ever: “Hell, that’s the others.”
Toothbrushes and beds are no longer needed, but eroticism still seems to play a role in the afterlife
Hell is also the theater itself in Martin Kusej’s production. Zehetgruber’s wall rises up on the stage, but the imaginary fourth wall between the stage and the auditorium is very permeable here. Cold light illuminates not only the stage, but the entire room; the actors often act in the middle of the audience; the entrances and exits are through the parquet floor. Gradually, a smug waiter (Christoph Luser) leads the three protagonists onto the scene. Leftist journalist Garcin (Tobias Moretti) was executed by firing squad and ended up in hell for mistreating his wife. The lesbian postal worker Inès (Dörte Lyssewski) fell victim to an extended suicide of her lover. Finally, Estelle (Regina Fritsch) died of pneumonia and cannot explain why she ended up here.
There are no toothbrushes in Sartre’s hell (wo
Make-up without a mirror: Dörte Lyssewski, Regina Fritsch and Tobias Moretti in Martin Kusej’s production of Jean-Paul Sartre’s “Closed Society” at the Burgtheater in Vienna
(Photo: Matthias Horn/Matthias Horn)
right?) and no beds (nobody needs sleep here), but eroticism seems to still play a role in the hereafter. That one of the women is homosexual was progressive for the time of origin; the fact that both women then fight for the man’s favor seems a bit old-fashioned. The production uses Traugott König’s translation from the 1980s, but has edited the text to some extent; among other things, the sexual level is addressed much more explicitly than in the original: “It doesn’t matter whether you’re a coward or a traitor – the main thing is that he fucks well!”
Hell is the others: This doesn’t really mean that living together in a small space can be difficult. Above all, Sartre wanted to show that people define themselves too much by what others think of them. One by one the masks come off: Estelle is here because she drowned her unwanted baby; and Garcin may not have died as heroically as he first claimed.
It is Kusej’s best production to date as director of the Burgtheater
“Geschlosse Gesellschaft” is just as little about the lockdown as “Die Pest” – another major existentialist work – is the novel about the pandemic. Still, it wasn’t a bad idea to pull it out of the stash again. The text offers great game material, which is then used accordingly in Kusej’s production – his best so far as director of the Burgtheater. The scene in which Inès/Lyssewski offers to help Estelle/Fritsch with the make-up because there are no mirrors in hell is nice, which ends with both women wearing big red clown mouths on their faces. It’s also pretty funny how Garcin still wants to save face at any price in the afterlife.
Tobias Moretti’s cool, sharp playing, which also has something ghostly in it, forms the center of the evening. Originally, Klaus Maria Brandauer was supposed to play Garcin, which ultimately failed due to scheduling problems. Another classic that you would really like to see on stage again.