In the Land of Darkness, Pain, and Suffering_Wozzeck 12.06.13 10:17 Seite 1 In the Land of Darkness, Pain, and Suffering: János Szász’ Woyzeck By Jason Doerre The most renowned philosophical proponent of pessimism, Arthur Schopenhauer, once inquired, “If children were brought into the world by an act of pure reason alone, would the human race continue to exist? Would not a man rather have so much sympathy with the coming generation as to spare it the burden of existence?” It seems that Georg Büchner was wrangling with the same existential questions when devising the character Woyzeck for his eponymous dramatic fragment in 1836. Woyzeck is a lowly soldier abused by his military A DVD Release by the DEFA Film Library superiors and exploited for scientific experiments, eventually being driven to madness under the physical and mental hardships of his existence. As a fragment, Woyzeck is an appealing text for adaptation, because its loose narrative structure allows for liberties of interpretation. • • Wozzeck Since the end of the Second World War, Woyzeck has been adapted into several minor and three major motion pictures, all three in Central Europe. The first two of these remained faithful to the nineteenth-century Woyzeck setting of the original text: Georg C. Klaren’s 1947 version, filmed in what was then the Soviet sector of Germany; and West German director Werner Herzog’s 1979 version, filmed in former Czechoslovakia. In contrast, the most recent adaptation, by Hungarian director János Szász, is set in post-communist Hungary in the early 1990s. By setting the film in modern times, Szász delivers perhaps the most cynical film version of Woyzeck; the temporal distance between the present and the oppressively tragic narrative is no longer there as a buffer, creating a simultaneity with the events at hand. The landscape that Szász constructs for his Woyzeck is one so full of darkness, pain, and suffering that it justifies the pessimism of Schopenhauer’s questions regarding human existence. Only his second full-length film, Szász’ worthy rendering of the Büchner fragment have earned a number of international and national prizes, including the Gold Plaque at the 1994 Chicago Film Festival, and the European Film Award for Best Young Film. Domestically, the film was celebrated at the 25th Hungarian Film Week in Budapest in 1994, with awards for best director, best actor (Kovács), and best cinematography. In Szász’ version, the anti-hero Woyzeck is not a soldier, as in the original, but rather a lowly railroad worker In the Land of Darkness, Pain, and Suffering: János Szász’ in the desolate landscape of a freight yard. The theme of trains and railways is not new to Eastern and Central European cinema; one need only think of classics like Czlowiek na torze (Man on the Tracks, 1957, dir. Andrzej Munk), Pociag (Night Train, 1959, dir. Jerzey Kawalerowicz), Ostre sledované vlaky (Closely Watched Trains, 1966, dir. Jirí Menzel), as well as more recent films, such as Kontroll (2003, dir. Nimród Antal) and the Czech animation film Alois Nebel (2011, dir. Tomás Lunák). In addition to being photogenic for the screen, trains, railroads and their workers have played a significant role in twentieth-century Eastern and Central European history, from images of the Holocaust and partisan resistance during the Second World War to railroad strikes under communism. In the post-communist era, the monolithic infrastructure of the rail yard reminds us of the impressive ambition of the communist project, where trains were the arteries of the enterprise, moving the great industrial output of the planned economy, while also serving as a stable means of transportation and employment for the masses. In Szász’ Woyzeck, however, the rail yard appears as a ghost of its former self, evoking a haunted feeling that the film reinforces with horror-film elements, such as fog, chiaroscuro lighting and black-and-white film stock. The characters sparsely populating Szász’ forlorn landscape blend into the dilapidated infrastructure. Woyzeck, played by the formidable Lajos Kovács, commands an uncanny presence on the screen, appearing uncomfortably at home among the crumbling structures. His face bears the marks of the downtrodden, carrying the soot and sweat of days, weeks, months, and years of work. Like a rat, he scurries from one task to another with never any time between. The perpetual state of neurosis that consumes Woyzeck is 1 In the Land of Darkness, Pain, and Suffering_Wozzeck 12.06.13 10:17 Seite 2 In the Land of Darkness, Pain, and Suffering: János Szász’ Woyzeck exacerbated by his captain, who monitors him from the control tower. From this panopticon, the captain observes Woyzeck while eating his hearty meals in relative comfort. The element of surveillance is inten - sified formally through the frequent use of crane shots that monitor the landscape. Woyzeck, of course, cannot see into the tower; but he is tantalized by the sound of eating that emanates from the loudspeakers. Surrounded by the Central-European winter weather, he eats his own paltry meals—restricted to peas because of his participation in a scientific experiment—in a dark and cramped shack. The hard labor conditions, insufficient diet, and scorn of his superiors eventually reduce Woyzeck to a primal state of nervousness. Trains sporadically blowing through the frames create a heightened sense of anxiety in the film. The combination of nerves and trains, of course, has been a common pairing in the age of moder- A DVD Release by the DEFA Film Library nity, and the setting recalls another work of nineteenth-century German literature: Gerhart Hauptmann’s important naturalistic novella Bahnwärter Thiel (The Train Dispatcher, 1887). Woyzeck’s entrapment in the cruel surroundings, as well as his inescapable biological needs are common aspects of late nineteenth- • Wozzeck • • Wozzeck century literary naturalism, and we know that Büchner was an influential forerunner for pro-ponents such as Hauptmann. In Szász’ version of the story, Woyzeck’s attachment to Marie, the mother of his child, is not only emotional, but also sexual. In a scene in which he visits the confined abode of Marie and the child, he Woyzeck makes desperate sexual advances towards her; but she denies him, saying, “I’d rather you kill me.” The callousness with which Marie treats Woyzeck is perhaps mitigated by the situation, however. How can one expect humane behavior in such a landscape of darkness, pain, and suffering? In this sense, Marie is a prisoner no less than Woyzeck, and it is because of him that she has a child dependent on her. While Woyzeck pushes the limits of his physical capacity to provide for his family, Marie is tempted by the fantasy of transcending her material conditions. The chance comes when a sadistic policeman expresses lust for her, seeing her less as a human than as an outlet for his primal desires, and referring to her as a “wild animal.” To the policeman, other humans are merely a means to an end. This and his sadism are demonstrated when he vents his aggression on Woyzeck, as well as in another instance when he watches with delight as one person is assaulted by others. In Szász’ dystopian setting, the pillars of civilization are thoroughly corrupt. While the policeman delivers injury instead of protection, the doctor uses science not as a means to advance humanity, but rather the reverse: in his laboratory, located in a train car, humans are used to advance science. Woyzeck is not the only one to participate in his experiments; masses of In the Land of Darkness, Pain, and Suffering: János Szász’ Woyzecks flock to the train car, like livestock at feeding time, to earn the meager reward they need to survive for one more day. In vain, Woyzeck tells the doctor that if he himself were a doctor, he would save people. When the physical and mental strain overwhelm Woyzeck, he rebels against his existence by unleashing his anger against that which is destroying him. In this detail, Szász deviates from the original, in which Marie becomes the victim of Woyzeck’s insanity. Still, the absolute sense of cynicism Szász has created remains: Woyzeck’s action is not a step toward ameliorating the status quo, but rather an act of nihilism. Marie’s death by a serene lake in the final scene is almost an act of kindness, which frees her from further exploi - tation and an existence without redeeming qualities, and which contrasts with the darkness, pain, and suffering of the town and rail yard. Szász’ Woyzeck has qualities which mark it as a document of the early post-communist era. The power rela- tions in the film can be seen as a critique of the unequal experience of social transition after the collapse of communism. Across the former Eastern Bloc there was widespread sentiment that those in positions of power were able to preserve their positions, while those at the bottom remained at the bottom. The dys - topian setting of Szász’ Woyzeck—with figures of authority who are accountable to nobody—comments upon the structural void during this time of transition. With this in mind, Szász’ Woyzeck provides an interest - ing comparison to Klaren’s 1947 film, considering that both films were released during periods of political 2 In the Land of Darkness, Pain, and Suffering_Wozzeck 12.06.13 10:17 Seite 3 In the Land of Darkness, Pain, and Suffering: János Szász’ Woyzeck transition. Klaren’s film, however, ends with the optimistic hope of building a new, socialist Europe, while Szasz’ bears the pessimism of its collapse. Stylistically, the former displays the influence of expressionism, while the 1994 version shows an affinity to naturalism.