Filmmaker Andres Veiel makes a documentary on acting pupils. He
shows the actors acting - and not acting. That is: in case they don't act
when they seem to be not acting. "Die Spielwütigen" is a documentary.
That is: in case it does not make use of or fall back to feature film structures.
You have, however, to fall back on something, as life for sure does not have
a form. Life, no doubt, has to be formed to be presentable as a documentary,
just the way characters have to be formed to be presentable on a stage, as
actors. There is, it seems, a deep and most probably subconscious connection
here between the film, which insists on having a form, and the training the
acting pupils undergo in order to find a form, to be put into a form that
resembles what the audience readily accepts as, recognizes as: the right
form in which it is done. Making a documentary. Acting.
The structure is chronologically clear. We begin in 1997, when the
four characters Veiel has chosen for documenting are accepted to the
Ernst-Busch-Schauspielschule, an institution, by the way (or rather: not
so much by the way, but very importantly) that has managed to remain renowned
even after the wall, on whose Eastern side it was and still is situated,
had come down. Veiel had, in fact, chosen one of them before, in a TV prequel
to this film; he has dropped two of the three whose life as beginning actors
he had documented. His new film remains silent about all that. It also remains
silent about the relationship between the "author" and director of this film
and the actors - who don't act, but just "are real", except, of course, when
they are acting, on the stages of school and, in the end, real life. "Die
Spielwütigen" subscribes to an ideology of documenting without interfering.
Which, you could argue, is always caught in a catch similar to the paradox
of time traveling into the past. You cannot not interfere, but nonetheless
you better behave yourself and refrain from consciously wreaking havoc with
the ever fragile orders of life and time. You act, in short, as if it were
possible not to act. This documentary very obtrusively, one could argue,
insists on refraining from talking about its rather paradoxical position
at all. Which might be a good thing, of course.
It, however, results, in this case, in a reproduction of clichés,
or myths, or ideologies that seem almost inextricably connected to acting.
These have very much to do with the thin life between acting and not acting,
between the finding of a form and the dangers of art as technique. The ideology
of acting is that it is your life you in away put on the line and give a
form, which lies in a technique. This is, at least, the ideology still very
vital in this former Eastern German school of acting (which it is: a school
of acting). This ideology produces either "perfect actors" like Constanze
Becker, one of the four characters whose life Veiel here documents, who very
smoothly continues her acting career in the more renowned, publicly funded
theaters of German cities. Or it forms (and fails to form at the same time)
egos like Prodromos Antoniadis' who insists on being an artist capable of
conquering the world - a hubris his teachers cannot really act against as
the immodest idea of acting as an art (as opposed to: as an artistic and
highly artificial technique) is implicit in their own ideology.
Or it, miraculously, fails to reign in the stubborn and most impressive
individuality of one Stephanie Stremler who is not accepted at first, but,
it almost seems, wills her way into this institution one year later. She
seems the least estimated (of the four) by the Ernst-Busch-teachers and she
is the one who is most incorruptable by any ideologies. Acting is her life
in a way different from the others. The others seem to know nothing but acting
and the world of theater, she however - for whom, no doubt, living is acting
in a very existential manner - manages to aquire a life closely connected
to acting, but still outside school. She marries an Israeli musician, she
in an inoffensive way completely stays outside, it seems, and even stand
above all subtle and not so subtle techniques of forming by subordination
that make the Ernst-Busch-Schauspielschule seem like a perfect Foucauldian
institution. And she also manages to stubbornly subvert Andres Veiel's in
the other cases rather successful attempts to give his documentary and, a
forteriori, the life of his characters the rather blissfully unreflecting
form and order that makes it acceptable on the screens of German movie theaters,
where "Die Spielwütigen" as one of very few documentary films can be
seen at the moment.
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