Juli Zeh’s Plays: Political Firepower or Dramatic Fizzle?
A 2007 production of Juli Zeh’s play, “Corpus Delicti,” ignited debate upon its premiere at the Ruhrtriennale, marking the acclaimed novelist’s debut as a dramatist. The play, a gripping tale of a mock trial within a health dictatorship, resonated with audiences and critics alike, becoming a long-running success due too its sharp construction, polished dialogue, and exploration of pressing socio-political themes. The resurgence of interest in Zeh’s work, including the novel adaptation of “Corpus delicti” now appearing on school reading lists, has been amplified by the recent global pandemic – a period that mirrored the play’s themes of societal control and individual liberty.
However, none of Zeh’s subsequent plays, collected in the volume “Good Morning, Boys and Girls,” have achieved the same widespread acclaim. Premiered between 2009 and 2012, these works largely bypassed major stages and saw limited revivals, a consequence, critics suggest, of Zeh’s often overtly political messaging.
“The cactus,” which debuted at the Munich Volkstheater in 2009, exemplifies this approach. The play tackles sensitive issues like the war on terror, Islamophobia, racism, and sexism within law enforcement. The title itself is literal: the “threat” apprehended by authorities is represented by a cactus. Characters are deliberately archetypal, including Cem, a patrolman of migrant background portrayed as somewhat naive, and Susi, a police trainee who initially resists sexist remarks but ultimately succumbs to emotional distress.A notably forceful exchange features GSG9 operations manager Jochen Dürrmann, who delivers a scathing indictment of societal tolerance:
“You laugh at us for our tolerance…”
“Good Morning, Boys and Girls,” a play centered around a school shooting. The work relies heavily on familiar tropes – the perpetrator as a disaffected gamer and social outcast – and lacks originality. A character’s lament, “You know what pisses me off? You can’t do anything for the first time anymore. It’s all been there before. Our ancestors were partying hard. For us, the only option is karaoke.We get up every morning to sing a song someone else wrote while the music comes off the tape,” feels contrived despite its attempt at youthful cynicism.Though, the play does offer a potentially compelling protagonist.
only “203” distinguishes itself, offering a more unsettling exploration of social issues within a chamber play format. Initially resembling a Yasmina Reza-esque relationship drama, the play quickly introduces a disorienting setting, leaving the new arrival, Thomas, questioning his surroundings. is it a hidden camera experiment, a mental institution, or a facility run by the state’s security apparatus? The locked door and the unsettlingly familial treatment from the other inhabitants only deepen the mystery, leading Thomas to adopt the persona of a accomplished novelist named, fittingly, the author of “203.”
A chilling dialogue encapsulates the play’s dystopian vision:
Thomas: “A decadent world dominated by money. A small elite that is getting richer and richer, but also more and more bored. On the other hand, there are social problems, the prisons are full, no one knows what to do with the people in security custody anymore.” (…) Betty: “Na und?”Thomas: “You have to put two and two together. Convert the prisons into fattening farms and raise fat roasts for the super rich. The ultimate kick for the ultimate party. Brilliant, right?”
The concept – the super-rich treating the rest of humanity as livestock – is particularly disturbing, amplified by the characters’ detached and superficial responses to their impending fate. Despite exploring significant contemporary issues, Zeh’s plays often leave a muted impression. The weight of ostentatious political demands ultimately diminishes the literary impact, leaving one feeling that literature is brought to its knees.
