Twice “Blind” by Lot Vekemans: Because of family and stuff

Helen is convinced that the classic family as a community of solidarity is no longer a functioning concept. Her mother has died and her relationship with her father Richard is primarily shaped by one experience: he has fundamentally different opinions than her on every topic. As a former self-made careerist, Richard considers people to be selfish, with only the fittest living above the level of welfare. And these are primarily the users of family structures.

The resulting argument with Helen has already taken on a ritual character. After all, as a lawyer, she fights for equal opportunities for the socially disadvantaged and rejects a way of life in which people isolate themselves in small groups of people. Helen loves the large, diverse community – and prefers to ignore her father from her life. Bewilderment became alienation.

Die Dutch playwright Lot Vekemans In “Blind” deals with this social problem of the isolation and exclusion of people who think, live, feel or look differently. She does this in the private field of a dysfunctional father-daughter story as a generational conflict: shaping the future on the one hand, preserving the past on the other. It is important to explore whether the barriers of self-righteous beliefs and demands can be removed.

The daughter is forced into service

“Blind” is a perfectly constructed, extremely pointed and bitterly conducted chamber play dialogue that was reduced to a psychological-realistic style of acting at the Hannover Theater and the Osnabrück Theater.

Under the Directed by Leonie Rebentisch the stage in Hanover exudes the cold, white charm of wealth, while the textile design distinguishes Richard (Max Landgrebe) as a fashion-conscious egocentric. That fits. He is a wealthy pensioner who, out of fear of world events, has moved into a heavily guarded gated community. This luxurious prison sells isolation as security, allowing retreat into a tiny bubble of reality designed like a glass box.

Of course, no one should throw accusations around like stones without first reflecting on whether he or she should not be criticized for the mistakes or weaknesses that others have pointed out. The frosted glass panes, through which only blurry outlines can be seen, refer to the tumor in the father’s head, which robs him of his sight – and soon his life.

In keeping with Richard’s growing blindness to the reality on his doorstep and Helen’s (Johanna Wieking) left-wing idealism, he also becomes physically blind. That’s why he wants to force his daughter to take care of him. Because of family and stuff. Which she rejects with indignation. Helen likes to take on ecological and social responsibility everywhere, but not for her father.

Ping pong of opposing attitudes

In Osnabrück Richard (Thomas Kienast) lives on the verge of neglect in shabby pieces of a kitchen-living room. He nibbles on a desolate slice of bread, tends to a few pitiful plants, and passes the time with crossword puzzles. In this way, director Judith Jungk illustrates his loneliness, but contradicts the realism of the original and the entire social construction.

The ping-pong of opposing attitudes explodes in both venues when it comes to the topic of marriage. In Hanover, Helen is married to a black writer. Richard can hardly contain his clear rejection.

Your colleague in Osnabrück married a writer. The rejection of the lesbian relationship is also clear, which is why the daughter rightly calls her father a “racist, homophobic, smug asshole.” But she also rejects any statement that doesn’t correspond to her wokeness.

Avoidance impossible

Is there still an interest in perceiving each other, listening to each other, accepting opposites and getting closer? To do this, Vekemans has the shutters on Dad’s apartment closed indefinitely. Evasion is no longer possible. In Hanover, Richard continues to fluctuate between a grumpy face and a know-it-all grin. Only when he hears stories from the past does a smile flash across his face.

He sometimes barks: “Can’t I get a kiss?”, but remains cautious in his malice. Sometimes he is downright submissive and tries to show a touch of friendliness, while Helen, with her rushed and constantly annoyed demeanor, is the ruler of the heated duel. She comments with grimaces about how strange and even embarrassing she finds her father.

In Osnabrück the hierarchy is different. Richard comes across with a sonorous, powerful voice, the proud poses and the imperious sovereignty of a stage king, while Helen (Lua Mariell Barros Heckmanns) appears hostile but insecure and appears hurt by her father’s insults. She lives the anger of disappointed hopes and also seems irritated by feelings of guilt. Richard speaks to her unflinchingly from above, has every situation under control – except the finale of the power game.

The blinds open again and light of hope streams in. Richard asks what it means that she is his daughter. “That I wouldn’t have existed without you,” is his disappointing answer. “The rest is what we make of it,” says Helen.

In Hanover she doesn’t tolerate any contradiction, smiles and infects Richard with her suddenly awakened optimism. She is convinced that something can still happen with the two of them together.

In Osnabrück, the same dialogue simply formulates the impossibility of starting all over again. It speaks in favor of the template that it offers both options. And it speaks for the theaters that they have explored the ambivalences in different ways. The comparison in particular arouses curiosity about changing perspectives – not just in the theater.