Quick, Quick, Quick

Visiting Mark Ravenhill at the Forum of Young European Playwrights

Some writers' legs... while writing. Foto: Valerie Kattenfeld

In and around the art club Nassauischer Kunstverein. Mark Ravenhill has instructed the emerging authors gathered here to pair off and spread out across the entire premises. Some sit on the hardwood floors of the building’s vast halls, some smoke on the balcony and some take a little walk.
 Heiđar Sumarliđason from Iceland, an athletic guy in shorts and with a full blond beard and a cup of coffee in his hand, tells the Vienna resident Dominic Oley of a traumatic theatre experience:

Heiđar: So it was two days before the premiere of my play, “Pieces,” and the director decided to cut fifteen minutes of it. There was nothing I could do. She said: “Just trust me.” But the performance was horrible. My words were there, but they no longer fit to what was happening. It was like I was trying to say something completely different than what I’d intended when I wrote it.

Dominic: And that’s why you stage your own plays now…

Heiđar: I have been focusing on directing recently, yes. I actually haven’t written anything in three years, but I’ve directed English and Polish plays. I’m even planning a college musical. I’d like to try my hand at all theatrical areas.

Dominic: How do you make it work financially?

Heiđar: It’s not easy. But after investing four years of my time and money in an artistic education, I wouldn’t want to work at any old day job.

Scene 2

It is Wednesday afternoon, and the forum participants are discussing the play “For Lunch” by Lukáš Brutovský. The Slovakian author is inconspicuous and introverted, but he plays the guitar in a black metal band in his free time. Ravenhill has his pupils read texts the evening before so that they can discuss them the next day. Ravenhill has a habit of prompting the participants to give their opinions in turn.

Ravenhill: Fjolla?

Fjolla Hoxha: I like the play’s dynamic structure, Lukáš. Everything happens really fast – quick, quick, quick.

Ravenhill: Marijana?

Marijana Ćosić: I had the song “The End” by The Doors in my head the whole time I was reading it. Plus, I think it’s cool that there’s so much food in it.

Ravenhill: Saara?

Saara Turunen: I like the characters’ emotional vitality, the fact that they don’t come across as cold and distanced. When you read it, it’s easy to sense that his role model is Thomas Bernhard, but he still has his own unique style.

Scene of the workshop with Mark Ravenhill (first left).

No one offers negative criticism. Are the young authors being careful not to hurt each other or are they all actually geniuses? That could be, since even Ravenhill praises the text and its translation into English.

Ravenhill: I feel that you are very good at using words precisely and sparingly, Lukáš. I liked that a lot.

Ravenhill’s light, freckled hands emphasize what he is saying with plastic gestures, representing the precision being discussed. At this moment, the room is quiet.

Lukáš: This is the first play in which I consciously used short sentences. My writing used to be more prosaic, and I never really paid much attention to finding the right words. But for this play, I knew the wording had to be exact.

In comparison with his colleagues in their late thirties, Lukáš Brutovský, at the tender age of 21, practically represents the next generation of the next generation of playwrights. Ravenhill was very surprised to learn how young he was.

Flashback

Ravenhill: Wow! You are a baby!

The present
Ravenhill is leaning back in his chair, arms crossed. A tiger tattoo peeks out from underneath his black T-shirt with a big city skyline. He listens attentively as he plays with his iPhone, which he slides out of its case. His most singular feature, and therefore the thing most worth mentioning, is the pair of black patent leather sneakers that he wears every day.

Scene 3

Back to Lukáš Brutovský. In the middle of the discussion on “For Lunch,” Segor  Hadžagić arrives. He is late because he had to finish the catalogue for a film festival in Sarajevo.

Ravenhill: How did your work go, Segor?

Segor: Good!

Ravenhill: You should definitely come see Lukáš’ play in September! Lukáš, there will be a party afterwards, right?

Lukáš: There usually is! I hope so!

Segor takes his seat next to Ravenhill and begins to leaf through our print | blog. He wasn’t able to read Lukáš’ play last night, so he won’t be able to get much out of the conversation. At one point, however, the course of the discussion attracts Segor’s attention and he looks up.

Ravenhill: The play has a very strong ending. As an author, you’re fortunate if you know what the final image or the last bit of dialogue is going to be from the very beginning. That way you can build up the entire play to culminate at that point.