Internet-Zeitschrift für Kulturwissenschaften	17. Nr.	Februar 2010
Sektion 1.11.	American and Austrian Literature and Film: Influences, Interactions and Intersections Sektionsleiter | Section Chair: Donald G. Daviau (University of California at Riverside) Dokumentation | Documentation | Documentation

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Fräulein Else: Schnitzler’s Novella Adapted for the American Stage

 Liz Ametsbichler (University of Montana) [BIO]

Email: liz.ametsbichler@mso.umt.edu

 I.

Arthur Schnitzler (1862-1831) is a renowned and world-wide icon of fin-de-siècle and early twentieth-century Austrian literature and the German-language stage. Still, despite being well-known, oft-performed, and widely read, there has been much debate about the role that Schnitzler played in the literary scene of Vienna. During his lifetime, he was variously accepted and rejected.(1) He was often seen as being (only) a chronicler of the turn-of-the and early twentieth century, and some critics even have claimed that Schnitzler was only able to depict events and issues pertaining to the last days of Habsburg rule (to the end of World War I), even when he wrote the works after 1918. He thus repeatedly was viewed as being anachronistic, already in his own lifetime. Yet, if we look at his works, specifically in this case, Fräulein Else, more closely, we can see that Schnitzler is not only a “modern” author, but an author who remains significant, even for the early twenty-first century (almost one-hundred years later). In this study, I attempt to demonstrate this by looking at the dramatization and staging of Schnitzler’s novella in the United States in the past few years. The question guiding my examination is: why does Else’s story present a compelling story for us in the U.S., as well as in Austria, where it is still performed at the Akademietheater, circa ninety years after its stream-of-consciousness publication debut?

In recent years, Schnitzler’s name has been in the public eye – at least in the “cultural” eye – for the adaptations of two of his works on stage and in film that have been acknowledged by American audiences and been semi-successful, either because they have been performed on Broadway, or because the characters have been performed by well-known actors (i.e., Tom Cruise, Nicole Kidman). The Blue Room,(2) a 1998 play adapted by David Hare from Schnitzler’s Reigen (often known in English/French as La Ronde) for English audiences, was first performed in London in September 1998, where it was a commercial success. It later moved to the Cort Theatre in New York (with the same cast), where it received mixed reviews.(3) The reasons for the difference in reception between English and American audiences remain a question for a later inquiry. Of consequence here, though, is that the play has continued, throughout the century, to be included in anthologies of Anglo-European drama, has been included in university studies on world drama, and has been an integral part of film studies (Max Ophüls), which attests to Schnitzler’s prominent position in world literature, i.e. on the world stage.(4)

While the play Reigen is fairly well-known – and has been throughout the twentieth century (also because of the film La Ronde) – recently, a lesser-known (at least in the U.S. and to a general public) prose work by Schnitzler, his Traumnovelle, was adapted for American cinema as Eyes Wide Shut by Stanley Kubrick in 1999. Even though the leads in this film were the famous Cruise/Kidman duo (at that time married in real life) and the director/producer was the famous Kubrick, it did not receive very favorable critique, partially because audiences did not seem to think that the plot, i.e. action of Traumnovelle (1926) transferred well from early twentieth-century
Vienna to late-twentieth-century New York. Still, well-received or not, Eyes Wide Shut brought Schnitzler to the American public – consciously or unconsciously.(5)

Most recently, Fräulein Else has come into the spotlight of American theater. Francesca Faridany translated and adapted the novella for the stage, where it had its American premiere at the Berkeley Repertory Theatre in 2003, with Faridany playing the title role and Stephan Wadsworth directing the production. Schnitzler had begun working on the novella in 1921, although it was not published until 1924. At that time, he also planned a dramatized version of the work, which never materialized, but his intentions indicate that he also believed in the dramatic nature of Else’s interior monologue. In 1929, a silent film version was produced, starring the actress Elisabeth Bergner, whom Schnitzler also had envisioned for the theater production. And, in 1932, one year after Schnitzler’s death, the first stage version was performed, adapted and produced by Theodor Komisarjevsky for his then-wife Peggy Ashcroft, with a cast of twenty four.

Two central problems to be considered when adapting the novella for a stage performance are: first, how to represent Else’s inner monologue and the stream-of-consciousness technique used in the novel on the stage; and second, but relatedly, should this be a one-woman show or should others play the characters who speak to Else, which is indicated in the text through cursive font. The production that has played at the Akademietheater in Vienna has opted for the first alternative. Currently, Dorothee Hartinger plays the title role in her one-woman performance, and (one version of) a dramatized reading of the novella is performed on CD by Senta Berger (2002/2005). On the cover of the CD, we are told: “Senta Berger liebt Schnitzlers Novelle. Dieses Hörbuch ist keine Lesung, es ist eine dramatische Inszenierung, ein ein-Personen-Stück, eine packende Privatvorstellung, der man atemlos bis zum tragischen Ende lauscht.”

II

Before I explore the many reasons why I think that Fräulein Else is still a gripping and relevant work for contemporary audiences, I would like to give an overview of Faridany’s adaptation and look at performances that followed on various stages in the U.S. The Berkeley Repertory Theatre produced the world premiere adaptation in association with the La Jolla Playhouse. It ran in Berkeley from 28 February – 28 March 2003 and at La Jolla 10 June – 13 July. Faridany played Fräulein Else, and other characters included in this performance were Paul, Cissy, [Paul’s] Mother, Herr von Dorsday, and the Porter. It was then taken to the East Coast, where it had its premiere at the Long Wharf Theater in New Haven, CT (December of 2003) in conjunction with the McCarter Theater Center in Princeton (January-February of 2004). Here, Faridany and the actress Tara Falk alternated as Else. From 22 April – 16 May 2004, it was at the Court Theatre in Chicago with Whitney Sneed playing Else.

In 2006, Amy de Lucia adapted the novella and performed it at Theatre 5 in New York (8 – 22 October). De Lucia’s version is also mostly a one-woman show, with voiceovers to indicate dialogue versus inner monologue. As we can see, Fräulein Else was widely played on the American stage in the early twenty-first century, and by looking at some of the reviews in the following, we can infer that it was successful.

In an interview with Faridany and director/husband Stephen Wadsworth that accompanies the program for the Berkeley performance, they discuss how Fräulein Else came to be. Faridany had read in a biography of Peggy Ashcroft (December 1998) about how the 1932 audience “had been audibly shocked and captivated by a glimpse of Peggy’s naked back” as she played Else. Since this had been anticipated, the piece had been censored and was performed “under the auspices of a private club.” Faridany, never having heard of the work, became intrigued, especially when she had trouble finding a translation of it. Finally, she located one and finding the writing fascinating and disturbing, she became “hooked” by it and wanted to play the role. She decided to translate the work herself for several reasons; for example, she had discovered that the 1925 translation that she read had omitted various “racy” details, and also she “wanted to get the Austrian-ness of Else, through the German language, to explore the various meanings of the German words and have a broader palette from which to make a new text.” Faridany and Wadsworth were then invited to go to the Sundance Theatre Lab (Utah) to work on the Else script in July 2002. In the meantime, they had visited Italy and stayed in the Hotel Fratazza (which “clearly wasn’t the Fratazza of Fräulein Else) and then went on to Vienna in order to visit the “source.” Their production ran for four months, beginning at the Berkeley Rep (February) and ending in La Jolla (July).

Of this production, the critic Dennis Harvey(6) writes of Faridany and Wadsworth that in “[p]reserving the original novella’s largely stream-of-consciousness voice, they’ve devised a one-act that’s ingenious and often delightful – if, in the end, something dangerously close to a theatrical stunt.” Harvey’s review is mixed: “Her interior thoughts [...] are a nonstop babble of gossip, frivolous digressions, fancies derived from romance novels and pretentious foreign-language phrases.” Further, he observes that “Faridany’s performance doesn’t convey the youthful charm or beauty that evidently bewitch most of the chateau guests. But […] it’s certainly a whirring marvel of comic mannerism, one that underlines Schnitzler’s satirical intent.” But more negatively: “It’s after the confrontation with Dorsay [sic] that Faridany and Wadsworth’s conception (quite likely Schnitzler’s as well) begins to seem too narrow – Else is kept such a one-note flibbertigibbet that her downfall carries no emotional weight.” Yet, he continues: “Their ‘Fräulein Else’ is an impressive feat, particularly in demands made of and pulled off by its lead thesp[ian]. But a little more compassion and lyricism (of which Wadsworth is well capable) would have made the whole much more resonant.”

Another reviewer, Richard Connema,(7) wrote on 17 March 2003:

Francesca Faridany is a solo tour de force. She is constantly talking to the audience, telling us her innermost thoughts and her fantasies, which are sometimes interrupted by brief conversations with other members of the cast. The play is mostly a monologue for Ms. Faridany. I would describe her as something of a ‘chatterbox,’ and most of the monologue is rather monotone. However, this actress is brilliant in her mannerisms and she especially shines toward the end of the melodrama.

In January of 2004, David Anthony Fox(8) wrote of the production at the McCarter Theatre in Princeton: “This honorable, intelligent and visually sumptuous theatrical version of Else is a world apart from Kubrick’s laughably pretentious turkey. Yet (like Eyes) Else ultimately fails, proving that Schnitzler knew precisely what he was doing when he chose his literary medium.” Fox also writes that Faridany “is far too old to make a convincing Else.” Of the same performance, Kathryn Osenlund(9) wrote: “Else comes across as more terminally silly than crazy or tragic […],” and “[p]erhaps due to Ms. Faridany’s intense involvement in creating this theatre piece from the original Schnitzler, and her inhabiting of Else in several productions, her character does not appear to have a single spontaneous moment.” Osenlund also wonders if Faridany, “who is energetic and truly entertaining, should be playing the part of a nineteen-year old.” This criticism – also Fox’s – does not seem to be justified (though I haven’t seen her performance) after having listened to Senta Berger’s (born 1941) mesmerizing dramatic reading. In the end, though, Osenlund assesses: “Nevertheless, Fräulein Else is an unusual, lively and intriguing theatre piece.”

On a more positive note about this same production, Bob Rendell(10) titled his review: “McCarter’s Fräulein Else: A Must See for Serious Theatergoers.” In the body of his critique, he wrote:

The adaptation is by Francesca Faridany, who dominates the stage in a tour de force performance in the title role. […] Francesca Faridany is not to be missed. Her energy, early on blithe self centeredness, and ever increasing manic behavior are breathtaking to behold. She is more mature than Else, but the years melt away as her situation spins more and more out of control. It seems to me that in some of Else’s stream-of-consciousness monologues, the voice of a more mature observer (Schnitzer [sic] and/or Faridany) comes through. I feel that while relaying her inner thoughts, Faridany adds a dimension of mature observation, whether intended or not, which provides an added dimension to the text.

Another observation of Rendell’s underscores why I think that Schnitzler’s work continues to have general appeal, even today:

Else is a victim of her gender and her position at the lowest end of her social circle. However, her resulting values and persona are not admirable. Add this to the theatrically stylized, literary nature of the play, and its density and hectic pace, and the result is that Fräulein Elsa [sic] will have its greatest appeal to aficionados of theatre and literature.

David Dewitt(11) wrote 7 December 2003 about Tara Falk’s performance as Else at New Haven’s Long Wharf Theater, where she alternated with Faridnany, that:

Else is an exhausting role, demanding a windup energy that propels the play to a cathartic destination. Ms. Falk attacks the part with heart and conviction. She makes the most of Else’s effusive wit, making clear that the young woman is as smart as she is naïve. The role’s speedy torrent of words almost ensures that at times a certain precision is sacrificed, but Ms. Falk compensates for any such lack with fearless gusto.

However, the same critic also comments on Faridany’s performance: “[she] brings extraordinary clarity to the complex title role of ‘Fräulein Else’ […] Ms. Faridany gives progression to Else’s breathtaking journey into madness, finding high gear in her high-stakes session with Dorsday […] After this richly played scene, Ms. Faridany shares with the audience every one of Else’s tormented or playful thoughts, even both at once […].” Further Dewitt writes: “[…] Ms. Faridany exposes many other sides of the rich psycho-theatrical creation that is Else. Her climax has uncontestable power; it is a show-stopping assertion of self that puts triumph in this tragedy, moving it beyond mere melodrama. Ms. Faridany, clearly, has the polished actor’s skills to sell this role.”(12)

As I have summarized above, the eponymous character seems to be the main focus of much of the critical reception of the play, and besides Faridany and Falk, two other actresses have taken on this role: Whitney Sneed in Chicago and Amy de Lucia in New York. About Sneed’s performance, Jenn Q. Goddu(13) wrote on 19 May 2004:

But it is Sneed who is a magnetic presence throughout the production. In her Else we see the magic that other characters describe. And we see so much more as Sneed’s Else runs the gamut of emotions, always making it abundantly clear to the audience what is interior monologue and what Else is saying out loud to this show’s few other characters […]. The production moves slowly at first […] but Sneed’s impressively focused talent is something audiences won’t soon forget.

And about Amy de Lucia’s October 2006 performance in New York, the critic Ivanna Cullinan observed:(14)

With her feverish commitment and occasional strong grace, Amy de Lucia captures much of Else’s battle. In a demanding show which requires all things to be communicated through the one character and her stream-of-consciousness thoughts, de Lucia does not shirk from the difficulties. Urgency and high emotions surge through her Else, and the tormented flailing, arrogance, and awkwardness of a teenager is clearly evoked.

III

Reviews of Fräulein Else oftenseem to focus on the actresses’ performances as the title figure, yet Schnitzler addresses issues here that make the work topical for twenty-first-century audiences, even though it was published in 1924 and set in 1912 (at least in Faridany’s adaptation), and which lend significance to the work above and beyond any singular performance of an actress. In this section, I discuss reasons why Else remains so contemporary and recently has caught the imagination of the American stage.            As one example, Lucy Smith Conroy, the director of the Chicago performance with Sneed in the title role, comments in Behind the Scenes at Court Theatre IV.IV (2004)(15) on why Else is still relevant today: “In 2004 this play is important because of its focus on the individual spirit. It taps into our desire to understand the choices and motivations of other people. It draws us into the needs, fears and longings of another human being and increases our capacity for empathy.” It is more than empathy, of course, that draws us; it is also that we identify with Else’s stream-of-consciousness, which makes her real and human to us. We can truly relate to Else’s dilemma – also because of the method of delivery. Beyond this, however, her dilemma reveals a portrait of society, and not just Else’s.

Many articles have been written over the last almost one-hundred years about Fräulein Else. Scholars have analyzed many aspects of the work, from the Jewish milieu (and antisemitism) portrayed,(16) to feminist and gender readings,(17) discussions of the narrative strategy of “inner monologue,”(18) Fräulein Else in the context of bourgeois tragedy and the Enlightenment,(19) to the Kierkegaardian dualism of “Either/Or” that can be seen in the lack of Else’s impossible compromise,(20) and last, but not least, Else’s tendency to “stage” her actions, which can be seen from her own comments in the work about her various actions and reactions  – to name but a few of the methodological approaches used. Here, I would like to look briefly at the following issues that confront the reading/listening/watching audience in the context of the (American) stage production/s of the novella: gender issues that are enveloped in capitalism; social double standards; (the reality and confusion of awakening) sexuality (and its exploitation); existential loneliness; suicide, and ultimately, guilt. As critic Cullinan summarizes – and emphasizes for the pertinence of our discussion here:(21)

Arthur Schnitzler wrote about sex. In “Fräulein Else,” a stream-of-consciousness short story, he wrote about sex and all of the emotional layers that come with it – especially that which could be called repression by some but might be described by others as confusion without the ability to find a way through. This allows for some potent material to be mined from the power, danger and fragility found in adolescence and its emerging sexuality. Indicting a hypocritical society that praised virginity while promoting double standards and duplicitous behavior, Schnitzler created a work that has much resonance for today. Lest it seem too much Linzer torte and lace stockings, consider that the vulnerability of a 17-year-old [sic] girl forced to play at sexual stakes she doesn’t fully understand might seem a recognizable experience to a congressional page. Fräulein Else, as adapted and played by Amy de Lucia, is the page’s side of the story.

Indeed, Else’s role in her society and family has been compromised, even before her parents ask for her help in attaining money from Herr von Dorsday, since her father has gambled away the family’s money and she, as the “poor cousin,” is now dependent on her wealthy aunt for “alms.” At the same time, Else is well-aware of her value; she knows that she is beautiful, charming, and attractive. So do her parents. In essence, she has been raised as a commodity, underscoring the capitalistic principles governing her (and our) society. Her purity and virginity are a large part of her worth; undoubtedly, her parents had planned to find a suitable (i.e. wealthy) husband (with the appropriate status) for her – and, more broadly, the family – but now that the urgent need for money to forestall complete social ruin is so imminent, they are willing to undermine her (marital and commercial) value, hence her future, virginal “marketability,” by asking her to approach Dorsday for the money. They certainly know what this implies, as she herself comments: “…they’ve raised me only to sell myself, one way or another” (230).(22)

This is ironic on at least two levels. First, although Dorsday’s money may “save” Else’s father this time, it really is only a one-time, stop-gap measure, which she also recognizes: “So, I’m supposed to solicit Herr Dorsday …that’s insane. How does Mama imagine that? […] Horrible! Horrible! Even thirty thousand won’t save us. Always the same story! For seven years! No—longer.” Even her use of the word “solicit” attests to her consumer value and to her understanding of it. The second irony is, of course, that her parents’ request effectively undermines the first, since it means that she will no longer be the valuable commodity for which they had raised her; so, are they (if she didn’t commit suicide) condemning her to a life of prostitution (if exclusively to wealthy [Jewish?] men)?

In her “musings” about her father, it is evident that she and he have a special relationship, yet, as Astrid Lange-Kirchheim points out: “…das Vater-Tochter-Verhältnis [ist] nicht als inzestuös […] anzushen, sondern al seine Missbrauchsbeziehung gestaltet …”(23) Else’s mother is complicit in this abuse as well; after all, she is the one who writes the letter. We never directly hear from Else’s father. It is particularly shocking to think that a mother could ask her daughter for this “favor,” yet it indicates both the severity of the family’s pending ruin, as well as the degree to which she has internalized the necessity to uphold social standing – the justification of double standards. This is a society that insists on the virginity of young women before marriage, but in reality is willing to sacrifice this moral façade – at the expense of the virginal daughter, in order to save the social upstanding family image. As Else, herself, comments: “The noble daughter sells herself for her beloved father…” (203); and “[Papa.] You have a daughter who grew up to be a beauty … “(243).

These comments continue, however, and indicate the complexity of the implications involved in her awakening sexuality and her sexual fantasies, so realistic for her nineteen-year-old, virginal state: “…ugh, disgusting!” (203). She, i.e. her body, has become an “object” for her parents, her society, and for the older man (Dorsday), who is to be the family’s savior. The actress Sneed comments on the applicability of this situation to today’s audiences:

Women today still struggle with being treated as sexual objects – maybe even more so than in the past. In order to save her father, Else must sacrifice herself by allowing her virgin body to be seen by a man who is manipulating the situation for his own sexual gratification. It represents an opportunistic man taking advantage of a young woman who is excited by the realization of her own sexuality. This is certainly a relevant issue today regardless of the socio-political setting of the play.(24)

Else’s disgust at being the object of Dorsday’s “gaze” (“How his eyes will stab and pierce me!” [232]) – who demands, as his “condition” for giving the money to her father, just to look at her nude body for fifteen minutes – is not so simple: in her meandering stream-of-consciousness, she fantasizes about various scenarios, in which men observe, admire, and desire her – including her cousin Paul. This stresses the objectification – and commodification – of her body that ultimately estranges her from herself and society. It also emphasizes the role of passivity: she is the one to be gazed upon, to be desired. As Heide E. Dietz Faletti observes about Else’s preoccupation with her situation:

These preoccupations are, in the main, the following: her own beauty, the prospect of a forced marriage to an older affluent man, unconsummated past flirtations, daydreams of her desirable nudity while reclining at a villa on marble steps […] thousands of freely chosen lovers, […] the affair between her attractive cousin Paul and a married woman Cissy, the fateful destination of Fiala for the rescuing funds, the specter of her father’s suicide, the growing conviction that all individuals known to her are murderers, and her increasingly imperative need to disrobe in public and thereby affirm her sexuality and liberation from gendered slavery.(25)

This objectification of her body, the desire to be an object of the male gaze, highlights her self-understanding as an article of trade. It also highlights her knowing that there is no other choice but to give (expose) herself – publicly – while also desiring to do so. Why should Dorsday alone have the privilege of seeing her? The act of publicly disrobing, ultimately, destabilizes her identity,(26) while concurrently stressing her need to be an object for others(27) and underscoring her physicality as being subject to economic manipulation.(28)  

Else is a victim of societal double standards and of societal guilt. While she has fantasies, typical for nineteen-year-olds, about sex and sexuality, these same fantasies are wrought with guilt. She should not have them and should not desire to be the object of the “male gaze.” Yet, she is an attractive, charming “object.” Hence, she has a split identity: on the one hand, she is a passive object, while on the other, she decides (whether consciously or unconsciously) to “act.” In the course of her inner monologue, she decides to publicly disrobe – concurrently to keep her “contract” with Dorsday (to save her father), and also to satisfy her desire for “public” acknowledgement. She assumes the guilt brought on her by her parents/family (“…and it’ll all be my fault” [226]) and accepts her role as a commodity for her family. In this hypocritical society, she becomes an object that can (potentially) save her family. While obstensibly doing so, she also lives out her fantasy of being “desired” and admired. Although she wants to save the family, she also, certainly, does not absolve them – i.e., her immediate and extended family, but also acquaintances – from guilt: “All of you are guilty for my having turned out this way, not only Papa and Mama. Rudi is also guilty and Fredi and all of you, all of you, every one, because no one really cares about anyone else” (231). And: “They’re all murderers. Dorsday and Cissy and Paul; even Fred is a murderer and Mama is a murderess. They’ve all murdered me and don’t want to admit it” (260). Interestingly, she doesn’t include the main reason for her suicide here: her father; yet, it is his life that is on the line: “A human life is at stake. Papa’s life!” (223). In this same monologue, though, she is aware of the high stakes for her, which also indicates her capitalistic value: “For whom will I have to strip next time?” (233); “When you’ve sunk as low as I have, nothing matters anymore. Today’s just the beginning.” (233); and “Yes, I’m like that, I’m like that. I’m a slut” (223). Throughout her interior monologue, she indicates her vulnerability, while also focusing on her concern for her father, with whom, as already noted, she has a special bond, though at one point, she does think: “There’s nothing else for you to do, Papa—you have to kill yourself” (222).

The internal scenarios that Else contemplates range from blaming herself for the situation; blaming everyone else; dreaming of escape (even to America with her father – or: “I’d rather like being married in America, but not to an American. Or maybe I could marry an American, but then live in Europe” [193]); reminiscing of better, childhood days; fantasies of love and sexuality; death/suicide wishes, to name but a few. These thoughts appear in a scattered manner, interspersed with observations about her surroundings (social circle); her sense of her effect on them; the general (hierarchical) social constellation around her – of which she inhabits the lowest rung; and comments about her own appearance. Her thoughts and fantasies are many, given the nature of the genre, and it is somewhat difficult to summarize the extent of the array. This characteristic probably was what induced reviewer Dennis Harvey to describe Else’s interior thoughts as “a nonstop babble of gossip, frivolous digressions, fancies derived from romance novels and pretentious foreign-language phrases.”(29)   To the contrary, however: the nonstop “babble” of commentary, comments, observations, and conversations with the self is exactly how the thought process works, not only for a nineteen-year-old girl confronted with expectations, such as those that Else’s parents require (i.e., sacrificing, but essentially selling herself). Finally, through her musings (“babble”), she seems to realize the ludicrousness of the situation: “But I won’t kill myself. I don’t have to do that. I’m not going to go to Herr von Dorsday’s room, either. Wouldn’t think of it. I’ll be damned if I’ll stand naked in front of an old lecher for fifty thousand gulden in order to save a good-for-nothing from jail. No, no, neither for the one nor for the other” (240-41), whereas earlier, she had thought: “Papa can kill himself. I’ll kill myself too. It’s a disgrace, such a life” (218), and later: “I don’t care whether [Dorsday] sends [the money] or not. I don’t feel the slightest sympathy for Papa any more” (247). But, she continues: “I don’t feel any sympathy for anyone. Not for myself, either. My heart is dead” (247) – a sign of her impending death.

This existential crisis underscores Else’s acute sense of loneliness, a problem especially germane in contemporary society. No one seems to understand her, which exacerbates her crisis, and ultimately – along with her “perverted” wish to expose herself – her unconscious desire to expose, not only herself, but her duplicitous society. She often comments on her loneliness in her interior monologue: “How lonely I am here! I have no girlfriends. I have no boyfriends either. Where are they all?” (205), and: “I’m all alone. No one can imagine how alone I am” (207). Such thoughts draw attention to her isolated position in society and in her family, as well as emphasizing the feeling of alienation for any nineteen-year-old in contemporary society. She has no one in whom she can confide – which may have helped her deal with the situation.           

Her aunt’s reaction to the social catastrophe unquestionably exemplifies Else’s dilemma. She already treated Else as less worthy (in Else’s opinion: “Don’t worry Aunt Emma … [I’m not interested in Paul]” [192]), but her reaction to Else’s collapse at the end demonstrates her absolute lack of understanding (or abhorrence) of Else. She can only think about saving face and not spending another day at the hotel, rather than being concerned about her niece’s critical, life-threatening state – physically, emotionally, and psychologically.

In the midst of her crisis, in Else’s nonlinear thought patterns, she longs for “a completely new life” (208). Naively, she asks herself: “Why haven’t I done it [begun a new life] before?” (208), while sophisticated enough to realize: “Everything at home is settled by joking, but no one’s really light-hearted. Everyone is basically afraid of everyone else. Everyone is all alone. Mama is alone because she isn’t bright enough and doesn’t understand anything about anyone – not about me, not about Rudi, and not about Papa” (208). Else, hence, aptly embodies twentieth-century estrangement.

One final point, apropos for an analysis of “Else on the (American) stage” is a brief discussion of her own “performance” in the work. In essence then, any actress would be participating in metaperformance. Several of Else’s comments indicate her sense of “performing.” She thinks, for example: “How huge the hotel is – like an enormous, brightly lit, magic castle. Everything is so enormous. […] There is no moon yet. It will rise only for the performance – the grand performance […] when Herr von Dorsday bids his slave to dance naked” (230); or “ I have beautiful legs, Herr von Dorsday, as you and the other participants in this festival will soon have occasion to learn” (233). Very early on in the work, after leaving Cousin Paul and his lover Cissy on the tennis court, she observes of her own behavior: “That was rather well said” (192). When thinking about Dorsday’s request to observe her naked for fifteen minutes (after all, “even thirty thousand gulden have to be earned” [216], as he says – again substantiating the economics of the capitalistic situation in which she finds herself), she comments: “For whom will I have to strip next time?” (223), stripping being an extremely voyeuristic performance highlighting the demands, expectations, and internalization by females of the male “gaze.” And, at the end of the work, she comments: “I don’t even know myself what’s going to happen; I’m in a terrible suspense” (244), which, since suspense (Spannung) is an inherent characteristic of drama/theater, suggests the dramatic quality of her “performance.”

On a somewhat lighter note, Else is worried (typical of a [young] female) about her dwindling supply of silk stockings and that the sole pair she still has, has a rip below the knee. This “rip” symbolizes her sunken status in society (her family can no longer afford new [“un-ripped”] stockings) and the “rip” in her identity. Her final “performance,” her “performative” disrobing for the audience in the music room, underscores the dramatic culmination of her interior monologue, as well as her rebellion against social confines and hypocritical societal expectations that, in the end, condemn her to death while they also, ironically, condemn her “act,” because the members of this society are themselves unable to act. They are not capable of understanding Else’s dilemma/state of mind; they are not capable of acting as advocates for a confused teenager who is struggling to understand, i.e. cope with, duplicitous social norms. On the one hand, society says “be pure,” and on the other, it condones (and in this case expects) sexual exploitation of those pure, young women.

In conclusion, it is clear that Fräulein Else, despite being published over eighty years ago and – for Faridany’s adaptation – having taken place almost one hundred years ago (1912), presents timeless problems and dilemmas. Schnitzler’s use of “stream-of-consciousness”(30) certainly captures the contemporary imagination. Besides this compelling literary technique, the themes of adolescence insecurities, naiveté, yet narcissistic self-indulgence, and guilt, social expectations (and hypocrisy), the dilemmas of sexuality, and existential loneliness are all issues that continue to confront twenty-first-century audiences. It is no wonder that this novella – and its dramatic potential – caught Francesca Faridany’s eye. Hopefully, Else will continue to be performed for American audiences as successfully as it/she was in 2003-2006.

One last note: although I have focused on the above topics in this examination,  there are unquestionably many other, very pertinent issues that demand closer scrutiny, but for which there is no  space here, which therefore will have to wait for another venue, for example: Else’s Jewishness (and insinuated anti-Semitism against Dorsday, which also has socio-hierarchical [Jewish assimilation] implications), an extensive psychoanalytical reading (also dream interpretation), a closer look at Else’s place in German literary tradition, a more detailed look at Else’s sexuality and sexual desires (“I’m a slut” [233]) – also for her cousin Paul (and in this context, her subtle competition with Cissy), as well as her extreme disdain for Dorsday (would it have been more palatable for her to “solicit” money from a man less despicable to her? [“How his eyes will stab and pierce me!” [232]), among other topics.

Notes:

(1) For a summary of early reception of Schnitzler’s dramas and prose in Russia, Japan, the USA, and Austria/Germany, see, for example, Reinhard Urbach, Schnitzler Kommentar zu den erzählenden Schriften und dramatischen Werken (München: Winker, 1974).
(2) An earlier filmed version of Reigen was Max Ophüls’s movie, made in 1950, which influenced many stage adaptations of the drama, including the Blue Room.
(3) Information on the Blue Room retrieved from: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Blue_Room.
(4) The recent publication of the Columbia Encyclopedia of World Drama (Irvington, NY: Columbia University Press, 2007) includes an entry on Schnitzler as well as entries on several of his plays.
(5) Also worth noting here are the playwright Tom Stoppard’s  two play adaptations of Schnitzler plays: Das Weite Land was rendered by Stoppard as Undiscovered Country in 1979, and in 1986, he adapted Liebei as Dalliance.
(6) Dennis Harvey in Legit Reviews – Regional, Entertainment – Variety (16 March 2003). Found at www.variety.com/review
(7) www.talkinbroadway.com
(8) 22-28 January at www.citypaper.net/articles
(9) Osenlund wrote the review for Curtain UP. The Internet Theater Magazine of Reviews, Features, Annotated Listings based on the 14 January 2004 performance. See: www.curtainup.com
(10) 19 January 2004 for Talkin’ Broadway Regional News & Reviews – New Jersey: www.talkinbroadway.com
(11) New York Times. See: http://theater2.nytimes.com
(12) David Dewitt, The New York Times (25 January 2004). See: http://theater2.nytimes.com
(13) See: http://centerstagechicago.com/theatre
(14) www.nytheatre.com (5 October 2006)
(15) www.courttheatre.org
(16) See: Andrew Barker, “Race, Sex and Character in Schnitzler’s Fräulein Else, German Life and Letters 54.1 (Winter 2001) 1-9.
(17) See, for example: Astrid Lange-Kirchheim, “Weiblichkeit und Tod: Arthur Schnitzlers Fräulein Else, Deutschunterricht 54.1 (2002): 36-47 and Brigitte Prutti, „Weibliche Subjektivität und das Versagen des sanften Patriarchen in Schnitzlers „Fräulein Else,“ ORBIS Litterarum 59 (2004): 159-87.
(18) See: Heidi e. Dietz Faletti, “Interor Monologue and the Unheroic Psyche in Schnitzler’s Leutnant Gustl  and Fräulein Else, The Image of the Hero in Literature, Media, and Society, eds. Will Wright and Steven Kaplan (Pueblo, CO: Colorado State UP, 2004) 522-27; and Craig Morris, “Der vollständige innere Monolog: Eine erzählerlose Erzählung? Eine Untersuchung am Beispiel von Leutnant Gustl und Fräulein Else, Modern Austrian Literature 31.2 (1998):30-51.
(19) See: Bettina Matthias, “Arthur Schnitzler’s Fräulein Else and the End of the Bourgeois Tragedy, Women in German Yearbook 18 (2002): 248-66, as well as Brigitte Prutti (footnote 17). 
(20) See: Siew Lian Yeo, “’Entweder oder’: Dualism in Schnitlzer”s Fräulein Else, Modern Austrian Literature 32.2 (1999): 15-26.
(21) Ivanna Cullinan writing on 5 October 2006 for: nytheatre.com
(22) All English quotes are from: Desire and Delusion. Three Novellas, selected and translated by Margret Schaefer (Chicago: Ivan R. Dee, 2003). Fräulein Else is pages 192-264. This quote is page 201.
(23) Lange-Kirchheim 38.
(24) An interview with Whitney Sneed, quoted in: www.courttheatre.org (October 2004) about her performance in Chicago.
(25) Faletti 524.
(26) Faletti 526.
(27) Faletti 526.
(28) Faletti 525.
(29) Harvey for Legit Reviews (16 March 2003).
(30) Schnitzler was the first German-language author to use this technique, even before James Joyce (who made it famous with his Ulysses) with his earlier novella, Leutnant Gustl (1900). Else is Schnitzler’s second stream-of-consciousness novella.

1.11. American and Austrian Literature and Film: Influences, Interactions and Intersections

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For quotation purposes:
Ametsbichler: Fräulein Else: Schnitzler’s Novella Adapted for the American Stage. In: TRANS. Internet-Zeitschrift für Kulturwissenschaften. No. 17/2008. WWW: http://www.inst.at/trans/17Nr/1-11/1-11_ametsbichler.htm

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