Children of the dead Slipping through the gray veil of heavy air that had not yet been cleared of gunpowder and fear, the fresh smell of renewal and independence imperceptibly penetrated the hearts of the people of Vienna, who lost the war no less than their silent neighbors, or rather what remained of them. They had only to find a hard surface under their feet and agree to become the next victims of a ruthless era of change for which everyone is equally the same. The ruthless chimera of the superiority of some over others, which gave rise to the most tragic aspect of the most terrible campaign of the last century, proved to be very dodgy, skillfully integrating into various versions of the continuation of the history of those who most experienced its Yin essence. The coming change of generations did not promise anything favorable, but there was nothing else to hope for.
The citizens of the Bright Future themselves, who recognize that “knowledge gives freedom, not work”, had different views on this subject, the degree of radicality of which largely depended on the size of the spiritual remnant in their families. It is difficult to imagine that representatives at different poles of property differentiation should unite in a common group for the sole purpose of destruction, not creation. Without a minute, the graduates of the school Peter and Anna, being brother and sister, hate literally everything around: their home - an old dilapidated house and a dirty, squalid and cluttered apartment; their parents, especially their disabled father - a former SS officer who turned into a night porter in his old age and, concurrently, a pervert photographer for his rudeness towards his mother and not only for this; their school, teachers, peers, the city, the country. They hate themselves, even though they do not openly admit it. The only exception in the invisible confrontation to the whole world is a schoolgirl Sophie from a wealthy family and a young worker named Hans.
“Before a Closed Door” is a case where the primary source is not the film that deserves the most attention. The novel by Nobel laureate Elfrida Jelinek at one time became a literary sensation for Austria, which had not yet known such sophisticated revelations. However, the real recognition came to her much later, after the film adaptation of her “The Pianist” no less uncompromising Michael Haneke. It was not far from the Swedish Academy. The talented writer, being personally familiar with her post-war childhood in a besieged country, really seems to be skilfully skinning the usual categories of Western European kapimirka, doing it without any shyness or even hinting at any morality. Colorful and insanely frank descriptions of the Viennese life through its perception by young people, resonantly echoing the historical stage, are not always read from the screen, which, of course, is a significant disadvantage of television productions. The final version of the script somewhat softened the sharpness of the work, including in its most terrible moments, but the underlying essence still remained.
The main characters of the picture almost correspond to their images, especially this applies to Rainer, named here Peter. He is a well-read romantic who played in imitation of Camus and Sartre and is clearly mistaken about his qualities of character. Despite his young age, his mind is already pretty defiled by disappointment in the past and present. Together with his sister, he dreams of poisoning his father with a time-lapse poison, unconsciously feeling in his heart an even more dangerous “poison of individualism, ready to be sprayed in all directions.” But for true anarchists, these “intellectual fascists” are too cowardly or not sufficiently motivated. Unable to resist the natural feelings of their age, they suffer from destructive internal contradictions, each time remaining in front of a closed door, behind which the path to happiness may begin. In this regard, even the little educated and simple Hans looks more natural. Despite their different social backgrounds and views, the four share a common misconception that they have strong will, which is nothing more than a desperate and crude attempt to oppose the recent past, and it is unknown where it will lead each of them.
In one of her later novels, Jelinek described the postwar generation of Austrians as “children of the dead” living, against their will, for their predecessors. Pity or contempt is worthy of both, it is very difficult to decide. The half-century era of neutrality has smoothed the sharpest corners of politics and economics, but it hardly completely changed the attitude of Austrians themselves to recent political history, which has distorted thousands of human destinies and drilled into their hearts an inexhaustible source of spiritual despair.