Dramaturgie im zeitgenössischen Tanz ist ? positiv gemeint ? ein heißes Eisen. Idealerweise sind Dramaturginnen und Dramaturgen während der Erarbeitung eines Stücks die besten Freunde der Choreografen.
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One
thing is crystal clear: in Argentina, football has temporarily
displaced reality. It's like a breather in the history of a country
otherwise so embroiled in conflict and in-fighting, like the eye of a
hurricane. This is particularly clear in the run up to the football World
Championships.
A few years ago, during the 2002 Championships, I saw an
Argentinian advertisement on Spanish television which showed this
perfectly, with that – seemingly unavoidable – aesthetic blend of
heroic song and tears (In Argentinian football, crying is a very male
activity). In the advertisement, a World Cup final is taking place
between Brazil (joy) and Argentina (sadness). The score is still 0:0 (a
state of uncertainty) when Argentina gets a penalty kick (the miracle).
Time seems to freeze in front of the TV set (the possibility of the
final blunder). At this moment there is a power cut (the crisis), and
only an old man (wisdom) on the street with a transistor radio pressed
to his ear – by the way, I could never understand how people could
listen to football matches on the radio, abstractly deciphering a
figurative game – hears the result and croaks "gol", after which young
people (the future) stream onto the balconies, unfurling flags. The cry
("Argentina", "Argentina") spreads from mouth to mouth, swelling to a
song intoned by a million throats.
The message is clear: only football
can wrench Argentina from its present darkness, this country that once
exported beef and now exports football meat. Needless to say, Argentina
did not win the World Cup in 2002. But it was world champion in 1978
and 1986, and very nearly again in 1990, so hopes are high for 2006.
One thing's for sure: if Argentina does win, it will be to revel in the
tragic possibility of losing again in 2010.
It's a commonplace
that every country has the government, and the football team, it
deserves. The Argentinian team – representing an almost pathologically
psychoanalytical country – will once again fluctuate between depression
and nervous breakdown. It's an unpredictable team, at times weary with
gloom, at times foaming over with ebullience, exposed at every moment
to the blustering elements and doomed to existential catastrophes.
The
team selection represents all Argentinians, with their extreme
historical cycles, their ups and downs, their triumphs and turpitudes.
More than that: it embodies the Pavlovian desires of Argentinians to
yell doggedly "Argentina! Argentina!" (the call of salvation alluded to
in our national anthem) without really knowing if it is love or horror
that makes them so hopelessly devoted to football and their country. In
short: everything is possible with this team.
*
Argentinian team profile
Rodrigo Fresan was
born in Buenos Aires in 1963. Today he lives and works as a writer in
Barcelona. His recent novel "Kensington Gardens" is about J. L. Barrie,
creator of Peter Pan.
This article forms part of compilation of writings originally published in the Neue Zürchner Zeitung magazine Folio on May 2, 2006.
Translation: jab
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