Life Guidance through Heaven and Hell

In Ruth Mader’s feature film Life Guidance (2017), an outsourced agency – uncannily reminiscent of the Austrian Public Employment Service –sorts out all those who cannot or dislike to perform. Only the gods “in heaven”, represented by a well-known piece of the woods above the city of Vienna, it seems, know how to live.

Alexander: “I love you!” – Anna: “I love you!” – An intro­duc­to­ry exchange of words in a near-future society in which only what is desirable and pro­duc­ti­ve appears possible. Words of love therefore mean no more than the lyrics of children’s songs: “I will become better than myself, I reach for the limit. Everyone has a choice-that is optimal.” In a restau­rant we hear Anna, a physician and the hero’s wife, say: “The accoun­tant can’t keep his jobs, […] his anxiety keeps making him fail again and again, […], I can’t tell him that the rest housing isn’t looming-it is looming.”- “The unbe­ara­ble lightness of being-from the life of a minimum-benefit recipient,”[1] a fellow diner quips.

Not yet four minutes into the film, miniature by miniature, we learn the tri­par­ti­te order of tomorrow’s world: high per­for­mers lead lives of pro­spe­ri­ty – “the middle”. Those who fall behind face the rest housing (Schalf­bur­gen in German) – “hell”. A non-place erased from all maps (we will recognize Vienna’s Karl-Marx-Hof[2]), where minimum-benefit reci­pi­ents dwell, take psy­cho­phar­maceu­ti­cals, and receive the con­so­la­ti­on of the Church. Above it all lies the true heaven-beyond the society of work.

Someone must have slandered Alexander (played by Fritz Karl), for one morning – without having done anything wrong – he is visited at home by his Life Guide. Alexander’s wife Anna urges him not to take it lightly: the support of the Life Guidance agency cannot be refused. Measures – an art-therapy group is shown – must be attended. There is no legal recourse against the agency’s rating. If Level 5 is assigned, banish­ment to the rest housing follows.

Alexander decides to fight the verdict of Life Guidance. His actions do not go unnoticed. His Guide summons him to a film screening at which a fragment of Alexander’s uncon­scious is projected onto the screen. The agency knows everything.

When Alexander realizes that his wife has been spying on him on behalf of Life Guidance, he runs amok. He beats an employee of the company and goes in search of other dreams that have been taken from him. He pene­tra­tes the forbidden zone of the rest housing, almost begins an affair, learns of his father’s death, and in boundless rage drives uphill toward a patch of Viennese woodland called “Am Himmel” (“In Heaven”). There he seeks answers from those who truly hold power. Abruptly, he stumbles into a hunting party of the super-rich – men only (the notorious arms lobbyist Mensdorff-Pouilly and husband of a former Austrian minster plays himself) – and is invited to join them for a snack.

There Alexander stands like a choirboy while the elderly gentlemen mock the dis­sa­tis­fac­tion of the per­for­mance class. When Alexander protests, “You have installed a murderous system…!”  they sneer: “Complain to the ombudsman!”, “Now you’ve got ever­ything you wanted: non-smoking, all-you-can-fuck, no trans fats, margins for your pension provision, rooftop terraces with panoramic views!”, “Noble brands for everyone, stitched by children’s hands!”, “Income without working, garden parties with people you don’t even know!”, “Traffic calming!”, “Citizen par­ti­ci­pa­ti­on projects!”, “Coffee capsules!”, “You believed you could increase your capital without working!”

The truth weighs heavily. On his way back, Alexander knocks down his Life Guide, returns home, and flees into the marital bed. We hear Alexander’s “I love you,” answered by Anna’s “I love you.”

As is often the case in dystopias, what is missing matters as much as what is shown. The society of the future has stripped indi­vi­du­als of all aggres­si­on-of every rebellion against impo­si­ti­on, every attempt to reach for what is truly desired. Anyone who shows aggres­si­on sins against the optimum. Without giving form to one’s own wishes-without the risk of receiving a “no”-there can be no exchange, no shape, no rela­ti­ons­hip. Life-love-remains empty.

There is no chain of appeal against the Life Guidance agency; the indi­vi­du­al cannot contest its rulings. More decisive still: the collec­ti­ve has been abolished. Alexander has no friends, no col­leagues, no parish, no chamber, no union, no party-he belongs to the white upper middle class, but in truth he belongs nowhere. The political has been erased.

Work itself becomes invisible when ever­ything is sub­or­di­na­ted to work. Wherever the film shows working people – the spe­cu­la­tors, kin­der­gar­ten teachers, waiters, guards, psych­ia­trists, recep­tio­nists, coun­sellors – it always seems as if no one is actually working; ever­ything happens as if by itself. Work is deprived of any social reco­gni­ti­on; ever­ything con­flic­tu­al within it – every form of suffering through it – is made to disappear.

The employ­ment service of the future uses our dreams against us; it knows ever­ything, discovers our need to be aggres­si­ve as well as our wish to make repa­ra­ti­ons. We are not only good – the system exploits that. The fear that oedipal rivalry – seen in Alexander’s dream images: the son con­spi­ring with the mother against the father – and raging jealousy – a dream about the son suf­fo­ca­ting his newborn sibling – might get out of hand invites sub­mis­si­on. Estranged from our emotional lives, every action driven by affect produces nausea; in the dystopia, repre­sen­ta­ti­ves of the helping pro­fes­si­ons-the physician, the psych­ia­trist, the therapist, the Life Guide-become per­pe­tra­tors. They do not help us; they sustain the system.

The uncon­scious and its conflicts them­sel­ves generate the dis­po­si­ti­on – the defensive orga­ni­sa­ti­on – that capi­ta­lism can exploit. Those who rule (in heaven) have reason to laugh-for those who are subjected (in hell) want it that way! The optimum flatters indi­vi­du­al nar­cis­sism, shielding us from feelings such as depen­dence, envy, rage, hatred, and grief. As long as possible, a perfect life-then the plunge into nothingness.

The dystopian society is immune to indi­vi­du­al revolt: Alexander’s break-in at Life Guidance head­quar­ters and even his attempted murder are not punished but treated as if they had never happened. Alexander gets away with it because he chooses to go on living as though nothing had occurred. Indi­vi­du­al insight changes nothing-not even for one’s own life.

Ruth Mader’s film is hard work and it deserves its place in the history of work on film. The quality of its dystopia lies in the fact that its truth is so difficult to endure.

Günter Hefler works on issues of lifelong learning and adult deve­lo­p­ment in inter­na­tio­nal com­pa­ri­son at 3s in Vienna. Cinema is an espe­cial­ly important source of inspi­ra­ti­on for him.

[1] All trans­la­ti­ons by the author, not from English subtitles.

[2] The Karl-Marx-Hof—opened in 1930 with 748 housing units and extensive green spaces—is the largest con­ti­guous resi­den­ti­al complex in the world and the quint­essen­ti­al symbol of public housing in “Red Vienna”. https://www.visitingvienna.com/culture/karl-marx-hof/