kommissar rex - the guarantor of the law

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Kommissar RexThe guarantor of the law

jan jagodzinskiUniversity of Alberta

Brigitte HipflUniversity of Klagenfurt

A B S T R AC T Kommissar Rex is a long-running detective series that takes

place in the streets of Vienna and its surrounding areas, produced by the

Austrian public television network (ORF). It began in 1994 and is now in its

seventh season. We have attempted to analyze this series in terms of its

significance for the political and social situation in which Austria finds itself

today, with the influx of immigrants from the Balkan states and the

continuing degradation of Vienna as a center/broker of exchange between

east and west. We argue that the significance of the Kommissar Rex series lies

in dealing with the social symptoms that the Austrian public are

experiencing concerning its identity. Utilizing a Lacanian psychoanalytic

perspective, we argue that Rex’s ‘wild’, untamed side, that is beyond the law,

is put to use to reinstate the law and to ease current anxieties.

K E Y WO R D S Ausländer, detective series, German Shepherd, Lacan, law,psychoanalysis, Real

Series tourism: the ‘streets’ of Vienna

In and around Vienna it is not uncommon to see the Viennese out and

about walking their dogs, and equally common is seeing them eating in

restaurants and drinking in the coffee houses and bars with their dogs

lying faithfully at their sides, usually under tables or waiting patiently

leashed outside supermarkets and other restricted areas. One can even

see these family pets in large university lecture halls! Seldom do they

bark or make a ruckus, rather their obedience is a sign of good breeding

and manners. The exemplary and most beloved dog in all of Austria is

Kommissar Rex, a German Shepherd, who is the star of a detective series

with the same name. Kommissar Rex takes place in and occasionally

around Vienna’s most well-known locations. Indeed, the series is like

taking a tourist trip around the city itself: the episodes take place in

Copyright © 2002 SAGE PublicationsLondon, Thousand Oaks

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‘Heurige’ (restaurants serving new wine); in the Haas-Haus (the recently

restructured house opposite St Stephansturm); in the famous Schloß

Schönbrunn, the summer palace of the Habsburg family; in the

Zentralfriedhof (Central Cemetery) where Beethoven’s grave can be

found; in the Donauauen (a natural preserve along the Danube River), a

part of which is a nudist haven; in Vienna’s International airport near the

Schwechat oil refineries; in the city’s canal system with its thousands of

kilometers of labyrinthian tunnels; at the Naschmarkt (food market), the

heart of Vienna’s ethnic congruence; in the Naturhistorische Museum,

famous for its taxidermy collection; in Vienna’s red-light district; at the

Prater, Vienna’s permanent amusement park; and in other various

numbered districts (‘Bezirke’) which are conspicuously mentioned during

various episodes. The city’s highlights provide an immediate geo-

graphical identification for a broad section of its Austrian viewers. With

each episode there is the added satisfaction of guessing where the

narrative is taking place, as well as an immediate pride in the display of

the nation’s capital.

The quintessentialness of Vienna is symbolized by the series’ opening

credits and the catchy song which integrates Rex and the main

characters into this milieu. The song, which is sung in English,

introduces just a hint of American television marketing ingenuity and

spectacularity through its hyped lyrics that directly appeal to younger

viewers. English, while being necessary for both tourism and business, is

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Figure 1. © Ali Schafler. Reproduced with kind permission



: K O M M I S S A R R E X

also the second language of choice for many Austrians, given that it is a

necessary part of the school curriculum. This association adds a

‘cosmopolitan’ feeling to the series. The opening credits begin at the

heart of the city. First we see an overview of St Stephen’s Cathedral – the

very hub of Vienna’s first district where tourists flock the pavements,

cafes, boutiques and restaurants – followed by a slow motion shot of Rex

jumping through a window, shattering the glass, and then joining his

‘master’s’ side, inspector (Kommissar) Richard (‘Richie’) Moser (Tobias

Moretti), who is crouching, poised with his gun aimed. The Ferris Wheel

(‘Riesenrad’), a featured ride at the Prater, emerges from the

background. We are then introduced to Moser’s team: his assistants Ernst

Stockinger (‘Stocki’, played by Karl Markovics) and Peter Höllerer (Wolf

Bachofner). Stocki’s relationship to Rex is adumbrated by a small scene

where he is about to eat a ‘Wurstsemmel’ (the Austrian equivalent of a

North American hamburger) which Rex wants. Rex barks, startling

Stocki into tossing the Wurstsemmel over his shoulder where his

colleague Peter Höllerer unfortunately is also unable to grab it, so it falls

into the awaiting jaws of Rex. (Stocki’s ambivalent relationship with Rex

eventually changes in the second series, but in this opening scene it is

maintained.) This scene is followed immediately by another well-known

Viennese monument, the Opera house, and fades into a blooded knife

held by the state’s forensic examiner Dr Leo Graf (Gerhard Zemann). Dr

Graf appears in each episode, briefly explaining to Moser the details of

how the murder has been committed, the instruments used and any clues

that would help with the investigation.

Another established Viennese monument is then shown, the

‘Künstlerhaus’ of the Viennese Secession movement with its golden

dome, followed by another small scene of Max Koch (Fritz Muliar),

Moser’s former chief and mentor (now retired), playing billiards with

Rex. Max Koch acts as a confidant and fatherly advisor to Moser. His

relationship with Rex appears to be on an equal basis: in the logical game

of billiards Rex is shown using his ‘nose’ as a pool cue to hit back a red

ball. The two scenes that follow equally adumbrate the ambivalent

relationship Rex has with inspector Moser, i.e. who ‘masters’ who? Moser,

in a classic detective posture, is peering around a corner with his gun

drawn. Rex barks. Moser turns around and signals Rex to be quiet by

putting his finger to his lips. Rex disregards the signal and leaps,

springing over Moser’s shoulder, causing him to misfire a round of shots

into the dark. The misfired shots leave a trail of holes against a darkened

background, like clues with light shining through them. The camera

then focuses and moves in toward one of these holes, dissolving the scene

into one where Rex has sprung up on to Moser’s shoulders and is shown

licking his face. Moser, with obvious joy and warmth, is pushed back

laughing. The centrality of Rex is further emphasized by the series’ song,

which has been playing all along. Its lyrics establish Rex’s heroism, 71

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reliance and trustful friendship.1 At the end of the credits, the series’ title

appears: kommissar is written in red lower-case letters and underneath

Rex is capitalized in black, possibly referring symbolically to the blood

and death that pervades the series. Rex’s pawprint appears in the corner

to further ‘stamp’ the series with his identity.

Not surprisingly, all the characters are Austrian: Fritz Muliar (Max

Koch) is an especially well-known and established character actor of

stage, film and television, while Moretti’s (Moser) growing film and

television career has made him a familiar face in the television and

movie tabloids. Ironically, it is Rex who is the exception here. Having

been bred in Bavaria, he is German! No matter. The ‘Austrianness’ of

Kommissar Rex was firmly established by the pilot film ‘Kommissar Rex:

Endstation Wien’ (Final Destination Vienna), which aired in early

November 1994. It already featured the above-mentioned opening credits

which establish the series. The pilot’s narrative, predictably, also begins

in the very heart of Vienna at the Haas-Haus opposite St Stephen’s

Cathedral. In the opening scene an explosion takes place in its restaurant

killing an important Russian minister of trade. As it turns out, he was

involved in an illegal business with another company in Vienna with the

help of a corrupt Austrian government official. For viewers ‘in the know’,

the cultural markers of Austria are sighted/cited/sited immediately. The

Russian minister orders ‘Sachertorte’ and coffee both with ‘Schlag’

(Austrian slang for whipped cream). The ‘Sacher’ where this famous and

expensive cake is made is also given a brief spot. In this episode we are

introduced to the entire mainstay of characters in the series. Rex is

sympathetically presented to the viewers as a police dog whose master

has been killed by the Russian minister’s assassin in the opening scene.

Without a master, viewers are told, most German Shepherd police dogs

are put to sleep since they refuse to eat or drink, eventually dying of

starvation. In other words, they die from ‘a broken heart’, so strong is

their bond to their master.

Richie Moser also has a broken heart. He is recently divorced. The

removal of all the furniture from his apartment by his ex-wife is the ‘last

straw’ of their marriage. It is finally over. Viewers are informed that most

policeman are soon divorced – a hazard that comes with the job; as

viewers we need not look down on Richie. So the ‘two broken hearts’

eventually find one another. It is ‘love’ at first sight as Rex eventually

comes out of his depression (and Moser gets over his divorce), and the

two are united as one. Each fills the missing space of the loss of the other.

The case of the Russian minister is eventually solved due to Rex’s own

initiatives. He goes to work independently of Moser’s commands. Often

Moser is shown looking and calling for him since Rex seems to have a

mind of his own. Moser, throughout the series, will incessantly repeat:

‘What is it Rex?’, ‘What have you found?’, not to mention ‘Good, Rex.’

Unlike Rex’s relationship with his former master, which was one of

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obvious obedience, Rex has learnt something from the tragedy. He has

‘picked’ his master and has done so on his own terms. From here on, he is

on more than equal grounds with Moser – an inspector with top billing.

Viewers are told he was the smartest dog in the academy.

The ‘kennel’ club

Kommissar Rex has been a widely and ‘wildly’ successful series in

Austria. The interest in German Shepherds and the desire to have one as

a pet have dramatically increased in both adults and kids alike.2 On the

ORF (Austria Broadcasting Company) program ‘Wer will mich?’ (Who

Wants Me?), which features unwanted, lost or abandoned pets looking for

homes, you can be sure that at least one dog will be named Rex. A

perhaps unrelated news report (ORF, 10 August 1997) – but it makes one

wonder nevertheless – informs Austrians that there are ‘too many’

students studying to be veterinarians. There are not enough places for

them all! More than a million stuffed animals of Rex have been sold,

while pictures of the series in Austrian television magazines appear

constantly.3 Even paraphernalia like Rex dog collars and Rex doormats

have sold well, while Moretti’s (Moser) recent marriage was important

enough to make the front page of several Austrian newspapers!

A joint production of ORF and SAT 1 (one of the three biggest private

channels in Germany),4 Kommissar Rex is now into its seventh season.

The first series began in November 1994 with 13 episodes and the above-

mentioned pilot film. The first series was the most successful television

series on ORF in 1995; broadcast every Thursday, it had a peak of 1.8

million Austrian viewers, capturing 61 percent of the market. ORF

media research (1995–1997) further shows that over these three years,

more than one million viewers consistently watched each episode. (These

numbers obviously drop when it comes to series repeats.) The same

report compared Austrian viewers watching other well-established

German detective series (Derrick, Ein Fall für Zwei, Der Alte) aired on

Fridays at primetime and found that they too had around one million

viewers.5 Such a comparison showed that Kommissar Rex had ‘made it’ as

a detective series. Apparently, four million Germans now watch the series

on a regular basis and it is broadcast in 17 other countries. Placed within

the European context, the competition for television viewers has been

enhanced through such national productions. German- and Austrian-

produced series are able to successfully compete against American

imports since there is a direct appeal to their nation’s identity.

For four years, the Thursday primetime spot of 20:15 continued with

ORF 1 and SAT 1 alternating and then repeating the same episodes

weekly. Most of these episodes have now been rebroadcast. In the first

series, inspector Moser was represented as a much more authoritarian

figure than in later series. He was often shown as less of a team player, 73

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more likely to be upset, treating Stocki as an underling, while Höllerer

remained, more or less, unobtrusively in the background. But, as Moser’s

character developed, he became much more generous and willing to

share the investigation of the crime with them. One might assume that

this change was brought on by ‘inspector’ Rex, given that the full weight

of Moser having to solve the crime had been narratively relieved. His

three-piece gray suit, however, followed him from one series to another.

Stockinger’s character also grew as the series progressed. Rex’s

domination and Stocki’s fear of him gradually eroded to the point where

a friendship became established. Karl Markovics’s cabaret background

enabled him to develop Stockinger’s ‘droll’ humor, sometimes playing

Moser’s ‘straight’ man as the upholder of the law, enabling Moser, on

occasion, to have a much softer edge about him, comparatively speaking.

As a believer in the righteousness of the law (his first name, Ernst, means

serious and straight-faced), Stockinger’s uneasiness and often suspicious

nature when it came to dealing with suspects presented him as a rather

distant character whose emotional attachment always remained

ambivalent. However, so successful was Stocki’s character that he left at

the end of the second series (‘Stocki’s letzter Fall’ [Stocki’s Last Case]) to

develop a spin-off detective series called ‘Stockinger’, which takes place

in one of Austria’s well-known country locations, Salzkammergut. The

reason: his wife had inherited a dental practice there from her father.

Stockinger was then replaced by Christian Böck (Heinz Weixelbraun)

for the third series (1997), who continues to date. Böck’s character both

sharpened and exaggerated some of the dimensions Stockinger left

behind. Böck’s relationship with Rex is one where he continually tests

Rex’s abilities and intelligence, only to lose most of the time. Stocki’s

ambivalent character was also replaced by a new ambivalency: Böck’s

character displays two sides – a slapstick-like humor to lighten the series

a little, as well as coming across as being both analytical and civil. His

relationship to Moser is one of admiration and friendship – like a

father–son relationship – which was not the case with Stockinger, who

displayed moments of jealousy for always being placed second best in

relation to the two ‘Kommissars’.

Höllerer’s character remained largely undeveloped throughout the

three series. Indeed, the narrative’s structure provided little room for

maneuverability for Wolf Bachofner. Representing the solid investigative

groundwork required to collect background information to solve a crime,

Höllerer remains the steadfast worker and staunch backbone of the

office. Both literally and figuratively speaking, Höllerer’s overweight

body, with its protruding and prominent ‘Bauch’ (potbelly), represents

the fundamental toil essential to support the investigative structure. A bit

ragged around the edges and frumpily dressed (his trouser suspenders

are perhaps his symbolic trademark), viewers often see him reporting

information to Moser, telephoning and checking out leads, and often

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doing surveillance work. Höllerer represents the ‘average’ Austrian male

citizen, i.e. the ‘everyman’ whose identity is represented by a thankless

and often unrecognized job. Is it accidental that the ‘Hölle’ in his

surname means ‘hell’ in German? Höllerer’s passion for bodily needs,

exemplified by his constant craving for food and drink, represents the

sheer physicality and neverending toil of his job. Yet his sensitivity, even

temper, compassion and quiet fortitude of character are the very

assurances that such drudgery gets done. Stocki and Höllerer are, more

or less, on an equal basis in the hierarchy. Their bodily contrasts are like

Laurel and Hardy: Stocki is thin and frail, while Höllerer is big and fat.

However, there is a clear separation between them and Moser. When

Moser glares they often quit their laughing, which is not to say that

Moser doesn’t laugh at their pranks, e.g. Stocki is always ‘stealing’

Moser’s snacks from his desk.

Aiding Moser’s investigative work are two other figures who make a

regular appearance in each episode, but for different reasons.

Prominently featured, usually at the scene of the crime or in his forensic

laboratory, is Dr Graf (Gerhard Zemann) who exhibits a rather

ambiguous, nonchalant attitude and glee towards the mangled and shot

corpses that he investigates. His joy comes from presenting to Moser the

results of his own skill and scientific reasoning as to how the body has

been mutilated. Graf represents the authority of the scientist able to

relate the clues to previous similar cases. Likewise in the background is

Max Koch (Fritz Muliar), another figure of authority who has ‘seen it

all’. Koch represents a father–son relationship to Moser, providing him

with fatherly advice and relating similar incidents he himself has

investigated.

Moser’s appeal to female viewers rested on his relative good looks and

charming manner. Throughout the series, Moser’s (Moretti’s) body is

shown in various states of undress: in bed, taking a shower, shirt open and

occasionally nude. Playing a recently divorced single male, Moser still

appears open to a romantic relationship. Such an ‘opening’, however, is

continually postponed and delayed by Rex’s jealousy and envy. Rex’s

need to dominate all his master’s time and energy is successfully used in

the narrative’s structure to intervene in all such likely developing

romances, preserving the image of a ‘lonely hero’, engaging himself with

the ‘scum’ of society in order to fight evil. The intervention of a feminine

force, which would blind the hero to justice, is quickly circumvented by

Rex’s intuitive instinct. Moser devotes all of his time to the law.

Narratively speaking, his divorce both opens and closes the door to his

love life. The hazards of the job provide no time for any long-term

female relationships. Short encounters are equally guarded against by

Rex. To ensure such an impossibility, only the character of Dr Sonja

Koller, a veterinarian, was developed in the second series as a love

interest. However, according to one of the scriptwriters, women viewers 75

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did not want Moser to have a permanent partner, so Dr Koller was

written out. In ‘Tödliche Dosis’ (Deadly Dose – series 2, episode 12) she

leaves for the US to take another position (but only for six months in

order that she can ‘narratively’ return), having been unable to talk over

her decision with Moser because of his workaholism. Such an

impossibility of love keeps open a fantasy space for female viewers’ own

love interests as Moser remains perpetually available for a relationship.

Fanclub contests include the usual dinner with the star. In a survey

conducted by tv media (31 July 1996), Moretti was voted the most erotic

television star in Austria in 1996. However, after the third series there

was talk that Moretti wanted to leave the series. In the meantime he had

become successful in a feature-length film Workaholic (an added irony!),

claiming that he wanted to return to the stage and also to continue his

film career. But perhaps another reason was his eventual marriage to his

longstanding partner and sweetheart Julia Wilhelm, which took place on

8 August 1997. A married Moretti/Moser provides the single female

viewer with less potential for fantasy.

Will the ‘real’ star of the show please bark

Rex, however, is the real star of the show as his Latin name indicates:

king. A German Shepherd bred in Bavaria and trained in the United

States,6 he sports a noble name: Reginald von Ravenhorst. So why is Rex

the ‘real’ star of the series? To develop some tentative answers we need to

examine structurally just what Rex’s broader social duty has been, but

first we need to describe Rex’s screen appearances. Generally speaking,

he performs regularly in three narrative spots during any given episode:

the beginning, the middle and the end. While Rex is almost always by

Moser’s side, it is in these three performative spots that Rex is high-

lighted and an episode comes to a successful conclusion with the perpe-

trator being caught, shot or arrested. The beginning spot establishes

Rex’s developing companionship in Moser’s private life. Moser is often

shown ‘housebound’, either showering, having breakfast, lying in bed,

moving home or working on his house. Rex’s ‘human’ or domesticated

side is given full play during this spot. Rex’s tricks depict his most

endearing side, providing maximum bonding with viewers. Rex often

wants to have Moser play with him, e.g. to toss a ball or a frisbee. Moser

almost always begrudgingly complies with this request, accepting the

disturbance of his sleep or his commitment to a case. Rex’s domestication

is further enhanced by doing chores for his master: shopping for him (he

usually brings his breakfast [‘Gebäck’] to him from a local bakery);

bringing Moser his mobile telephone when it rings, and his shoes;

opening the door for visitors; fetching the post, etc. In short, Moser and

Rex are like two bachelors living together with an odd twist in their

relationship: namely, Rex represents Moser’s absent female companion.

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In the middle spot of the narrative, Rex’s appearance establishes his

working relationship with Moser on a case. In the police department

Rex’s playthings are often found conspicuously lying on the floor.

Sometimes he is shown playing with them, but most often closeups of his

face are shown when a case is being discussed. Here it seems that he

really understands what is going on and can make sense of the

conversation through the constant shifts of his head from side to side,

with added growls, murmurs and barks. After the customary mobile

telephone call to Moser’s home at the beginning of an episode by Stocki

or Höllerer (police mobility being featured here), Moser brings him to

the scene of the crime where Rex goes to work of his own volition,

sniffing and checking out the trail left by the criminal, sometimes

uncovering a clue for which he is rewarded by Moser’s praise and touch.

Rex’s independence as a ‘Kommissar’ with a duty to do is firmly

established. Again, it is an example of Rex’s cleverness. For example, in

‘Tod im Museum’ (Death in the Museum – series 3, episode 3), Rex

places himself among the stuffed animals in Vienna’s Natural History

Museum to apprehend the criminal.

The last spot is the logical conclusion to Rex’s previous training. It is

where the ‘animal’ in him is allowed to shine and the reputation of the

police dog is once more enhanced and confirmed. Here slow motion shots

fetishize Rex in pursuit of a fleeing criminal, jumping over walls and

fences, dashing through water and biting a criminal’s hand so that the

weapon is dropped. Often Rex’s jumps are spectacularized by making

them seem longer and further than they actually are by editing out the

viewers’ over-the-head shot. Only Rex’s initial leap and then his landing

are shown, making it appear that a great distance has been traversed.

Closeups show him growling and gnashing his teeth; his canine teeth are

now fully exposed. When this happens it is usual for the camera to take

up the criminal’s point of view to spectacularize the effect. Headshots are

used to give the impression that Rex understands what is being said – his

face tilts from side to side as a sign of both recognition as well as inquiry.

More often, however, medium shots show the viewers Rex in action.

Rare are those shots which actually show Rex’s point of view. These shots

are reserved for when Rex is ‘caged in’, so that viewers can sympathize

with his position. In short, all the possible cliches one can imagine a

police dog doing are shown. At the end we always see Rex’s

domestication restored as Moser calls him off and pets him while Rex

licks him in return. The narrative unambiguously represents ‘good’ as

Rex’s domestication and the law, while ‘evil’ can only be combated by an

equal ‘evilness’ (wildness) of the animal which, in this case, is in the

service of the law and under male control.

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Kommissar Rex as a detective series: adhering to theletter of the law

The above descriptive analysis presents some of the more obvious

features about the series’ characters and narration. We would like now to

consider the series with reference to other detective genres, and then

provide a reading which positions this particular series as a reaffirmation

of patriarchal law whereby current paranoid, Austrian middle-class

anxieties are relieved and its established values preserved. The detective

novel, as several writers have observed (Palmer, 1991; Zizek, 1991), in

the classical sense, requires the structural necessity of a Watson in the

case of Sherlock Holmes, or a Hastings in the case of Agatha Christie’s

Poirot, to act as representatives of general public opinion. They read the

scene of the crime as the murderer intends in his/her cover-up, i.e. in its

‘obviousness’. The detective’s task is, therefore, to devote attention to the

details that are abstracted from the scene of the crime so that the final

truth becomes the inverse of the false structure left by the criminal. The

subject position of the classical detective novel provides the reader with

an unknown and an anxiety as to ‘whodunnit’, which is then solved by

the logical brilliance of the detective. The reader is kept guessing until

the very end as the more obvious suspects are exonerated of the crime.

With Kommissar Rex this classical structure is laid bare, so to speak, so

that all such anxieties of being led in the wrong direction are almost

immediately relieved since viewers know that eventually Rex will get his

man. A Watson or a Hastings are structurally unnecessary since there is

no need to present a ‘false’ or blind reading of the clues, for the

narrative’s structure almost invariably presents viewers with the crime,

although the perpetrator often remains a mystery. It is the way the clues

are presented to the viewers that provides the assurance that the law will

eventually be upheld. Essentially two levels of clues are made manifest:

the first order of clues enable viewers to trust the investigative powers of

forensic medicine. Dr Graf provides scientific explanations as to the

manner of the killing; the description of the murder weapon, the way it

may have been used, the type of poison employed, ascertaining whether

the cause of death was indeed suicide or was it in fact murder. Estimating

the elapsed time of death of the body, so as to determine when the

murder took place, seems to be a regular feature of Dr Graf’s job. These

clues match what has already been presented to viewers in the opening

scenes. The murder weapon is prominently featured, for example. The

second order of clues are the most important for they act as the

inescapable second assurance that the criminal will be caught. Only

Rex is able to ‘sniff out’ these clues. They stand outside the ‘normal’

and ‘instrumental’ ways of knowing. Here is an animal who is given

the attributive power of ‘knowing’. We shall return to explaining why

this is so.

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Moser is presented as always being consistent and correct within the

law. He maintains his distance and involvement with the criminal

element. Unlike the hardboiled detective, where violence is often used to

gain information and to squeeze out a confession, Moser is rarely shown

making violent contact with a criminal. He remains firmly in control of

his emotions, even during the height of the unfolding drama. If he does

use his gun, it is only when the law is firmly behind him. There is an

important social reason as to why Moser comes across as adhering so

staunchly to the letter of the law. Namely, the Viennese police have the

reputation of being too harsh and of overstepping human rights, so much

so that Amnesty International has blacklisted them. Moser therefore

presents the most positive image that can be mustered to change public

opinion over a justice system which is extremely strict (jail sentences and

the waiting time to have cases heard are often unreasonable). This is

dramatically illustrated in ‘Gefährliche Jagd’ (Dangerous Pursuit – series

2, episode 7), the only episode in which viewers find out that Moser has

made a mistake earlier in his career. As a young detective, he needlessly

shot Erich Fuchs in the knee, a former colleague in the police academy

who had turned to crime. Having to face this repressed incident, Moser is

willing to pay for his former ‘mistake’ with his life by facing Fuchs

unarmed, his gun out of his immediate reach. In the dramatic shootout

that follows, Moser ends up wounded but victorious.

Kommissar Rex’s ‘relief’ work: dealing with the Real

With Kommissar Rex, the classical structure of the detective story is,

therefore, maintained, with the added feature that it is a dog rather than

a detective who holds the key to restoring order. In a classical structure

there is a traumatic shock to the symbolic order, i.e. a murder, a killing, a

rape, or something is stolen, which disrupts the normality of things.

There is an interruption by an unexplained and unnarratable event. In

psychoanalytic terms, the Real interrupts the symbolic order whereby,

from that moment on, ordinary events take on a sense of

extraordinariness and threatening interpretations.7 This is followed by a

narrative that encircles this initial disruption wherein the detective

attempts to reconstruct what had happened. In the Kommissar Rex series,

quite often the idea of a serial crime is used to make evident this

reconstruction. In this way, the narrative closes in on itself when the

beginning is reached at the end. Viewers, like the detective, are now able

to understand what had really happened. The entire point of this

detective series is therefore to show how the ‘impossible’ becomes

‘possible’, i.e. to resymbolize the opening traumatic shock and then to

reintegrate it into the symbolic reality so that it is explained away. ‘The

very presence of the detective guarantees in advance the transformation

of the lawless sequence into a lawful sequence; in other words, the re- 79

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establishment of “normality” ’ (Zizek, 1991: 58). If this structure fails in

its explanatory function, viewers are disappointed since unanswered

questions remain, as for example in ‘Der Erste Preis’ (First Prize – series

1, episode 10), in which the motive for the killing of two young (preteen)

girls by a performance pianist is left unanswered. The narrative was

unable to do its ‘job’ of confronting the reality of a psychotic killer,

leaving viewers relieved that he was eventually arrested but uncertain if

anything could be done about preventing such a crime from repeating

itself. Given that it was a single working mother whose preteen daughter

was killed, this suggests that it was the mother who may have been

negligent, the implication being that she was not at home but at work

and impossible to reach when her daughter needed her. The conservative

overtones of such a reading here are consistent with the series in general.

The values of the family unit (married parents with children) blend well

with having a family pet: Rex.

These anxiety-relieving measures of the series are especially evident

in the themes chosen, which read like the sensational newspaper

headlines found in both Austrian and German newspapers alike (e.g.

Kleine Zeitung, Kronenzeitung, Bildzeitung). ‘Ein mörderischer Sommer’

(A Murderous Summer – series 2, episode 3) is about the killing of young

adult lovers in the Donauauen, specifically in Lobau, in the FKK area

where nudity is permitted. This episode, which featured both Moser and

a young attractive policewoman posing as lovers in the nude, was

broadcast a record four times. The idea that voyeurism and a psychotic

stalker are ever-present dangers in the Donauauen is a real concern for

many Viennese citizens. The Donauauen is the nudist spot for relaxing

and sunbathing. It is a meeting ground for all social classes where ‘sexual

freedom’ and the city’s ordinance that allows overnight camping provide

an opportunity for the occurrence of all sorts of sex crimes, from rape to

murder. The episode’s moral overtones are open to the same ambivalent

reading mentioned above. On the one hand, the film presents its female

viewers with a voyeuristic look at Moretti’s/Moser’s ‘butt’, and its male

viewers with the frontal nudity of the policewoman, yet, at the same

time, it sends out a message of caution about overnight camping and

sexual antics. The public nudity and sexual pleasure associated with the

Donauauen remain a concern and a point of controversy with the more

conservative strata of Viennese society.

It should be noted that a high percentage of these crimes present

viewers with spectacularized effects of especially gruesome acts of

murder: necks are cut, heads are bludgeoned, bodies are cut up,

strangled, drowned, and even organs are removed. Kidnapping and

shooting, as more distanced effects, are often reserved for industrial

blackmail and political intrigue. The very physicality of these acts brings

the crime closer to the viewers, enabling a closer identification with the

crime itself. These mangled bodies are presented to the viewers usually

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through ‘glanced’ closeup views. In Dr Graf’s laboratory Moser usually

looks (and grimaces) at the body by lifting the sheet spread over it. How-

ever, the body’s protuberances, its arms and legs, are almost always visible

with the usual splatters of blood, scars and other clues (e.g. tattoos).

It is the fantasies of the scriptwriters of the series, Peter Hajek (also its

producer) and Peter Moser, which have been able to capture the

imagination of Austrians through their ability to identify the sources of

their anxieties and then to have them successfully produced. Death by

poisoning seems to be a recurring paranoia in some episodes: ‘Stadt in

Angst’ (City in Fear – series 3, episode 2) presents murder by poisoned

soft drink cans; in ‘Mord à la Carte’ (series 3, episode 11) it is a wine

merchant who is poisoned after tasting (what else!) wine. In Germany,

for instance, there was a case of poison being put in Thomy mayonnaise

by blackmailers (Kleine Zeitung, 14 August 1997: 26–7). Murder by

strangling (‘Duft des Todes’ [The Smell of Death – series 2, episode 10])

and drowning (‘Tod eines Kindes’ [The Death of a Child – series 1,

episode 8]) are also featured, while the link between sex and death is a

mainstay which repeats itself in several episodes: jealous lovers and

domestic squabbles result in tragedy (e.g. ‘Der Maskierte Tod’ [A Masked

Death – series 2, episode 5]; ‘Warum Starb Romeo?’ [Why Did Romeo

Die? – series 3, episode 9]). In ‘Stocki’s letzter Fall’ (Stocki’s Last Case –

series 2, episode 15), it is a divorced father who goes on a killing rampage

because his wife and daughter have left him. Jobless and bitter, he kills

all those who he felt were responsible for his situation. In the last few

years, such incidents of mass murder by outraged men whose families

have left them have occurred more and more in Austrian newspapers.

Suicide is usually the end result. In ‘Unter Hypnoses’ (Under Hypnosis –

series 3, episode 7), the powers of an esoteric ‘Guru’ are featured. The

illicit use of drugs also receives attention. In ‘Tödliche Dosis’ (Deadly

Dose – series 2, episode 12), a professor is killed while working on an

experimental drug, while in ‘Anna’s Geheimnis’ (Anna’s Secret – series 3,

episode 5) the state attorney’s daughter dies of a heroin overdose. Fears

concerning the transportation of dangerous waste material also receive

attention (‘Die blinde Zeugin’ [The Blind Witness – series 2, episode 6]).

Such fears are not without foundation: in July of 1997 there were protests

throughout Austria and Germany over the transportation of radioactive

material by trucks overland from Italy, through Austria into Germany, so

that the waste could be shipped to the US. The inadequacies of motorists

not being forewarned of the risk involved was simply one of the many

concerns voiced by Green Party representatives.

The ‘Ausländer’ report: a cover-up?

This sampling of social anxieties in Kommissar Rex provides a way that

the social order can deal with what Lacan called the Real, i.e. the 81

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traumas and uncertainties that can never be completely controlled or

disciplined by the law. In order to maintain the stability of the social

order, it becomes more and more necessary to spectacularize the law ‘at

work’ doing its daily job, reassuring its citizens that all is under control.

In the postmodern situation, faith in the institution of the law has been

eroding. Before the fall of the iron curtain, Vienna was the furthest

western city where agents from both east and west met. It had the

reputation of being a ‘port’ to eastern Europe where many business deals

were brokered. This is possibly one explanation as to why there is a

‘Russian’ element throughout the series, but there is yet another more

interesting possibility which we will momentarily explain. Today, in the

aftermath of Yugoslavia’s civil war, Romania’s ‘revolution’, the fall of the

Berlin Wall and the opening of eastern Europe, Vienna has become

inundated with refugees and diasporic immigration. With an earlier

history of ‘Gastarbeiter’ from Turkey and former Yugoslavia, Vienna

stands for the concerns of intercultural communication, a testing zone for

inter-ethnic conflicts. The threat to what is an Austrian ‘identity’ is made

evident by parents protesting that schools no longer have enough time to

teach the German language properly because time is spent catering to

children from ‘foreign’ lands. Letter bombs have been sent to television

personalities, city officials and private citizens who are known for their

sympathy and tolerance toward this changing situation and for their

actions to support refugees. Helmut Zilk, the well-known and well-liked

former mayor of Vienna, lost two fingers from such an incident.

In addition to this volatile climate, there is a general perception that

crimes are committed by these immigrants (‘Ausländer’). The Poles, for a

brief time, for instance, had a particularly bad reputation for stealing

cars. The ambivalent feelings toward the ‘Ausländer’ are heightened by

the historical exchange of cultures that has always taken place in Vienna

– i.e. within the Austro-Hungarian Empire where the German tradition

claimed dominance – as well as by recent social action undertaken by

Caritas, the so-called ‘Nachbar in Not’ (Neighbors in Need), who

organized many hundreds of truckloads of food, seeds, prefabricated

houses and clothing to be sent to various regions throughout former

Yugoslavia at great cost and danger. While such a program of aid

obviously presents the generous and caring face of Austrian citizens, it

also sends out a conflicting message that this aid was meant to help

devastated citizens to rebuild their lives in their own country. Money was

also given to those refugees who were willing to go back to their

homelands to start their lives over again. There are, however, no easy

solutions to the refugee problem, given that they must help themselves

first rather than seek asylum in other countries as if all their problems

would then somehow be magically resolved.

Vienna, on the whole, presents many facets of the postmodern concern

with identity, where there are no easy solutions nor answers. A ‘uni-

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bomber’, articulating nationalistic, right-wing positions, was finally

arrested after exerting terrorist pressure by bombing incidents which

took place between 1994–1998, the very years the series began its

broadcasts, and the percentage of the popular vote for the right-wing

party FPÖ (Freiheitliche Partei Österreichs) has been slowly increasing

in the last several years to the point where, in 2000, they formed a

coalition with the conservative ÖVP (Österreichische Vollspartei), causing

the European Union to initiate sanctions against Austria (which have

since been dropped). Given this social background, the Kommissar Rexseries provides an especially paradigmatic illustration as to how the

fantasy of Austrian identity is maintained during such a difficult period.

In the three years of the series, the problematic question of the

‘Ausländer’ has only been given ‘mild’ treatment. It is not a strongly

developed theme, although news items concerning the illegal trans-

portation of refugees into Austria continue to be a recurring presence.

There is no ‘relief ’ work being carried out here. Rather the exploitation

of the ‘Ausländer’ is spectacularized to make the point that their interests

are served by the law.

The second episode of the first series, ‘’Flucht in den Tod’ (Escape

Towards Death – series 1, episode 2) presents the only narrative

(produced early in the three years of its production) that explicitly deals

with this theme. Unsuspecting illegal immigrants are operated on by an

unscrupulous doctor who is part of a ring that sells the organs removed,

i.e. selling kidneys to rich purchasers in need of a transplant operation.

The ‘Ausländer’ are represented as being rather naive, trustworthy and

totally dependent on those who are trying to smuggle them into the

country. What may be more the case is the series’ displacement of the

‘Ausländer-problem’ onto the shoulder’s of the corrupt Russian mafia.

Given Vienna’s strategic geographical location and its banking policy of

strict privacy, it has had a history of Russian mafia moving in, after the

decentralization of the Soviet Union, to launder money through import/

export deals. As a result, several former Russian citizens (living in

Vienna) have been killed. ‘Drei Sekunden bis zum Tod’ (Three Seconds

to Death – series 2, episode 13) involves an incident at the Naschmarkt, a

place where various ethnic foods, spices and goods are bought, bartered

and traded. The episode featured a Russian landlady who was

blackmailed. Like two bookends that hold together the recurring Russian

element in the background, it is a Russian assassin that both opens and

closes the first series (‘Schüsse auf Rex’ [Shots at Rex – series 1, episode

13]). The pilot film informs its viewers that Moser grew up in a Viennese

Russian community. He is befriended by an old neighborhood friend, a

Russian small storeowner. Such associations certainly do no damage to

engendering the reputation that Moser stands for justice for all,

including the ‘Ausländer’. It is this curious reoccurrence of a corrupt

Russian presence indirectly pointing to the ambivalent status of the 83

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‘Ausländer’ which is able to successfully avoid developing the full force of

the increasing anxieties over the continual trickle of eastern Europeans

into Austria, a situation that has been successfully exploited by the FPÖ,

the right-wing party of Jörg Haider (currently led by Susanne Riess-

Passer), whose history of nationalistic policies and racist overtones are

known throughout Austria and Europe.

Kommissar Rex’s ‘Dienst’

To come back to the question we asked earlier, ‘why a dog?’, one possible

answer is intrinsically connected to the social backdrop of the series we

have described. Rex does more than double duty here as we will explain.

Bred in 1899 by a German military cavalry captain, Max Emil Friedrich

von Stefanitz, whose strict control of the dog’s color and form – along

with its accompanying character traits of being highly disciplined,

faithful, tenacious and fierce – quickly earned the German Shepherd a

reputation as a working dog around the world. Its breed, in turn,

symbolized the German work ethic of precision and orderliness. The

Prussian military eventually wanted to breed the German Shepherd

with a wolf to further the myth that the fierceness, cunning and agility

of the breed could be enhanced by introducing the ‘wildness’ of the

wolf ’s blood and yet remain domesticated and controlled. Such a

militaristic idea came from an attempted association of the dog with the

ancient Germanic god Wotan, the god of war, who was said to be

accompanied by two wolves. This romanticization of the German

Shepherd with old Germanic myths was picked up during the rise of the

National Socialist Party in the 1930s when the German Shepherd

became a symbol of Germanic bravery, courage, discipline and fierceness.

It had, for a long time, a reputation forged during the Second World War

of guarding border crossings, concentration camps, and was almost

always synonymously associated with a German military uniform.

To erase and displace this history of the German Shepherds’ use for

military ends during Prussia’s dominance and the Second World War

may indeed be an unintended effect of this series, but the possibility

cannot be dismissed. It is no accident, for instance, that a televised

‘special’ on the German Shepherd was broadcast five days after the first

episode of the third series. ‘Rex, die Ganze Geschichte’ (Rex: The Whole

Story), a production of Universum which is a highly established and

valued documentary series about animals, presents the German

Shepherd’s usefulness foremost as a police dog for the Austrian police

and Gendarmerie. Rex’s first ‘televised’ duty, so to speak, is to disconnect

in the minds of its viewers any association with the ‘dark and evil’

mythic Germanic roots associated with the breed, and to emphasize its

heroic traits as a defender of the ‘good’. The song explicitly underlines

these traits in Rex (see Note 1 for the lyrics).

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The cliched phrase, ‘A dog is a man’s best friend’, exemplifies the

strong patriarchal current that runs throughout the entire series. For yet

another one of Rex’s duties is to stand both at the end and beyond this

hierarchical line which runs from one Kommissar to the next. Why

‘beyond’ will soon become apparent. The series presents viewers with a

constant repetition of the father–son relationship, the most obvious one

being between Koch and Moser. Koch always remains in the background

as Moser’s confidant, and we know he is often the source of fatherly

advice and helps Moser solve his cases. The same relationship is repeated

in the third series where Moser’s new assistant, Böck, plays the role of

Moser’s symbolic son given that Böck looks up to him. The relationship

between all of the males is one of apparent camaraderie rather than

rivalry, but a hierarchy is definitely in place. Who possesses the phallic

signifier only emerges during times of high dramatic stress and, when it

does, it is Moser, for the most part, who possesses it. He remains cool and

in control.8 Stocki and Höllerer occasionally act as comic relief; they

often wink at each other when it comes to Moser’s love life, for instance.

Moser, on the other hand, has to answer to the letter of the law which is

implicitly understood and never questioned or problematized in the

series. Its instances are articulated through each episode. That this is a

patriarchal law is made explicit by the way female characters are

featured throughout the three years. No women enter the ‘kennel club’ of

the police station. When a policewoman does appear in any significant

role (e.g. ‘Ein mörderischer Sommer’ [A Murderous Summer – series 2,

episode 3]) her body is used voyeuristically for both the viewers and the

narrative plot. Otherwise, policewomen are presented in covering shots

as a definite presence within Austria’s police force, but with no special

significance. They are placed there as background scenery to strengthen

a plot’s authenticity. The exposure of the breasts of attractive women

throughout the series is not uncommon. Other women are presented,

more or less, in currently established roles: housewives, single mothers,

love-struck girlfriends, store owners, jealous wives, and a single femmefatale (Tödliche Teddys’ [Deadly Teddys – series 1, episode 10]), who

inherited her father’s factory and fell into financial trouble. Dr Sonja

Koller, a veterinarian, is perhaps the closest the series gets to an

emancipated woman, her status and independence a necessary counter-

part to Moser. In this sense, the series breaks no new ground regarding

current feminist aspirations. Rather it confirms traditional sexual

stereotypes. Rex is left to fill in the missing ‘feminine’ desire in Moser’s

private life.

Rex’s last duty is a surprising one. Rex’s call beyond ‘double duty’ is to

restore faith in the faltering institution of the law by being ‘beyond’ it!

How? To reinsure the working of the law ‘in the last instance’ to a dog is

both necessary and ingenious during this sociohistorical moment because

it enables the mobilization of the same mythic traits that the German 85

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Shepherd has already historically established. But now these traits –

heroism, bravery, discipline – can be inversed, enabling Rex to do good

rather than evil. Rex becomes a ‘stopgap’ for the Real, for the unknown

traumas of the social order because the dog’s very ‘inhumanness’, its

‘wild instincts’ or ‘drives’, its very fierceness – which normally could

never be controlled by human hands – are now put to use to fight evil.

One might say that the dog’s humanly controlled evil is used to fight thehumanly uncontrollable evil of criminals. What makes Rex the guarantor

of the law is that viewers know that it is the breed’s ‘inhuman’ qualities

that are able to assure and guarantee the acclaimed ‘human’ ones;

‘human’ in this case being ideologically defined as the cherished Austrian

values of justice and order.

The dividing line as to where the ‘pet’ and the ‘wolf ’ in Rex meet

must be restated in each episode. Hence Stocki’s early wariness of Rex

was a reminder that not ‘all’ of Rex is domesticated. Rex’s mythic

independence, already established in the pilot film, suggests that he can

never be entirely domesticated. The undomesticated part makes him a

‘supercop’, and hence he stands outside the established system of police

investigative powers, i.e. beyond the law. Even the scientific forensic

rationalism of Dr Graf (which also includes access to the latest in

computer-assisted programs, e.g. ‘Über den Dächern von Wien’ [Over the

Roofs of Vienna – series 2, episode 14]) is not enough to ensure the

success of the law. This idea of Rex ‘standing outside’ the current state of

the art of criminal investigation is precisely the reason why the system isable to function in the first place.

In Hegelian terms, this is a totalization through an exception. Rex is

not just any police dog: he is a police dog of ultra intelligence, as well as

having an ‘inhuman’ instinct to sniff out criminal evil. This exceptional

status of Rex is further enhanced by the ‘fact’ that there are no Rex

doubles, nor are there Rex lookalikes being trained to continue the series.

Only Rex is capable of this role. It is, therefore, this ‘inhuman’ part,

strictly speaking, which – as a mysterious and uncanny element –

belongs to the Lacanian Real. It is what sets Rex apart from both humans

and other dogs alike in the first place. It is this very unknowable ‘thing’

which establishes the ‘myth’ of Rex, the very empty ‘thing’ which its

breeder Max Emil Friedrich von Stefanitz wanted to harness with the

god of war, Wotar. The combination of ultra intelligence plus the un-

fathomable element ‘X’ presents the fantasy of a never failing ‘super’

weapon to fight crime. What we have here is a believable, larger than life,

‘humanized’ animal that represents the ‘naturalized’ inverse of a similar

narrative, Robocop, where it is artificial and synthetic knowledge wedded

to the human brain that establishes the cyborgian supercop. The third

series, in which Böck is always testing Rex’s intelligence, merely confirms,

again and again, the importance of viewers perceiving the mythos of Rex

as an exception to the rule; to confirm the workings of the law.

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The comparison of the name Rex with the political position of a king

or monarch reconfirms the logic of the series. A king, like Rex, exists

outside the system of the state. The king exemplifies all that his citizens

strive to be, except that no-one can ever be like the king. As a ‘biological’

exception, his nature is unique, which gives him his symbolic mandate.

The king stands for the whole state and yet is apart from it. He

guarantees the order of the state because he is the order and the law of

the state. To be like him means that the state will operate smoothly

without chaos. In a similar logic, Kommissar Rex is the guarantor of the

law not because the dog is somehow the actual physical manifestation of

the law, but rather because Rex acts as a conduit and ‘spectre’ to the

impossible ‘once and for all’ articulation of the law. He stands for the

impossible harmony of Austrian society once all the criminal elements

have been eliminated – which, strictly speaking, is an impossibility. What

makes Kommissar Rex such a ‘wildly’ successful series is precisely the

fantasy that Rex’s ‘wild’ uncanniness could guarantee such harmony and

reinstate the law. Such a fantasy has been mobilized to anchor the law

during a time of postmodern anxiety in the nation’s capital, where the

disintegration of Austrian identity has been strongly felt. At least, that is

part of the conclusion of our analysis . . . . There are other parts.

Notes1. The text of the song goes as follows:

I see heroes without fear. See them wandering in the streets. Trying to

hide in dirty cages. Then you will see how it’s going to be when a dog

takes over control. We’ll be fighting to the end and that’s what I call a

good friend. I always understand that’s what I call a good friend.

[Refrain:] When a dog takes over control and will be fighting to the end.

Will always understand that’s what I call a good friend.

2. This statement needs to be qualified. Which dogs are desired as pets

depends on current trends in pet desirability. When Rex was at the height

of its popularity it indeed was the German Shepherd. One source we spoke

to told us that now it is Golden Retrievers. When Walt Disney’s film

Beethoven was first shown, the interest in St Bernards went up, as did the

desire to own a Dalmatian when Disney Studios produced a remake of the

classic 101 Dalmatians.3. To make profits from the marketing of the series seems to have become a

major policy. In response to our request to have several episodes sent to us

to further our research, we received a fax from Lore Frey, the director of

the program’s archives, that each tape would cost us 1000 Austrian

Schillings.

4. SAT 1 is owned by Leo Kirch, one of the German media moguls who has

bought up many American films and television series and distributes them

to the European market.

5. We would like to thank Mr Gartlgruber for providing this information 87

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from ORF Media Research, and Mr Tilbert Matzka of ORF’s public

relations department for sending us all the press releases over the series.

6. Rex’s trainer Teresa Ann Miller’s other credits include the training of the

pig in the feature film Babe and the St Bernards in the film Beethoven and

its sequel.

7. We are using the Lacanian sense of the Real here to identify a psychic

register of the unconscious which specifically relates to the limits of

knowledge. The Real in the Lacanian paradigm represents the

unexplainable and uncanny phenomena of ‘reality’ which are the

accidental (unpredictable) causes of our anxieties, since the current

symbolic order is unable to explain away such unpredictable events. The

phenomenon of ‘death’, for example, belongs to the psychic register of the

Real, since its explanation is impossible. In this regard, all detective stories,

in one form or other, are a response to the Real. The Symbolic Order, yet

another Lacanian conceptualization, represents the psychic order of the

instituted language and law, which offer rationalizations for the

unexplainable events of the Real. The Symbolic Order is mediated by an

Imaginary psychic register, in this case the spectacularized images of

Kommissar Rex.

8. We use the terms ‘phallic’ signifier to refer to the Lacanian paradigm

whereby the phallus remains unsignifiable, given its status as an

unattainable male transcendental signifier. It has to be made incarnate in

the Symbolic Order, and it is Moser who possesses it in this case. Ultimately,

however, it is Rex who represents the transcendence of the phallus as we

will explain.

ReferencesORF-Teletest (1997) Media Research Report (11 Aug.).

Palmer, Jerry (1991) ‘Crime Fiction: The Genre Dimension’, in Potboilers:Methods, Concepts and Case Studies in Popular Fiction. London and New York:

Routledge.

Kleine Zeitung (1997) ‘Deutschland in Panik vor vergiftetem Essen’ (14 Aug.)

26–7.

tv media (1996) ‘Die Erotik-Quote. Top-Ten des Sexappeals’ (27 July–2 Aug.)

31: 8–12.

tv media (1996) ‘Auf den Hund gekommen’ (26 Oct.–1 Nov.) 44: 24–9.

tv media (1997) ‘Morettis Abgang’ (12–15 June) 25: 14–20.

Zizek, Slavoj (1991) Looking Awry: An Introduction to Jacques Lacan throughPopular Culture (2nd edn). Cambridge, MA and London: MIT Press.

Biographical notesjan jagodzinski is a professor in the department of secondary education,

University of Alberta in Edmonton, Canada, where he teaches visual art

education and curricular issues as they relate to postmodern concerns of gender

politics, cultural studies and media (film and television). He is a founding

member of the Journal of Social Theory in Art Education and its current editor,

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and past president of SIG Media, Culture and Curriculum. His books include

Postmodern Dilemmas: Outrageous Essays in Art and Art Education (Erlbaum,

1997), The Anamorphic I/i (Duval, 1996), Pun(k) Deconstruction: ExperifiguralWriting in Art and Art Education (Erlbaum, 1997) and he is editor of

Pedagogical Desire: Transference, Seduction and the Question of Ethics(Greenwood Press, 2001). A D D R E S S : Department of Secondary Education,

University of Alberta, Room 341, Education South, Edmonton, Alberta, Canada

T6G 2G5. [email: [email protected]]

Brigitte Hipfl is a professor at the Institut für Medien- und Kommunikations-

wissenschaft, University of Klagenfurt, where she teaches both graduate and

undergraduate courses in media, culture and identity, gender issues and

research methodologies in media studies. Currently she is the chair of the

Austrian Society of Communication. Her books include Sündiger Genuß?Filmerfahrungen von Frauen (Hamburg: Argument, 1996, with Frigga Haug)

and Bewegte Identitäten – Medien in transkulturellen Kontexten (Klagenfurt

Drava, 2001, with Brigitta Busch and Kevin Robins). ADDRESS: Institut für

Medien- und Kommunikationswissenshaft, University of Klagenfurt

Universitätsstrasse 65–67, A-9020 Klagenfurt, Austria. [email:

[email protected]]

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kommissar rex - the guarantor of the law

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