Last but not least: A king returns

 The marketing battle and media ecstasy for the 30th anniversary of Elvis' death are on the horizon. Robert Redford's 70th birthday and the 60th Independence Day will be nothing more than sideshows. Because only one person can be the King, a superhuman combination of rhythm, money and libido. He also has a decisive marketing advantage over Redford: he's dead. Most likely... The fact that the memory of the truck driver with the swinging hips loves to discharge itself in scurrilities is not only due to "Love Me Tender" and "In The Ghetto", but also to the innocent charm of a Southern underclassman who, coupled with insane wealth, contributed to the most wonderful King drama in pop culture. A look at the TV program proves that the bizarre value of the Elvis commemoration can be relied upon: Not only is the King's wedding cake recreated, his clothes analyzed and the youngest Elvis fan sought, but theologians, "sexperts" and chefs are also allowed to put forward their theories about the cult of the last man to wear white. There is sure to be a liver or sweat stain or two in the shape of the King's face. It is also no surprise that a Hannes Rossacher documentary (Elvis-O-Rama, Thursday, ORF and Arte) makes up the majority of domestic Elvis remembrance. Even if the constant boiling up on the occasion of various anniversaries, deaths and birthdays sometimes seems forced and uninspired - institutional remembrance is part of the media retro society. Remembering oneself is much more strenuous.