THE FATHER
THE MOTHER
THE STEP-DAUGHTER
THE BOY
THE CHILD(The last two do not
speak)
THE SON
MADAME PACE
ACTORS of the Company
THE MANAGER
LEADING LADY
LEADING MAN
SECOND LADY
L'INGÉNUE
JUVENILE LEAD
OTHER ACTORS AND ACTRESSES
PROPERTY MAN
PROMPTER
MACHINIST
MANAGER'S SECRETARY
DOOR-KEEPER
SCENE-SHIFTERS
Daytime. The Stage of a Theatre
N. B. The Comedy is without acts or
scenes. The performance is interrupted once, without the curtain
being lowered, when the manager and the chief characters withdraw to
arrange the scenario. A second interruption of the action takes place
when, by mistake, the stage hands let the curtain down.
ACT I
The spectators will find the curtain
raised and the stage as it usually is during the day time. It will
be half dark, and empty, so that from the beginning the public may
have the impression of an impromptu performance. Prompter's box and
a small table and chair for the manager.
Two other small tables and several chairs scattered about as during
rehearsals.TheACTORS and ACTRESSESof
the company enter from the back of the stage: first one, then
another, then two together; nine or ten in all. They are about to
rehearse a Pirandello play: Mixing it Up. [Il giuoco delle
parti.] Some of the company move off towards their dressing
rooms. ThePROMPTERwho has the "book" under
his arm, is waiting for the manager in order to begin the
rehearsal.TheACTORS and ACTRESSES,
some standing, some sitting, chat and smoke. One perhaps reads
a paper; another cons his part.Finally, theMANAGERenters and goes to
the table prepared for him. HisSECRETARYbrings him his mail, through which he glances. ThePROMPTERtakes his seat, turns on a light, and
opens the "book."The Manager [throwing a letter down on the
table]. I can't see [ToPROPERTY MAN.]
Let's have a little light, please!Property Man. Yes sir, yes, at once. [A light
comes down on to the stage.]The Manager [clapping his hands]. Come
along! Come along! Second act of "Mixing It Up." [Sits
down.] [TheACTORS and
ACTRESSESgo from the front of the stage to the
wings, all except the three who are to begin the
rehearsal.]The Prompter [reading the "book"]. "Leo
Gala's house. A curious room serving as dining-room and study."The Manager [toPROPERTY
MAN]. Fix up the old red room.Property Man [noting it down]. Red set.
All right!The Prompter [continuing to read from the
"book"]. "Table already laid and writing desk with books and
papers. Book-shelves. Exit rear to Leo's bedroom. Exit left to
kitchen. Principal exit to right."The Manager [energetically]. Well, you
understand: The principal exit over there; here, the kitchen.
[Turning to actor who is to play the part ofSOCRATES.] You
make your entrances and exits here. [ToPROPERTY
MAN.] The baize doors at the rear, and curtains.Property Man [noting it down]. Right!Prompter [reading as before]. "When the
curtain rises, Leo Gala, dressed in cook's cap and apron is busy
beating an egg in a cup. Philip, also dresesd as a cook, is beating
another egg. Guido Venanzi is seated and listening."Leading Man [ToMANAGER].
Excuse me, but must I absolutely wear a cook's cap?The Manager [annoyed]. I imagine so. It
says so there anyway. [Pointing to the "book."]Leading Man. But it's ridiculous!The Manager [jumping up in a rage].
Ridiculous? Ridiculous? Is it my fault if France won't send us any
snore good comedies, and we are reduced to putting on Pirandello's
works, where nobody understands anything, and where the author
plays the fool with us all? [TheACTORSgrin. TheMANAGERgoes toLEADING MANand shouts.] Yes sir, you put on
the cook's cap and beat eggs. Do you suppose that with all this
egg-beating business you are on an ordinary stage? Get that out of
your head. You represent the shell of the eggs you are beating!
[Laughter and comments among theACTORS.]
Silence! and listen to my explanations, please! [ToLEADING MAN.] "The empty form of reason without the
fullness of instinct, which is blind." -- You stand for reason,
your wife is instinct. It's a mixing up of the parts, according to
which you who act your own part become the puppet of yourself. Do
you understand?Leading Man. I'm hanged if I do.The Manager. Neither do I. But let's get on with
it. It's sure to be a glorious failure anyway.
[Confidentially.] But I say, please face three-quarters.
Otherwise, what with the abstruseness of the dialogue, and the
public that won't be able to hear you, the whole thing will go to
hell. Come on! come on!Prompter. Pardon sir, may I get into my box?
There's a bit of a draught.The Manager. Yes, yes, of course!At this point, theDOOR-KEEPERhas
entered from the stage door and advances towards the manager's
table, taking off his braided cap. During this manoeuvre, the
SixCHARACTERSenter, and stop by the door at
back of stage, so that when theDOOR-KEEPERis about to announce their coming to theMANAGER, they are already on the stage. A tenuous
light surrounds them, almost as if irradiated by them -- the faint
breath of their fantastic reality.
This light will disappear when they come forward towards the
actors. They preserve, however, something of the dream lightness in
which they seem almost suspended; but this does not detract from
the essential reality of their forms and expressions.He who is known asTHE FATHERis a man of
about 50: hair, reddish in colour, thin at the temples; he is not
bald, however; thick moustaches, falling over his still fresh
mouth, which often opens in an empty and uncertain smile. He is
fattish, pale; with an especially wide forehead. He has blue,
oval-shaped eyes, very clear and piercing. Wears light trousers and
a dark jacket. He is alternatively mellifluous and violent in his
manner.THE MOTHERseems crushed and terrified as if by an
intolerable weight of shame and abasement. She is dressed in modest
black and wears a thick widow's veil of crêpe. When she lifts this,
she reveals a wax-like face. She always keeps her eyes
downcast.THE STEP-DAUGHTER, is dashing, almost impudent,
beautiful. She wears mourning too, but with great elegance. She
shows contempt for the timid half-frightened manner of the
wretchedBOY(14 years old, and also dressed
in black); on the other hand, she displays a lively tenderness for
her little sister,THE CHILD(about four),
who is dressed in white, with a black silk sash at the
waist.THE SON (22) tall, severe in his attitude of
contempt forTHE FATHER, supercilious and
indifferent toTHE MOTHER.He looks as if he
had come on the stage against his will.Door-keeper [cap in hand]. Excuse me,
sir...The Manager [rudely]. Eh? What is it?Door-keeper [timidly]. These people are
asking for you, sir.The Manager [furious]. I am rehearsing,
and you know perfectly well no one's allowed to come in during
rehearsals! [Turning to theCHARACTERS.] Who
are you, please? What do you want?The Father [coming forward a little, followed
by the others who seem embarrassed]. As a matter of fact... we
have come here in search of an author...The Manager [half angry, half amazed]. An
author? What author?The Father. Any author, sir.The Manager. But there's no author here. We are
not rehearsing a new piece.The Step-Daughter [vivaciously]. So much
the better, so much the better! We can be your new piece.An Actor [coming forward from the
others]. Oh, do you hear that?The Father [toSTEP-DAUGHTER]. Yes, but if the author isn't
here...[ToMANAGER.] unless you would be
willing...The Manager. You are trying to be funny.The Father. No, for Heaven's sake, what are you
saying? We bring you a drama, sir.The Step-Daughter. We may be your fortune.The Manager. Will you oblige me by going away? We
haven't time to waste with mad people.The Father [mellifluously]. Oh sir, you
know well that life is full of infinite absurdities, which,
strangely enough, do not even need to appear plausible, since they
are true.The Manager. What the devil is he talking
about?The Father. I say that to reverse the ordinary
process may well be considered a madness: that is, to create
credible situations, in order that they may appear true. But permit
me to observe that if this be madness, it is the sole raison
d'être of your profession, gentlemen. [TheACTORSlook hurt and perplexed.]The Manager [getting up and looking at
him]. So our profession seems to you one worthy of madmen
then?The Father. Well, to make seem true that which
isn't true...without any need...for a joke as it were ...Isn't that
your mission, gentlemen: to give life to fantastic characters on
the stage?The Manager [interpreting the rising anger of
theCOMPANY]. But I would beg you to believe, my
dear sir, that the profession of the comedian is a noble one. If
today, as things go, the playwrights give us stupid comedies to
play and puppets to represent instead of men, remember we are proud
to have given life to immortal works here on these very boards!
[TheACTORS, satisfied, applaud
theirMANAGER.]The Father [interrupting furiously].
Exactly, perfectly, to living beings more alive than those who
breathe and wear clothes: beings less real perhaps, but truer! I
agree with you entirely. [TheACTORSlook
at one another in amazement.]The Manager. But what do you mean? Before, you
said...The Father. No, excuse me, I meant it for you,
sir, who were crying out that you had no time [...]