Pathological Report no. 3
Four Major Plays by Arthur Schnitzler
A couple of weeks ago we drove to Salado, Texas, for the afternoon and stopped into a used books and antiques store located in a small chapel. Among others thing the shop housed many rabbit figurines (Easter preparation and general point of interest to me); Italian music played at an exceptionally loud, almost distracting volume; still, somehow, laughter could be heard from deep in a back room (the owner and the chaplain, each of whom I later encountered).
It seemed at first that I would come away empty-handed. I looked momentarily at a copy of Freud’s Vienna and Other Essays by Bruno Bettelheim (of The Uses of Enchantment celebrity), scanned the Texana shelves, the biographies and the hagiographies and the classics. Before leaving, however, I found in the corner a copy of Four Major Plays by Arthur Schnitzler, for a price of four minor dollars. If whatever reading history I’ve shared so far doesn’t indicate that I’m partial to Austrian literature, it’s now on the record; however, I’m presenting research on a Schnitzler novella later this spring, so I’ve been trying to fill in my reading gaps as far as his bibliography goes. It’s relatively rare that I read plays, for no particular reason, but I finally went through the four of them last week and am very glad to have done so.
The order of the plays in the text is as follows:
La Ronde
Anatol
The Green Cockatoo
Flirtation
The order in which I read them:
Flirtation
La Ronde
The Green Cockatoo
Anatol
And the order in which I enjoyed them (i.e., from most to least):
Anatol
my instinct is to say Flirtation, but close behind is
La Ronde
and The Green Cockatoo in last
For the sake of sharing my perceptions somewhat cumulatively, I’m reporting in the order of my reading,
Flirtation:
This title was an eye-catcher to me; flirtation has been a topic of conversation of late between myself and one of my best friends, so I thought if nothing else I would start here, read and report back to her with my findings. It turns out that the English title is a relatively liberal approximation of the “untranslatable” Liebelei: flirtation, affair, et cetera. In an attempt to better discern the word’s true meaning, I translated its German definition, with the following result: “a fleeting relationship that is not taken too seriously by the lovers or one of the two lovers” (in Schnitzler, the latter, and on multiple counts). It’s not hard to see how “flirtation” could apply here – but less the act of flirtation than a flirtation, a dalliance. A title like “Fling,” unfortunately, sounds a little unsophisticated, but maybe I’ll use that for an adaptation of my own. Anyway: the first of the plays that I read, and a very pleasant introduction. What immediately impressed me was how skillfully Schnitzler creates a sense of TOTALLY NATURAL RAPPORT between his characters. Silliness and wit convey genuine friendships and overlay pangs of the heart. The double-date dynamic doesn’t hurt, either. Still, what Flirtation ultimately communicates is not the frivolity of its namesake; on the contrary, it goes to show how such putatively unserious engagements can have the most serious (read: fatal) consequences. In retrospect, the conclusion strikes me as kind of random or abrupt, but it’s probably just an issue of projecting contemporary expectations on to the illicit liaisons of fin-de-siècle Vienna.
RECOMMEND: Yes
La Ronde:
Also known by its original (German) title, Reigen. La Ronde was so scandalous that initially Schnitzler only printed 200 copies for people in his circles, which, naturally, were passed around anyway and eventually attracted the attention of publishers. Schnitzler wished for the play never to be performed or adapted subsequent to his death, but alas, we have Max Ophüls’ 1950 film by the French name used in this edition (the transgression owing to the fact that Schnitzler had willed the French rights to his translator – a reminder to keep things in the family, as if it weren’t clear that translators are, by the very nature of their profession, duplicitous). A cast of ten: the Prostitute, the Soldier, the Parlour Maid, the Gentleman, the Young Wife, the Husband, the SWEET YOUNG THING, the Poet, the Actress, the Count. Obviously, obsessed by this character circuit. And as in a DANCE (Reigen), the FORM and MOVEMENT are produced through the exchange of partners: each scene portrays two of the characters as lovers, subbing in someone new for the next scene. I like the general thrust; however, I think the play is most interesting as a FORMAL WHOLE than on the level of the isolated interactions within. But maybe that’s like any dance: by the end I was a little dizzy, and ready for it all to stop.
RECOMMEND: Yes, and admit I’ll probably watch the film eventually
The Green Cockatoo:
Takes place in Paris (my name) on Bastille Day (my birthday). Beyond this setting, my interest, not only narcissistically, drops off. The real reason for this is more a matter of form: of the four plays, I think The Green Cockatoo depends most on being STAGED. Something is clearly missing when you’re faced with the script alone, and I noticed this especially because I so felt it was NOT the case with the other plays. The result feels slightly muddled, off-the-mark; I got the gist but my attention was drifting. What sticks with me most are the names of several female characters: Scaevola, Séverine, Michette, FLIPOTTE (five stars).
RECOMMEND: Put it in the theatre and I’ll circle back
Anatol:
This was the longest of the four plays (70 pages, I think). It’s a sequence of the eponymous PLAYBOY’S ESCAPADES. Loved it, laughed a lot. Since I read this one last I was sufficiently warmed up with (and warm to) Schnitzler’s style, and Anatol did not disappoint what fondness I had established. Seven acts: hypnosis of the girl du jour, last-minute Christmas shopping, throwing diamonds into the fireplace, among other events… plenty to get behind! The characters who persist throughout the various episodes are Anatol and Max, Anatol’s best friend, and as in Flirtation, I really relished the authenticity of their relationship between. I consciously realized while reading Anatol how I much I appreciate what Schnitzler accomplishes through dialogue alone (which I think holds in the others, excluding perhaps The Green Cockatoo). Anatol in my opinion fleshed out its substance most thoroughly, though maybe this is purely an effect of its greater length. Still, depth is felt most profoundly when encountered where one expects only shallows, as in the dramas of a skirt-chaser’s trivial pursuits.
Pathologically Random quote:
Leave her alone. She’s taking leave of the vanilla-creme. For ever.
RECOMMEND: Yes
Have a blessed day:
PR