Six Characters in Search of an Author
Six Characters in Search of an AuthorNotesACT IACT IIACT IIICopyright
Six Characters in Search of an Author
Luigi Pirandello
Notes
THE FATHERTHE MOTHERTHE STEP-DAUGHTERTHE BOYTHE CHILD
(The last two do not speak)THE SONMADAME PACEACTORS of the CompanyTHE MANAGERLEADING LADYLEADING MANSECOND LADYL'INGÉNUEJUVENILE LEADOTHER ACTORS AND ACTRESSESPROPERTY MANPROMPTERMACHINISTMANAGER'S SECRETARYDOOR-KEEPERSCENE-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 to lose with madmen,
while no one better than yourself knows that nature uses the
instrument of human fantasy in order to pursue her high creative
purpose.The Manager. Very well, -- but where does all this
take us?The Father. Nowhere! It is merely to show you that
one is born to life in many forms, in many shapes, as tree, or as
stone, as water, as butterfly, or as woman. So one may also be born
a character in a play.The Manager [with feigned comic
dismay]. So you and these other friends of yours have been
born characters?The Father. Exactly, and alive as you see!
[MANAGERandACTORSburst
out laughing.]The Father [hurt]. I am sorry you
laugh, because we carry in us a drama, as you can guess from this
woman here veiled in black.The Manager [losing patience at last and
almost indignant]. Oh, chuck it! Get away please! Clear out of
here! [ToPROPERTY MAN.] For Heaven's
sake, turn them out!The Father [resisting]. No, no, look
here, we...The Manager [roaring]. We come here
to work, you know.Leading Actor. One cannot let oneself be made such
a fool of.The Father [determined, coming
forward]. I marvel at your incredulity, gentlemen. Are you not
accustomed to see the characters created by an author spring to
life in yourselves and face each other? Just because there is no
"book" [Pointing to
thePROMPTER'S box.] which
contains us, you refuse to believe...The Step-Daughter [advances
towardsMANAGER, smiling and
coquettish]. Believe me, we are really six most interesting
characters, sir; side-tracked however.The Father. Yes, that is the word!
[ToMANAGERall at once.