SEMIOTICS OF DRAMA AND THEATRE

LINGUISTIC & LITERARY STUDIES IN EASTERN EUROPE (LLSEE)

The emphasis of this scholarly series is on recent developments in

Linguistic and Literary Research in Eastern Europe; it includes analysis,
translations and syntheses of current research as well as studies in
the history of linguistic and literary scholarship.

Founding Editor: John Odmark

General Editor: Philip A. Luelsdorff

Volume 10

Herta Schmid & Aloysius Van Kesteren (eds.)

Semiotics of Drama and Theatre

 SEMIOTICS OF
DRAMA AND THEATRE

New Perspectives in the

Theory of Drama and Theatre

edited by

Herta Schmid
and
Aloysius Van Kesteren

JOHN BENJAMINS PUBLISHING COMPANY

AMSTERDAM / PHILADELPHIA

1984
Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data
Main entry under title:
Semiotics of drama and theatre.
(Linguistic & literary studies in Eastern Europe, ISSN 0165-7712; v. 10)
English, French, and German.
Bibliography: p. 511
1. Drama -- Addresses, essays, lectures. 2. Theater - Addresses, essays, lectures. 3.
Semiotics -- Addresses, essays, lectures. I. Schmid, Herta. II. Kesteren, Aloysius van.
III. Series: Linguistic & literary studies in Eastern Europe; Bd. 10.
PN1633.S45S47 1984 792'.0141 84-14518
ISBN 90-272-1513-8
Copyright 1984 - All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, by print, photoprint, microfilm, or
any other means, without written permission from the publisher.
LESLIE JACKSON: PROMENY
(From "Prague" series)
E L I Z A B E T H G I L L E T T E JACKSON
( e x h i b i t s under the name of Leslie Jackson)

Residence and studio: 133 Moose Hill Road, Guilford, Connecticut

06437

EDUCATION:

B . A . , Latin American Studies, U n i v e r s i t y of Wisconsin, 1943

M . F . A . (Fine A r t s ) , U n i v e r s i t y of California, B e r k e l e y , 1953
Studies printmaking with H a r r y S t e r n b e r g , A r t Students League,
New Y o r k ; Seong Moy, Provincetown, Massachussetts; and Gabor
P e t e r d i , Yale U n i v e r s i t y
Fourteen months' w r i t i n g and studying in Mexico, 1940's; two
years' painting in France, 1960's; 1975, six months in the Soviet
Union, working on drawing of Leningrad and studying icons

TEACHING:
Creative A r t s Workshop, New H a v e n , Connecticut
D r a w i n g , p a i n t i n g , since 1960
Yale U n i v e r s i t y , New Haven
Seminar in drawing and its h i s t o r y , 1976, 1977, 1979, 1980
Castle Hill Center for the A r t s , T r u r o , Massachussetts
Drawing workshop, summers since 1977

EXHIBITS:
Provincetown, Massachussetts
Gallery 407, 1960
Paul Kessler G a l l e r y , 1965, 1979
New H a v e n , Connecticut
Ross-Talalay G a l l e r y , 1961, 1964
Ezra Stiles College ( Y a l e U n i v e r s i t y ) , 1962, 1965, 1967, 1969
S t a r l i g h t Music Festival, 1965
Trumbull College (Yale U n i v e r s i t y ) , 1979
Wellfleet, Massachussetts
Bragazzi G a l l e r y , 1966
Left Bank G a l l e r y , 1973, 1975, 1976
Washington, D . C .
Folger Shakespeare L i b r a r y , 1975
Rome, Italy
Galleria "La Pigna", 1980
Bergamo, I t a l y , Studio Gianfranco G u e r r a , 1980
P r i n t s , drawings and watercolors have been included in national
shows, such as those of the Society of American Graphic Artists,
L i b r a r y of Congress, American Watercolor Society.
Member of the Center for Independent S t u d y , New H a v e n .
 C o n t e n t s

T h e editors: New Perspectives in the T h e o r y of Drama and

T h e a t r e ; an. Introduction

1. F U N D A M E N T A L S OF T H E A T R E RESEARCH

Aloysius van Kesteren

T h e a t r e and Drama Research; an Analytical Proposition 19

II. THEORY OF DRAMA AND THEATRE

Mihai D i n u
T h e Algebra of Scenic Situations 67

A n d r Helbo
Evidence et stratgies de l'analyse theatrale 93

Miroslav Prochazka
On the Nature of Dramatic T e x t 102

Carlos Tindemans
Coherence and Focability. A Contribution to the
Analysability of T h e a t r e Discourse 127

111. D E S C R I P T I V E T H E A T R E RESEARCH

Erika Fischer-Lichte
T h e Dramatic Dialogue - Oral or L i t e r a r y Communication? 137

Harai Golomb
Music as Theme and as S t r u c t u r a l Model in Chekhov's
T h r e e Sisters 174

Ernest Hess-Lttich
Die Strategie der Paradoxie. Z u r Logik der Konversation
im Dandyismus am Beispiel Oscar Wildes 197
 6

Olle H i l d e b r a n d
T h e Theatrical T h e a t r e - Evreinov's Contribution to
Russian Modernism. An Analysis of T h e M e r r y Death 235

Steen Jansen
Le role de l'espace scnique dans la lecture du t e x t e
dramatique. Quelques observations sur un 'modle' du
g e n r e dramatique et sur les Sei personaggi in cerca
d'autore de Pirandello 254

P a t r i c e Pavis
On Brecht's Notion of Gestus 290

H e r t a Schmid
Die U m s t r u k t u r i e r u n g des theatralischen Zeichens in
echovs Einakter Predlozenie ( D e r H e i r a t s a n t r a g ) 305

Dina Sherzer
Frames and Metacommunication in Genet's T h e Balcony 368

Jin Veltrusky
Acting and Behaviour: A S t u d y in the Signans 393

I V . APPLIED THEATRE RESEARCH

Susan E. B a s s n e t t - M c G u i r e
Towards a T h e o r y of Women's T h e a t r e 445

Ed T a n a n d H e n r y Schoenmakers
'Good g u y bad g u y ' Effects in Political T h e a t r e 467

V. BIBLIOGRAPHY

Aloysius van Kesteren

Selective and Incomplete Bibliography of Analytical
Approaches to Drama and T h e a t r e 511
Introduction
 NEW PERSPECTIVES IN THE THEORY OF DRAMA AND THEATRE;
AN INTRODUCTION

1. Introduction

1975 appears to have been a very important year for the field of
drama and theatre research. It was our colleague and eminent guide,
Solomon Marcus, who called attention to this fact. In the Introduction
to his reader on the Formal Theory of Drama (1977:207) he stated:
"Very stimulating will [ . . . ] be the studies by Franco Ruffini (see de
tails in the very useful paper by Marco de Marinis-Patrizia Magli,
'Materiali bibliografici per una semiotica del teatro', Versus 11 (1975)
p.53-128), [...] and the very inspired books edited by Aloysius van
Kesteren and Herta Schmid (Moderne Dramentheorie [...] 1975) and
by Jos M. Diez Borque and Luciano Garcia Lorenzo (Semioliga del
teatro [ . . . ] 1975)". To these three titles (Marcus also mentions Steen
Jansen, by the way) a fourth can be added, which was also published
in 1975: Andr Helbo's Smiologie de la reprsentation. Helbo's French
reader was concerned with theatre in the broad sense: theatre prop
er, drama, television, 'bande dessine' and the like, whereas our
German reader mainly dealt with drama only. The Spanish reader was
a collection of papers on drama, theatre and film. Of special impor
tance to any field is the presentation of the state of affairs; hence
Marcus' appreciation of the bibliography by De Marinis and Magli.

Not only was proper attention paid to the object, theatre and drama,
(an attention by the way which was highly necessary regarding the
 10

state of affairs within the field up till t h e n : a proper Theatre Re

search hardly existed although brilliant studies by Steen Jansen,
Mihai Dinu, Solomon Marcus (1973) and Herta Schmid (1973), and of
course the publications by our forerunners Bogatyrev, Balychatyj,
Zich, Mukarovsky and V e l t r u s k y , etc. already pointed to a prosper
ous f u t u r e ) , but also the methods of analysis used were subjected to
reconsideration and revision. According to the titles of the French
and the Spanish reader as well as of the Italian bibliography, the
method proposed was semiotics, whereas our Dramentheorie had a
broader scope: not only semiotics was used, but also linguistics and
mathematics, and methods from formalism and structuralism, and even
some more traditional ones were included. However, semiotics appeared
to be the discipline on the basis of which Theatre Research was
proposed to be developed.

A t h i r d aspect can be pointed out: the mixture of original and 'old'

(however very important) contributions in the Spanish and the Ger
man readers.

Taken together, the four publications of that particular year showed

a range of papers that covered the past f o u r t y or f i f t y years of re
search that could be indicated as 'up-to-date' and basic: from then on
the field has been developed at a rate too quick in our opinion (we
will come back to this later).

Then, the aspects of theatre and drama analysed were very different.
To mention some: the theatre c r i t i c , the semantics of sex in Greek
theatre, the configuration of a play, the state of affairs in the f i e l d ,
and so on. Finally, drama and theatre of all times and cultures, al
though restricted to the Western World (including Eastern Europe),
were taken as illustrative materials or as objects of description.

In short, on five levels a very rich overview war presented: a level

of object, a level of aspects of objects, one of language, one of time
and c u l t u r e , and one of method of analysis.
 11

This tendency has been carried o n , as one can notice when one reads
the tables of content of recently published collections, and considers
the various proceedings of colloquia, symposia, and conferences that
have been held regularly (and in more and more rapid succession)
during the past seven years. Also a number of monographs and
introductions have been w r i t t e n recently that contribute to this too
quick development of our field of research (see the Bibliographical
section of the present r e a d e r ) .

Why this negative attitude, and why, as a consequence, another

reader?

2 . T h e present reader

From 1975 on hundreds and hundreds of new titles have been added
to the five hundred or so t h a t already existed (see De Marinis' and
Magli's b i b l i o g r a p h y , and the one in our Dramentheorie): too many.

Why too many?

For one, we limit ourselves to those publications t h a t p r o p e r l y can be

indicated as modern in which are reflected tendencies detected in
Linguistics, Poetics, T e x t theory and other members of the family of
Empirical disciplines in which verbal and nonverbal texts are s t u d i e d .
And secondly, and this presents a f a r more important reason for our
critical attitude, our field is threatened by a lack of gardening and
weeding of unavoidable and fast growing weeds. T h e a t r e Research is
threatened by the same disease as Semiotics i s , because both fields
are young and appealing. All kinds of methods are introduced under
the banners 'modern' or 'semiotic', but t h e y are not always relevant
and they do not always constitute serious attempts to improve the
field or to make a contribution to its development. The range of
methods is too wide, the methods are neither interrelated nor brought
into a proper t h e o r y or paradigm or science-philosophical ideology.

What about the present collection?

 12

It is not without reason that this reader has been presented under
the heading New perspectives. Surely, the tendency of the past ten
or fifteen years, the importance of which is too big to be denied, has
been continued in the new reader - and as such it is a continuation
of the collections from 1975 and after. The object is drama and thea
t r e , the aspects of this object dealt with are varied, the language is
English although contributions in French and German have been
included, the theatrical cultures range from Russia to England, from
'traditional' to fringe to feminist theatre. The methods of analysis are
the usual: linguistic, mathematic, s t r u c t u r a l , and semiotic of nature.
Nothing new at all it would seem. Two 'perspectives' not to be detect
ed in former readers however, are present in this one, and not by
chance.

The f i r s t one may not be considered as 'new' as is suggested: the

orientatation to modern drama and theatre. By choosing modern drama
and theatre, the reader is a reflection of developments within con
temporary dramaturgy and theatre theories: both the object and the
theoretical approaches to it from the part of authors, directors and
actors and so on have begun somewhere, some place, some time: in
Russia w i t h , say, Chekhov, in Scandinavia with Ibsen, in Belgium
with Maeterlinck, in Holland with Heijermans, in England with Craig,
etc. But gradually, the national-orientedness was left behind, and na
tional drama and theatre, national theories and meta-theories became
the seeds for a j o i n t l y , internationally cultivated and cared-for gar
den. The same goes for the methods used. They have been based
upon theories and paradigms that have begun nationally but that have
spread out all over the world and which are common by now. Chek
hov may be detected in Absurdism, Ibsen may be discovered in Femi
nist theatre; Russian Formalism, Popper and Chomsky may be found
in almost every contribution to this reader.

Indeed, may be not as 'new' as suggested, but s t i l l : towards a per

spective.

The second 'perspective' however, is highly 'new', and introduced

here for the f i r s t time in this way.
 13

It is the aspect of philosophy and logic of science. As far as we

know, this aspect is not incorporated in former readers although we
are aware of the fact that now and then a single contribution to and
indication of science-theoretical developments of Theatre Research can
be detected, for instance in Elam (1980), Pavis (1980), an unpub
lished paper by Tindemans (1980), Van Kesteren (1980a, b ) , and Van
Kesteren and Van Stapele (1982).

As a matter of fact the f i r s t contribution to the present reader is an

introduction to Fundamentals and Theory of Theatre Research. The
division into sections was based upon the suggestions proposed in it
(see for a rather complete program, Van Kesteren 1981/2, to be pub
lished in English in due time).

So, what lacks in former readers and proceedings and introductions:

systematics so to speak, is presented here explicitly and rather con
sistently. The reader is composed of five sections. The section of the
Fundamentals and Theory of Theatre Research (which is in fact of a
meta-level) is followed by some contributions on the Theory of Thea
t r e and Drama, introducing the object-level, by Mihai Dinu, Andr
Helbo, Miroslav Prochazka, and Carlos Tindemans. They deal with
aspects of the object in a more theoretical than descriptive way
(theory and description are hardly separable of course in research
praxis).

The t h i r d section, the most extended one because description (of

necessity based on more or less correct or worked out theoretical
starting points) still is the main activity of theatrical scholarship,
consists of ten (alphabetically ordered) contributions. The broad
scope in object-aspect is here even more reflected than in section I I .
However, each description is more or less based on semiotics as a tool
of analysis. That is, semiotics plays, as it did in the former section,
its part of 'umbrella', as Peter Van Stapele put it so adequately (see
Van Kesteren and Van Stapele 1982). Now, we are aware of the fact
that an unambiguous view, let alone definition, on what semiotics is,
does not exist (and will never be reached, which is not at all a pre-
 14

supposition for doing 'semiotics'). This lack of unanimity does not

necessarily have to be explained in a negative way. The main con
dition for this is that we know at what level semiotics is practised: as
a meta-theory, as a theory or as a method of description (which by
the way is the level at which semiotics is often misused: 'signs' are
everywhere, aren't they?). What we mean is: the methods of analysis
presented here, the theoretically oriented contributions of section I I ,
and even the ones of sections I and IV, f i t perfectly well within the
umbrellaconcept of semiotics as a meta-theory. This aspect too of the
present reader is 'new', not only in the sense of 'used for the f i r s t
time', but also and even more still in the sense of 'consistently
carried out' for the f i r s t time in this way (see again Van Kesteren's
publications mentioned above). This aspect is also reflected in the
fourth section. It deals with Applied Theatre Research. What counts
for theory and description, counts for application as well: based upon
theoretical assumptions, descriptive of nature, but predominantly
directing towards society and the role of theatre in i t . In the con
tributions by Susan Basnett-McGuire, and Henry Schoenmakers and
Ed Tan this predominance is reflected well.
A bibliography, which, in fact, is an example of applied research too,
concludes and completes the reader. In it is represented the state of
affairs within contemporary and modern, up-to-date, Theatre Re
search. It is of course not at all complete and highly selective, meant
on the one hand as a continuation of the bibliographies by De Marinis
and Magli (1975), and Van Kesteren (1975), and on the other as a
tool for students and teachers, being an introductory step to the
most important studies within the field.

3. Conclusion

In this introduction of the division in sections of the reader, the main

reasons for its being 'new' and 'perspective' have been mentioned: 1.
the contributions reflect the international cooperation in developing
drama and theatre as well as its theories, 2. the reader is the f i r s t
 15

attempt of presenting papers within the context of ( A n a l y t i c a l ) T h e o r y

of Science, 3. it is the f i r s t consistent set of papers starting from
Semiotics as a m e t a - t h e o r y , and 4. it is the f i r s t collection of system
atically in sections divided papers, ranging from fundamentals and
meta-theory to applied research. Please, join the p a r t y .

The editors.

References

De Marinis, Marco e Patrzia Magli 1975

'Materiali bibliografici per una semiotica del t e a t r o ' , Versus 1 1 ,
pp.53-128.
Diez B o r q u e , Jos y Luciano Garc'a Lorenzo ( e d s . ) 1975
Semiologa del teatro (Barcelona: Planeta).
Elam, Keir 1980
T h e Semiotics of T h e a t r e and Drama (London: M e t h u e n ) .
Helbo, A n d r ( e d . ) 1975
Smiologie de la reprsentation ( B r u x e l l e s : Complexe).
Marcus, Solomon 1973
'Mathematische Methoden im T h e a t e r s t u d i u m ' , i n : S. Marcus:
Mathematische Poetik ( B u c u r e s t i und F r a n k f u r t / M . : Ed. Ac. und
Athenaum), pp.287-370.
Marcus, Solomon ( e d . ) 1977
T h e formal study of drama (Amsterdam and New York: North
Holland and E l s e v i e r ) . ,
Pavis, Patrice 1980
Dictionnaire du t h t r e ( P a r i s : Ed. Sociales).
Schmid, Herta 1973
Strukturalistische Dramentheorie ( K r o n b e r g / T s . : Scriptor).
Tindemans, Carlos 1980
'General Methodology of T h e a t e r Study: A Tentative Framework
Concept' ( m s . ) .
Van Kesteren, Aloysius 1975
'Einfhrende Bibliographie z u r modernen Dramentheorie', in: A.
van Kesteren und H. Schmid ( H r s g . ) , 1975: p p . 3 1 8 - 3 3 8 .
Van K e s t e r e n , Aloysius 1980a
'Theaterwetenschap; een pamflet', T i j d s c h r i f t voor T h e a t e r w e t e n
schap 5, p p . 5 1 - 6 9 .
 16

Van Kesteren, Aloysius 1980b

'Theaterwetenschap; een kader voor theoretisch, descriptief en
toegepast onderzoek', i n : W. Hildebrand en T h . Kuchenbuch
(red.), Problemen bij het receptieonderzoek bij film, theater en
drama(tekst) (Utrecht: Theaterwetenschap).
Van Kesteren, Aloysius 1981/2
Theaterwetenschap. Methodologie voor een jonge wetenschap.
Naar een Analytische wetenschap van het theater (Leiden en
Antwerpen) (to be published in English).
Van Kesteren, Aloysius und Herta Schmid ( H r s g . ) 1975
Moderne Dramentheorie ( K r o n b e r g / T s . : S c r i p t o r ) .
Van Kesteren, Aloysius and Peter Van Stapele 1982
'Theses on Theatre Research and Theatre', Pegrs 29, i1-i6.
1. Fundamentals of Theatre Research
 THEATRE AND DRAMA RESEARCH; AN ANALYTICAL PROPOSITION*
TO CARLOS

Aloysius Van Kesteren

1. INTRODUCTION

1. Introduction

The day I entered the fields of our discipline, Theatre Research, to

be precise: September 18th, 1970, I was shocked. In 1970, the
Dutch dramatologist Van der Kun had opened the gates to these
fields for me by means of his Handelingsaspecten van het drama
(1970 = 1938; Aspects of Action of the Drama), and I was very much
relieved to find out that there seemed to be a discipline in which a
relatively consistent method of analysis of drama texts was offered.

However, my optimism very quickly sank below zero: Theatre Re

search offered me a pile of books and articles in which all kinds of
aspects of drama and theatre were studied through 'guesswork', to
paraphrase Helmer and Rescher (1969:182), guesswork not even done
brilliantly ( i b i d . ) . Had I read Steinbeck I would known that this was
normal of the discipline, because he phrased my disappointment as
follows (1970:199):

* This paper has been written during my stay at NIAS, Wassenaar,

Holland (1980/1).
 20

Was freilich eine [ . . . ] Analyse [ . . . ] erschwert, ja v e r h i n d e r t , ist

das Fehlen einer theatertheoretischen Terminologie. Solange die Mo-
mente, die die Gestalt Theater aufbauen, und jene, die seine Wert-
s t r u k t u r objektiv begrnden, nicht bezeichnet werden knnen, so
lange bleiben sie naturgem systematischer Theaterwissenschaft
unthematisch. Es scheint kaum zuviel gesagt, daB die Krise der
Theaterwissenschaft nicht nur in ihrem unentwickelten Gegenstands-,
Problem- und MethodenbewuBtsein wurzelt, sondern insbesondere auch
im Zustand ihrer Fachsprache.

Well, I had not, and apparently no one else who was working in the
field at the time.

Ten years after date, the discipline still has no 'Fachsprache', and
most of its publications still have to be labelled as 'common nonsense'.

We simply cannot talk with one another about (aspects of) our dis
cipline, because we are still lacking in a common 'language'. The
terminology by which statements on the field's aspects are phrased
still is Babylonic of nature: we simply are not able to communicate
with each other properly. Basic terms and notions such as 'action',
'character', 'event', 'drama', etc. are not defined in a proper way;
they are drowned in ambiguity. Our field language is inadequate: its
phrases are not formally and structurally well formed, they do not
represent reality relevantly, they are neither interpretable nor ac
ceptable let alone controllable, criticizable or applicable (see Tinde-
mans 1980). Our language is lacking in a syntax, a semantics, as
well as a pragmatics. The state in which our discipline finds itself, is
the state in which Poetics was in 1923, the year Roman Ingarden
r i g h t l y raised this question (1970:385):

Kann man [ . . . ] so etwas wie das literarische Werk intuitiv erfor-

schen, ist das ein Gegenstand, der so beschaffen ist, daB man ihn
unmittelbar erkennen kann? Was ist das 'literarische Werk' einerseits
im Unterschied zu logischen bzw. grammatischen Gebilden, gleichzeitig
auch zu idealen Gegenstanden, und andererseits im Unterschied zu
realen Gegenstanden und zu nicht-literarischen Werken der Kunst?
Das ist doch die zentrale Fragestellung, von deren Lsung sowohl die
Abgrenzung der Literaturwissenschaft gegenber anderen Theorie-
bereichen der Kunst abhangt als auch die Entscheidung darber, ob
man mit anti-psychologistischen Argumenten innerhalb der Literatur
wissenschaft tatsachlich in aller Extension operieren kann.
 21

The answer is: we cannot study drama and theatre on the basis of
intuition, o r , to put it more gently (because intuition in itself is a
very nice and good human g i f t ) , on intuition alone. Intuition needs
knowledge as a complement. Knowledge of what?; the r i g h t question
on the r i g h t spot: knowledge of the most fundamental feature every
study or science needs: methodology.

2. A science in need for a methodology

Theatre Research does not exist, and if it does, it is Pebbles crawl

ing on all fours across the cold floor of the stone age cave of the
discipline in which it is raised by a Fred Kindermann und a Wilma
Dietrich, by uncle Barney Beckermann and auntie Betty Worth, and
other relatives and f r i e n d s , of the FIRT-family.

Characteristic indeed of Theatre Research is what Bocheski says on

'pre-science' (1971:19):

In ihren Frhstadien enthalt die Wissenschaft freilich oft nur eine

Menge von miteinander nicht verbundenen Satzen. . . . die Haupt-
tendenz jeder Forschung [soll] nicht nur auf die Entdeckung von
neuen Sachverhalten [gehen], sondern auch (und vielleicht vor allem)
auf die logische Ordnung der schon festgestellten Satze . . .

There is no such thing as 'logische Ordnung' of the phrases of our

discipline; no such thing as methodology.

To avoid misunderstanding; methodology is the theory of the method

of performing science, or, as Bocheski put it (1971:16-17), the
theory of the "Art und Weise, in irgendeinem Gebiet vorzugehen,
d.h. unsere Tatigkeit zu ordnen, und zwar einem Ziel zuzuordnen."
By this is not meant that methodology is a law, and that breaking this
law leads to exile as has been wrongly put forward and suggested by
some non-analytical colleagues while reproaching us. By no means.
Methodology is nothing more, and cannot and may not be more than a
"guide-line for obtaining reliable results, a number of elementary
rules of behavior which guarantee a meaningful (and sensible)
scholarly communication", as Teun van Dijk puts it (1971a: 12).
 22

This is an acceptable kind of general and implicit claim one may

impose upon every science or scholarly activity and study. Further
more we will have to keep in mind that there is no such thing as a
methodology that counts for each and every science or for all sciences
for all times. Each field has its own object of research; each object
causes its own problems; each problem asks for a specific approach.

Our discipline for instance is typically one in which people think

about drama and theatre, rather than do something with it as is the
case with Archeology and Psychoanalysis. If this is taken to be t r u e ,
then we can t r y to develop directives for thinking correctly about
drama and theatre: we want to gain insight into, and get knowledge
of, the object and its field. This correct thinking will have to be
more theoretical than practical in nature: as a scholar we do not
want to improve playwriting, nor just to reconstruct plays out of
fragments digged up out of dusty monastery libraries. What we have
in mind is to find ways to analyze or describe a play, or to study the
way in which a, play is constructed and/or perceived, or to develop a
theatre theory, etc.

Furthermore there is a natural hierarchy within the methodology of

this theoretically correct thinking on drama and theatre. In the f i r s t
place we need directives to construct a science; Carlos Tindemans has
excellently provided this f i r s t step recently in a, unfortunately, u n
published paper (1980). In the second place we need directions to
construct a theory for Theatre Research proper. My job is to provide
a methodology of theoretically correct thinking about drama and
theatre, a methodology based upon the general methodology of science
making.

3. Two ways of doing science

According to Bocheski (1971:18), and other science methodologists,

one can think about science or do science in two ways: subjectively
 23

and objectively (or rather, intersubjectively; see Helmer and Rescher

1969). Doing science in the subjective sense, is nothing else than
communicating about one's field based upon systematic and common
knowledge of i t , i.e., based upon understanding the f i e l d , thinking
about the field in a correct way, doing research on/in the field
systematically, and upon the ability of discovering relations between
objects and aspects of objects of the field. It is indeed a kind of
common sense on how to do things with science.

Doing science objectively (intersubjectively) is not based upon knowl

edge or common sense, but is communicating about the field on the
basis of a set of intersubjectively constructed phrases or statements.
Bocheski (to quote him once again) says (1971:18-19):

Die so verstandene Wissenschaft besteht offenbar nicht 'an sich'

- aber sie ist auch nicht an einen Einzelmenschen gebunden. Vielmehr
handelt es sich bei ihr urn ein soziales Gebilde, indem sie im Denken
mehrerer Menschen besteht - und zwar oft so, da keiner von diesen
alle ihr zugehrigen Satze kennt. Die objektiv verstandene Wissen
schaft hat folgende Kennzeichen: (a) Sie ist ein systematisch geordne-
tes Gefge von objektiven Satzen - entsprechend dem systematischen
Charakter der Wissenschaft im subjektiven Sinne des Wortes. ( b ) Zur
Wissenschaft gehren nicht alle ihrem Gebiet zugehrigen Satze - son-
dern nur jene, welche durch wenigstens einen Menschen gekannt
sind. Genauer gesagt: auer gekannten Satzen gibt es keine f a k t i -
schen, sondern nur mgliche Satze. Die Wissenschaft besteht nun
nicht aus mglichen, sondern aus tatsachlich gebildeten Satzen.
Deshalb kann man von der Entwicklung, vom Fortschritt der Wis
senschaft sprechen. Dieser kommt namlich so zustande, daB die Men
schen neue Sachverhalte erkennen und dementsprechend neue Satze
bilden, (c) Die Wissenschaft ist [ . . . ] ein soziales Werk. Deshalb
gehren zu ihr nur solche Satze, die in irgendeiner Weise objektiviert
wurden, d . h . in Zeichen dargestellt wurden, namlich so, daB sie
anderen Menschen mindestens prinzipiell zuganglich sind.

4. Conclusion

I myself am s t r i v i n g after such an intersubjective Theatre Research.

A f i r s t step in the attempt to reach this aim is to provide a frame-
work which is based upon the fact that doing science, taken in its
 24

intersubjective sense, is a social process, that such a science is a

social product. Furthermore that such a science is presented by
means of signs providing for well-formedness, realness, the possibil
ity of interpretation of i t , for acception or rejection, and for applica
tion and criticism. This will be done in part II hereafter.

A second necessary step is, according to me, to divide Theatre Re

search in a set of subfields in order to make a research program
which can stand criticism. It is based on the recently suggested
division of fields such as Linguistics, Poetics, Translatics, and other
fields of the stock of Empirical sciences in general and Text sciences
in particular. It is provided for in the last part of this paper.

I I . A FRAMEWORK FOR THEATRE RESEARCH

1. Introduction

Any object which is directly or indirectly connected to the phenom

enon of theatre (theatre taken in its broad sense) or which could or
may be connected to it - and which is or becomes as such an object
of study of Theatre Research, will have to be placed within a re
search framework. Such a framework is necessary for several reasons.
The most urgent ones (depending on the present state of affairs
within the field) are, according to me, the following:

1. the preventing of ad hoc descriptions and interpretations of

(aspects of) theatre objects;
2. the preventing of crossing and mixing of the dimensions of de
scription;
3. the facilitation of showing and indicating relations between objects
(or their aspects) to be studied;
4. the revealing of possibilities of connecting research and studies on
these objects and aspects; and
 25

5. the disclosure of possibilities to set up strategies for research

planning and to carry them out according to short term, medium
term and long term phases, taking into account the schemes of
fellow researchers or institutes and departments.

The reason for the creation of such a framework is a result of the

experience acquired through the performing of research, and through
the confrontation with research and its reports and accounts done by
fellow researchers. In most cases (leaving aside exceptions) theatre
objects and aspects are still described a r b i t r a r i l y and intuitively. The
resulting descriptions are based upon methods (often even implicit
ones) from various disciplines which are 'elevated' ad hoc and without
argumentation to the status of auxiliary disciplines without the
faintest notion of problems regarding application and analogy. Next,
definitions and descriptions of terms are invented that are highly i n
consistent with respect to the dimension of description: they are often
mixtures of statements about the form, s t r u c t u r e , content, meaning,
function and/or effect of the object at issue. Further, it is often u n
clear on the basis of which theory ( i f at all formulated explicitly) the
object has been analysed. Finally, often the methodological and
science theoretical basis which is indispensable to study the object at
all is lacking.

These shortcomings (to limit myself to only these ones) which are
reflected in a painful and obvious way in the results of research
carried out by fellow-theatre scholars (as well as in those of mine),
have led to the attempt of setting up a framework for research.
Underlying study will provide such a framework.

The starting point is the fact that Theatre Research is one of the so
called empirical sciences which have generally been divided into the
natural sciences and the humanities. Theatre Research belongs to the
latter group. It goes without saying that theatre is a phenomenon
which is not 'natural' but which is 'invented' by human beings, which
is made by man. I would like to cite a passage concerning the 'man-
madeness', the empirical nature of theatre from the publication of
 26

some philosophers of science who have formulated the matter as f o l

lows (Beerling et a l . 1978:111; translation is mine):

When speaking of the object of the Humanities, we are thinking of

anything that is added to or changed in nature by man. Thus a field
the 'lower border' of which is formed by the utmost simple utensils
and the 'upper border' of which is formed by the utmost sublime
ideas or utmost complicated theories [however, see Goodman 1968b,
a.o. A V K ] . One may say, then - although the statement needs neces
sary additional remarks - that man . . . lives in a world of self-made
objects and self-invented aims. What this world looks like, and what
man does and t h i n k s , undertakes and undergoes, brings about and
nullifies within i t , all this may be considered part of the field of
research of the Humanities.

On the basis of this statement no one can deny (not even those who
ascribe to man 'the natural inclination to playing and acting') that
Theatre Research is one of the empirical Human sciences. Just as it is
done within other empirical sciences, the theatre scholar learns (and
teaches) the empirical object 'theatre'. This learning process is reach
ed through observation, perception and experience: through em
piricism. However, not all observation, perception and experience is
scientific or scholarly by nature. Considered as such, this empiricism
will have to satisfy a number of conditions, or meet some require
ments. Beerling et al. state (1978:61; translation is mine):

The scientific way of observing will have to be learned in advance. It

is dependent on a large measure of scholarly education the researcher
will have to go through f i r s t . . . The attention of the researcher will
have to be t r a i n e d , directed and ordered in advance. Only then data
that are relevant may be discovered and identified as such.

This statement may seem to be t r i t e and homespun. The state and

course of things within our f i e l d , however, witness that it is not: a
proper theatre research strategy does not yet exists. This is precise
ly the condition for scientific empirical research. A program is
needed.

Such a program (as a product as well as a process) is provided by

the Methodology of science. Within science one will have to behave
oneself according to certain rules in order to be able to penetrate the
territorium to be examined, to order its objects and phenomena, and
 27

to communicate about them with fellow researchers. This scientific

behaviour is expressed by four plus one activities. They have a
strong and hierarchical interrelation, but are chronologically inter
woven .

I will start with the second step; the f i r s t one will be mentioned after
the last step for reasons of research policy.

This second step, t h e n , is the formulation of directions about how to

perform research: 'if you want to attain this or that result you had
better perform such and such actions'.

The t h i r d step is the formulation of norms of behaviour: 'if you want

to attain this or that result you had better act in such and such a
way'.

The fourth step is the description of the actions performed: 'you

have attained this or that by having performed such and such ac
tions'. The f i f t h step is to give value judgements or to test the
actions performed: 'it is or has been correct or incorrect that you
acted in that way to attain this or t h a t ' . (See also Wunderlich 1974:
50, who formulated these steps in a similar way.)

These four steps or phases of research have also been mentioned by

Carl Hempel. According to him to the empirical sciences - and there
fore to Theatre Research - are attached two aims (1969:1): "to
describe particular phenomena in the world of our experience and to
establish general principles by means of which they can be explained
and predicted".

As has been said, one step precedes the four mentioned above: a
frame of reference will have to be created within which these four
steps can be performed. This frame of reference is the basis of every
research program. This claim has been indicated by Carlos Tindemans
regarding Theatre Research. He states (1980:1-2):

It seems to me . . . desirable to formulate a framework concept in

which potential basic concepts become controlable, judgeable, valuable.
For this reason I submit a series of desiderata to which any frame-
 28

work concept must answer or with the aid of which specific concepts
can be judged as to their acceptability and validity. This series of
desiderata is composed of two sections. The f i r s t section lists such
desiderata the concretization of which must be guaranteed by each
postulate (any hypothesis within a given framework) of the scientific
foundation of theatre study. Once this acceptable framework concept
is used for the valuation of the attempts of the scientific foundation
of theatre study as presently applied, then the non-concretization of
these desiderata acts as criticism. The second section comprises such
desiderata that only relate to the projected framework concept itself.

Then he sums up these desiderata and discusses them at length; I

will only paraphrase his summing u p . The three desiderata of the
first section Tindemans mentions (1980:2-4) are the following: the
admissible postulates of a scientific foundation of theatre study con
structed within an acceptable framework concept, must be: 1 . com
parable, 2. applicable, 3. criticizable. The three desiderata of the
second section are: 1 . an acceptable framework concept must assign a
legitimate place to the history of science of theatre study in discus
sing the various postulates of its scientific foundation; 2. an accept
able framework concept must be conceived in such a way that it limits
as little as possible the multiplicity of the admissible postulates of the
scientific foundation of theatre study; 3. a postulated framework
concept must be criticizable.

Although they are very important to the present study they have not
been worked out here nor assimilated in i t . Starting from these five
steps, a division into five subfields can be made. Theatre Research
then is composed of the following subfields (compare Lieb 1970):
1. Fundamentals of Theatre Research;
2. Theory of Theatre Research;
3. Theoretical Theatre Research (or Theory of theatre);
4. Descriptive Theatre Research (or Description of theatre);
5. Applied Theatre Research (or Application of theatre).

Dependent on the view about the kind of science Theatre Research

ought to be, e . g . its methodology, these subfields can be described.
Also the theatre object or aspect to be studied plays a role, mainly in
the description of the last three subfields. Such a methodology may
 29

be taken in the narrow sense or in the broad sense of the term.

Methodology is understood as 'narrow' if one limits the object of
Theatre Research: 'theatre', to a phenomenon having only immanent
characteristics such as form, structure and content. The methodology
of Theatre Research is 'broad' when one also takes into account all
external factors that influence the object. In short, when one con
siders theatre a sign which is communicated, be it a process or a
product. I adhere to the broad view, and I have a number of reasons
for doing so. I will mention only four (see Wunderlich 1974:49-50):

1. Theatre Research is an empirical human science. Therefore prob

lems are to be discussed with respect to observation, induction
and deduction, testing and evaluation, and prediction (see also De
Groot's 'empirical cycle', 1961), procedures that act in other em
pirical sciences too (see Popper's The Logic of Scientific Discovery,
Hempel's Fundamentals of Concept Formation in Empirical Science,
and many other publications). It follows that it is advisable not to
limit the object of the field to its immanent characteristics.
2. By taking theatre 'broadly', thus considering it a many-sided
object, it is useful if not necessary to be interdisciplinary-oriented
in order to enable oneself to study the object and its aspects at
issue as adequately as possible. The 'potentialities' of the object
provided by a methodologically 'broad' view would unnecessarily
be restricted by taking it 'narrowly'.
3. Methodology in the broad sense provides a wide variety of ways of
approaching theatre research problems.
4. Such a methodology takes care of the actualization and realization
of the possibility of a meaningful communication and interaction
between theatre scholars by means of a theatre research lexicon to
be created, a language and a proper way of argumentation.

The five subfields mentioned can be explicitated by means of a number

of activities to be carried out within each subfield. They are (see
also Van Kesteren and Van Stapele 1981a):
 30

1. Fundamentals of Theatre Research

1. Formulation of the way in which Theatre Research can be made
a proper scholarly discipline, and the conditions which have to
be fulfilled in order to arrive at such a properly functioning
discipline.
2. Reasoned choice of a general methodology on the basis of the
state of affairs within the field.
3. Explicitation of the general methodology chosen.
2. Theory of Theatre Research
1. Formulation of the kind of research the field ought to cover,
and the kind of discipline the field ought to be.
2. Reasoned choice of a particular methodology on the basis of the
view one has about the practice of theatre research.
3. Explicitation of the particular methodology chosen.
4. Formulation of the characteristics of the object of the f i e l d ,
theatre.
3. Theoretical Theatre Research
1. Formulation of the conditions a theory of theatre must f u l f i l l .
2. Reasoned choice of the theory on the basis of the view one has
about theatre.
3. Explicitation of the theory chosen.
4. Descriptive Theatre Research
1. Formulation of the conditions methods of description of concrete
aspects of theatre must f u l f i l l .
2. Reasoned choice of the description operations, methods and
ways with regard to the theatre aspect to be described.
3. The mentioning of methods available and originating from
auxiliary disciplines, and the explicitation of the methods used.
5. Applied Theatre Research
1. Formulation of the way in which Theatre Research can be used
as an auxiliary discipline.
2. Reasoned choice of the field of application, be it science and
research, society, education and didactics, institutions and
(groups of) theatre users.
3. Explicitation of the application.
 31

When these steps have been carried out, the procedure will start
again through the reformulation of the way Theatre Research will have
to be developed f u r t h e r .

Within this proposition each of the five subfields will be dealt with
roughly. They w i l l , however, be treated at length in my Handbook of
Theatre Research (1984-5; see also Van Kesteren 1981b).

2. State of affairs within Theatre Research

As has been said above, Theatre Research is one of the empirical

human sciences. In using the term 'human sciences', I follow P.H.
Nidditch who states (1968:1): "The term 'human sciences' is used
here to cover the recognised social sciences (anthropology, economics,
political sciences, sociology, etc.) together with such other studies of
man as history, linguistics, and human psychology". The scholar
obtains his or her (for practical reasons - and not sexistic or anti-
feministic ones - I will only use 'his' during this study) data from
observation, perception and experience. These activities will be led
into scientific channels on the basis of his education in science policy
which he is taught to discriminate between the relevant and the non
relevant notions, statements and arguments, to explicitate and test
the intuitive ones, to order the results with the help of all kinds of
instruments from methodology and theory of science, and to construct
theories which will have to be controlled and reformulated (if neces
sary) on the basis of new empirical data. Beerling et al. put it this
way (1978:61-62; translation is mine):

Through his scientific education the researcher knows where and how
to look for scientifically relevant data. However, the looked for is not
always to be found instantaneously. After laborious and ingenious
scientific detective work the researcher may come to the conclusion
that the hypothesis by which his attention was guided, was not the
absolutely correct one. He may discover unexpected new data that do
not ' f i t ' within his original scheme. He is, however, only then able to
do this when he critically followed the procedures of previous re
search or predecessing researchers followed. Through t h i s , scientific
 32

empirical study has been moved away from every day experience in
many directions. Whole scientific regions are hardly or not known to
or to be mapped by the lay man. The scientific nature lies in the
logically consistent structuring of this empiricism. The insight into its
systematic coherence can only be gained after thorough scientific
education and practical scientific experience. The nature of the em
pirical structure is an important methodological problem.

Beerling et al. raise at least two very important matters for discus
sion. The f i r s t one is the matter of the history of a discipline, here
the History of Theatre Research. The second matter concerns the
nature of the empirical structure of Theatre Research. Both are con
nected in such a way that I will treat them together.

As has been indicated, Theatre Research consists of five subfields

which can be related to the phases of the scientific research process:
the fundamentals to the framework, the theory to the way of observa
t i o n , the theoretical subfield to the phase of induction and deduction,
the descriptive one to testing, and the applied subfield to the phase
of evaluation. All these phases are, however, interconnected and
occur in each of the subfields too. Phases and subfields are like warp
and woof, a texture with various patterns of stitches in which a
given stitch (phase) dominates the others. A generally accepted fact
is that within the empirical sciences observation, theory and ex
periment are completely interwoven. This has been stated for instance
by Beerling et al. (1978:89), who explicitate this fact, together with
the interconnection of subfields and phases (see again the 'empirical
cycle' of De Groot 1961) as follows (1978:63; translation is mine):

Certain regularities and rules of deduction that occur within induction

and deduction respectively, are already methodologically implied in the
process of observation. This process of observation is after all more
than coincidental because, among other t h i n g s , the identification and
classification of data are inherent to i t . The empirical cycle is thus
preceded by a methodological frame of reference which is not only
made explicit but also often changed ('redirected') within the pre
ceding process of research. In this way the relation between this
frame of reference and the empirical cycle is in fact not one of
chronology but one of continuous interaction: on the one hand the as
yet unelaborated rules of research strategy are available, on the
other the empirical data are ready on hand. The process of scientific
research is a result of this interaction.
 33

Although I am aware of the fact that this view is considered problem

atic if not old-fashioned and detected from the point of view of the
logic of science, I am of the opinion that mentioning it is still w o r t h
while. The reason for this lies in the state of affairs of Theatre Re
search, its history and its empirical s t r u c t u r e . With respect to t h i s ,
my task is not only to provide an analysis of the structure of scien
tific statements and arguments Theatre Research will have to be
composed of, but also to provide a historical account of the methods
used up till now, however provisionally it may be. A short descrip
tion of both task has been given by Nidditch. He says (1968:3-4)

in earlier generations a main, if not the main, task of the philosoph

ical treatment of the sciences was taken to be the provision of a full
natural-history-cum-logical-account of scientific method; for Herschel,
Whewell, Mill, Jevons, and their successors, this meant (1) delineat
ing a general pattern of scientific discovery and (2) establishing
comprehensive and universally applicable canons of validation for
scientific hypotheses. (1) and (2) overlap to some extent because
conducting appropriate tests of validity is required at some stage in
the total process of scientific discovery. The tradition founded by the
writers just mentioned has ceased to flourish among philosophers so
far as it involves ( 1 ) . But it is still alive in some quarters.

As can be noticed, this stage will be met with when reading Beerling
et al. (1978), De Groot (1961), as well as the present study. Theatre
Research is a discipline that cannot a f f o r d , in its present state, to
omit the stage just rendered. It is even a stage it hardly reached.
Only some studies reflect this way of performing science (see for
instance, the so called empirical performance analysis by scholars
such as Schoenmakers, T a n , and Schalzky; see for a critique, Van
Kesteren and Van Stapele 1981c). In a footnote, Nidditch adds ( p . 5 ,
footnote 2) that there have been occasions when the structure of
scientific thought has been examined in combination with a study of
historical circumstances. He mentions among others, Crombie (1953),
Hanson (1959), and Hesse (1961). The present study is more or less
another example. Apart from that, I will come back to the aspect of
psychological and historical conditions Nidditch mentions as well as to
the aspect he mentioned regarding the difference between scientific
 34

discovery and scientific validation in the Handbook mentioned above;

see also Rudner (1966). Let us return to our framework.

The designation of a frame for research will have to be undertaken

within the f i r s t subfield, the Fundamentals of Theatre Research. It is
the f i r s t step to be taken. When dealing with empirical sciences a
number of philosophies or theories of science are availabe. Some of
the more current methodologies of disciplines such as Theatre Re
search are: Positivism, Historicism, Phenomenology, Formalism, Neo-
Positivism, Existentialism, Structuralism, Dialectic-Materialism, Neo-
Hermeneutics, and the like (see e . g . Bochehski 1971; Maren-Grise-
bach 1975; Leibfried 1970; Hauff et al. 1971, 1972; megac and
Skreb ( e d . ) 1973. Although they limit themselves to methodologies for
Literary Studies - with the exception of Bocheski - these studies
may serve as examples for Theatre Research as well; see Van Kesteren
1975c). I will now treat three of these methodologies, one of which is
non-analytical, and the other two analytical in nature. The non-
analytical one is Hermeneutic Theatre Research; the analytical ones
are what I call 'Imitative' Theatre Research, and Neo-Positivistic
Theatre Research. The approaches will be treated by way of sum
maries. The Neo-Positivistic (Analytical) approach is of course central
within the present study ( i t will be treated at length in Van Kesteren
1984-85; see also 1981b).

2 . 1 . Hermeneutic Theatre Research

The methodology by which traditional Drama and Theatre Research is

characterized, is the one called 'hermeneutic', the 'study of explana
tion', or the 'theory of interpretation', or the 'doctrine of under
standing', or whatever it has been called. The scholar who is her-
meneutics-oriented (see e . g . Kindermann 1963; Knudsen 1950; Kut-
scher 1949; Niessen 1949) proceeds as follows.

He starts from intuition which is based upon his own experiences

through which he interprets the object at issue and describes it by
 35

means of a first draft. The interpretation and its description are

defended by the statement that a kind of preliminary knowledge about
the object has been gained through the experience obtained by the
many visits he paid to the theatre. This pre-knowledge is postulated
to be sufficient to enable him to provide a f i r s t interpretation. The
hermeneutic theatre researcher adds (superfluously) that this inter
pretation is 'of course' 'subjective'.

The second stage is the phase of testing the f i r s j intuitive interpre

tation. He will check if every aspect of the interpreted theatre object
maps the f i r s t interpretation. This will be done with the help of an
immanent text analysis: the elements of the object are studied with
respect to the formal, structural and other material characteristics.
The theatre hermeneutic will also check the interpretation with the
help of historical, biographical and socio-cultural data. He (or she)
will carry out an additional text-external study. However, he is
exposed to the not imaginary danger of using these external data as
clues to the final interpretation.

The t h i r d stage is reformulation of the f i r s t interpretation, if neces

sary. This stage is only reached by the correctly working theatre
hermeneutic (correctly within the hermeneutic paradigm, of course).
Apart from the fact that Hermeneutics in itself is a valuable methodol
ogy, and that such correctly working hermeneutic scholars exist and
have provided excellent studies; I have not met one single correctly
working theatre hermeneutic up till now: most of our colleagues stick
to their f i r s t impression.

However, one is entitled to ask them if their interpreting, their

understanding, their explaining has been made testable and con
trollable when they confront us with their statements.

Now that the fulmination has taken place, I would like to pass on to a
more intersubjective treatment of the Hermeneutic Theatre Research. I
will base my division of the field upon Steinbeck (1970).
 36

On the one hand the discipline is taken to be the study of the his
tory of the theatre. In this branch the reconstruction of the theatre
performance as it once took place is striven after. On the other hand
the drama as a literary text is studied (in general in a philological
way). This text is considered the basis - it is called 'the score' - of
the performance. A number of presuppositions are taken as a starting
point, presuppositions that are at least subjective but in any case
uncontrollable.

Within the f i r s t branch the general view is that a performance sur

vives and outlives time, and that it can be reconstructed almost
completely and in its original form with the help of history and ar
chaeology and (traditional) methods generally used within these
fields. Of course, historical, archaeological, archivarial and biobiblio-
graphical materials are indispensable to Theatre Research (see Van
Kesteren 1980 and 1981c). It is hardly possible to describe or study a
performance without taking into account data provided by these
materials. However, they are only to be considered and used as
instruments, and they are completely unfit to reconstruct a per
formance, to 'convert archives into life'; a theatre researcher does
not need to be a Dr. Frankenstein. (Besides, the whole matter is
scientifically irrelevant and false). Dietrich Steinbeck is absolutely
right when he states that such a historical 'Verstehen' makes use,
"ganz u n r e f l e k t i e r t " , of (1970:21): "eines sachlichen Verstehens, das
sich seinerseits nur auf Erscheinungen z u r c k f h r t e , deren Identitit
mit den zu vergegenwartigenden immerhin fraglich ist". It is im
possible to reconstruct the past 'as it has been in reality'. Theatre
history is not able to lay claim to whatever faculty of repeting ob
jectively the past, the acquainted, the recognized and the experienc
ed. Denying this is, as Arno Paul puts it r i g h t l y (1971:56), a form of
mythical thinking that does unjustice to the logic of the Science of
History and to the needs of Theatre Research. He adds that, from a
historical point of view, theatre exists only as a notion, as an image,
as a sketch, and that it exists as that thanks to the 'feeling', the
 37

'experience', the 'empathy' of the spectator. (Through this statement,

the views of Paul - who is not a semiotician nor a analyticist but
rather a dialectic-materialist - appear to be very closely related to
the ones of scrupulous theatre semioticians such as Carlos Tinde-
mans, Bernadette Schreurs, Steen Jansen, Herta Schmid, Marco de
Marinis, Mihai Nadin and myself.) sSo, if one should want to t r y to
reconstruct a performance, one also needs in any case the spectator's
experience, i.e. accounts of i t .

The second branch of Hermeneutic Theatre Research reflects the

opinion that the performance is completely based on the drama t e x t .
As such, Theatre Research apparently is a kind of Literary Studies
(called nowadays, Poetics, a term to be taken in a wide sense).
Then, Karl Vossler is right when he says (1965:231): "Die sogenannte
Theaterwissenschaft ist nicht viel mehr als ein erganzender Anhang
oder Nachtrag zu der Literatur- und Kunstwissenschaft". Vossler is
not r i g h t : I am allowed to say t h i s , because I myself studied 'Litera-
turwissenschaft' and its object 'literature', and I have discovered that
both fields, Literary Studies and Theatre Research, as well as A r t
Studies are fields that differ in techniques or methods as well as in
object. Apart from t h a t , this 'optimism' is hardly inexterminable, for
in various drama and performance analyses that can be called 'modern'
the theatrical manifestation is still confused with the textual one. As
a result the text interpretation is considered equal to the performance
interpretation. Arno Paul has pointed to this 'falsification'. He says
(1971:57) that it is assumed a priori that the 'Gestalt' of the drama
is identical with the 'Gestalt' of the performance.

Besides these two branches of Theatre Hermeneutics, a t h i r d one

exists. Its background is aesthetic-philosophical. Within this branch,
the interpreter searches for the aesthetic 'essence' of theatre, an
'essence' that should be manifested in every element of the object or
aspect of theatre that is considered aesthetic in nature (mind the
circularity in reasoning). He is attempting to set up typologies of
theatre forms on the basis of these aesthetic elements. Studies such
as these are concerned, according to Steinbeck (1970:23), with
 38

den f r die Spielweise einer Epoche verbindlichen Kunstregeln und

charakteristischen Stilformen und ordnen sie bestenfalls einem allge-
meinen System schauspielerischer Verhaltenstypen ein, verlieren indes
kein Wort darber, was denn die Kunstleistung des schpferischen
Schauspielers ihrem Wesen nach kennzeichnet.

This view has caused a lot of methodological misery, not to mention

fights on the relational level between colleagues.

Anyway, this state of affairs needs urgent revision. Scholarly be

haviour such as this needs to be brought into the open and must be
denounced and rebuked publicly (this has already been done by Arno
Paul for instance, and Dietrich Steinbeck in the early seventies). In
order to put an end to these unscholarly and unscientific practices
- still carried out, let us not be mistaken about that - two steps will
necessarily have to be taken. Apart from a more extended form of
critique, or treatment, of the hermeneutic oriented publications on
what Theatre Research ought to be than the present one presented
above, these two steps are: the presentation of the two phases any
discipline such as ours will have to go t h r o u g h . The f i r s t one has
been taken already by some of us: the application of methods from
structuralism, linguistics, and semiotics. I will treat it below in a
rough way. The second phase is taken by means of the present
study; it will be dealt with at length (see of course the Handbook
mentioned). The first one has been called 'Imitative Theatre Re
search'; the second is the 'Analytical Theatre Research'.

2.2. 'Imitative' Theatre Research

One of the activities the traditional theatre hermeneutic undertook

with eagerness and very willingly indeed has been described by
Steinbeck as follows (1970:42):

Ex cathedra werden Einsichten anderer Disziplinen in Wesen, S t r u k t u r

und Beschaffenheit des Kunst- und Sozialphanomens Theater unbe-
sehen verworfen, weil deren spezialisierte Erkenntnisverfahren ein
adaquates Sachverstandnis ausschlssen.
 39

In my opinion the application of methods from other disciplines can

infuse new life into Theatre Research. This has indeed been done
recently (see e . g . the readers by Dez Borque y Garcia Lorenzo 1975;
Van Kesteren und Schmid 1975; Hess-Lttich 1982; Helbo et a l .
(eds.) 1981, and others). However, this kind of research too has a
not at all imaginary danger. It is in fact traceable within a lot; of
publications and papers in which methods adopted from sociology,
psychology, linguistics, poetics, and other disciplines are applied or
merely imitated just like that. Often the fact is overlooked, denied or
not taken into account seriously that these methods are either made
without methodology or, on the contrary, drowned with some implicit
kind of methodology. This danger is caused by the fact that the
borrowed methods themselves lack explicit scientific fundamentals,
and/or because the imitating theatre researcher is not well informed
about problems concerning methodology or technique, and does not
worry about application and analogy. Incidentally, this strategy is not
at all uniquely carried out within Theatre Research. Also more elab
orated disciplines such as Linguistics, Poetics, and Translation
Studies (to mention a few) suffer from this flaw. Andr Lefevere
r i g h t l y fulminates against this strategy as it is pursued within Poetics
and Translation Studies. He says (1978:7-8) that it

consists of merely importing (often without any attempt at integrat

ing) the scientific basis of other disciplines such as psychology,
sociology, comparative religion, linguistics - disciplines which, on
closer inspection, t u r n out to be not at all scientific themselves. . . .
[ I t ] may, in my opinion, safely be discounted. It merely t u r n s
literature into a q u a r r y of materials to be used in the construction of
extraliterary theories.

Although Lefevere has all the rights of the world at his side, I would
like to emphasize that this situation is typically one of transition, one
in which a discipline is reflected upon its nature, its past, and its
f u t u r e . The established policy - whatever it is - is rejected, but the
new one is not yet clear, let alone formulated. What can be detected
is that fellow disciplines are confronted with similar problems, that
fellow researchers have turned to other disciplines in search of ways
 40

of resolving these problems, and that they have borrowed methods

and techniques in a still ad hoc and unreasoned or ill-reasoned way.

This strategy is not the best one; in fact it is a wrong one: the
bitter results can be traced in the present state and course of affairs
within Poetics and Discourse Studies where opportunists such as Teun
Van Dijk, Siegfried Schmidt, Jens Ihwe, Jonathan Culler, Paul Bouis-
sac, Umberto Eco, and their mediocre and blind epigones have been
poisoning generations of literary and discourse scholars, and, after
or through that, theatre scholars (see Van Zoest 1982, and Van
Kesteren and Van Stapele 1982).

Apart from t h a t , the strategy is commonly used, and perhaps it is a

necessary one in order to enable scholars to dissociate themselves
from the established tradition which has nothing more to offer than
the beaten track to the stronghold of the ruling theatre-researchers
class. Besides, the strategy, although not the best one, is still
preferable to the one also quite commonly used within our f i e l d , as I
myself can witness as one of the victims of i t : the strategy of the
sliding aimed at the man and not the ball (see Hogendoorn 1982).

A t h i r d strategy is also practised. James S. Holmes points to the fact

that the attempts at renewal of a field is not (only) made by scholars
from the own discipline, but that it is often started by scholars from
outside the f i e l d . Indeed, a rather common phenomenon within Theatre
Research is the rejection of the ruling tradition by mathematicians,
linguists, literary theorists, and media experts like Solomon Marcus,
Mihai Dinu and Mihai Nadin, Steen Jansen, and Carlos Tindemans, to
mention only some of the prominent colleagues. Holmes describes this
tendency as follows (1975:1-2):

'Science', Michael Mulkay points out [1971:136], 'tends to proceed by

means of discovery of new areas of ignorance'. The process by which
this takes place has been f a i r l y well defined by the sociologists of
science and research [see e . g . Hagstrom 1965:222-226]. As a new
problem or set of problems comes into view in the world of learning,
there is an influx of researchers from adjacent areas, bringing with
them the paradigms and models that have proved f r u i t f u l in their own
fields. These paradigms and models are then brought to bear on the
 41

new problem, with one or two results. In some situations the problem
proves amenable to explicitation, analysis, explication, and at least
partial solution within the bounds of one of the paradigms or models,
and in that case it is annexed as a legitimate branch of an established
field of study. In other situations the paradigms or models fail to
produce sufficient results, and researchers become aware that new
methods are needed to approach the problem.
In this second type of situation, the result is a tension between
researchers investigating the new problems and colleagues in their
former fields, and this tension can gradually lead to the establishment
of new channels of communication and the development of what has
been called a new disciplinary Utopia, that is, a new sense of a
shared interest in a common set of problems, approaches, and ob
jectives on the part of a new grouping of researchers. As W.O.
Hagstrom has indicated [1965:224], these two steps, the establishment
of communication channels and the development of a disciplinary
Utopia, 'make it possible for scientists to identify with the emerging
discipline and to claim legitimacy for their point of view when ap
pealing to university bodies or groups in the larger society'.

The same goes for Theatre Research, so the second situation Holmes
sketches with regard to Translation Studies (Holmes is one of the
instigators of the recent developments within that f i e l d , together with
Andr Lefevere, among others) applies here too.

Next, Holmes mentions three impediments: 1. the lack of a proper

means of communication between colleagues, 2. the attachment of a
name to the field which is generally accepted and used, and 3. the
lack of "any general consensus as to the scope and structure of the
discipline" (Holmes 1975:9).

The similarity between the developments and needs of Translation

Studies and Theatre Research is s t r i k i n g . Two of these impediments
are valid for Theatre Research. First, there is a generally accepted
and used name: 'Theatre Research', 'Theaterwissenschaft', 'Re
cherches thatrales', 'Ricerche teatrale', 'Sciencia del t e a t r o ' , ' T h e a t e r
wetenschap', and so on. It is not an unimportant matter. More im
portant, however, is the lack of an international forum for Theatre
Research in the form of a journal or a yearbook. Although there exist
a number of journals and reviews on drama and theatre such as
The Drama Review, Modern Drama, Travail thatral, Biblioteca teatrale,
T i j d s c h r i f t voor Theaterwetenschap, to mention only some of the
 42

better ones in which now and then articles are published in which the
modern tendencies are reflected, a central and analytically oriented
forum such as a Journal for Analytical Theatre Research is still
lacking although I myself have made attempts to establish such a
journal. Furthermore, during the Second International Congress for
Semiotic Studies at Vienna (1979) an international Newsletter has been
established, the general editor of which is Jean Alter from Pennsyl
vania University. Next, an International Association of Semiotics of
the Performing Arts (IASPA) has been established in 1980 by Andr
Helbo from Brussels who organised the f i r s t conference of the asso
ciation in 1981 (the proceedings of which (see Pegrs 27/28, 1981)
show very evidently the state of affairs within the 'Imitative' Theatre
Research - and therefore the failures of this association and the road
the field must certainly not t a k e ) . Then, a nonofficial but very
fruitful cooperation of Dutch, Belgian and German theatre scholars
has been started in 1980 as well by means of a series of meetings in
which one topic at the time is central and discussed thouroughly, the
instigators of which are Wil Hildebrand, Thomas Kuchenbuch and
Frans Bosboom from Utrecht. Other meetings, mainly French-oriented,
have been organized at Paris (1977, see Pegrs 13, 1978), at Mon
treal, Toronto, Urbino, Bologna, etc. during the past years. Further
more, a number of fine readers have been published, e . g . those by
Pez Borque y Garcia Lorenzo (1975), Helbo (1975), Serpieri (1978),
Hess-Lttich (1982), and the ones edited by Herta Schmid and me
(1975, and the presents one), and the mathematical oriented ones by
Solomon Marcus (1974, and 1977), who stated at the time (1977:207):
"Very stimulating will also be the studies by Franco Ruffini [1974a,
1974b], Steen Jansen . . . (1976), and the very inspired books edited
by Aloysius van Kesteren and Herta Schmid . . . (1975) and by Jos
Pfez Borque and Luciano Garca Lorenzo ... (1975)". Besides, a
number of mainly semiotics oriented journals offer the opportunity to
compile papers and articles concerning theatre research, such as
Poetics 10 (1974) and VI, 3/4 (1977), Sub-stance 18/19 (1977),
Versus 21 (1978), Poetics Today 2, 3 (1981). Moreover, a number of
 43

books on theatre have been published lately in which attempts are

made to present modern approaches to the object, and to establish a
semiotics of theatre and drama (see our Bibliography which closes this
reader). Although they are worthwhile they still show the flaws of
every 'imitative' branch of research as well as the lack of the last
impediment mentioned by Holmes.

This fact is the most important one of the three mentioned above. Our
field lacks any general consensus as to the scope and aims of it,, A
practice that prevents the solution of this problem is the following:
almost every theatre researcher has developed his views on the basis
of a particular method adopted from one field or the other, but he or
she is hardly able or willing to relate the method borrowed to the
ones others prefer and use. Moreover, most of our colleagues lack a
fundamental knowledge of matters concerning methodology and theory
of science. A very clear but disappointing example of this tendency
has been shown during the above mentioned f i r s t conference of the
IASPA. This conference appeared to be the very proof of the need of
the present study as well as of the theses I presented during the
conference itself. They are (see also Van Kesteren and Van Stapele
1981a) the following:

1. On What Theatre Research Is

1. Theatre Research as a scientific discipline does not exist. It is
merely the sum of a number of ad hoc investigations on various
aspects of theatre. These investigations lack interconsistency, the
research strategy is i l l - s t r u c t u r e d , the studies are based on
intuition alone, the intuition lacks brilliance.
2. Theatre Research lacks a proper language. Its terminology is
Babylonic in nature. Its terms are ambiguous. Its phrases are not
well-formed, they do not represent reality relevantly, they are
neither interpretable nor acceptable, they are neither applicable
nor criticizable. The language of Theatre Research lacks a proper
lexicology, syntax, semantics, and pragmatics.
3. Theatre Research lacks in a methodology. Its theory of method, if
it exists at a l l , is not a proper guide-line for obtaining reliable
results. It lacks a system of elementary rules of scholarly be
haviour.
 44

4. Theatre Research lacks a theory which provides a strategy for

doing research on theatre properly. The way in which theatre
aspects are reflected upon and described is not explicitly formu
lated. Knowledge of theatre aspects is neither systematized nor
intersubjectivated.
5. Theatre Research lacks in an Ethics. Its praxis is not considered a
social process; the results are not considered a social product. In
it the opinions and ideals of the theatre scholar about society are
not reflected. It is directed towards maintaining the status quo,
and therefore Theatre Research is a static discipline.

However, it will not be enough to just criticize the state of affairs

within this 'Imitative' Theatre Research. They will have to be followed
by some proposal. In fact they have been succeeded by five more,
concerning 'On What Theatre Research Ought To Be'. They are:

2. On What Theatre Research Ought To Be

1. Theatre Research ought to be considered - and is by nature - an
empirical science. Its objects ought to be described, explained and
predicted according to general principles that are stated in hypo
thetical generalizations and theories.
2. Theatre Research ought to be a think-science, not a do-science.
The thinking about theatre will have to be correct: the scholar
ought to want to gain insight into, and get knowledge of theatre.
This correct thinking will have to be more theoretical than prac
tical: the scholar ought to find ways to analyze or describe
theatre aspects and to develop theories on the basis of which the
analyses or descriptions can be carried out properly.
3. Theatre Research ought to be an intersubjective science. Doing
science intersubjectively is not only based upon general knowledge
or common sense, but is also the communication about theatre
aspects on the basis of a set of systematically ordered well-con
structed terms, statements and arguments.
4. Theatre Research ought to be an analytical science. Its aspects
will have to be described in a proper language consisting of well
defined terms, structured according to a correct syntax, an ad
equate semantics, and an applicable pragmatics.
5. Theatre Research ought to be a consistent science. Its parts will
have to be interconnected. Its aspects will have to be related to
one another. Its program will have to consist of the following five
subfields: 1 . Fundamentals of Theatre Research, 2. Theory of
Theatre Research, 3. Theoretical Theatre Research, 4. Descriptive
Theatre Research, and 5. Applied Theatre Research.
Through these five theses we have come to the t h i r d branch of our
discipline, that of the Analytical Theatre Research. It will be dealt
with in the next part.
 45

3. Analytical Theatre Research

3.1. Introduction

Although it is nonsense to speak of 'the' Analytical theory of science,

and although it has been stated that this direction of methodology is
not the one outside of which there is no 'salvation' ( b u t who says
so?), I would like to introduce it as the one our discipline needs,
for the time being that is, taking into account the state and course of
affairs within Theatre Research.
Why this direction?
I will t r y to give some reasons.

In the f i r s t place because what Dietrich Steinbeck says that counts

for the Humanities in general, does not count for our f i e l d . He states
(1970:8): "Experimentelle Denkmodelle, angeregt durch die Natur-
wissenschaften, haben auch hier Eingang . . . gefunden." What is true
is that methods from all kinds of disciplines have been and are used
(as has been said already in par. 1 1 . 2 . 2 ) . What is not true is that
the Humanities, in particular those concerned with forms of a r t , as
Theatre Research for instance, derive models of thinking from the
more or highly developed natural sciences, and if this is done, the
derivation is not correctly carried out (see e.g. Linguistics or
Poetics).

Secondly, Theatre Research lacks a proper language of its own.

Steinbeck pointed to this already (1970:199), and unfortunately
nothing has changed. The attempt Patrice Pavis made (1980), however
heroical, to compose a 'dictionnaire du thtre', will have to be con
sidered a failure. It is not consistent, the terms are not defined
systematically and within one and the same paradigm. It is just a
compilation of more or less current notions derived from Formalism,
Structuralism, Linguistics and Poetics as well as from Dialectic-
Materialism and Phenomenology the theatre researcher or the scholar
who is doing research on theatre applies to give his analyses the air
of methodically founded ones.
 46

Thirdly, Analytical Theatre Research will be a counterbalance to the

prevailing non-analytical ones such as Theatre Hermeneutics, the
phenomenological approach by Steinbeck for instance, and dialectic-
materialistic ones (see for instance Gttner 1973).

Of course the Analytical theory of science can be criticised, and must

be criticised. It seems to be ready for revision or rejection already
(as happens to any theory), especially the strictly neo-positivist
branch (see Popper's publications; Ayer (ed.) 1959; Lakatos and
Musgrave (eds.) 1970, any many other critical publications within the
Analytical t r a d i t i o n ) .

Three main points of criticism are: its requirement for formalisation,

its striving after a universal language, and its model constructing.
But these activities are exactly the ones that can be traced in con
temporary applications of structuralism and semiotism to Linguistics,
Poetics, and Theatre Research. Apparently activities that are back
dated. Indeed; however, ideally yes, in practice no. Our field still
needs this quite strictly Analytical theory in order to get rid of the
non-analytical tendencies. Apart from that, we will have to take into
account the criticism regarding the application of the analytical view
to Theatre Research. Andr Lefevere for example (1978) is quite clear
in pointing to its flaws and fallibility. His criticism and rejection of
this theory (pp.8-15) ought to be sufficient to abandon the considera
tion of taking the analytical view as a basis for an up-to-date Theatre
Research, above all the strictly logic-positivist branch.
I will not abandon this consideration.
I will not abandon the attempt at building an analytical foundation for
our discipline. Not because I do not believe Lefevere and other
critics. But because I am of the opinion that this theory of science is
needed to desinfect Theatre Research and to free it from hermeneutic
and other non-analytical d i r t . Only after this action the field can be
developed the way Lefevere suggests, and I propose. Only then the
field may properly be called a scientific discipline. Only then one is
able to construct a proper theatre theory. Only then other methodol
ogies can be utilized for proper evolution of the field.
 47

However, things have not yet come to this stage. It is no use, there
fore, to adopt the in every respect useful suggestions and proposi
tions Lefevere makes (1978:18-27). I will come to this in the Hand
book mentioned.

Now is the moment to construct an Analytical Theatre Research.

3.2. Analytical Theory of Science

In every manifestation of the philosophical tradition called 'analytical'

the rejection of 'metaphysics' is manifest. To mention some, Hobbes
(1588-1679) as well as Locke (1632-1704, the so called 'inventor' of
modern semiotics) attack metaphysicism within philosophy and science.
One of the most trenchant fly-outs has been performed by David
Hume (1711-1776). His often and willingly cited statement that fits my
point of view regarding traditional Theatre Research is the following
(from his Enquiries 1979:XII, i i i , 165):

When we run over libraries, persuaded of these principles, what havoc

must we have? If we take in our hand any volume . . . let us ask.
Does it contain any abstract reasoning concerning quantity or number?
No. Does it contain any experimental reasoning concerning matter of
fact and existence? No. Commit it then to the flames: for it can con
tain nothing but sophistry and illusion.

The Logical-positivists, such as Moritz Schlick, Rudolf Carnap, Otto

Neurath, Herbert Feigl, Friedrich Waismann, Edgar Zilsel, Victor
Kraft, Philipp Frank, Karl Menger, Kurt Gdel, and Hans Hahn,
forming together the so called Vienna Circle, felt extremely attracted
to these forerunners. The criticism they had with respect to the state
of affairs in philosophy of science has been applied by me some sixty
years later in order to attack the state of affairs in Theatre Re
search.

Down with the libraries of Theatre Research! Away with them! A l

though, to commit books to the flames is not really my kind of c r i t
icism. As to that I feel more inclined to the members of the Vienna
Circle than to David Hume. Alfred Ayer puts it this way (1959:10-11):
 48

The Viennese positivists did not go so far as to say that all meta
physical works deserved to be committed to the flames: they allowed,
somewhat perfunctorily, that such writing might have poetic merit or
even that it might express an exciting or interesting attitude to life.
Their point was that even so it did not state anything that was either
true or false and consequentely that it could contribute nothing to
the increase of knowledge. Metaphysical utterances were condemned
not for being emotive, which could hardly be considered as objection
able in itself, but for pretending to be cognitive, for masquerading
as something that they were not.

This is exactly the reason for my attacking of traditional Theatre

Research, and of the 'imitative' branch as well: the pretending of
being scientific, or the pretending of being not scientific while per
forming utterances and activities loaded with the air of argumentation
and reasoning. Ayer continues ( i b i d . ) :

Attacks on metaphysics occur fairly frequently in the history of

philosophy. I have quoted Hume and I might also have quoted Kant
who maintained that the human understanding lost itself in contradic
tions when it ventured beyond the bounds of possible experience.
The originality of the logical positivists lay in their making the im
possibility of metaphysics depend not upon the nature of what could
be known but upon the nature of what could be said. Their charge
against the metaphysician was that he breaks the rules which any
utterance must satisfy if it is to be literally significant.

The same applies to Theatre Research. What has been done, and what
is done s t i l l , is to claim to be able to know theatre and to make
statements on the basis of this knowledge. As has been said by Peter
Van Stapele explicitly (Van Kesteren and Van Stapele 1981a): 'we do
not know what theatre is'. Theatre researchers will not have to strive
after f i x i n g the object 'theatre' any longer; they will have to examine,
criticise, falsify the statements about this object, no more no less. If
this is taken to be t r u e , then the statements within Theatre Research
(as within any empirical human science) will have to f u l f i l l a number
of criteria. Theatre Research, its language that is, will have to be
constructed of statements that are meaningful, i.e. either contingent,
synthetical and verifiable (falsifiable) through empiricism, or neces
sary and analytical (see our paraphrases from Nidditch 1968; see also
Rudner 1966). The difference between these two types of statements
 49

is explained by Anthony Flew (1976:385-386) by means of a most

welcome and proper example, to wit a drama dialogue. I would like to
render it here. In consequence of the appearance of the ghost,
Hamlet (Shakespeare's Hamlet, act I, scene 5) says:

There's ne'er a villain dwelling in all Denmark

But he's an arrant knave.

Horatio replies:
There needs no ghost, my l o r d , come from the grave
To tell us t h i s .

Flew explains these clauses as follows (1976:385-386):

There needs no ghost because Hamlet's proposition is analytic and, of

course, logically necessary. What makes it analytic is that its t r u t h
can be known simply by knowing the meanings of its terms, and what
makes it logically necessary is that to deny it would involve self-
contradiction. What Horatio wants is the opposite, a synthetic proposi
t i o n ; one which makes an assertion - the phrase is Hume's - about a
'matter of fact and real existence'. Had Hamlet claimed, unpoetically
and anachronistically, that all Danish villains are the products of
maternal deprivation, then his proposition would have been not ana
lytic but synthetic. It would also have been aposteriori, inasmuch as
it could be known to be true - if it were true - only by reference to
some actual empirical study of the home background of Danish
villains.

This example is indeed important, not only because the language of

Theatre Research, if it exists at all, has not been constructed by
these two types of statements but also because it touches upon one of
the main aspects of analytical t h i n k i n g : the aspect of scientific lan
guage.

The language we use in everyday life is highly ambiguous. As long as

it is used in everyday life situations, no insuperable problems will
arise: we manage all r i g h t . However, if this type of language is used
in science, and it is used in Theatre Research, then problems will
arise, and they have arisen in Theatre Research: we are hardly able
to communicate properly with one another. Our field language, if it
exists at all - it has already been stated, is highly ambiguous, and
unfit for use. The f i r s t thing that has to be done, therefore, is to
p u r i f y our language and to redefine the terms of our lexicon, and the
 50

statements we use to construct our literature of. Besides the aspect

of language, other aspects have been emphasized by analytics as well:
atomicity of the universe, analysis of entities, clearness in analysis,
use of logics, unchangeability of units, value-freedom, and t r u t h of
statements (see Jones 1975, V:89-93). I will treat each of these
aspects here very roughly.

1. The aspect of language has been dealt with above.

2. The analytic assumes that the universe exists of entities - be it
material particles, observable data, or impressions of facts (see for
that matter Peirce too; see the forthcoming Handbook) - entities
that have an interrelationship that is only external in nature.
3. These entities, when they are complex, will have to be analysed
into smallest units. These units are inmediate, substantial, com
prehensible, unambiguous und unchangeable. The analysis will of
course have to be correctly performed.
4. The analysis will lead to c l a r i t y . The analytics strived after clari
fying reality which by nature is complex and obscure. This can be
done by the analysis into smallest units. Next, these units are
confronted with the analist unmedately and directly without inter
ference or inference of his affections such as religion, hope, fear,
f u r y , and the like.
5. The aspect of process regarding universe is kept out of considera
tion: the smallest units are what they are, they do not change.
However, the changeability of the world, its developments, and the
coming into existence of new forms of life (in which the analytic
scholar believes) arises from the potentiality to combine the units
(see also Dinu 1977:209-214).
6. Logics will have to serve as an instrument of analysis; anyway, it
has been the medium of the twentieth-century analytic.
7. Philosophy and Science are two strictly cognitive oriented dis
ciplines. Existential, let alone therapeutic activities will have to be
controlled and kept outside the analysis.
 51

8. The concept of 'interpretation' (Hermeneutics) is rejected because

of its psychologistic character. Also the concept of ' t r u t h ' is prob-
lematised. The analytic accepts or assumes the existence of an ob
jective world, i.e. a 'true' world of objects, that has nothing to do
with the interpretative ability analists have. This w o r l d , however,
is accessible, to wit by means of a clear and correct analysis. The
task of the researcher is to replace false and incorrect statements
about reality by (logically) true statements.
9. The analytical researcher in general is not a socio-philosopher.
This characterization reflects a point of view that one can read in
many studies on Analytical Philosophy of science ( i t is in fact a
false one; see the Handbook again).

Apart from t h i s , these nine aspects form more or less the program of
every analytic. From this tradition the members of the Vienna Circle
have been operating. From it I will make an attempt to construct an
Analytical Science of Theatre. I will not be totally faithful to this
program. But that does not alter the fact that the analytical point of
view is necessary in the stage our field is i n .

3.3. The contents of an Analytical Science of Theatre

On the basis of the preference for the Analytical Theory of Science I

have, in particular the variety of it called Logical Positivism, it is
possible to set up a program for the development of an Analytical
Theatre Research.

As a starting point I will take the division of the field into the five
subfields mentioned; resp. Fundamentals of, Theory of, Theoretical,
Descriptive, and Applied Theatre Research. The nine aspects of the
analytical practice can be connected with these subfields. As a matter
of fact the explicitation, the explanation and the ordering procedure
are part of the subfield of the Fundamentals of Theatre Research.
The view regarding the construction of a theatre-scientific language
(aspect 1) and the existence of interrelated entities (aspect 2) are
 52

part of the subfield of the Theory of Theatre Research. The question

of the analysis (aspects 3, 4, and 5) belong to the subfield of the
Theoretical Theatre Research. Aspect ( 6 ) , which deals with the
instrument of analysis, the view of science as a strictly cognitive
event (aspect 7 ) , and the rejection of 'interpretation' (aspect 8 ) , can
be considered parts of the subfield of the Descriptive Theatre Re
search. Finally, the aspect concerning the value of science in relation
to society, or the ethics of science (aspect 9) belongs above all to
the subfield of the Applied Theatre Research.

As, a whole, the determination of the content of each subfield is a

matter of Fundamentals in itself. I will now determine these contents,
be it in a rough way.

1. Fundamentals of Theatre Research serves the scholar to enable him

to approach his/her discipline in a methodological and theoretical
correct way. This is based upon (aspects of) a General Philosophy of
Science (Analytic in nature; see e.g. Stegmller 1969-1973; also
Lakatos and Musgrave (eds.) 1970, among others). With the help of
this philosophy of science Theatre Research can be developed into a
scientific research (see, again, Tindemans 1980). It enables the
theatre scholar to formulate his aims and goals correctly, to build a
research strategy, to limit and trace the objects (and their aspects)
of his/her study, to construct consistent theories, to make hypotheses,
to systematize them and to test them afterwards, to solve interpreta
tion problems, to apply his findings and to criticize them, etc.

Ic can be complemented or, rather, supplemented, by a number of

basic disciplines such as Logic, Set theory, Mathematics, Argumenta
tion theory, and the like. These basic disciplines provide ways to
formalize the theories that have been constructed, as well as to test
the ways they are built up (see for instance Allwood et al. 1977;
Marcus 1973; Haack 1978).

Furthermore one should have a basic knowledge of Fundamentals of

the Social sciences, the Text sciences, and the A r t sciences: Theatre
 53

Research is a discipline in which aspects from these fields (can) play

an important part because of the mere fact that its object is by
nature a (psycho-)sociological, t e x t u a l , fictional and art phenomenon
(see Ekman and Scherer (eds.) 1981; Goodman 1968a; Opp 1970;
Schnelle 1973, Von Savigny 1976; Woods 1974, Wunderlich 1974; Kum-
mer 1975).

2. Theory of Theatre Research is necessarily based upon the Funda

mentals: within this sub-field the data provided by these Funda
mentals will be applied to Theatre Research proper. From this we can
formulate a methodology of Theatre Research (see Steinbeck 1970;
Tindemans 1979; Van Kesteren 1981b, 1984-5, v o l . I; underlying
paper). By means of aspects of this methodology, problems which
arise from constructing a History of Theatre Research as well as a
Didactics of Theatre Research can be tackled. Furthermore, ways may
be found to make explicit by what methods theatre as an empirical
phenomenon will have to be approached and how they will have to be
used, methods 'caused', so to speak, by the view one has of theatre:
a social phenomenon, a text (taken in its wide sense), a game, an
aesthetic artefact, a piece of mimesis, fiction or a r t or literature, and
so o n .

The basic disciplines mentioned above play a part in directives for

setting up theories of theatre, formulating hypotheses, testing of
statements and arguments, providing a lexicon, defining its terms
and notions and formalizing the theories, etc. (see Marcus 1973:287-
370; ( e d . ) 1974; ( e d . ) 1977).

3. Theoretical Theatre Research (Or Theory of Theatre) can only be

undertaken when the Fundamentals and the Theory of Theatre Re
search are (explicitly or implicitly) formulated. This part of the
program is in fact the central part of the discipline: it will have to
provide a theory of the object of the discipline, 'theatre' (see Jansen
1968; Veltrusky 1977 (= 1940); Mukarovsky 1975 (= 1941); Van Ke
steren 1984-5, v o l . 11). Furthermore the History of Theatre Theory is
 54

part of it (see Schmid 1975; Van Kesteren 1975a, and 1975c; Pfister
1977).

Within the subfield, theatre proper is studied in its two aspects:

theatre as a product or as a sign; and theatre as a process of i n
formation. This theory of theatre (therefore) is in nature Semiotic (in
its broad sense): it is a sign and information theory (see Peirce
1931-1960; Morris 1938; 1946; Koch 1971; Shannon and Weaver 1961
(= 1949), among others).

Theatre as a product or sign will have to be studied on the five

semiotic dimensions of the theory: hyletics: the study of theatre in
its aspects of form; syntactics: the study of theatre in its aspects of
s t r u c t u r e ; sigmatics (the term is Klaus's, 1964): the study of theatre
in its aspects of representation or content; semantics; the study of
theatre in its aspects of interpretation or meaning; and pragmatics:
the study of theatre in its aspects of function for and effect upon its
users. This part of the subfield can be schematized as follows:

structure
|
| syntactics
|
form theatre function/effect
hyletics | pragmatics
|
content | meaning
sigmatics semantics

Diagram 1

This part of the theory will have to be complemented with and com
pleted by the dimensions of information, communication and interac
t i o n : by theatre taken as a process, r e s p . : the study of the theatre
in its aspects of information about theatre from a sender to a per-
ceiver; the study of theatre in its aspects of communication in which
 55

two information processes are involved; the study of theatre in its

aspects on interaction in which two information processes connected
through a relation of coherence are involved. Schematized:

information communication
sender theatre perceiver sender theatre perceiver

perceiver theatre sender

interaction
sender theatre perceiver

perceiver theatre sender

Diagram 2

4. Descriptive Theatre Research (or Theatre Description) is that part

of the program in which concrete theatre phenomena are described or
analyzed (see the bibliographies by De Marinis e Magli 1975; Van Kes-
teren 1975b, and the provided for within the present reader). De
scription will have to be based upon the Theatre Theory. Part of it is
a History, as well as a Methodology of Theatre Description by means
of which problems regarding description operations and description
methods, and application of these operations and methods can be
tackled. Related to these problems is the use of auxiliary disciplines
and their methods in order to enable the theatre researcher to ana
lyze and describe the phenomenon at hand (although problems re
garding application of 'fremdkrperlichen' methods will have to be
faced). Some auxiliary disciplines prove to be more f i t for application
than others. Besides the starting point for analysis plays an im
portant part: will the phenomenon at issue be studies diachronically
(historically), comparatistically, synchronically (typologically), or
theoretically.

Evidently, by describing aspects of theatre we start from the as

sumption that theatre is a sign by means of which people inform one
another, etc. By introducing Information Research (communication and
 56

Interaction Research) to the study of theatre, we follow a tendency

within the field of Folklore Research and Linguistics. Richard Bau-
man says (1975:290):

In a recent collection of conceptual and theoretical essays in folklore,

assembled to indicate a range of new perspectives in the f i e l d , it was
emphasized in the Introduction that the contributions shared a common
concern with performance as an organizing principle (Bauman 1972).
The term performance was employed there, as it was by several of
the contributors to the collection, because it conveyed a dual sense of
artistic action - the doing of folklore - and artistic event - the per
formance situation, involving performer, art form, audience, and
setting - both of which are central to the developing performance
approach to folklore. This usage accorded well with the conventional
meaning of the term 'performance', and served to point up the funda
mental reorientation from folklore as materials to folklore as com
munication [ i . m . ] which characterized the thinking of the con
tributors.

This tendency is certainly not new within our field. In 1970 Ivo
Osolsob introduced the definition of dramatic art as 'communication
through communication about communication' (dramatick dflo jako
komunikace komunikac o komunikac), but hardly no one tried to
develop this proposition in a proper way and applied it seriously to
theatre (see Van Kesteren 1981a; also 1984-5, v o l . I I I ) .

5. Applied Theatre Research (or Theatre Application) is the last part

of the program. It consists of a History, as well as a Methodology of
Theatre Application. Research will have to be done about the way in
which our field in its t u r n can be used as an auxiliary discipline to
other fields, as well as to socio-cultural institutions, persons or
groups, or phenomena which are non-scientific in nature. And if so,
how it can be used as a tool for tackling problems that have didactic,
critical pedagogical, sociological, psychological, theatrical, etc. im
plications (see Van Kesteren 1984-5, v o l . I V ) .
 57

4. Conclusion

The steps mentioned are to be considered necessary steps in order to

construct a kind of Theatre Research that can be called 'Wissen
schaft'; necessary steps, not sufficient steps. A lot needs to be done
yet.

However, it is quite evident that our field needs reorientation re

garding aims and scope, the more if we take into account the history
of the field up till now and the results of the research done as it is
reflected in its literature. As far as I can see, we cannot continue
the way we have been going. We cannot simply pick out a r b i t r a r i l y
phenomena to analyse, and describe it the way we have done before:
intuitively, however brilliant.

If we want to 'raise' Theatre Research properly (and I do) we need

Philosophy of Science. We need Fundamentals, we need Methodology
desperately in order to make our field a dignified, worthwhile and
valuable member of the family of Empirical sciences in general and
Text sciences in particular.

I plea for cooperation, for gathering of forces, for composing to

gether a program in which every theatre scholar has a place in which
he or she functions optimally, and who is capable of testing intersub-
jectively any method used, any analysis performed, any theory con
structed by rejection or by confirmation.

References

Allwood, Jens et a l . 1977

Logic in Linguistics (London: Cambridge UP) (1971).
Ayer, A . J . 1959
'Editor's Introduction', ( i n ) A . J . Ayer ( e d . ) , Logical Positivism
(New Y o r k : Free Press), pp.3-28.
Bauman, Richard 1972
'Introduction', ( i n ) A. Paredes and R. Bauman ( e d s . ) , Toward
New Perspectives in Folklore ( A u s t i n : Univ. of Texas P).
 58

Bauman, Richard 1975

'Verbal A r t as Performance', American Anthropologist 77, pp.
290-311.
Beerling, R.F. et al. 1978
Inleiding in de wetenschapsleer (Utrecht: Bijleveld) (1970).
Bochehski, I.M. 1971
Die zeitgenssischen Denkmethoden (Mnchen: Francke) (1954).
Crombie, A . C . 1953
Robert Grosseteste and the Origins of Experimental Science 1100-
1700 ( O x f o r d : Clarendon P).
De Groot, A . D . 1961
Methodologie (Den Haag: Mouton).
De Marinis, Marco e Patrizia Magli 1975
'Materiali bibliografici per una semiotica del teatro', Versus 1 1 ,
pp.53-128.
Dfez Borque, Jos y Luciano Garca Lorenzo (eds.) 1975
Semiologfa del teatro (Barcelona: Planeta).
Dinu, Mihai 1977
'How to estimate the weight of stage relations', Poetics 6, 3/4,
pp.209-227.
Ekman, Paul and Klaus Scherer (eds.) 1981
Methodology of Nonverbal Communication (in press).
Flew, Antony 1976
An Introduction to Western Philosophy (London: Thames and
Hudson) (1971).
Gttner, Heide 1973
Logik der Interpretation (Mnchen: F i n k ) .
Goodman, Nelson 1968a
Languages of A r t (Indianapolis and New York: Bobbs-Merrill).
Goodman, Nelson 1968b
Safety, s t r e n g t h , simplicity', (in) P.H. Nidditch ( e d . ) 1968,
pp.121-123.
Haack, Susan 1978
Philosophy of Logics (London: Cambridge UP)
Hagstrom, W.O. 1965.
The Scientific Community (New York: Basic Books)
Hanson, N.R. 1959.
'On the symmetry between explanation and prediction', Philo
sophical Review 68, pp.349-358.
Hauff, Jrgen et al. 1971-2
Methodendiskussion. Arbeitsbuch zur Literaturwissenschaft
( F r a n k f u r t / M . : Fischer Athenaum)
 59

Helbo, Andr ( e d . ) 1975

Smiologie de la reprsentation (Bruxelles: Complexe).
Helbo, Andr et al. (eds.) 1981
Semiotics of Performance (Bruxelles: Complexe) (= Degrs 27-29).
Heimer, O. and N.. Rescher 1969
'Exact versus inexact sciences', ( i n ) L . l . Krimerman ( e d . ) , The
nature and scope of social sciences (New Y o r k ) , pp.181-203.
Hempel, Carl 1969
Fundamentals in Concept Formation in Empirical Science (Chicago
and London: Chicago UP) (1952).
Hesse, Mary 1961
Forces and Fields (London: Nelson).
Hess-Lttich, Ernest ( e d . ) 1982
Multimedial Communication (Tbingen: N a r r ) .
Hobbes, Thomas 1839
'Leviathan', ( i n ) Sir W. Molesworth ( e d . ) , The English Works of
Thomas Hobbes (London: Bohn).
Holmes, James S. 1975
'The Name and Nature of Translation Studies' (Amsterdam: Inst.
v . ALW) (1972).
Hume, David 1979
Enquiries concerning the Human Understanding and concerning the
Principles of Morals ( O x f o r d : Clarendon) (1777, 1888).
Ingarden, Roman 1970
Studia z estetyki III (Warszawa) (1923).
Jansen, Steen 1968
'Esquisse d'une theorie de la forme dramatique', Langages 12,
pp.71-93.
Jansen, Steen 1976
Analyse de la forme dramatique du 'Mensonge' de Nathalie Sarrau-
te (Copenhague: Akademisk Forlag).
Jones, W.T. 1975
A History of Western Philosophy, 5 Vol. (New Y o r k , e t c . : Har-
court Brace Jovanovich).
Kindermann, Heinz 1963
'Aufgaben und Grenzen der Theaterwissenschaft', Wissenschaft
und Weltbild 6.
Klaus, Georg 1964
Semiotik und Erkenntnistheorie (Mnchen und Salzburg: F i n k ) .
Knudsen, Hans 1950
Theaterwissenschaft. Werden und Wertung einer Universitatsdis-
ziplin.
Koch, Walter A. 1971
Varia Semiotica (Hildesheim: Olms).
 60

Kuhn, Thomas S. 1970

The Structure of Scientific Revolutions (Chicago and London:
Chicago UP) (1962).
Kuhn, Thomas S. 1974
'Logic of Discovery or Psychology of Research?', ( i n ) I. Lakatos
and A. Musgrave ( e d s . ) , 1970, pp.1-23.
Kummer, Werner 1975
Grundlagen der Texttheorie (Reinbek b. Hamburg: Rowohlt).
Kutscher, A r t h u r 1949
Grundri der Theaterwissenschaft
Lakatos, Imre and Alan Musgrave ( e d s . ) 1970
Criticism and the Growth of Knowledge (London: Cambridge UP).
Lefevere, Andre 1978
'Translation: The focus of the growth of literary knowledge',
( i n ) James S. Holmes et a l . , Literature and translation (Louvain:
Acco), pp.7-28.
Leibfried, Erwin 1970
Kritische Wissenschaft vom Text ( S t u t t g a r t : Metzler).
Lieb, H.H. 1970
Sprachstadium und Sprachsystem ( S t u t t g a r t ) .
Marcus, Solomon 1973
Mathematische Poetik (Bucuresti und Frankfurt/M.: Ed. Acad.
und Athenum) (1970).
Marcus, Solomon 1977
'Editorial Note', ( i n ) S. Marcus ( e d . ) , 1977, pp.203-207.
Marcus, Solomon ( e d . ) 1974
Poetics and Mathematics (The Hague and Paris: Mouton) (= Po
etics 10).
Marcus, Solomon ( e d . ) 1977
The Formal Study of Drama (Amsterdam: North Holland) (= Po
etics 6, 3/4).
Maren-Grisebach, Manon 1975
Methoden der Literaturwissenschaft (Mnchen: Francke).
Morris, Charles 1938
Foundations of the Theory of Signs (Chicago: Chicago UP).
Morris, Charles 1946
Signs, Language and Behavior (New Y o r k : Braziller).
Mukarovsky, Jan 1975
'Zum heutigen Stand einer Theorie des Theaters', ( i n ) A. van
Kesteren und H. Schmid ( H r s g . ) , 1975, pp.76-95 (1941).
Mulkay, Michael 1971
'Cultural Growth in Science', ( i n ) B. Barnes ( e d . ) Sociology of
Science: Selected Readings (Harmondsworth: Penguin), pp.126-141.
 61

Nidditch, P.H. 1968

'Introduction', ( i n ) P.H. Nidditch ( e d . ) , 1968, p p . 1 - 1 1 .
Nidditch, P.H. ( e d . ) 1968
The Philosophy of Science (London: Oxford UP).
Niessen, Carl 1949
Handbuch der Theaterwissenschaft.
Opp, Karl-Dieter 1970
Methodologie der Sozialwissenschaften (Reinbek b. Hamburg: Ro-
wohlt).
Osolsob, Ivo 1970
'Dramatick dlo jako komunikace komunikac o komunikaci',
Otzky divadla a filmu 1 , pp.11-46.
Paul, Arno 1971
'Theaterwissenschaft als Lehre vom theatralischen Handeln', Kl
ner Zt. f. Soziologie und Sozialpsychologie 23, 1 , pp.55-77.
Pavis, Patrice 1980
Dictionnaire du Thtre (Paris: Ed. Sociales).
Peirce, Charles Sanders 1931-60
Collected Papers (Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press).
Pfister, Manfred 1977
Das Drama (Mnchen: F i n k ) .
Popper, Karl R. 1974
The Logic of Scientific Discovery (London: Hutchinson) (1934).
Rudner, Richard S. 1966
Philosophy of Social Science (Englewood Cliffs: Prentice-Hall).
Ruffini, Franco 1974a
'Semiotica del teatro: ricognizione degli s t u d i ' , Biblioteca teatrale
9, pp.34-81.
Ruffini, Franco 1974b
'Semiotica del teatro: la stabilizzazione del senso. Un approccio
informazionale', Biblioteca teatrale 10/11, pp.205-239.
Serpieri, Alessandro et al. 1978
Come comunica il teatro: dal testo alla scena (Milano: il Formi-
chiere).
Schmid, Herta 1975
'Entwicklungsschritte zu einer modernen Dramentheore im russi-
schen Formalismus und um tschechischen Strukturalismus', ( i n )
A. Van Kesteren und H. Schmid ( H r s g . ) , pp.7-40.
Schnelle, Helmut 1973
Sprachphilosophie und Linguistik (Reinbek b. H . : Rowohlt).
Shannon, Claude and Warren Weaver 1949
The Mathematical Theory of Communication (Urbana: Univ. of I l
linois P).
 62

Stegmller, Wolfgang 1969-1973

Probleme und Resultate der Wissenschaftstheorie und Analytische
Philosophie ( B e r l i n : De G r u y t e r ) .
Steinbeck, Dietrich 1970
Enleitung in die Theorie und Systematik der Theaterwissenschaft
( B e r l i n : De G r u y t e r ) .
Tindemans, Carlos 1979
"Aims and Methods of Theatre Study in Belgium", Maske und Ko-
t h u r n 25, 1/2, pp.49-52.
Tindemans, Carlos 1980
'General Methodology of Theatre Study: A Tentative Framework
Concept' (paper read at NIAS, Wassenaar, Holland).
Todorov, Tzvetan 1970
Introduction a la littrature fantastique (Paris: Seuil).
Van der Kun, J . I . M . 1970
Handelingsaspecten in het drama (Amsterdam: Atheneum-Polak en
Van Gennep).
Van Dijk, Teun A. 1971a
Moderne literatuurteorie (Amsterdam: Van Gennep)
Van Dijk, Teun A. 1971b
Taal, tekst, teken (Amsterdam: Atheneum-Polak en Van Gennep)
Van Kesteren, Aloysius 1975a
'Der Stand der modernen Dramentheorie', ( i n ) A. Van Kesteren
und H. Schmid ( H r s g . ) , pp.41-58.
Van Kesteren, Aloysius 1975b
'Einfhrende Bibliographie zur modernen Dramentheorie', (in)
A. van Kesteren und H. Schmid ( H r s g . ) , 1975, pp.318-338.
Van Kesteren, Aloysius 1975c
'Theatre Research; Its History: Russian Formalism, Czech Struc
turalism, French Structuralism' ( m s . ) .
Van Kesteren, Aloysius 1980
'Semio-Logical Approach to Theatre History' (paper read at the
conference of the BCLA, Languages of the A r t s , December,
Canterbury).
Van Kesteren, Aloysius 1981a
De taal van toneel (in press)
Van Kesteren, Aloysius 1981b
Theatre Research; Methodology for a Young Science (in Dutch)
(Diss. Antwerp)
Van Kesteren, Aloysius 1981c
'Theorie van de theatergeschiedschrijvng; een aanzet', ( i n )
Handelingen van het VAL-congres, Naar een nieuwe literatuurge
schiedschrijving: methoden en problemen (mimeo), p p . 1 - 9 .
 63

Van Kesteren, Aloysius 1984-5

Handbook of Theatre Research, 4 Vol. (to be published).
Van Kesteren, Aloysius und Herta Schmid ( H r s g . ) 1975
Moderne Dramentheorie ( K r o n b e r g / T s . : S c r i p t o r ) .
Van Kesteren, Aloysius and Peter Van Stapele 1981a
'27 Theses on Theatre and Theatre Research', Degrs 27/28,
pp.i1-i6.
Van Kesteren, Aloysius and Peter Van Stapele 1981b
'"Semiotiek en Theaterwetenschap'" Tijdschrift voor Theaterweten
schap 8, pp.30-46.
Van Kesteren, Aloysius and Peter Van Stapele 1981c
'Implizite Ideologie; explizite Theorie' (paper read at the 3rd
Kongress der DSG,/ October, Hamburg).
Van Zoest, Aart 1981
'Semiotik en Theaterwetenschap', Tijdschrift voor Theaterweten
schap 8, pp.4-17.
Veltrusky, Ji 1977
Drama as Literature (Lisse: Peter de Ridder) (1940).
Von Savigny, Eike 1976
Argumentation in der Literaturwissenschaft (Mnchen: Beck).
Vossler, Karl 1965
Die romanische Welt.
Woods, John 1974
The Logic of Fiction (The Hague and Paris: Mouton).
Wunderlich, Dieter 1974
Grundlagen der Lihguistik (Reinbek b. Hamburg: Rowohlt).
Zmegac, Viktor und Zdenko kreb (Hr/sg.) 1973
Zur K r i t i k lteraturwissenschaftlicher Methodologie ( F r a n k f u r t / M . :
Fischer Athenum).
11. Theory of Drama and Theatre
 THE ALGEBRA OF SCENIC SITUATIONS

Mihai Dinu

Our older belief that only by increasing the rigour of drama research
one may cut a secured way through the shivering sands of this large
t e r r i t o r y we are called to explore, gave us the courage to take the
risk of signing the most arid chapter of this reader.

Being the results of a thorough reflection on the most elementary,

but not the most non-relevant aspect of the dramatic strategy - the
complete inventory of the character configurations occuring in a
play - the undertaken analysis is different from our previous studies
by the total ignorance of the syntactic implications. Reduced to its
most simple imaginable expression, the problem may now look very
commonplace. What kind of information about the content of a dramatic
work can we get from a simple collection of character sets if we do
not even know the order in which those sets are succeeding one
another?

We would like to think that we achieved our aim if the following pages
can convince the reader not only of the complexity of this so called
~simple~ problem in the study of drama but also of the importance of a
non-verbal component, seemingly so little like the one making the
object of our analysis.
 68

1. Definitions

Let P be a set of elements called characters, 2P - the set of the

parts of P, and F* a subset of 2P .
F* c 2P ,

with the property that for any x P, there is at least a set of char
acters C* E F*, so that x E C*.

By definition, F* is a family of scenic configurations. This notion

emerges from considering the drama as a collection of confrontations
of characters. It is well known that dramatists have always considered
the set of characters to be found every moment on the stage an
essential criterion for defining the frontier between the units that
compose the dramatic t e x t . After ancient practice, the author, at the
beginning of any new scene, enumerates the characters present and
any change in the composition of that set of characters marks the
start of another scene. In this way one associates to the row of
scenes a row of configurations of characters.

The elements C* of the family F* are called marked configurations.

Any subset C of a set C* is a semi-marked configuration. A con
figuration that is semi-marked and/or marked is called at least semi-
marked. A semi-marked configuration which is not marked is an ef
fectively semi-marked configuration. Any non-at least semi-marked
subset of P is called a parasite configuration. An at least semi-marked
configuration C is called omnipresent if for any C* F* subsists
C c C*.

We say that two characters x and y are:

- scenic interferent if { x , y } is at least semi-marked,
- scenic alternative if { x , y } is parasite.

Two scenic alternative characters x and y are called scenic comple

mentary if for any marked configuration C* the set C* { x , y } is
non-empty.
 69

2. Moore-Brainerd closure. 9cenic domination

Given a set T , we say that a mapping r of the set 2T into itself:

X r ( X ) , where X , r ( X ) 2T is a Moore closure if:

1. X r(X)

2. X Y r(X) r(Y)

3. r[r(X)] = r(X).

In the study of the strategy of characters, Barron Brainerd and

Victoria Neufeldt (1974) defined a mapping f of the at least semi-
marked configurations set into itself:

C f(C) = C *
C C*

One may easily verify that:

1'. C f(C)

2'. d C2 f ( d ) ' f(C 2 )

3'. f [ f ( C ) ] = f ( C ) .

In other words, the mapping f is a Moore closure, but defined only

on a subset of 2P i.e. on the set F of the at least semi-marked
configurations.
A configuration C F is closed if f ( C ) = C.
We call maximal dominant of a configuration C the difference
D(C) = f ( C ) - C.
By definition, a set of characters M dominates the configuration C if
it represents a subset of the maximal dominant of C. M D ( C ) . Let
us note this relation by: M C.
Given two distinct characters x and y , if l , we shall say,
without risk of confusion, that the character x dominates the char
acter y. However, we must not forget that the scenic domination
represents a relation between the sets and , and by no means
between the elements x and y . It is easy to show that the domination
is a transitive relation. Indeed, by noting g*(C i .) = one
 70

remarks t h a t the relation C1 C 2 is e q u i v a l e n t t o *(C1) *(C2),

because C1 D(C2) f(C2) = means t h a t C1 is

included in any marked configuration C* *(C2). Then the double

relation C1 C2 C3 is t o r e s c r i b e *(C1) *(C2) *(C3)
and the transitivity of d o m i n a t i o n is an a f t e r m a t h of t h e transitivity
of set i n c l u s i o n .

With t h e h e r e i n t r o d u c e d n o t a t i o n s , t h e t h e o r e m of B r a i n e r d and N e u -
feldt (1974) concerning closed configurations acquires the following
form:

Theorem 2 . 1 . A c o n f i g u r a t i o n of c h a r a c t e r s is closed if and o n l y i f i t

is an i n t e r s e c t i o n of m a r k e d configurations.

Proof: The necessity of the above-stated condition results from the

very d e f i n i t i o n of t h e c l o s u r e . We w i l l d e m o n s t r a t e o n l y i t s s u f f i c i e n
cy.

Let C be an at least semi-marked c o n f i g u r a t i o n t h a t can be written

l i k e an i n t e r s e c t i o n of a n u m b e r of m m a r k e d c o n f i g u r a t i o n s :

C = n Ci* . I t means t h a t C Ci* (i = 1 , 2 , . . . , m ) .

i=1

Then:

m
f(C) = C * n C* = C
i=1

On the other hand, according to the first property of closure,

C f ( C ) hence C = f ( C ) Q.e.d.

Given two semi-marked c o n f i g u r a t i o n s , C1 and C 2 , if C1 C 2 and

C2 Ci we shall w r i t e C1 C 2 and say t h a t C1 and C 2 are
scenic e q u i v a l e n t . Two characters x and y are called scenic equiv
a l e n t if
 71

Theorem 2.2. Let C1 and C 2 be two disjoint configurations. The

necessary and sufficient condition for the scenic equivalence of C1
and C 2 is that they have the same closure: f ( C 1 ) = f ( C 2 ) .

Proof. For proving the necessity of the above mentioned requirement,

let us note the mutual domination between the configurations C1 and
C 2 by means of the sets *(C1) and *(C2).

*(C1) *(C2), *(C2) * ( C 1 ) i.e. *(C1) = *(C2).

Then.

f(C1) ) =

It remains to prove that our condition is sufficient as well. The

identity of closures permits us to write C1 U D(C 1 ) = C 2 U D ( C 2 ) . By
assumption, C1 C2 = and it follows that C1 D(C 2 ) and
C2 D(C 1 ) i.e. C1 C 2 and C 2 C1 or C1 C2.

The comedy Le legs of Marivaux will help us to illustrate step by step

each proposition or other kind of theoretical consideration. At the end
of our article the reader will find a synopsis of the play, where the
subject matter of each scene is preceded by the mention of the set
(configuration) of participants. The characters are designated as
follows: c = the countess, m = the marquess, h = Hortense, k = the
knight, I1 = Lisette, l 2 = Lepine.

The family of scenic configurations associated to the play Le legs is:

By taking into account that among the marked configurations counts

also P = c,m,h,k,I1,I2 , it follows that there are no parasit con
figurations. All the 2 6 = 64 possible configurations are at least semi-
marked.
 72

Table 1 points out for each configuration C the closure f ( C ) and the
maximal dominant D ( C ) . One can see that besides the fifteen marked
configurations there are seven more effectively semi-marked con
figurations that are closed:

{m} , {h} , {k} , {I1} . {I 2 } , {m,l 2 } , { h , I 1 } .

No less then 134 pairs of configurations are contracting mutual dom

ination relations. According to the ( r i g h t or left) position they are
occupying towards the symbol , the 64 at least semi-marked con
figurations are grouping together in four classes:

1. Dominating but non-dominated configurations:

{c} , {m} , {h} , {k} , {I1} , {c,m} , {c,I1} , {h,k} , {h,I1} ,
{c,m,h}.

2. Dominating and at the same time dominated configurations:

{c,h} , {c,k} , {m,h} , {m,k} , {m,I 1 } , {c,m,I 1 } , {c,h,k} ,
{c,h,I1} , {m,h,I1}.

3. Neither dominating nor dominated configurations:

{I 2 } , {c,l2} , {m,l 2 } , {I1I2} , {c,m,k} , {c,m,l 2 } , {c,I1,I2} ,
{h,l1,l2) , {c,m,h,k} , {c,m,h,k,I1} , {c,m,h,k,\1\2} , {k,I1}.

4. Non-dominating but dominated configurations:

{h,l2} , {k,l2} , {c,h,l2} / {c,k,l2} , {m,h,k} , {m,h,l2} / {m,k,I2} ,
{ h , k , l 1 } , { k , l 1 , l 2 } , { c , m , h , l 2 } , {c,m,k,\1} , {c,m,k,l2} , {c,m,l 1
l2} , { c , h , k , I 1 } , { c , h , k , l 2 } , { c , h , \ 1 , \ 2 } , {c,k,\1,\2} , {m,h,k,I1} ,
{m,h,k,l2} , {m,h,I1,I2} , {m,k,l1,l2} , {h,k,l1,l2} , {c,m,h,k,l2} ,
{c,m,k,\1,\2} , {c,h,k,\1,\2} , {c,m,h,\1,\2} , {m,h,k,I,I2} ,
{h,k,l2}.

Obviously, the configurations of the f i r s t class are the most important

ones. They condition the occurrence of other configurations without
being in their t u r n conditioned by the appearance of some steady set
of characters. It must be notices that apart from the valet Lepine, a
character of the second order, created rather for reasons of sym
metry for giving a ~pendant~ to the shifty abigail Lisette, all the
 73

other characters are constituting by themselves configurations of the

f i r s t k i n d . The number of configurations they are dominating becomes
in this case a criterion for classifying the characters. The resulting
hierarchy is:

1. The countess 19
2. The marquis 18
3. Hortense 15
4-5. The knight
Lisette 12
6. Lepine 0

Four configurations containing each two characters belong also to the

f i r s t class. Arranged according to the number of the configurations
they are dominating, these are:

1. {c,m} 6
2. {c,l1} 5
3-4. {h,k}
{h,l1} 3.

Six more pairs of characters belong to the second above defined

class. Simultaneously dominating and dominated, they are occupying a
weaker position in the dramatic plot than the f i r s t four couples. The
difference between the number of configurations they are dominating
and the ones which are dominating them allows ordering this subclass
too:

5. {c,h} 6 (7-1)
6. {m,h} 5 (6-1)
7. {c,k} 3 (4-1)
8. {m,k} 2 (3-1)
9. [m,l 1 -2 (5-7)
10. (k,l1 -4 (3-7)

As for the pairs of characters belonging to the t h i r d class (neither

dominating nor dominated), there are for the moment no criteria to
order them. Therefore we shall consider the places 11-13 of the
couples classification as non-discernable:
11-13. {|1,|2} , {c,l2} , {m,l2}.
 74

Finally, the dramatic importance of the configurations of the fourth

kind is inversely proportional to the number of configurations that
are dominating them.

14. {h,l2} 1
15. {k,l2} 15

We have, thus obtained an almost complete ordering of the pairs of

characters (with the exception of the configurations of the third
class). In a similar way the analysis of the status of richer configura
tions may be carried out. Among the sets containing three elements
there is only one that belongs to the f i r s t class. It brings together
the main characters of the play: {c,m,h}. Within the configuration
{c,m,h,l1}, which adjoins to the preceding the character Lisette is
the single dominating set with four characters (second class). The
presence of three women in this crucial configuration points clearly to
the circle the strings of the plot are pulled i n .

3. Peculiar families of scenic configurations

An uncommon situation appears when one excludes the five initial

scenes of the above analized comedy. In that case the network of
scenic dominations takes the form pointed out by table 2.

The most striking feature revealed by table 2 is that all the effective
ly semi-marked configurations are dominated (we will come to this
later). On the other hand it must be noted that the subfamily of
marked configurations belonging to this fragment of the play has an
unusual property: each product (intersection) of marked configura
tions is a marked configuration as well. We call this property stability
with regard to the intersection. The following theorems offer a
mathematical justification to that empirical remark. With sensibly
different formulations and proofs they are repeating two theorems of
Solomon Marcus (1973) which generalized some of our former results
(Dinu 1970).
 75

Theorem 3 . 1 . If a family of scenic configurations F* is s t a b l e with

regard to intersection, then t h e maximal d o m i n a n t of a n y effectively
s e m i - m a r k e d c o n f i g u r a t i o n is n o n - e m p t y .

Proof: Let C1 be an e f f e c t i v e l y s e m i - m a r k e d c o n f i g u r a t i o n , and

f(C1) = C *
C1 C*

its closure. On the strength of the stability of F* we shall have

f ( C 1 ) F*. In o t h e r w o r d s f ( C 1 ) is a m a r k e d c o n f i g u r a t i o n . But C1
is n o n - m a r k e d and t h e n t h e i n c l u s i o n C1 f(C1) can o n l y be s t r i c t ,
f r o m w h i c h we c o n c l u d e t h a t D ( C 1 ) = f ( C 1 ) - C1

Theorem 3 . 2 . Let F* be a s t a b l e f a m i l y ( w i t h r e g a r d t o i n t e r s e c t i o n )
and let n be a n a t u r a l n u m b e r . If t h e c a r d i n a l n u m b e r of a n y m a r k e d
configuration is g r e a t e r than n, then at least t w o effectively semi-
marked configurations composed of at t h e most n elements are scenic
equivalent.

Proof: A c c o r d i n g t o T h e o r e m 3 . 1 . t h e maximal d o m i n a n t D ( C 1 ) of an
effectively semi-marked configuration C1 is non-empty. Let C 2 be a
s u b s e t of D ( C 1 ) t h e c a r d i n a l of w h i c h w o u l d be n. By assumption,
the configuration C 2 is e f f e c t i v e l y s e m i - m a r k e d and C1 C 2 . In t h e
same way one f i n d s an e f f e c t i v e l y semi-marked configuration C3 so
that C2 C3 and so o n . Finally, we o b t a i n a c h a i n of effectively
semi-marked configurations. C1 C2 C3 . . . Ck-1 .. C.
Ck+1 .... Taking into a c c o u n t t h a t t h e set of semi-marked
configurations is always finite, there are in this c h a i n at least t w o
indexes i and j ( l e t be i < j ) , so t h a t Ci = C j . On t h e o t h e r hand,
j # i + 1 , b e c a u s e , a c c o r d i n g t o t h e d e f i n i t i o n of d o m i n a t i o n , C. # Ci+l .
It follows t h a t Cj C. i+l a n d , in accordance w i t h t h e t r a n s i t i v e n e s s
+1 '
of domination, C. i + 1 C. hence C. ci+l- The seeking for
stable families of configurations is facilitated by the converse to
T h e o r e m 3 . 1 , namely T h e o r e m 3 . 3 .

Theorem 3.3. A f a m i l y of scenic c o n f i g u r a t i o n s F* w h e r e each e f f e c

tively semi-marked configuration is dominated is stable with regard
to intersection.
 76

Proof. Let us suppose that F* is not stable. In that case there is at

least a subfamily F1* F* so that C=

should be an effectively semi-marked configuration.

By examining the closure f(C) =

we shall remark that f(C) C because *(C) c F 1 *.

But, according to the first property of closure, f(C) C and then

f(C) = C or D(C) = 0, i.e. the configuration C is not dominated.
This assertion runs counter to the initial assumption of the theorem.
The filters (in the sense of general topology) are mathematical struc
tures that also own the property of stability with regard to inter
section. Besides the general features pointed out by the theorems
3.1.-3.3. those still possess the following specific properties:

Theorem 3.4. In a filter F* of scenic configurations:

a) There exists one omnipresent non-empty configuration.
b) The non-omnipresent characters do not enter into mutual relations
of domination.

Proof: a) Let us note C * =

o

We shall observe that because(according to the

stability of F*) and 0 F* (from the definition of filters). For
any C* F* we have i.e. is omnipresent.
b) Let C * be the omnipresent configuration and let x,y be two
non-omnipresent characters, and let us note C1* = C * U { x } ,
C2* = . Founded on the property that any set that includes
a set belonging to the filter belongs in its turn to the filter, we may
infer that C1* , C 2 * F*. On the one hand {x} c C 1 * and
{X} C 2 *, and on the other y C1* and y C2*. It means that
neither x y nor y x.
 77

The families of scenic configurations may also be stable with regard to

the sum (union) of sets. The following lemmas permit to extrapolate
to that another class some of the former results.

Lemma 3 . 1 . If a family of scenic configurations F* = {C.* | i = 1 , 2 , . . .

. ..,m} is stable with regard to intersection the family F* = {C C * |
i=1,2,...,m} composed of the complements of the sets belonging to
F* is stable with regard to set union and vice versa.

Proof. One applies the relations of de Morgan.

Lemma 3.2. In a family F* let C be a semi-marked configuration and

let x be a character so that C {x}. Then in the family F* we
shall have {x} C.

Proof: The presence and, respectively, the absence of x from each

marked configuration induce a partition of F* in two disjoint sub
families: F1* = {C* l i | x C * l i } and F 2 * = {C* 2j . | x C * 2 j } . By
assumption, for each j , C C* . It follows that:

{x} C C* for each i,

{x} C C* and C C* for each j ,

i.e. there exists no marked configuration that would contain C.

Corollary: Two characters who are scenic equivalent in F* are scenic

equivalent in as well.

Theorem 3.5. In F* stable with regard to set union let x be a char

acter so that the configuration (P - { x } ) would not be marked. Then
at least one effectively semi-marked configuration is dominated by
{x}.

Proof: According to Lemma 3 . 1 . is stable with regard to inter

section. If (P - { x } ) F*, then {x} . The theorem 3 . 1 . guar
antees the existence of at least one configuration C so that C
{ x } . From Lemma 3.2. it results that in F* we have {x} C.
 78

Theorem 3.6. Let F* be a stable family (with regard to set union)

and let be p the number of distinct characters in F*. If the cardinal
number of any marked configuration is no greater than ( p - 1 ) , then
at least two characters are scenic equivalent.

Proof: Whatever would be x , the configuration {x} is not to be

found in F* because in F* there cannot be a configuration (P - { x } )
composed of ( p - 1 ) elements. Since F* is stable with regard to inter
section (see Lemma 3.1.) it results from the theorem 3.2. the exis
tence in F* of two scenic equivalent configurations, each composed
by a single character. According to the corollary of Lemma 3.2. those
two characters will be scenic equivalent also in F*.

There is in Le legs a sequence of ten scenes (from the tenth up to

and including the nineteenth) that owns an uncommon property: the
configurations of characters corresponding to those scenes are com
posing a stable family with regard to both the intersection and the
set union:

In spite of its apparent poverty the family F* conceals 293 distinct

relations of domination. There are 31 dominating configurations.
According to the number of configurations they are dominating we
may classify them as follows:

1 - 2 . 3 1
3 - 4 . 2 4
5 . 1 6
6 . 1 5
7 - 1 1 . 1 2
1 2 - 1 5 . 8
1 6 - 1 9 . 6
20-26.
4
2 6 . 3
2 7 - 3 0 . 2
31. 1
 79

In that central portion of the play the characters belonging to the

couples of lovers c-m and h-k t u r n out to be interchangeable ele
ments of the dramatic strategy. By replacing the symbols c by m
and, respectively, h by k, and vice versa, in all the above enumerat
ed configurations, the classification remains utterly unchanged. This
fact emphasizes the scenic behaviour similitude of the mentioned pairs
of characters.

Moreover, the characters c and m are also scenic equivalent. The

existence of one pair of equivalent characters results as a matter of
fact from Theorem 3.2. since the cardinal number of every marked
configuration is greater than 1.

The validity of Theorem 3.5. is in its t u r n easily verifiable: the con

figurations {c}, {m}, {h}, {k}, {I1} are all dominated, also conse
quence of the fact that their complements are not marked. In ex
change, (P - { l 2 } ) = { c , m , h , k , l 1 } belongs to F* 1 . It follows that
{l2} cannot dominate other configurations. At the same time all the
characters of the play are dominated, because, whatever be x would
be, the configuration {x} is effectively semi-marked (see Theorem
3.1.). The equivalence {c} {m}, which subsists despite the
existence of a marked configuration comprising (p-1) = 5 characters,
proves through a counter-example that the converse to Theorem 3.6.
cannot be t r u e .

4. Groups of scenic configurations

The stability with regard to the symmetric difference transforms a

family of scenic configurations in an abelian group G = (F*,o).
Through o we have noted the operation:

The zero element of the group is the empty configuration. The recip
rocal of any element is the element itself. The general properties of
the groups of configurations are pointed out by:
 80

Theorem 4 . 1 . In a group of scenic configurations G = ( F * , )

a) There are no omnipresent configurations.
b) All the characters are two by two scenic interferent.
c) If C1 C 2 , then also C 2 C1 ( i . e . the domination implies the
scenic equivalence).

Proof: a) Let C 1 * , C 2 * be two marked configurations and let x be

an omnipresent character. The symmetric difference C * = C 1 * C2*
must also be marked, b u t , by assumption, x C 1 * , C 2 * and, on the
strength of the definition of , x C3*, I. E the character x is not
omnipresent.

b) Let us suppose that the characters x and y are scenic alternative.

Let C 1 * and C 2 * be two marked configurations so that x C 1 * and
y C 2 * . The configuration C* = C 1 * C 2 * is marked by assumption.
We may notice that x ( C * C C 2 *) and y (C C 1 * C2*), from
where

meaning that x and y are scenic interferent.

c) Let us admit that C1 C 2 . There must be at least one marked
configuration C * , for not having C 2 C1, so that C 1 C * and
Co Co* . On ; the other hand,' for any Cii* with C 2 C ii.*,' we also
2
have C1 C * . The configuration C* = C * Ci* being marked may
be transcribed C* = (C * C.*) - (C * C.*). We know that
o i * o
C1 (Co* C i *) hence C1 C*. One can see that C 2 (CO* C.*)
and C2 (C * Ci*), namely C2 C*, meaning that C2 is not
dominated by C1 as we formerly supposed.
The residue classes of a group of configurations, with respect to one
of its subgroups, are subfamilies of configurations, their properties
being pointed out by the next two propositions:

Proposition 4 . 1 . ' Let G = ( F * , be a group of scenic configura

tions and H = (F * , ) a subgroup of G. The necessary and suf
ficient condition for a character x to belong to no configuration of the
subfamily F * is for x to be either absent or omnipresent in any
residue class of the group G with regard to .H.
 81

Proof: A residue class K is characterized by the fact that if

A, B K, then A B H. Let us suppose that x is neither absent
nor omnipresent in K. Then there are two configurations A1 B1 K1
so that x A1 and x B 1 . But this way x (A1 B1) which
runs against our initial assumption. On the other hand, if x is either
absent or omnipresent in K, it cannot belong to the symmetric dif
ference of any pair of configurations from K, being consequently
absent from

Proposition 4.2. Let G = ( F * , be a group of scenic configura

tions, H = ( F 1 * , a subgroup of G, and x , y two characters scenic
equivalent in but not also in Then there is at least one
residue class K of G with respect to H, having the quality that in K
the characters x and y are scenic complementary.

Proof: Taking into account that x and y are not scenic equivalent
in F*, there must be at least one configuration A* ( F * - F 1 * ) for
wich

e i t h e r ( 4 . 1 )
or (4.2)

Supposing we are in 4 . 1 , for a symmetric situation, the demonstration

is similar, with the reversal of the character names. Let K be the
residue class containing A * . We shall have K = {C* A* | C* F 1 *}.
The scenic equivalence between x and y induce to a partition of F 1 *
into two subsets of scenic configurations

The residue class K can be also transcribed.

Noticing that:
 82

we may draw the conclusion that the subclass K1 only accepts con
figurations of x and not of y , whereas K2 only accepts configurations
of y and never if x . Because K1 U K2 = K, it follows that the char
acters x and y are scenic complementary. Among the possible sub
groups of a group of scenic configurations, G = (F*, we shall
find the subgroup consisting of the totality of
marked configurations or an even cardinal number.

The subgroup character of H comes from the stability with re-

even
gard to of the subfamily
and if we note we may write the
disjunctive sum of the configurations
Taking into account that

card - 2card C that is an even number, not matter

what the value of card C is. Thus

Theorem 4.2. In a group G = ( F * , of scenic configurations:

a) The characters that occur only in uneven configurations are scenic

equivalent between them.

b) A set of characters scenic equivalent only in the subfamily of

even configurations is not able to have more than two elements.

Proof: Let x , y be two characters absent from all even configurations.

According to proposition 4 . 1 , in the residue class of the
group G with regard to the subgroup H the char
acters x and y have to be both omnipresent (they cannot be absent
from because in this situation they would be parasite). But
any configuration C* F* is either even, and in this case x , y C*,
or uneven, then x , y C* which represents just the condition of
scenic equivalence of the characters x and y .

b) According to proposition 4.2, if x y only in there

must be a residue class in which x and y may be scenic complement
a r y . But G has only one residue class with respect to and this
 83

one is F* A t h i r d character z being scenic equivalent with x

uneven
and y in F* would be complementary in F* with regard to
even uneven
two complementary characters, which is absurd.
Given a family F* of scenic configurations, we shall call group of
configurations generated by the family F* by means of the law the
smallest set grp ( F * ) of parts of the character set P, stable with
regard to having the property that F* grp(F*).

Theorem 4.3. In g r p ( F * ) the relations of scenic equivalence from

F* are preserved, but not the relation of unilateral domination be
tween characters.

Proof: Let us suppose that x y . In g r p ( F * ) any element has the

form C' = C 1 * C 1 * with C 1 * , C2* F * . Four distinct situations
may occur as follows:

1. x , y C 1 * and x , y C2*

2. x , y C1* and x , y C 2 *

3. x , y C 1 * and x , y G C 2 *

4. x , y C1* and x , y e C 2 * .

From the cases 1 . and 2. results x , y C', whereas from 3. and 4.

results x , y C', i.e. x and y remain scenic equivalent. If x y
and y x , this means that for a n y s o that we
also get x but there is at least one marked configuration
for which:

(4.3)

Among the g r p ( F * ) configurations there is also Out

of the symmetric difference definition we get:

x C' and y C' (4.4)

The membership relations (4.3) and (4.4) show that x y and

y x , namely the domination from F* was not preserved in
grp(F*).
 84

Proposition 4.3. Let F* be a family of scenic congifurations and F *

as subset of F* stable with regard to the intersection. The subgroup
g r p ( F * ) of the group g r p ( F * ) is a boolean r i n g , having as multi
plicative law the intersection of configurations.

Proof: It is known that is distributive with regard to the sym

metric difference Let |grp(F * ) | be the subiacent set of the
group generated by the family of configurations Let us show
that |grp is a stable set with regard to intersection.

Let A , B |grp There are then four marked configurations,

distinct or not, C1* , C 2 * , C 3 * , C 4 * , so that A = C 1 * C 2 * and
B = C3* C4*. Taking into account the d i s t r i b u t i v i t y of with
regard to we shall have: A B = (C1* C 2 *) (C3* C 4 *) =
= (C1* C 3 *) ( C 2 * C 3 *) (C2* C 4 *) and one notices that each
addend of the disjunctive sum belongs to the set namely
A B |grp

The following property enables the extension of some previous results

to the rings of scenic configurations.

Proposition 4.4. The subiacent set R of a ring of scenic configura

tions A = ( R , forms a topology on the set P of the charac
ters.

Proof: By assumption we are given the stability with regard to the

intersection of the family R. We also know that R in its quality
of zero element of the law For C 1 * , C 2 * R we get C 1 * C2* R
and C 1 * C 2 * R. The set union of the configurations C 1 * and C 2 *
may also be transcribed C1* C2* = ( C 1 * C 2 *) (C1* C 2 *)
hence the family R is closed also with regard to . Then

and all the conditions from the definition of a topology are f u l f i l l e d .

 85

It follows that a ring of scenic configurations has all the properties of

the families of stable configurations with regard to and
presented in paragraphs 3 and 4. Thus, if F* is the family of mark
ed configurations of the play Le legs by Marivaux, the group gen
erated by them G = g r p ( F*) will be just the set of the parts of P,
namely, in our situation, the set F of the at least semi-marked
configurations. We have shown above that among the subgroups of
such a group, the subgroup of its even configurations is also
counted. Let G1 be this subgroup.

In table 3 we marked with K the residue class of the group G with

regard to the subgroup G1, which is the set of all at least semi-
marked uneven configurations.

Marking by G 2 = g r p ( F * ) the group generated by the set of even

marked configurations, one can see that this is a proper subgroup of

The fact that G 2 does not coincide with G1 is the consequence of the
existence in F* of some uneven configurations. In the structure of
G1, apart from the fact that some sets are symmetric differences of
even configurations, common with G 2 , there are also sets resulting
from the sums of the kind uneven uneven = even. These are
forming the residue class of the group G1 with regard to its
subgroup G2. Let G 3 be the group generated by the set F 1 * = {
{c,m} , { h , k } , {l1,l2} } consisting of the 3 couples of characters
forming the pillars of the plot, and of the empty configuration.

Because the generating set is formed only of even configurations, G 3

is a subgroup of G 2 . The stability with regard to the intersection of
the set F 1 * gives to the group G 3 the quality of a ring (proposition
4.3). Its subring G 4 = ( { . , {c,m} , { h , k } , { c , m , h , k } , , ) is
an ideal, having the uncommon property that all its non-empty
elements are marked configurations. The characters participating to
this ideal are the four protagonists of the play and they are behaving
here as characters scenic equivalent two by two: the Countess with
the Marquess, and Hortense with the Knight. The same relations are
preserved in the ring G 3 where the couple of scenic equivalent char-
 86

acters Lisette - Lepine is added. According to proposition 4 . 1 , these

4

two, absent in G 4 , are omnipresent in the residue class K1 of the

ring G 3 with regard to the ideal G 4 . Nebertheless, the association of
the characters inside the ring G 3 , corroborated by the impression of
reading proves that the ring G 3 in general, and its ideal G 4 in
particular, represents the kernel of the plot, the keystone of the
play's architecture.
Special stress is given to the relation between Hortense and the
Knight. These two characters remain scenic equivalent not only in the
ring G 3 , but also in the group G 2 generated by the set of even con-
2
figurations. According to proposition 4.2 in the residue class K1 of
the group G1 with regard to the subgroup G 2 , the characters h and k
are scenic complementary. Theorem 4.2 gives the certitude that in G 2
there cannot be a t h i r d character scenic equivalent with the charac
ters h and k.
Confirmed by Theorem 4.3 (according to which only the relations of
scenic equivalence are preserved in the generated group, and not
those of unilateral domination from the set of generating configura
tions) is the fact that the domination {c} {m} from F* was
even
lost in G 2 = g r p ( F * ) while the equivalence {h} {k} is pre
served as such.
According to proposition 4.4 the set of configurations belonging to
the ring G 3 sets up a topology, which allows the application to this
ring of configurations of the theorems 3 . 1 , 3.2, 3.5 and 3.6. Indeed,
in the ring G 3 :

1. All the 56 effectively semi-marked configurations are dominated

(Theorem 3.1).
2. Taking into account that no configuration of the form {x} is mark
ed, there are scenic equivalent characters: {c} {m} ,
{h} {k} , {l 1 } { l 2 } (Theorem 3.2). The same property
results from Theorem 3.6 starting from the observation that no
marked configuration has its cardinal number p - I = 5.
3. From the absence of the marked configurations of the form
(P - { x } ) we draw the conclusion that all the characters are
dominating (Theorem 3 . 5 ) .
 87

f(C) D(C) f(C) D(C)

{} {c} {m,h,l1} {c,m,h,k,l1 } {,}

{m} {m} {m,h,l2} {c,m,h,k, l1,l2} {c,k,l1}
{h} {h} {m,,l1} {c,m,h, k l1 {c,h}
{} {k} {m,k,l2} {c,m,h,k,l1,l2} {c,h,l1
{l1} {l1} {m, l1,l2} {m,l1,l2}
{l2} {l2} {h,k,l1} {,m,,k,l1} {c,m)
{c,m} {c,m} {h,k,l2} { c , m , h , , l1,l2} {c,m,I1
{c,h} {c,m,h} {m} {h,l1,l2} {h,l1,l2}
{c,k} {c,m,k} {m} {k,l1,l2} {c,m,h,k,l1,l2} {c,m,h}
(,l1} {c,l1} {,m,h,l1} {,m,,,l1 {}
{c,l2} {c,l2} {,m,h,l2} {c,m,h,k,l1,l2} {k,l1}
{m,h} {c,m,h} {c} {c,m,k,l1} {c,m,h,k,l1} {h}
{m,} {c,m,k} {c} {c,m,k,l1} {c,m,h,k,l1,l2} {h,l1}
{m,l1} {,m,h,k,1} {c,h,k} {c,m,l1,l2) {c,m,h,k,l1,l2} {h,k}
{m,l2} {m,l2} {c,h,k,l1} {c,m,h,k,l1 {m}
{h,k} {h,k} {c,h,k,l2} {c,m,h,k,l1,l2} {m,l1
{h,l1} {,2} {c,h,l1,12} {c,m,h,k,l1,l2} {m,k}
{h,l2} {h,l1,l2} {l1} {c, k,l1,l2} {c,m,h,k,l1,l2} {m,h}
{k,l1} {c,m,h,k,l1} {c,m,h} {c,m,h,k,l1 {}
{k,l1} {c,m,h, k,l1,l2} { c , m , , 1 } {m,h,k,l2} {c,m,h,k,l1,l2} {c, l1}
{l1,12} {l1,l2} {m,h,l1, l2} {c,m,h,k,l1,l2} {,}
{,m,h} {,m,} {m,k,l1,l2} {c,m,h,k,l1,l2} {,h}
{,,} {c,m,k} {h,k,l1,l2} {c,m,h,k}
{c,m,l1} {c,m,,k,l1} {,} {c,m,h,k,l1} {c,m,h,k,l1,l2}
{,m}
{ , m , 12} {c,m,l2} {c,m,h,k,l2} {c,m,h,k,l1}

{,h,} {,m,,} {m} {c,m,k,h,l2} {c,m,h,k,l1,l2}
{l 1 }
{c,h,l2} {c,m,h,k,l1} {m,} {c,h,k,l1,l2} {c,m,h,k,l1,l2} {h}
{,,l2} {c,m,h,l1,l2} {m,,1} {,,h,l1,l2} {c,m,h,k,l1,l2} {m}
{c,k,l1} {,m,,,l1} {m,h} {m,h,c,l1,l2} {c,m,h,k,l1,l2} {k}
{,,l2} { c , m , h , , 1 1 , 12} {m,h,k,l1,l2} {c,m,h,k,l1,l2} {}
{c,11,12} {c,l1,l2} {c,m,h,k,l1,l2} {c,m,h,k,l1,l2}
{m,,} {c,m,h,k} {}

Table 1 : Configurations ( ) , closures ( f ( C ) . a n d maximal d o m i n a n t s ( D ( O ) )

 88

C D(C) D(C) D(C)

{} {c,m,h} {c,m,h,l1} {}

{m} {} {,m,} {c,m,h,l1} {k,l1}

{h} {c,m} {c,m,l1} {,) {,m,,l1} {}

{} {c,m} {c,m,l2} {c,m,k,l2} {,l1}

(l1) {} {c,h,k} {m} {c,m,l1,l2} {,}

{l1} {} {c,h,l1} (m,} {c,h,k,l1) {m}

{c,m} {c,h,l2} {m,k,l 1 } {c,h,k,l2} (m,l1)

{c,h} {m} {c.k,l1} {m,h} {c,h,l1,l2} {m,k}

(,} {m} {c,k,l2} {m,h,l1} {c,k,l1,l2} {m,h}

{ c , l 1 } {c,l1,l2} {m,h,k,l1} {}

{c,l2} {m,h,} {c} {m,h,k,l2} {c,l1}

{m,h} {} {m,h,l1} {c,k} {m,h,k,l2} {c,k}

{m,} {} { m , h , l2} {c,k,l1} {m,k,l1,l2} {c,h}

{m,l1} {,h,} {m,k,l1} {c,h} {,,l1,l2} {c,m}

{m,l2} {} {m,k,l2} {c,,l1} {c,m,h,k,l1}

(h,} {,m} {m,l1,l2} {,h,} { , m,h, , 12} {li}

{hJi {c,m,k} {h,k,l1) {c,m} {, m,, l1,12} {h}

{h,l2} {c,m,k,l1} {h,k,l2} {c,m,l1} {,h, ,l1, 12} {m}

(MU {,m,h} {h,l1,l2} {c,m,k} {,m,h,l1, 12} {k}

{k,l2} {c,m,h,l1} {k,l1,l2} {c,m,h} { m , h , , 1 , 2} {c}

{1/1} {c} {c,m,h,k} {,m,h, ,l1, 12}

Table 2: Configurations (C) and maximal dominants ( D ( C ) ) ; the five first scenes
excluded
 89

{c,m}* {,}* {c,m,h,k}*

G3
{l1,l2}* {c,m,,l1,l2} {h,k,l1,l2} {C,M,HK,l 1 ,l 2 }*
G2
{c,l1}* {m,l 1 } {,h,,l1} {m,h,k,l 1 ,l 2 }

{c,l2}* {m,l2} {,,,12} {m,h,k,2}

G1
{c,h} {m,h} {,} {m,}

{c,h,l1,l2} {m,h,l1,l2} {,,11,12} {m,,l1,l2}

(h,l1} {,m,h,l1} {k,l1} {c,m,k,l1}

{,12} {c,m,h,l2} {,12} {c,m,k,l2}

G
{}* {m} {,,} {m,h,k}

{c,l1,l2}* {m,l1,l2}* {c,h,k,l1,l2} {m,h,k,l1,l2}

(l1) {c,m,l1} {h,k,l1} {c,m,h,k,l1}*

{l2} {c,m,l2}* {,,12} {c,mr h, k,l2}

{h} {m}* {} {c,m,k}*

{h,l1,l2}* {,,h,l1,l2} {c,m,k, l1,l2}

{k,l1,l2}
{c,h,l1} {m,h,l1} {,,l1} {m,k,l1}

{c,h,l2} {m,h,l2} {c,k,l2} {m,k,l2}

Table 3: Group (G) generated by the family of marked configurations ( F * ) ,

and its subgroups
 90

Appendix: Synopsis of the comedy Le legs of Marivaux:

C1 = { h , k } : h reminds of the clause in the will through which m is

obliged to give something of the fortune inherited to h if he does not
marry her. She alleges that m loves so that he will easily give up
that sum of money. On the other hand, has some doubts.

C2 = { h , l 1 , l 2 } : h tries to find out from l1 and l 2 what m's feelings

for are. I2 promises to act (if rewarded) in favour of their
marriage. l1 simply stays aloof of this matter.

C3 = { l 1 , l 2 } : l2 avows his love for l1 and asks her help to mediate

the marriage between m and c; l1 rejects him.

C 4 = {m,1 1 ,1 2 }: m asks l1 to intercede for . l1 refuses but l 2 prom

ises to help him.
=
C5 {11,12}: a new declaration of love made by l 2 to l1 and her
mocking answer.
=
C6 { , 1 } : l1 informs that m loves her and advises her to avoid
him. cannot hide her love for m and tries to get rid of l 1 .

C 7 = {}: complaines to the audience of l1 insistence.

=
C8 {c,l2}: l2 announces m's a r r i v a l .

C 9 = { c , m , l 2 } : l 2 introduces m.
=
C10 { c , m } : c urges m to confess his love. As he is shy, m mumbles
and thinks he has been rejected.

C11 = {c,m,h}: h asks m what was his decision with regard to the
provisions of the w i l l , m answers by proposing to h.
=
C12 { c , m , h , k } : h informs about m's decision. To give away the
lack of sincerity of m's proposal both of them insist on hastening the
marriage.
=
C13 { c , m , h , k , l 1 } : h asks l1 to send l 2 for the notary.
=
C14 {c,m,h,k,l1,I2}: I 2 tries to postpone the task he was asked to
f u l f i l l . When he sees he cannot help he refuses to go to the notary.
 91

each of them continues to play his role.

advises m to leave h and she promises to lend him the

necessary sum of money.

m gives h half the sum necessary f o r giving up the

marriage. Certain of the fact that m does not want to marry her and
that consequently she does assume any r i s k s , h rejects the proposal.

asks to intercede f o r her t r y i n g to persuade h to

give up the marriage. But pretends to accept the state of affairs
and refuses to interfere any longer.

insists that m should give up his marriage with h .

But m, thinking that would not like him as a husband anyway,
prefers to lay hands on the money by marrying h .

complains of m's misunderstanding.

I 2 explains to the reasons of I 1 's opposition to an

eventual marriage of C.

I 2 warns l1 against the scandal ready to b u r s t .

seeing how the wind blows l1 seems delighted at a

possible marriage of with m.

irritated by m's awkwardness, who confesses his love

but thinks he is rejected, finally tells him straight that she wants
him as her husband.

the good news is spread; all are delighted, h

will marry and l1 will marry l 2 .

References

Brainerd, Barron, and Victoria Neufeldt 1974

'On Marcus' methods for the analysis of the strategy of a play',
Poetics 10, pp.31-74.
 92

D i n u , Mhai 1970
'Contributions a l'tude mathematique du t h a t r e ' , Revue r o u -
maine de mathmatiques pures et appliques 15, p . 4 .
Marcus, Solomon 1973
Mathematische Poetik ( B u c u r e s t i , F r a n k f u r t a . M . : Ed. Academiei,
Athenaum) (= 1970, Poetica matematica).
 EVIDENCES ET STRATEGIES DE L'ANALYSE THEATRALE

Andr Helbo

1.

Si la semiologie est loin d'accder aujourd'hui a son re conciliaire,

l'ide d'une mthodologie comparative inscrite dans un champ con-
trastif fait cependant de plus en plus son chemin.

La tendance au brassage se remarque en premier lieu dans les t e n -

tatives de dfinition par la filiation historique; Jakobson, s'inspirant
du modle linguistique, propose une refrence au signe (notion dite
gnrique englobant des ensembles particuliers de signes) qui renvoie
1
a Locke, Lambert, Bolzano, Husserl, Peirce, Saussure, Cassirer .
Sebeok suggre une multiplication des rseaux qui reste sans doute
tributaire de la communication: ia dette saussurienne (et ses cran-
ciers linguistques) ctoie les hritages philosophique (Locke, Peirce,
2
Morris) et mdical (Hippocrate, Empiricus, Locke, Foucault) . Grei-
mas, entre autres, propose d'largir les grilles aux systmes non
linguistiques et de s'interroger moins sur l'inventaire du signe que
sur la production (conceptualisation et organisation) de la significa
tion. Dbat ouvert encore sans doute sur les rapports entre sman-
tique et smiotique mais dont une conclusion parat en tout cas avre:
la smiologie s'est mancipe du signe, elle n'a plus honte de ses
transferts mthodologiques et tente au contraire de mesurer sa per
tinence au controle de ses manipulations. La smiologie du thatre a
subi la marque de ces mutations historiques: d'abord aborde en
 94

termes de segmentation et de grilles, elle s'est affirme plus tard

dans sa pluricodicit et il faut bien Ie dire comme discours p a r t i -
culirement complexe.

On a longuement pilogu dja sur la multiple appartenance du phno-

mne thatral: ressortissant tout a la fois a la narrativit, a une
interaction de codes non verbaux et a l'change de pulsions; on a pu
considrer Ie theatre comme un medium conomique focalisant tous les
modles de l'approche smiologique et qui chapperait a celle-ci en
mme temps. Que dire d'un propos qui excderait les limites du
thatral pour aborder celles du spectaculaire: Ie visage de Janus
texte/reprsentation ferait place a un rseau de figures infiniment
plus complexe englobant entre autres Ie dispositif v u / p e r c u , v e r b a l /
non verbal, etc.

Nous avons tent en d'autres lieux (1983) de dceler, derrire Ie

regard port sur Ie thtre, l'empreinte d'une forclusion sans cesse
rvoque de la reprsentation, du non textuel; notre propos ne con-
siste pas a revenir ici aux motivations sociologiques, souvent trom-
peuses, de l'allgeance au texte; nous voudrions plutt tablir un
parallle entre l'ambition de la smiologie et celle de la thatrologie.
Nous esprons ainsi pouvoir interroger la pertinence de l'analyse
smiologique face au fait thatral.

2.

Dans son ouvrage sur les discours et les sciences sociales, Greimas
opre une partition des discours scientifiques; celle-ci reprend "la
double dfinition, classique, de la v r i t , la premire l'identifiant
avec la cohrence interne, la seconde la fondant sur l'adquation du
langage a la ralit qu'il dcrit" (1976: 20).

Le partage qute scientifique/adhsion au rel parait fond en critique

thatrale: la tradition bibliographique dans le domaine souligne l'infla-
tion rcente de la premire dmarche, celle de l'inquitude. Alors
mme que la smiologie du thatre semble avoir initialement fait bon
 95

march de ses pralables mthodologiques pour se polariser sur la

segmentation de son objet, elle s'puise aujourd'hui dans Ie mode du
questionnement. La procdure est d'importance car elle signale a quel
point la thatrologie semble voluer a rebours par rapport a la narra-
tologie; rversion illustrative du sentiment selon lequel l'objet a
dcrire chappe sans doute a une saisie innocente. S i , a travers les
recherches rcentes sur Ie thatre, l'nonciateur de la recherche se
prend aussi pour son propre destinateur, une question subsiste:
l'illusion de l'objet n'est elle pas en train de se repter a propos du
sujet; la cohrence interne d'un discours sur Ie theatre est-elle pos
sible sans plus?

De mme que l'objet-thatre apparait comme alatoire, l'ide mme

d'une thorie theatrale dfie la contnuit: plus encore ici qu'ailleurs,
Ie sujet demeure prsent dans son discours mais il se dtruit et se
reconstruit constamment. La prise de parole sur Ie thatre ne se
spare pas d'une pratique du thtre: l'nonciateur tant tour a tour
assimil au spectateur postul dans Ie spectacle ou identifi a l'in-
stance assistant au spectacle, a I'acteur, au metteur en scne. Le
critique de thtre inscrit ses voix dans un jeu de situations qui le
contraint a la performativit. De plus, ces situations sont multiples et
mouvantes: intrications de dialogues alterns entre acteur, entre
acteurs et auteurs, entre acteurs et spectateurs, etc.

3.

Prenant position par rapport aux theses de Greimas, Jacques Leen-

hardt crit (1982): "II faut au contraire considrer le sujet du savoir
lui-mme comme construit par rapport au su et comme se construisant
par rapport au rcit de sa qute ( . . . ) . On admettra donc, avec la
smiotique du texte critique, que le discours des sciences humaines
prend les formes du rcit, mas on veiillera aussi a montrer comment
dans ces rcits, se construit le sujet de ce savoir, bien loin que s'y
affiche un simple simulacre." La perspective constructiviste de Leen-
hardt intresse particulirement le thtre o le spectateur - et a
f o r t i o r i le critique - se trouve impliqu dans un mouvement d'insertion
 96

rtroactive: pour I'acteur la parole est un mode d'action, pour le

spectateur sa seule prsence dans l'aire thatrale, Ie respect des con
ventions, la participation publique et ventuellement dramatique
renvoient au mme mode d'action. Le collectif d'nonciation revt une
dimension performative en dialogue constant avec la programmation
spectaculaire. Toute critique thtrale, qu'elle soit smiologique ou
non, doit donc assumer son determinisme et faire merger en premier
lieu la spcificit de son contrat; plusieurs instances sont aux prises
dans l'attitude critique qui ne saurait tre assume autrement que par
une personne plurielle:
- le critique s'identifie d'abord a une conscience spectatorielIe
flanque de son double fantasm (d'acteur en puissance),
- le critique lit/lie le processus de rversion entre l'opration cra-
trice et la figure culturelle (de rception),
le critique porte des jugements de grammaticalt sur la langue
spectaculaire.
Le travail critique s'organise suivant plusieurs axes de participant,
de tmoin et de juge.

4.

On ne discutera pas ici d'une definition de la cohrence thorique

voque par Greimas, on sait qu'elle s'assimile chez ce dernier au
dploiement narratif; le partage propos permet un distinguo pertinent
entre:

l'objet de connaissance,
l'isotopie de lecture (interprtation),
le mta-discours qui fomente l'isotopie de lecture.

Les dernires oprations sont souvent les plus ignores; la tentation

est forte de masquer la prcomprhenson de l'objet, d'luder la
reduction des ambiguits.

En particulier dans le domane du thtre, la catgorie de la mimesis

est souvent l'alib d'une fausse innocence: prenant prtexte d'une
antriorit imit/imitant, la recherche thtrale perd de vue que la
 97

scne produit ce qu'elle prtend reproduire. L'erreur du discours sur

le thtre est prcisment la censure des conditions de productivit
thtrale. Au cours de la reprsentation a lieu une exprience dia-
logique dont on ne peut rendre compte que dans l'instant: pulsions
des spectateurs, jeu subtil d'interactions salle-scne, prgnance de
l'aire et du temps spectaculaires (confirme par l'entracte, etc.) font
d'une rflexion sur le sujet le registre prioritaire de la smiologie
thtrale. Comment se contenter ds lors d'une lecture potico-
narrative, protocole de convergence entre univers du personnage et
univers de lisant; l'nonciation thtrale est imprativement collective
et ses manques (les lacunes du personnage face la mmoire-con
science du spectateur) en soulignent le caractre factuel et phnom
nologique.

Compte tenu du contexte dans lequel la critique thtrale ne peut

viter de se situer, la tche essentielle de l'analyste se dfinira
comme insertion dans un collectif d'nonciation. Instigation du sens,
dlgation du dsir, le procs spectaculaire devra en premier lieu
faire l'objet d'une approche dfinitoire. Celle-ci, pour atteindre son
autonomie, doit prendre conscience des multiples prsuppositions du
phnomne thtral:
1) une prsupposition rfrentielle se rapportant en l'occurrence au
seul monde possible de la reprsentation in praesentia,
2) une prsupposition pragmatique: les rgles conditionnant l'intel
ligibilit, le rgime de croyance propres l'vnement thtral.
C'est seulement l'intrieur de ce cadre que se prciseront les
comptences nonciatives: ouvrir l'apptit, faire croire, inter
prter, lgitimer le pouvoir, etc.
3) une prsupposition lexicale fixant les rpres du sens collectif.

5.

Lorsque l'on tente de dfinir le discours spectaculaire, on chappe

difficilement la catgorie du paradoxe. Une premire saisie abor
derait le procs thtral en termes de dlgation de savoir par un
auteur un medium scnique s'adressant au spectateur. Une deuxime
 98

hypothse renverserait le mouvement du mandat: le spectateur trans

met l'instance scnique (et l'auteur) un pouvoir spculaire, celui
de lui communiquer l'image de son propre dsir. Dans les deux cas se
perptue la double contrainte d'une interaction logique: un des inter
locuteurs dispose d'une information de premire main lui permettant de
rgir l'ordre de la communication. Cette circularit sans ambages est
sans doute hautement contestable par le partage tranch et les mdia
tions qu'elle tablit. Si la contradiction anime le thtre, il est hasar
deux d'en prvoir une rsolution logique, le spectacle offre une
dialectique ouverte dont on peut reprer quelques tensions.

1. Le paradoxe du sujet:
"Le discours thtral", crit Anne Ubersfeld (1978: 264), "est un
discours sans sujet." Affirmation premptoire assortie aussitt d'un
remord: "Discours sans sujet mais o s'investissent deux voix
dialoguant." Le repentir est d'importance car, affich ou dissimul, le
sujet demeure toujours prsent au thtre. Que l'on adopte, avec
Greimas, l'hypothse d'une approche narrative du thtre ou qu'on
accepte, suivant Lyotard, l'apprhension plus large du dispositif
nergtique li au spectacle, l'vacuation du sujet n'est jamais per
mise. En proie des migrations (actantielles ou modales) internes
au discours, le sujet d'nonciation survit aux mtarmorphoses; c'est
bien l l'essence du paradoxe thtral: par sa qute le sujet i n
dividuel (spectateur ou acteur) se condamne, travers un jeu de
dlgations, sa propre dilution dans le sujet collectif (public) qui le
perptue.

Ds lors un jeu de rejets permet de prciser la dpossession du sujet:

par le texte de rgie, l'auteur renonce son je nonciateur pour
s'investir dans un je nonc par le travail scnique; le comdien
dpossde son corps par sa voix; le discours du personnage est
lui-mme sans sujet fixe puisque la seule dixis qui en conditionne la
naissance est celle de la reprsentation spectaculaire, etc.
 99

2 . Le paradoxe du r f r e n t :
Chacun s'accorde sur le caractre suirfrentiel du t h t r e . L'am
nagement du rfrent scnique relve de l'oxymore: la "ralit" du
spectacle, son vraisemblable supposent la convention; Landowski
prcise excellemment la procdure: "C'est une instance imaginaire
investie d'une existence smiotique, mais prive de ralit hors du
cadre spectaculaire qui lui donne naissance, qui cautionne la ralit
du spectacle".

3. Le paradoxe de l'illusion:
Ambivalence fondatrice de l'illusion t h t r a l e : la simulation, la mise en
jeu ne sont possibles que grce au spectateur instigateur du plaisir.
Perversit d'un regard qui accepte la duperie condition qu'il en soit
lui-mme victime. L'imposture se substitue ici l'illusion et rvle un
concert de motivations contradictoires.

4. Le paradoxe performatif:
La nature du paradoxe rfrentiel souligne la dimension illocutoire de
l'nonciation scnique; deux moments discursifs sont ici impliqus,
pour r e p r e n d r e Eco:
a ) l'assertion d'une convention mensongre,
b ) la pseudo-assertion par le personnage/spectateur l'intrieur du
monde possible ainsi dtermin.
L'illocutoire serait inscrit en somme dans le signe thtral mme;
chaque vnement porterait ainsi les marques de sa contradiction
discursive: la parole thtrale relverait de l'acte, mais acte pro
gramm et renvoi sans cesse reformul une relation autre et nour
ricire.

5. Le paradoxe du t e x t e et de la reprsentation:
La nature dictique du phnomne spectaculaire permet d'lucider la
contradiction texte-reprsentation. Tant il est vrai que les signes
thtraux se dsignent les uns les autres et qu'aucune suprmatie ne
permet de les hirachiser autrement que dans l'instant.
 100

6. Le paradoxe du conceptuel et du corps:

Le thtre est alliance du symbolique et du smiotique, du communi
cant et du non communicant, du reprsent et du spculaire. La
tradition occidentale privilgie sans doute le support linguistique mais
le spectacle oriental (Danse, iva, union yogique) joint le signe et le
corps. Dialectique inluctable entre deux dispositifs de mise en dis
cours et d'invention de plaisir.

6.

La conclusion que l'on peut t i r e r des quelques considrations for

mules ci-dessus concerne la circulation sans cesse active de l'acte
nonciatif au thtre. Dynamique de contrats en mutation, l'vnement
spectaculaire livre la critique quelques moments de ses changes:
- la fonction apritive qui signale les seuils de l'univers reprsent
(lever de rideau, applaudissements, prsentations, les trois coups,
la sonnerie, e t c . )
- la fonction englobante suggrant un modle d'attente, une con
science sociale, une distribution de rles;
- la fonction interactive marquant les connivences, les carts la
norme prcdente.

Objet labile et alatoire, l'acte thtral s'ouvre la lecture d'une

conversion: celle du je en proie aux contraintes symboliques ayant
nom: codes, idologie ou dure. Paradoxe ultime du tourniquet spec
taculaire auquel nous renvoie Duvignaud: "Je ne suis pas cet homme
ou cette femme passifs devant la gesticulation de l'acteur mais je suis
avec d'autres le support, la trame sans lesquels cette existence ima
ginaire ne serait r i e n . "

Notes

1 Voire Panorama smiotique/Semiotic landscape (= Actes du 1er col

loque de I'AIS) (The Hague, Berlin: Mouton, De G r u y t e r ) , 1980.
2 I n : Helbo et a l . 1979.
 101

Rfrences

Greimas, A . J . 1976
Smiotique et sciences sociales (Paris: Seuil).
Helbo, Andr 1983
Les mots et les gestes. Essai sur le thtre ( paratre).
Helbo, Andr et a l . 1979
Le phamp smiologique. Perspectives internationales. (Bruxelles:
Complexe).
Leenhardt, Jacques 1982
L'oprationalisation des procdures critiques de la littrature
in: Helbo, Histoire littraire et critique textuelle. (Montral:
Naaman).
Ubersfeld, Anne 1978
Lire le thtre (Paris: Ed. Sociales).
 ON T H E N A T U R E OF D R A M A T I C TEXT

Miroslav Prochzka

1.1. Dramatic text has the strange fate of being claimed by two
fields of a r t and it is ascribed a variety of f u n c t i o n s , possibilities
and ways of existence according to the t y p e of arguments [and some
times also goodwill to solve problems not incidental to the field i t s e l f ] .
The duality of dramatic text is on the one hand conditioned by the
character of some historic phases of the t h e a t r e [in connection with
e.g. the emphasis on " t h e a t r i c a l i t y " , the search for specific theatrical
means of expression, the writing of scenarios for individual pro
ductions, with the e x t e n t of adaptation and modification of the t e x t
etc.]; on the other hand the nature and interpretation of dramatic
text is influenced by the development of verbal art [including the
development of mutual relations between l i t e r a t u r e and the t h e a t r e ] ,
by the approach to functions and by d i f f e r e n t accentuation of them;
it is also strongly influenced by the tradition of theoretical thought
about l i t e r a t u r e [above all genealogy based on a traditional approach
to the classification of l i t e r a r y g e n r e s ] . T h e problems of dramatic t e x t
are projected into various contexts: there are e.g. questions of
criteria of textual differentiation within the framework of broad cul
tural context, questions of examining the specific nature of e x p r e s
sive means of a given t e x t , problems of regrouping f u n c t i o n s , of the
specific nature of reception and interpretation etc.
 103

Both in literary criticism and theatrology there is an overwhelming

tendency to follow and solve above all some concrete and single prob
lems of the particular f i e l d , neglecting those of the other and showing
little interest in theoretical problems of drama. In the history as well
as the theory of literature we often come across rather marginal
treatment of questions of drama and/or a distorted picture of it
resulting from taking into account only some criteria of interpretation
or some strata of dramatic structure. Of course, even theatrology
[and above all historical research of the theatre] is not much inclined
to analyze dramatic t e x t , concentrating mostly on describing relatively
stable components of, let us say, visual communication [this can be
clearly seen e . g . in the separation of the history of theatre from the
history of drama]. Taken theoretically the fact that theatrology and
literary criticism occasionally find a common point of interest when
interpreting the so called "idea of work of a r t " [or thematic level,
"content"] does not solve but rather darkens the problem.

1.2. I think that under the given circumstances it might be useful to

recall some arguments connected with two sharply defined theories of
drama met with in the history of Czech esthetics. They are connected
1
with the names of Otakar Zich and Jirl Veltrusky . Their views were
contrary [or at least different] on some fundamental points and even
if there were no open polemics between them [Veltrusky only bases
one part of his work on criticism of Zich but without analyzing his
arguments], their attitudes allow us to consider them as if there had
been. I am interested in the type of their individual arguments and
what meaning they have for us today. I am not going to treat them
from the historical point of view or t r y to f i x them in any historical
context.

2.1. O. Zich expressed his opinions of the essence and function of

dramatic text in an extensive work called Esthetics of Dramatic A r t
which appeared in 1931; there he focusses his attention on two thea
trical genres that are usually called "drama" and opera.
 104

First it must be emphasized that Zich's opinions were strongly i n f l u

enced by the necessity of criticizing those conceptions which u n
ambiguously incorporated in literature not only drama but the
theatre as well. This trend arose from the rather traditional and
self-evident setting of drama [ i . e . dramatic t e x t ] in the framework of
literature. A dramatic text was explicitly ascribed a determinative
character; in a text so treated everything met with during the per
formance was roughly given beforehand - the components of theatrical
expression only complete what is given by the text [ e . g . acting is
considered to be an executive art which only adds certain expressive
nuances, e t c . ] . Zich, on the contrary, starts from the opinion that
the theatre is not reducible to any of its components. Having analys
ed some conceptions of drama he comes to the following definition:
" Dramatic art" [e.g. certain type of theatre, genre of theatre -
M.P.] is a work of art showing the interaction of characters through
the actors acting on the stage" [Zich 1931: 6 8 ] . The relation of the
visual component to the acoustic one of the given performance is the
inseparable sign of this conception. Zich was t r y i n g to find out
whether a dramatic text can substitute for what he calls a dramatic
work [dramatic a r t ] and he concludes that if the acoustic component
is more or less determined by the t e x t , the notion of visual com
ponent is fairly a r b i t r a r y and subjective in comparison to the form of
this component in the performance.

When disputing the "textual" [ i . e . literary] conception Zich says that

its causes are often motivated by e . g . time transiency which dramatic
art shares with other temporal arts [ i . e . mostly with literature] and
also by the fact that in literature texts r i g h t f u l l y occur which resem
ble dramatic texts - so called closet plays; Zich places here e.g.
Goethe's Faust, Mickiewicz's Konrad Wallenrod and Gobineau's La
Renaissance. Zich tries to show how the form and function of d i f f e r
ent components of the theatre do not enable us to indentify them with
dramatic text as well as deriving them from the text when confronting
theatre [dramatic a r t ] and dramatic t e x t . Zich not only shows clearly
 105

that dramatic art is not reducible to text but he also shows how text
can participate in the conception of a performance [being a so called
"ideational directive", the language of the text influencing actors
manner of speech, deployment of plot, time, space and their connec
tions, the hierarchy of characters, factors of rhythm and style e t c . ] .
The foremost problems [at least from the point of view of literary
criticism] appear, however, where Zich tries to solve - in discussion
with arguments of literary criticism - the question of the literary
nature of dramatic t e x t .

2.2. Zich states that literary criticism claims not only the language
but also the plot and characters of drama as elements approximating it
to epic poetry. He tries to show differences in the construction and
conception of plot [and time]: but not on the relation of dramatic text
to the epic but on that of dramatic [theatrical] art to epic. This shift
is caused by dramatic t e x t being explicitly ascribed a dramatic func
t i o n . Zich's arguments against literary criticism are weakened in that
point by his failing to confront the plot and time structures of the
epic and drama in their literary forms. He does not ask whether a
new specific variation of plot and time continuity, showing the i n f l u
ences both of theatre and literature, may appear when drama is read.
The above mentioned shift is also proved by the categories of "real"
["objective"] and "imaginary" which Zich uses. The concentration on
the confrontation of the epic v s . dramatic [theatrical] art does not
allow Zich to admit a "functional shift" which was going to be funda
mental for Veltrusky later on.

The above mentioned direct confrontation of epic poetry and dramatic

[theatrical] art may be explained as well by Zich's identifying the
literary form of drama with the epic [as to the structures of plot and
time] and also, as we shall see later, by his opinion that drama
cannot fully gain a "poetic" [literary] function. On this point we
must admit that cursory experience will show us that dramatic text is
influenced by the epic but not to such an extent as to enable us to
 106

speak - as Zich does - of entire literary dependence of dramatic t e x t .

The influence of the epic on drama may vary according to e . g . the
nature of particular literary context and genre deployment, the type
of theatre and its relation to literature, e t c . , but it cannot prevail
onesidedly. Finally, Zich's transferring the question into the field of
reading gave rise to numerous problems which might be solved mainly
2
by the sociology [or psychology] of literary reception .

2.3. Anyhow we come across a most relevant problem in Zich's con

ception of dramatic text when we follow his reasons for excluding a
dramatic text from literature. This is also the very point which made
Veltrusky react contradictorily later on. Zich comes to conclusion that
"dramatic poetry does not exist because a dramatic work of art is not
an exclusively verbal art and we are not entitled to use pars pro toto
here. Only those 'dramatic texts' which are intended by their authors
to be autonomous as merely literary texts belong to literature, that is
to epic literature, even if they have a so called 'dramatic form' of
3
direct speech only" [1931: 75] . As dramatic text "records only one
component of a real work, it might serve only as its imperfect and
inclomplete substitute" [Zich 1931: 73]. A literary work must be
autonomous and, taken by itself, must satisfy the demand of being
poetic. For Zich "every verbal formation is 'poetic', but only if it has
an esthetic effect [1931: 75; underlined by M . P . ] . We must look for
the meaning of the word "poetic" not in our subjective impression of
the subject, but in its objective nature - i.e. in the material. The
language of poetry must be artificially created so that it functions
esthetically.

Zich's opinion of the literary aspect of dramatic text is on the whole

limited to this definition, and the specification of "poetic quality" was
not substantially deepened, though Zich promised to do so in the last
part of his book. His attitude is somewhat less relentless when he
speaks of the relationship of dramatic art [and the theatre] to the so
called mother arts [though his basic thesis concerning. the nonexist
ence of dramatic poetry remains v a l i d ] . Zich asserts that in the case
 107

of these arts artists t r y to find "an exemplum, a model of how to

stylize their own components of dramatic art without violating the
principle of dramatic quality" [1931: 388]. There is a "practical
relationship" between a certain component of a dramatic work of art
and "mother art". Zich admits that dramatic text even must have
literary values but not to the detriment of its dramatic quality. The
postulate of poeticality is only a directive for verbal stylization. We
recognize that a given component has artistic value when, all by i t
self, isolated from the whole of the work, it has such an artistic
effect as a work of mother art; but its dramatic effect would be
"weakened if not destroyed by this isolation". Zich says that if he
admits [following the postulate of poeticality] the literary effect of
the t e x t , it does not contradict his former opinions about the " r e s t r i c
tive meaning of the t e x t " as they concerned mostly the aspect of
dramatic quality. It is t r u e , of course, that Zich implied here broader
possibilities of the effect of dramatic t e x t ; nevertheless the relation
ship between dramaticality and poeticality is not f u r t h e r developed.

Having disqualified dramatic text from poetry, Zich substantially

interfered with established notions of literary criticism - especially
those of delimitation of the substance of literary works of art and
elementary genealogical classification. His conception of dramatic art
and the determination of the text to be staged led Zich to demands
for dramatic quality which were often opposed to poetic quality. The
only texts which in his opinion f u l l y realize the demand for poetic
quality are so called closet plays, but he did not describe the nature
of these plays in detail nor show the movability of their limits. Even
though "poeticality" was supposed to be determined according to the
"objective nature of the subject" ["material"], Zich in fact started
from the author's intention determining the sphere and way of exist
ence of the text ["to be s t a g e d " ] ; in this way its function was estab
lished which its relation to the "mother a r t " could only modify.

2.4. However, Zich's solution - above all of problems of literary

criticism - gives rise to some questions. First, there is the problem
 108

of identification of intentionality and "purpose" in the text itself,

which may sometimes be inconsistent with the author's intention; it
4
was not Zich who explicitly formulated this problem theoretically . In
this connection the question arises of how some dramatic texts [not
only of closet p l a y s ] , in spite of being supposed to be staged, have
the effect of independent and specific literary works, that is how
they gain the "incidental" esthetic function only as a language forma
tion. Finally we have to consider that the field of the theatre is
broader than that of dramatic art and that a certain conception of the
theatre can influence the nature of dramatic text to such an extent
that it approximates to literature, whereas the opposite procedure may
mean that literature will influence the forming of theatrical or even
dramatic expression.

3.1. Of course, Zich does not deal in his work with dramatic text
only, but he intends to describe what he calls "dramatic a r t " and
which is already a theatrical expression. Therefore he does not treat
the whole range of problems connected with t e x t . It was Jirf Veltrus
ky who devoted some of his works solely to dramatic t e x t , criticizing
Zich in some points. He deals with drama mainly in two of his works:
Dramatic Text as a Component of the Theatre, and Drama as Litera
t u r e ; evidently each of them concerns a different aspect of the prob
lem. I am going to touch on the former work only briefly as I want
to concentrate on the latter with regard to Zich's radical opinions on
literary problems.

3.2. In the article Dramatic Text as a Component of the Theatre Vel

t r u s k y tries to prove that the means of dramatic text predetermine
the forming of individual components of staging: "though the concrete
forming of every single component is not always clearly and explicitly
determined, its total meaning and its position in the structure are al
ways given" [Veltrusky 1941: 142]. Veltrusky shows how sound
values inherent in the text influence the vocal performance of an
actor, how the gaps resulting from the removal of author's notes are
 109

"filled u p " , he shows the mutual relation between author's notes and
direct speech etc. The central problem is the relation of text and a
stage figure as two elementary semiotic systems of the total theatrical
sign ["the sign system of acting" and "the sign system of language
represented by drama"]. Veltrusky's article introduces quite a few
new ideas, but his radical thesis of "predetermination" gave rise to
some objections based not only on the experience of avant-garde. It
is interesting that Veltrusky's paper appeared not long after a period
of numerous attempts to search for a new theatrical expression and
attempts to define theatricality as a specific form of expression . In
this paper Veltrusky overestimated the value of author's notes and
underestimated the semantic possibilities of kinesic and paralinguistic
means, which especially in acting may go far beyond the "directives"
of t e x t ; the thesis concerning the "total meaning" of a particular
component is not a sufficient condition, as it is based on the corres
pondence of meanings and not signs and is too general with respect
to the importance of the sign aspect of the art of actors. Besides, a
theoretical paper should take into account the historically changeable,
uncertain and sometimes ambivalent nature of author's notes [if there
are any at a l l ] . When solving the problem of the relation of dramatic
text and performance, we must consider the mediating meaning of so
called director's script [provided it is not identical with the dramatic
text]. On the other hand it should be seen that Veltrusky showed
- especially when analyzing the direct speech - various aspects of
text [ e . g . in sound values of speech, some relations in text e t c . ] ,
which every theatrical interpretation must contain.

3.3. I am going to concentrate above all on Veltrusky's paper Drama

as Literature. It will allow us to continue in the open problem of
Zich's interpretation of dramatic text [ i t means that I will deal mostly
with the problems of literary criticism]. The fact that Veltrusky's
work appeared in its English revised version not long ago enables me
to mention the main topics and attitudes only and then to deal more
thoroughly with the problems I consider to be of present interest 7 .
 110

Veltrusky's approach is a very specific one as to his theoretical

conception as well as the elaboration [and selection] of problems to
solve. He wants to prove what literary theory and history tacitly
work w i t h , that drama is an autonomous literary work of a r t .

The concept of "drama" is used to designate a literary kind . Vel

t r u s k y starts from the classical division into l y r i c , epic and drama
and. he wants to prove that drama is an integral part of literature.
The literary kinds differ by "different organization of the same mate
rial only, i.e. of language" [Veltrusky 1942: 407]. Veltrusky main
tains that " all plays, not only 'closet plays', are read in the same
g
way as poems and novels" [1977: 8-9, and 1942: 406] . The modern
theory of literature in his view has shown that a literary work is suf
ficiently realized by silent reading and there is no reason why drama
should be an exception. Veltrusky adds that so far the literary struc
ture of drama has never been completely separated from the compo
nents added for a theatrical performance. What bears the meaning in
a performance becomes the meaning when drama is read.
The way of explication and interpretation Veltrusky has chosen for
treating the subject is - as he says - usual for a structural analysis:
10
it starts with language and ends with theme . He shows the elemen
t a r y attributes of dramatic dialogue, the characteristics of denomina
tion in dramatic dialogue, the construction of semantic contexts. The
most important is the part where he describes the means of semantic
unification which should overcome certain disparities occuring between
different semantic contexts of dialogue. Veltrusky f u r t h e r follows
monologue and dialogue appearing in all three literary kinds, then he
shows how the dramatic characters and dramatic plot are constructed
by linguistic means, how situation and theme are denoted and at the
end of the book he compares the three literary kinds from several
points of view.

3.4.1. Although Veltrusky's conception is thoroughly and consistent

ly worked out and represents an entirely new and individual way of
solving the problems, there are some facts which make its fundamental
 111

thesis doubtful - i.e. the statement that all plays are literary works.
In the following notes I am going to concentrate on some problems
which I consider important for the theory of dramatic text and which
in a way touch on Veltrusky's [and sometimes Zich's] solutions.

Veltrusky t r u t h f u l l y described the disruption of the unity of semantic

context caused by the differences in the context of individual speech
es and he showed the necessity of finding the means of semantic u n i
ty. Here he followed up Mukarovsky's description of the semantic
construction of a sentence, the principles of which, as Mukarovsky
says, can also be used for the construction of wholes larger than a
sentence. Let us recall that there are three principles: 1/concentra-
tion on the unity of sense in the perception of a sentence, 2/the
principle of an accumulation of meanings, 3/ the oscillation between
the semantic statics and dynamics which is given by the polarity
between denomination and context. Mukarovsky linked these principles
11
with his idea and formulation of "semantic gesture"

After analyzing the tension between the interacting contexts, Veltrus

ky searched for the semantic unity of dialogue. This unity in such a
case is given by the subject-matter [theme] and the extra-linguistic
situation. In the case of dramatic t e x t , provided it is supposed to be
read and evaluated as literature, such a situation and subject-matter
can be presented only by linguistic means. The reader should under
stand drama as a discourse united by the author, who defines the
integral context which is in interaction with partial contexts. Veltrus
ky wants to show the means which create the feeling of the continuity
of the discourse, as well as those which cut the discourse up into
segments. In the latter category it is necessary to distinguish "be
tween those which serve the structure of the discourse itself and
those which spring from the extra-linguistic situation" [Veltrusky
1977: 15, and 1942: 421]. The means presenting the extra-linguistic
situation "through the direct speeches belong basically to two distinct
categories. The speeches may contain direct descriptions, characteri
zations, accounts of the situation or its parts . . . , or else the situa
tion may be f i r s t hinted at by a shade of meaning that slightly colors
 112

an utterance or all the utterances" [Veltrusky 1977: 37, and 1942:

444]. With regard to the semantic unity great attention should be paid
to author's notes which Veltrusky holds as "the elementary [underlined
by M.P.] means of semantic unity of dialogue" and as "an integral
part of the literary structure" [1942: 450; 1977: 42].

3.4.2. In my opinion there are some reasons why we cannot general

ize the function of notes for all texts in such a way. In the history
of drama the presence of notes has often been closely connected with
the theatre or with a sort of theatricality [and we know that the
theatre and literature have not always approximated to each o t h e r ] .
Besides often there were no notes [except for a list of characters],
as the stage directions were supposed to be conveyed during staging
[ e . g . the author himself was the p r o d u c e r ] ; or the text was various
ly adapted during staging [or sometimes it almost originated t h e r e ] .
That means that notes are not necessarily part of the original inten
tion and their presence or absence may be just incidental from the
point of view of literature.

But even in cases where the notes do form a part of the dramatic
text, we can see a wide scale of them ranging from purely stage
directions to t r u l y poetic notes. In an extreme case the former type
may be close to a "director's script" and then the interaction between
the spheres of drama and theatre make their literary value doubtful.
The question of notes-names of characters where they appear in a
text without any f u r t h e r specification is debatable as well; besides,
we sometimes come across the names of characters as the names of
stage f i g u r e s , i.e. connected with their theatrical functions [and that
influences their semantic position in the t e x t ] .

Notes vary as to the level of generality or particularity and this also

questions their stylistic value corresponding to the stylistic value of
direct speech. There are cases when the level of notes and that of
direct speeches are in contrast as to the means used, the contrast
need not be functional from the point of view of the conception of the
drama as a literary work. In drama - provided it is not intended to
 113

be read - notes are usually not a self-sufficient literary means of

creating the world of the work. It is true anyway that they may par
ticipate in the semantic coherence of the text [and sometimes its
semantic unification] but they do not always do that systematically
and consistently [remember e . g . the regularity of their distribution
in the t e x t ] ; their presence does not yet mean that they are an
adequate means of unification [sometimes they can even emphasize the
gaps between the speeches].

3.4.3. I cannot analyze here the very interesting problem of seman

tic unification ["semantic gesture"] which Mukarovsky indicated in
some concrete analyses [solving the problem not on the level of
literary kind or genre but on concrete w o r k s ] . Nevertheless I want to
stress the fact, which is very important for theory of drama, that the
category of semantic unification was used to describe conditions and
possibilities of esthetic functioning of a work of a r t . This unification
is not only to outline the composition of a work and follow the rela
tions between units, but the concept implies "integrating of antino
mies" of a work as well and it is to show the dynamic unity of a work
of a r t . Therefore Veltrusky was right in focussing his attention on
the relation between semantic statics and dynamics. Anyway, dramatic
text resists the demand for "the isolation of literary structure" by
the circumstances of its origin as well as its elementary determination.
We have already seen that in the problems concerning notes. It is
true that dramatic text is usually "within the reach of the esthetic
function", but it is not always conceived with regard to i t , and
thence it does not make use of all means that would be available on
the literary level. We cannot e . g . assert quite definitely that - from
the theoretical point of view - the presence or absence of notes is
significant with regard to the literary conception in the same way as
we might do in the case of presence or absence of dialogue in a
novel. The "crossing" of functions or the "shift of purpose" results
in drama [if it is read] in e . g . confusion of connotation and denota
tion [i.e. in some cases connotation must substitute for denotative
determination of a situation, emotional attitudes, the description of a
 114

character etc.], in the specific accumulation of meanings and by

linguistic means "taking over" the plot [reference to n a r r a t i o n ] , in
transfers in the hierarchy of means and even in their probabilist
s t r u c t u r e , in the shift of time relations etc. It seems that the catego
ry of
semantic unification should be supplemented by categories of
13
semantic cohesion and coherence and it should count on dramatic
text being fragmentary and h y b r i d . The last two concepts should
imply that to solve the problem of literary and esthetic functions of
dramatic text is often impossible without reference to its relation to
the theatre.

3.5. A theory of dramatic text must take into account the relevancy
of "intersection" of two types of intention:

1 / Most texts are intended to be staged and thus their elementary

purpose is given. It is projected into the text in the form of different
instructions, restrictions and even omissions motivated by the require
ment of this or that theatrical conception and style and at the same
time the literary requirements may be neglected.

2/ There is some disproportion between the means and their purpose

["aim"] allowing different possibilities of functional shift [often i r r e
spective of the author's particular intention and the supposed cultural
function of the t e x t ] . The so called author's intention may be consid
ered, in a given context of perceiving and evaluating, to be, in a
way "inherent" in the t e x t .

The position of drama [being published as a literary work but o r i g i

nally intended to have another existence] is a specific one, as its
interpretation must count on the two possible aims. The isolation of
literary structure based on the possibility of "functional shift" can
hardly neglect the aim of being staged, not only because the text is
often incoherent and dicontinuous from the literary point of view, but
also because the significance of the relation between "intentionality"
14
and "non-intentionality" is affected . I mean the fact that the means
of semantic unification [intentionality in Mukarovsky's sense] are not
often connected with non-intentionality but with "empty places" result
ing from the theatrical "purpose".
 115

3.6. This brings us to some other problems. Let us recall Hegel's

remark that "what makes drama dramatic, i.e. action and its lively
movability, is missing in printed drama" [1966: 336], which reminds
us of some of Zich's views. Supposing text is basically intended to be
staged, we must realize that speech is part of a broader category of
action, within the framework of which it has different positions: from
having a major role [in some special cases it may even become action
itself] up to cases where it has a quite minor character.

The literary [read] version of drama must anyway rely on action

being carried by linguistic means only, even where their role within
the total [supposed] category of action is not so important. This
causes certain shifts leading to different accentuation of individual
means. It makes monologues and narrative parts more important, the
preferred texts are those with an active role of language, with close
15
dialogic interaction, with a message of action, etc. . Another prob
lem is consequent on e . g . the mediated signification in the read
version: the means which act as signs [or bearers of meaning] in a
performance are only mediated by the language meaning in the liter
ary [read] version; this concerns not only the author's notes but
sometimes dialogic action as well. A reader need not know why some
units gain certain positions as a result of the theatrical function of
the t e x t , but he anyway may feel them as e . g . "impoverishing the
meaning", as sharp semantic reversals, discontinuances not motivated
by the requirement for intentional literary semantic construction,
schematic nature of denomination [of e . g . names of characters]
16
etc. . The contemporary literary atmosphere can also in a great
measure influence the literary [reading] possibilities of drama by a
certain conception of context [by the degree of its discontinuance or
cohesion], or by comprehension of the semantic value of the dialogue
[not only dramatic dialogue] etc. In any case there is the question of
whether we may neglect, when identifying and evaluating the literary
quality of a drama, the numerous gaps both in language and thematic
construction of the drama [and thence certain inconsistencies in the
reading itself] which do not arise from a particular literary concep-
 116

t i o n , but whose relation to it is incidental, and at the same time they

are not functional even from the point of view of "inner" intentionali-
ty.

3.7. I think that a necessary condition for interpreting drama as

literature is to specify the position of direct speech [dialogue] among
other dramatic means. This is a demand based on the mentioned
supposition of "total action", which is not negligible even in solving
the problems of the literary structure of drama. It also includes the
problem of the "self-sufficiency" of language in its different functions
[including the esthetic one].

To put it schematically, we can examine a broad repertoire of texts

where on the one hand there are texts where speech has the dominant
role, e . g . the language is evidently esthetized, the speech is mono
logized [not only by monologues but by monologization of dialogic
relations as w e l l ] , or the speech becomes action in a prevailing meas
ure - in all these cases we can observe that some explicitness and
17
synthetization is formed even on the dialogic level and is accompa
nied either by the limitation or modification of nonverbal communica
t i o n , which is influenced by the nature and function of direct speech.
On the other hand there are texts where utterance [direct speech]
has just a general nature either because physical action [or its deno
mination] takes place in a great measure or because e . g . speech gains
its full meaning only in coexistence with the particular situation [or
18
rather the speech completes its meaning] . Both poles are connected
with transitional spheres [their breadth can have a different histori
cal v a l i d i t y ] : on the one hand they may tend towards closet plays
[leading to the dialogical n o v e l ] , on the other hand to a libretto,
synopsis, scenario, i.e. to texts often having questionable literary
value.

3.8. It should also be added that the kind and nature of "linguistic
means" changes according to the communicative possibilities of i n d i
vidual kinds and genres in connection with the demand for the reali
zation of the esthetic function. This can be seen in e . g . various
 117

accentuation of values of a w o r d , sentence, utterance, discourse; or

in the relevancy of various linguistic levels; or even in the specifity
of the relation between language and theme. In any case both the
purpose and nature of linguistic means should be conceived with
regard to the nature and possibilities of the "material".

In the structuralist conception the esthetic function is connected with

focussing on the message itself, on its inner construction. Mukarovsky
defines a function in general as "the way of utilizing the features of
a given phenomenon" [1948: I, 80]. The dynamic conception of the
hierarchy of functions sometimes enables a function to be considered
as dominant, though it did not have such a role originally, i.e. it
becomes dominant beyond its original destination [let us recall the
above mentioned disproportion between means and purpose]. In con
trast to former literary theories which mostly conceived drama as
literary work on the basis of its theme, Veltrusky showed how all
levels share in the realization of literary s t r u c t u r e . He built upon the
above mentioned theory of functions which allows a description of the
functional shift, which is the important point in the case of drama.
Nevertheless some problems are left open: e . g . the connection be
tween the supposition of the esthetic function and the theory of
literary kinds; then there is the question whether and how "linguistic
means" [their definition, construction and organization] correspond to
that function.

3.9. In drama - as we have seen - the possibilities of language are

not made use of to such an extent as in the case of the lyric and
epic. The dialogic functions lead in many cases to a greater depend
ence of the linguistic means on the extra-linguistic situation [which is
not always described] within the semantic structure of text already.
The above mentioned position of direct speech among other dramatic
means influences the possibility of realization of the esthetic function:
the emphasis can be transferred from evident esthetization, which can
already be seen on the level of direct speech [in e . g . . "poetic" d r a
mas] to various extra-esthetic functions and up to the entire absence
of conditions for the esthetic function.
 118

The "dramatic" and "theatrical" functions [here I must take into

consideration some of Z i c h ' s r e m a r k s - t h o u g h n o t so s h a r p l y o u t l i n e d ]
influence the nature of "linguistic means" in d r a m a t i c t e x t a n d thus
they form broader or narrower conditions [if any] for the esthetic
function to be realized. The matter is complicated by the fact that
l i t e r a r y c r i t i c i s m o f t e n d e f i n e s drama on t h e basis of l i n g u i s t i c means
[dialogue character] though not regarding their art structure. What
we call d r a m a t i c t e x t is o f t e n d e l i m i t e d above all b y its b e l o n g i n g to
the theatre [or theatrical genre]; literary criticism then from its
v i e w p o i n t accepts o r r e j e c t s p a r t i c u l a r t e x t s [ e . g . s c e n a r i o s , librettos
19
etc.] rather arbitrarily

We can see t h a t even t e x t s w h i c h r e l a t i v e l y s a t i s f y t h e demands f o r a

literary w o r k c a n n o t a v o i d t h e i n f l u e n c e of t h e t h e a t r e on t h e n a t u r e
o f l i n g u i s t i c means and t h u s on t h e p o s s i b i l i t y of t h e e s t h e t i c function
being realized. Every literary interpretation of drama s h o u l d be made
20
on t h e basis of t h e t w o mentioned f e a t u r e s : t h e f r a g m e n t a r y nature
in the very concept of w h i c h t h e r e is t h e f a c t t h a t drama does not
aspire to t o t a l i t y and integrity of message by using literary means
only; and hybridity based on t h e demand f o r completation of verbal
expression by other communicative means. Both categories should
show t h e r e l a t i v e a m b i g u i t y of t h e l i t e r a r y e x i s t e n c e of d r a m a t i c t e x t .

3.10. To conclude I would l i k e t o mention a c o n c e p t i o n of a classical

literary problem within t h e f r a m e w o r k of w h i c h t h e s e l f - e v i d e n t idea
of the literary character of drama has been m a i n t a i n e d . I t is a q u e s
t i o n of l i t e r a r y k i n d s . V e l t r u s k y b u i l d s on t h e classical o p i n i o n of t h e
21
t h r e e basic l i t e r a r y k i n d s : t h e l y r i c , epic and drama . As a m a t t e r
of f a c t Czech s t r u c t u r a l i s m d i d not e l a b o r a t e on t h e p r o b l e m of liter-
22
ary k i n d s and g e n r e s . Veltrusky was t h e f i r s t t o c o n c e n t r a t e thor
oughly on one type of litarary discourse as a literary kind. The
problems concerning this conception I would like to point out are,
roughly, these: 1 / i t is not s u c h a p r o b l e m t o d e t e r m i n e w h a t d i s t i n
guishes the three kinds on t h e level of language [as well as o t h e r
criteria], b u t r a t h e r w h a t u n i f i e s t h e m when opposed t o o t h e r literary
discourse; 2 / w h a t is t h e basis f o r t h e classical t r i p a r t i t i o n applying
 119

either to the historical point of view or the classifying criteria [if the
condition in 1 is k e p t ] .

Ad 1 / What unifies the kinds is f i r s t l y the fact of verbal record,

secondly the condition of the esthetic function, [various remarks by
Veltrusky as well as his general attitude show that he started from
this condition]. But we have already seen that aiming at the esthetic
function is more complicated in the case of drama than in the case of
the other kinds. From a certain point of view it is not possible to
include all dramas as literature [unless we eliminate the demand for
the esthetic function and are content with verbal r e c o r d i n g ] ; never
theless even dramas which we do include here, do not satisfy this
condition to such a degree as the lyric and epic do.

Ad 2/ It appears that the classical tripartition is not firmly established

either historically or on the basis of classifying criteria. This uncer
tainty even led to strict statements about drama not belonging either
23
to the tripartition or to literature . It seems that certain classifica
tions [and the mentioned t r i p a r t i t i o n is one of them] have a justifiable
historical function, but that it will be necessary to work out a new
typology as well as new criteria capable of describing the wide varie
t y of texts in a better way. Otherwise - if we stick to the classical
classification - we should have to use another formulation of the
esthetic function or even to cease requiring it as the unifying feature
of all three traditional kinds of literature.

4. I hope that this outline has shown sufficiently the contribution of

both theories [Zich's and Veltrusky's] in spite of the debatable
questions I have pointed out. In my opinion both theories are most
productive where the description of different functions of dramatic
components is independent of radicalness and explicitness of the basic
attitude, i.e. drama either is or is not a literary work. Then the
description of different semantic relations of dramatic structure is
valid for both theatrology and literary criticism. As we have seen,
the two authors' attitudes are essentially different in that Veltrusky
sees dramatic text as a [determining] model of performance as well as
 120

an independent literary work, while for Zich text is only a part of

performance, the conception of which may be influenced by some of
its components, but he denies its independent poetic existence which
is often in contradiction to the dramaticality.

The specific nature of drama makes its position in a way ambiguous in

the sphere of theatre as well as in the sphere of literature. The
radicalness of the theses affirming that drama is not literature, or
that drama is both literature and theatrical t e x t , which are both in
my opinion unsufficient - correspond to this ambiguity. That all
results in the necessity of delimiting the nature of text on the basis
of not one but several cultural contexts. In addition, literary c r i t i
cism, if it intends to follow the literary value of dramatic t e x t , cannot
do so without understanding its various theatrical functions [includ
ing basic "intentionality"] and similarly a theatrological interpretation
should not be made without considering literary influences. In the
historical continuity the relationship between literature and theatre
being interwoven in the questions of dramatic text may be variously
radicalized [from complete separation up to relative identity] accord
ing to the nature of particular context. After all, even the concept of
"drama", itself signifying in some languages sometimes dramatic text
as a literary genre and sometimes one of the theatrical genres [a
p l a y ] , records this duality that we must always have in mind.

Notes

1 Both authors are ones of the foremost personalities of Czech esthe

tics and theory of theatre. Otakar Zich [died in 1934] represented
the climax of the line preceded by Czech Herbartism and in many
ways he formed a transition to the Czech structuralism. Zich's
sphere of interest was very wide including apart from esthetics
problems of many fields of research e . g . musicology, literary
criticism, theatrology . . . Jirf Veltrusky, one of the representa
tives of the Czech structuralism, Mukarovsky's disciple and later
his assistant, concentrated mostly on the problems of drama and
theatre. Although Veltrusky was much younger than Zich, the
temporal distance between the concerned works is not big [about
 121

10 y e a r s ] . Recently Veltrusky has been dealing with semiotics of

acting, puppet theatre [this interest was indicated at the end! of
the t h i r t i e s ] , the semantic of visual arts.
2 In the present state of research the sociology of literature [sociol
ogy of a r t ] has been becoming more and more important as very
subtle analyses of works of art often result in the lack of clear
view of the actual functioning of some components or the hierarch-
ization of them. Very often what was analyzed as a potential se
mantic possibility is automatically understood as a substantial
feature of a work without offering the criteria of this determination.
As to the reading: Zich admits existence of so called theatrical
reading in which one can imagine the "real" plot and time connec
ted with the performance as if it were performed by actors on the
stage. Zich points out that one must have "a sense of dramatical
y" for such reading. The demand for theatrical reading should be
at least approximately satisfied whenever we are dependent on the
mere t e x t ; the given demand must "of course, be satisfied by the
director, the actor, the author . . . " .
3 This is what Zich says about the relation poeticality-dramaticality:
"the more poetic the dramatic text is, the more probably can we
expect its dramaticality to be weakened" [1931, 37].
4 In Czech esthetics this problem was dealt with most consistently in
J . Mukarovsky's article "Intentionality and Nonintentionality" which
was read in the Prague Linguistic Circle in 1943, but was not
published until 1966 [Mukarovsky 1966].
5 I wrote about this Veltrusky's paper in a greater detail in the
article U zkladu smiotiky dvadla I I : Smiotick ternata v cesk
mezivlecn teatrologii [At the Roots of Semiotic of Theatre I I :
Semiotic Themes in the Czech Theatrology between the Wars],
Wiener Slawistischer Almanach 5, Wien 1980.
6 For example, in the Czech translation of Tairov's articles Osvo-
bozen divadlo of 1927, we come across this formulation: "We know
that the periods when the theatre flourished came when it did not
stick to written plays and created its own scenarios" [Tairov 1927,
163]. It would be possible to object [in support of Veltrusky's
view] that such a scenario determines the performance in many
ways; V e l t r u s k y , however, built on what Tairov calls "written
plays" - it can be judged also from his not mentioning the mediat
ing link of the so called director's script.
7 The paper Drama as a Literary Work was published in the miscel
lany Reading on Language and Literature in 1942, the editors of
which were B. Havrnek and J . Mukarovsky [Veltrusky 1942]. Its
to an extent altered English version Drama as Literature was
published in 1977 [Veltrusky 1977]. I relied on the Czech version,
but I tried to v e r i f y the solutions in both in the points I concen
trated on. Besides I tried to confront the two versions in general.
In addition to several smaller changes one extensive change was
made: the passage on the so called semantic gesture was left out
in the English version.
 122

8 Veltrusky says that the criterion of drama is the "spontaneous

evaluation by an unprejudiced reader". This criterion seems to be
missing in the English version.
9 The word " a l l " is in the Czech version - in contrast to the English
one - stressed. It seems that in the introduction to the English
version the thesis about drama "being an integral literary work
as well as lyric and epic are, for the specific sign of literature
is that language is its only material" [Veltrusky 1942: 406] was
eliminated without being substituted by anything else.
10 The opening part is much shorter than the Czech one. Veltrusky
left out a f a i r l y long passage were he explained his approach and
described the concept of "semantic gesture" which he at f i r s t took
as a starting point. It is a pity that Veltrusky did not transfer
the problem of semantic gesture onto a level acceptable in a differ
ent scientific and language context, as in the given conception it
is fundamental for defining conditions of the functioning of a
literary work. It is true that some procedures connected with
semantic gesture were kept by Veltrusky in observing semantic
statics and dynamics, though I find it disputable to connect it with
the characteristics of a literary kind [I think they are functional
on the level of a work or works by a particular writer or school
etc.].
11 Mukarovsky defines the semantic gesture e . g . in the following
way: "The semantic gesture can be specified as concrete, but not
qualitativitely predetermined semantic intention" [1966: 100]. It
"organizes the work as a dynamic unity from its simplest elements
up to its general outline" [1948, I: 120]. It is "as to the content
an unspecified gesture, by which the writer choses and combines
elements into a semantic unity" [1948, I I I : 239; 1948, I I : 374].
12 Anyway, Hegel says about the orientation at a reader: "In my
opinion no theatrical piece should be published, but the manu
script should, as it was in the ancient days, belong to the re
pertoire of the theatre and should be distributed as least as
possible. In that case there would not be published so many
dramas which in spite of having refined language, beautiful
feelings, wonderful reflections and deep ideas, lack what make
drama dramatic, that is action and its vivid movability" [1966:
336]. At the beginning of the 20th century G.B. Shaw saw the
problem rather differently [Shaw 1934, and 1965]. He was already
accustomed to the plays being published and he examined the
conditions and the possibilities of readers' reception of a dramatic
work.
13 This concerns e . g . the problems of "functional sentence perspec
t i v e " . It is significant that Mukarovsky when considering the
semantic unification ["semantic gesture"] followed Mathesius'
formulations on FSP [these became fundamental for further
thoughts about the problem in the Czech linguistics].
14 We can find the explanation of this relation in the above mention
ed Mukarovsky's paper Intentionality and Non-intentionality.
 123

15 J . Honzl [1956] recommended to distinguish between action and a

message on action, which is a functional distinction if we are
speaking in this relation of action in its narrower sense, because
in theatre every expression has a character of action, even e . g .
narration.
16 Though voiced reading is not a condition of a drama being real
ized by the reader, the schematicality comes forward especially in
case of reading aloud a drama [see Hegel, 1966].
In this connection I would like to refer to the problem of the
relation written-spoken. This is quite evident in the case of d r a
ma, as it is conceived with respect to a certain form of a spoken
realization. This problem is anyway a very complex one and it
would require to be solved separately. The relation between
written and spoken language has been described especially by
J . Vachek [ e . g . Vachek, 1942].
17 Of course, in the case of monodramas it may be constructed on
the monological level. The position of monodrama is a special one
in sometimes making use of the means of inner and outer dialog-
ization [cf. Goethe's Proserpina or Beckett's Krapp's Last Tape].
18 The role of notes is becoming more important in such t e x t , but
we know, that dramatic usage need not always describe a situa
tion or an action, or is not always due to describe the atmosphere
by purely literary means. Of course, the interpretation of partic
ular texts evaluates the function of the notes if there are any.
19 It would be e . g . interesting to show why we do not encounter as
permanent and systematic evaluation of dramas as literature as it
is in the case of similar evaluation of other works of literature.
Much can also be seen from the practice of editing dramas and
plays [in connection with the problems of translations, too; e . g .
the difference between translating plays to be published in col
lections and translating them if they are to be presented on a
contemporary stage].
20 It does not concern the fragmentary quality of e . g . Kafka's
Castle but that which occurs in the development of the text itself
already. Compare also Zich's formulation, which shows the f r a g
mentary nature from the point of view of theatre [so it is valid
mutually ] : " . . . do not let us forget that the text alone is not a
complete work, but only its part" [Zich, 1933].
21 In the English version Veltrusky sometimes speaks about narration
instead of epic, which makes the distinguishing criteria rather
confusing
- cf. [Genette 1977].
In this version Veltrusky also uses the term "genre" instead of
"kind".
22 Mukarovsky only refers to the difference between the dialogue
and monologue, f u r t h e r he reminds different consequent temporal
characteristics: actual presence and transitoriness [the dialogue
having both, lyric only the former, epic the latter o n e ] . Later
 124

Veltrusky tried to differentiate the literary kinds using a wider

range of criteria - but that all was done on the basis of the t r i -
partition of literary kinds.
23 This radical view is held by S. Skwarczyhska [ e . g . 1970]. Cf.
[Ziomek 1977].

References

Bachtin, Michail Michajlovic 1975

Voprosy literatury i estetiki (Moskva: Chudozestvennaja litera-
tura).
Burian, Emil Frantisek 1939
'Prispevek k problmu jevistnf mluvy', Slovo a slovesnost 5, 1 ,
p.24-32.
Danes, Frantisek 1967
'O pojmu "jazykovy prostredek"', Slovo a slovesnost 28, 4,
p.341-349.
Danes, Frantisek 1979
'O identifikaci znam [kontextov zapojen] informace v t e x t u ' ,
Slovo a slovesnost 40, 4, p.257-270.
Genette, Grard 1977
'Genres, " t y p e s " , modes', Potique 32, p.389-421.
Glowihski, Michal 1967
'Gatunek literacki i problemy poetyki historycznej', ( i n ) M. Ja-
nion and A. Piorunowa ( e d s . ) , Proces historyczny w literaturze
i sztuce (Warszawa: PIW), p.31-60.
Glowihski, Michal 1977
Style odbioru (Krakw: Wydawnictwo Literackie).
Hansen-Lve, Aage A. 1978
Der russische Formalismus (Wien: Die sterreichische Akademie
der Wissenschaften).
Hegel, G.W.F. 1966
Estetika (Praha: Odeon).
Honzl, Jindrich 1956
K novmu vyznamu umenf (Praha: O r b i s ) .
Jakobson, Roman 1976
'Dominanta', ( i n ) I. Cernov ( e d . ) , Chrestomatija po teoretice-
skomu literaturovedeniju I ( T a r t u : Tartuskij gosudarstvennyj
u n i v e r s i t e t ) , p.56-63.
Kacer, Miroslav 1971
'Drama. Pokus o definici', Prolegomena scnografick encyklo-
pedie 2 (Praha: Scnograficky stav).
 125

Karcevskij, Sergej 1929

'Du dualisme asymtrique du signe linguistique', Travaux du
Cercle linguistique de Prague 1 , p.88-93.
Kesteren A. van and Schmid, H. (eds.) 1975
Moderne Dramentheorie (Kronberg: S c r i p t o r ) .
Lukes, Milan 1977
' problmum programu inscenace', Informace a materily I, odd.
d i v . vedy (Praha: FFUK).
Mukarovsky, Jan 1948
Kapitoly z cesk poetiky I-lII (Praha: Svoboda).
Mukarovsky, Jan 1966
Studie z estetiky (Praha: Odeon).
Mukarovsky, Jan 1971
Cestami poetiky a estetiky (Praha: CS).
Nicoli, Allardyce 1962
The Theatre and Dramatic Theory (London: G. Harrap).
Osolsobe, Ivo 1974
Divadlo, kter mluv, zpv a tanc (Praha: Supraphon).
Pavis, Patrice 1976
Problmes de smiologie thtrale (Qubec: Univ. du Qubec).
Pokorny, Jaroslav 1946
Slozky divadelnho vyrazu (Praha: stav pro ucebn pomucky
prumyslovych a odbornych skol).
Pokorny, Jaroslav 1945
' dramatu', ( i n ) M. Kouril ( e d . ) , Divadeln prostor (Praha:
stav pro ucebn pomucky prumyslovych a odbornych skol).
Ryan, Marie-Laure 1979
'Toward a competence theory of genre J , Poetics 8, 3.
Shaw, G.B. 1934
'Preface to Plays Unpleasant', (in) Prefaces by G.B. Shaw
(London: Constable).
Shaw, G.B. 1965
'How to Make Plays Readable', (in) Shaw on Theatre (New
York).
Skwarczyska, Stefania 1961
'Niektre praktyczne konsekwencje teatralnej teorii dramatu',
Dialog, No. 10, p.133-138.
Skwarczyska, Stefania 1970
'Dramat - literatura czy teatr?', Dialog, No. 6, p. 127-132.
Steiner, Peter and Steiner, Wendy 1979
'The Axes of Poetic Language', ( i n ) J . Odmark ( e d . ) , Language,
Literature and Meaning I (Amsterdam: John Benjamins), p.35-70.
 126

Tairov, Alexandr 1927

Osvobozen divadlo (Praha: O r b i s ) .
Vachek, Josef 1942
'Psany jazyk a pravopis', ( i n ) B. Havrnek a J . Mukarovsky
( e d s . ) , Cteni o jazyce a poezii (Praha: Druzstevn prce),
p.231-306.
V e l t r u s k y , Jir 1940
'Covk a predmet na divadle', Slovo a slovesnost 6, 3, p.153-
159.
V e l t r u s k y , Jir 1941
'Dramaticky tekst jako soucst divadla', Slovo a slovesnost 7, 3,
p.132-144.
V e l t r u s k y , Jir 1942
'Drama jako bsnick dlo', ( i n ) . Havrnek a J . Mukarovsky
( e d s . ) , Cteni o jazyce a poezii (Praha: Druzstevn prce),
p.403-502.
V e l t r u s k y , Jir 1976
'Contribution to the Semiotics of A c t i n g ' , ( i n ) L. Matejka ( e d . ) ,
Sound, Sign and Meaning (Ann A r b o r : The University of Michi
g a n ) , p.553-606.
V e l t r u s k y , Jir 1977
Drama as Literature (Lisse: The Peter de Ridder).
Veltrusky, Jir 1979
'Theatre in the Corridor', The Drama Review 23, 4, p.67-80.
Vodicka, Felix 1968
'Mezi poezii a przou. funkci znrovho systmu cesk litera-
t u r y 19. s t o l . ' , Cesk literatura 16, 3, p.245-265.
Volosinov, V . N . 1929
Marksizm i filosofija jazyka (Leningrad).
Volosinov, V . N . 1930
'Konstrukciji vyskazyvanija', Literaturnaja uceba, p.65-87.
Zich, Otakar 1917
'O typech bsnickych', Casopis pro moderni filologil 6, p. 1-47.
Zich, Otakar 1921
'Estetick prprava mysli', Cesk Mysl 17.
Zich, Otakar 1923
'Loutkov divadlo', Drobn umeni, p.7-9, 56-60, 140-143.
Zich, Otakar 1931
Esteti ka dramatickho umeni (Praha: Melantrich).
Zich, Otakar 1933
'Rozhovor s Otakarem Zichem', in 4, 20, p.464-469.
Ziomek, Jerzy 1977
'Projekt wykonawcy w dziele literackim a problemy genologiczne',
( i n ) T . Bujnicki and J . Slawnski ( e d s . ) , Problemy odbioru i
odbiorcy (Warszawa: WPAN).
 COHERENCE AND FOCALITY. A CONTRIBUTION TO THE
ANALYSABILITY OF THEATRE DISCOURSE

Carlos Tindemans

1.

From the point of view of perception, the assumption can be made

that what a theatre spectator looks at is what he attends to. Follow
ing this assumption, the 'attention' process becomes extremely im
portant. One of the essential problems in this area is to give a de
tailed account of how the organisational capacity of the spectator is
spent. Now, it is one of the canons of perception psychology that the
whole is different from the sum of its parts. The essence of this view
is that the perception of an event or object cannot be predicted accu
rately from the knowledge of the perception of the elementary parts
of the event or object. This holistic hypothesis is one of the impor
tant contributions of Gestalt psychology. The chief challenge to the
holistic view has been represented implicitly by the analytical models
based on information processing concepts. If I evaluate the symptoms
correctly, however, then the pendulum has begun to swing back again.
The notion of a perceptual response being based on the whole stimulus,
on the global aspect it represents, is again being discussed.

2.

A theory of coherence can avoid selfrefutation only by explaining per

ception of events and objects in terms of an inner perception which
 128

seems to be a replica of the original perceiving. To this circularity

must be added a lack of simplicity in the postulation of a perceiving
mind and a mental world. The psychological processes involved in re
cognition, priming and attention, the use of cues and of interpreta
tion and imaginative enrichment in perceiving, the influence on it of
learning agd past experience, and the operation of object constancy,
all these exclude simple direct confrontation with external objects and
events and show an immense complexity in perception unrealised by
1
common sense.

This is the discovery of a hornet's nest; the f i r s t touch brings out a

whole swarm of insistent problems. The core of the phenomenon could
well be that we select what is relevant (to oneself) and reject the
rest. Here the role of familiarity, redundancy, meaningfullness and
similarity needs to be stressed. This only opens up the problem for
f u r t h e r inquiry into for instance selectivity, or contextual information.
We use the habits of the actor to help decode his t e x t ; we always do
better at understanding the character's behaviour after we have
watched the actor for a while. This implies that we change the charac
teristics of our analysing mechanism to match the characteristics of
the performing actor; the perceived sign mode will be promoted from
an initial sinsign to a legisign.

The notion that perception is basically a constructive act rather than

a receptive or simply analytic one, is already quite old; a really satis
factory theory of the mental processes, however, can only come into
being when we also use theories of motivation, personality and social
interaction. It is no longer adventurous to posit that, when people
are watching a play, they are also continually looking for cues, for
2
causal connections between events. Causal connections are rarely
spelled out explicitly; people in fact are quite adept at recognizing
implicit causalities. Establishing causal connections and filling in mis
sing information are therefore two necessary tasks in theatre compre
hension that depend on the generation of inferences.
 129

This points to a fundamental aspect of coherence construction. When

people put fragments of information together, the appropriateness of a
result often depends on the ability to focus attention toward one as
pect of the information. Different elaborations result from different
shifts in focus. In order to produce appropriate elaborations for i n
formation retrieval from the theatrical activities offered, it is neces
sary to determine what the theatre expedient has been interested i n .
People occasionally (frequently?, or even as a rule?) make mistakes in
interpreting information by misplacing the focus of the intended infor
mational item, either in quality or in identity.

Focus establishment depends on the ability to assess what the theatre

expedient is most likely to be interested i n . This assessment must
rely on knowledge about what things are relatively routine and what
kind of deliberate variations can occur within a routine. As people
watch a play, they generate expectations, presuppositions about what
is going to happen next. The process of understanding is largely a
process of generating such presuppositions and recognizing when any
expectation has been substantiated or violated. The problem of produc
ing an appropriate elaboration is a problem in focus establishment. As
a general r u l e , focus falls on these components of a conceptualisation
that are most interesting, and the components that are not deserving
of any attention are those that violate presuppositions. It follows that
a component which is open to variation, is more likely to violate our
expectations than one which is relatively f i x e d .

Focus is assumed to be a concept to which other concepts are associ

ated. Some of the association links are 'built in' in the sense that
they exist previous to the performance t e x t . Built in association links
include for instance that an event has a time, a place, a set of p a r t i
cipants, and a topic of interest. Focus also serves as the central i n
dex point for co-referencing. The focus is what is going to be acted
out. When it is introduced, it is new information. Thereafter it is the
given information, and more new information is added to i t . Knowing
what the focus is, constitutes an additional frame work, helps deter
mine co-reference relations. If a focus is seen not just as an entity
 130

by itself but connected to other entities, then focus indicates how

these entities can be co-referents as well.

When one encounters a new situation, or makes a substantial change

in one's view of the problem, one selects from memory a structure
called a frame. This essence of M. Minsky's (1975) or E. Goffman's
(1973) frame theory can be productive and influential for the analysis
of theatre performance , comprehension processes. Interactions be
tween two activities, either events or objects or verbal products, on
the one hand and a knowledge base on the other are a central topic
of this theory; approaches analysing a performance text as an object
of its own characterised by text-specific structural and stylistic
properties might then come into consideration. From a framebased
point of view performance comprehension leading up to the constitu
tion of text coherence means: continually choosing frames, collecting
evidences from text elements, filling in details, assuming standard
details missing, making conjectures, i n f e r r i n g , testing and revising
assumptions.

The general requirements for frame-based information processing (and

acquisition) noted by Minsky and Goffman may be taken as guidelines
for the design of a theatre representation frame system. To under
stand a performance text element, t h e n , means to match it against a
frame statement. A frame statement may be viewed as an element of a
network of frames guiding the construction of reasoning chains. To
understand coherently a t e x t , t h e n , means: recognizing the relevant
frame elements, determining their senses using frame presuppositions,
completing causal chains, elaborating statements or questions accord
ing to events or objects in focus. This process, of course, is de
pendent on a strategy of focus generation; this strategy can be
located either in stylistic-aesthetic idiosyncratic structures of perfor
mance, or in the interactional overall structure of the interrelational
configuration of the characters involved.
 131

3.

Signs are of any interest not because they eventually come into exis
tence but as indispensable tools of cognitive and communicative pro
cesses. Their basic property is, as we all know, relationship; signs
are instruments of mediation. Coherence, t h e n , is to be understood as
an action which one can and has to direct oneself. The theatre per
formance, the actor's semiotising process, becomes a constituent to
which one participates oneself; theatre does not occur to somebody,
somebody makes occur theatre himself.

Up to now semiotics has concentrated mainly on virtual objects, i.e.

objects basically constructed by theory, sign systems or sign pro
cesses as competence of an ideally conceived sign producer or per
cipient. This has brought about a number of richly abstract schemes;
they remain, however, quite unsatisfactory to make possible an ad
equate analysis of our daily experience as semiotising, continually
meaning producing subjects.

W.A. Koch (1971, 1976) is one of the few authors who have elaborat
ed a consistent theory about semiosis as an actual process that: of
necessity is carried out in a concrete situation and consequently puts
all attention on the performance quality of the percipient. Koch's
starting point is to postulate that a given phenomenon (an object, an
event, human behaviour in general) becomes a text as soon as it
attracts attention, i.e. falls under the focus of a percipient. Text as
a working instrument consequently can only be mentioned if there
exists a situation that is composed of at least three elements: a per
cipient, his focus and a focalised something. Important is the fact
that the idea of 'focus' has been moved away from a strictly behav-
iouristic stimulus-response scheme; on the contrary, it must be
located within the concept of the comprehension process as a cyber
netic c i r c u i t , as a selfregulatory open system.

Focus, t h e n , is the generator of the coherence process; the compre

hension process is based on the interdependence of focus and t e x t . If
 132

the focus is zero, the structure does not exist for the focalising sub
ject. As required by the eventual complexity of a text situation, the
intensity and depth of focus are adjusted and regulated; personal
virtuosity of focal attention admits a variability dependent on the
needs of immediate decoding of a t e x t . At the same time there is
something like automatic focal energy, i.e. focal energy that remains
constant and continuous. If this focal energy is distributed towards a
number of aspects, factors, units, then every isolated aspect (poten
tially an element of a chain process of subtexts) receives relatively
little attention. Concentration of energy means, t h e n , making use of
the possibilities to modulate the focus, i.e. bypassing the less relevant
elements and stressing the more distinctive ones. Whereas attempts at
segmentation usually tackle the external action, Koch wants to start
from internal action, the recipient's focal activity, i.a. the analist
does not describe what the recipient does but what the recipient
applies in attention energy to his own and other's actions, artefacts
and the like. Therefore the segmental decision depends on the
recipient's focus. This way focalising means basically selecting and
rejecting. Semiotising focality can promote everything to a text and
3
deny everything a textual function.

Focus directing conditions, either deliberately organised by the

theatre expedients or freely though not a r b i t r a r i l y selected by the
percipient, may vary the recipient's time and/or energy consumption;
a greater spending of energy - and might this be called 'spectatorial
energy' if it occurs within the theatre framework? - produces a
stronger coherence potentiality. Unusual segment constellations bring
about unusual mobilisation of focal energy. Dependent on the focus
chosen by the playwright, or the theatre makers, or the spectator,
or the metanalist, one and the same performance text can prove to
possess very different structures and, consequently, meanings. Focus
as a relativistic factor does no longer admit the idea of optimal text
s t r u c t u r i n g . This now, to all probability, forms the set of framework
conditions that determine the coherence aspect of theatre semiosis on
 133

the spectator's part. In all modesty, it now calls, of course, for em

pirical testing.

Notes

1 See Almeder (1980:140): "What Peirce meant by the frequent claim

that percepts are mental products is that the percept represents
an unconscious synthesis of sensory or qualitative elements which
must be taken as evidence of our senses. . . . However, . . . for
Peirce, while the percept is a mental construct, it is a construct
of elements which are not mental in o r i g i n . . . . There is a given
element in experience which is unconsciously interpreted by u n
known processes. The given element as interpreted is the per
cept. "
2 See Veltrusky (1964:83): "Whenever an action occurs, our atten
tion is turned to its purpose. The act itself is secondary to us,
the important thing is whether it fills a given purpose. As soon as
an act by itself, however, attracts the attention of the perceiver,
its properties become signs. It then enters into our consciousness
by means of signs and becomes meaning."
3 See Kller (1980:48): "Der Peircesche Denkansatz schliet zugleich
auch die These ein, daB es kein rein werkorientiertes Verstenen
geben kann und daB der VerstehensprozeB nicht identisch ist mit
der Rekonstruktion der Autorintention."
See also Schreurs (1981:28-29): "Le modle situationnel propos
par Koch offre l'intrt peu contestable d'expliquer, au moins
potentiellement, la relativit des structures. Au lieu d'entriner la
dichotomie idelle et mtaphorique, actuellement en vogue, entre
une 'structure profonde', abstraite, logiquement antrieure au
texte, et une 'structure superficielle', concrete, phnomnale -
dichotomie si ancre dans le discours smiotique que l'on tend
parfois a la rifier en perdant de vue son origine purement
spculative - , l'approche sociosmiotique s'installe dlibrment a
un autre niveau d'analyse, a celui de l'activit structurante de
I'interprete. A ce niveau, la structuration n'a plus rien a voir
avec une descente vers des profondeurs quelconques o serait tapi
un ordre immuable, mais elle se prsente, en revanche, comme un
ensemble d'oprations, comme une srie de tatonnements, de con
jectures et de decisions, transformant peu a peu le texte en
structures, modifiant en retour I'attitude de I'interprte et oprant
ainsi progressivement un quilibre mobile entre les donnes
initiales du processus smiotique: les lments apparemment dis-
parats du texte d'une part et la stratgie hermneutique de
I'interprte d'autre p a r t . "
 134

References

Almeder, R. 1980
The Philosophy of Charles S. Peirce ( O x f o r d ) .
Goffman, E. 1973
Frame Analysis (New Y o r k ) .
Koch, W.A. 1971
Varia Semiotica (Hildesheim).
Koch, W.A. ( e d . ) 1976
Textsemiotik und strukturelle Rezeptionstheorie (Hildesheim).
Kller, W. 1980
'Der Peircesche Denkansatz als Grundlage f r die Literaturse-
miotik', ( i n ) A. Eschbach und W. Rader ( H r s g . ) , Literatur-
semiotik I ( T b i n g e n ) , pp.39-63.
Minsky, M. 1975
'A Framework for Representing Knowledge', ( i n ) D. Metzing
( e d . ) , Frame Conceptions and Text Understanding ( B e r l i n , New
Y o r k ) , pp.1-25.
Schreurs, B. 1981
Discours et action dans I'oeuvre dramatique d ' A r t h u r Adamov (Ph.
D.Diss., Louvain).
V e l t r u s k y , J . 1964
'Man and Object in the Theatre', ( i n ) P.L. Garvin ( e d . ) , A
Prague School Reader on Esthetics, Literary S t r u c t u r e , and Style
(Washington), pp.83-91 (1940)
I I I . DESCRIPTIVE THEATRE RESEARCH
THE DRAMATIC DIALOGUE - ORAL OR LITERARY COMMUNICATION?

Erika Fischer-Lichte

1. Introduction

Since time immemorial, the dramatic dialogue has been a favourite sub
ject of investigation. Although the various theorists differ in their
opinion as to which category defines drama - action, dialogue, per
son - they all agree that the dialogue is one of the most important
constitutive elements of drama. Whereas Aristotle considers it to be
1
only the "leading part in the play" , Hegel defines "das eigentlich
Dramatische" as "das Aussprechen der Individuen in dem Kampf ihrer
Interessen und dem Zwiespalt ihrer Charaktere und Leidenschaften"
2
and appraises the dialogue as "die vollstandige dramatische Form" .
In accordance with this definition Wellek and Warren call the dialogue
3
the "ultimate form" of drama .

This paper is based upon the hypothesis that since the dialogue re
presents an essential dramatic category it is to be understood as a
special meaning-creating system. We are not going to investigate the
various meanings that may be constituted by dramatic dialogue nor to
classify them - as meanings referring to action, meanings referring to
a person, meanings referring to space etc. - but to categorize the
different modes and possibilities of the dramatic dialogue to produce
4
meaning, in general .
 138

For this purpose we have to consider that a drama is not sufficiently

described as a work of mere literature. Aristotle, though well aware
that a drama is intended to be performed, nevertheless treated it
primarily as a literary work because he was convinced that "the
spectacle, though an attraction, is the least artistic of all the parts,
and has least to do with the art of poetry. The tragic effect is quite
possible without a public performance and actors" 5 .
Thus he founded the tradition of dramatic theory which tries to
describe and analyse the drama in terms of literature only.

On the contrary, later theorists - as for instance Diderot, Lessing,

Brecht - have insisted that a drama is basically a theatrical piece,
and cannot be defined without regard to its possible staging. "The
unending quarrel about the nature of drama, whether it is a literary
genre or a theatrical piece, is perfectly f u t i l e . The one does not ex
clude the other. Drama is a work of literature in its own r i g h t ; it
does not need anything but simple reading to enter the consciousness
of the public. At the same time, it is a text that can, and mostly is
intended t o , be used as the verbal component of theatrical perfor-
7
mance."

In other words, the drama is a literary as well as a theatrical work,

8
a monomedial - i.e. literal - as well as a multimedial t e x t . If we are
going to investigate the special modes in which dramatic dialogue may
constitute meaning, we have to consider that the meaning-producing
process can be executed with literary signs as well as with a set of
theatrical signs
as for instance linguistic, paralinguistic, mimical,
9
gestic, proxemic signs .

Therefore, in this study dramatic dialogue shall be investigated with

respect to the question whether it represents a form of literary or of
oral communication.

The dramatic dialogue as a literary dialogue always points to a situa

tion of direct communication. For the alternation of names - Macbeth/
Lady Macbeth - signifies the t u r n - t a k i n g of the speaker-hearer-role.
 139

It functions as a sign of the u n d e r l y i n g t u r n - t a k i n g system and i n

forms the reader of the mutually actual speaker. Consequently the
alternation of names indicates the simulation of a situation of direct
communication.

In consideration of this basic condition t h e r e can be distinguished two

extremely different types of literary dramatic dialogue. T h e f i r s t is
characterized by a predominance of lingustic features t h a t are common
in written language and the second by the prevailing use of such
10
features that denote spoken language . These two types represent
the extreme forms of literary dramatic dialogue, which perfectly
realized occur relatively seldom. Mostly, we shall find various forms
of transition between these two.

The literary dramatic dialogue can be described as a dialogue, ex

clusively performed in linguistic signs and with predominant features
either of w r i t t e n or of spoken language.

On the other hand the theatrical dramatic dialogue not only signifies a
situation of direct communication but simulates i t . Consequently, the
dramatic dialogue in the theatre is performed in linguistic as well as
in paralinguistic, mimical, gestic a n d / o r proxemic signs. T h e persons
speaking on stage use the same sign systems as are commonly used in
conversation. According to the two types of l i t e r a r y dramatic dialogue
this can be done, principally, in two totally d i f f e r e n t w a y s . In the
f i r s t case, a dialogue composed in l i t e r a r y language, is performed as
if it were an oral communication; in the second case, a dialogue w r i t
ten in a language simulating spoken language is realized as oral com
munication.

Thus, with respect to a semiotic as well as a linguistic approach we

a r r i v e at four types of dramatic dialogue:

Type semiotic linguistic

I. literary literary
II. literary oral
III. oral literary
IV. oral oral
 140

In the following we are going to investigate these four types of

dramatic dialogue to clarify and elaborate the special mode in which
everyone of them attempts to create meaning.

2. Four types of dramatic dialogue

2 . 1 . The Literary dramatic dialogue

1. The l i t e r a r y / l i t e r a r y dramatic dialogue is characterized by the pre

dominance of linguistic features, which are quite uncommon in spoken
language, as for instance the use of a special vocabulary, construc-
11
t i o n , syntactic structure and style . We are going to investigate this
type of dramatic dialogue with reference to one of its most extreme
forms to be found quite often in the Lyric Dramas of the Romanticism
or Neoromanticism, as for example, in Shelley's Prometheus Unbound,
Mallarm's Hrodiade, or in the small lyric pieces of Hugo von Hof-
mannsthal. In his fragment Der Tod des Tizian (1892) the disciples of
Tizian having assembled before the death of the master are sitting in
his garden and conversing.

Desiderio an der Rampe zu Gianino

Siehst du die Stadt, wie jetzt sie drunten ruht?
Gehllt in Duft und goldne Abendglut
Und rosig helles Gelb und helles Grau
Zu ihren Fen schwarzer Schatten Blau,
In Schnheit lockend, feuchtverklarter Reinheit?
Allein in diesem Duft, dem ahnungsvollen,
Da wohnt die Halichkeit und die Gemeinheit,
Und bei den Tieren wohnen dort die Tollen;
Und was die Feme weise dir v e r h l l t ,
1st ekelhaft und t r b und schal e r f l l t
Von Wesen, die die Schnheit nicht erkennen
Und ihre Welt mit unseren Worten nennen . . .
Denn unsre Wonne oder unsre Pein
Hat mit der ihren nur das Wort gemein . . .
Und liegen wir in tiefem Schlaf befangen,
So gleicht der unsre ihrem Schlafe nicht.
Da schlafen Purpurblten, goldne Schlangen,
 141

Da schlaft ein B e r g , in dem Titanen hmmern -

Sie aber schlafen, wie die Austern dammern.
Antonio: halb aufgerichtet
Darum umgeben Gitter, hohe, schlanke,
Den Garten, den der Meister liel erbauen,
Darum durch ppigblumendes Geranke
Soll man das Auen ahnen mehr als schauen.
Paris: ebenso
Das ist die Lehre der verschlungnen Gnge.
Batista: ebenso
Das ist die groe Kunst des Hintergrundes
Und das Geheimnis zweifelhafter Lichter.
Tizianello: mit geschlossenen Augen
Das macht so schn die halbverwehten Klange,
So schn die dunklen Worte toter Dichter
Und alle Dinge, denen wir entsagen.
Paris
Das ist der Zauber aus versunknen Tagen
Und ist der Quell des grenzenlosen Schnen,
Denn wir ersticken, wo wir uns gewnnen. 12

We do not want to interpret this dialogue and determine its possible

13
meanings but we intend to analyze the particular methods in which
it tries to constitute meaning. For this purpose it seems necessary to
describe the special use of language made here.

In the cited passage there are almost no linguistic signs indicating

the context of the actual surrounding situation. Only a few pronomina
of the f i r s t and second person are used ( ' d u ' , ' d i r ' , 'unsre Worte',
'unsre Wonne', 'der unsre', ' w i r ' ) as well as a few deictic pronomina
('drunten', 'jetzt', 'dort', 'in diesem Duft', 'da', 'das'). And these
pronomina seem to have lost their ability to point to a concrete per
son, object, time, place or action. The 'du' and 'dir' refer less to the
addressed person than to people in general. The 'dort' and 'da' do
not point to a special place on the stage or to an imagined being or
object before the stage, but have the function of establishing a dis
tance between the speaker, the hearer and their friends on one side
and all the other people on the other.
 142

In accordance with this use of the pronomina extinguishing carefully

any reference to a concrete person, time or place, the t u r n - t a k i n g
system is restricted to the alternation of the names Desiderio, A n
tonio, Paris, Batista, Tizianello: the words they speak do not give
the slightest hint to the process of t u r n - t a k i n g . Neither the prono
mina nor the use of the verbs nor a semantic opposition between the
lines of two different speakers mark a change. One could read the
whole text of the dialogue, assigned to the five different speakers, as
if it were the text of one person only: Antonio continues Desiderio's
14
thoughts as well as afterwards Paris, Batista and Tizianell do

This dialogue renounces almost completely all the methods typical and
characteristic for a conversation. On the contrary, it prefers methods
often used in poems: euphony, r h y t h m , rhyme, meter, special rela
tions between single words, syntactic structures, images, metaphors.
The thus constituted semantic network has to be analyzed to grasp
the meaning of the spoken t e x t . For the text represents - so to
speak - a reality of its own: a reality composed and created by lan
guage and language only without almost any references to the situa
tion - the approaching death of Tizian - to the special character or
constitution of one of the persons or to real things in real places
being assumed as actually on stage or being imagined as actually on
15
stage . The methods realized in this dialogue are poetic methods
16
- the linguistic signs thus turned into poetic signs create a meaning
by relating to one another and not by relating to any object assumed
as existing in the world beyond the borders of language.

In other words, the process by which this dialogue constitutes mean

i n g , is performed by linguistic signs that do not point to other signs
nor to any concrete objects, but to one another. Thus in the dialogue
a semantic network is constructed which as a whole is almost totally
independent of anything outside the reality of language. To grasp its
meaning it is not necessary to establish any relation between the
words and sentences of the dialogue and objects or events being sup
posed as existing and occuring in the pretended reality of the play
 143

- the near death of the master, the gathering of his disciples, the
villa of Tizian, its porch, the garden, its plants etc. - or between
the words and any emotions, personal traits of psychological condi
tions of the dramatis personae, but to find out all possible relations
between the sounds, words, syntagmata, constructions and sentences
17
in the text of the dialogue as a whole . Otherwise it will not be
possible to attribute any meaning to i t .

Thus, this dialogue represents an extreme form of the f i r s t category

of dramatic dialogue. But even if the t u r n - t a k i n g system is shaped
out more distinctly, if the reference to the person speaking or ad
dressed is marked more clearly - as, for instance, by using the per
sonal pronomina of the f i r s t and second person - it remains a typical
characteristic of this category of dramatic dialogue that everything
that is to be said, indicated or signified is expressed by the text the
dramatic personae are supposed to speak. To understand the meaning
of the dialogue there is no need to resort to any additional informa
tion as, for instance, given in the by Ingarden so called 'Neben-
18
text' which may refer to the way the dramatis persona speaking or
listening looks, to the loudness, pitch or tempo of its speech, to some
gestures, movements or the like - that means: to any paralinguistic,
mimical, gestic or proxemic signs. The meaning of the dialogue is
constituted exclusively by the linguistic signs used in the dialogue by
the dramatis personae themselves, i.e. by the 'Haupttext'.

We do not need to stress this peculiarity of the f i r s t type of dramatic

dialogue anly longer since in the ample literature about the classic
French or German drama it is elaborated often enough with an abun-
19
dance of appropriate examples

Summarizing we can state that in this type of dramatic dialogue the

linguistic signs used by the dramatis personae are the only ones that
function as and form a meaning-creating system.
 144

2. The second t y p e of d r a m a t i c d i a l o g u e , t h e l i t e r a r y / o r a l o n e , does

not only s i g n i f y a s i t u a t i o n of d i r e c t communication but, in a d d i t i o n ,
tries to simulate - more o r less g e n u i n e l y - s p o k e n l a n g u a g e b y ex
t r a c t i n g and e l a b o r a t i n g some - in each case d i f f e r e n t - characteristic
f e a t u r e s w h i c h a r e commonly c o n s i d e r e d as t y p i c a l f o r s p o k e n l a n -
20
guage . C o n s e q u e n t l y t h e s e f e a t u r e s v a r y in d e p e n d e n c e of t h e
special historic and social conditions: The 'spoken language' in the
dialogue of a 'Sturm und Drang'-drama is q u i t e different from the
'spoken l a n g u a g e ' used in t h e dialogues of t h e n a t u r a l i s t i c drama and
so o n . This type of dialogue occurs in all f o r m s of r e a l i s t i c drama,
especially frequently in the naturalistic, the kitchen-sink or con
temporary 'milieu' drama ( f o r example in the plays of Frank Xaver
21
Kroetz or Martin Sperr)

The more the language of the persons engaged in conversation is

supposed to simulate spoken language, the more the stage direc
tions - the 'Nebentext' - enlarge. For i f t h e l i n g u i s t i c s i g n s used b y
the dramatis personae signify spoken language t h e y w i l l cease t o be
the only r e l e v a n t s i g n s f o r c o n s t i t u t i n g t h e meaning of t h e d i a l o g u e .
In addition, linguistic s i g n s a r e needed t h a t i n d i c a t e all t h o s e signs
used b y t h e d r a m a t i s personae s i m u l t a n e o u s l y a s , f o r i n s t a n c e , para-
linguistic, mimical, gestic or proxemic signs. The stage directions
have t h e f u n c t i o n of d e s c r i b i n g t h e use of t h e s e n o n - l i n g u i s t i c signs
more o r less precisely.
Consequently the 'Nebentext' may g r o w to a
22
rather impressive extent .

We are g o i n g t o i n v e s t i g a t e t h i s mode of m e a n i n g - c r e a t i n g with refe

rence to an example given by naturalistic drama. In his play Die
Ratten (1911) G e r h a r d Hauptmann c o n f r o n t s dramatis personae of t h e
lower classes w i t h t h o s e of t h e m i d d l e classes. Especially t h e p e r s o n s
of t h e lower classes use a language s i m u l a t i n g a k i n d of s p o k e n l a n -
23
g u a g e i n d i c a t i n g t h e social s t a t u s of t h e s p e a k e r

Die P i p e r k a r c k a : Nu w i l l i c k et aber mal s e h n , Frau J o h n .

Frau J o h n : Wat d e n n , Pauline? Wat w o l l ' n Se d e n n sehn?
Die P i p e r k a r c k a : H a t t i c k laufen j e k o n n t , w a r i c k f r h e r j e k o m m . Das
w i l l j e t z t s e h n , w a r u m jekommen b i n .
 145

Frau J o h n , deren fast kriechende Freundlichkeiten von angstvoll he

b e n d e n L i p p e n gekommen s i n d , e r b l e i c h t a u f eine u n h e i l v e r k n d e n d e
Weise u n d s c h w e i g t . Sie g e h t nach dem K c h e n s c h r a n k , r e i t die
Kaffeemhle h e r a u s u n d s c h t t e l t h e f t i g K a f f e e b o h n e n h i n e i n . Sie
s e t z t s i c h , q u e t s c h t die Kaffeemhle e n e r g i s c h z w i s c h e n d i e Knie u n d
s t a r r t mit einem v e r z e h r e n d e n A u s d r u c k namenlosen Hasses z u r P i p e r
itarcka h i n b e r .
F r a u J o h n : So? - A c h ! - Wat w i s t e sehn? Wat w i s t e n u j e t z t uff
eemal sehn? - D e t , d e t w a t de h a s t mit d e i n e zwee Hande e r w r j e n
jewollt.
Die P i p e r k a r c h k a : Ich? -
24
Frau J o h n : Wiste n i c h liijen? Ich w e r d e d i r a n z e i j e n .

The turn-taking system is clearly shaped out: frequent use of the

pronomina of the first and second person, use of the verb in the
f i r s t and second p e r s o n , f r e q u e n t use of i n t e r r o g a t i v e w o r d s and s e n
tences as well as semantic o p p o s i t i o n s relate the t e x t spoken by the
dramatis personae t o t h e c h a r a c t e r s p e a k i n g as well as t o t h e char
acter addressed and through this alternation indicate distinctly the
f u n c t i o n i n g of t h e t u r n - t a k i n g process.

T h e i m i t a t i o n of a special d i a l e c t (as common and g e n e r a l l y k n o w n as

common in B e r l i n ) g i v e s t h e impression t h a t t h i s d i a l o g u e is p e r f o r m e d
25
b y real people i n a c e r t a i n c o n c r e t e place . Moreover the syntactic
structures as f o r example the frequent reductions and elliptic con
structions convince the reader, that the impression evoked by the
d i a l e c t is a b s o l u t e l y r i g h t : h e r e s p o k e n l a n g u a g e is simulated

On the other hand, these reductions function as s i g n s pointing to

something not being expressed d i r e c t l y by the spoken w o r d s : only a
small p a r t of t h e possible meanings of t h e d i a l o g u e is c r e a t e d b y t h e
t e x t t h e d r a m a t i s personae s p e a k . For t h e s y n t a c t i c s t r u c t u r e s as well
as t h e f r e q u e n t use of dashes - and in o t h e r scenes of p o i n t s - indi
cate an 'absence' t h a t is t o be u n d e r s t o o d as h i g h l y s i g n i f i c a n t . This
absence may be a m e a n i n g f u l silence o r a s u b s t i t u t e f o r a n o t h e r sign
to be imagined as realized at t h i s very moment - in any case, the
absence has t o be i n t e r p r e t e d i f t h e meaning of t h e d i a l o g u e is t o be
understood
 146

Accordingly, the text of the dramatis personae has to be investigated

with regard to two different aspects: 1 . in reference to what it says
and 2. in reference to what it conceals using substitutes. For the
meaning of the text will emerge only if the interference of these two
systems of relations is considered properly.

Thus, the 'Haupttext' of the dialogue constitutes meaning by combin-

28
ing two kinds of linguistic - and, in addition, graphemic - signs:
those referring to certain facts, events, opinions, desires, emotions
or orders e t c . , they have to transmit by performing the respective
speech acts, and those marking an absence that might, under special
conditions, refer to a certain emotion, opinion, state of mind e t c . , by
functioning as a substitute, impelling the reader to imagine the real
ization of another appropriate sign. But unlike the linguistic signs
of the 'Nebentext', referring to a paralinguistic, mimical, gestic or
proxemic sign that has to be imagined as realized, the signs of the
'Haupttext' indicating an absence, do not give any information or i n
struction about the corresponding sign that might be realized at this
moment. The possible meanings of these signs remain,
therefore,
29
rather indefinite. Their vagueness points to the incompleteness of
the literary text of the dialogue, thus requiring its completion either
in the mind of the reader or on stage: the text has to be completed if
a meaning is to be attributed and, vice versa, its completion is only
possible if a meaning is already attributed.

This peculiarity directly leads us to the investigation of the 'Neben

text'. For it makes quite clear that without reference to the meaning
of the 'Nebentext' the 'Haupttext' cannot be adequately understood.
The 'Nebentext' is composed of linguistic signs describing the non
verbal behaviour of the dramatis personae. Furthermore it may i n
clude linguistic signs referring to the appearance of the room in
which the action is assumed to take place, to the clothing, hairstyle,
make-up and the like of the dramatis personae, or to some objects
being of special importance.
 147

To our purpose only the text describing the behaviour of the drama
tis personae is of any interest. For we are not going to investigate
the way a drama as a whole is able to constitute meaning, but only
the possible modes the dramatic dialogue may realize.

In our example, the linguistic signs of the 'Nebentext' point to a

number of -verbal signs, the dramatis persona 'Frau John' is sup
posed to bring f o r t h . They refer to paralinguistic signs ('kriechende
Freundlichkeiten')/ mimical signs ('angstvoll bebende Lippen'; 'er
bleicht auf unheilverkndende Weise'; s t a r r t mit einem verzehrenden
Ausdruck namenlosen Hasses'), gestic signs ('reit die Kaffeemhle
heraus'; 'schttelt heftig Kaffebohnen hinein'; 'quetscht die Kaffee
mhle energisch zwischen die Knie') and proxemic signs ('geht nach
dem Kchenschrank'; 'setzt s i c h ' ) . It is evident that not all of the
here described signs are intended to be realized on stage: t u r n i n g
30
pale, for instance, is - as Descartes already emphasized - a sign
not to be produced willingly. This elucidates that the 'Nebentext11 is
not adequately interpreted if taken as an instruction for the process
of staging only, b u t , on the contrary, that it has to be understood
as a meaning-carrying element functioning equally well in the context
of the dramatic dialogue as it functions as a merely literary phaenom-
31
enon . Accordingly, the specification of the signs being supposed as
realized by the dramatis personae, is rather a literary description
than a precise instruction: 'angstvoll', 'unheilverkndend', 'verzeh
render Ausdruck namenlosen Hasses', ' h e f t i g ' , 'energisch', are ex
pressions implying an interpretation of the behaviour rather than an
exactly formulated direction for its reproduction.

In any case, whether the 'Nebentext' is an interpretative literary de

scription or whether it includes an almost precise instruction, it is
always closely related to the 'Haupttext'. The meanings created by
the 'Nebentext' influence the meanings of the 'Haupttext': they may
amplify, augment, modify, neutralize, or contradict them. Conse
quently, the meaning of the dramatic dialogue is to be constituted as
the result of a process relating the meanings of the 'Nebentext' to
 148

those of the ' H a u p t t e x t ' . It springs but from a continuous interaction

between the two d i f f e r e n t textual systems.

In opposition to t h e f i r s t t y p e of dramatic dialogue, which uses l i n

guistic signs which r e f e r to the propositions of the dramatis personae
only, in the second t y p e we have to discern the linguistic signs in
regard of two - or more e x a c t l y : t h r e e - functions they may f u l f i l :
those r e f e r r i n g to the propositions of the dramatis personae - includ
ing those indicating a pause or a silence no matter how it is to be
i n t e r p r e t e d - and those referring to the nonverbal behaviour of the
dramatis personae, i.e. to paralinguistic, mimical, gestic, proxemic
signs being assumed as produced by the dramatis personae. Ac
cordingly, this type of dramatic dialogue creates meaning by the
alternate or interacting use of these two 'kinds' of linguistic signs,
which the reader has to relate to one another in order to grasp the
meaning of the dialogue as a whole.

2 . 2 . T h e Theatrical dramatic dialogue

T h e theatrical dramatic dialogue always simulates a situation of direct

communication insofar as it is performed by means of all sign-systems
being employed in every conversation: linguistic, paralinguistic,
mimical, gestic and proxemic signs. The meaning of the dialogue,
therefore, is constituted by the special interrelations between them
all

Of particular interest in our context are the relations between the

linguistic signs on the one hand and the nonverbal signs on the
other. For reasons of economy we are going to r e s t r i c t our research
to these relations and leave all the o t h e r , possibly to be established
between the d i f f e r e n t nonverbal signs, aside.
33
Jirf V e l t r u s k y has pointed out :

In the t h e a t r e , the linguistic s i g n - s y s t e m , which intervenes t h r o u g h

t h e dramatic t e x t , always conflicts with and combines a c t i n g , which
belongs to an e n t i r e l y d i f f e r e n t sign-system. All the other compo-
 149

nents, such as music, scenic sets, and so f o r t h , can be eliminated by

the text itself; by the same token, the intervention of the sign-sys
tems to which they belong can be reduced to 'zero degree', unless
they re-enter the theatrical structure through the intermediary of the
actor. Therefore, the general function of drama in the shaping of the
semiotics of theatre can be brought out only by means of confronting
the two sign-systems that are invariably present, that is, language
and acting.

T h u s , the relation between language and acting - i.e. between lin

guistic signs on the one hand and paralinguistic, mimical, gestic and
proxemic signs on the other - establish a particular mode of signify
ing and, t h u s , function as and form a special meaning-creating sys
tem that is to be understood as constitutive for the theatrical dramat
ic dialogue.

Although various modes of combination between those two systems are

possible - and in the course of the history of European theatre have
actually been realized - we are going to investigate the two extreme
forms only: language dominating acting and acting dominating lan-
34
guage . Of course, in most cases, the dialogue will represent a
mixed form or a special form of transition between these two, re
spectively. But since in our study only the fundamental modes are
concerned in which the theatrical dramatic dialogue creates meaning,
it seems justified to restrict our investigation to the two extreme
forms, mentioned above: of which the f i r s t type corresponds to our
t h i r d category of dramatic dialogues: o r a l / l i t e r a r y , and the second to
our f o u r t h : oral/oral.

Before starting with our investigation in detail - i.e. in reference to

each of these two types separately - we have to clarify the general
possibilities and modes in which the nonverbal signs can be related to
35
the linguistic signs . Since the process of meaning-generating, the
semiosis, is always performed in the interrelationship of the three
semiotic dimensions: syntactic, semantic, pragmatic - the nonverbal
signs may, in particular, refer to each of the three dimensions of the
linguistic signs, simultaneously produced. Accordingly, the nonverbal
signs, therefore, will f u l f i l different functions. Following Scherer' ,
 150

we shall call these functions the parasyntactic, parasemantic, para-

pragmatic f u n c t i o n s .

With respect to the parasyntactic dimension, the nonverbal signs

above all, have t h e function of segmenting the current of speech.
Paralinguistic signs, functioning in this way are, for instance,
stress, accent, intonation, pauses. By stress, a certain word or part
of the speech may be emphasized in order to mark its importance;
pauses may s i g n a l i z e t h e end of a p a r a g r a p h o r theme and t h e t r a n s i
tion to a new one; the intonation may show whether the person
s p e a k i n g is c o n t i n u i n g his a r g u m e n t a t i o n o r w h e t h e r i t has come t o an
-. 37
e n d ; a n d so on
Special g e s t u r e s can f u n c t i o n in a similar w a y . A r a i s i n g of t h e e y e
b r o w o r a q u i c k d i r e c t glance may emphasize a s e n t e n c e , o r m a r k t h e
arrival at a n ; important a r g u m e n t o r c o n c l u s i o n j u s t as a nod of the
head o r some r h y t h m i c g e s t u r e s of t h e h a n d s m a y . Such g e s t u r e s in
particular a r e able t o accent o r t r a c e t h e d e v e l o p m e n t of i d e a s . T h e y
38
b e l o n g t o t h e class of g e s t u r e s , Ekman has called ' I l l u s t r a t o r s '

Their function can be f u l f i l l e d by proxemic signs, as w e l l : a step

f o r w a r d t o t h e a d d r e s s e d p e r s o n may s i g n a l i z e t h e i m p o r t a n c e of the
words (to be) u t t e r e d ; walking u p a n d d o w n may r h y t h m i c a l l y accent
o r t r a c e t h e f l o w of ideas j u s t as t h e g e s t u r e s of t h e h a n d s d o , and
39
so on

T h e p a r a s y n t a c t i c f u n c t i o n s of t h e n o n v e r b a l signs are especially im

portant because they contribute to a clearer organization of the
s p o k e n t e x t a n d make i t t h u s b e t t e r intelligible.

T h e parasemantic f u n c t i o n s of t h e n o n v e r b a l s i g n s may be d e f i n e d as
the special relations the nonverbal signs establish to the possible
meanings of t h e s i m u l t a n e o u s l y realized l i n g u i s t i c s i g n s t h e y r e f e r t o .
Among these functions we have do d i s t i n g u i s h , above a l l , t h e func
tions of substitution, amplification, modification, neutralization, con-
tradiction40
 151

Nonverbal signs may substitute linguistic s i g n s in a g e n e r a l l y coded

way o r t h e y may be u n d e r s t o o d rather by intuition. I f a nod is used
to substitute a verbal affirmation or a deictic gesture in o r d e r to
s u b s t i t u t e a v e r b a l i n s t r u c t i o n , t h e gestic s i g n s can be i n t e r p r e t e d in
r e f e r e n c e t o a special u n d e r l y i n g c o d e , g e n e r a l l y common in o u r cul
ture. Here t h e g e s t i c s i g n s f u n c t i o n as emblems: t h a t means, as s i g n s
41
h a v i n g a q u a s i - l e x i c a l meaning . Contrariwise, a pleading look, s u b -
42
s t i t u t i n g a v e r b a l e n t r e a t y , has t o be c o m p r e h e n d e d b y i n t u i t i o n
In both cases, t h e u t t e r a n c e of t h e s p e a k e r can be u n d e r s t o o d only
by grasping the special interaction between the linguistic and non
v e r b a l s i g n s , w h i c h complete each o t h e r .

The nonverbal s i g n s a r e able t o a m p l i f y t h e meaning of t h e linguistic

signs in different ways. A gesture or an intonation, for instance,
may illustrate the meaning of the linguistic signs by indicating the
size, shape, e x t e n t e t c . of t h e o b j e c t o r p e r s o n r e f e r r e d t o b y t h e
43
linguistic signs . O r t h e n o n v e r b a l s i g n s may r e p e a t t h e meaning
constituted by the linguistic signs: if t h e s e n t e n c e : 'I am so s a d ' is
s p o k e n b y use of c o r r e s p o n d i n g paralinguistic signs - f o r example, a
sobbing or trembling voice - , while the
face shows t h e e x p r e s s i o n
44
k n o w n as t h e t y p i c a l e x p r e s s i o n of sadness , and t h e head and t h e
body are s l i g h t l y b e n t f o r w a r d , t h e realized n o n l i n g u i s t i c signs con
stitute the same meaning as t h e l i n g u i s t i c signs and t h u s emphasize
it.

The nonverbal signs may modify t h e meaning of t h e l i n g u i s t i c signs

by strengthening, weakening or slightly alterating it. If, for in
stance, a sentence is constructed as an a f f i r m a t i v e p r o p o s i t i o n , the
intonation is able to change it into an interrogation, exclamation,
o r d e r , d o u b t f u l utterance etc. So, f o r its adequate i n t e r p r e t a t i o n , the
performed speech act requires not only the knowledge of the per
f o r m a t i v e v e r b and t h e f o l l o w i n g p r o p o s i t i o n b u t also t h e c o r r e c t per
c e p t i o n of t h e i n t o n a t i o n . T h u s , t h e i n t o n a t i o n is capable of s t r e n g t h
ening the speech act, performed by linguistic signs, o r of altering
it. In all of t h e s e cases t h e i n t e r r e l a t i o n of t h e n o n v e r b a l s i g n s is of
 152

special interest: if f o r instance, the performed speech act is an or

der, strengthened by a corresponding intonation, a friendly smile o r
a s y m p a t h e t i c g e s t u r e m a y , in t h e i r t u r n , weaken i t .

A particular f o r m of m o d i f i c a t i o n is t h e n e u t r a l i z a t i o n : t h e n e u t r a l i z a
tion can be defined as a reduction of the meaning, the linguistic
signs constitute, to a high degree. Linguistic signs, expressing pity
o r compassion - 'I p i t y y o u so m u c h . Can I help you?' - s p o k e n in an
i n d i f f e r e n t t o n e of voice and w i t h all s i g n s of i n d i f f e r e n c e in face and
posture, do not lose t h e i r meaning e n t i r e l y b u t c h a n g e i t in s u c h a
way that the verbally uttered sympathy has t o be u n d e r s t o o d as a
merely conventional attitude and not as t h e expression of a deeply
felt emotion.

Supposing i t t o be t h e case t h a t t h e n o n v e r b a l s i g n s w o u l d not o n l y

neutralize the meaning of the linguistic signs but that they would
constitute a meaning completely opposite to that of the linguistic
signs, t h e n t h e y w o u l d c o n t r a d i c t t h e m . With r e g a r d t o o u r e x a m p l e ,
just mentioned, this would happen, if the words were spoken in a
tone incapable of c o n c e a l i n g a s e c r e t d e l i g h t of t h e s p e a k e r , accom
p a n i e d b y a h a p p y s m i l e , g l i t t e r i n g e y e s , t h e raise of t h e h e a d , and
so forth. If the linguistic and the nonverbal signs thus contradict
each o t h e r , the meaning of the respective part of t h e d i a l o g u e can
only be a d e q u a t e l y interpreted with reference to the situation, the
relation between the interlocutors, and t h e special c o n d i t i o n s of the
speaker, or with r e f e r e n c e t o a l e a d i n g s i g n - s y s t e m t h a t can be c l e a r
ly i d e n t i f i e d . C o n s e q u e n t l y , t h e c o n t r a d i c t i o n may e i t h e r f u n c t i o n as a
sign f o r t h e simultaneous e x i s t e n c e of o p p o s i t e emotions and feelings
in t h e s p e a k e r , o r i t is decreased in d e p e n d e n c e of t h e l e a d i n g s y s
tem: i n t h e case of p r e d o m i n a n c e of t h e l i n g u i s t i c signs the expres
sion of sadness prevails o v e r t h e e x p r e s s i o n of j o y , whereas in the
case of p r e d o m i n a n c e of t h e n o n v e r b a l s i g n s t h e j o y is t o be u n d e r -
45
stood as t h e more r e l e v a n t emotion

C o n c e r n i n g t h e p a r a p r a g m a t i c f u n c t i o n s of t h e n o n v e r b a l signs being
related to the linguistic signs, we have t o d i s t i n g u i s h t w o different
 153

fundamental possibilities: 1 . the nonverbal signs may refer to the

speaker, the hearer and their interaction; 2. the nonverbal signs
f u n c t i o n as m e a n i n g - c a r r y i n g elements of t h e t u r n - t a k i n g system.

In the first case, the nonverbal signs may f u n c t i o n as expression

with regard to the speaker, as reaction with regard to the hearer,
and as s i g n s establishing interactive relations between speaker and
hearer.

Expressing a general emotional state constantly present during the

c o u r s e of t h e d i a l o g u e , t h e n o n v e r b a l s i g n s may i n f l u e n c e t h e meaning
of the linguistic signs as a w h o l e . They may be realized, for in
stance, as signs indicating aggressiveness, sadness, joy, anger,
absent-mindedness and so o n . T h e s e s i g n s are n o t r e l a t e d t o single
l i n g u i s t i c s i g n s b u t t o t h e whole t e x t u t t e r e d b y t h e speaker.

T h e n o n v e r b a l s i g n s i n d i c a t i n g t h e r e a c t i o n of t h e h e a r e r may c o n c e r n
the attention of the hearer, insofar as they signalize that he is
actually listening; his e v a l u a t i o n of t h e s p e a k e r ' s w o r d s , by nodding
or shaking the head, smiling,
frowning etc.; o r his comprehension,
46
by n o d d i n g , f r o w n i n g and the like

Functioning as an element o f the t u r n - t a k i n g system, the nonverbal

s i g n s may p r e p a r e a n d p o i n t t o t h e a l t e r n a t i o n o r maintenance of t h e
speaker-role: if, f o r i n s t a n c e , t h e s p e a k e r has u t t e r e d a g r a m m a t i c a l
ly complete sentence, but uses a p r o g r e s s i o n a l intonation, he shows
that he w i l l go on s p e a k i n g . On t h e c o n t r a r y , w h e n he changes his
posture, steps b a c k , casts d o w n t h e eyes e t c . , he s i g n a l i z e s t h a t he
has f i n i s h e d a n d t h a t ( o n e o f ) t h e o t h e r p a r t i c i p a n t s may speak in his
turn. With respect to these f u n c t i o n s , the nonverbal signs facilitate
t h e c o m p r e h e n s i o n of t h e s p o k e n t e x t , because t h e y i n d i c a t e w h e t h e r
t h e s p e a k e r himself t h i n k s his u t t e r a n c e is completed o r w o u l d l i k e t o
47
continue

The knowledge of t h e s e p o s s i b l e r e l a t i o n s between t h e l i n g u i s t i c and

the nonverbal signs p r o v e s t o be i n d i s p e n s a b l e f o r t h e investigation
of t h e t h e a t r i c a l d r a m a t i c d i a l o g u e as a m e a n i n g - c r e a t i n g system: in-
 154

s o f a r as t h e t h e a t r i c a l d r a m a t i c d i a l o g u e i s , n e c e s s a r i l y , composed of
linguistic and nonverbal signs as p a r a l i n g u i s t i c , mimical, gestic and
proxemic signs, i t c r e a t e s meaning b y u s i n g all t h e s e k i n d s of s i g n s
48
and by c o m b i n i n g a n d r e l a t i n g them t o one a n o t h e r . T h u s , the
i n t e r a c t i o n between t h e d i f f e r e n t s i g n - s y s t e m s f u n c t i o n s as a m e a n i n g -
creating system on i t s o w n , w h i c h is t o be r e c o g n i z e d as f u n d a m e n t a l
as well as c o n s t i t u t i v e , with respect to the theatrical dramatic dia-
49
logue

1. In t h e t h i r d t y p e of d r a m a t i c d i a l o g u e , t h e o r a l / l i t e r a r y o n e , this
interaction is realized u n d e r t h e special c o n d i t i o n of a clear predom
inance of t h e l i n g u i s t i c s i g n s . T h a t means: language dominates a c t i n g .
Consequently, the linguistic signs will function as t h e leading sign
system.

Accordingly, t h e t h i r d t y p e is t o be i n v e s t i g a t e d in close r e l a t i o n t o
the first type of d r a m a t i c d i a l o g u e . For t h e s t a g i n g of t h e f i r s t in
v o l v e s t h e f o r m a t i o n of t h e t h i r d - at l e a s t , in most cases . So t h e
special problems of t h e t h i r d t y p e m a i n l y result from the peculiarity
of the f i r s t .

The first type constitutes meaning b y e x p r e s s i n g e v e r y t h i n g t h a t is

t o be s a i d , indicated or s i g n i f i e d , by the linguistic signs being s u p
posed as used by the dramatis personae. Frequently the linguistic
signs of t h e d i a l o g u e a r e combined in s u c h a w a y , that the compre
h e n s i o n of i t s meaning is o n l y p o s s i b l e b y r e p e a t e d r e a d i n g .

I f such a d r a m a t i c d i a l o g u e is p e r f o r m e d on s t a g e , t h e s e t w o aspects
a r e t o be c o n s i d e r e d s u f f i c i e n t l y . T h a t means: since t h e w o r d s spoken
by the dramatis personae function as t h e essential meaning-creating
system, they must be uttered in a way permitting their immediate
understanding.

Hence f o l l o w t h e special f u n c t i o n s of t h e n o n v e r b a l s i g n s used in t h e

t h i r d t y p e of d r a m a t i c d i a l o g u e : t h e y a r e s u p p o s e d t o lead t h e s p e c
tator to a better u n d e r s t a n d i n g of t h e m e a n i n g s , c o n s t i t u t e d by the
linguistic signs.
 155

This v e r y function involves a special choice to be made among all

possible kinds of nonverbal signs. They have to be selected according
to their ability of elucidating the meaning of the linguistic signs.

The parasyntactic functions, the nonverbal signs may f u l f i l , seem to

be the most important. For, in particular, a distinct segmentation of
the current of speech may be able to make the organization of the
spoken text more transparent. Accordingly, among the nonverbal
signs f i r s t of all those will be chosen that have the function to
stress, to emphasize, to accent single words, expressions, sentences,
paragraphs or to delineate the progress of the argumentation. Most
suitable for this purpose are some paralinguistic signs as, for i n
stance, stress, pitch of voice, loudness, articulation, r h y t h m , tempo,
intonation, pauses. As corresponding gestic signs, some rhythmic
gestures of the hands or movements of the head, partially even of the
body, could be enumerated, whereas walking up and down, stopping
and going on are to be listed as proxemic signs quite appropiate to
the purpose of segmentation.

Thus fulfilling parasyntactic functions, the nonverbal signs will be

able to structure the text spoken by the dramatis personae, and to
outline the special relations between the linguistic signs, in order to
facilitate the spectator's efforts to grasp their meaning.

With respect to the parasemantic functions of the nonverbal signs,

one has to take into account a considerable restriction of their pos
sibilities. The function of substitution, for example, can be entirely
excluded. For, if everything is expressed by linguistic signs, there
is no need for any substitutive nonverbal sign at all. Moreover, all
the functions not synchronizing the nonverbal signs with the lin
guistic signs, will be reduced almost to 'zero degree'. Under these
conditions, the function of amplification proves to be the most im
portant.

Consequently, such nonverbal signs will be selected as are able to

illustrate or to repeat the meaning of the linguistic signs. Paralin-
 156

guistic signs functioning as acoustic icons or pictographs may be used

as well as all kinds of mimical, gestic or proxemic signs indicating,
for example, a special look, size, shape, direction, extent, position in
the space, etc. of the person or object the linguistic signs refer to.
A special category of nonverbal signs functioning as intensifiers is
51
represented by the so called 'affect displays' . These signs will
reveal the affective state of the dramatis persona speaking and as
regards the t h i r d type of dramatic dialogue, will repeat the meaning
of an affective statement, made by words. If the dramatis persona is
speaking about its anger, it may realize nonverbal signs indicating a
furious state of mind, as, for instance, contracted eyebrows, clench
ed feasts, a hasty walk etc. The affect displays will thus repeat the
emotions spoken about by the dramatis personae.

A modification of the meaning of the linguistic signs seems possible

only to a low degree: if, for example, the linguistic signs are rather
ambiguous, the nonverbal signs may reduce the number of their
possible meanings, and thus enable the spectator to decide for a more
positive interpretation. In this case they modify the meaning of the
linguistic signs by f i x i n g i t .

Wherease the nonverbal signs can fulfil the function of modification in

the way just described, a realization of the function of neutralization
seems hardly probable: the nonverbal signs may weaken the meaning
of the linguistic signs but not reduce it to zero degree. For, if the
linguistic signs function as the essential meaning-creating system,
the sense of the dialogue cannot be adequately understood when the
nonverbal signs neutralize some of the meanings constituted by the
linguistic signs.

Similarly, the function of contradiction is to be excluded. If the l i n

guistic signs constitute the leading sign system, every meaning of the
nonverbal signs contradicting that of the linguistic signs will be i n
valid. There seems to be only one exception to this general rule: the
nonverbal expression of irony t u r n i n g the meaning of the words into
its opposite. But in this case, one has to consider that already the
 157

linguistic signs are combined in a way which assures the reader that
they are to be taken ironically. Accordingly, the nonverbal signs are
supposed to bring to light the irony expressed by the linguistic signs
in a manner more complicated and, perhaps, not at once to be grasp
ed. Pointing to the contradiction between the literal meaning of the
words and their actual meaning, the nonverbal signs delineate the
special coherence of the spoken text and facilitate the process of
understanding.

As for their parasemantic functions, the nonverbal signs, in most

cases, promote a particular interpretation of the linguistic signs by
i l l u s t r a t i n g , repeating or determining their meaning.

With respect to the parapragmatic functions of the nonverbal signs,

we shall focus on their principal capacity to structure and to ac
centuate the text of the dialogue as a whole. Indicating the general
emotive state of the interlocutors as well as their attitude towards
each other, they trace the personal situation in which the dialogue
takes place and by thus referring the words spoken to a special
pattern of interaction, underlying the situation of communication, set
the ground for the understanding of the dialogue. For, if the specta
tor may acknowledge at once whether the persons speaking on stage
are on friendly terms or whether they are people who have never met
before, a couple of friends or enemies, a superior and his inferior or
comrades, or whether they are in a good humour or in a desperate
state of mind, unhappy or j o y f u l , furious or peaceable etc. - he cer
tainly will be able to understand the ongoing or following dialogue
more adequately than without these informations which would, per
haps, be given much later by the linguistic signs. Thus, the non
verbal signs may anticipate the transmission of a meaning necessary
for the understanding of the dialogue as a whole.

On the other hand, the nonverbal signs can shape out the t u r n - t a k i n g
system more distinctly than, at least in some cases, the linguistic
signs may do. In particular, paralinguistic signs as intonation, mimic
al signs as casting down of the eyes, gestic signs as a slight bow of
 158

t h e h e a d , a t e r m i n a t i n g g e s t u r e of t h e h a n d s o r a complete c h a n g e of
the posture, p r o x e m i c s i g n s as a step f o r w a r d and b a c k w a r d s respec
t i v e l y are able t o s i g n a l i z e t o t h e s p e c t a t o r t h a t t h e p e r s o n speaking
is going to finish and the next turn is a b o u t to t a k e place. Thus
structuring the progress of the dialogue, the nonverbal signs will
make clear i t s special o r g a n i z a t i o n as a w h o l e , and enable t h e spec
tator to constitute its meaning.

T h e t h i r d t y p e of d r a m a t i c d i a l o g u e creates meaning b y e s t a b l i s h i n g a
special i n t e r a c t i o n between t h e l i n g u i s t i c and t h e n o n v e r b a l signs. It
selects t h e n o n v e r b a l s i g n s in d e p e n d e n c e of t h e i r a b i l i t y t o e l u c i d a t e
the meaning of t h e l i n g u i s t i c signs. Accordingly, their parasyntactic
and parapragmatic functions dominate their parasemantic functions
and, among t h e parasemantic f u n c t i o n s , t h o s e p r e v a i l t h a t a r e able t o
illustrate, repeat or determine the meaning of t h e linguistic signs.
The nonverbal s i g n s are u s e d , p r i m a r i l y , in o r d e r t o d i r e c t t h e p r o
cess of the reception and interpretation of the linguistic signs and
thus support the spectator in his e f f o r t s t o c o n s t i t u t e t h e i r adequate
. 52
meaning

2. The f o u r t h t y p e of d r a m a t i c d i a l o g u e , t h e o r a l / o r a l one is charac

terized by a predominance of the nonverbal signs: acting dominates
language. Accordingly, the interaction between t h e l i n g u i s t i c and t h e
nonverbal signs will be realized in a quite different way t h a n with
respect to the t h i r d t y p e : t h e t o t a l of t h e n o n v e r b a l s i g n s w i l l a d o p t
t h e f u n c t i o n of t h e l e a d i n g s i g n - s y s t e m .

Relating this type of dramatic dialogue to t h e second one, we can

state t h a t i t has t o t r a n s f o r m t h e l i n g u i s t i c s i g n s of t h e 'Nebentext'
i n t o a p p r o p r i a t e n o n v e r b a l s i g n s , and t o g i v e a p o s i t i v e interpretation
of all k i n d s of 'absences' b y s u b s t i t u t i n g
them b y p e r c e p t i b l e a c o u s -
53
tic or visual signs being b r o u g h t f o r t h by the actors

From this results an entirely different relation between the three

semiotic f u n c t i o n s t h e n o n v e r b a l s i g n s may f u l f i l w i t h r e f e r e n c e t o t h e
linguistic signs: t h e most i m p o r t a n t w i l l p r o v e to be t h e parasemantic
functions, followed by the p a r a p r a g m a t i c ones whereas t h e parasyn-
 159

tactic functions will become rather subordinate. For, if the nonverbal

signs transmit the dominant meaning, the linguistic signs will lose a
great deal of their relevance: to grasp the meaning of the dialogue, it
is more important to understand the meaning of the nonverbal signs
than that of the linguistic signs. Consequently, the parasyntactic
function of segmentation can be but a secondary function.

Contrariwise, the parasemantic functions are developed to a great

extent. The function of substitution, in particular, left completely
aside in the t h i r d type of dialogue, here excels all the others. In the
literary t e x t , there is an important difference between the nonverbal
signs the 'Nebentext' describes and the nonverbal signs possibly sub
stituting the dashes, points or other markers indicating the incom
pleteness of the words the dramatis personae are supposed to speak.
Here this difference becomes irrelevant. For the nonverbal signs the
spectator may perceive reveal nothing about their origin from the
'Haupttext' or the 'Nebentext' - so this differentiation proves o be
without any function here.

The nonverbal signs substituting linguistic signs will be emblems as

well as other signs to be understood either by intuition as, for i n
stance, paralinguistic signs (sighing, sobbing, giggling, laughing
e t c . ) , or mimical signs expressing emotions (anger, fear, surprise,
j o y , disgust, sadness, tension etc.) - or with reference to another
code as, for example, gestic signs indicating emotions, the intensity
of emotions as well as such expressing an intention, a doubt, a re
flection, a decision e t c . , or proxemic signs with a corresponding
function as well as such pointing to the special relations between the
interlocutors and their possible change during the dialogue. As for
the gestic and proxemic signs, they are to be understood on the
basis of a special code valid either for the surrounding culture in
54
general or for the theatre only . All kinds of nonverbal signs may
be used that are able to constitute a meaning without any reference
to linguistic signs.
 160

Accordingly, the quota of nonverbal signs realized in the course of a

dialogue may increase enormously so t h a t , partially, the nonverbal
signs will function as the only relevant meaning-creating system: the
meanings, being constituted in other types of dramatic dialogue mainly
by linguistic signs - as, for instance, meanings referring to emotions,
attitudes, intentions etc. of the dramatis personae - can, in some
parts of the dialogue, be constituted exclusively by nonverbal signs.

In all the other parts of the dialogue combining linguistic and non
verbal signs, the parasemantic functions of amplification, modification,
neutralization, and contradiction will prevail. Since the linguistic
signs are frequently elliptical and not very explicit, the nonverbal
signs have to define their meaning by giving additional informations.
Thus, the nonverbal signs amplify the meaning of the linguistic signs
by completing them. In this case, the nonverbal signs will frequently
be more informative than the linguistic signs, but their meaning can
only be understood adequately, if they are linked to the linguistic
signs they are meant to amplify.

Since the linguistic signs used in the fourth type of dramatic dialogue
are often incapable of constituting a precise, valid meaning, the non
verbal signs can modify them: whereas the words indicate a rudeness,
for instance, the nonverbal signs may lessen this impression or sig
nalize that it is rather an awkwardness. Similarly, they may, more
over, neutralize the meaning of the linguistic signs.

A parasemantic function of special interest seems to be the function of

contradiction. For it allows, above all, to point to the ambiguity of
the behaviour, the dramatis personae may present in the duration of
several sequences of a discourse. Due to this function, the dramatic
dialogue is able to demonstrate not only a contradiction between, for
instance, the true feelings, intentions etc. of a dramatis persona and
those it pretends to have, b u t , in addition, a contradiction between
impulses the dramatis persona is aware of and those remaining u n
conscious to i t .
 161

Consequently, the opposition between the meanings of the linguistic

and the nonverbal signs may function as a meaning-creating system of
supreme relevance, being characteristic of this type of dramatic dia
logue. The function of contradiction thus proves to be essential,
especially with regard to the dramatic dialogue of our century

Als already stated with respect to the t h i r d type of dialogue and in

general, the parapragmatic functions of the nonverbal signs are not
related to single linguistic signs or sequences of linguistis signs, but
to the dialogue as a whole: they have to line out the situation in
which the dialogue takes place by signalizing the general emotive
state of the interlocutors and their attitude towards each other. Re
lating this function to the fourth type of dramatic dialogue, we have
to conclude t h a t , since the linguistic signs may be deficient in this
respect, the nonverbal signs will not only have to set the ground for
the following dialogue but to define the special relations between the
interlocutors at the very beginning of the dialogue as well as in its
progress. In case where the words the dramatis personae speak do
not say anything about these relations, the nonverbal signs will be
the only signs which can indicate and define them. Accordingly, the
parapragmatic functions of expression and reaction may adopt a
quasi-leading function: they inform the spectator about the underly
ing interactive conditions that have to be taken into account, if the
linguistic and nonverbal signs realized in the course of the dialogue
are to be adequately understood

Compared to the relevance of the parapragmatic functions of expres

sion and reaction ( i . e . of defining the relations between the inter
locutors) the function of shaping out the t u r n - t a k i n g system is rather
secondary, but still important enough: mostly, the t u r n - t a k i n g will be
prepared by nonverbal signs signalizing the efforts of the hearer to
adopt the speaker-role and the intention of the speaker to pass it to
his partner, or to maintain i t , respectively.

Summarizing, we can state that the predominance of the nonverbal

signs, being typical of the last category of dramatic dialogue, i n -
 162

volves a special selection to be made among the nonverbal signs.

Those will be chosen that are able to f u l f i l , f i r s t of all, the para-
semantic functions of substitution, amplification, modification, and
contradiction as well as the parapragmatic functions of defining the
relations between the interlocutors and shaping out the t u r n - t a k i n g
system. For these very functions enable the nonverbal signs to con
stitute a meaning, either independent of or in addition to the meaning
of the linguistic signs, and thus to adopt the leading part in the
process of meaning-creating with respect to the whole dialogue.

Regarding the t h i r d and the fourth type of dramatic dialogue we can

conclude that the interaction between the linguistic and nonverbal
signs may function as a meaning-creating system only on the condition
that a special selection will be made among the nonverbal signs in
accordance with the respective type of dramatic dialogue. For every
type requires the predominance of other semiotic functions to be
realized by the nonverbal signs in reference to the linguistic signs -
functions, which the nonverbal signs are usually able to f u l f i l , each
to a different degree.

3. Conclusion

While not in the least claiming to be exhaustive, this paper has just
outlined the four fundamental modes in which the dramatic dialogue
may create meaning. The detailed analysis of these modes in partic
ular remains, for the time being, but a postulate. Once the methods
of discourse analysis are more refined, it will be able to apply them
to the analysis of dramatic dialogue . In this case, one has to take
into consideration that a dramatic dialogue is not described and
understood sufficiently if taken for a special kind of dicourse only,
but that it has to be regarded, f i r s t of a l l , as an aesthetic phaenom-
enon . That means: even if in a dramatic dialogue methods of
meaning-creating will be f o u n d , which are known as characteristic for
some type of discourse, the dramatic dialogue is not to be considered
 163

a mere reproduction of an everyday conversation, but it uses the re

production in order to create a special aesthetic meaning. According
ly, the analysis of the dramatic discourse by means of discourse
analysis can be but a prerequisite for the process of constituting its
actual meaning - a prerequisite, at any rate, of great importance and
necessity.

Notes

1 See Aristotle's A r t of Poetry (1963: 11-12).

2 Hegel ( o . J . , B d . l l : 525).
3 Wellek and Warren (1956: 219).
4 With respect to the underlying concept of meaning see Fischer-
Lichte (1979).
5 Aristotle (1963: 20).
6 All these authors have not only been theorists of the theatre and
dramatists, but have remarkably changed the art of acting of their
time. Being thus interested in the art of acting, they knew quite
well that a drama is but completed by its staging, although it can
be only read as well.
7 Veltrusky (1976: 94-117; 95).
8 Opposing Pfister, I would declare, that the literary drama is a
monomedial text only, but not a multimedial t e x t . It may, of
course, point to its transformation into a multimedial t e x t , but it
remains in itself a monomedial t e x t . Therefore I would prefer to
distinguish between the literary dramatic dialogue and the theatric
al dramatic dialogue, being linked to each other, but not being the
same. Regarding this problem cp. Manfred Pfister (1977), especial
ly 1.3. 'Das Drama als plurimediale Darstellungsform' (pp.24-30).,
9 As the concept of the theatrical sign is concerned c p . , above all,
Bogatyrev (1976: 33-50); Honzl (1976: 74-93). Regarding the
enumeration and categorization of the theatrical signs cp. Kowzan
(1968: 55-59), reprinted in an extended form in Kowzan (1970:
13-183).
10 Spoken language means here: what is spoken, not being noted be
fore; not being thought before to the purpose of performance; not
using verse, rhyme, melody and the like; and being supposed as
normal within the context of the type of spoken language used in
each case. See Steger (1967). Concerning the problem of spoken
language and of discourse analysis cp. Dascal and Katriel (1979);
 164

Heindrichs and Rump ( e d s . , 1979); Heckendorn ( 1 9 7 5 ) ; House

( 1 9 7 9 ) ; Nowakowska ( 1 9 7 9 ) ; Schwitalla ( 1 9 7 9 ) ; Wegner ( e d . 1977).
11 T h e concept of w r i t t e n language does not intend a uniform t y p e of
language but includes d i f f e r e n t types of language in accordance
with the theory of functional s t y l e . T h a t means: w r i t t e n language
is used to certain purposes and thus its characteristic features will
d i f f e r in dependence of each purpose, in p a r t i c u l a r .
12 Hugo von Hofmannsthal, Der Tod des T i z i a n , ( i n ) H . v . H o f m a n n s -
t h a l , Die Gedichte und kleinen Pramen, Leipzig 1919, p p . 4 1 - 5 6 ,
pp. 49/50.
13 To this purpose see, for instance, Szondi ( 1 9 7 5 ) .
14 All these dramatis personae use a special form of language, called
the 'magical language'. T h a t means: a language constituting a
reality of its own. Concerning the magical language of Hofmanns
thal c p . Baschata ( 1 9 4 8 ) ; Pestalozzi ( 1 9 5 8 ) ; Wittmann ( 1 9 6 6 ) .
15 This peculiarity is shown by all lyric dramas: the words of the
dialogue are able to constitute a reality of its own. C p . to this
problem with reference to the Polish romantic drama Fischer-Lichte
(1972).
16 T h a t means: not only the whole dialogue has to be taken as an
aesthetic sign but also e v e r y linguistic sign used in i t .
17 Consequently, this peculiarity functions as a prerequisite of the
process of meaning-constitution: this process has to be performed
in accordance with the process by which the meaning of a poem is
constituted.
18 Regarding the concepts of 'Haupttext' und 'Nebentext' c p . R. In-
garden ( 1 9 6 5 ) .
19 Concerning the analysis of dialogue of a German classic drama c p .
E. Fischer-Lichte (1975) and ( 1 9 7 7 ) .
20 T h a t means: the spoken language of a l i t e r a r y dramatic dialogue is
always a particular f o r m , composed of d i f f e r e n t selected c h a r
acteristic f e a t u r e s . Concerning this problem c p . Beiersdorf and
Schttker ( 1 9 7 8 ) ; Grosse ( 1 9 7 2 ) ; Hess-Lttich (1981); Winter
(1972).
21 C p . B u r g e r and Von Matt ( 1 9 7 4 ) .
22 This is especially f r e q u e n t l y the case in naturalistic drama. Some
times, the 'Nebentext' will prevail the 'Haupttext' a n d , consequent
ly may become independent of the dramatic situation. C p . Hess-
Lttich ( 1 9 7 9 ) .
23 Especially, the language of the lower classes is appropriate to the
purpose of simulating spoken language: in all these cases, t h e r e
will be no d o u b t , t h a t the language used here belongs to the
category of spoken language.
 165

24 G e r h a r d Hauptmann, Die R a t t e n , Frankfurt/Main 1959, II. Akt,

p . 43.
25 Since t h e d i a l e c t is e x c l u d e d f r o m w r i t t e n l a n g u a g e , i t s use in
drama signalizes t h a t t h e language of t h e d r a m a t i s personae i s ,
i n d e e d , a f o r m of s p o k e n l a n g u a g e . A c c o r d i n g l y , t h e use of d i a l e c t
in d r a m a t i c d i a l o g u e f r e q u e n t l y has t h e f u n c t i o n of p o i n t i n g t o t h e
p e c u l i a r i t y t h a t h e r e s p o k e n language is s i m u l a t e d .
26 With r e s p e c t t o t h e p r o b l e m of r e d u c t i o n c p . Brinkmann (1967),
a n d ( 1 9 7 4 ) ; Grosse ( 1 9 6 8 ) ; S c h i m a n s k i ( 1 9 7 5 ) .
27 C p . H e s s - L t t i c h (1979).
28 In r e f e r e n c e t o t h e p r o b l e m of g r a p h e m i c s i g n s c p . A l t h a u s (1973);
Plett (1975); Spillner (1974).
29 Of c o u r s e , e v e r y l i t e r a r y w o r k m u s t be completed in t h e mind of
t h e r e a d e r . B u t in o u r case, we have t o deal w i t h a special k i n d
of i n c o m p l e t e n e s s : t h e use of dashes e t c . r e q u i r e s t h e r e a d e r e x
p l i c i t l y n o t o n l y t o imagine w h a t t h e l i n g u i s t i c s i g n s d e s c r i b e , b u t
t o i m a g i n e , w h a t is on p u r p o s e o m i t t e d .
30 C p . Ren D e s c a r t e s , T r a i t e des passions de l'ame ( 1 6 4 9 ) , i n :
Oeuvres c o m p l t e s , e d . b y C h . A d a m , P. T a n n e r y , 1 2 . v o l . , 1897-
1913.
31 T h i s is q u i t e i m p o r t a n t w i t h r e s p e c t to an adequate understanding
of, for instance, naturalistic drama.
32 In a c c o r d a n c e , a n a l y s i n g a t h e a t r i c a l d r a m a t i c d i a l o g u e i t is w o r t h
w h i l e t o r e s o r t t o t h e r e s u l t s of t h e d i s c o u r s e a n a l y s i s . C p . f o r
instance Cicourel (1975); Heidrich ( e d . 1977); Schegloff (1972);
Wegner ( e d . 1977).
33 V e l t r u s k y (1976: 144f.).
34 B o t h t y p e s h a v e been c h a r a c t e r i s t i c f o r special p e r i o d s of t h e h i s
t o r y of t h e t h e a t r e : w h e r e a s , f o r i n s t a n c e , Goethe's t h e a t r e in
Weimar realized t h e t y p e : language d o m i n a t i n g a c t i n g , since i n
Goethe's o p i n i o n t h e l i t e r a r y t e x t was t h e most i m p o r t a n t element
of a p e r f o r m a n c e , in S t a n i s l a v s k y ' s t h e a t r e t h e o t h e r t y p e : a c t i n g
d o m i n a t i n g language was e s s e n t i a l , since S t a n i s l a v s k y was c o n v i n c
ed t h a t t h e most i m p o r t a n t t a s k of t h e t h e a t r e is t h e e x p r e s s i o n of
all t h o s e e m o t i o n s , people may h a v e , in a w a y , in w h i c h t h e y
u s u a l l y e x p r e s s them - t h a t means: b y n o n v e r b a l s i g n s . T o d a y
b o t h t y p e s of d r a m a t i c d i a l o g u e may o c c u r .
35 T o t h e p u r p o s e , we have to c o n s i d e r t h e g e n e r a l p o s s i b i l i t i e s of
t h e n o n v e r b a l s i g n s t o c o n s t i t u t e meaning a s , among o t h e r s , B i r d -
w h i s t e l l , E k m a n , H a l l , S c h e f l e n , T r a g e r have i n v e s t i g a t e d and e x
p l a i n e d t h e m . C p . B i r d w h i s t e l l (1952) a n d ( 1 9 7 3 ) ; Ekman and
Friesen ( 1 9 6 9 ) ; Friesen a n d E l l s w o r t h ( 1 9 7 2 ) ; Hall ( 1 9 6 6 ) ; S c h e f l e n
(1972) and ( 1 9 7 4 ) ; T r a g e r ( 1 9 6 4 ) .
36 See S c h e r e r (1977).
 166

37 Regarding the function of segmentation fulfilled by paraiinguistic

signs c p . Danes ( 1 9 6 0 ) ; Von Essen ( 1 9 6 4 ) ; Heike ( 1 9 6 9 ) ; Martinet
( 1 9 5 4 ) ; Pike ( 1 9 4 7 ) , and Weinrich ( 1 9 6 1 ) .
38 To the concept of 'illustrator' c p . Ekman and Friesen ( 1 9 6 9 ) .
39 C p . Scheflen ( 1 9 7 2 ) .
40 Regarding these functions cp. Ekman, Friesen and Ellsworth
(1972).
41 To the concept of emblem c p . Efron (1972); Ekman and Friesen
( 1 9 6 9 ) ; Ekman ( 1 9 7 7 ) .
42 These mimical signs, expressing an emotion, a r e , following Ekman,
pancultural signs. T h a t means: insofar as t h e y occur in all human
cultures t h e y can immediately be understood by everybody without
having learned a special code. C p . Ekman, Friesen and Ellsworth
( 1 9 7 2 ) ; Ekman ( 1 9 7 2 ) .
43 Such signs are investigated among others by Birdwhistell and Ek
man. C p . Birdwhistell ( 1 9 7 3 ) ; Ekman and Friesen ( 1 9 6 9 ) .
44 With respect to a pancultural mimical sign of sadness c p . Ekman,
Friesen and Ellsworth ( 1 9 7 2 ) .
45 To the question of predominance c p . Ekman, Friesen and Ellsworth
(1972).
46 C p . Scherer ( 1 9 7 7 ) .
47 Regarding this special function of nonverbal signs c p . Scheflen
(1972).
48 It seems necessary to point to the fundamental difference between
the use of these signs in e v e r y d a y conversation and t h e i r use as
theatrical signs. Whereas in e v e r y d a y conversation some of them
are realized without awareness and intention of the speaker and
provoke a reaction of the h e a r e r , on stage all signs used are
realized as theatrical signs. T h a t means: as signs brought f o r t h
intentionally to provoke a reaction of the spectator. T h u s all non
verbal signs used here are produced as 'sign of signs' and are to
be i n t e r p r e t e d in an adequate w a y . For t h e y are all selected to a
special purpose. To this problem see Bogatyrev ( 1 9 7 6 ) .
49 T h e interaction between linguistic and nonverbal signs in theatrical
dramatic dialogue is hardly investigated until now. An approach is
attempted in Fischer-Lichte ( 1 9 8 3 ) , v o l . I I I .
50 Of course, t h e r e is no need for a stage-manager t o d a y , to maintain
the predominance of the linguistic signs of the l i t e r a r y t e x t when
staging i t . On the c o n t r a r y , he may shorten the t e x t , even alter
i t , in order to create his special meaning anew by nonverbal
signs. In this case, we would have to deal with a dramatic dialogue
of the f o u r t h t y p e . T h a t means: the l i t e r a r y t e x t does not p r e
scribe a special t y p e of theatrical dramatic dialogue, when staged,
but only suggests i t .
 167

51 With respect to the signs, functioning as affect displays, see Elk-

man and Friesen ( 1 9 6 9 ) ; Ekman, Friesen and Ellsworth ( 1 9 7 2 ) .
52 T h i s t y p e of dramatic dialogue seems to have been the f a v o u r i t e in
Goethe's t h e a t r e in Weimar. Especially Goethes's 'Regeln fr
Schauspieler' (1803) prove e x p l i c i t l y , t h a t the main ability of the
actor was, following Goethe, the ability to speak the verses in a
way t h a t rendered them understandable to the spectator. C p .
Goethe's 'Regeln f r Schauspieler', i n : J.W. Goethe, Samtliche
Werke in 18 B a n d e n , B d . 1 4 , Schriften z u r L i t e r a t u r , Zrich 1972,
pp.72-90.
53 In respect of the problem of the transformation of l i t e r a r y signs
into theatrical signs ( t h a t means: of a l i t e r a r y dramatic t e x t into a
theatrical dramatic t e x t ) see Brach ( 1 9 6 5 ) ; Fischer-Lichte ( 1 9 8 3 ) ,
vol.111; Kowzan ( 1 9 6 9 ) ; Osiski ( 1 9 6 7 ) .
54 In all forms of realistic t h e a t r e , the nonverbal signs used by the
actors, are realized, based on a code, t h e i r use being regulated in
the surrounding society. T h e spectator is able to understand t h e i r
meaning, because he knows them a l r e a d y . Of course, modifications
will occur, but t h e y are to be understood only on the basis of the
primary cultural code. On the c o n t r a r y , forms of t h e a t r e based on
a strict convention, have a code of their own that is to be known
if the nonverbal signs are to be adequately i n t e r p r e t e d . With r e
spect to the concept of t h e theatrical code, c p . Fischer-Lichte
(1981b).
55 This possibility was f i r s t elaborated by Stanislavsky. He trained
the actors to use the nonverbal signs in a w a y , the contradiction
between the linguistic and the nonverbal signs could function as a
special signifying mode.
56 This function of the nonverbal signs has been investigated and
analyzed in detail f i r s t of all by Scheflen. See his (1972) and
( 1 9 7 4 ) . Of course, the actor may use these signs in a way quite
d i f f e r e n t from the way t h e y are commonly used in e v e r y d a y life.
But studies like those of Scheflen focus the attention on the pecu
l i a r i t y , t h a t on stage the nonverbal signs have to fulfil at least
partially the same functions as in e v e r y d a y life, although in rela
tion to the spectator, enabling him to constitute the meaning of the
dialogue. T h a t means: the general purpose of nonverbal signs as
theatrical signs is d i f f e r e n t though t h e y may quite often fulfil cor
responding functions.
57 T h i s has been done already with respect to the l i t e r a r y dramatic
dialogue by A . Betten ( 1 9 7 7 ) ; B u r g e r and Von Matt ( 1 9 7 4 ) ; Elam,
'Dramatic Discourse', in: Elam (1980: 135-207); Hess-Lttich
( 1 9 7 7 ) , and ( 1 9 7 9 ) .
58 To the special problems, concerning the constitution of an aesthetic
meaning c p . Fischer-Lichte ( 1 9 7 9 ) , ( 1 9 8 0 ) , and ( 1 9 8 1 a ) .
 168

References

Althaus, H.P. 1973

'Graphetik', 'Graphemik', ( i n ) A l t h a u s , Henne and Wiegand
(eds.) Lexikon der Germanistischen Linguistik (Tbingen),
pp.105-110, pp.118-132.
Aristotle 1963
A r t of P o e t r y . ( A Greek View of Poetry and Drama. With an I n
troduction and Explanations by W. Hamilton F y r e ) , ( O x f o r d ) .
Beiersdorf, G. and D. Schttker 1978
'Alltagsgesprach, literarischer Dialog, sthetische Kommunika-
t i o n ' , Diskussion Deutsch 9 , p p . 5 0 1 - 5 1 9 .
Bauer, G. 1969
Z u r Poetik des Dialogs ( D a r m s t a d t ) .
Betten, A. 1977
'Moderne deutsche Dramen- und Filmdialoge und ihr Verhaltnis
zum spontanen Gesprach', ( i n ) G. Drachmann ( e d . ) , Akten der
2 . Salzburger Frhjahrstagung f r Linguistik (Tbingen), pp.
357-371.
Birdwhistell, T . 1952
Introduction to Kinesics ( L o u i s v i l l e ) .
Birdwhistell, T . 1973
Kinesics and Context ( H a r m o n d s w o r t h ) .
B o g a t y r e v , P. 1976
'Semiotics in the Folk T h e a t e r ' , ( i n ) L. Matejka and J . R . T i t u n i c
( e d s . ) , Semiotic of A r t . Prague School Contributions ( C a m b r i d g e /
Mass.), pp.33-50.
B r a c h , J . 1965
'O znakach literackich i znakach t e a t r a l n y c h ' , Studia Estetyczne,
2, pp.243-259.
B r a t u , C. 1977
'Some remarks on the dialogue in popular speech', Revue Rou-
maine de Linguistique 2 2 , p p . 3 3 3 - 3 3 7 .
B r i n k m a n n , H. 1967
'Die Syntax der Rede', Sprache der Gegenwart 1 , pp.78ff.
B r i n k m a n n , H. 1974
'Reduktion in gesprochener und geschriebener S p r a c h e ' , ( i n )
H. Moser ( e d . ) , Gesprochene Sprache. Jahrbuch 1972 ( D s s e l -
d o r f ) , pp.144-162.
B u r g e r , H. and P. von Matt 1974
'Dramatischer Dialog und restringiertes S p r e c h e n . F . X . Kroetz,
in linguistischer und literaturwissenschaftlicher S i c h t ' , ZGL 2 ,
pp.269-298.
 169

Cicourel, A . V . 1975
'Discourse and T e x t : Cognition and Linguistic Processes in
Studies of Social S t r u c t u r e ' , Versus 12, p p . 3 3 - 8 4 .
Danes, F. 1960
'Sentence intonation from a functional point of v i e w ' , Word 16,
pp.34-54.
Dascal, M. and T . Katriel 1979
'Digressions: A Study in Conversational Coherence', PTL, pp.
203-232.
E f r o n , D. 1972
G e s t u r e , Race and C u l t u r e ( T h e H a g u e / P a r i s ) .
Ekman, P. 1972
Universals and Cultural Difference in Facial Expressions of Emotion
( U n i v . of Nebraska P r e s s ) .
Ekman, P. 1977
'Bewegungen mit codierter Bedeutung: Gestische Embleme', ( i n )
R. Posner und H . P . Reinecke ( e d s . ) , Zeichenprozesse (Wiesba
d e n ) , pp.180-198.
Ekman, P. and W . V . Friesen 1969
' T h e Repertoire of Non-verbal Behaviour: Categories, Origins,
Usage and C o d i n g ' , Semiotica 1 , p p . 4 9 - 9 8 .
Ekman, P . , W . V . Friesen, and P. Ellsworth 1972
Emotion in the Human Face (Pergamon P r e s s ) .
Elam, K. 1980
T h e Semiotics of T h e a t r e and Drama ( L o n d o n ) .
Essen, O. von 1964
Grundzge der deutschen Satzintonation (Ratingen und Dssel-
dorf).
F i s c h e r - L i c h t e , E. 1972
'Das Verhaltnis von Wort und T a t als gattungsbegrndender Fak-
tor im dramatischen Werk Juliusz Sowacki's' ( D i s s . B e r l i n ) .
F i s c h e r - L i c h t e , E. 1975
'Goethes 'Iphigenie' - Reflexion auf die Grundwidersprche der
brgerlichen GeselIschaft', Diskussion Deutsch 2 1 , p p . 1 - 2 5 .
F i s c h e r - L i c h t e , E. 1977
Probleme der Rezeption klassischer Werke - am Beispiel von Goe-
thes iphigenie, ( i n ) O. Conrady ( e d . ) , Deutsche L i t e r a t u r zur
Zeit der Klassik ( S t u t t g a r t ) , p p . 114-140.
F i s c h e r - L i c h t e , E. 1979
Bedeutung - Probleme einer semiotischen Hermeneutik und Asthe-
tik (Mnchen).
F i s c h e r - L i c h t e , E. 1980
'Zum Problem der Bedeutung asthetischer Zeichen', Kodi kas/Code
2 , 3, p p . 2 6 9 - 2 8 3 .
 170

Fischer-Lichte, E. 1981a
'Zur Konstitution sthetischer Zeichen', ( i n ) H. Sturm and A.
Eschbach ( e d s . ) , Asthetik und Semiotik ( T b i n g e n ) .
Fischer-Lichte, E. 1981b
'The Theatrical Code', ( i n ) E.W.B. Hess-Lttich ( e d . ) , Multi
medial Communication I I . Semiotics of Drama and Theatre ( T
bingen), pp.53-75.
Fischer-Lichte, E. 1983
Semiotik des Theaters, 3 vols. (Tbingen)
I. Das System theatralischer Zeichen,
II. Vom 'knstlichen' zum 'natrlichen Zeichen-Theater des
Barock und der A u f k l a r u n g ,
I I I . Die Auffhrung als Text.
Grosse, S. 1968
'Mitteilungen ohne V e r b ' , (in) Festgabe f r Friedrich Maurer
(Dsseldorf), pp.50ff.
Grosse, S. 1972
'Literarischer Dialog und gesprochene Sprache', ( i n ) Festschrift
f r Hans Eggers ( T b i n g e n ) , pp.649-668.
Hall, E.T. 1966
The Hidden Dimension (New Y o r k ) .
Hauptmann, G. 1962-74
Samtliche Werke. ( e d . by H.E. Hass and M. IVlachatzke) (Frank
furt).
Heckendorn, T . 1975
'Spontanes Gesprach und schriftliche Fixierung. Ein Vergleich',
Muttersprache 85, pp.159-168.
Hegel, G.W.F. o . J .
Asthetik. (Mit einer Einfhrung von G. Lukacs) ( F r a n k f u r t / M . ) .
Heidrich, C . H . ( e d . ) 1977
Konstituenten dialogischer Kommunikation (Hamburg).
Heike, G. 1969
Suprasegmentale Analyse ( M a r b u r g ) .
Heindrichs, W., and G.C. Rump (eds.) 1979
Dialoge, Beitrage zur Interaktions- und Diskursanalyse (Hildes-
heim).
Hess-Lttich, E.W.B. 1977
'Empirisierung literarischer Textanalyse', ( i n ) W. Klein (ed.),
Methoden der Textanalyse (Heidelberg), pp.61-72.
Hess-Lttich, E.W.B. 1979
'Drama, Silence and Semiotics', Kodikas/Code 1 , 2, pp.105-120.
Hess-Lttich, E.W.B. 1981
Soziale Interaktion und literarischer Dialog ( B e r l i n ) .
 171

Hofmannsthal, H. v . 1950-59
Gesammelte Werke (Einzelausgaben, ed. by Herbert Steiner, 15
Bde) ( F r a n k f u r t / M . ) .
Honzl, J . 1976
'Dynamics of the Sign in the Theater', ( i n ) L. Matejka and J.R.
Titunic (eds.), Semiotics of A r t . Prague School Contributions
(Cambridge/Mass.), pp.74-93.
House, H. 1979
'Interaktionsnormen in deutschen und englischen Alltagsgespra-
chen', Lingustische Berichte 59, pp.76-90.
Ingarden, R. 1965
'Von den Funktionen der Sprache im Theaterschauspiel'. i n : R.
Ingarden, Das literarische Kunstwerk ( T b i n g e n ) , pp.403-425.
Jager, K . - H . 1976
Untersuchungen zur Klassifikation gesprochener deutscher Stan-
dardsprache. Redekonstellationstypen und argumentative Dialog-
sorten (Mnchen).
Kowzan, T . 1968
'Le signe au thtre. Introduction a la semiologie de l'art du
spectacle', Diogne 6 1 , pp.35-59.
Kowzan, T . 1969
'Le texte et le spectacle. Rapports entre la mise en scne et la
parole', Cahiers de l'association internationale des tudes f r a n -
caises 8 1 , pp.63-72.
Kowzan, T . 1970
Litterature et spectacle dans leur rapports esthtiques, thma-
tiques et smiologiques (Warszawa).
Larthomas, P. 1972
Le langage dramatique (Paris).
Martinet, G.L. 1954
'Accents et tons', Miscellanea Phonetica 2, p p . 13-24.
Nowakowska, M. 1979
'Towards a Formal Theory of Dialogues', ( i n ) W. Burghardt and
K. Hlker ( e d s . ) , Textprocessing. Textverarbeitung. Papers in
Text analysis and text description ( B e r l i n , New Y o r k ) , pp.191-
212.
Osiski, Z. 1967
'Przekad tekstu literackiego na jezyk t e a t r u . Zarys problema-
t y k i ' , ( i n ) J . Trzynadlowski, Dramat i teatr (Wrocaw), pp.119-
156.
Pfister, M. 1977
Pas Drama (Mnchen).
Pike, K.L. 1947
Phonemics (Ann A r b o r ) .
 172

Pike, K.L. 1962

Phonetics (Ann A r b o r ) .
Plett, H.F. 1975
Textwissenschaft und Textanalyse, Semiotik, Linguistik, Rhetorik
(Heidelberg).
Pratt, M.L. 1972
Toward a Speech Act Theory of Literary Discourse (Bloomington)
Scheflen, A . E . 1972
Body language and Social Order (Englewood C l i f f s ) .
Scheflen, A . E . 1974
What Behavior Means (New Y o r k ) .
Schegloff, E. 1972
'Notes on a Conversational Practice: Formulating Place', ( i n )
Dusnow ( e d . ) , Studies in Interaction (New Y o r k ) , pp.75-119.
Scherer, K.R. 1979
Nonverbale Kommunikation (Hamburg).
Scherer, K.R. 1977
'Die Funktionen des nonverbalen Verhaltens im Gesprach', ( i n )
D. Wegner ( e d . ) , Gesprchsanalysen (Hamburg), pp.275-297.
Schimanski, A. 1975
'Zu den Fragen der Verkrzung im dialogischen Test', Deutsch
als Fremdsprache 12, pp.293-297.
Schwitalla, J . 1979
'Bericht ber das Symposium Dialoganalyse, Heidelberg 10./11.
April 1979', ZGL 7, pp.216-219.
Spillner, B. 1974
Linguistik und Literaturwissenschaft ( S t u t t g a r t ) .
Steger, H. 1967
'Gesprochene Sprache. Zu ihrer T y p i k und Terminologie', Spra-
che der Gegenwart 1 , pp.262-264.
Szondi, P. 1975
Das lyrische Drama des f i n de sicle ( F r a n k f u r t / M . ) .
Trager, G.L. 1964
'Paralanguage: A First Approximation' ( i n ) Dell Hymes ( e d . ) ,
Language in Culture and Society (New Y o r k ) , pp.274-288.
T u r k , H. 1975
Dialektischer Dialog (Gttingen).
Veltrusky, J . 1976
'Dramatic Text as a Component of Theater', ( i n ) L. Matejka and
J . R . Titunic ( e d s . ) , Semiotics of A r t . Prague School Contribu
tions (Cambridge/Mass.), pp.94-117.
Wellek, R. and A. Warren 1956
Theory of Literature (New Y o r k ) .
 173

Wegner, D. 1977
Gesprachsanalysen. V o r t r a g e , gehalten anlaBHch des 5. Kollo-
quiums des Instttuts f r Kommunikationsforschung und Phonetik,
B o n n / 1 4 . - 1 6 . Oktober 1976 ( H a m b u r g ) .
Weinrich, H. 1961
'Phonologe der Sprechpause', Phonetica 7 , pp.4-18.
Winter, W. 1974
'Echte und simulierte gesprochene S p r a c h e ' , ( i n ) H. Moser ( e d . ) ,
Gesprochene S p r a c h e , Jahrbuch 1972 ( D s s e l d o r f ) , p p . 129-143.
Zimmermann, H. 1965
Zu einer Typologie des spontanen Gesprachs ( B e r n ) .
 MUSIC AS THEME AND AS STRUCTURAL MODEL IN
CHEKHOV'S THREE SISTERS

Harai Golomb

1 Introduction: Potential-Realization Ralationships as Underlying

1
Structural Principle in Chekhov's Later Work

A.P. Chekhov's later work, and particularly the later drama, is or

ganized thematically as pairs, chains, clusters, and/or systems of re
lationships among themes, ideas, characters, e t c . , all describable as
potentials and (non) realizations. I contend that this near-obsession
with potential-realization relationships is so central, so total and all-
pervasive in the later Chekhovian text and world-view, that it
.2
amounts to his own personal 'underlying structure' , accounting more
than anything else for the uniqueness of his poetics; it is a kind of
differentia specifica Chekhoviana. As such, it is a very useful tool
for characterizing Chekhov's work and world along any comparative
axis, whether synchronic, diachronic or panchronic.

Thus, for instance, since Chekhov equally stresses both the exis-
tence-and-worth of the human potential and the inevitability of its
non-realization, he can be sharply and equally distinguished on the
diachronic axis from two groups of authors: (a) his predecessors
(and many contemporaries) in literature and drama, who share with
him only the high valuation of the human potential, and ( b ) his
successors (notably the 'absurd' playwrights and authors), who share
 175

with him only the sense of its inevitable non-realization. It is this

uniquely Chekhovian combination which makes him too complex for
some reductionist critics (in the East and the West alike), who per
petuate the futile controversy about whether Chekhov's view of
reality and mankind is 'positive-optimistic' or 'negative-pessimistic'.
Those c r i t i c s , no matter which side they are o n , oversimplify the
picture by failing to reconcile Chekhov's genuine respect for the
great potential of the human mind, s p i r i t , talent, compassion e t c . ,
with his uncompromising, often relentless pursuit of his characters in
their flight into illusion and self-deception, and the false hope of
realizing those potentials. To him, the unrealized potential of a char
acter is more tangible than many 'hard facts', because it constitutes a
mental d r i v i n g - f o r c e , motivating wishes, yearnings, actions and i n
actions; it is a 'presence of absence'. The greater the potential, the
more actively f r u s t r a t i n g its non-realization (or the more present its
absence). Lesser potentials, unworthy of realization according to
3
Chekhov's values , are often realized, however, and their actual
presence makes even more poignant the sense of deprivation resulting
from the non-fulfillment of the greater potential. T h u s , for instance,
in Three Sisters Natasha and Kulygin fully realize their meagre,
narrow potentials and feel themselves f u l f i l l e d , satisfied people; more
over, Natasha sees to it that her children are given the best op
portunities to realize their potentialities which Chekhov regards as
non-existent (since they are to be educated by her, taught by a
Kulygin and surrounded by the stifling atmosphere of Protopopov's
direct and indirect presence and the provincial township). On the
other hand, the sisters retain their relatively high potentials to the
end, but they are deprived, through the actions of internal (mental)
and external forces, of the conditions essential for realizing them.
4
Schematically , t h e n , the three generations of Prozorovs can be de
scribed as: (a) 'potential-realized' or 'presence-of-presence' (the de
ceased f a t h e r ) ; ( b ) 'potential-unrealized' or 'presence-of-absence'
(the sisters and A n d r e y ) ; and (c) 'non-potential-realized', or
'absence-of-presence' (Bobik and Sofochka). It is important to note,
 176

however, that only ( b ) is represented in the t e x t , whereas both (a)

and (c) are 'present absences' textually. This is no accident: the
later Chekhov always tends to focus attention on the more complex,
the more meaningful and semantically loaded. It is to a great extent
through the unrealized potential of his characters that he realizes his
own, and his t e x t ' s , literary potential.

The basic thematic structure in Chekhov's later work, t h e n , is usu

ally trichotomic (in contrast to the dichotomic structure typical of
most pre-Chekhov drama). The trichotomy consists of (a) a (nor-
matively positive) potential; (b) its hypothetical realization (once
again, of course, normatively positive, but factually non-existent);
(c) its non-realization (factually present, normatively negative). This
scheme is occasionally modified or changed (see note 4 ) , but it does
prevail in most cases.

Moreover, this basic trichotomy applies equally to characters (e.g.,

Andrey's or Irina's potential, to f u l f i l him- or herself as a human
being - in love, work, education e t c . ) and to themes and phenomena
as such ( e . g . , love and marriage, work, education and knowledge,
music and a r t , science, verbal and nonverbal human communication,
the learning of foreign languages, e t c . ) . The relationships between
these two applications of the basic trichotomic scheme can be accom-
5
modated within the model of reversible hierarchies : in order to
generalize about the potential-realization make-up of a given char
acter, one has to describe the manifestations of that make-up in the
different domains of his life and personality ( i . e . , love, work, educa
t i o n , e t c . ) ; but the reverse is also t r u e : in order to generalize about
the potential-realization make-up of a given theme (love, work, e t c . ,
in the play as a whole) one has to describe the manifestations of that
make-up in the various characters. Thus a character is both higher
and lower than a theme in a hierarchy of levels of generalization.

The potential-realization principle in its structural trichotomic mani

festation is even more powerfully present in Chekhov's syntagmatic
compositional techniques, i . e . , in the way he puts together successive
 177

text-segments, than in his thematic organization. In Three Sisters

there is no single exception to the basic rule of balance and emotional
restraint, whereby emotionally loaded potentials, which conventionally
generate (in readers and spectators) expectations of emotional or sen
timental outbursts or excessive reactions, are always followed by 'dis
ruptive' elements which frustrate the conventional expectation. Thus
the anticipated outburst, or other venting of emotional tension, is
doomed to stay forever an unrealized potential, a present absence,, A
far cry from the lukewarm diluted 'understatement' some critics would
have us believe it is, Chekhovian restraint is comparable to a barrel
of explosives, under which Chekhov constantly keeps a fire alive
while tightening the hermetically sealed l i d . Paradigmatically and syn-
tagmatically, thematically and compositionally, Chekhov's poetics is
one of powerfully present absences, of real potentials unrealized, of
tangible, specific and poignant expectation that in spite - and per
haps because - of being barred from materializing in reality, make up
the t r u e fabric of that reality more than 'material' events.

2. Music in 'Three Sisters': Theme, Sound and Technique

Chekhov has often been described as a 'musical' author and (partic-

6
ularly) playwright. In using the term 'music' or 'musical' some schol
ars fail to distinguish between at least three separate, and not neces
sarily interdependent, meanings that are applicable in this context:
thematic, auditory and s t r u c t u r a l . Thus, 'music' in a non-poetic lit
erary text can function: (a) as a theme, when (a part of) the text
is written 'about' music, musicians, playing, singing, e t c . ; ( b ) as
sound-through-reference, when the 'world' of the story (through our
auditory imagination) or the play (through direct appeal to the sense
of hearing) resonates with musical sounds and 'meaningful noises', as
T . Winner (1977: 159) puts i t ; (c) as an active model for organizing
and structuring the text itself, by making (parts of) it music-like in
texture and patterning ( i . e . , by simulating or even producing simul-
 178

taneity of semantic messages, by developing 'motifs' through music

like techniques, e t c . ) . It is self-evident that each of the three can
easily exist without the others; in Chekhov - with varying degrees in
different works - all three can be f o u n d , and in Three Sisters they
coexist and interact with each other. In the present article, however,
I shall confine myself to a detailed discussion of meaning (a) only,
while the other two will be dealt with more b r i e f l y , awaiting fuller
discussion in my book (see note 1 ) , since music-like techniques are
so frequent and varied in Three Sisters that only in a long discussion
can one even attempt to do justice to their numerous subtleties.

2 . 1 . Music as Theme: Communicative Potentials and (Non-) Realizations

2.1.1. Introduction

So far I have not come across a full-fledged discussion of the theme

of music in Three Sisters, although some sporadic insights have been
offered. Most discussions tend to speak in the same breath about all
sound-effects, mentioning neither their different functions nor the
soundless manifestations of the theme of music.

Thus, it is true that a long catalogue of sound - e . g . , Andrey's

violin- and Tuzenbakh's piano-playing, the nurse-maid's lullaby-sing
ing off-stage in Act I I , Masha's whistling (Act I)/ the ringing of
bells (Act I I I ) , the musical sounds of accordion and guitar, humming
and mumbling of tunes and 'nonsense' sounds by different characters
- can be reconstructed from the play, and it is true that in the
play's nonverbal auditory texture all of these sounds, and many
others, play a part. Yet, I think that generalizing about 'meaningful
noises' - an apt phrase in itself, to be sure - is simply not enough,
because the function of music in Three Sisters is far more complex
and manifold than a generalizing approach would imply. Thus, no
sound is heard from Masha's apparent refusal to play the piano, re
sulting in her forgetting how to play, or from Irina's simile likening
 179

her soul to a precious locked-up piano whose key has been lost.
Nevertheless both of these 'present absences' do belong to the theme
of music in the play and they are much more closely related to non-
musical themes and events ( e . g . , Masha's refusal to play is analogous
to her refusal to set her foot in the house ever again (Act I V ) , and
Irina's 'precious piano' is analogous to her 'white birds' and her own
Moscow) than to sounds that do not belong to the theme of music.
Even Andrey's violin-playing, which is acoustically present on stage,
is meaningfully analogous to some of his non-musical actions, and
- by contrast - to Masha's refraining from playing, while it has little
or no connection to many musical and non-musical sounds in the play.

What, t h e n , is the function of music as a theme in the play? In order

to answer this question one has to let sense prevail over the senses
and to place music squarely where it belongs in the play's network of
themes, ideas and values, rather than in the context of sound-effects
and stage directions.

In his treatment of the theme of music - just as in the case of compa

rable themes of general human appeal, like love, work, education,
etc. - Chekhov carefully balances between the general and the partic
ular. On the one hand, he lets the key-word of the theme resound
and echo, activating its cloud of conventional, culture-conditioned
associations. (This practice is largely responsible for the misleading
impression of banality that his plays often make on novices.) But, on
the other hand, he always makes even the t r i t e s t of themes acquire
new and unique content through its interaction with a person or a
context-of-situation for whom or for which it signifies something
special and specific. This 'something' hardly ever revolutionizes the
familiar concept; rather, it modifies and specifies, as a variation on a
theme.

This is usually achieved through a process of mutual selection of the

relevant and elimination of the irrelevant for the given interaction.
Thus, out of the universal potentialities of the term 'music' in its
thematic capacity, the specific context of the Prozorovs and their
 180

friends selects a few (e.g., a means of nonverbal emotional commu

nication, a p a r t of the h i g h e r - d a s s education, a p a r t of Western c u l
t u r e and civilization) while rejecting others ( e . g . , that music can be
played or sung, performed by soloists, chamber g r o u p s , choirs and
orchestras, etc.). Similarly, out of the potentialities inherent in the
Prozorovs and t h e i r f r i e n d s , music selects certain features as relevant
to it and eliminates o t h e r s .

Music in T h r e e Sisters is f i r s t and foremost a means of communica

tion. And, in a truly Chekhovian manner, it represents different
spheres, types and degrees of communicative potentials and realiza
tions, doing so (once again in a typically Chekhovian way) not
t h r o u g h direct statements but t h r o u g h a network of oblique analogies
and juxtapositions that the t e x t supplies as potentials to be realized
by us (as readers and s p e c t a t o r s ) . One of the fields in which Che
khov is a genuine precursor of t w e n t i e t h - c e n t u r y literature is in the
essential, inescapable role he assigns to his readers/spectators as
integrators of seemingly sporadic, unrelated details. While in all
complex literature such integration enriches and deepens meanings
and messages, in Chekhov it is often a precondition for interest (as
opposed to boredom) and sometimes for making sense on the most
elementary level.

2.1.2. Music and the Prozorovs

The Prozorovs are the product of the mentally maiming education of

their father. T h e late General ( i t is amazing how powerfully present
this absent character is) "oppressed us [his children] with educa-
8

tion", as A n d r e y puts it in Act I . This education comprised every

thing that, according to the f a t h e r ' s strongly held convictions, was
proper for a general's children to learn in order to be well-educated
human beings; this included, inter alia, foreign languages, science
( f o r the only son in the family) - and music. T h u s , to the four living
Prozorovs music was inseparably linked with t h e i r f a t h e r ' s hierarchy
 181

of values, with his heritage and education. No doubt, when a Prozo-

rov plays a musical instrument on stage he contributes to the musical
orchestration of the scene and the play as a whole; b u t , more s i g n i f i
cantly, he makes an implicit, unconscious statement which betrays his
deeply felt attitude towards himself and his world. Music, being the
only nonverbal and potentially directly emotional part of the father's
heritage, is a 'natural' means of making nonverbal and subconscious
statements-of-attitude of this k i n d .

Chekhov here very skilfully combines the two aspects of music: the
Prozorov-specific and the universally human. Being conditioned by
the specific family history does not deprive music of its universal
traits - a non-referential, nonverbally expressive and emotionally
loaded means of human communication. This is music's potential; but
it can be realized in different ways by different people with different
potentials for realizing its potentials. Against the background of
broad and narrow common denominators in relation to music - the one
shared by all mankind and the other shared by the Prozorovs - the
sharp differences between two individuals, Andrey and Masha, are
clearly marked. Both of them were taught to play by order of the
same father within the same educational framework; both have ex
perienced the death of the father and the downfall of the house, the
Moscow dream, etc. Their reactions, however, are diametrically op
posed: Andrey goes on playing (always backstage, always alone),
whereas Masha, who is reliably reported as having been an excellent
gifted pianist in the past, is said (in Act I I I ) to have 'forgotten' her
skill, having refrained from playing more or less since her father's
death (a simple inference from the time indications in Acts I and I I I ) .

Andrey's playing is indicative of his ambivalence, internal weakness

and subconscious guilt in relation to everything connected with his
father's heritage, kept alive through his sisters' expectations of him.
As far as the conscious part of it all is concerned - his university
studies and plans to become a professor of science, including his
attitude to foreign languages and translations - his behaviour is
clear: he discontinues all activities that tie him to his family's herit-
 182

age and expectations. The resulting conflict and guilt are subcon
scious for the greater part of the play; and playing the violin is his
refuge from his plight. T h u s , violin-playing serves as a device to
characterize Andrey in general. He escapes confrontation, tries to
smooth over t h i n g s , and secretly and passively rebels against what
ever his father stands for - by over-eating, by joining the town
council, by neglecting his studies, by marrying Natasha and ignoring
her infidelity, secretly taking futile revenge by gambling, but staying
on as a husband who pushes baby-carriages when so instructed. His
attitude to music reflects the same pattern: he clings to the least
demanding but the most emotionally viable and soothing part of child
hood and his father's education, while rejecting the demanding and
'oppressive' parts. To him, violin-playing is not a means of com
municating with other people, but a means of escaping the present
through one-way subconscious 'communication' with his own past.
Under these circumstances, music serves as an anti-communicative
means. This attitude of his reaches its peak in the fire scene (Act
I I I ) , when Andrey's violin signifies his inability to react even to such
an event as the f i r e .

Masha, unlike her brother, is (relatively) the most conscious, out

spoken and uncompromising of the Prozorovs. These character traits
are very obvious and have been pointed out by most analysts. What
has been rather overlooked, however, is the exact manner in which
she puts these traits to work. She never seeks conflict, never
preaches her convictions to those directly concerned. She never
stoops to confront Natasha, never tells Andrey directly what she
thinks of him, etc. But, unlike her brother, she makes no secret of
her views, and would never do or say anything in order to please or
to be liked. Her policy is to avoid any contact with falsehood and
pretence, but not to challenge them, not to f i g h t back, and certainly
not to rally support. T h u s , for instance, she would not go near her
parents' former house once it became Natasha's and she declares it
openly - b u t , typically, out of Natasha's hearing range (Act I V ) ; she
dissociates herself from Andrey's behaviour, but would not confront
 183

him; etc. Her attitude to music, too, bears her unmistakable mark:
unlike A n d r e y , she senses t h a t music was meaningful only as long as
it was p a r t of a living hierarchy of values. When General Prozorov
died, and the entire educational and spiritual fabric of the family
disintegrated, she could not go on pretending that nothing had
changed; she could not engage in an activity which had lost its
meaning and raison d ' t r e ; but, typically, she did not make an issue
of it but simply stopped p l a y i n g . Just as knowing foreign languages
in the provincial town was, to h e r , "superfluous as a sixth finger"
(Act I), so was playing the piano without the atmosphere and the
environment that gave it meaning. Thus, Masha is a most genuine
representative of the new t y p e of conflict introduced by Chekhov into
the inventory of drama: the conflict between values that operate
neither through deeds nor even t h r o u g h w o r d s , but rather through
t h e i r v e r y existence and representation on stage. It is Masha's very
being, not anything specific t h a t she explicitly says, which is at con
flict with Natasha's and A n d r e y ' s beings.

I t is characteristic of Chekhov's structural approach to both thematics

and characterization that neither A n d r e y , nor Masha, nor the theme
of music itself, can be meaningfully discussed in isolation. As I have
shown, a principle of mutual characterization is at work h e r e , both as
9
regards characters and as regards themes .

10
2.1.3. T h e Lost Key to the Precious Piano

To conclude this discussion of the theme of music in T h r e e Sisters at

least two more characters have to be considered: T u z e n b a k h a n d , to
a lesser e x t e n t , Irina. T u z e n b a k h was not a son of General Prozorov
and is t h e r e f o r e f r e e from complexes generated by oppressive educa
tion. To him, music fulfils a social-communicative function. His a p
proach to it is l i g h t - h e a r t e d . It is reasonably inferable from circum
stantial evidence, that he had been f o r t u n a t e in achieving playing-
facility and good piano-technique without too much e f f o r t . C o n t r a r y to
 184

A n d r e y , who plays alone in his room, and to Masha, for whom playing
must be meaningful within a system of values, Tuzenbakh plays 'for
fun' and in order to express glibly the moment's passing sentiments.
Therefore, he plays only in public - as background music during
meals, dances, etc. In his unproblematic approach, his light touch,
his easy mastery of the instrument, he is contrasted not only with
the Prozorovs' emotionally loaded approach to music ( s e r v i n g , as it
were, as a kind of normal control-group), but also with his own i n
adequacies and failures in a much more crucial field - in love. Just as
he can easily make a piano respond to his touch, he cannot make
Irina reciprocate his love. Thus, music is exposed as a potentially
dubious means of communication: even with Tuzenbakh's facility music
is a dialogue with a responsive instrument, giving communicative
satisfaction mainly to the player himself in the absence of a t r u l y
understanding audience. Nowhere in Three Sisters does music reach
the degree of mutual communication attained by Masha and Vershinin
in their quasi-nonsensical 'Tram-tam-tam' dialogues (Act I I I ) .

Irina is i n t u i t i v e l y , perhaps subconsciously, but nevertheless keenly

aware of this contrast between his conquest of the piano, so easily
achieved with a combination of strength and sensitivity, and his de
ll
feat in winning her love . Nothing but such an awareness can ac
count for such a seemingly pompous and conceited view of herself, so
untypical of her at this stage of her life, as the following simile ex
presses: "my soul is like a precious piano that is locked up and the
key has been lost". As is usual in Chekhov, in order to appreciate
these words correctly, one has to consider structures and relation
ships rather than isolated events, speeches or characters. In this
case it is the dynamic development of relationships between Irina and
Tuzenbakh which must be considered. Tuzenbakh's wooing of Irina is
obstinate, repetitive, persevering; there is little lightness or facility
about i t . And Irina, more and more despite herself, fails to respond.
During the long years of this relationship she has had numerous op
portunities to watch his agility as a piano player. The contrast that
must have struck her often, perhaps subconsciously, may have made
 185

her draw the analogy between herself and the piano as literal and
figurative objects that respond to Tuzenbakh's touch. Continuing the
line of such possibly subliminal thoughts, and prompted by Tuzen-
bakh lamenting her lack of love for him, Irina smoothly enters the
mood that makes an otherwise far-fetched comparison into an organic,
natural one.
In Chekhov, more than in most other dramatists, one must consider
equally carefully all three relevant factors in the act of communication
- the addresser, the addressee and the message - in order to under
stand any of them. One has to remember that it is Irina that is say
ing these words; that it is Tuzenbakh who is the only addressee and
the only one who hears the message (no one else is present and no
one else overhears); and that the message likens a soul awaiting its
own true lover to a piano awaiting its own true player. Addressed by
Irina to anyone but Tuzenbakh, the simile would be meaningless; and
it could not mean more if spoken to Tuzenbakh by anyone but Irina.
Only between these two, with their own history, and against the
background of the theme of music in Three Sisters, can the simile
sound as precise, sensitive and intimate as it should, despite the
cruelty inherent in its uncompromising exposure of t r u t h . Irina is, as
it were, saying to Tuzenbakh: y o u , whose charms no piano can resist,
stand helpless in f r o n t of this piano, that has all the great potential
that you ever prayed f o r . It is all there, awaiting the magic touch,
and you - elsewhere the expert player - do not have the right key
(in Russian, as in English - but not with full identity - the word
for "key" has purely musical denotations in addition to the one ex
plicitly employed here - an instrument for locking and unlocking).

Once again Chekhov realizes the potentials inherent in music as a

nonverbal, non-referential and emotionally expressive communication
system. All these attributes are equally applicable to love; therefore
the piano-analogy, with its additional highly relevant implication of
touch, is so appropriate. Yet Chekhov never allows allegoric
schematicism in such matters: the potential parallelism between music
and love is realized neither in Andrey nor in Masha. It is realized,
 186

however, in the 'precious piano'-simile, when Irina and Tuzenbakh

reach the peak of their potential for tender, intimate communication
between them. T h u s , there is a realization of the potentials of the
theme of music and of the couple's communication, when Irina speaks
to Tuzenbakh in terms he can understand better than any other per
son in the play (see his sympathetic description of Masha's wasted,
unrealized potential as an excellent pianist doomed to play for an
audience that lacks any understanding). But this moment of t r u t h ,
candour and communication is actually a confession of non-love: the
realization of certain communicative potentials is instrumental in ex
posing the most powerful type of unrealizable potential - a love that
remains forever a wish, a yearning.

"If music be the food of love, play o n ! " says the Duke in the beginn
ing of Shakespeare's Twelfth Night. Tuzenbakh could potentially play
on and o n , if Solyony did not kill even that potential; but whatever
different meanings and functions the theme of music acquires in the
12
play, it never serves as the food of love

2.2. Music as Sound: Preliminary Remarks

I have quoted above Thomas G. Winner as saying that Chekhov's

works (with special reference to Three Sisters) abound in 'meaningful
noises'. In my forthcoming book (see not 1) I shall analyse these
'noises' in detail, classify them according to sound, structure and
function, and relate them to the theme of music, etc. For the moment
I would like to make only preliminary remarks about music and sound
in the play.

Not all music is sound and not all sound is music in Three Sisters.
Just as Irina's 'precious piano' and Masha's refraining from playing
are 'music without sound', so the ringing of f i r e bells, Solyony's 'tsip
tsip' and the noises of Protopopov's approaching Troika are 'sound
without music'. Music is multifunctional, as we have seen, and often
works simultaneously as sound and as theme; as such it should be
 187

analysed under both headings. As sound, however, it is inseparable

from other sounds in comprising the nonverbal sound-texture of the
play.

Without analysing any specific example I would like to draw attention

here only to one principle that is very typical of Chekhov's technique
of employing music, sound and other nonverbal elements in his plays:
his way of linking the verbal and the nonverbal. As a general tenden
cy, he introduces a sound (or some other nonverbal elements) and
gives it an explicit verbal interpretation, either immediately or some
what later. Once the nonverbal element has acquired its verbally de
termined meaning, it can reappear in various contexts and combina
tions, carrying within it the acquired meaning and making it interact
with the new textual environment. Thus, for instance, Andrey's
violin-playing is heard from backstage in Act I before his f i r s t appea
rance on the stage; then Masha interprets the sound, ascribing it to
her brother. Little by little we learn what this playing signifies, until
the very sound of v i o l i n , or reference to i t , immediately carries the
entire thematic weight as a kind of shorthand. A similiar thing hap
pens with the nurse-maid's lullaby-singing in Act I I , though in re
verse order. First, Natasha declares (to Andrey) her intention not to
admit the masked guests, because of Bobik's bad health. Later, when
the nurse-maid's lullaby is heard backstage, it can already be inter
preted by the audience as representing the baby's presence, which
under the circumstances is an extension of Natasha's. It can also
imply calling Natasha's bluff as a devoted mother: while she uses the
baby as an excuse to drive people out (of their rooms as inhabitants,
or of the house as guests) it is the nurse, rather than she, who
actually looks after the child. These meanings are not established as
y e t , and at best they work vaguely and subliminally in the audience's
consciousness; but the groundwork for these interpretations has been
laid as it can only be done by nonverbal means. Little by l i t t l e , once
again, the interpretation gathers momentum. When the nurse-maid's
13
song is heard again at the end of the act, it adds without words a
sharp ironic dimension: when Natasha has made the most out of
 188

Bobik's illness - cancelling the party and d r i v i n g Irina out of her

room - she can go out with her lover Protopopov, leaving the care of
the baby to the maid, whose song serves as a clear reminder of what
the baby is really good for in Natasha's mind.

This sophisticated 'shorthand' use of nonverbal elements, notably

music and other sounds, reinforced by verbal boosters, is one of
Chekhov's contributions to modern drama.

2.3. Music as Structural Model

One of the basic and obvious differences between the typical ways
that textures of music (in its western, tonal version) and language
(and, hence, of literature) can be organized is that verbal material
must be arranged in a successive, linear way if it is to be processed
by addressees in an intelligible manner, whereas in music two or more
melodic lines can be processed concurrently and intelligibly. Chekhov
is keenly aware of this difference between verbal and nonverbal ma
terials as components of the complex and heterogeneous medium of
drama (here music is a model for several nonverbal elements of
theatre, inscribed in the dramatic t e x t ) .

In this respect, once again, Chekhov can be sharply and equally dis
tinguished from his traditional (realistic and pre-realistic) predeces
sors and from his "absurd" successors. Unlike the former, he ex
plores new frontiers in the previously undiscovered country of
dramatic-theatrical simultaneity; unlike the latter, he refrains from
allowing simultaneity to pervade all the strata and components of the
dramatic whole, restricting it to nonverbal material only,

This can be rephrased in potential-and-realization terminology; but,

unlike my discussion in Section 1 above, I am referring here to the
realization by authors of potentials inherent in the dramatic-theatrical
medium, rather than to the realization of potentials inherent in i n
dividuals and/or in central phenomena in human life. In this context,
 189

then, Chekhov can be contrasted with other dramatists as follows:

while p r e - C h e k h o v i a n drama did not realize, indeed was h a r d l y av/are
of, certain potentials of the dramatic medium, Chekhov was one of the
leading pioneers in discovering and realizing t h e m , whereas in the
" a b s u r d " one can f i n d cases of over-realization of "non potentials", of
stretching the material beyond its means and possibilities.

Specifically, I am referring to the fact that Chekhovian dramatic

simultaneity (or " p o l y p h o n y " ) , which will presently be demonstrated,
is characterized by a careful discrimination in the treatment of the
diverse components of the dramatic medium. Never does he allow real
verbal simultaneity (i.e., the actual sounding of two or more verbal
texts on stage at the same time) to occur; but he does develop
sophisticated techniques of quasi-simultaneous organization of verbal
messages, and of real simultaneous presentation of nonverbal elements
among themselves, and of nonverbal elements with verbal ones. The
potential possibility of projecting simultaneous stimuli, peculiar to
drama (being a score for t h e a t r e ) and in opposition to n a r r a t i v e and
poetry, has always been t h e r e to be realized; a n d , in f a c t , it was
realized in theatrical performance long before Chekhov's time. But in
the non-comic written drama, for reasons t h a t cannot be discussed
here, little had been done in t h a t direction before C h e k h o v . On the
other hand, in the " a b s u r d " ( e . g . , in Beckett's Play) verbal simul
taneity is not just simulated, but sometimes really e f f e c t e d , with the
inevitable and deliberately calculated result of the t o t a l , or at least
partial, unintelligibility of the spoken t e x t ( s ) vis a vis an audience of
spectators/listeners. This I have described as " o v e r - r e a l i z i n g a non-
potential": it
is beyond the potential of verbal-semantic lines to be
14
processed simultaneously.

Such real verbal simultaneity looks at f i r s t like musical polyphony;

b u t this is a superficial and misleading analogy, because it is sem-
iotically wrong to equate an intelligible complex with an unintelligible
one on the sole basis of sensory similarity (simultaneous stimuli).
Chekhov's q u a s i , or simulated, "polyphony" is much more comparable
 190

to musical polyphony, since they share a broad and essential common

denominator of processable and intelligible simultaneity, which ac
counts for their comparability in terms of their semiotic function w i t h
in their respective systems.

Chekhov is r i g h t l y described as the f i r s t great master of non-comic

15
lack of communication between characters on stage, but his text
never risks losing communicative contact with the audience. Unlike
most pre-Chekhovian drama, he shows a great deal of broken com
munication, of discontinous dialogue, of total misunderstandings, e t c . ,
among his characters; unlike the " a b s u r d " , he never lets go of the
communicability of the text as such with the audience. In other
words, in Chekhov communication can be poor or absent on the f i c
tional plane, i . e . , on the "reconstructed level" of events and charac-
16
ters, but not on the rhetorical plane, i . e . , between a u t h o r - t e x t - a u
dience.
Space does not permit me to analyse a number of scenes where Chek-
hovian simultaneity is put to work. Such an analysis must be quite
lengthy, carefully weighing numerous subtle details and relationships.
Rather, I shall briefly analyse just one of these scenes, and not the
most complex one at t h a t , mention some others, and advise the reader
to read them bearing in mind what has just been said. Then, going
back from text to analysis, one can test the validity of what has been
said in the light of those scenes.

I shall f i r s t address myself to the very beginning of Three Sisters.

There is a line of dialogue between Ol'ga and Irina (which, in its
turn, consists of their two respective sub-lines), to which Masha's
whistling is added (as a token of half-present absence). Ol'ga refers
17
to this whistling explicitly (p.200) , thereby temporarily connecting
the two lines (of talking and of whistling). Then there is the line of
the three officers (Chebutykin, Tuzenbakh and Solyony), consisting
in its t u r n of three separate sub-lines, interrelated in mutual mis
understanding and lack of communication. The carefully selected com
ments that reach the audience from their broken conversation (of
 191

course, in a work of f i c t i o n , this "selection" is the entire conversa

t i o n ; however, the effect is one of "present absence" of that eternal
nothing that has, supposedly, been withheld from the audience) have
a direct bearing on the sisters' conversation, unwittingly negating
and laughing at the Moscow dream, as it were. However, this integra
tion between the two lines takes place only on the rhetorical plane
(Chekhov "talking to us behind his characters' backs"), while on the
fictional plane the two conversations are distinct and reflect compete
ignorance on the part of the participants in each of them of the very
existence of the other conversation. Thus a complex semantic load is
generated by the creation of typically verbal-dramatic "polyphony":
two ( o r , actually, more) lines that are fictionally simultaneous, inter
sect and i n t e r r u p t each other to simulate real simultaneity, but at any
given moment only one of them is actually uttered. The verbal text as
such, both in the stage and on the page, is successive and linear.

Now the semantic load is f u r t h e r charged by the t r u l y simultaneous

treatment of nonverbal material: visual ( e . g . , the significant colours
of the sisters' dresses, the equally significant particulars of architec
t u r e and f u r n i t u r e demanded in the stage directions), auditory ( e . g . ,
Masha's whistling) and gesticular ( e . g . , the static or dynamic bodiily
postures of the characters demanded, too, in the stage directions).
These nonverbal, but semanticized, presences interact with the verbal
quasi-polyphony through their continuous, t r u l y simultaneous exis
tence. Subsequently, the scene develops in a genuinely music-like
patterning by introducing the characters from backstage one by one,
moving them into the f r o n t room to join the mainstream conversation,
each contributing his own motif before joining the others in some sort
of unified dialogue (in a way, t u r n i n g quasi-heterophony into quasi-
polyphony). One can describe this process as 'Haydn in reverse', as
a "reunion symphony", or as an exposition of multi-thematic textures
(see pp.200-201, the entrances of Tuzenbakh, Solyony and Chebuty-
kin). This is music-like organizational technique par excellence,
treating literary thematic material, rather than verbal sound material,
in a manner analogous to polyphonic treatment of musical thematics.
 192

Far more complex are the confession-scenes in Act III (with Natasha's
speechless appearance and disappearance contrasting the sisters' own
polyphony on p.246), and, above a l l , the final tableau of the entire
play. Here diverse stimuli, whose very simultaneous heterogeneity is
specifically dramatic, are employed concurrently: verbal ones (the
sisters' craving and quest for meaning in Ol'ga's " I f Only We Knew"
simultaneously interwoven with Chebutykin's nihilistic nonsense re
f r a i n s ) ; auditory ones (the military band playing) and visual-gestural
ones (Andrey pushing the baby-pram and Kulygin, smiling cheerfully,
in the background). Each of these is heavily loaded semantically, and
all are projected at the audience after their respective meanings have
been established and circumscribed well in advance throughout the
play. In this last scene they interact and modify each other recip
rocally, producing the f i n a l , highly condensed and carefully balanced
complex of meanings with which the audience is supposed to depart
from the play and to bear in mind.

It is beyond the scope of the present discussion to spell out the de

tailed thematic interpretation of this scene. Suffice it to say in this
context, that only the use of music-like techniques applied to verbal
and nonverbal material, each treated according to its "natural" char
acteristics, can produce so complex and controlled an effect with such
seemingly simple and naturally-flowing means.

For Chekhov the dramatist music serves as a model for structuring

his " w o r l d " , not only his t e x t . It is an active, though perhaps partly
subconscious, "modelling system", manifest not only in textual pat
t e r n i n g , but also in thematic structuration and in the way characters
are juxtaposed with each other, in partial contrast and/or harmony.
Themes, meanings and characters are made to relate to each other, as
well as to semanticized nonverbal components of the t e x t , in manners
comparable to the ways melodic lines in counterpoint may relate to
each other. No constituent element - be it a scene, a theme, a char
acter - can be t r u l y defined and delineated unless and until it has
been described in terms of the relationships that obtain between it
and its relevant highly semanticized structural network(s). Only these
 193

relationships, rather than their constituent elements, can perform the

function of referring to internal or external Fields of Reference, in
the sense of Hrushovski (1976). In other words, Chekhov conceives
of his themes and characters "poiyphonically": thematic, psycholog
ical, ideological ( e t c . ) networks are heavily and mutually interdepend
ent. Just as "total independence" of a melodic line in a piece of Re
naissanc polyphony ( e . g . , Palestrina), or even in certain passages
18
by Bach , is a mirage, since the polyphonic whole makes interdepend
ence misleadingly sound like a coincidence of independences, so does
a Chekhov character or theme derive its very identity and signif
icance from the process of mutual reinforcement between it and other
themes, characters and relationships, e t c . , in the t e x t .
It must be stressed, however, that Chekhov differs from others in
this respect in terms of degree only: a Shakespearean theme or char
acter, for instance, is also defined better and more fully when its
structural connections (analogical, metonymical, contrastive, etc.)
have been considered; but its Chekhovian counterpart has less
"thematic backbone" in its own r i g h t : just enough to provide support
for other themes and characters in return for their support for i t .
The entire grand design of Chekhovian dramatic architecture is built
on the firm structure of numerous fragile elements lending each other
indispensable support through a dense thicket of subtle channels.

Examples are numerous and cannot be discussed here. Suffice it to

say that it is far more essential and indispensable to speak of, e . g . ,
any of the sisters and Andrey with constant reference to all of the
others (and to extra-family characters), and to speak of music in
Three Sisters with reference t o , e . g . , work, love, education, e t c . ,
than it is to speak of Lear with reference to Gloucester, for instance.
This is simply because Lear has enough in him without reference to
Gloucester (this argument requires f u r t h e r elaboration, to be carried
out elsewhere).

To conclude: the coincidence of the thematic, auditory and structural

presences of music in Three Sisters is not an a priori necessity:
 194

world drama and literature abound in examples of just one or two of

these. But, with hindsight, this coincidence makes the play - far
more than "jingling poems" like Poe's "The Raven", for instance
- into one of the most powerfully musical works of verbal art ever
written. This is why the subtle and intricate subject of music in
Three Sisters - transcending as it does the limits of this specific
masterpiece and bearing on the problem of the frontiers and poten
tialities of "musicality" in literature in general - so richly deserves
f u r t h e r and more penetrating study.

Notes

1 The views presented in section 1 as a series of statements are to

be f u l l y developed in my book The Presence of Absence: Towards
a Poetics of Chekhov's Later Drama (in preparation), where they
will be furnished with textual and bibliographical evidence.
2 I am indebted to my friend and colleague Dr. Menakhem Perry's
theory of "semantic 'deep structure' of poets". So far the theory
has not been published in f u l l , but only effectively applied to
several Hebrew poets (in a Hebrew article). Prof. Perry cannot be
held responsible, t h e n , for the inevitably partial employment of his
theory here.
3 How and to what extent a structured hierarchy of values can be
extracted and abstracted from Chekhov's writings is one of the
questions I shall tackle in the book (see note 1 ) .
4 It is difficult to think of an author whose work defies neat
schemas and t r i t e 'isms' more than Chekhov's. One of the chief
aims of the detailed discussion in my book (see note 1) is to ex
pose the limitations of the various schemas, including this one, in
the face of the infinite variety of Chekhovian subtleties.
5 I am indebted to my colleague and teacher Prof. B. Hrushovski,
from whom I have learned some of the most fundamental concepts
and models of theoretical thinking in poetics, including this one.
See his presentation (1976), p p . 4 - 6 , especially 1.2.5. ( p . 6 ) .
6 See, for instance, Nilsson (1967) and Winner (1977).
7 Direct appeals to the ear through the foregrounding of the sounds
of language, as in the prosodic organization of poetry, are defini
tely a fourth meaning of 'musical' in the language of certain critics,
but it stays outside the scope of this discussion.
 195

8 The father's education does not emerge as altogether negative in

the play. I cannot go into this complex and fascinating subject
here.
9 Of course, the characterization of the theme of music would greatly
benefit from its juxtaposition with the structure of comparable
themes, but this cannot be done here.
10 Although all of the five English translations that I have checked
translate Irina's phrase "Dorogoy Royal'" (Act IV) as "expensive
(grand) piano", this unanimity does not alter my conviction that
the translators were inattentive to a very important subtlety (and
in Chekhov the subtle and the important frequently coincide).
There is no doubt in my mind that the adjective 'expensive' is ex
tremely inappropriate in this context, and the best near-equivalent
I could t h i n k of is 'precious*.
11 In his later drama Chekhov often shows characters whose strength
in one aspect of life throws into bold relief their weakness in an
other (or vice versa). Thus, for instance, in The Seagull all the
major characters reflect each other's strengths and weaknesses as
a r t i s t s , lovers and parents through an intricate network of
straightforward and oblique analogies between them and between
their large variety of t r a i t s . In The Cherry Orchard, for instance,
Lopakhin's strength in business affairs is sharply contrasted with
his total helplessness in romantic and matrimonial affairs, as well
as with a somewhat reversed combination in Ranevskaya and with
other variations in Trofimov, Anya and Varya.
12 The Subject of the theme of music has had its exposition here, but
has not been exhausted. Thus, for instance, the two playing beg
gars in Act IV have been omitted from the discussion, because
they are marginal in relation to the main aspects of the theme.
More central is Natasha's playing The Virgin's Prayer for Protopo-
pov, which is heard in Act IV and signifies the deterioration of
the family's piano together with the rest of the house: Natasha has
found the key to the literal precious piano of the family . . .
I would also like to mention the end of Act II in Uncle Vanya,
where the stifling presence of Professor Serebryakov is so keenly
felt in his objection to Yelena's wish to communicate through music.
Compare this to Kulygin's reflecting His Headmaster's Voice in
doubting whether it is proper for Masha to take part in a concert.
13 Chekhov does not specify when the song should stop, and this
leaves room for the director's interpretation. The song can fade in
and out, gradually or a b r u p t l y , several times without contradicting
the playwright's instructions.
14 This statement may require some qualification and refinement. In
actual theatrical performance, the nature, degree, d i s t r i b u t i o n ,
balance, and actual existence of unintelligibly uttered verbal
material are to a considerable extent, and quite inevitably, left to
the discretion of the performers - i . e . , the director and the ac
t o r s . They can, if they wish, carefully "orchestrate" stresses and
 196

pauses; regulate tempo and pace of verbal d e l i v e r y ; manipulate

spectators' expectations e t c . - so as to foreground a n d / o r back
ground elements t h a t enhance or impair intelligibility, as the case
may b e . However, as f a r as the w r i t t e n dramatic t e x t qua score of
theatrical potentialities is concerned, the v e r y authorial i n s t r u c
tion ( s t a g e - d i r e c t i o n ) o r d e r i n g verbal simultaneity amounts to e n
couraging the performers to make each verbal message into a
noise-screen impairing the potential intelligibility of the o t h e r ( s ) .
15 He is also a master of communication and understanding among
c h a r a c t e r s , in certain cases. T h e subject deserves separate t r e a t
ment.
16 See Hrushovski ( 1 9 7 6 ) , p.5.
17 Page reference are made to Chekhov: Five Major Plays, translated
by Ronald Hingley ( O x f o r d U n i v e r s i t y Press: New Y o r k , 1977).
18 In a forthcoming study I shall demonstrate in what w a y s , s t r u c
t u r a l l y , Chekhov's polyphony is more analogous to Palestrina's
than to Bach's.

References

H r u s k o v s k i , Behjamin 1976
Segmentation and Motivation in the T e x t Continuum of L i t e r a r y Prose
( T h e First Episode of War and Peace). T e l - A v i v U n i v e r s i t y : T h e
Porter Institute for Poetics and Semiotics (PPS 5 ) .
Nilsson, N . A . 1967
'Intonation and Rhythm in Chekhov's Plays', i n : R . L . Jackson
( e d . ) , Chekhov: A Collection of Critical Essays (Englewood C l i f f s ,
N . J . : Prentice H a l l ) / p p . 1 6 1 - 1 7 4 .
Winner, T . G . 1977
'Syncretism in Chekhov's A r t : A S t u d y of Polystructured T e x t s ' ,
i n : P. Debreczeny and T . Eekman ( e d s . ) , Chekhov's A r t of Writ
i n g : A Collection of Critical Essays (Columbus, Ohio: Slavica),
pp.151-165.
 DIE STRATEGIE DER PARADOXIE. ZUR LOGIK DER KONVERSATION
IM DANDYISMUS AM BEISPIEL OSCAR WILDES*

Ernest W.B. Hess-Lttich

Even things that are true

can be proved.
The well-bred contradict
other people.
The wise contradict them
selves.
Oscar Wilde

1 Die sprachliche Strategie. Paradoxie als questio inter disciplinas

Das - f r Oscar Wilde nach dem berhmten Urteil Richard

Ie Gal Mennes "only a truth standing on its head to attract atten-
1
tion" - ist seit der Antike Gegenstand philosophischen Streitens. Die
Streitfrage als causa theoretischer Anstrengung wurde jedoch spte
stens zur Streitfrage als questio interdisziplinrer Verstndigung ber
den Begriff und das von ihm Bezeichnete, seit sich an ihm nicht mehr
nur der klassische Streit zwischen Logikern und Rhetorikern entzn
det, sondern seit er, in ihrem Gefolge, im heutigen Gebrauch von
Mathematikern und Psychologen, Linguisten und Literaturwissenschaft
lern, Pdagogen und Soziologen und Ethnologen und Theologen z u
nehmender Metaphorisierung anheimzufallen d r o h t .
 198

In der Volkskunde wurde das Paradoxe als wichtiger, ja oft geradezu

konstitutiver Bestandteil von Textarten wie Ratselbchern, Sprich-
w r t e r n , Schwanken, Legenden, Volkssagen und Marcnen ausgemacht.
So gibt etwa Max Lthi in seiner kenntnisreichen Arbeit ber "Das
2
Paradox in der Volksdichtung" eine Flle von Beispielen, deren Ge-
meinsamkeit in eher allgemein formulierten Bestimmungen wie der coin-
cidentia oppositorum oder der bifrons Janus zu liegen scheint, die als
"Leitfiguren mystischen wie auch manieristisch-barocken Begreifens
3
und Dichtens" berkommen seien. Doch welches Phnomen damit
prazis definiert werden soll, bleibt vage: "Das scheinbar Sinnlose
erweist sich als sinnvoll" ( p . 472); "Die Paradoxien des Ratsels sind
formal ein Analogon zu den Paradoxien des Daseins" ( p . 473); "Das
Selbstverstandliche ist nicht selbstverstandlich" ( p . 474); zum einen
wird es als "eine Art L'art pour l'art des Absurden" bestimmt
( p p . 477, 484), zum anderen vom Absurden explizit unterschieden
( p . 478).

Das credo quia absurdum ist bis heute auch in er Literaturwissen-

schaft Leitmotiv er Auseinandersetzung ber Autoren wie Kleist oder
Kafka, Hebbel und Hofmannsthal, von Wilde bis Carroll und Chester-
4
ton oder Beckett geblieben . Die vielfach zu beobachtende Neigung,
die Funktion paradoxalen Sprachgebrauchs in der Literatur auf die
mystische discordia concors zu reduzieren, auf die coniunctio opposi
torum mit dem Ziel "to create an atmosphere of mood, mystery, and
magic" , wird den Autoren meist ebensowenig gerecht wie der Ver-
such, die Verwendung von Paradoxa ausschlielSlich geistesgeschicht-
lich aus einer jeweiligen Epoche (wie Barock oder Romantik oder f i n -
de-sicle) zu erklaren.

Statt an diese literaturwissenschaftliche Diskussion bruchlos anzu-

knpfen, scheint es daher zunachst sinnvoller, sich vor der Annhe-
rung an die Paradoxie bei Oscar Wilde grundsatzlich der Wurzeln des
Begriffs erneut zu versichern. Denn die heutigen Verwendungsweisen
des Begriffs in spieltheoretischen oder arithmetischen Argumentationen
in Mathematik und Physik, im (sozial-)therapeutischen Verstandnis
 199

der Bateson-Schule in Psychologie, Soziologie und Padagogik oder in

theologischen Rekonstruktionen scholastischer Gottesbeweise lassen
sich auf zwei philosophische Traditonsstrange z u r c k f h r e n , auf de-
nen auch die Argumentationstheorie basiert , die nicht unerwahnt
bleiben darf, wenn Paradoxie als implizit-argumentative Strategie in
der Konversation angemessen problematisiert werden knnen soll.

In der Logik wurde nach Aristoteles' Urteilslehre 'Paradoxie' zunachst

unter den Aspekt des "kontradiktorischen Widerspruchs" formuliert,
nach dem als unmglich gelte, "da ein Identisches an einem Identi-
schen zugleich in derselben Hinsicht bestehe und nicht bestene"
(IVIetaphysik G 3, 1005 b ) , logisch sei Paradoxie mithin als Wider-
spruch zu definieren, der sich durch formal korrektes SchlieBen
(folgerichtige Deduktion) aus "wahren" (je beweisbaren) Prmissen
o

ergebe . lm klassischen "Satz vom ausgeschlossenen Widerspruch"

negiert Aristoteles, daB es mglich sei, "wahr zu reden [ . . . ] , wenn
man ber ein Identisches gleichzeitig einander widersprechende Be-
hauptungen" aufstelle (Metaphysik G 6, 1011 b ) ; Paradoxie ware also,
als Verletzung dieses Gesetzes, die Existenz zweier Aussagen, deren
g
jede genau dann wahr ist, wenn die andere falsch ist: p = q - q .
Wenn berdies beide Aussagen je beweisbar und logisch 'wahr', d . h .
ohne Bezugnahme auf Aussagen ber die Welt der Erfahrungen aus-
einander ableitbar sind, spricht man von logischer Antinomie. Neuer-
dings wird dabei oft zwischen syntaktisch definierter Paradoxie im
10
engeren Sinne und semantisch definierter Antinomie unterschieden ,
ohne daB dies freilich in der logischen Literatur zu einer strengen
und durchgangigen begrifflichen Trennung gefhrt natte. Die beiden
bekanntesten und meist zitierten Beispiele f r diese Typen paradoxa-
11
Ier Ableitung sind die sogenannte Russellsche Paradoxie von 1901
und das Lgnerparadoxon im berhmten "KreterschluB" des griechi-
12
schen Philosophen Eubulides, einem Schier Euklids von Megara . Sie
stenen freilich in einer T r a d i t i o n , die von Zenon und Heraklit ber
Nicolaus Cusanus und Giordano Bruno bis zu Stphane Lupasco und
George Melhuish reicht, und die eine Flle von Beispielen in Logik,
 200

Literatur und Kunst hervorgebracht hat, die hier, so reizvoll es ge-

13
wi ware, natrlich nicht im einzelnen diskutiert werden knnen

Ihnen gemeinsam sind jedoch drei deskriptive Merkmale, durcn die

sich logische (syntaktische und semantische) Paradoxien allgemein
kennzeichnen lassen: Selbstbezogenheit, Widersprchlichkeit und Zir-
kelhaftigkeit. Dabei kann sich die logische Zirkularitat einersets als
14
circulus vitiosus darstellen, f r den schon der Ouruboros als arche-
typisches Symbol galt, andererseits als regressus ad infinitum, den
Zenon in seinen Unendlichkeitsparadoxa immer wieder variierte, von
denen der Wettlauf zwischen Achill und der Schildkrte - nicht zuletzt
15
durch Lewis Carroll - vielleicht das bekannteste Beispiel ist . Man
erinnert sich dabei auch der einschlagigen Stelle in A r t h u r Schnitz-
16
Iers Novelle Flucht in die Finsternis :

Leinbach [ . . . ] hatte damals einen Beweis gefunden, da es eigentlich

keinen Tod auf der Welt gebe. Es sei ja zweifellos, erklarte er, daB
nicht nur f r Ertrinkende, sondern f r alle Sterbenden im letzten
Augenblick das ganze Leben mit einer ungeheuren, f r uns andere
gar nicht zu erfassenden Geschwindigkeit noch einmal sich abrolle. Da
nun dieses erinnerte Leben natrlich auch wieder einen letzten
Augenblick habe und dieser letzte Augenblick wieder einen letzten,
und so weiter: so bedeutet das Sterben im Grund nichts anderes als
die Ewigkeit - unter der mathematischen Formel einer unendlichen
Reihe . . .

Nun ist das Problem zwar mathematisch gelst - es gibt unendliche

Reihen mit endlichem Grenzwert - aber " f r die Anschauung" bleibt
17
die Paradoxie bestehen . Das Selbstverstandliche der alltaglichen
Wahrnehmung ist dann in der Tat nicht mehr selbstverstandlich, wenn
wir sie definieren sollen: "Du siehst, Aristoteles, wie schwierig es
i s t , Wahrnehmbares zu definieren - es f h r t immer zu Paradoxa", sagt
18
Eubulides in Molines fiktivem Dialog ber den Sorites und die Rela-
tivitat gitiger Definitionen. Denn wenn es theoretisch mglich ist,
den Wahrnehmungsproze im Sinne des Unendlichkeitsparadoxons ad
infinitum zu segmentieren, ist das Objektive Funktion des definierten
Segments, ist Wahrheit Funktion des Axioms, ist Rationalitt des Han-
delns Funktion der je relativen Interpunktion von ProzeBphasen des
Handelns. Die unbegrenzte Spaltbarkeit rationalen Diskurses bis zum
 201

Punkt irrationalen Reflexes, die durch reductio ad absurdum proble-

matisierte Alltagsevidenz, exponiert ein Problem, dessen Komplexitat
den Rahmen unserer Diskussion sprengen mte, wrden wir es bis
19
in seine paradoxen Konsequenzen hinein verfolgen . Es hat Logiker
wie Literaten bis heute nicht ruhen lassen; in Tom Stoppards Jumpers
20
wird es von George mit konfuser Konsequenz umkreist :

A remarkable number of apparently intelligent people are baffled by

the fact that a different group of apparently intelligent people profess
to a knowledge of God when common sense tells them - the f i r s t
group of apparently intelligent people - that knowledge is only a
possibility in matters that can be demonstrated to be true or false,
such as that the Bristol train leaves from Paddington. And yet these
same apparently intelligent people, who in extreme cases will not even
admit that the Bristol train left from Paddington yesterday - which
might be a malicious report or a collective t r i c k of memory - nor that
it will leave from there tomorrow - for nothing is certain - and will
only agree that it did so today if they were actually there when it
left - and even then only on the understanding that all the observ
able phenomena associated with the train leaving Paddington could
equally well be accounted for by Paddington leaving the train - . . .

Die logische Kuriositat des Paradoxons kann in effectu zur schlag-

lichtartigen Klarsicht unmittelbarer Erkenntnis wie zur pathogenen
EIockade des Denkens f h r e n . Es lag daher nicht nur aus semioti-
schen Grnden nahe, den syntaktischen und semantischen Paradoxien
der Logik die "pragmatischen Paradoxien" der Psychologie zur Seite
zu stellen. Darunter wird in der Psychotherapie der Bateson-Schule
die semiotische Widersprchlichkeit konkomitanter Signale in komple-
mentren Kommunikationsverhaltnissen verstanden. In der popularen
Fassung Paul Watzlawicks besagt dies folgendes:

In diesem Kontext [ i . e . komplementarer Kommunikationsverhaltnisse]

wird eine Mitteilung gegeben, die a) etwas aussagt, b) etwas ber
ihre eigene Aussage aussagt und c) so zusammengesetzt ist, daB diese
beiden Aussagen einander negieren bzw. unvereinbar sind. Wenn also
die Mitteilung eine Handlungsaufforderung ist [vom Typ "sei spon-
t a n " , "liebe micn" e t c . ] , so wird sie durch Befolgung miachtet und
durch MiBachtung b e f o l g t . 2 1

Eines der Beispiele ist einem Dialog in Prousts Les plaisirs et les
jours entnommen, in dem die Paradoxie aus dem Widerspruch zwischen
22
individuellem Gefhl und gesellschaftlichem Verhaltenskodex erwachst :
 202

Als e r zu s p r e c h e n a n s e t z t e , e r r t e t e e r t i e f :
" M o n s i e u r L e g r a n d , i s t es b e s s e r , wenn mein O n k e l g l a u b t , da ich
w e i , da e r s t e r b e n m u , o d e r n i c h t ? "
" E r soll es n i c h t g l a u b e n , A l e x i s . "
" A b e r w e n n e r mit m i r d a r b e r s p r i c h t ? "
" E r w i r d mit I h n e n n i c h t d a r b e r s p r e c h e n . "
" E r w i r d mit m i r n i c h t d a r b e r s p r e c h e n ? " sagte A l e x i s b e r r a s c h t ,
d e n n das w a r die e i n z i g e M g l i c h k e i t , die e r n i c h t v o r a u s g e s e h e n h a t
t e : j e d e s m a l , wenn e r b e g a n n , s i c h den Besuch bei seinem O n k e l v o r
z u s t e l l e n , h r t e e r i h n mit d e r Milde eines P r i e s t e r s vom T o d e s p r e
chen.
" A b e r w e n n e r doch d a r b e r s p r i c h t ? "
" D a n n sagen S i e , da e r sich t u s c h t . "
" U n d w e n n ich w e i n e ? "
"Sie haben h e u t e schon z u v i e l g e w e i n t , Sie w e r d e n bei ihm n i c h t
weinen."
" I c h werde nicht w e i n e n ! " rief Alexis v e r z w e i f e l t , "aber dann w i r d er
d e n k e n , da ich keinen Kummer f h l e , da ich i h n n i c h t liebe . . .
mein k l e i n e r O n k e l ! "
U n d e r b r a c h in T r n e n a u s .

Die p r a g m a t i s c h e P a r a d o x i e f h r t u n s z u r r h e t o r i s c h e n P a r a d o x i e . Die
Rhetorik ist der zweite der oben angesprochenen Traditionsstrnge
des P a r a d o x o n s , dessen B e d e u t u n g f r die e i n s c h l g i g e D i s k u s s i o n in
m e h r e r e n D i s z i p l i n e n d e r d e r L o g i k keineswegs nachsteht.

Die in d e r Literaturwissenschaft meist mit dem Paradoxen verbundene

Bedeutung des Unerwarteten oder Unkonventionellen leitet sich ver
mutlich von der lateinischen bersetzung von her (= in
opinata) bzw. vom stoischen Sprachgebrauch, den Cicero in seinen
Paradoxa stoicorumr e p r s e n t i e r t , die e r als " a d m i r a b i l i a , c o n t r a q u e
23
opinonem o m n i u m " b e z e i c h n e t . Diese B e d e u t u n g s c h e i n t d u r c h a n t i k e
Quellen gerechtfertigt werden zu knnen, in denen als
Sammelbegriff f r ungewhnliche Ereignisse oder auerordentliche Lei-
24
stungen auftaucht

Kant hat "dem Paradoxen [...] das A l l t g l i c h e e n t g e g e n g e s e t z t , was

d i e gemeine M e i n u n g a u f s e i n e r Seite h a t [...], s t a t t dessen das Pa
radoxon das Gemt zur Aufmerksamkeit und Nachforschung erweckt,
25
die oft zu Entdeckungen f h r t " . F r K a n t s t e h t das Paradoxon
gleichsam z w i s c h e n logischer und sthetischer E g o z e n t r i k , die f r e i l i c h
im S i n n e Abaelards ("Si omnes p a t r e s s i c , at ego non s i c " ) d o r t zu
e n t s c h u l d i g e n s e i , wo sie n i c h t b l o e r E i t e l k e i t d i e n e :
 203

Vorliebe f r s Paradoxe ist zwar logischer Eigensinn, nicht Nachahmer

von anderen sein zu wollen, sondern als ein seltener Mensch zu er
scheinen, statt dessen ein solcher oft nur den Seltsamen macht. 2 6

Der Aspekt des intellektuellen und/oder moralischen chocs f h r t e auch

zur rhetorischen Rubrizierung des als genus ad-
mirabile (das das Wahrheitsempfinden des Richters verletzt) bzw. als
genus turpe (das das ethische Empfinden des Richters v e r l e t z t ) . Im
acutum dicendi genus hat Lausberg die Formen des intellektuellen
Paradox im Sinne eines ordo artificialis zusammengefat ( z . B . Ironie,
Emphase, Littes, Hyperbel, manche Periphrasen, Oxymoron, seman-
27
tisch kompliziertes Zeugma, Chiasmus e t c . ) . Die Formen des ordo
artificialis bezeichnen bereits eine ganze Reihe von Eigenschaften der
Figur, die auch f r Oscar Wilde im Vordergrund gestanden haben
mssen: als genus admirabile vel turpe changiere es zwischen spiele
rischem und provokatorischem Effekt, im ductus subtilis empfehle es
sich als rhetorische Strategie der persuasio, als verfremdende Pointe
diene es zugleich stilistischem ornatus und intellektuellem stimulans,
in der permutatio ex contrario ducta dcouvriere es
ironisch die Position der attackierten Partei mit deren eigenem I n
strument, als demaskierende distinctio wende es das vermeintlich Po
sitive in sein Gegenteil (und diene dabei dem Ausdruck der Verzweif
l u n g , Sinnentleerung, Nichtigkeit, Ungltigkeit von Normen und Um
wertung akzeptierter Werte).

Die Brcke zur logischen Tradition schlgt die Groupe der L t t i -

cher Rhetoriker um Jacques Dubois, wenn sie die Paradoxa zu den
28
mtalogismes rechnet . Whrend es der Logik freilich um die "Auf-
Lsung" des Paradoxons gehen mu - man vergegenwrtige sich etwa
die Qualen Bertrand Russells, den das Paradoxon zu einer langen gei-
29
stigen Blockade seines Denkens verfhrte - interessiert die Rheto
r i k gerade der Sinn im scheinbar Sinnlosen, respektiert sie, mit
Andr Breton, das "Aufgehen jener beiden scheinbar so widersprch
lichen Zustndlichkeiten [ . . . ] in einer A r t von absoluter Wirklichkeit,
30
von Surrealitt" . Was dem Logiker syntaktisch contradictio in
adiectu ist, semantisch "Pseudo-Proposition" (Carnap) oder "category
 204

mistake" ( R y l e ) , ist dem Rhetoriker pragmatisch analoges Be-Zeichnen

widersprchlicher Welt. Als semiotisch manipulierende "opration sur
la logique" weist die Figur auf das sur-real Paradoxe in der Realitt
31
- getreu dem Ausspruch DeQuinceys in seiner Autobiography :

No man needs to search for paradox in this world of ours. Let him
simply confine himself to the t r u t h , and he will find paradox growing
everywhere under his hands as rank of weeds.

2. Die historische Situation. Paradoxie als stilistischer Ausdruck des

New Spirit der Yellow Nineties (Ein Zwischenspiel)

"What is a paradox?", asked Mr. Erskine. " [ . . . ] The way of para

doxes is the way of t r u t h . To test Reality we must see it on the
t i g h t - r o p e . When the Verities become acrobats we can judge them".32

Fr Oscar Wilde sind beide Traditionen gleichermaen bedeutsam: Pa

radoxie als rhetorischer Widerhaken gegen die gedankenlose und be
denkenlose bernahme einer jeweils gerade akzeptierten opinio com
munis ebenso wie Paradoxie als konversationslogisches Verfahren, das
allgemein Alltgliche und positiv Problemlose durch seine Negation,
seine Umkehrung ins Gegenteil zu testen und auf seinen wahren Ge
halt zu p r f e n .

Angesichts der Emphase, mit der uns die Paradoxie auf ihren Kontext
als Bedingung ihrer "Lsung" verweist, ist die in der Literaturwis
senschaft fast konsequente Abstraktion des Wildeschen Werkes von
seinem Entstehungszusammenhang berraschend. Gerade weil Wildes
Strategie der Paradoxie nicht geschichtlich singulr ist, sondern ihm
gemer Ausdruck jenes "relative s p i r i t " der "Yellow Nineties", den
er - durch Nietzsches Polyperspektivismus und Walter Paters epikure
ische Geschichtsauffassung bestens prpariert - mit seiner Generation
der Max Behrbohms und Ernest Dowsens teilte, t u t eine kurze Auf
hellung des Hintergrundes not. Und gerade weil sich die Komplexitt
der Zusammenhnge eilfertiger Rubrizierung nach dem Schema "Para
dox = Verfallssymptom" entzieht, erlaube ich mir in der folgenden
 205

Skizze einen essayistischen D u k t u s , der ("paradoxerweise"?) die He-

terogeneitt der Strmungen vielleicht eher in die Synopsis zu z w i n
gen vermag als die geduldig reihende Rekapitulation drger Details
in den ( l i t e r a r i s c h oft eher desinteressierten) "historisch-materialisti
schen" Darstellungen der Epoche.

" T h e Victorian era comes to its end and the day of sancta simplicitas
33
is quite ended" . Max Behrboom pointiert die Skepsis gegenber
hergebrachten Lsungen, die auf Einheit und Glauben b a u t e n . Bislang
unerschtterlich scheinende Lehrmeinungen werden nicht mehr unbe
sehen bernommen, sondern von verschiedenen Seiten geprft und
modifiziert oder r e l a t i v i e r t oder t o r p e d i e r t . Wenn +q richtig ist, kann
auch -q richtig sein, Position und Negation werden zum 'Gegenposi-
tiven' verschmolzen. Die aufbrechende Kluft zwischen Naturwissen
schaften und sakralen Institutionen, zwischen sozialem Mistand und
ffentlicher Moral, f h r t bei vielen jngeren Autoren zu scharfem Ge
gensatz zur Viktorianischen Wertwelt. Omar Khayyms Rubiyat, im
selben Jahr wie Darwins Origin of the Species in der bersetzung von
Fitzgerald erschienen und zunchst kaum beachtet, t r i f f t j e t z t pltz
lich das sentiment der jungen Generation. Die Philosophie dieses " p e r
sischen Epikur" des 12. Jahrhunderts wird j e t z t ebenso populr wie
Paters Renaissance oder Ruskins Stones of Venice, die Wilde schon als
Student in Oxford in sich aufsog. Swinburne ist jetzt so en vogue
( u n d so u m s t r i t t e n ) wie Lord Byron ein halbes J a h r h u n d e r t vor hm.
Swinburnes und Rossettis outspokeness wirken auf das Viktorianische
Publikum, das an T h a c k e r y und Dickens gewhnt ist, ebenso provo
zierend wie das intellectual laughter George Merediths oder der r e b e l
lische Sarkasmus Thomas Hardys. John Ruskin und William Morris
weisen auf die 'Hlichkeit' der um sich greifenden Industrialisierung
35
hin . Samuel Butler und Matthew Arnold attackieren den respectable
36
Citizen als " p r e t e n t i o u s , ignorant and tasteless Philistine" . Die p u r i
tanischen Philistines sind suburbian und dclass; Spleen und Ennui
sind jetzt fashionable. Und so gemischt wird auch die Sprache:
Fremdwrter, mglichst kursiv gesetzt, sind Ausweis des haut ton ;
alles ist 'sweet' und 'intense' und ' u t t e r ' ; es ist die Zeit "of laughter
 206

and cultivated intensity", der "sweet three volume novels" und " i n
tense books" vom Typ des Robert Elsmere der Mrs. Humphrey Ward;
es ist die Stunde der 'society', der 'upper ten' und der Damen von
Stand, die alle aussehen wie von Rossetti oder Burne-Jones gemalt.

Noch zu Beginn der 80er Jahre hatte Punch bissig k a r i k i e r t , was im

mer sich mit dem Wort aesthete assoziieren lie. Jetzt wird die Eman
zipation der 'Kunst' vom 'Leben' sthetisches Programm - unbeschadet
der naturalistischen Gegenstrmungen, die den Erfolg etwa Ibsens auf
37
den Londoner Bhnen den Boden bereiten . Am Ende der Dekade
werden die Theorien Rossettis ("Notices of Fine A r t " ) , Burne-Jones',
Morris', Paters ("New Epicureanism"), Whistlers ("Ten o'clock"),
Housmans, Beardsleys, auch Wildes ("American Lectures") allgemein
diskutiert und jeder, der 'in' sein will und 'modern', liest wenig sp
ter The Yellow Book (1894-1897), die programmatische Literaturzeit
schrift der "Yellow Nineties", deren Titel durch Oscar Wildes Anspie
lungen auf Huysmans A Rebours im Dorian Gray bereits bestens ein
gefhrt ist.

Paradoxie scheint Wilde das dem eigentmlichen "fin-de-sicle feeling"

der Skepsis, der Unsicherheit, des Zweifels, der Relativierung des
vermeintlich Bestandhaften, des sezierenden intellect eher als der
aufgeklrten reason, des dcouvrierenden esprit eher als des humanen
Geistes, das sprachlich geme Verfahren einer Argumentation, die
nicht auf Wahrheit zielt, sondern auf Widerspruch. Die Argumentation
des Dandy baut gerade nicht auf das Vertrauen in die berzeugungs
kraft von Syllogismen, Enthymemen und exempla, von Deduktion,
visiones und evidentia, sondern auf die Umkehrung des Erwarteten,
Wahrscheinlichen, Probablen und unmittelbar Einleuchtenden.

Er akzeptiert eher Paters Postulat exquisiter sensation, sein hedoni

stisches "carpe d i e m ! " , das nicht epikureischer Ataraxie entspringt,
sondern narzitisch-raffinierter "restlessness" - "over subtilizing re-
38
finement upon refinement" - ; eine Unrast, die nicht zuletzt in dem
Tempo grnden mag, in dem soziale Umwlzungen und weltanschauli
che Erschtterungen auf wissenschaftlichen (Skularisierung), kono-
 207

mischen (Industrialisierung), gesellschaftlichen (Plutokratisierung)

39
Sektoren einander berstrzen :

The Victorians were clearly moving into the world of modern physics,
where all things would exist in a time-continuum and the fixed object
would become but a range of charged energies and continuous
events.40

Auf Wilde bt eine Gesellschaftsschicht zwiespltige Faszination aus,

deren seit der Palmerston-ra petrifizierte 'cocksureness' weniger
durch des Gedankens Blsse i r r i t i e r t als durch materielle Sicherheit
und familiren Schutz legitimiert scheint. Zwiespltig - weil hm einer
seits das geistreiche 'mocking' einer jeunesse dore, die ein Vermgen
in Land oder Aktien oder beidem geerbt hat, das ihr die teure K u l t i
vierung des l'art pour l'art erlaubt, die das zerbrckelnde v i k t o r i a n i -
sche Fundament ihrer sorglosen Existenz negieren und - per nega-
tionem - Funktion des Systems seiner Wertwelt und Denktradition
sind, intellektuelles Vergngen bereitet und weil er es andererseits
zugleich als Flucht durchschaut vor ennui und horror vacui . . .

"Relative Spirit" und "Umwertung der Werte", Pater und Nietzsche,

sind das Bezugssystem einer im Paradoxon stilistisch kondensierten
Skepsis gegenber absoluten Wahrheiten und endgltigen Lsungen.
Die schonungslose Konsequenz des Dcouverte wird zum Index des
konversationellen Unterhaltungswertes eines wit. Seine blasierte A t t i
tude im Party-Gesprch ist Ausweis formaler Eleganz und Abwehr des
Bedrohlichen, ist Protest gegen Mediokritt und Schutzwall gegen den
Absturz. Sein Spleen dient, wie Walter Benjamin sagt, "als Staudamm
gegen den Pessimismus". John Buchan erinnert sich an die society
- "which was getting mixed", wie Du Murier in seinen Punch-Karika-
turen ("Georgius Midas" [1878] etwa) ironisch vermerkt - : "Con
versation was [ . . . ] something of an a r t ,
in which competence con-
41
ferred prestige. The world was friendly and well-bred . . . "
 208

3. Das Ziel der A t t a c k e . Paradoxie als I n v e r s i o n v i k t o r i a n i s c h e r Werte

Die ' W o h l e r z o g e n h e i t ' des V i k t o r i a n e r s b a s i e r t e auf einem System f e s t

gefgter Ordnungsschemata, das seinen W e r t v o r s t e l l u n g e n von Liebe,
Ehe, Treue, Freundschaft, Familie, Besitz, Tradition, Gewissen,
Pflicht, Moral, "respectability and r e p e n t e n c e " , R e s p e k t v o r dem A l
ter und dem Hergebrachten, eine in sich geschlossene Einheit gab
u n d seinen Weg mit sicherem Gelnder v e r s a h . Dieses Gelnder droht
ihm d e r Dandy zu nehmen oder es i n s e i n e r F r a g i l i t t zu e r w e i s e n ;
die sprachliche Konsequenz "unerlaubten Denkens" b e r a u b t den Vik-
torianer des S c h u t z e s , d e r aus d e r G l t i g k e i t des Vor-Entschiedenen
entspringt. Der D a n d y a r g u m e n t i e r t n i c h t n u r gegen die Norm d u r c h
Konstitution einer Gegen-Norm, sondern entzieht dem Normativen
schlechthin den B o d e n . Er s u c h t n i c h t penibel d e n Satz vom G e g e n
satz zu sondern, sieht nicht den Sinn vom W i d e r - S i n n geschieden,
s o n d e r n a t t a c k i e r t die M a t r i x e i n e r O r d n u n g , u n t e r d e r e n N t i g u n g er
steht und deren Prmissen er in dem Mae b e k m p f t , in dem sie i h n
in s e i n e r a b w e i c h e n d e n E x i s t e n z n e g i e r e n o d e r an d e n Rand d r n g e n .
42
Mit dem Postulat des "manners before morals" z i e h t er im G r u n d e
n u r eine Linie bis z u r K e n n t l i c h k e i t a u s , die im P u r i t a n i s m u s angelegt
ist: eine Moral, die zur Ideologie des uerlich gewahrten Scheins
d e g r a d i e r t , was die a u t h e n t i s c h e H a l t u n g l n g s t n i c h t mehr verbrgt.

Gegen das Ideal demtiger Bescheidenheit s e t z t er d e n b l u f f , gegen

bufertige Reue den s o r g l o s e n G e n u : "What consols one nowadays is
not repentance, but pleasure. Repentance is q u i t e o u t of d a t e . And
besides, if a woman really repents, she has t o go t o a bad dress-
43
m a k e r , o t h e r w i s e no one believes in h e r " . N i c h t das ' G e f h l ' e r
w e c k t sein I n t e r e s s e , s o n d e r n a l l e n f a l l s das Schema s e i n e r I n s z e n i e
rung: "[...] a h e a r t d o e s n ' t s u i t me, W i n d e r m e r e . Somehow, it
d o e s n ' t go w i t h modern d r e s s . I t makes one look o l d " , b e m e r k t M r s .
E r l y n n e m i t einem S e i t e n b l i c k i n d e n S p i e g e l . " A n d i t spoils one's
44
c a r e e r at c r i t i c a l moments"

Ma und Mitte sind selbst als Accessoires dmod: " M o d e r a t i o n is a

45
fatal t h i n g , Lady H u n s t a n t o n . N o t h i n g succeeds l i k e e x c e s s " . Lord
 209

lllingworth demonstriert das konversationelle Schema: man nehme eine

gelufige Sentenz, ein standardisiertes Muster und ersetze ein Glied
der Kette durch eines, das sich nicht einzupassen scheint in die er
wartete Folge. "The secret of life is . . . X " , wobei X f r ein norma
tives Postulat viktorianischer Ethik stehen mag. Vor dieser Folie he
ben sich im Wettstreit der Dandies ihre "Lsungen 11 der Preisfrage um
46
so effektvoller ab :

"The secret of life is to take things v e r y , very easily

~ never to have an emotion that is unbecoming
~ to appreciate the pleasure of being terribly,
t e r r i b l y deceived
~ to resist temptation
~ to be looking for temptations. There are not
nearly enough."

Das viktorianische Ideal des gesunden Lebens lt Mrs. Allonby eher

schaudern: " h o r r i d word 'health'"; Lord lllingworth fat "the popular
idea of health" ins plastische Bild: "The English country gentlemen
galloping after a fox - the unspeakable in full pursuit of the u n -
47
eatable" . 'Sensation' statt 'Emotion', 'Beauty' statt ' D u t y ' , denn man
mu wissen, " . . . how important it is not to keep a business engage
ment, if one wants to retain any sense of the beauty of life" und da
"in matters of grave importance, style, not sincerity, is the vital
48
thing" . Der viktorianische Respekt vor den Alteren und Alten - bei
Galsworthy noch zum Glaubensbekenntnis stilisiert: "I believe in my
father, and his father, and his father's father, the makers and
keepers of my estate and I believe in myself and my son and my son's
son . . . " (Country House, p. 176) - provoziert Lord Henry zum Wider-
49
spruch: "les grandperes ont toujours t o r t " . Auf Soames' "What was
good enough for my father is good enough for me" (Galsworthy,
Silver Spoon, p.307) setzt Lord Henry sein " . . . whatever was good
enough for our fathers is not good enough for us" , und "as for the
aged, I always contradict the aged", oder "The tragedy of old age is
51
not that one is o l d , but that one is young" . Das Motiv wird auch im
Party-Dialog der Komdie immer wieder variiert ("As soon as people
 210

52
are old enough t o know b e t t e r , they don'tknow a n y t h i n g at a l l " ,
53
"Fathers should neither be seen n o r h e a r d " ) und zur Adoration der
Jugend schlechthin umgedeutet ("Youth! Youth! There is absolutely
54
n o t h i n g in t h e w o r l d b u t y o u t h ! " ).

Dem " t r i b a l i n s t i n c t " d e r V i k t o r i a n e r , ihrem a u s g e p r g t e n Familiensinn

(s.o. Galsworthy) steht der programmatische Individualismus des
D a n d y e n t g e g e n . " R e l a t i o n s " s a g t A l g e r n o n zu Jack in T h e Importance
of B e i n g E a r n e s t , "are simply a tedious pack of p e o p l e , wo haven't
got the remotest
k n o w l e d g e of how t o l i v e , n o r t h e smallest i n s t i n c t
55
about when to die" . A u c h die V i k t o r i a n i s c h e B e d e u t u n g d e r Ehe h a t
e r in i h r Gegenteil v e r k e h r t - D u m b y : "Good h e a v e n s ! How marriage
ruins a man! It's as demoralizing as cigarettes and far more ex-
pensive" ; das V e r s p r e c h e n eines gemeinsamen Lebensweges auf eine
Zigarettenlnge bezogen - kein Wunder: "Nowadays all married men
live like bachelors, and all bachelors live like married men" . Die
Auffassung von der Ehe als l s t i g e r Fessel des I n d i v i d u a l i s t e n - "The
real drawback of marriage is t h a t it makes one unselfish. And u n
co
selfisch people are colourless. They lack individuality" - kommt
immer wieder vor, zum Teil in wrtlicher Wiederholung von Stzen,
deren Sprecher, heie er Dumby oder Dorian, Lord Henry oder
lllingworth, austauschbar wird: "Men marry because t h e y are tired;
women, because t h e y are curious; both are d i s a p p o i n t e d " , und "the
h a p p i n e s s of a m a r r i e d man d e p e n d s on t h e people he has not m a r -
59
ried" . Wilde s t e h t damit n i c h t etwa a l l e i n ; U m w e r t u n g e n v e r m e i n t l i c h
akzeptierter und festgefgter Wertvorstellungen finden sich nach
hnlichem Muster auch im decadent movement des Kontinents. Man
erinnert s i c h etwa d e r u e r u n g Leverdets in L'Ami des Femmes: "II
f a u t t r e mari comme il f a u t t r e v a c c i n ; a g a r a n t i t . Et de t o u t e s
les jolies q u e l'homme est appel f a i r e , le m a r r i a g e est d u moins la
60
scule q u ' i l ne p e u t recommencer t o u t les j o u r s " ( p . 7 4 )

Die Emotion i s t n i c h t mehr das ' e c h t e G e f h l ' d e r Romantik, sondern

wird in s t h e t i z i s m u s und Dcadence zum N e r v e n r e i z des E r m d e t e n ,
zur sensation des Desillusionierten. Kunst und Ethik werden strikt
 211

voneinander geschieden; der Weg, als knstlerische Mglichkeit z u

mindest, ist frei zu Amoralitt und Anomalie (Huysmans, Pater, Wilde;
weniger bei den Neo-Idealisten wie Maeterlinck, Verhaeren oder
Yeats). Das Verbotene macht neugierig, es reizt das noch nicht Er
fahrene, nicht das allgemein Reputierliche. Im Schnittpunkt von aus
romantischen und naturalistischen Wurzeln ausgezogenen Linien liegt
nun die attraction of s i n , das Faszinosum des Abseitigen, des Auen
seiters, des Delinquenten. Mit der eilfertigen Formel "All crime is
61
vulgar, just as all vulgarity is crime" wird das Fremde handhabbar
und ins eigene sthetische System integriert. Das 'Hliche' und das
'Lasterhafte' leitet sich weniger - wie in den naturalistischen Texten
der Zeit - aus dem Optimismus sozial reformatorischer Motivation her,
sondern aus dem halb schon resignierten Reiz des so noch nicht Ge
kosteten. Man schlrft Absinth und probiert Drogen. Man sucht
"l'horreur de la vie et l'extase de la v i e " . Das erste Aufkommen der
Psychoanalyse lt die Esoterik in der Literatur und Kunst der Zeit
nicht unbeeinflut. Kunst wird zur Wortkunst bei Baudelaire und
Verlaine, zur klanglichen Suggestivitt von bis zum Manierismus ge
triebenen Reihungen ungewohnter Begriffe und fremder Bilder, wie in
Huysmans A Rebours oder Wildes Salome.

Dem nervsen Individuum gilt das Interesse, Des Esseintes oder

Dorian Gray, nicht Klasse oder Kollektiv, nicht dem Typus des Tat
krftigen. Die Figuren bewegen sich in einer society of elgravia,
einer Traumwelt, von der die suburbian middle class nur vage, oft
bizarre Vorstellungen hatte und deren 'Auftritt' sie sehen wollte,
wenn sie am week end zum Theater in Londons West End f u h r . Und
die Romanciers, Dramatiker, Maler hatten ihren Markt: E.F. Bensons
Dodo oder Pineros Gaylord Quex und Duke of St. Olpherts stehen
ebenso dafr wie die Gemlde Sargents, Weigalls, Poynters, Millais'
oder die "Salonausgaben des fin-de-sicle-Menschen" der Wildeschen
62
Aristokratie : die Dandies, heien sie nun Darlington oder Henry
Wotton, Goring, A r t h u r Savile oder l l l i n g w o r t h ; "The f u t u r e belongs
to the dandy", dem Prototyp einer Klasse, "which would radiate i n
tellectual b e a u t y " 6 3 .
 212

4. Das logische Spiel. Paradoxie als intellektuelle Provokation und

rhetorische bung

Sprachliche Schnheit und sarkastischer Scharfsinn sind das Vehikel

effektvoller transvaluation of values, das den Erfolg des Dandy in der
Gesellschaft und auf der Bhne v e r b r g t . Inversion tradierter Kon-
ventionalismen, paradoxes Wortspiel und ambivalentes Epigramm sind
die Mittel seiner stilistischen Strategie. Sein Ziel entspricht der
Janus-Natur seines Instruments: es ist stets sowohl der satirische Bi
als auch der sthetische Sprachgenu, sowohl der mokante Spott ber
die Absurditt versteinerter Normenkorsette als auch die Enthllung
des Konflikts zwischen Realitt und Illusion, der Kluft zwischen Sein
und Sollen, der Diskrepanz zwischen dem luxurisen Reiz des Rituals
und der Seichtigkeit einer in Etikette und Zeremoniell erstarrten Ge
sellschaft, die durch Charles Booths schockierenden Survey on Life
and Labour in London ebensowenig zu erschttern ist wie durch das
Blue Book der Royal Commission on Labour (1894), das das Ausma
sozialen Elends im East End erstmals enthllt: " I t is the problem of
64
slavery, and we t r y to solve it by amusing the slaves" , kommentiert
Lord Henry (und, mit den gleichen Worten, Lord lllingworth) und
diagnostiziert: "There is something t e r r i b l y morbid in the modern
65
sympathy with pain" . Nicht, da sich Wilde identifizierte mit den
sozialpolitischen Bestrebungen der Social Democratic Federation
(Hyndman, William Morris) oder der Fabian Society (die Webbs,
S. Olivier, G.B. Shaw); aber in der Diagnose der Brisanz augenfl
liger sozialer Antagonismen stimmt er mit ihnen berein. Im sarkasti
schen Essay ber The Soul of Man under Socialism erkennt er ihre
Sprengkraft angesichts derer ihr zugleich leichtfiges und ange
strengtes Ignorieren durch die 'civilized world' etwas verzweifelt Be
schwrendes gewinnt.

" I don't desire to change anything in England except the weather",

schneidet Lord Henry karitative Aufwallungen ab und setzt Ratio und
Wissenschaft gegen emotionalen Nebel: "The advantage of the emotions
is that they lead us astray, and the advantage of Science is that it is
 213

66
not emotional" . Eigenes Engagement ist freilich des Dandys Sache
nicht. In der Tat ist er, wie Lord Henry, "quite content with philo-
sophic contemplation" . Er sieht und pointiert den Mistand, indem
er als advocatus diaboli scheinbar f r ihn Partei nimmt, die K r i t i k auf
den Kopf und das Kritisierte damit zugleich auf die Fe stellt. Er
will die Gesellschaft nicht 'eigenhndig' bessern: die asthmatische
Tatkraft des Funktionrs ist ihm ein Greuel; in der schwitzenden
Stickigkeit einer Parteiversammlung wrde sein Sarkasmus wirkungslos
versickern, seine Brillianz htte nicht Spiegel noch Publikum. Die
"charming company of the well-bred" ist das Elixier, das seine Ironie
zum Funkeln, seine Satire zum Sprhen b r i n g t ; er b e r t r i f f t sie an
rhetorischer Routine und durchschaut sie bis auf den Grund ihrer
Mediokritt, 'hypocrisy' und Heuchelei.
Aus dieser intellektuellen Distanz gewinnt er Kraft zur Position zwi
schen den Sthlen; aus dem Erkenntnisekel zieht er die Legitimation
zur Attacke - moralisch noch in der Negation jeder Moral: "Modern
morality consists in accepting the standard of one's age. I consider
that for any man of culture to accept the standard of his age is a
68
form of the grossest immorality" . Die Immoralitt einer die Gegen
stze bertnchenden Gesellschaft freizulegen, ihre Honorigkeit als
Maske zu entlarven, ist das Ziel dandyesken Wortspiels - nicht aus
sozialkritischem oder gar revolutionrem Impetus, wohlgemerkt, son
dern aus intellektueller Konsequenz, in spielerischer Absicht, aus
gleichsam enttuschter Moralitt. Immer wieder wendet auch Wilde das
Schema an: Jemand wird im Gesprch zunchst, wie etwa Robert
Chiltern in The Ideal Husband, als ein Muster der Integritt und Mio
dell feinen Geistes und humaner Gesittung aufgebaut; und wie neben
bei tropfen Gerchte ber dunkle Machenschaften und vage Informa
tionen ber frhere Verfehlungen in die ziselierten Komplimente. Be
wunderter und Bewunderer sind gleichermaen dcouvriert.
Die Paradoxie entspringt dabei aus der Umkehrung von Idealitt und
Realitt, indem das Ungengen des einen am anderen gemessen als
das idealiter Gesetzmige definiert w i r d , ohne da dies eines Restes
 214

von Plausibilitt entbehrte. Das Ideale i s t f a l s c h , das Reale i s t w a h r ;

Kriterium der Wahrheit aber i s t das I d e a l e , das m i t h i n g n i c h t falsch
sein k a n n ; also ist das Ideale w a h r und nicht wahr. A u c h die Anti
Norm h a t eine Norm zum M o d e l l , die sich v o n f a k t i s c h g e l t e n d e r Norm
freilich unterscheidet. Das logische Spiel - etwa in dem Satz: "It
t a k e s a t h o r o u g h l y s e l f i s c h a g e , l i k e o u r o w n , to d e i f y s e l f - s a c r i -
69
fice" - v e r w e i s t auf p s y c h o - l o g i s c h e E r k e n n t n i s . " I t e l l y o u t h a t
t h e r e a r e t e r r i b l e t e m p t a t i o n s t h a t i t r e q u i r e s s t r e n g t h , s t r e n g t h and
courage, to yield t o " : Die Maxime " b e s t r o n g e n o u g h n o t t o y i e l d t o
a temptation" wird umgekehrt u n d b l e i b t g l e i c h w o h l mit u n s e r e r All
tagsevidenz vereinbar. "The reason we all like to t h i n k so well of
o t h e r s is t h a t we are all a f r a i d f o r o u r s e l v e s . T h e basis of optimism
is sheer terror", behauptet Lord Henry und belegt es d u r c h das
Argument: "We think that we are generous because we c r e d i t our
n e i g h b o u r w i t h t h e possession of t h o s e v i r t u e s t h a t a r e l i k e l y t o be a
71
b e n e f i t to u s " . In d e r p s e u d o - l o g i s c h e n Sentenz v e r b i r g t sich die
psychologische Scharfsicht: "What nonsense people t a l k a b o u t happy
marriages. A man can be h a p p y w i t h a n y woman as long as he does
72
not love h e r " . Die G l e i c h s e t z u n g v o n ' h a p p i n e s s ' u n d Harmonie als
spannungsfreier Problemlosigkeit erst macht den Satz plausibel und
f r a g t z u g l e i c h nach dem Ziel u n s e r e r W n s c h e , wenn das W n s c h b a r e
e i n f a c h h i n zu wollen sich als zu s c h l i c h t e r w e i s t : "In this world there
are only two t r a g e d i e s . One is n o t g e t t i n g w h a t one w a n t s , and the
other is g e t t i n g i t . T h e last is much t h e w o r s t , t h e last is real
73
tragedy" . S i m p l i z i t t als R e f u g i u m u n d F l u c h t p u n k t des komplexen
animal rationale? "I adore simple pleasures", bekennt Lord Henry.
" T h e y a r e t h e last r e f u g e of t h e complex [...] Man is many things,
74
b u t he is n o t r a t i o n a l "

Man mu die Begriffe, die in so b e r r a s c h e n d e n Collocationen und

Kombinationen v e r k n p f t sind, in i h r e konnotativen Bestandteile zer
legen, um i h r e semantische K o m p a t i b i l i t t zu r e c h t f e r t i g e n . Die Stze
" T o t h e w i c k e d n e s s of t h e Papacy h u m a n i t y owes m u c h . T h e goodness
of t h e Papacy owes a t e r r i b l e d e b t t o h u m a n i t y " bestechen weniger
durch die Idiosynkrasie des Ergebnisses moralphilosophischer Re-
 215

flexion als d u r c h die k u l t u r h i s t o r i s c h ja zu belegende T a t s a c h e , da

k u n s t s i n n i g e h u m a n i t a s u n d r e l i g i s e S t r e n g e , U n e r s c h t t e r l i c h k e i t im
Glauben und wissenschaftlich-analytische Aufgeschlossenheit in der
Papstgeschichte kaum je in e i n e r selben Person v e r e i n t w a r e n . Werden
die Wildeschen Sentenzen n i c h t formgem als axiomatische Gesetze g e
lesen, sondern nhaltsgem als rhetorische Radikalisierung statisti
scher Probabilitt, e r w e i s e n sie sich o f t als a n a l y t i s c h p r z i s u n d l o
gisch korrekt.

Das rhetorische Repertoire ist dem s t r a t e g i s c h e n Spiel d u r c h a u s ge

m. H y p e r b e l n v e r s e h e n das M g l i c h e , v i e l l e i c h t W a h r s c h e i n l i c h e , mit
dem Schein allgemeiner Geltung: "All women become like their
76
mothers. That's their tragedy. No man d o e s . T h a t ' s h i s " . Die laco
nica b r e v i t a s v e r s c h w e i t noch das H e t e r o g e n s t e in b l e n d e n d e r Anti
t h e s e o d e r knappem E p i g r a m m , in s t r z e n d e r Klimax o d e r verschrnk
tem Chiasmus. Im oxymoron und paronomastischer Aktualisierung
b l i t z t d e r neue Gedanke a u f ; aus d e r c o n t r a d i c t i o in a d i e c t u z i e h t d e r
D a n d y semantisches P o t e n t i a l : "She had t h a t uncommon t h i n g called
common sense" u n d " D o r i a n is f a r too wise n o t do f o o l i s h t h i n g s
78
now and t h e n " u n d "Women a r e a d e c o r a t i v e s e x . T h e y n e v e r have
79
a n y t h i n g t o s a y , b u t t h e y say i t c h a r m i n g l y "

Wortspiele wie die mit 'lose' in L a d y W i n d e r m e r e ' s Fan ( " N o w Tuppy,

you've lost your figure and you've
lost y o u r c h a r a c t e r . D o n ' t lose
80
y o u r t e m p e r ; y o u have o n l y g o t o n e " ) o d e r mit ' d u t y ' in T h e I m
p o r t a n c e of B e i n g E a r n e s t ("What between t h e d u t i e s e x p e c t e d of one
after one's d e a t h , land has ceased t o be e i t h e r a p r o f i t o r a p l e a s -
81
ure" ) , das Spiel mit d e r Homophonie ( E r n e s t / E a r n e s t ) , d i e p a r a
d o x a l e V e r f r e m d u n g s t e r e o t y p e r R e d e n s a r t e n ( " D i v o r c e s a r e made in
82 83
Heaven" , "The truth is rarely pure and never simple" ), die
aphoristische Sentenz ("The very essence of romance is uncertain-
85

ty" , "in married life t h r e e is company and two is none" ), die

wrtlich genommenen Metaphern und der metaphorisierte Literalsinn
(Lady Bracknell, als sie hrt, Algernons 'Bunburying' sei 'quite
exploded': " E x p l o d e d ! Was he t h e v i c t i m of a r e v o l u t i o n a r y o u t r a g e ? I
was n o t aware t h a t M r . Bunbury was i n t e r e s t e d in social legislation.
 216

86

If so, he is well punished for his morbidity" ) - die rhetorischen

Varianten (und die Liste der Beispiele liee sich ad infinitum f o r t
setzen) sind Ausdruck der zugrunde liegenden paradoxalen Strategie,
sie stehen im Dienste formaler Przision und Pointierung bei inhaltli
cher Brechung und Unterhhlung akzeptierter Maximen und bequemen
Einvernehmens; eine Strategie, wie sie seit La Rochefoucaulds Maximes
et Rflexions f r Perioden des Umbruchs und des bergangs charak
teristisch ist, die durch intellektuelles Vergngen an sprachlichem
Spiel und satirischem choc gekennzeichnet sind. Eine resignierte
87
society, die das 'fin de sicle' zum 'fin du globe' hypostasiert, um
sich von ihrem eigenen Abgang abzulenken und den Esprit ihrer
conversations in den Salons der Belgravia als Contenance zu zelebrie
ren.

In seiner 'metallischen' Epigrammatik hnelt Wilde Congreve eher als

Sheridan, mit dem ihn oft Situationskomik und Charakterzeichnung
verbindet. Die mock-serious conversation, die paradoxale Argumen
tation von provokativem Witz, charakterisiert den small talk einer
Klasse, die den brgerlichen Wilde fasziniert und die ihn in ihren
88
Reihen duldete, solange er sie als "admirable narrator" , "talking in
89
perfect sentences" , amusierte und ihnen seinen satirischen Spiegel
vorhielt, ohne die eng gezogenen Grenzen konservativer 'respectabil
i t y " zu berschreiten. "To get into the best society, one has to feed
people, amuse people, or shock people - that is a l l " , sagt Lord I I -
90
lingworth in einem Bonmot . Der Witz des Narren ist zugelassen
- solange er noch 'cynical smiles' erzeugt; seine Lizenz gert in Ge
f a h r , wenn, wie Meredith schreibt, "you detect the ridicule, and your
91
kindliness is chilled by it . . . " ; sie luft ab, wenn der Ernst seines
Spottes dem Verspotteten die Ausflucht ins Lachen verstellt.

5. Die konservative Inquisition. Paradoxie als Vehikel konversationel

ler Karikatur

W.H. Auden nannte The Importance of Being Earnest "a verbal ope-
92
ra" . Und ganz gewi dient die frivole Leichtigkeit der Dialogfh-
 217

rung zunchst dem theatralischen Effekt, der den Erfolg der Social
Comedies Wildes auf des Bhne v e r b r g t . Gleichwohl enthllt etwa
- um ein so berhmtes wie brilliantes Beispiel herauszugreifen, das
inquisitorische Interview der Lady Bracknell, diesem Wildeschen Ge
genstck zur Lady Candour Sheridans und Karikatur des "old vic
t o r i a n " , viel von dem satirischen Blick des Dandy auf die etablierte
93
society und ihre class standards .

Lady Bracknell beginnt ihr Verhr des Heiratskandidaten Jack (=

Ernest), den sie in ihre "list of eligible young men" einzutragen be
reit ist, sofern seine "answers be what a really affectionate mother
requires", mit der diesbezglich zentralen Frage "Do you smoke?".
Auf das zgernd-besorgte Bekenntnis Jacks die wieder vllig uner
wartete Antwort "I am glad to hear i t " mit der paradoxen Begrndung
"A man should always have an occupation of some k i n d . There are far
too many idle men in London as it i s " . Die Schrfe dieser Satire wird
erst vor dem historischen Hintergrund deutlich. Die Bedingung ihrer
sarkastischen Wirkung beim zeitgenssischen Publikum ist der Gegen
satz zwischen der hier karikierten "idle society" und den "low or
ders", die Wilde zu beschreiben sich in Kenntnis seiner Grenzen
wohlweislich enthielt.

Wie Hellas, seine Muse und Mue, auf der Haussklaverei beruhte und
das Bild vom gehobenen, f r e i e n , nicht banausischen Menschen Un-
hast, adelige Gelassenheit voraussetzte, so konnten Oxfordgentlemen,
das Rote Haus des groen Morris und seine Keimscottpress, konnte
die ganze Pflege der schnen Dinge nur in einem reichen Land ent
stehen, will sagen in einem des heftigsten Gegensatzes zwischen einer
auf ihren Gtern lebenden Oberschicht und den Massen, die in den
Bros der City ihre Tage absitzen, in den Slums verkommen, unter
dem grauen Fabrik- und Nebelhimmel nie des Gefhls teilhaftig wer
den, ein Recht, Griechen zu sein, htten auch sie. [94]

Das viktorianische England war reich; aber der Reichtum war viel
krasser als heute auf bestimmte soziale Schichten beschrnkt. Nie z u
vor hatte es in so kurzer Zeit einen solchen industriellen und wissen
schaftlichen Fortschritt, eine so atemberaubende Wissensexplosion ge
geben - und dies weitgehend unabhngig von den traditionellen T r
gern klassischer Bildung und ererbten Besitzes. Die den Lehren der
 218

Kirche widersprechenden Erkenntnisse der Naturwissenschaften hatten

das f e s t g e f g t e v i k t o r i a n i s c h - p u r i t a n i s c h e Weltbild empfindlich getrof
fen. S i c h e r h e i t u n d S t a b i l i t t h a t t e n noch bis v o r k u r z e m das System
gekennzeichnet, u n d " d e s p i t e of h i s belief i n p r o g r e s s , t h e o l d Vic
t o r i a n had been a man of s e t t l e d c o n v i c t i o n s , of r i g i d moral S t a n d a r d s ,
95
o f a social s t a t u s more o r less d e t e r m i n e d "

Auch Lady Bracknell hat sich die aristokratische cock-sureness be

wahrt, von der bereits die Rede war (s.o. Abs.2), unbekmmert
darum, da sich diese S i c h e r h e i t sowohl konomisch als auch s o z i a l ,
96
und also politisch, immer w e n i g e r r e c h t f e r t i g e n lie . Wissen u n d
Erziehung g e l t e n als p e d a n t i s c h und sind der L a d y eher verdchtig;
d i e g e p f l e g t e H a l b b i l d u n g dagegen i s t B e d i n g u n g g e i s t v o l l e r Konversa
tion und Garant ihrer Unangefochtenheit: " F o r t u n a t e l y in E n g l a n d , at
any r a t e , e d u c a t i o n p r o d u c e s no e f f e c t w h a t s o e v e r . If i t d i d , i t w o u l d
97
p r o v e a s e r i o u s d a n g e r t o t h e u p p e r classes" . A u f die V e r s i c h e r u n g
J a c k s , da er sein Vermgen v o r z u g s w e i s e n i c h t in G r u n d b e s i t z , son
dern "in investments" angelegt habe, uert sie s i c h t i e f befriedigt
u n d f g t das oben z i t i e r t e W o r t s p i e l h i n z u : "What between t h e d u t i e s
e x p e c t e d of one d u r i n g one's lifetime and t h e d u t i e s e x a c t e d f r o m one
a f t e r one's d e a t h , land has ceased t o be e i t h e r a p r o f i t o r a p l e a s u r e .
98
I t g i v e s one p o s i t i o n , and p r e v e n t s one f r o m k e e p i n g i t u p "

Der individuelle Firmenchef als viktorianischer pater familias ber

schaubarer Unternehmen war durch Aktiengesellschaften und GmbHs
abgelst worden, die von Spezialisten gefhrt wurden. Das 'land'
hatte aufgehrt, die Haupteinnahmequelle des Adels zu sein, man
setzte auf mehrere Pferde, hatte mehrheitliche Aktienpakete von Ge
sellschaften, um d e r e n L e i t u n g sich p r o f e s s i o n e l l e b u s i n e s s men k m
m e r t e n ; d a d u r c h g e w a n n man Zeit f r anderes.

Da Jack ein c o u n t r y house " w i t h some l a n d , of c o u r s e , attached to

it" besitzt, i s t in diesen Kreisen s e l b s t v e r s t n d l i c h . Die Aristokratie
regierte noch auf den groen estates und gab den Ton an in der
Londoner Gesellschaft. Wirtschaftliche R c k s c h l g e seit den 70er J a h
r e n h a t t e n j e d o c h d e n 'Namen' in s e i n e r Bedeutung h i n t e r den f i n a n -
 219

ziellen Sicherheiten zurcktreten lassen. Die nouveaux riches d u r c h

brachen die Exklusivitt der Londoner Zirkel und bereiteten Dandies
und Snobs den Boden, die einander in der perfekten Kopie des bla
sierten Originals zu bertreffen suchten. Die Nuancen gewinnen jetzt
an Bedeutung, wie zum Beispiel die im Hinblick auf die fashionable-
ness hchst relevante Frage Lady Bracknells, auf welcher Seite von
Belgrave Square man wohne.

Auch ihre nchste Frage nach der politischen Position Jacks erhlt
durch den Bezug auf die konkreten Bedingungen der Gladstone-ra
zustzlichen Reiz:

LADY BRACKNELL: [ . . . ] What are your politics?

JACK: Well, I am afraid I really have none. I am a Liberal Unionist.
LADY BRACKNELL: Oh, they count as Tories. They dine with us. Or
come in the evening at any rate. You have, of course, no sympathy
of any kind with the Radical Party?" [99]

Die wachsende Popularitt sozialistischer Theorien wurde mitrauisch

verfolgt. Die Fortsetzung der Sozialgesetzgebung Lord Shaftesburys
erschien als berflssige Konzession. Die Oxforder Philosophenschule
um .. Green, die die Abhngigkeit des Individuums von der Ge
meinschaft programmatisch formuliert hatte, gewann an A t t r a k t i v i t t in
intellektuellen Kreisen; Carlyle g r i f f die Orthodoxie des laisser faire
an; Matthew Arnold forderte den Staat als Organ der "rechten Ver
nunft der Gemeinschaft"; die Owenschen Trade Unions etablierten
sich; Ruskin t r a t f r eine A r t aristokratischen Sozialismus ein, den
Wilde in seinem Essay Soul of Man under Socialism in einen stheti-
zistischen Salon-Sozialismus uminterpretierte, der dem Dandy als
theoretische Basis seiner ambivalenten Position als Teil und Kritiker
jener Gesellschaft fungieren kann, die er zugleich ebenso radikal in
Frage stellt wie sie ihm Existenzgrund ist, ohne den er, wie ein Fisch
auf dem Trockenen, zum Verstummen verdammt scheint: "Society is a
necessary t h i n g " dmpft Lord lllingworth Geralds berschwang: "To
be in it is merely a bore. But to be out of it simply a tragedy"
Und Mabel Chiltern's Sympathie f r die Londoner Gesellschaft ist von
paradoxer Intensitt: " O h , I love London Society! I think it has im
mensely improved. It is entirely composed now of brilliant lunatics.
 220

101
Just what Society should be" . Freilich: " I f there was less sympathy
in the world there would be less trouble in the w o r l d " . Lord Gorings
Vater kommt da nicht mit: "That is a paradox, sir, I hate para
doxes". Lord Goring: "So do I, father. Everybody one meets is a
paradox nowadays. It is a great bore. It makes society so ob-
102
vious" . -

6. Dandy, Camp und fin du globe

"Der Dandysm ist ein Sonnenuntergang; gleich dem Gestirne, das zur
Rste geht, ist er erhaben, ohne Wrme und voll Melancholie",
103
schreibt Charles Baudelaire und charakterisiert den Dandy damit
genauer als die Lexika, die - uneins, ob sich das Wort von einem
englischen Volksreim "Jack-a-Dandy" aus dem Jahre 1659 herschreibe,
oder vielleicht griechischen Ursprungs sei und sich von der Koseform
des Vornamens Andreas ableiten lasse - im uerlichsten verharren
und sich damit bescheiden, auf die modische Eleganz seiner Erschei-
104
nung zu verweisen . Der oberflchlich-illiberale Spott ber die
Cortegiani oder Raffins, die Incroyables, Muscadins oder Beaux, die
Bucks, Exquisites oder Swells, die Stutzer, Dandies, Mods, Camps
und Popper als bloe Papageien jeweiliger Mode-Diktate wchst auf
dem Boden eines utilitaristisch-normativen Verstndnisses geistiger
Unabhngigkeit, das der seismographisch-przisen Reaktion des Dan
dyismus auf das "Oszillieren zwischen den Werten" in Zeiten des
bergangs oder des Untergangs kaum gerecht zu werden vermag.
"Nicht unmittelbar Ausdruck seiner Zeit, sondern gegen sie wach-
105
send" , steht der Dandy "seiner Rolle gem in der Opposition",
analysiert Albert Camus, "er bewahrt sich selbst nur in der Her-
..106
ausforderung"
In der festen berzeugung, da die Menschheit " sa dernire heure"
107
angekommen sei, wie Jules Amede Barbey d'Aurevilly befrchtete ,
der als einer der ersten am Beispiel George Bryan Brummels die enge
Verflochtenheit des Dandyismus mit Zeitgeist und - k r i t i k herausprpa-
 221

riert hat, baut sich der Dandy aus sthetischem Formwillen und
stoischer Disziplin, aus melancholischem air froid und ironischem culte
de soi-mme, Barrikaden gegen die Depression. Im fin de sicle kon
zentriert sich diese Atmosphre von angewidertem Individualismus und
verzweifelter Expressivitt, die mit trotzigem Protest gegen Trivialitt
und Heuchelei mehr zu tun hat als mit Lust und Laune und tndeln
dem Sich-Selbst-Genugsein, eine Atmosphre, in der ber Verlaines
"Je suis l'Europe la fin de la dcadence" so bemerkenswerte Er
scheinungen angetreten sind wie Pater und Swinburne, Whistler und
Wagner, Huysmans, O'Shoughnessy, Gautier, Symons, Le Gallienne,
John Gray, Lionel Johnson, Ernest Dowson, Aubrey Beardsley, Max
Beerbohm und Marcel Schwob, auch Flaubert, Gourmont, Rimbaud,
Dumas Fils, Augier, Feuillet, Proust, Stendhal und d'Annunzio. Und
es ist gewi kein Zufall, da deutsche Namen in dieser Liste f e h -
. 108
len

Wieder einmal waren die Generationen 'noch nie' so getrennt wie in

dieser Epoche, waren die Jungen 'so jung' und die Alten 'so alt'; man
109
beschwerte sich, wie D.H. Gretton berliefert , ber "the aggres
sive intolerance of the younger generation with their long hair", man
hatte mit Ernest Dowson "hunger for new experience", das pater je
bourgeois wurde zur "fine art of shocking" erhoben. Gegen den
Paroxysmus politischen Wahns stemmte sich noch eine kleine Weile das
nil admirari der uersten Selbstdisziplin vermeintlich stoisch Gelas
sener.
"Optimismus - was ist das?" fragte Cacambo.
" A c h " , sagte Candide, "das ist die Sucht, zu behaupten, es sei alles
in Ordnung, wenn's einem elend geht". [110]

Voltaires Definition verbindet den Dandy mit dem Bohmien und - den
Punk mit dem Popper: die Desillusion angesichts einer gesellschaftli
chen Entwicklung, die vor ihrer pragmatischen Effizienz und ihrem
ziellosen Utilitarismus nicht zu retten sei. Und wie der Dandy durch
die Paradoxie seines Stils und die Strenge seiner Form der Angst vor
Isolation und Niedergang entgegenzuwirken suchte, so schtzt sich
der heutige Camp durch Esoterik und Egozentrik und Extravaganz
 222

gegen die Grausamkeit der Mediokritt, gegen die tdliche Indiffe

renz, mit der, aus seiner Sicht, Arbeitslosigkeit und Atomtod und
Ausverkauf der Ressourcen verwaltet und in Statistiken verrechnet
werden.

"Der Camp hat intensiver als andere Menschen den Ri wahrgenom

men, der die Welt zerstckt, die Menschen voneinander isoliert hat.
So fetischisiert er Form und Stil im Angesicht des Schreckens und
111
schtzt sein Selbst, indem er sie benutzt" . In einer Zeit, in der
Fortschritt vielen als Rckschritt und Rckschritt als Fortschritt er
scheint, in der manche im Popper die Vorahnung des Niedergangs der
brgerlichen Klasse sehen, wie der Dandy gegen den Untergang der
Aristokratie protestierte, gewinnt die Behauptung Plausibilitt. Es ist
indes ein Protest ohne Engagement, der Leichtsinn und Sicherheit
paradox in sich vereint. Zum Tanz auf dem Vulkan wird nicht ohne
Rckversicherung aufgespielt. Die morbide Mdigkeit w i r k t kokett, wo
sie der vterlichen Finanziers bedarf. Dandy, Camp oder Popper gar
nieren die Subkultur der Metropolen, solange sie Kredit haben. Ur
banitt und feudaler Luxus mgen seinerzeit, grobrgerliche Behag
lichkeit und Konsumlust heute der Boden dandyesker Attitde sein.
Erst im existentiellen Ausgesetztsein freilich erweist sich ihr frivoler
Bestand.

Knstlertum, wie Wilde es suchte, setzt konservative Ordnungen v o r

aus, feudalistische oder grobrgerliche, denn sie bringen den Reich
tum hervor, der die Mue und den Genu erlaubt. Die Forderungen
des Mitleids und des Ethos entstehen nicht in der oberen Gesell
schaftsschicht, und es hat tiefere Bedeutung, wenn Wilde ihnen erst
begegnete, als seine Klasse ihn von sich stie. [112]

Anmerkungen

* Meinen Freunden und Lehrern in Logik, Rhetorik und praktischem

Dandyismus: Prof. Dr. Eva Cassirer, Ricca Edmondson, PhD
( O x o n . ) , Michael Merschmeier, M.A.
1 Le Gallienne 1951, p.149; cf. Ingleby o . J . , p.350; Hughes/Brecht
1978, p.5.
 223

2 Lthi 1969, pp.469-489.

3 I b i d . , p.469; cf. Max Wehrli, 'Jacob Balde. Zum 300. Todestag des
Dichters', i n : Stimmen der Zeit 182 (1968), pp.157-166; H. Bau
singer, Formen der Volkspoesie, Berlin 1968, bes. p.132 s e q . , 150
seq. et passim.
4 Cf. z . B . Heselhaus 1967, Neumann 1973, Wentner o . J . , Workman
1969, Ihrig 1934, Kenner 1947, Brauer 1976; jedoch: Nth 1980.
5 Workamn 1969, p.709.
6 Exemplarisch sei erinnert an Bolzanos Paradoxien des Unendlichen
(1889), an Watzlawicks 'Paradoxe Kommunikation' (1973, 1976) und
Zieglers K r i t i k am 'paradoxen Mythos' (1977) oder an die material
reiche Begriffsgeschichte des 'Paradoxon' des niederlndischen
Theologen Klaas Schilder (1933).
7 Hess-Lttich/Wrner 1981, pp.135-147.
8 Cf. Quine 1962, p.85; Watzlawicks 'Definition' der Paradoxie (1973,
p.171) ist dagegen selbst paradox (cf. Ziegler 1978, p.98).
9 Cf. Stegmller 1957, p.24.
10 Posner 1977, pp.111 seqq.
11 In seiner philosophischen Autobiographie schreibt Russell hierzu:
"Bei dem Versuch, Cantors Beweis [von der Unmglichkeit einer
grten Kardinalzahl] auf die Anzahl smtlicher Gegenstnde des
Universums anzuwenden, stie ich auf die Klassen, die sich nicht
selbst als Element enthalten, dafr aber [ . . . ] ihrerseits wiederum
eine Klasse bilden muten. Und ich fragte mich n u n , ob diese
Klasse (also die Klasse smtlicher Klassen, die sich nicht selbst als
Element enthalten) sich selbst als Element enthlt oder nicht. Wenn
man annimmt, da sie sich selbst als Element enthlt, mu sie na
t r l i c h der Definition dieser Klassen entsprechen, nach der sie
sich nicht selbst als Element enthalten darf. Und wenn man an
nimmt, da sie sich nicht selbst als Element enthlt, entspricht das
genau der gegebenen Definition, d . h . sie gehrt zu den Klassen,
die sich nicht selbst als Element enthalten, und mu sich folglich
selbst als Element enthalten. Aus beiden Annahmen folgt also zwin
gend das genaue Gegenteil der Annahme; und wie wir uns auch
drehen und wenden, wir kommen aus diesem Widerspruch nicht
heraus" (Russell 1973, p.76).
In den Principia Mathematica haben Whitehead und Russell spter
mit der Einfhrung der logischen Typenehre eine Mglichkeit zur
Auflsung dieser Paradoxie vorgeschlagen (Russell/Whitehead 1910,
pp.61 et passim).
12 "Epimenides der Kreter sagt, da alle Kreter Lgner s i n d " . Die
Paradoxie des Pseudomenon 'Ich lge' (wenn ich lge, sage ich
die Wahrheit, wenn ich die Wahrheit sage, lge ich) lt sich be
kanntlich durch die Theorie der Sprachstufen (Whitehead, Russell,
Carnap, T a r s k i , Quine usw.) bzw. der nach oben offenen semanti
schen Hierarchie von Objekt- und Metasprache(n) auflsen.
 224

13 C f . s t a t t dessen die k o m m e n t i e r t e A n t h o l o g i e v o n H u g h e s / B r e c h t ,
V i c i o u s C i r c l e s and I n f i n i t y . A Panoply of P a r a d o x e s , London 1975
( d t . B r a u n s c h w e i g 1978).
14 Die sich in den Schwanz beiende Schlange ( c f . auch das m a t h e
matische U n e n d l i c h k e i t s z e i c h e n ! ) .
15 C f . C a r r o l l , What t h e T o r t o i s e said to A c h i l l e s ' , i n : i d . 1966,
p p . 1 1 0 4 - 1 1 0 8 ; h i e r z u auch v a n den Boom 1978, p p . 2 5 - 3 3 ; c f . A l a n
R. Whites E n t g e g n u n g a u f Zenon in M i n d , J a n . 1963.
16 S c h n i t z l e r , ' F l u c h t in die F i n s t e r n i s ' , Gesammelte W e r k e , Die e r
zhlenden S c h r i f t e n . V o l . 2 , F r a n k f u r t : Fischer 1961, pp.902-985,
hier zit. p.917.
17 Van den Boom 1978, p.28.
18 C f . J . M o l i n e , 'Aristotle, Eubulides and the Sorites', in: Mind,
J u l i 1969.
19 Zum Problem e i n e r D e f i n i t i o n d e r R a t i o n a l i t t v o n Handeln in D i a
logen als A r g u m e n t a t i o n s h a n d e l n o d e r s i n n h a f t e m V e r h a l t e n cf.
H e s s - L t t i c h 1 9 8 1 , p p . 1 6 8 s e q . u n d nota I I . 2 0 3 .
20 Tom S t o p p a r d , J u m p e r s , L o n d o n : Faber & Faber 1972, p p . 8 6 s e q .
21 Watzlawick et a l . 1973, p . 1 9 6 ; c f . i b i d . p p . 1 7 8 s e q . Z u r A n w e n
d u n g auf L i t e r a t u r c f . i b i d . K a p . 5 , p p . 1 2 8 - 1 7 0 ; z . T . auch Posner
1977. Z u r K r i t i k an Watzlawicks w i s s e n s c h a f t s t h e o r e t i s c h e n M i v e r
s t n d n i s s e n u n d l o g i s c h e n F e h l e r n c f . Z i e g l e r 1978, h i e r b e s . p p .
88-102.
13
22 M. P r o u s t , Les p l a i s i r s et les j o u r s , P a r i s : Gallimard 1924, p p . 1 9
seq.
23 C i c e r o , Paradoxa S t o i c o r u m , e d . G . H . Moser, G t t i n g e n 1846.
24 C f . A. Westermann, Scriptores rerum mirabi-
lium G r a e c i , B r a u n s c h w e i g 1839; G. Z e b i c h , A t h l e t a P a r a d o x o s ,
W i t t e n b e r g 1748, I h r i g 1933, p p . 2 s e q .
25 I. K a n t 1798/1975, Werke v o l . 1 0 , p.410.
26 I b i d .
27 C f . L a u s b e r g 1967, p p . 2 3 s e q . ; c f . zum f o l g e n d e n p p . 3 0 , 3 3 , 6 1 ,
68, 78, 9 0 , 9 4 , 126, 135, 139.
28 Dubois et a l . 1974, p p . 1 9 9 seqq., 206 seqq., 214 seqq., 236
s e q q . ; c f . Plett 1975, p . 2 5 5 .
29 "Es e r s c h i e n eines e r w a c h s e n e n Menschen u n w r d i g , seine Zeit mit
solchen P l a t t h e i t e n zu v e r g e u d e n , aber was sollte ich t u n ? I r g e n d
etwas stimmte n i c h t , w e n n solche W i d e r s p r c h e bei o r d n u n g s g e m
en V o r a u s s e t z u n g e n u n v e r m e i d l i c h w a r e n . P l a t t h e i t h i n o d e r h e r ,
die Sache lie mich n i c h t los. Das ganze zweite H a l b j a h r 1901 nahm
ich a n , die L s u n g w e r d e e i n f a c h s e i n ; doch nach A b l a u f d i e s e r
Zeit w a r ich zu dem S c h l u g e k o m m e n , da es s i c h um eine s c h w e
r e A u f g a b e h a n d l e " [ . . . ] . " D i e Sommermonate d e r J a h r e 1903 u n d
 225

1904 v e r b r a c h t e n w i r in C h u r t u n d T i l f o r d [ . . . ] . Ich gab mir die

g r t e M h e , d i e oben e r w h n t e n W i d e r s p r c h e zu l s e n . Jeden
M o r g e n s e t z t e ich mich v o r ein u n b e s c h r i e b e n e s B l a t t P a p i e r . Den
ganzen T a g b e r , n u r k u r z d u r c h das M i t t a g e s s e n u n t e r b r o c h e n ,
s t i e r t e ich a u f d e n leeren B o g e n . O f t w a r er am A b e n d noch e b e n
so l e e r . Die W i n t e r d i e s e r J a h r e v e r b r a c h t e n w i r in L o n d o n , wo ich
keinen V e r s u c h zu a r b e i t e n u n t e r n a h m ; die beiden Sommer 1903
u n d 1904 h a f t e n j e d o c h in meinem G e d c h t n i s als Z e i t s p a n n e n v o l l
kommenen g e i s t i g e n S t i l l s t a n d s " ( R u s s e l l 1972 v o l . l , p p . 2 2 7 u . 233
seq.).
30 A . B r e t o n , Manifestes d u S u r r a l i s m e , Paris: P a u v e r t 1962, p.27;
z i t . n . Dubois et a l . 1974, p . 2 1 5 .
31 D e Q u i n c e y , A u t o b i o g r a p h y , z i t . . Plett 1975, p.255.
32 . W i l d e , Complete W o r k s , p.43.
33 Z i t . . Jackson 1923, p.108.
34 C f . Somervell 1946, p.339.
35 C f . W i n g f i e l d - S t r a t f o r d 1930, i d . 1932; T r e v e l y a n 1952, i d . 1958.
36 M. A r n o l d , C u l t u r e and A n a r c h y ( 1 9 6 9 ) ; i d . , F r i e n d s h i p ' s Garland
( 1 8 7 1 ) ; c f . W i n g f i e l d - S t r a t f o r d 1930, p . 1141.
37 1889 w u r d e T h e Doll's House u r a u f g e f h r t ; 1893 liefen in London
b e r e i t s sechs S t c k e Ibsens g l e i c h z e i t i g !
38 A r t h u r S y m o n s , ' T h e Decadent Movement in L i t e r a t u r e ' , in: Lon
don Q u a r t e r l y Review 129 ( J a n . 1918), p p . 8 9 - 1 0 3 .
39 Die S t i c h w o r t e sollen ein komplexes B e z i e h u n g s g e f g e z w i s c h e n den
soziokonomischen u n d g e i s t e s g e s c h i c h t l i c h e n U m b r c h e n des S p t -
viktorianismus a s s o z i i e r e n , zu dessen angemessener Darstellung
h i e r n i c h t d e r Raum i s t , dessen B e w u t h e i t uns aber gegen den
V o r w u r f der K o n t e x t a b s t r a k t h e i t u n s e r e r A r g u m e n t a t i o n f e i e n s o l l ,
d e r gegen g r o e T e i l e der t r a d i t i o n e l l e n W i l d e - P h i l o l o g i e gewi zu
Recht e r h o b e n w i r d . Im L i t e r a t u r v e r z e i c h n i s s i n d d e s h a l b e i n s c h l
g i g e Hinweise b e i g e f g t , die z u r O r i e n t i e r u n g b e r den g e s c h i c h t
lichen ' b a c k g r o u n d ' dienen mgen.
40 Jerome B u c k l e y , ' T h e F o u r t h Dimension of V i c t o r i a n i s m ' , in: The
V i c t o r i a n N e w s l e t t e r 21 ( 1 9 6 2 ) , p . 3 .
41 John B u c h a n , 'Memory H o l d - T h e - D o o r ' , z i t . . T r e v e l y a n 1952 ( =
Social H i s t o r y I V ) , p . 1 0 2 . C f . ' A n Ideal H u s b a n d ' , W o r k s , p . 5 1 5 .
42 Wilde, ' L a d y W i n d e r m e r e ' s F a n ' , W o r k s , p . 4 2 3 ; c f . ' D o r i a n G r a y ' ,
W o r k s , p . 112: " S o c i e t y , c i v i l i z e d s o c i e t y at l e a s t , [ . . . ] feels i n
s t i n c t i v e l y , t h a t m a n n e r s are of more i m p o r t a n c e t h a n m o r a l s , and
[...] t h e h i g h e s t r e s p e c t a b i l i t y is of much less v a l u e t h a n t h e
possession of a good c h e f " .
43 ' L a d y W i n d e r m e r e ' s F a n ' , W o r k s , p.425.
44 I b i d .
 226

45 'A Woman of No Importance', Works, p.464; cf. 'Dorian Gray',

Works, p.138.
46 I b i d . , p.464.
47 I b i d . , p.437.
48 ' T h e I m p o r t a n c e of B e i n g E a r n e s t ' , W o r k s , p . 3 7 1 ; c f . ' P h r a s e s ' ,
W o r k s , p . 1205: " I n all u n i m p o r t a n t m a t t e r s , s t y l e , n o t s i n c e r i t y , is
t h e e s s e n t i a l . In all i m p o r t a n t m a t t e r s , s t y l e , n o t s i n c e r i t y , is t h e
essential".
49 ' D o r i a n G r a y ' , W o r k s , p.50.
50 I b i d .
51 I b i d . , p.32 b z w . 162.
52 ' L a d y W i n d e r m e r e ' s F a n ' , W o r k s , p.400.
53 ' D o r i a n G r a y ' , W o r k s , p.32.
54 I b i d . , p . 3 2 ; c f . 'A Woman of No I m p o r t a n c e ' , W o r k s , p.458.
55 ' T h e I m p o r t a n c e of B e i n g E a r n e s t ' , W o r k s , p.335.
56 ' L a d y W i n d e r m e r e ' s F a n ' , W o r k s , p.416.
57 'A Woman of No I m p o r t a n c e ' , W o r k s , p.441.
58 ' D o r i a n G r a y ' , W o r k s , p.66.
59 I b i d . , p . 4 8 ; c f . 'A Woman of No I m p o r t a n c e ' , W o r k s , p p . 4 6 0 s e q .
60 Zu den E i n f l s s e n v o n Dumas Fils auf Oscar Wilde c f . Schn 1949,
bes. pp.120 seqq.
61 ' D o r i a n G r a y ' , W o r k s , p.160.
62 Zu den v e r s c h i e d e n e n l i t e r a r i s c h e n S t r m u n g e n im Werke Wildes c f .
S c h i r m a n n 1933, h i e r z i t . p . 1 0 3 .
63 'A Woman of No Importance', Works, p.459. Wingfield-Stratford
1932, p . 3 0 2 .
64 ' D o r i a n G r a y ' , W o r k s , p . 4 4 , u . 'A Woman of No I m p o r t a n c e ' ,
W o r k s , p . 4 3 7 . C f . 'Ideal H u s b a n d ' , W o r k s , p . 5 1 7 : " L A D Y C H I L -
T E R N : B u t I am v e r y i n t e r e s t e d in p o l i t i c s , Lady M a r k b y . I love
t o hear R o b e r t t a l k a b o u t t h e m .
L A D Y M A R K B Y : Well I hope he is n o t as d e v o t e d t o B l u e Books as
S i r John i s . I d o n ' t t h i n k t h e y can be q u i t e i m p r o v i n g r e a d i n g f o r
any one.
MRS. C H E V E R L E Y , l a n g u i d l y : I have n e v e r read a B l u e B o o k . I
p r e f e r books . . . in yellow c o v e r s " .
65 ' D o r i a n G r a y ' , W o r k s , p.44.
66 I b i d .
67 I b i d .
68 ' D o r i a n G r a y ' , W o r k s , p.69.
 227

69 'Ideal H u s b a n d ' , W o r k s , p.548.

70 I b i d . , p . 5 0 6 ; c f . ' D o r i a n G r a y ' , W o r k s , p . 2 9 : " T h e o n l y way t o
g e t r i d of a t e m p t a t i o n is t o y i e l d t o i t " ; o d e r ' L a d y W i n d e r m e r e ' s
F a n ' , p . 3 8 8 : " I can r e s i s t e v e r y t h i n g e x c e p t t e m p t a t i o n " . C f . 'A
Woman of No I m p o r t a n c e ' , W o r k s , p . 4 6 4 .
71 ' D o r i a n G r a y ' , W o r k s , p.67.
72 I b i d . , p.137.
73 ' L a d y W i n d e r m e r e ' s F a n ' , W o r k s , p.417.
74 ' D o r i a n G r a y ' , Works, p.36. Cf. 'A Woman of No Importance',
Works, p.443.
75 Soul of M a n ' , W o r k s , p.1099.
76 ' T h e I m p o r t a n c e of B e i n g E a r n e s t ' , W o r k s , p.335.
77 ' L a d y W i n d e r m e r e ' s F a n ' , W o r k s , p.406.
78 ' D o r i a n G r a y ' , W o r k s , p.32.
79 I b i d . , p.48 ( c f . 'Soul of M a n ' , W o r k s , p . 1 0 9 4 : "[...] t h e House of
Commons has n o t h i n g t o say a n d says i t " ) .
80 ' L a d y W i n d e r m e r e ' s F a n ' , W o r k s , p.415.
81 ' T h e I m p o r t a n c e of B e i n g E a r n e s t ' , W o r k s , p.332.
82 I b i d . , p.323.
83 I b i d . , p.326.
84 I b i d .
85 I b i d . , p.327.
86 I b i d . , p.372.
87 ' D o r i a n G r a y ' , W o r k s , p.137.
88 A n d r G i d e , ' I n Memoriam', in: Ellmann ( e d . ) 1969, p p . 2 5 - 3 4 , zit.
p.25.
89 William B u t l e r Y e a t s , ' T h e T r e m b l i n g of t h e V e i l ' , i n : i d . , Auto
b i o g r a p h y , New Y o r k / L o n d o n 1916, p p . 7 9 - 8 5 , z i t . p . 7 9 .
90 'A Woman of No I m p o r t a n c e ' , W o r k s , p.460.
91 George M e r e d i t h , ' A n Essay on Comedy', in: W. Sypher (ed.),
C o m e d y , New Y o r k 1956, p . 1 3 3 .
92 C f . W . H . A u d e n , 'An Improbable Life', in: Ellmann (ed.) 1969,
pp.116-137.
93 ' T h e I m p o r t a n c e of B e i n g E a r n e s t ' , W o r k s , p p . 3 3 2 - 3 3 4 . Die f o l g e n
d e n Z i t a t e entstammen diesem D i a l o g , dessen B e k a n n t h e i t sein v o l l
stndiges Zitat vielleicht entbehrlich macht.
94 Flake 1946, p.13.
95 W i n g f i e l d - S t r a t f o r d 1932, p . 158.
 228

96 C f . T r e v e l y a n 1937, i d . 1958; Somervell 1946.

97 ' T h e I m p o r t a n c e of B e i n g E a r n e s t ' , W o r k s , p . 3 3 2 ; h n l i c h u e r t
s i c h b r i g e n s auch L a d y H u n s t a n t o n in 'A Woman of No I m
portance' .
98 I b i d .
99 I b i d . , p.333.
100 I b i d . , p.460.
101 ' A n Ideal H u s b a n d ' , W o r k s , p.484.
102 I b i d . , p.525.
103 C h a r l e s B a u d e l a i r e , ' D e r D a n d y ' , in: H.J. Schickedanz (ed.)
1980, p p . 1 0 5 - 1 0 8 , z i t . p . 1 0 8 .
104 "Man u n d u l y d e v o t e d t o smartness e s p e c i a l l y of c l o t h e s " u r t e i l t
etwa das O x f o r d E n g l i s h D i c t i o n a r y ebenso s t r e n g wie v e r s t n d
nislos.
105 . Mann 1962, z i t . n . S c h i c k e d a n z 1980, p.17.
106 I b i d . , p.14.
107 Z i t . . Praz 1 9 5 1 , p . 3 8 1 .
108 I n w i e w e i t es in d e r d e u t s c h e n L i t e r a t u r d a n d y i s t i s c h e Zge - etwa
bei N i e t z s c h e , George o d e r J n g e r - g i b t , w r e e i n e r eigenen
Untersuchung wert. I s t es v o r e i l i g o d e r s y m p t o m a t i s c h , w e n n
S c h i c k e d a n z (1980, p . 8 ) in seinem Essay s c h r e i b t : "Man f a h n d e t
in d e r d e u t s c h e n L i t e r a t u r v e r g e b l i c h nach E r s c h e i n u n g e n o d e r
Individuen, die dem D a n d y i s m u s B a l z a c s , B a r b e y s , Mrimes,
S t e n d h a l s , B a u d e l a i r e s o d e r Huysmans b z w . W a i n e w r i g h t s , D i s -
r e a l i s o d e r Oscar Wildes h n e l n . [ . . . ] Der d e u t s c h s p r a c h i g e Raum
h a t n u r w e n i g e b e r h m t e Dandies h e r v o r g e b r a c h t , die wie B r u m
mel o d e r W i l d e , i n t e r n a t i o n a l e B e d e u t u n g e r l a n g t e n . H e r v o r z u
heben s i n d l e d i g l i c h G r a f B r h l , F r s t K a u n i t z , M e t t e r n i c h , F r s t
von Pckler-Muskau, Ferdinand Lasalle u n d Ludwig II von
Bayern."
109 Z i t . . Jackson 1923, p.53.
110 V o l t a i r e , C a n d i d e ou l ' O p t i m i s m e , d t . A u s g . H a m b u t g 1957, p.64.
111 S c h i c k e d a n z 1980, p.27.
112 Flake 1946, p.83.
 229

Literaturhinweise

1. Textgrundlage

Wilde, . [1968]
Complete Works, ed. J.B. Foreman, London/Glasgow: Collins
( 1 1948).

11. Zur Paradoxie

Bolzano, . 1889
Paradoxien des Unendlichen ( B e r l i n : Mayer & Mller).
Boom, H. v . d . 1978
'Paradoxes Argumentieren', DU 3 0 . 1 , pp.25-33.
Breuer, R. 1976
Die Kunst der Paradoxie. Sinnsuche und Scheitern bei Samuel
Beckett (Mnchen: F i n k ) .
Carroll, L. 1966
The Complete Works (London: The Nonesuch Press)
Cicero 1846.
Paradoxa Stoicorum, ( e d . ) G.H. Moser (Gttingen).
Dubois, J . et al. 1974
Allgemeine Rhetorik (Mnchen: Fink).
Heselhaus, 1967
'Das Kleistische Paradox' ( i n ) Kleists Aufsatz ber das Marionet
tentheater, Studien und Interpretationen ( B e r l i n ) , pp.112-131.
Hess-Lttich, E.W.B. / M. Wrner 1981
'Konsens und Kontroverse, Plausibilitt und Partei - Zum Ver
hltnis von Argumentationstheorie und Argumentationspraxis in
der Rhetorik', i n : J . Dyck et al. ( e d s . ) , Rhetorik 2, pp.135-
147.
Hughes, P. / G. Brecht 1978
Die Scheinwelt des Paradoxons (Braunschweig: Vieweg).
I h r i g , E. 1934
Das Paradoxon bei Oscar Wilde ( D i s s . p h i l . Marburg).
Kant, I. 1798/1975
Werke (Darmstadt: Wiss. Buchges.).
Kenner, H. 1947
Paradox in Chesterton (New Y o r k ) .
Lausberg, H. 31967
Elemente der literarischen Rhetorik (Mnchen: Hueber).
 230

L t h i , M. 1969
'Das Paradox in der Volksdichtung' ( i n ) Typologica Litterarum (=
Festschrift f r Max Wehrli), ( e d . ) S. Sonderegger / A . M . Haas
/ H. Burger ( Z r i c h : A t l a n t i s ) , pp.469-489.
Morellet, A. 1775
Thorie du pardoxe (Amsterdam).
Neumann, G. 1973
'Umkehrung und Ablehnung: Franz Kafkas 'gleitendes Paradox' '
( i n ) H. Politzer ( e d . ) , Franz Kafka (Darmstadt), pp.459-515.
Nth, W. 1980
Literatursemiotische Analysen zu Lewis Carrolls Alice-Bchern (=
KODIKAS Supplement v o l . 5 ) , (Tbingen: N a r r ) .
Plett, H.F. 1975
Textwissenschaft und Textanalyse. Semiotik, Linguistik, Rhetorik
(Heidelberg: Quelle & Meyer).
Posner, R. 1977
'Semiotische Paradoxien in der Sprachverwendung - Am Beispiel
von Sternes Tristram Shandy', i n : R. Posner und H.P. Reinecke
( e d s . ) , Zeichenprozesse. Semiotische Forschung in den Einzelwis
senschaften (Wiesbaden: Athenaion).
Quine, W. v . . 1962
'Paradox', i n : Scientific American 206, pp.84 seq.
Russell, B. / A . N . Whitehead 1910
Principia Mathematica (Cambridge).
Russell, . 1972
Autobiographie, v o l . I ( F r a n k f u r t : Suhrkamp).
Russell, . 1973
Philosophie - Die Entwicklung meines Denkens (Mnchen: Piper).
Schilder, K. 1933
Zur Begriffsgeschichte des 'Paradoxon' ( D i s s . p h i l . Erlangen).
Stegmller, W. 1957
Das Wahrheitsproblem und die Idee der Semantik (Wien: Sprin
ger).
Watzlawick, P. et al. 1973
Menschliche Kommunikation. Formen, Strungen, Paradoxien
(Bern e t c . : Huber).
Watzlawick, P. 1976
Wie wirklich ist die Wirklichkeit? (Mnchen: Piper).
Wentner, J . G . o . J .
Die Paradoxie als Stilelement im Drama Hebbels ( D i s s . p h i l . , T
bingen).
Westermann, A. 1839
Scriptores rerum mirabilium Graeci (Braun
schweig).
 231

Workman, J . D . 1969
'Hofmannsthal's Use of Paradox', The German Quarterly 42.4,
pp.701-717.
Zebich, G.E. 1748
Athleta Paradoxos (Wittenberg).
Ziegler, J . 1977
Kommunikation als paradoxer Mythos. Analyse und K r i t i k der Kom
munikationstheorie Watzlawicks und ihrer didaktischen Verwertung
(Weinheim/Basel: Beltz).

III. Zu Oscar Wilde und seiner Zeit

Auden, W.H. 1963

'An Improbable Life', The New Yorker 39/3.
Beckson, K. 1970
Oscar Wilde. The Critical Heritage (London: Routledge & Kegan
Paul).
Bentley, E. 1946
'The Importance of Being Earnest', i n : E. Bentley, The Play
wright as Thinker (New Y o r k : Reznal & Hitchcock), pp.172-177.
Borges, J . L . 1964
'About Oscar Wilde' ( i n ) J . L . Borges, Other Inquisitons 1937-
1952 ( A u s t i n : Univ. of Texas Press).
Broad, L. 1954
The Friendships and Follies of Oscar Wilde (London: Hutchinson).
Defieber, R. 1934
Oscar Wilde. Der Mann und sein Werk im Spiegel der deutschen
K r i t i k und sein Einflu auf die deutsche Literatur (Diss.phil.,
Heidelberg).
Ebermeyer, E. 1954
Pas ungewhnliche Leben des Oscar Wilde (Bonn: Athenum).
Ellmann, R. ( e d . ) 1969
Oscar Wilde. A Collection of Critical Essays (Prentice Hall).
Flake, O. 1946
Versuch ber Oscar Wilde (Mnchen: Desch).
Funcke, P. 1969
Oscar Wilde in Selbstzeugnissen und Bilddokumenten (Rowohlt:
Reinbek).
Ganz, A. 1960
'The Pivided Self in the Society Comedies of Oscar Wilde', Mo
dern Prama 3 . 1 , pp.16-23.
 232

Geraths, A. 1969
'Oscar Wilde: Lady Windermere's Fan' ( i n ) Dieter Mehl ( H r s g . ) /
Das englische Drama, B d . II (Dsseldorf).
Gide, A. 1949
'In Memoriam' ( i n ) Oscar Wilde, New York: Philosophical L i b r a r y ,
pp.1-17.
Glur, G. 1957
Kunstlehre und Kunstanschauung des Georgekreises und die
sthetik Oscar Wildes (= Sprache und Dichtung, N . F . , Bd.3)
( B e r n : Haupt).
Grabig, L. 1954
Gesellschaftsschilderung und Gesellschaftskritik bei Oscar Wilde
( D i s s . p h i l . , Greifswald: Halle).
Gregor, I. 1966
'Comedy and Oscar Wilde', Sewanee Review 74, 2, pp.501-521.
Hagemann, C. 1925
Oscar Wilde. Sein Leben und sein Werk ( B e r l i n / L e i p z i g ) .
Hall, D. 1968
I Give you Oscar Wilde (London: Mayflower).
Harris, F. 1923
Oscar Wilde. Eine Lebensbeichte ( B e r l i n : Fischer).
Hess-Lttich, E.W.B. 1981
Grundlagen der Dialoglinguistik (= Soziale Interaktion und lite
rarischer Dialog, v o l . l ) , ( B e r l i n : Erich Schmidt).
Hess-Lttich, E.W.B. 1982
'Maxims of Maliciousness. Sheridan's School of Conversation',
Poetics. International Review for the Theory of Literature 11.4-6,
pp.419-437.
Hnnighausen, L. 1971
Prraphaeliten und Fin de Sicle. Symbolistische Tendenzen in
der englischen Sptromantik (Mnchen: F i n k ) .
Hyde, H. Montgomery 1963
Oscar Wilde: The Aftermath (London: Methuen).
I h r i g , E. 1934
Das Paradoxon bei Oscar Wilde ( D i s s . p h i l . , Marburg).
Ingleby, L.C. [1907]
Oscar Wilde (London: Laurie).
Jackson, H. 1923
The Eighteen Nineties (London: Grant Richards).
Laver, J . [o.J.]
Oscar Wilde (London: Longmans, For British Council).
Le Gallienne, R. 1951
The Romantic '90s (London: Putnam).
 233

Mann, O. 21962
Der Dandy (Hamburg).
Mason, St. 1905
Oscar Wilde. A Study from the French of Andr Gide ( O x f o r d ) .
Pearson, H. 1947
Oscar Wilde. Sein Leben und Werk ( B e r n : Scherz).
Praz, M. 1948
La carne, La morte e il diavolo sulla letteratura romantica (Flo-
renz: Sansoni Editore) ( e n g l . : The Romantic Agony, London
1951).
Ransome, A. 1913
Oscar Wilde. A Critical Study (London: Methuen).
Roditi, E. 1947
Oscar Wilde. Dichter und Dandy (Mnchen: Kluger).
San Juan, E. 1967
The A r t of Oscar Wilde (Princeton: Princeton Univ. Press).
San Juan, E. 1970
'Oscar Wildes The Importance of Being Earnest und die Form
seiner Komdien' ( i n ) W. Erzgraber ( H r s g . ) , Englische Literatur
von Oscar Wilde bis Samuel Beckett (Frankfurt/M.: Fischer),
pp.25-47.
Schickedanz, H.J. ( e d . ) 1980
Per Dandy. Texte und Bilder aus dem 19. Jahrhundert (Dort
mund: Harenberg).
Schickedanz, H.J. 1980
' E i n f h r u n g ' , i n : i d . ( e d . ) , pp.7-36.
Schirmann, E. 1933
Die literarischen Strmungen im Werke Oscar Wildes (Diss.phil.,
Greifswald).
Schn, E. 1949
Franzsische Einflsse in Oscar Wildes Werken ( D i s s . p h i l . , Ham
burg).
Shaw, G.B. 1930
'My Memories of Oscar Wilde' ( i n ) Frank Harris, Oscar Wilde: His
Life and Confessions (New Y o r k : Crown), pp.387-404.
Sherard, R. 1908
Das Leben Oscar Wildes (Wien).
Snider, R. 1937
'Satire in the Comedies of Congreve, Sheridan, Wilde and Co-
w a r d ' , The Maine Bulletin X L .
Somervell, D.C. 1946
Geistige Strmungen in England im 19. Jahrhundert ( B e r n :
Francke).
 234

St. John Hankin, 1969

'Wilde as a Dramatist', i n : Ellmann ( e d . ) , pp.61-72.
Symons, A. 1918
'The Decadent Movement in Literature', London Quarterly Review
129 (Januar 1918), pp.89-103.
Trevelyan, G.M. 1937
British History in the Nineteenth Century and After (1782-1919)
(London: Longmans).
Trevelyan, G.M. 1936
Geschichte Englands (Mnchen).
Westland, P. ( e d . ) 1950
'The Victorian Age' (in) History of English Literature, vol.V
(London).
Wingfield-Stratford, E. 1930
The History of British Civilisation (London: Routledge).
Wingfield-Stratford, E. 1932
The Victorian Sunset (London: Routledge).
Woodcock, G. 1950
'The Social Rebel', ( i n ) G. Woodcock, The Paradox of Oscar
Wilde (New York: MacMillan).
Yeats, W.B. 1969
'My First Meeting with Oscar Wilde' ( i n ) , Ellmann ( e d . ) , pp.9-15.
Zaic, F. 1936
'Oscar Wilde, The Importance of Being Earnest' ( i n ) Horst Oppel
( H r s g . ) , Das moderne englische Drama ( B e r l i n : Schmidt), pp.
44-61.
 THE THEATRICAL THEATRE - EVREINOV'S CONTRIBUTION TO
RUSSIAN MODERNISM. AN ANALYSIS OF VESELAJA SMERT'

Olle Hildebrand

1. The Object

The present study is devoted to Veselaja smert' (The Merry Death), a

play written in 1909 by the Russian playwright, director and theo
retician of theatre, Nikolaj Evreinov (1879-1953). The play has two
characteristic features which make it very typical for Evreinov: 1. it
is a metatheatrical play, i.e. a play dealing with the nature of
theatre; 2. it is an aethetical demonstration of a certain Utopian con
cept of theatre in relation to real life.

By calling the play 'metatheatrical' I mean that there exists a defin

able relationship between the aesthetic concept expressed in Veselaja
smert' and certain trends within modernism in contemporary Russian
theatre. One of the two purposes of this study is to throw some light
upon this relationship. The other is to describe the 'utopian concept'
mentioned above.

2. Methodology

A theatrical performance can be described as a double relationship.

1. The relationship between the stage and the auditorium. Here these
two elements are to be understood as abstractions, not as concrete
 236

parts of a theatre building. This implies that the stage and the
auditorium are inseparable entities; the one cannot exist without the
other. 2. The relationships withing the theatrical sign. In this paper
reference will be made to the semiotic triangle proposed by Ogden and
Richards (1972:11):

Reference

Symbol Referent

'Symbol' is the physical expression of the sign; 'referent' represents

reality and finally 'reference' is the concept of reality created or at
least intended by the use of a certain symbol.

The concept, 'art as an institution' ('Institution K u n s t ' ) , has been

summarized by the German scholar Peter Brger in the following way
(1974:29): "[...] sowohl der kunstproduzierende und distribuierende
Apparat als auch die zu einer gegebenen Epoche herrschenden Vor
stellungen ber Kunst [ . . . ] , die die Rezeption von Werken wesentlich
bestimmen. "

Discussing art as an institution Brger uses two concepts which are

of vital importance to this study. The f i r s t one is 'Lebenspraxis'
(here referred to merely as p r a x i s ) . Praxis represents man's material
production and consumption and also human relations. Praxis, there
f o r e , is not the same thing as the more abstract 'reality', which also
includes man's ideological activities such as politics, religion, philos
ophy, art etc. The second concept is art's autonomy ('Autonomie der
K u n s t ' ) . A r t in bourgeois society is described by Brger as relatively
autonomous (1974:35): "Die Kunst in der brgerlichen Gesellschaft
lebt von der Spannung zwischen institutionellem Rahmen (Freisetzung
der Kunst von gesellschaftlichen Verwendungsansprchen) und mgli
chen politischen Gehalten der Einzelwerke." The individual work of
art owes its political significance to the fact that it refers to praxis
(realism - naturalism). The supersedure of praxis of the work of art
 237

(aetheticism) means that the tension between art's institutional auto

nomy and the potential political significance of the individual work is
lost, so that the autonomy of the institution also becomes a quality of
the work of art itself: "Die Abgehobenheit von der Lebenspraxis, die
immer schon den institutionellen Status der Kunst in der brgerlichen
Gesellschaft ausgemacht hat, wird nun zum Gehalt der Werke," as
Brger puts it (1974:35).

3. The historical background

The play analysed in this paper is essentially a metatheatrical play,

i.e. a play about theatre. It is therefore necessary to sum up the
historical context in which it appeared. In October, 1898 the Moscow
Art Theatre opened its doors to the public. This marked the be
ginning of modern theatre in Russia. Here, for the f i r s t time, it was
possible to see a theatrical performance based on a consistent aesthet
ic idea which permeated the whole play. The aesthetic method general
ly described as naturalistic, which was cultivated at the Moscow
Theatre was to become the starting point for and the main target of
an intense debate on the essence and future of the theatre.

The development of the modernist movement in Russian theatre during

the decade following the opening of the Moscow A r t Theatre can be
outlined in five phases:

1. Naturalism was established at the Moscow A r t Theatre.

2. Naturalism was criticized from a symbolist point of view. This
criticism was initiated by the poet Valerij Brjusov in the article
'Nenuznaja pravda' (1902).

3. Attempts were made to create a symbolist theatre. The most famous

of these was the theatre of Vera Komissarzevskaja, with Mejer-
chol'd as main director and interpreter of the symbolist aesthetics.
4. The symbolist theatre failed to attract a public and the per
formances based on symbolist aestetics had to close down or, as
 238

was the case with the Moscow A r t T h e a t r e , r e t u r n to realism.

5. The crisis for the innovative, predominantly symbolist theatre
promoted the appearance of Utopian theories of t h e a t r e . T h e most
important of these were: a ) t h e a t r e as cult; this essentially sym
bolist idea, whose most talented spokesman in Russia was Vjaceslav
Ivanov, aimed at a resurrection of Greek t r a g e d y in the spirit of
Wagner and Nietzsche; b ) the theatricalisation of life; in this
theory, advanced mainly by Nikolaj Evreinov, t h e a t r e was looked
upon as games or playing ('igra').

A characteristic f e a t u r e of these two Utopian theories was that they

both t u r n e d against the institutional quality of a r t in bourgeois so
ciety, i.e. the separation of art from praxis. They rejected art's
autonomy, whether r e l a t i v e , r e f e r r i n g to praxis (realism, n a t u r a l i s m ) ,
or absolute, not r e f e r r i n g to praxis (aesteticism), and strove in the
end for a total abolition of the institution in accordance with the
principle: "[] Aufhebung der autonomen Kunst im Sinne einer
b e r f h r u n g der Kunst in Lebenspraxis." ( B r g e r 1974:72).

4. Evreinov's concept of theatricality

Evreinov developed his t h i n k i n g primarily in two theoretical works,

T e a t r takovoj (The Theatre as Such) and T e a t r dlja sebja
( T h e a t r e for Its Own S a k e ) , both published around 1915. T h e central
concept in these works is 'theatricality' (teatral'nost). Since E v r e i
nov's play and his theoretical works are closely interrelated, it is
necessary to give a brief presentation of his teachings.

Evreinov's concept of 'theatricality' is marked by the following two

aspects:

1 . T h e a t r i c a l i t y as an aesthetic doctrine. Evreinov wanted to see the

theatre as a self-sufficient form of a r t . Theatre should be just
theatre and nothing else, he said, polemizing against the n a t u r a l
ists who saw theatre as a mirror or life, and against the symbol-
 239

ists who had turned the theatre into a temple. He maintained that
scenic representation must have the character of an a n t i - w o r l d ,
where people and things are related to each other in a way quite
different form the way they are in real life.

2. Theatricality as 'Lebenspraxis 1 . To Evreinov life and theatre were

two comparable entities, comparable in the sense of 'superior to' or
'inferior t o ' . This concept gives way to his Utopian theory which I
have called "theatricality as 'Lebenspraxis' " . This means in short
that the 'theatrical instinct', which Evreinov considered to be as
fundamental as the sexual instinct, the instinct of self-preserva
tion, etc., should be given its 'proper' place in life; in other
words: the highest aim of life should be the satisfaction of the
theatrical instinct in a 'Lebenspraxis' where everybody enjoys the
role he consciously plays. This is a clearly hedonistic attitude
towards life and a r t , and it makes theatre equal to games or play
ing.

This seems to be a strange contradiction. On the one hand he

preaches the total autonomy of theatre, on the other he argues for
the transition of theatre into praxis. This contradiction, however, is
merely seeming. Burckhardt Lindner (1976) has shown, in his
polemics against Peter Brger concerning the European avant-garde,
that the transition of art into praxis stresses the autonomy of art in
relation to all other human activities, thus confirming the autonomy
instead of rejecting it (1976:83): "In der Intention der Aufhebung der
Kunst in der Lebenspraxis lt sich die Avantgarde demnach als der
radikalste und konsequenteste Versuch begreifen, den universellen
Anspruch autonomer Kunst gegenber allen brigen, partikularen
gesellschaftlichen Bereichen aufrechtzuerhalten und praktisch geltend
zu machen."

Consequently, the two aspects of theatricality that we meet in Evrei-

nov's thinking - aesthetic norm and praxis - should be looked upon
as an indivisible u n i t y .
 240

The object of this study, however, is not Evreinov's theories, but his
one-act play, Veselaja smert'. In the following pages I will t r y to
analyse the function of this dual concept of theatricality in an aes
thetic context.

5. Veselaja smert'

The curtain rises on Harlequin sleeping on a sofa. Beside him sits

Pierrot who is busy whisking away some flies from Harlequin's face.
After a while Pierrot walks to the footlights to deliver his prologue, a
compulsory element in the commedia dell'arte. He explains that Harle
quin is d y i n g . A fortuneteller has predicted that he will die on the
day he has slept more than he has revelled. Pierrot decides to do
Harlequin a last favour. He puts the clock back two hours in order to
prolong Harlequin's life. At this moment Harlequin wakes up and the
real play begins. The f i r s t character to appear is the Doctor. The
dying patient ( i . e . Harlequin), however, does nothing but poke fun
at the Doctor. Harlequin goes so far in his mockery that the scene
ends in a complete exchange of roles. In a short play within the play
he shows how the Doctor's agony of death has deprived him of the
joy of l i v i n g . When the Doctor leaves he is determined to live the rest
of his life not as if he was immortal but as if every day was the last.
Harlequin has cured him of his fear of death. In the next scene
Harlequin and Pierrot are shown preparing a dinner for three. The
person invited is Death. However, quite unexpectedly, Columbine,
who us Pierrot's wife and also Harlequin's mistress, appears instead
of Death. When Pierrot realizes that Columbine has planned a rendez
vous with Harlequin, he decides to wreak his vengeance upon him.

Feeling satisfied, Pierrot re-puts the clock ahead 2 hours and watches
with indifference as Harlequin and Columbine play their erotic games
in front of him. Suddenly Harlequin sinks down on the sofa. Death is
a r r i v i n g . When Death enters in the guise of a woman, Harlequin has
temporarily recovered. He greets Death with great dignity and asks
 241

her to dance the dance from the good old days when people still knew
the art of d y i n g . To the sound of sweet music she dances the dance
of death for Harlequin. At last the clock strikes and Death covers
Harlequin with her white gown. Everything is quiet and a cold moon
light illuminates the stage. The play ends with Pierrot's epilogue.

The f i r s t scene with Harlequin sleeping and Pierrot whisking away the
flies with his wide sleeves, seems to illustrate two contrary prin
ciples: on the one hand Harlequin and Pierrot, whose main function is
to underline theatricality - they are, so to speak, theatrical signs
sui generis (Bogatyrev 1971) - , on the other the buzzing flies, which
belong to the kind of signs that were used to create illusion in the
naturalistic settings of the Moscow A r t Theatre. The figures of the
commedia dell'arte belong to the stage; it is their natural milieu, while
the flies seem to be there by pure coincidence: an encroachment of
'reality' upon the world of theatre.

From Pierrot's prologue it appears that he is not the character Pierrot

but the actor playing the part of Pierrot. His speech, however, is
very confused. Sometimes he refers to himself as an actor, sometimes
he bewails the tragic fate of Harlequin, i.e. the character. Columbine
is also his wife 'in reality' (Evreinov 1973:5):

Pierrot: ' [ . . . ] And when Columbine shows u p , don't applaud like

mad, just to show your friends that you had an affair with her and
know how to appreciate real talent!

Thus two levels are established in the prologue: 1. the level of the
characters, i.e. the play; 2. the level of the supposed actors or
pseudo-reality. It is evident that Pierrot is unable to separate these
two levels from each other ( i b i d . ) :

Pierrot: [ . . . ] I know, perhaps for certain, that Harlequin [the

character, OH] will soon die, but what decent actor would tell his
audience the end of the play before it begins!

Pierrot plays a rather passive part in the play. Mostly he is merely

spectator to Harlequin's pranks. This function of being a spectator
acquires a special meaning when Pierrot is watching the erotic games
 242

of Harlequin and Columbine. In the prologue Pierrot referred to Co

lumbine as his 'real' wife, i.e. the level of the supposed actors. For
the 'actor' Pierrot, therefore, these games appear to be reality. As a
cuckold the 'actor' now turns to the real spectators seeking moral
support for his act of revenge on Harlequin. Consequently: in this
scene Pierrot identifies himself with the spectators. It is evident that
Pierrot, without losing his function as a character in the play, is
both 'actor' and 'spectator. Suddenly, however, it becomes clear to
him why he has revenged himself in Harlequin (Evreinov 1973:15-16).

Pierrot: 1...] Nasty evil people! You're the ones that dreamed up
these stupid rules! It's because of you I had to shorten the life of
my best f r i e n d . (Turns his back on the audience.)

Thus Pierrot is characterized not only by his inability to distinguish

between the play and 'reality', but also by the fact that he belongs
to two different worlds at the same time: the world of the spectator
and the world of Harlequin. The behaviour of the spectator - in
Evreinov's thinking the new bourgeoisie - is expressed through Pier
rot in immediate opposition to Harlequin "for whom laws don't exist"
(Evreinov 1973:5, and 12):

Harlequin: Be sensible. If you really love me and love Columbine, you

ought to be very happy for both of us. What's more, you know both
of us love you. [.. . ]
Pierrot: No. I'm not that simple. Nice people don't behave that way
and the only thing for me to do is to avenge my honor.

Just like Pierrot, Harlequin is both 'actor' and character, but while
this is a conflict for Pierrot, a conflict between life and theatre, it is
the very prerequisite for Harlequin's superiority. Harlequin is always
play-acting. His buffoonery makes the Doctor stand out as stupidity
itself. With Columbine he plays the part of a devoted and seducer.
Confronted with Death he transfers himself into a refined aristocrat.
However, Harlequin is more than just an actor who always finds a
part. He is also a 'director'. This function is marked most clearly in
the scene where Harlequin forces the role of the patient upon the
Doctor. In the seduction scene stress is laid upon the enjoyment of
 243

playing a pleasant part, and finally facing D e a t h , Harlequin is f i r s t

of all the ideal spectator of his own d e a t h .

The difference between Pierrot and Harlequin can be f u r t h e r devel

oped. Harlequin is so dominant that it is possible to regard him as
the 'director' of the play as mentioned above. T h e r e i s , however, one
scene where Harlequin does not have this f u n c t i o n , and that is when
Pierrot and Columbine start a heated quarrel. In contrast to the
alternately b a n t e r i n g , indelicate and refined atmosphere in Harlequin's
scenes, this vulgar and coarse quarrel stands out as a sudden e n
croachment of pseudoreality upon Harlequin's house. Here the
'actors', the spectators' equals, are speaking. When Pierrot apos
trophizes the audience he stresses his identity with i t . H a r l e q u i n , on
the other hand, emphasizes the difference between himself and the
spectators. Referring to the scene where he illustrated the Doctor's
(the spectators' equal) agony of d e a t h , he addresses the audience
with the words ( E v r e i n o v 1 9 7 3 : 1 6 ) :

Harlequin ( t o the audience): T h e poor Doctor! Why oh why didn't he

come to me for advice sooner!

It is now possible to compare Pierrot and Harlequin in a more formal

ized manner. One can describe a theatrical performance as a unity
consisting of four elements: the d i r e c t o r , the 'actor', the character,
and the spectator. With respect to these elements, we can set up and
compare the following two f i g u r e s :

Harlequin:
 244

Harlequin is harmonious. Within him there are no contradictions, i.e.

he is theatre through and t h r o u g h . Pierrot, on the other hand, is
divided. He can never be a director because he is "a harlequin who
has not succeeded" (Evreinov 1973:5). As a character, Pierrot be
longs to the world of Harlequin, while Pierrot, the 'actor' and the
'spectator', is identified with the philistines in the auditorium.

6. Veselaja smert' and commedia dell'arte

Evreinov called Veselaja smert' a harlequinade. The name of the genre

goes back to the 17th c e n t u r y , when the Comdie Italienne in Paris
gave so-called arlequniades, where the elevated tragedies of the
Comdie-Franaise were parodied. Thus the genre of the play i n
herently indicates a metatheatrical dimension. First of all Veselaja
smert' has to be seen within its historical context, i.e. as a part of
the renaissance of the comedia dell'arte which took place at the t u r n
of the century. The genre was reintroduced by the French sym
bolists. At the Cercle Funambulesque in Paris, pantomimes with Pier
rot and Columbine were an important part of the repertoire. The
symbolist theoretician Gustave Kahn (1889) also propagated for a
revival of the Italian comedy of masques. Other examples of this
renaissance are the popular play Knig Harlekin (1900) by the
Austrian playwright Rudolf Lothar, Der Schleier der Pierrette (1910)
by Schnitzler /staged both by Mejerchol'd and Tairov) and Bena-
vente's Los intereses creados (1907). The genre is also found in
Russian literature from the same time, for instance Balagancik (1906)
by Aleksandr Blok and A r l e k i n , chodataj svadeb (1911) by Vladimir
Solov'ev).

Harlequin symbolized theatricality to Evreinov. Everything that he

associated with the theatre, both as an art form and as a philosophy
of life, was concentrated in this f i g u r e . "Harlequin! . . . This word
has a quite magical effect on me!" (Evreinov 1917:17; my t r a n s l . ).
 245

"My 'Merry death'. I am Harlequin and I will die as Harlequin."

(Evreinov 1912:119; my t r a n s l . ).

As we have seen, the structure of Veselaja smert' is based on the

opposition between two worlds, the world of Harlequin and the world
of the spectator. The intermediate position that characterizes Pierrot
in the play only strengthens this opposition. This kind of relationship
between the stage and the auditorium was also typical for classical
commedia dell'arte, as has been pointed out by Allarddyce Nicoli
(1962:75): "Harlequin appears in a wholly formalized costume, a dark
mask covering half of his face; manifestly he has nothing to do with
the actual world of the spectators."

A more detailed description shows how closely Evreinov's character

comes to the original Harlequin. Nicoli states (1963:70): "Harlekin
exists in a mental world wherein concepts of morality have no being,
and yet, despite such absence of morality, he displays no vicious-
ness."

This quotation should be compared with the scene where Pierrot has
discovered that Harlequin is Columbine's lover (Evreinov 1973:12):

Harlequin: You're both my friends. But you want to be the only one,
so you're jealous?
Pierrot: You know very well why I'm jealous and who's to blame.
Harlequin: Be sensible. If you really love me and love Columbia, you
ought to be very happy for both of us. What's more, you know both
of us love you. So why complain? Set the t h i r d place!

There are two levels in Veselaja smert', the level of the 'actors' and
the level of the characters. To Harlequin there is no contradiction
between these two levels: he is always playing. Typical for classical
commedia dell'arte was the permanent relation between the actor and
the part he played. One actor always played Harlequin, another actor
always played Pierrot, a t h i r d always Columbine etc. This resulted in
the actor also being identified with his part off stage. The entire life
of an actor playing commedia dell'arte could be dominated by the
character he had specialized i n . T h u s , the borderline between the
actor's life and theatre became diffuse and he was also expected to
play his part in real life.
 246

What Evreinov did was to recreate -symbolically - the special relation

between the actor and his role which characterized the commedia d e l l '
arte. In this respect the f i g u r e of Harlequin functions as a pedagogic
tool. Life is dominated by role playing for H a r l e q u i n . T h e important
thing, however, is not the role he plays but role-playing as such,
which is presented in the play as a new and better way of life. T h e
ultimate aim of role-playing is to master that which we here call
praxis. Harlequin achieves this by considering life as a system of
signs, the reference to which he 'creates' himself. The Doctor is
transformed into a fool; Columbine, Pierrot's quarrelsome wife, be
comes a beautiful mistress; and Death appears to him as a heroine
from some fairground theatre. In other words, people, things and
phenomena are given an aesthetic or symbolic function in addition to
t h e i r real or natural f u n c t i o n .

In the p l a y , Evreinov symbolically demonstrated how the principles of

theatricality are transmitted into p r a x i s . T h e purpose, however, was
not to denounce t h e a t r e as a performing a r t and to accept only games
or playing as t r u e t h e a t r e . As we have seen, the concept 'theatre as
praxis' is demonstrated from the stage by the character who embodies
the a r t of the t h e a t r e most of a l l . This leads us to the conclusion
t h a t t h e a t r e as a performing a r t is necessary as long as it serves as
a model for p r a x i s . We have now come to the crossroad of the a n a l
ysis, where the two aspects of theatricality: aesthetic norm and
praxis, meet, Contemporary theatre, said Evreinov, could not meet
t h e demand of serving as a model for p r a x i s . T h a t is why the t h e a t r e
had to seek new forms. Polemizing against Jurij Ajchenval'd and his
article 'Otricanie teatra' ('A Denial of the T h e a t r e ' ) Evreinov wrote
(1915, 2:84; my t r a n s l . ) : Only the fact that we don't need the
t h e a t r e we have indicates that we need another o n e . "

Here the tradition of the commedia dell'arte became for Evreinov as

well as for many o t h e r s , a source of inspiration for a renewal of the
aesthetics of the t h e a t r e , a renewal w h i c h , for Evreinov d u r i n g the
autumn of 1908, was primarily aimed at overcoming symbolism.
 247

7. Veselaja smert' and symbolism

Evreinov wrote Veselaja smert' in the autumn of 1908, i . e . approxi

mately at the same time as he wrote his f i r s t programmatic essay -
'Apoligija teatral'nosti' ('An Apology for T h e a t r i c a l i t y ' ) . At this time
Evreinov was working with, or had just finished working w i t h , his
production, of Oscar Wilde's Salome at the t h e a t r e of Vera Komissar
evskaja. By replacing IVIejerchoI'd by Evreinov and Fedor Komissar-
zevskij, Vera Komissarevskaja wanted to change the aesthetic aim
and direction of the t h e a t r e . The dogmatic symbolism of IVIejerchoI'd
would be superceded by a greater freedom for the actors as f a r as
the means of scenic expression was concerned. To Evreinov, the
production of Salome was supposed to conform the correctness of his
ideas, to prove t h a t the t h e a t r e of convention ( i . e . the a n t i - n a t u r a l
istic t h e a t r e ) had found its proper language, a language f a r from the
abstractions of symbolism, a language codified in Evreinov's own
theory of theatricality (see Evreinov 1923:16-28). It is hardly an
exaggeration to maintain t h a t Evreinov saw himself as the man who
was going to pilot the ship of contemporary t h e a t r e past the Scylla of
naturalism and the Charybdis of symbolism and t h a t h e , especially in
the autumn of 1908, regarded himself as the creator of the true
t h e a t r e of convention in opposition to symbolism. In the light of this
perspective it seems plausible to also assume t h a t Veselaja smert' was
directed against the symbolist aesthetics of the t h e a t r e , against sym
bolist drama.

If the figureheads of the s h o r t - l i v e d Russian symbolist t h e a t r e were

the director IVIejerchoI'd and the actress Komissarzevskaja, its most
renowned play was izn' eloveka ( T h e Life of Man) by Leonid A n -
dreev. In 1907 it was staged both at the t h e a t r e of Vera Komissar
zevskaja and at the Moscow A r t T h e a t r e . Andreev's play was such a
sensation - p a r t l y because of several interventions by the censors
which were followed by heated discussions in the press - t h a t the
author was awarded the G r i b o e d o v - p r i z e .
 248

In izn' eloveka the life of Man is depicted from the cradle to the
grave. First you see him young and poor but very ambitious, then at
the height of his civil career and finally when he sinks into poverty
and misfortune.

The final act, which is set in a miserable t a v e r n , shows the death of

Man. During the entire play, 'Nekto v serom' (the one dressed in
g r e y ) is present on stage. He carries a candle which is lit at the
very moment Man is born and which goes out when Man dies. This
figure symbolizes the powers that rule Man's life, powers that lie
beyond his control. It suffices to say that 'Nekto v serom' symbolizes
the fata of Man and that the main theme of the play is Man's relation
to his fate.

With just a hasty glance it is easy to discover a connection between

the two plays. They both end with the death of the hero and with
the candlelight that burned throughout the play going out. The final
scene in both plays is dominated by a dance of death. While A n -
dreev's play deals with the life of Man ( i . e . the bourgeoisie), Evrei-
nov's play deals with the death of Harlequin, who is nothing but the
antithesis of the bourgeoisie. In a broader sense izn' eloveka is
about 'the facts' of life while Veselaja smert' presents a model of life.
It is also worth mentioning the prologue in Andreev's play, the be
ginning and conclusion of which are totally turned upside-down by
Evreinov in his play.

izn' eloveka is a play which has two levels, a metaphysical one and
a 'real' one, representing praxis in bourgeois society. A fundamental
idea in the play is that the life that man creates for himself is merely
a long series of illusions and that the only things that are 'real' are
those which lie beyond man's control, i.e. his b i r t h , fate and death.

In the play the signs representing these 'real' phenomena are given a
metaphysical reference. Such signs are Andreev's 'the one dressed in
grey' and the 'old women wrapped in strange veils', which appear in
the final scene. The 'illusive reality', on the other hand, is depicted
in the semiotic tradition of realism. Thus the play consists of two
 249

different kinds of signs, one representing the illusive bourgeois

praxis, and the other representing a metaphysical 'reality'. This is,
of course, nothing other than the basic pattern of symbolist aesthet
ics.

In Veselaja smert' we have the following different signs: 1. signs

representing a bourgeois praxis (the Doctor and Columbine and Pier
rot during their q u a r r e l ) ; 2. purely theatrical signs, which have no
reference outside the world of the theatre (above all Harlequin, but
also the other characters from commedia dell'arte, the latter having a
vacillating function); 3. signs with a symbolic allegorical reference
(Death). All of these signs, however, are subordinated to the figure
of Harlequin, the only purely theatrical sign. Consequently the dif
ferent signs exist only as material to be used in a secondary struc
ture, i.e. in Harlequin's play-acting. The symbolist dualism between
appearance and reality, which constitutes the semiotic structure in
Andreev's play, becomes irrelevant in Evreinov's harlequinade. 'Reali
t y ' in Veselaja smert' is only a function of the theatricalizing subject,
of Harlequin. In other words, it seems evident that Evreinov looked
for inspiration in the tradition of the commedia dell'arte in order to
bream with symbolism, aesthetically as well as philosophically (epis-
temologically). This can also be shown by comparing the relationship
between the stage and the auditorium, which is established in the
prologues of the two plays. The prologue in Andreev's play, which is
spoken by 'Nekto v serom' begins and closes as follows (1908:7-9):

Schauet und h r t , die ihr hierher gekommen seid um der Lust des
Lachens willen. Vor euch wird sich das ganze Leben des Menschen
entrollen, mit seinem dunklen Anfang und dunklen Ende. [ . . . ]
Und i h r , die ihr hierher gekommen seid um des Zeitvertreibs willen,
ihr dem Tode geweihten, schaut und hrt: als ein fernes gespenstiges
Echo wird vor euch, mit seinem Leiden und Freuden, das rasch
hinflieende Leben des Menschen vorberrauschen.

The spectator is invited to reconsider his expectations of entertain

ment, of a nice evening at the theatre. He is supposed to forget that
he is sitting in an auditorium and to prepare himself to see a pro
jection of his own life from the cradle to the grave pass before his
 250

eyes. As in symbolist t h e a t r e generally, the stage thus becomes an

ideological mirror of the auditorium, a mirror in which the life of man
is reflected in a vertical perspective.

T h i s religiously inspired pretentiousness is totally reversed by E v r e i -

nov in the prologue of Veselaja smert' ( 1 9 7 3 : 5 ) :

Pierrot: S h h . . . Quiet! T a k e your seats as noiselessly as possible and

t r y to keep any talking and shifting in your chairs to a minimum,
because if any of you were dragged by one of your uncultured
f r i e n d s , and you're too serious to take any interest in some h a r l e
q u i n a d e , then t h e r e is no point in your bringing it to the attention of
the rest of the audience, who, after a l l , are not concerned with your
personal tastes. F u r t h e r m o r e , Harlequin is asleep . . .

Here the theatrical situation is stressed. What is to be shown is

simply a piece of entertaining t h e a t r e which has absolutely nothing to
do with the actual life of the spectators. This is, however, an ironic
al description of the play's message. Instead, the t r u t h is that the
stage is a model for the auditorium. Harlequin's secondary role play
ing demonstrates to the spectators ( t h e bourgeoisie) an a n t i - w o r l d , a
new praxis governed by the principles of theatricality. In other
words: Andreev shows how the bourgeoisie actually lives, Evreinov
shows how it ought to live.

8. Conclusion

Veselaja smert' is essentially a metatheatrical play in which Evreinov

tried to develop modernist theatre in Russia by the use of a new
semiotic structure and a new relationship between the stage and the
auditorium. An attempt to describe artistic evolution from a semiotic
point of view has been made by the Russian scholar Igor' Smirnov
(Smirnov 1977). Referring to the semiotic triangle the transition from
one aesthetic system to another as a change of the relationships be
tween the elements in the sign. In Smirnov's writings naturalism is
characterized by its stress on the r e f e r e n t , whereas symbolism t r a n s
fers this stress to the reference. Polemizing against these semiotic
 251

systems, both present in izn' eloveka, Evreinov introduced the

sign of H a r l e q u i n , the s t r u c t u r e of which opposes naturalism by the
absence of a r e f e r e n t , and opposes symbolism by the annihilation of
the dialectical tension between r e f e r e n t and symbol, which gives way
to a metaphysical interpretation of the reference. Harlequin is only a
symbol (i.e. scenic expression), in other words he refers only to
himself. If in pure naturalism (which of course does not e x i s t ) the
reference is 'swallowed 1 by the r e f e r e n t , the r e f e r e n t in the sign of
Harlequin is 'swallowed' by the symbol. I would like to propose the
term theatricalism to classify a play, where the dominating sign(s)
has this structure. Introducing the purely theatrical sign - the
theatrical sign sui generis - as a dominating element in the play,
Evreinov anticipated the fundamental idea of his own theories (1912:
20' my t r a n s l . ) . "The theatre should not be a temple [symbolism;
OH], a school, a mirror [naturalism; O H ] , a t r i b u n e or a teacher's
d e s k , but only t h e a t r e . "

T h e f i g u r e of H a r l e q u i n , who does not refer to anything outside the

world of the theatre, actualizes the concept of art's autonomy de
scribed by Brger. In accordance with Brger's ideas, Veselaja
smert' is a v e r y typical example of aetheticism: the autonomy of a r t
(as an institution) also becomes a quality of the work of a r t itself.
When a work of a r t , as it is intended by the a r t i s t , loses its semiotic
relationship to life (supression of the r e f e r e n t ) it obviously becomes
comparable to life in terms of superiority or i n f e r i o r i t y . Sologub says
(1915:36, my t r a n s l . ) : "The a r t of our time is aware of its superior
i t y over life and over n a t u r e . " Evreinov (1921:34; my t r a n s l . ) talks
about life on stage that "[...] is so much more a t t r a c t i v e than our
real life." When a r t is thus understood as autonomous in relation to
praxis then it is no longer possible to apprehend the qualitative d i f
ference between art and life. Thus the prerequisite is created for
aestheticism to t u r n into its own antithesis: transition of the prin
ciples of aesthetics into praxis. T h e constant role-playing of Harle
quin ( i . e . the theatrical sign sui g e n e r i s ) is a symbolic representation
 252

of this transition. Consequently the stage is given the status of a

model, it becomes exemplary in relation to the auditorium. From this
it also follows that the play is not only intended to be pure theatre;
Evreinov also wanted it to be a school for life, a school where Harle
quin was the teacher. The educative function of Veselaja smert' has,
of course, nothing in common with the moral, social or quasi-religious
ambitions that characterized naturalism and symbolism respectively.
Evreinov's theatre is not a school for the things that are said on
stage about life, but for the things that are said about theatre (the
concept 'theatre' is used here in its widest sense, including all kinds
of role-playing). Instead of presenting a mirror to the spectators (in
the case of naturalism a mirror essentially reflecting praxis, in the
case of symbolism a mirror reflecting a certain dualistic 'Weltanschau
ung' with but minor references to p r a x i s ) , Evreinov wanted to create
an antithesis to the actual world of the bourgeois spectators. This
anti-world was to be based on the principles of theatricality as he
saw them embodied in the figure of Harlequin.

References

Andreev, Leonid 1908

Das Leben des Menschen (Berlin [= izn' eloveka).
Bogatyrev, Petr 1971
'Les signes du thtre', Potique 8, pp.517-530.
Brjusov, Valerij 1902
'Nenunaja pravda', Mir Iskusstva 4, pp.67-74.
Brger, Peter 1974
Theorie der Avantgarde ( F r a n k f u r t am Main).
Evreinov, Nikolaj 1912
Teatr takovoj (Sankt Peterburg).
Evreinov, Nikolaj 1913
Pro scena sua (Sankt Peterburg).
Evreinov, Nikolaj 1915
Teatr dlja sebja 1-3 (Petrograd).
 253

Evreinov, Nikolaj 1917

'Sut' i smert'. 'Veselaja smert' ' v 'Privale komediantov' ', Is-
kusstvo (Petrograd) p p . 5 - 6 , 17-18.
Evreinov, Nikolaj 1973
Life as Theater (Ann A r b o r ) .
Kahn, Gustave 1889
'Un thtre de I'avenir', Revue d'art dramatique, pp.335-353.
Lindner, Burkhardt 1976
'Aufhebung der Kunst in Lebenspraxis', ( i n ) 'Theorie der Avant-
garde'. Antworten auf Peter Brgers Bestimmung von Kunst und
brgerlichen Gesellschaft ( F r a n k f u r t am Main), pp.72-104.
Nicoll, Allardyce 1962
The theatre and Dramatic Theory (London).
Nicoll, Allardyce 1963
The World of Harlequin (Cambridge).
Ogden, C . K . , and I.A. Richards 1972
The meaning of meaning (London) (= 1923).
Smirnov, Igor' 1977
Chudozestvennyj smysl i evoljucija poeticeskich sistem (Moskva).
Sologub, Fedor 1915
'Iskusstvo nasich dnej', Russkaja mysl', 12,2 pp.35-62.
 LE ROLE DE L'ESPACE SCENIQUE DANS LA LECTURE
DU TEXTE DRAMATIQUE
Quelques observations sur un 'modle' du genre dramatique
et sur les Sei personaggi in cerca d'autore de Pirandello.

Steen Jansen

. Prmisses

0.0. L'analyse d'un texte - et donc d'un texte dramatique aussi - ne

peut jamais tre immanente: elle ne peut se faire sans que le texte,
explicitement ou non, soit mis en relation avec des lments externes
au t e x t e , ou bien lis celui qui le produit, ou l'crit, ou bien lis
celui qui l'utilise, ou le lit.

Le plus souvent l'analyse a pour but de mieux comprendre le texte

comme rsultat de l'activit qui l'a produit, de l'criture ; nous vou
drions envisager ci une analyse ayant pour but de mieux comprendre
le texte comme 'condition' de l'activit qui s'en sert, de la lecture. En
d'autres termes, plus formaliss et en simplifiant lgrement, la pro
blmatique de l'analyse repose sur une conception qu'on pourrait dans
auteur
le premier cas formuler ainsi: f (activit ) = texte, dans le
Iecteu r
second cas ainsi: f (texte) = activit . Dans les deux cas,
l'analyse chercherait voir quelle est la forme de cette 'fonction' 'f';
mais rien n'indique qu'il s'agit d'une mme sorte de fonction, tout
porte plutt penser le contraire, et donc que la seconde analyse
aura besoin d'un autre modle, ou fondement thorique que la pre
mire.
 255

L'objet de l'analyse envisage ici est alors le texte dramatique tel qu'il
fonctionne dans la lecture. Dans une premire partie, nous voudrions
d'abord esquisser quelques notions de base qui explicitent, de ma
nire trs gnrale, notre conception du texte et permettent de mettre
en place des catgories thoriques conceptuelles qui puissent servir
de fondement une telle analyse du texte dramatique. Dans une
seconde partie, nous essayerons d'appliquer les concepts qui en
rsultent quelques exemples tirs du texte des Sei personaggi
in cerca d'autore de Pirandello.

1. L'espace scnique dans un 'modle' du genre dramatique

1.1.1. Dans la perspective adopte, avec la problmatique esquisse

comme base, le point de dpart des rflexions dvelopper est la
situation de lecture, c . - - d . la situation o s'tablit un rapport entre
2
le texte et le lecteur. Dans le cas qui nous intresse ici , on peut
spcifier cela en disant que ce rapport est un rapport qui s'tablit
entre l'univers textuel du texte et l'univers rel du lecteur.

Ce rapport peut s'articuler de diffrentes manires suivant lesquelles

on peut introduire une distinction qui oppose une classe (ou type) de
'textes univers factuel' une classe (type) de 'textes univers
fictif'. Dans le premier cas l'univers du texte est tel qu'il est, ou
peut devenir une partie de l'univers rel du lecteur, aussi sans lui
ressembler (comme cela peut arriver avec des rcits de voyages de
pays exotiques). Dans le second cas, l'univers textuel est tel qu'il
ressemble, ou peut devenir ressemblant (du moins indirectement ou
partiellement) l'univers rel du lecteur, mais jamais en devenir une
partie.

Si un univers textuel se prsente comme factuel, cela signifie donc

qu'il se prsente comme tant rel de la mme faon que l'est l'univers
rel du lecteur: celui-ci est amen, ou invit, le comprendre comme
une partie de son univers rel l u i , partie dont il est cens avoir ou
pouvoir faire connaissance par d'autres voies que le texte en question
 256

et propos de laquelle il est raisonnable qu'il demande si la ( r e ) p r

sentation qu'en fait le texte est vraie ou fausse. Si un univers tex
tuel se prsente comme f i c t i f , cela signifie par contre qu'il se pr
sente comme absolument distinct de l'univers rel du lecteur: l'unique
voie par laquelle celui-ci peut avoir 'accs' cet univers f i c t i f est le
texte en question, et dans ce cas, la question de savoir si la pr
sentation qu'en donne le texte est vraie ou fausse, n'est pas p e r t i
nente. Pour pouvoir tablir un rapport (sans lequel il n'y aurait pas
de lecture) entre l'un et l'autre univers, bien qu'ils soient absolument
distincts, le lecteur est alors amen, ou invit, chercher dans
l'univers fictif des aspects qui (plus ou moins directement) 'res
semblent' des aspects appartenant son univers rel, et, ven
tuellement, se demander si (la prsentation de) cet univers fictif
est vraisemblable ou non.

1.1.2. La conception propose ici implique un 'modle trois n i

veaux' du phnomne complexe qu'est le texte l u , savoir un niveau
des noncs, un niveau de l'univers textuel et un niveau des signi
fications. C'est du second niveau que nous nous occuperons dans ces
pages.

Insister sur le texte lu signifie aussi prsupposer qu'on peut et qu'il

faut distinguer entre la situation du lecteur du texte dramatique et
celle du spectateur de la reprsentation scnique, et souligner qu'
strictement parler il ne sera question ici que de la premire.

Mais lorsqu'il s'agit de la mme pice, il est difficile de ne pas rap

procher les deux situations. Prcisions alors que nous pensons qu'il y
a dans ce cas un rapport entre texte dramatique et reprsentation
scnique, mais que nous postulons qu'il sera chercher au niveau de
l'univers textuel, et l seulement; plus exactement, le texte drama
tique et la reprsentation scnique d'une mme pice ont en commun la
structuration formelle de l'univers fictif de cette pice, tandis que ce
qui distingue les deux, ce qui est propre chacun, se placerait au
niveau des noncs (cf. Jansen 1980);
 257

S'il est ainsi, des concepts thoriques qui permettent d'tudier cette
structuration de l'univers f i c t i f , sont galement importants pour l'ana
lyse du texte dramatique et pour celle de la reprsentation scnique
- et c'est en effet partir d'une telle hypothse aussi que le prsent
travail a t crit.

1.1.3. Pour prciser la diffrence entre deux types de texte, nous

sommes partis d'une description de la situation de lecture qui laisse
entendre que le texte et le lecteur en sont les constituants primaires
entre lesquels s'tablit ensuite le rapport qui les relie dans cette s i
tuation.

Il serait sans doute plus juste, ou adquate, de dire que le rapport

est le constituant primaire et qu'il dtermine, en tant qu'entits qui
intressent le raisonnement dvelopper i c i , le texte et le lecteur: le
rapport fait de l'ensemble d'noncs linguistiques qu'est le texte la
(re)prsentation d'un univers t e x t u e l , et de la personne qu'est le
lecteur quelqu'un qui s'efforce de donner une signification au texte
en tablissant une relation entre un univers textuel que le texte est
cens (re)prsenter, et son propre univers rel En ce sens, le rap
port de la situation de lecture se distingue par exemple du rapport
qui s'tablit dans (ou qui dtermine) une situation d'apprentissage
linguistique ou d'analyse grammaticale.

Le rapport peut varier, et en s'inspirant de la clbre distinction de

Roman Jakobson (1963: 61ss), on pourra distinguer entre un rapport
'mtonymique' qui fait du texte un texte univers factuel (o ce der
nier est v u , par le lecteur, comme une partie de son propre univers
rel) et un rapport 'mtaphorique' qui en fait un texte univers fictif
(o ce dernier est v u , par le lecteur, comme 'ressemblant' (un
aspect de) son propre univers rel). Selon le rapport ( o u , si l'on
veut, la manire de l i r e ) , un texte donn pourra alors se prsenter
comme (ou devenir, pour le lecteur) texte univers factuel ou
univers fictif (tre lu par exemple comme biographie ou comme roman),
de mme qu'un lecteur pourra, dans une situation donne, rapporter
 258

tous les textes qu'il lit un mme type de texte (en faire par exemple
des 'documents' sur une certaine poque, qu'il s'agisse de Madame
Bovary ou de La dame aux camlias, des Fleurs du mal ou du Systme
de politique positive).

Il s'ensuit que les distinctions que nous essayons d'laborer dans la

suite, relvent fondamentalement de diffrences entre les rapports qui
peuvent s'tablir entre un texte et un lecteur. Si nous continuons
pourtant parler surtout de textes, c'est d'une part pour ne pas
trop allourdir l'expos, et de l'autre parce que notre propos est ci
en premier lieu de prsenter quelques concepts de base d'un modle
d'un certain type de texte, le texte dramatique. Mais ce type de texte
est dtermin par le rapport entre texte et lecteur, et ne doit pas
tre conu comme li un certain groupe, ou classe, de textes don
ns: le type auquel un texte donn est rapport change lorsque le
rapport le fait (qu'on pense aux diffrentes lectures de Courtois
d ' A r r a s , texte narratif ou dramatique (Togeby 1978: 245); mais si le
rapport s'est fix (si une manire de lire s'est impose, ou a t
choisie, plutt qu'une a u t r e ) , cela signifie que le texte est f a i t , ou
devient le reprsentant, ou la manifestation d'un certain type de
texte.

La question que nous nous posons est alors la suivante: qu'est-ce que
cela implique pour la lecture d'un texte qu'il se prsente comme, ou
est lu comme, un texte dramatique? C'est sur ces prmisses que
doivent tre compris les termes de texte et de type de texte tels que
nous les employons par la suite.

1.2.1. Pour que le rapport de ressemblance qui caractrise la lecture

du texte univers fictif puisse s'tablir, il faut que cet univers
s'organise (ou que le lecteur puisse l'organiser) dans sa forme selon
les catgories de l'espace, du temps et de la personne. Cette condi
tion n'existe pas dans la lecture du texte univers factuel: celui-ci
peut tre la description d'un objet (un mode d'emploi, par e x . ) ; cet
objet sera plac dans un espace sans l'intervention (ou la prsence)
 259

ncessaire des deux autres catgories dans l'organisation de l'univers

factuel. Mais si une telle description fait partie de (ou est lue comme)
un texte univers f i c t i f , l'objet sera tout de suite mis en relation
avec des lments appartenant l'une et l'autre des deux autres
catgories (avec un narrateur dans une situation donne, par e x . ) .

Pour que les noncs d'un texte puissent apparatre comme la

(re)prsentation d'un univers textuel, soit factuel soit f i c t i f , le texte
doit prsenter, ou le lecteur pouvoir trouver, un 'point' formel
travers lequel ce dernier peut avoir accs (entrer en contact avec
ou v o i r ) l'univers du texte, et partir duquel se laissent organiser
soit les noncs en tant que (re)prsentation de cet univers soit
l'univers (re)prsent. C'est l'absence d'un tel 'point' qui fait qu'un
'texte' compos d'une suite d'noncs casuels (comme la liste d'exemples
dans une grammaire) apparat difficilement comme la (re)prsentation
d'un univers textuel, ou du moins exige un effort considrable de la
part d'un lecteur qui veut que ce 'texte' apparaisse comme une telle
(re)prsentation. Lorsqu'il s'agit d'un texte univers factuel, o ce
dernier est cens faire partie de l'univers rel du lecteur, le 'point
d'accs' peut appartenir ou non cet univers factuel (la personne de
l'auteur d'une autobiographie; la conception, thorique ou idologique,
de l'auteur d'une tude scientifique). Par contre, lorsqu'il s'agt d'un
texte univers f i c t i f , o ce dernier est absolument distinct de l'uni
vers rel du lecteur, le 'point d'accs' doit appartenir l'univers
fictif.

Le 'point d'accs' n'est pas le mme d'un (type de) texte l'autre
(comme on vient de le voir dans l'exemple du texte univers factuel:
personne ou conception). Lorsqu'il s'agit des textes univers f i c t i f ,
tels qu'ils sont conus i c i , c'est une telle diffrence entre les 'points
d'accs' qui conduit la distinction qui oppose texte narratif et texte
dramatique: dans le premier cas, le point d'accs est un narrateur,
dans le second un espace scnique. Dans la perspective adopte ci,
on proposera donc 1 ) de considrer ce dernier lment, l'espace sc
nique, comme fondamental dans la structure formelle du texte drama-
 260

tique - de la mme faon que l'est le narrateur dans le texte narratif,

2) de rendre compte des diffrences entre ces deux types de texte et
des caractristiques de chacun des deux partir de l'opposition
narrateur vs espace scnique.

1.2.2. On remarque qu'avec cette dfinition des textes narratif et

dramatique, le type de texte dit lyrique se trouve mis part par
rapport aux deux premiers, et donc la triade traditionelle abandon
ne; cette conclusion correspond celle laquelle on arrive aussi par
d'autres raisonnements (cf. Saraiva 1974 et Genette 1977, par e x . ) .

Nous n'avons pas discuter longuement comment dfinir le texte

l y r i q u e ; mais notons quand-mme qu'on devra probablement, dans la
perspective adopte i c i , le concevoir comme un texte dont l'univers ne
se laisse pas dfinir par l'opposition factuel vs f i c t i f . Ce qui ferait
apparatre un texte comme un texte lyrique, ce serait plutt l'in
stauration d'un 'rapport thmatique' (o l'on donne au terme 'thme'
un sens large) entre texte et lecteur; et lorsqu'on parlerait alors
d'une distinction entre rapports thmatique, mtonymique ou mta
phorique (cf. plus haut), on penserait aux rapports fondamentaux
(qui font de l'univers d'un texte lu un univers primordialement
l y r i q u e , factuel ou f i c t i f ) , mais qui n'excluent pas qu'un autre rapport
se superpose au rapport fondamental, le rapport thmatique au rapport
mtaphorique (comme lorsqu'on parle de la structure thmatique de
tel roman de Hugo) ou un rapport mtaphorique un rapport thma
tique (comme lorsque les Nuits de Musset apparaissent comme des
textes lyriques dots d'une structure dramatique). Le mme 'jeu'
entre rapports fondamentaux et secondaires (c.-.-d. apparaissant
comme tels dans une lecture donne) peut se trouver la base de re
lations tablies entre l'ensemble d'un texte et ses parties: le rapport
choisi (ou impos) dans la lecture d'un texte dans son ensemble peut
tre remplac par un autre dans la lecture d'une partie de celui-ci,
partie qui du mme coup est isole du reste du texte (comme il arrive
lorsqu'on lit les Stances du Cid comme un texte lyrique ou le rcit de
Thramne, dans Phdre, comme un texte n a r r a t i f ) .
 261

1.3.1. Dans la situation de lecture, l'espace scnique (ES) dans le

texte dramatique (TD) - comme le narrateur (N) dans le texte narra
t i f (TN) - se prsente donc comme un lment appartenant l'univers
fictif du texte et comme celui qui en mme temps assure la jonction
entre et fixe la limite entre l'univers, rel, o se trouve le lecteur et
celui, f i c t i f , que lui prsente le texte qu'il lit. La prsence de l'ES,
ou du N, est indispensable pour que le lecteur puisse lire, et com
prendre, le texte comme un texte univers f i c t i f , respectivement
dramatique et narratif, et l'un et l'autre 'organisent' l'univers fictif
en ce sens qu'ils mettent en place, ou se placent comme, une sorte de
' g r i l l e ' , ou principe formel s t r u c t u r a n t , qui conditionne la conception
que le lecteur peut se faire de l'univers f i c t i f .

Si la prsence, dans un texte donn, d'un ES ou d'un N a pour effet

de le faire apparatre comme reprsentant de deux types de texte
diffrents, ce qui revient d i r e , i c i , qu'elle le fait fonctionner de
deux manires diffrentes dans la situation de lecture, cela est
d'abord d au fait que ES appartient la catgorie de l'espace et N
celle de la personne. On pourrait, un peu mtaphoriquement, dire que
tandis que le N est une espce de conscience abstraite, parfois omni
prsente parfois lie un des personnages de l'univers f i c t i f , qui se
t r o u v e , tant narrateur, avoir une relation, directe ou indirecte, avec
tous les lments de l'univers f i c t i f , l'ES est une sorte de scne
4
abstraite , parfois reprsente, ou figure, par un seul lieu scnique
parfois par plusieurs lieux scniques diffrents, q u i , tant espace
scnique, est tel que tous les personnages de l'univers fictif y appa
raissent. Autrement formule: si l'on peut affirmer que le lecteur du
texte narratif est invit oprer une 'mise en narration' de l'univers
f i c t i f , celui du texte dramatique est amen en oprer une 'mise en
espace'; cette diffrence pourra, et devra tre ultrieurement prcise
par des analyses d'exemples concrets o il y a un rapport particu
lirement troit entre les deux types, par exemple: Zola: Thrse
Raquin (roman et drame), Verga: La cavalleria rusticana (nouvelle et
drame) et un assez grand nombre de nouvelles et de pices de thtre
 262

de Pirandello (cf. Moestrup 1969, qui pourtant adopte un point de

vue diffrent de celui adopt i c i ) . Cf. aussi Ubersfeld (1978: 154ss)
et Yaari (1978: 12-13).

De mme que le N, et avant tout par les relations qui s'tablissent

entre lui et les (autres) personnages de l'univers f i c t i f , dtermine un
'point de v u e ' , ainsi l'ES, surtout dans ses relations avec le reste de
l'espace de l'univers f i c t i f , dtermine une 'perspective' qui influence la
conception, ou la vision qu'on peut se faire de ce dernier dans la
situation de lecture; ainsi la perspective varie selon que le texte lu
est Brittanicus, Hernani ou En attendant Godot (comme le point de
vue varie selon qu'il s'agit du Rouge et Noir, Madame Bovary ou
A la recherche du temps p e r d u ) , et les significations que la perspec
tive de Brittanicus permet d'attribuer au texte (par ex. celle d'un
lieu fortement dlimit qui spare un espace du Priv d'un espace du
Monde) ne sont gure compatibles avec la perspective de Hernani.

D'autre p a r t , la forme de l'ES peut (comme la manire de 'narrer' du

narrateur) tre important pour la prsentation de 'l'histoire' qui se
droule dans l'univers f i c t i f : le rapport entre la structuration de l'ES
et celle de 'l'histoire' est troit dans La Jacquerie de Mrime, dans
Lorenzaccio et dans Ruy Blas, et change considrablement d'une pice
l'autre.

Comme on l' dj fait pour le texte narratif et le point de vue, il

faudra donc, travers des analyses plus approfondies de textes
concrets, dvelopper des concepts qui puissent prciser la fonction de
l'ES et systmatiser les variations de perspective et les structurations
de 'l'histoire' auxquelles contribue l'ES.

1.3.2. L'importance ainsi accorde l'ES n'implique pas, videmment,

que celui-ci dtermine, seul ou totalement, la structuration de l'uni
vers fictif du texte; cet gard, l'ES n'est ni plus ni moins impor
tant que le N ( q u i , bien qu'il y fixe le mme point de vue, n'empche
pas Le rouge et le noir et La chartreuse de Parme d'tre des textes
bien diffrents).
 263

Mais poser l'ES comme une notion centrale dans la dfinition du texte
dramatique comme on fait du N dans celle du texte narratif, permet
de faire ressortir, dans une vue d'ensemble et sans privligier l'un
ou l'autre des deux types de texte, d'autres diffrences qui les
opposent et qui peuvent contribuer caractriser les possibilits
diffrentes (de fonctionnement ou d'utilisation) auxquelles ils donnent
lieu dans la situation de lecture, - et ventuellement de faire un
choix parmi les diffrences qui servent habituellement distinguer les
deux types.

Ainsi l'oppostion entre une 'srie grammaticale': j e - t u laquelle est

soumis le il, admise dans la T D , et une autre srie: il dont le je et le
t u sont les formes marques, admise dans le TN (Saraiva 1974: 7)
peut tre considre comme un rsultat de la prsence et de l'exclu
sion rciproque de l'ES ou du N, en tant que 'grille' qui conditionne
l'ide, ou la conception que le lecteur peut se faire de l'univers fictif
du texte: l'ES n'admet pas la fonction d"intermdiaire-rfrant' que
requiert la seconde srie (le 'discours indirect la troisime per
sonne'); le N ne peut 's'effacer' et devenir le 'support neutre' que
requiert la premire srie (le 'discours direct la premire personne').
De mme l'opposition entre un 'prsent scnique' et un 'pass narratif'
(ou plutt un 'pass-prsent narratif') (cf. Njgaard 1978: 65-68)
peut tre ramene celle entre l'ES et le N pour les mmes raisons:
le premier n'admet pas le 'ddoublement temporal' caractristique du
T N , et le second n'accepte pas la 'relation atemporale' qui existe dans
le TD entre le 'point d'accs' et le reste de l'univers f i c t i f .

Enfin, la prsence dans un texte donn d'une 'didascalie dramatique'

ou d'une 'descritpion narrative' peut servir de critre lorsqu'il faut
dterminer si le texte appartient respectivement la classe des TD ou
celle des TN (Ruffini 1978: 110), mais seulement si cette opposition,
qui appartient au niveau des noncs, est vue comme indication, ou
manifestation, d'une opposition entre la prsence, respectivement,
d'un ES ou d'un N au niveau de l'univers f i c t i f . Il ne suffit pas de
dfinir le rapport diffrentiel 'didascalie vs description' en le con-
 264

sidrant comme parallle l'opposition greimasienne 'condensation vs

expansion' (Ruffini 1978: 113), parce que cela signifie ne tenir compte
que du seul niveau des noncs; c'est probablement pour cette raison
que le critre qui en rsulte se rvle insuffisant devant bon nombre
de (passages de) textes concrets, c.--d. ne permet pas de les
caractriser comme dramatiques ou narratifs, ni de rendre compte de
cas, plus rares, o un (extrait d'un) texte semble tre dramatique et
narratif, ainsi certains passages de Questa sera si recita a soggetto
de Pirandello ou Dtruire, dit-elle de Marguerite Duras, o la note
place la fin ne peut que surprendre.

D'autres diffrences encore doivent tre cartes comme non p e r t i

nentes ou incompatibles avec la conception propose ici.

Ainsi on ne dfinira pas le texte dramatique par l'absence d'un narra

teur, dfinition peu satisfaisante parce que seulement 'ngative' et
parce qu'elle fait apparatre le texte dramatique comme une rduction
par rapport au texte narratif. On ne se servira pas non plus de
l'opposition entre narrateur et dramaturge: la prsence de l'un ou de
l'autre dans un texte respectivement narratif ou dramatique a des
effets qui sont tout fait diffrents et qui ne permettent pas d'ta
blir le parallelisme que l'opposition prsuppose; le dramaturge, en
effet, n'appartient pas, comme le narrateur, l'univers f i c t i f du texte
et ses interventions, d'ailleurs exceptionnelles, s'adressent aux ac
teurs d'une ventuelle reprsentation scnique de cet univers et ne
regardent pas les personnages de celui-ci (cf. Jansen 1977b: 60, et
l'analyse des Sei personaggi plus loin). Pour la mme raison, on
acceptera difficilement, dans la perspective adopte i c i , la conception
qui dfinit les didascalies du texte dramatique comme une sorte d ' i n
structions d'emploi' (Njgaard 1978: 66): cela soumettrait entirement
le texte dramatique la reprsentation scnique et nierait la possibi
lit d'une lecture du premier comparable celle d'un texte narratif.
Dans ce cas, Rodrigue et les rues de Sville devraient apparatre,
au lecteur, comme un acteur travesti en Rodrigue au milieu de cou
lisses reprsentant Sville et non pas comme un personnage dans un
 265

univers fictif (comme il l'aurait fait s'il avait t prsent travers

un texte narratif); mais nous ne pensons pas qu'il soit ainsi -
moins qu'il s'agisse d'une lecture trs spcialise.

1.4. La comparaison entre le texte dramatique et le texte narratif

pourrait tre poursuivie et il en ressortirait sans doute d'autres
caractristiques importantes de l'un et de l'autre type de texte.

Ici pourtant, nous voudrions, avant de donner un exemple de l ' u t i

lisation de ces concepts, terminer avec quelques observations qui re
gardent le seul texte dramatique.

L l'espace scnique sera d'abord considr comme un lment appar

tenant la catgorie de l'espace. Si l'on regarde l'espace de l'univers
fictif du texte dramatique dans son ensemble, l'espace scnique y
apparat comme une partie seulement de celui-ci, distinct mais en
mme temps constituant prsuppos d'une autre partie qui se prsente
comme 'I ' environnement' de l'espace scnique ou comme l'espace aux
lments duquel on peut rfrer, et seulement rfrer, partir de
l'espace scnique.

Ainsi, il y aura toujours, dans l'espace de l'univers fictif du texte

dramatique, une division en un espace scnique et un espace envi
ronnant/rfr, les deux s'opposant en ce sens que l'un et l'autre
confrent aux lments (choses, personnages ou vnements) qui y
sont placs, un 'mode d'existence' (au sens o l'ensemble de l'univers
fictif existe) tout fait diffrent: le spectre paternel dans Hamlet et
les sorcires dans Macbeth existent d'une autre faon que l'me d'Hec
tor et Astyanax dans Andromaque, Vnus et le monstre marin dans
Phdre; de mme l'arme des Maures dans Le Cid a une existence
diffrente de celle qu'acquiert les armes de Richmond et de Richard
dans les scnes finales de Richard I I I . (On ne trouvera pas une telle
distinction, gnralement valable, entre deux espaces et deux modes
d'existence divers dans le texte n a r r a t i f . )

Dans tous les textes dramatiques, il y aura donc un espace scnique

qui s'oppose un espace environnant/rfr; d'un texte l'autre, la
 266

limite, ou la distance qui les spare peut tre plus ou moins nette,
plus ou moins absolue ou infranchissable: elle n'est pas la mme dans
Ruy Blas et Brnice, dans Huis clos et Fin de partie.

Ces variations sont le rsultat de facteurs multiples et trs diff

rents que le manque de place ne permet pas de relever ici (mais il
faudra le faire parce qu'il s'agit sans doute d'une caractristique
formelle fondamentale et importante pour la lecture du t e x t e ) . Un de
ces facteurs pourtant sera mentionn ci puisqu'il s'agit d'une autre
caractristique fondamentale de l'espace scnique, savoir la possi
bilit qu'a celui-ci de se prsenter sous forme d'un seul lieu scnique
(ce qui peut contribuer renforcer la limite nette et permanente
entre espace scnique et espace rfr) ou bien de comprendre p l u
sieurs lieux scniques diffrents, qui se prsentent le plus souvent
successivement (de sorte qu'un lieu scnique un moment donn peut
passer de l'espace rfr l'espace scnique ou inversement), mais
parfois simultanment (dans la dure de l'univers f i c t i f ) comme dans
Tambours et trompettes de Brecht (cf. Jansen 1973: 284-287). Il va
de soi qu'il y aura bien d'autres choses dire sur cette notion de
lieu scnique, mais nous nous limitons ici le prsenter brivement;
l'exemple qui suit permettra de le dvelopper un peu plus.

2. L'espace scnique dans les 'Sei personaggi in cerca d'autore' de

Pirandello

2.O. Comme on sait, les Sei personaggi existent dans plusieurs ver
sions trs diffrentes les unes des autres. Nous tudierons deux de
ces versions, la premire et la dernire, afin de dterminer la forme
et la fonction de l'espace scnique dans cette pice, et pour montrer
comment les notions que nous venons de dfinir peuvent tre utilises
dans l'analyse d'un texte concret. Puisque l'ordre dans lequel les
deux versions ont t crites ne nous intresse pas i c i , nous les
appelerons simplement la version A (la premire) et la version (la
dernire) .
 267

2 . 1 . L'espace scnique et le lecteur

2 . 1 . 1 . Aprs le t i t r e , l'habituelle liste des personnages et l'indication

gnrale du lieu, suivie d'une note un peu moins habituelle sur la re
prsentation f u t u r e de la pice, le texte des Sei personaggi commence
ainsi:

"Troveranno gli spettatori, entrando nella sala del teatro, levato

il sipario e il palcoscenico com' di giorno, senza quinte e senza
scena, quasi bujo e vuoto, perch fin da principio abbiano l'im
pressione d'uno spettacolo non preparato." ( A , 7 ; B,49).

Ce premier paragraphe du texte ( q u i , part le "levato" qui change

en "alzato", est identique d'une version l'autre) ne semble pas
donner des indications concernant directement l'espace scnique et
l'univers fictif fond sur celui-ci; ce sont encore, comme la liste des
personnages et l'indication gnrale qui prcdent, des indications sur
le spectacle f u t u r et le thtre o il aura lieu. Nous dirons que ces
noncs se rapportent au dramaturge; nous reviendrons cette no
t i o n . Si les premires lignes avaient t plus habituelles (par exemple
"La scne reprsente la scne d'un thtre, de jour, presque noire et
vide, ..."), le lecteur aurait pu immdiatement se figurer le 'lieu
scnique' de la pice, et ces noncs se seraient rapports l'espace
scnique de l'univers f i c t i f .

Mais dj, pourtant, le "com'" et surtout la dernire phrase (la pro

position finale) doivent veiller les 'soupons' du lecteur, puisqu'ils
impliquent que les indications prcdentes ne sont pas seulement une
description du thtre rel, mais aussi celle d'une scne de thtre et
d'un spectacle (en ralit bien prpar) qui appartiennent un u n i
vers f i c t i f .

Et c'est justement peu peu, presque imperceptiblement, que les

indications qui se rapportent au dramaturge font place des indica
tions se rapportant l'espace scnique, et qu'ainsi le texte 'fait
passer' le lecteur du thtre rel dont il est question au dbut du
texte au thtre de fiction qui sera le lieu scnique de la pice: la
nombre croissant de dtails concernant les lments spatiaux d'abord,
 268

les indications des entres et des mouvements et gestes des acteurs

ensuite, et enfin les rpliques attribues ceux-ci rendent de plus
en plus vident qu'il s'agit d'une scne de thtre fictive et d'ac
teurs-personnages f i c t i f s .

Une fois fix le caractre f i c t i f de la scne de thtre prsente par

le texte, ce caractre reste, dans la version A ( p a r t , peut-tre,
une ' r u p t u r e ' lors de l'entre des six personnages), clair et sans
quivoque jusqu' la fin de la pice, et cet univers fictif garde tou
jours une dlimitation prcise par rapport l'univers rel du lec
teur. En ce sens, la scne d'un thtre telle qu'elle se prsente dans
la version A, ne se distingue pas, en tant que lieu scnique, du
salon bourgeois, par exemple, de tant de pices naturalistes.

Dans la version B, le rapport entre l'univers rel du lecteur et l'uni

vers fictif du texte ne s'tablit pas sur une distinction aussi claire et
vidente; le lecteur y trouve une certaine 'confusion' entre la scne
fictive que lui prsente le texte, et une scne factuelle, savoir la
scne o pourra avoir lieu une ventuelle reprsentation scnique de
la pice, et qui donc pourra faire partie de son univers rel. Cela
semble d en premier lieu un t r a i t particulier.

2.1.2. La version A, aprs la description initiale de la scne de

thtre d'abord relle puis f i c t i v e , passe, dans les didascalies, de
l'emploi du f u t u r ("troveranno") celui du prsent:

II direttore: [ . . . ] Per piacere, faccia calare e accendere una

bilancia. Il trovarobe (alzandosi): Subito, sissignore (si reca a
dar l'ordine). [ . . . ] Il direttore (balzando in piedi sulle f u r i e ) :
[ . . . ] (Gli attori ridono. E allora egli, alzandosi e venendo pres
so il primo attore g r i d a ) : [ . . . ] (Gli attori tornano a rdere e si
mettono a far commenti tra loro ironicamente)." ( A , 8 et 11)

La version B garde l'emploi du f u t u r comme temps principal durant

toute la pice:

"Il capocomico: [ . . . ] Per piacere, faccia dare un po' di luce. II

direttore di scena: Subito (Si recher a dar l'ordine.) [ . . . ] II
capocomico (Balzando in piedi sulle f u r i e ) : [ . . . ] (Gli attori r i
deranno. E allora egli, alzandosi e venendo presso il primo at-
 269

tore, g r i d e r ) : [ . . . ] (Gli attori torneranno a ridere e si mette

ranno a far commenti tra loro ironicamente)." ( B , 5 0 et 53)

Cet emploi du f u t u r comme temps verbal principal des didascalies a

pour rsultat que le lieu scnique et les vnements qui s'y d
roulent, et avec eux l'univers f i c t i f , changent de 'place' par rapport
au lecteur, et alors en quelque sorte de 'caractre': si l'univers fictif
est, dans A, prsent pour le lecteur et qu'il doive par consquent
tre imagin par lui dans l'acte de lecture, il est, dans B, f u t u r et
donc possible (de la mme faon que peut l'tre une manifestation
f u t u r e au moment o on en lit l'annonce ou le programme). Il en r
sulte que l'univers textuel des Sei personaggi apparat dans comme
s'il tait moins fictif et plus factuel que dans A, et la dlimitation de
cet univers, qui n'en reste pas moins fictif puisque c'est un texte
dramatique, par rapport l'univers rel du lecteur se fait moins
prcise.

Cherchons expliciter les raisons de cette diffrence.

2.1.3. Normalement, le temps verbal principal d'un texte dramatique

est le prsent. Si le f u t u r y est employ, ct du prsent, il ex
prime habituellement des rapports temporels l'intrieur de l'univers
f i c t i f , comme par e x . :

"Poco dopo, mentre s'inizia la prova, si vedr abbassare la bilan

cia accesa. Il direttore (battendo le mani) Su, su [ . . . ] (Siede
sulla poltrona). Gli attori e le attrici sgombreranno il davanti del
palcoscenico e andranno a [ . . . ] . " ( A , 8 )

Parfois, mais bien moins souvent, le f u t u r peut faire de l'nonc o il

apparat une indication qui se rapporte au spectacle f u t u r et non pas
l'univers fictif, comme dans la premire ligne du texte, cite plus
haut; l'emploi du f u t u r ici a un effet semblable celui qu'il a dans
les rpliques au dbut de la pice:

Il direttore: [ . . . ] Di qua, la cucina. (Rivolgendosi all'attore che

far la parte di Socrate). Lei entrer e uscir di qua. (Al T r o
varobe). Applicher la bussola in fondo, e metter le tendine.
(Torna a sedere)." ( A , 9 )
 270

Si l'emploi du f u t u r , ct du prsent, 'dplace' l'attention du lec

teur (comme le "troveranno" du dbut) de l'univers fictif au spectacle
futur (lui fait voir les trtaux la place du lieu scnique, des ac
teurs au lieu de personnages), on peut dire qu'il y a 'rupture de
l'illusion', c.-.-d. ces noncs au f u t u r font apparatre l'univers
fictif explicitement comme une 'illusion', cre et non pas ( r e ) p r
sente, par les noncs du texte (ou par les acteurs pour qui ces
noncs sont des instructions).

L'exemple de la rplique du directeur montre comment ces noncs

peuvent tre interprts comme interventions de la part d'un drama
turge, et comment la prsence de celui-ci a pour effet de 'rompre
l'illusion'. On peut alors prciser que ce dramaturge, en tant qu'l
ment d'un modle de la structure du texte dramatique, se place, con
trairement l'espace scnique, en dehors de l'univers f i c t i f , ce qui
signifie qu'il ne peut pas, comme l'espace scnique contribuer la
structuration de celui-ci; mais il peut influencer le rapport q u i ,
travers l'espace scnique, s'tablit entre le lecteur et l'univers f i c t i f .

Parfois on peut se demander, dans la version A, s'il faut attribuer au

f u t u r l'une ou l'autre de ces deux fonctions, ou effets; ainsi devant
les 'portraits' des six personnages: "La madre sar come atterita ..."
ou "La figliastra, di diciott'anni, sar spavalda ..." (A,13; B,55):
est-ce que l'emploi du f u t u r ici 'place' l'apparition des personnages
par rapport la rplique du directeur qui prcde la longue descrip
tion de leur entre (comme le font le "sgombreranno" et le "andranno"
dans le passage cit plus haut)? Ou bien fait-il de cette description
de chacun des personnages une instruction pour les f u t u r s acteurs
(de la part d'un dramaturge, comme les "Note per la rappresenta
zione" au dbut du Piacere dell'onest, ou la description jointe la
liste des personnages dans la premire version de Cos (se vi
pare), ou celle que Vigny met en tte du volume de Chatterton)?
Cette ambigut ne pourra probablement pas tre rsolue dfinitive
ment, et laissera sans doute le lecteur indcis ce moment de la
lecture.
 271

2.1.4. Lorsque le prsent est remplac par le f u t u r comme temps

verbal principal dans les didascalies, comme cela arrive dans la ver
sion B, la diffrence, ou l'opposition prsent vs f u t u r disparat et
avec elle les effets produits par l'emploi du f u t u r dans un texte d r a
matique normal, tel que la version A; il n'y a pas de 'ddoublement'
personnage f i c t i f / a c t e u r , ni non plus d'opposition entre univers fictif
et spectacle, comme rsultat de l'emploi de ce f u t u r 'gnralis'.

Reste quand-mme la valeur gnrique, ou grammaticale, de l'emploi

du f u t u r , savoir ci que lorsque toutes les actions sont prsentes
par des f u t u r s , cela place les personnages fictifs auxquels sont a t t r i
bues ces actions, dans un rapport avec le lecteur qui ressemble
celui qu'il peut avoir avec des personnes relles, lorsqu'il lit une
description de leur participation un vnement f u t u r .

Oppos au texte avec l'emploi du prsent, le texte avec l'emploi du

f u t u r gnralis introduit alors une sorte de distance entre le lecteur
et l'univers fictif, qui n'est pas identique une distance entre le
prsent et l'avenir (telle qu'on la trouve dans l'univers rel), mais
qui contribue donner l'univers fictif un caractre d"univers pos
sible' - diffrent de celui d"univers imagin' qu'il a sans cette dis
tance, comme dans la version A.

La distance 's'installe' donc dans le rapport entre texte et lecteur, en

dehors de l'univers f i c t i f , et on pourrait sans doute dire qu'elle est
fonde sur la prsence d'un dramaturge, mais qui apparat alors tout
autrement ici que dans les cas relevs dans la version A: la distance
en effet 'cache' sa prsence, et il n'y a pas ici de ' r u p t u r e de l'illu
sion'.

Cela apparat aussi clairement si l'on confronte ces noncs au f u t u r

avec les noncs q u i , dans cette version B, ont cet effet (et qui donc
correspondent aux noncs au f u t u r de la version A ) , savoir des
noncs comme "sar bene che [ . . . ] siano [ . . . ] . A un certo punto,
uno dei comici potr sedere ...", ou bien "Chi voglia tentare una
traduzione scenica di questa commedia bisogna che . . . " ( B , 5 0 et 54).
 272

Ce sont l des instructions qui disent, non pas comment ou quel est
l'univers f i c t i f , mais comment il doit t r e reprsent sur une scne de
t h e a t r e , et q u i , en introduisant l'opposition entre spectacle et univers
fictif, 'dvoilent' le caractre d"illusion' de ce d e r n i e r ; et cela peut
se faire seulement si cet univers a dja t t a b l i , construit par les
autres noncs, au f u t u r .

Ces interventions du dramaturge se r e t r o u v e n t donc dans les deux

versions, bien que ce soit a t r a v e r s des noncs de forme d i f f r e n t e .
On note que dans les deux, elles se t r o u v e n t surtout au dbut,
c.-a.-d. jusqu'a l'entre des personnages; aprs il n'y a plus de
'ruptures de l'illusion'; mme les entractes, qui normalement font
passer le lecteur de l'univers fictif au spectacle, se p r s e n t e n t , dans
les deux versions, de faon a tre parfaitement intgrs dans l'uni
vers fictif. L'univers f i c t i f , avec son caractre p r o p r e , 'imagin' dans
la version A, 'possible' dans la version B, se prsente donc d'une
manire qui devient de moins en moins ambigue (relativement a l'oppo
sition fiction vs illusion) au cours de la lecture parce que le rapport
'mtaphorique' entre le t e x t e et le lecteur, tabli a t r a v e r s l'espace
scnique seul, n'est plus sujet a des 'mises en question' comme celles
qui caractrisent les premires pages du t e x t e .

2.1.5. Comme on l'a not a u p a r a v a n t , a propos de la version A , le

fait que le lieu scnique soit la scne d'un t h t r e fictif n'influence
pas en soi Ie rapport entre le texte et le lecteur ; ce qui importe,
c'est la faon de prsenter ce lieu scnique, c . - a . - d . la 'perspective'
qui rsulte de l'emploi de l'espace scnique.

C'est pour prciser cette problmatique que nous voudrions, avant de

passer a l'examen de quelques exemples ayant t r a i t a la structuration
'interne' de l'univers f i c t i f , relever une d e r n i r e diffrence entre les
deux versions: a premire v u e , elle p o u r r a i t sembler lie a la 'perspec
tive', mais a y voir de plus prs elle regarde la structuration de
l'univers fictif dont il sera question ensuite.
 273

Dans la version A , passe la premire ligne, cite plus h a u t , il n'est

plus question de spectateurs ni de salle de t h t r e : le t e x t e prsente
donc le lieu scnique, figur par l'espace scnique, comme la scne
d'un thtre fictif nettement distincte de la salle factuelle dont il tait
question au d b u t . En analysant le niveau des noncs, on pourrait
peut-tre mme aller jusqu' dire que, 'retrospectivement' (!), le
"Troveranno gli spettatore, entrando nella sala del teatro" initial
(avec le f u t u r et la rfrence un univers factuel) devient une v a
riation seulement, plus 'spcifiante', d'un nonc plus normal tel que
"au d b u t , on voit la scne telle ...".

La version B, par c o n t r e , ne cesse d'voquer la salle de thtre tout

le long du t e x t e et la fin elle introduit aussi le foyer de c e l u i - c i .
Le lecteur p o u r r a i t , un instant, tre induit ne pas y voir de d i f f
rence, mais il s'apercevrait assez vite qu'il ne s'agit pas par la suite
de la mme salle qu'au d b u t : c'est une salle v i d e , sans spectateurs,
pendant la j o u r n e , au moment des rptitions et non pas le soir au
moment du spectacle; c'est, comme dans la version A, un thtre
fictif distinct du thtre factuel du d b u t .

Du point du vue de la l e c t u r e , cette diffrence entre les deux ver

sions est alors une diffrence qui ne regarde pas la 'perspective'
(dtermine par une faon d'employer l'espace scnique par rapport
au l e c t e u r ) , mais la manire selon laquelle l'espace scnique s t r u c t u r e
l'univers f i c t i f , l'aide du lieu scnique dont il prend la forme: dans
A, la scne d'un thtre f i c t i f ; dans B, la scne, la salle et le foyer
d'un t h t r e f i c t i f .

Ce qui peut influencer la 'perspective', dans la version B, ce n'est

donc pas l'inclusion mme de la salle dans l'espace scnique; c'est le
passage de la salle + la scne d'un t h t r e factuel la salle + la scne
d'un t h t r e f i c t i f , passage qui donc a le mme effet que le passage,
dans la version A, de l'emploi du f u t u r l'emploi du prsent. La
diffrence qu'il y a l est celle entre un t r a i t qui appartient au niveau
de l'univers textuel et un t r a i t qui appartient au niveau des non-
. 8
ces .
 274

2.2. L'espace scnique et l'univers fictif

2.2.1. L'univers fictif des Sei personaggi se prsente au lecteur

comme un univers 'double': il apparat comme form de deux mondes
diffrents et distincts, c . - . - d . sans une dimension commune, spatiale
ou temporelle: celui des acteurs et celui des personnages. Dans les
deux versions, l'opposition entre ces deux mondes est formule ou
prsente avant tout comme une oppposition entre un caractre ra
liste, ou rel du monde des acteurs et un caractre fantastique, sur
rel du monde des personnages. Mais d'une version l'autre, les
lments du texte, et donc aussi l'espace de l'univers fictif prsentent
diffremment cette opposition entre caractre rel et caractre surrel
et la relation qui s'tablit entre les deux mondes. La diffrence entre
les deux versions cet gard apparat de la faon la plus vidente
la fin de la pice.

Dans la version A, la pice se termine ainsi:

"Alcuni a t t o r i : Davvero! davvero! Morto! morto! A l t r i a t t o r i : No!
Finzione! Non creda! Finzione! Finzione! Il padre (con un grido
altissimo): Ma che finzione! Realt, realt, signori! (accorre dis
peratamente anche l u i ) . direttore: Finzione! realt! Andate al
diavolo t u t t i quanti! Non mi mai capitata una cosa simile! E mi
hanno fatto perdere una giornata! TELA" ( A , 141).

Dans la version , la pice ne s'arrte pas cette rplique; l'action

se poursuit travers des situations (ou 'tableaux') o apparaissent
les quatre personnages (c.-.-d. moins les deux enfants) d'abord
comme ombres dans une lumire trange, surrelle, qui fait f u i r le
directeur t e r r i f i , ensuite seuls comme personnages dans un jeu muet
o la mre, sous le regard du pre, essaie vainement d'aborder le
f i l s , tandis que la belle-fille s'enfuit, travers la salle et le foyer
(par o ils sont entrs), avec un rire strident qui s'entend jusqu'
ce que le rideau tombe (B,116).
Du point de vue qui nous intresse i c i , l'utilisation de l'espace sc
nique, ces deux manires de terminer la pice donnent lieu aux re
marques suivantes.
 275

2.2.2. Dans la version A, le monde des acteurs occupe entirement,

lui seul, l'espace scnique, tandis que le monde des personnages
occupe, de la mme faon, M'espace environnant': autour du thtre,
dont la scne est la partie du monde des acteurs reprsente par
l'espace scnique, il n'y a rien: pas de rues, pas de maisons, pas de
v i l l e ; et, inversement, les nombreux lments spatiaux du monde des
personnages (deux villes, une place devant une cole, la boutique de
Madame Pace, e t c . ) se trouvent tous placs dans l'espace environnant
et ne sont prsents au lecteur qu' travers les rfrences que le
personnages ( y comprise Madame ) font lorsqu'ils en parlent ou
en 'crent' une imitation. Lorsque cette version localise ainsi le monde
des acteurs dans l'espace scnique et celui des personnages dans
l'espace environnant, il en rsulte que l'opposition entre les deux
apparat aussi comme une diffrenciation dans leur mode d"existence
(dramatique)': l'existence mme du monde des personnages dpend de
ce qui se passe dans celui des acteurs.

Dans la version B, la fin du texte prsente directement le monde des

personnages, reprsent par un lieu scnique qui forme une partie de
l'espace scnique (la scne, ct de la salle et du f o y e r ) . Ainsi
l'espace scnique comprend, dans cette version, deux lieux scniques
diffrents qui figurent l'un et l'autre monde, et c'est partir de
cette diffrenciation que prend forme l'opposition entre les deux,
tandis qu'il n'y a pas de diffrence entre leurs modes d"existence':
une fois accepte l"existence' de l'univers fictif dont ils font partie,
celle de l'un des mondes ne dpend pas de celle de l'autre, comme
dans la version A. C'est partir de cette diffrenciation premire
entre les deux mondes, diffrente d'une version l'autre, que se
construit la prsentation du caractre spcifique de chacun des deux.
Dans les deux versions, le monde des acteurs apparat comme rel,
parce qu'il occupe l'espace scnique, parce qu'il n'a pas de traits
particulirement 'anormaux' et, surtout probablement, parce qu'il
s'oppose, dans les deux, au monde des personnages. C'est donc par
la prsentation du caractre spcifique de celui-ci que les deux ver
sions se distinguent.
 276

Dans la version A, le monde des personnages apparat comme surrel

t r a v e r s , et seulement travers un caractre surrel attribu aux
personnages c . - . - d . par ce qu'ils font ou ce qu'ils disent. Lors de
leur entre, il est question, il est v r a i , d'un t r a i t surrel exterieur
qui ne dpend pas d'eux-mmes: "una strana tenuissima luce [...]
lieve respiro della loro realt fantastica" ( A , 1 2 ) ; mais cette lumire
disparat aussitt et n'est plus mentionne pour les caractriser. En
effet, c'est un autre t r a i t , qui semble moins indpendant de la menta
lit des personnages que la lumire trange, qui constamment et de la
faon la plus vidente rend manifeste leur caractre non rel, savoir
un contraste entre la connaissance prcise et dtaille que possdent
le pre et la belle-fille sur la conclusion de leur drame (la mort des
deux enfants) et la prsence des deux enfants qui ne sont pas encore
morts; il y a l un vnement dans 'l'histoire' des personnages qui
est la fois pass (parce qu'il est dj connu) et f u t u r (parce qu'il
n'a pas encore eu lieu), et en ce sens irrductible une explication
rationnelle, valable dans un monde rel (et d'ailleurs d'autant plus
'anormal', pour le lecteur, qu'aucun des acteurs ne semblent s'tonner
de cette connaissance prcise du f u t u r qu'ont les personnages, tandis
que le directeur s'tonne, par contre, du veuvage de la mre).

Dans la version B, le caractre surrel se prsente aussi, comme dans

A , travers le caractre surrel des personnages. Mais d'une part on
note que ce caractre est i c i , par rapport A, en quelque sorte plus
'extrioris': soit dans la description, bien plus dtaille, de leur
aspect extrieur lors de leur entre (mme si cette description consti
tue une intervention de la part du dramaturge et qu'il ne soit plus
question de cette aspect extrieur dans la suite), soit dans la rac
tion bien plus forte des acteurs devant l'apparition de Madame Pace et
du directeur devant celle des personnages la f i n : ici ils sont t e r r i
fis, dans A ils sont tonns, amuss ou irrits (et dans une certaine
mesure, qualitative et quantitative, cette raction plus forte des
'autres' remplace le contraste cre par l'trange connaissance du f u t u r
des personnages qui s'exprime bien moins souvent ci que dans A ) ;
d'autre p a r t , il est sans doute plus important, plus 'convaincant', de
 277

voir directement ce caractre surrel de leur monde t r a v e r s le lieu

scnique, indpendamment des personnages de la mme faon que le
caractre rel du monde des acteurs se prsente comme tel indpen
damment de c e u x - c i . En e f f e t , i c i , la f i n , c'est le caractre surrel
du lieu scnique qui rend les personnages s u r r e l s , et non pas l'in
verse comme cela a t le cas j u s q u ' i c i .

2.2.3. A cette diffrence dans l'utilisation de l'espace scnique qui

caractrise la fin des deux versions, sont lis d'autres lments qui
contribuent galement diffrencier plus indirectement, d'une version
l'autre, la prsentation de la relation e n t r e les deux mondes.

Ainsi, en mme temps que l'espace scnique la fin de la version

prsente pour la premire fois directement le monde des personnages,
c'est aussi la premire fois dans cette version que les personnages
apparaissent seuls, indpendamment des a c t e u r s , dans l'espace sc
nique. Cela a pour effet d'abord un renforcement du caractre excep
tionnel de cette apparition du monde s u r r e l , ensuite une structuration
de la composition, et de l'action, de la pice qui fait correspondre ces
dernires situations aux premires, o les acteurs apparaissent seuls
dans leur monde e u x , avant que les personnages viennent les ' d
ranger'. Et si l'on compare ces premires situations dans les deux
versions, on remarque comment le caractre spcifique, t h t r a l , du
monde des acteurs ressort avec beaucoup plus de dtails dans que
dans A - comme le fait le caractre surrel du monde des personnages
la f i n .

Cette correspondance e n t r e le dbut et la fin ne se t r o u v e pas dans

la version A; ici c'est une rplique du directeur qui commence et
termine l'action de la pice. Il y a dans cette version aussi des situa
tions o les acteurs apparaissent seuls (au d b u t ) , et des situations
o les personnages apparaissent seuls. Mais ces dernires situations
se t r o u v e n t au milieu de la pice, au dbut du second 'acte' et elles
se passent dans le monde des a c t e u r s ; en outre ce sont deux situations
spares, par la scne de l'interruption du directeur et du p r e , et
 278

auxquelles ce dernier ne participe donc pas: dans la premire appa

raissent les deux enfants et la belle-fille qui raconte et mime la conclu
sion de leur drame; dans la seconde situation apparaissent la mre et
le fils dans un petit dialogue o les didascalies et les rpliques ex
priment et expliquent leur attitude: le dsespoir de la mre et le
refus du fils causs par cet vnement choquant: la rencontre entre
le pre et la belle-fille, qu'ils ne peuvent accepter, l'un de connatre,
l'autre de voir reprsent d'autres. Ainsi, les situations o les
personnages apparaissent seuls, donnent voir ici non pas tant l'oppo
sition entre les deux mondes, mais plutt des lments essentiels du
drame des personnages: elles montrent au milieu de la pice, spar
ment et sans la prsence du pre, l'vnement f u t u r qui concluera ce
drame et l'vnement pass qui l'a fait natre.

Si l'on compare les deux versions, on peut dire que ces deux situa
tions se trouvent aussi dans la version B, mais que, dplaces et mo
difies par rapport la version A, elles ont ici une autre fonction,
ou un autre effet dans la lecture. La tirade de la belle-fille est int
gre dans un dialogue avec le directeur et elle fait ainsi partie des
prparatifs de la fin de la reprsentation-rptition organise par ce
dernier; la scne avec la mre et le f i l s , on la retrouve comme une
des situations de la f i n : les didascalies les font voir dans la mme
attitude de refus et de dsespoir, mais il n'y a pas de rpliques, et
donc pas d'explication, par l'vnement pass, de leur attitude, et de
plus ils agissent sous le regard du pre; la scne montre donc, avec
les autres situations de la f i n , comment les personnages conduisent
eux-mmes leur drame sa conclusion dans leur monde surrel (aprs
la mort des enfants) sans l'intermdiaire (recherch ou ralis) des
acteurs.

2.2.4. Enfin, c'est une diffrence en soi, et qui s'ajoute aux autres
dj releves, que d'une version l'autre celui qui a le 'dernier mot'
ou plus exactement occupe l'espace scnique dans la dernire situation
de la pice change: c'est le directeur ou les personnages.
 279

Le conflit de base dans la s t r u c t u r e dramatique des Sei personaggi

- celui qui oppose le groupe des acteurs et le groupe des person
nages - se place dans une perspective diffrente selon que l'un ou
l'autre des protagonistes est prsent et dtermine la 'vie dramatique'
9
qu'aura celui qui est absent au moment de la fin de la piece .

Lorsque, dans la version A , le pre sort, dsespr, en c o u r a n t , et

que le directeur reste seul, c'est ce dernier qui passe au premier
plan et ce qui s'est pass est vu p a r t i r de l u i : son monde revient
maintenant la normalit, et l'apparition qu'y font les personnages,
pour trange qu'elle ait t , devient, vue travers la raction du
directeur, presque une 'visite' comme une autre sans grandes cons
quences. Lorsque, dans la version B, par c o n t r e , c'est le directeur
qui s'enfuit, terrifi, et laisse la place aux personnages, leur monde
passe en premier et 'rejette' celui des acteurs au second plan: aprs
avoir essay, longuement mais sans succs, d'avoir une vie dans le
monde r e l , ils russissent enfin s'y manifester indpendamment des
acteurs, par une sorte d ' i n t e r r u p t i o n , surrelle, dans le monde rel
qui en chasse les acteurs et presque dchire ce monde.

2.3.1. Pour terminer cet examen de quelques exemples, et de q u e l

ques-uns seulement, tirs du texte des Sei personaggi, nous vou
drions r e t o u r n e r la constatation faite plus h a u t , qu'il se forme dans
cette pice une diffrenciation fondamentale entre le monde des ac
teurs et celui des personnages. Il faut alors d'abord souligner qu'elle
n'est pas exclusivement lie l'emploi de l'espace scnique, mais que
c'est celui-ci que nous nous sommes intress principalement ci
(ainsi le jeu des personnages dans l'pisode de Madame Pace contribue
la diffrenciation d'une faon bien plus complexe que nous n'avons
pu le d i r e i c i ) , et ensuite noter que cette diffrenciation joue un rle
dans l'ensemble qu'est la pice parce qu'elle sert en quelque sorte de
'fond' une seconde diffrenciation s'tablissant entre les deux
groupes (acteurs vs personnages) tels qu'on les voit agir au cours de
la pice dans l'espace scnique. Cette seconde diffrenciation est
fonde sur le conflit qui oppose les deux g r o u p e s , et elle reste essen-
 280

tiellement la mme d'une version l'autre: les oppositions conflic

tuelles entre les six personnages ne changent gure, et dans l'op
position fondamentale (du moins dans la structure formelle de la
pice), le groupe des personnages est, dans les deux versions, por
teur de la "force qui engendre ou oriente tout le reste de la situa
tion" (Souriau 1950: 85), tandis que celui des acteurs reprsente
10
"l'obstacle, l'opposant"

2.3.2. Il est dit par les personnages et par les a c t e u r s , dans les
deux versions, que le conflit entre eux nat d'abord du h e u r t entre
leurs natures, ou essences, fondamentalement diffrentes; indpen
damment du conflit mme, ou paralllement ce qui ressort de celui-
ci, ce contraste est prsent dans A comme une diffrence entre deux
modes d'existence (existence fonde sur (la prsence d')un espace
scnique ou sur les paroles d'un personnage) et dans comme une
diffrence e n t r e deux lieux scniques. Il en rsulte que ce contraste,
en soi et en tant que cause du conflit, apparat de faon moins
voyante, moins vidente dans A que dans B: le lecteur de A peut
parfois t r e amen partager le scepticisme du d i r e c t e u r , c . - . - d .
se demander si les six personnages sont vraiment des tres non rels
ou bien des personnes, comme les a c t e u r s , mais atteintes d'une mme
'folie six' - comparable en quelque sorte celle dont a t atteint le
protagoniste d'Enrico I V . Cela n'arrive pas au lecteur de B.

A cela s'ajoute la diffrence qui concerne plus directement les l

ments mis en o e u v r e , dans l'une et l'autre v e r s i o n , pour dcrire le ou
les lieux scniques qui reprsentent les deux mondes: la version se
distingue de la version A non seulement parce qu'elle multiplie (par
rapport A) les lments qui renforcent et spcifient la fois le
caractre particulier de chacun des deux mondes; le lecteur se
trouve, plus clairement dans que dans A , devant un monde de
t h t r e oppos un monde imaginaire (tous les deux f i c t i f s ) .

Les variations d'une version l'autre influencent aussi la prsentation

de ce qu'on pourrait appeler l'quilibre entre les forces du conflit:
 281

lorsque comme dans A le groupe des personnages ( q u i reprsente la

"force oriente") passe dans un espace scnique 'rserv' au groupe
des acteurs (l'"obstacle") qui occupe seul cet espace avant et aprs le
passages des a u t r e s , ces acteurs et leur t h t r e p e u v e n t , plus facile
ment, apparatre comme un 'cadre', secondaire dans le conflit par
r a p p o r t l'apparition des six personnages, mais ncessaire parce qu'il
leur donne un endroit o ils peuvent venir exposer leur drame; lors
que, comme dans B, l'espace scnique est 'rserv' au porteur de
l""obstacle" au dbut et celui de la "force oriente" la fin de la
pice, cela peut donner, plus facilement, l'impression d'une volution
dans un quilibre entre deux forces opposes dans un conflit qui
n'est pas seulement le s u p p o r t , mais aussi le r s u l t a t , invitable, du
drame des personnages.

Enfin on peut noter que la manire mme d'introduire le lieu scnique

qui reprsente le monde des personnages dans B: imprvue, explo
sive, conclusive (oppose l'absence de ce lieu scnique dans A ) , et
aussi la modification de la ' p e r s p e c t i v e ' , ou du rapport e n t r e lecteur
et univers fictif qui fait de ce dernier un univers apparemment plus
factuel dans que dans A , cela contribue aussi r e n d r e le contraste
e n t r e les deux mondes, et entre les deux g r o u p e s , plus f o r t dans
que dans A : le lecteur de la version pourra avoir davantage que le
lecteur de A l'impression que les acteurs et leur monde sont rels, lui
sont proches et accessibles, tandis que les personnages appartiennent
un monde anormal qui peut ( e t a toujours 'voulu') faire irruption
dans le monde normal des a c t e u r s , ce qui le rend plus inquitant que
lorsqu'il est seulement possible de l'y voquer.

2.3.3. Pour rsumer ces diffrences entre les deux versions, on

peut d i r e , en simplifiant, que les six personnages apparaissent, dans
A, plus comme des (reprsentations d e ) personnes (pas radicalement
diffrentes, peut-tre, des acteurs), qui veulent que le drame de
leur vie t r o u v e une sorte de justification dans la forme stable d'une
fiction artistique, et dans B, plus comme des (reprsentations de)
personnages (absolument diffrents, sans discussion, des acteurs),
 282

qui veulent que leur drame, et eux-mmes, passent d'une fiction

artistique (celle plus imagine de l'auteur) une a u t r e fiction a r t i s
tique (celle plus concrte du t h t r e ) .

Conclusion

3.0. Le point de dpart de cet article tait la situation de lecture.

L'appareil conceptuel que nous avons essay d'esquisser et les con
clusions auxquelles l'analyse du t e x t e de Pirandello est a r r i v e , con
cernent donc la lecture du t e x t e dramatique en gnral et les lectures
possibles du t e x t e des Sei personaggi en particulier (3.1.).

Nous avons d i t , au d b u t , pourquoi nous voulions essayer de ne pas

tenir compte des possibilits que la pice, t r a v e r s la reprsentation
scnique, pourrait o f f r i r au spectateur. Pour conclure nous voudrions
prciser dans quel sens on peut affirmer que le modle propos, et la
ou les analyses qui en r s u l t e n t , n'auront pas pour but de donner une
comprhension du texte qui se fonde sur, ou explique le t e x t e par
son rapport avec l'auteur ( e t / o u son milieu) ( 3 . 2 . ) .

3.1. La conception que nous avons formule plus haut des diff
rences entre les deux version des Sei personaggi et des lectures
possibles de l'une et de l'autre, trouve une confirmation, du moins
partielle, lorsqu'on regarde diffrentes analyses de la pice.

Ainsi, en 1921, donc aprs avoir lu la pice dans la version A,

Adriano Tilgher (1928: 240; cf. aussi Monti 1974: 37-38) et Silvio
D'Amico (1963: 257-258), pour des raisons et avec des conclusions
tout fait opposes, soulignent tous les deux comment les person
nages ont le caractre de personnes humaines.

En 1928, dans une note ajoute la troisime dition, T i l g h e r (1928:

242) nuance son interprtation de la pice: le conflit principal est
maintenant entre le dsir d ' t r e des personnages et les obstacles qui
les condamnent rester e n t r e l'tre et le n o n - t r e ; en 1921, il disait
(p. 238) qu'avec cette pice, Pirandello voulait montrer scniquement
le travail qui fait natre l'oeuvre d ' a r t , le passage de la vie l'art,
 283

de l'impression l'intuition et l'expression. Ce glissement pourrait

bien tre d une lecture de la version au lieu de la version A.

En 1932, D'Amico prsente une nouvelle lecture de la pice; il ne dit

pas s'il se rfre l'une ou l'autre version, mais l'aspect qu'il
soulignait en 1921 est maintenant peine mentionn (D'Amico 1932:
119) et il voit dans la pice la reprsentation d'un problme technique
qui sert exprimer un thme plus universel, celui de l'impossibilit
de la communication entre les hommes ( p . 124).

Une trentaine d'annes plus t a r d , De Castris (1975: 168ss) et Lugnani

(1970: 123ss) donnent des interprtations de la pice o ce qui la
caractrise c'est surtout qu'elle fait du travail cratif de l'artiste,
crivain ou homme de thtre, la reprsentation d'une conception de
la vie humaine; lorsqu'ils parlent du drame des personnages, ce n'est
pas du tout de la mme faon que Tilgher et D'Amico en 1921, et
cela, aussi, aprs avoir lu sans aucun doute la version puisqu'
aucun moment ils ne parlent de versions diffrentes.

Enfin on peut noter que lorsque Lugnani (1970: 125), contrairement

Tilgher et surtout D'Amico en 1921, accentue l'aspect non rel des
personnages, et lui attribue la fonction de dmentir la nature appa
remment bourgeoise de leur drame, il part ( p . 119) d'une analyse de
la didascalie qui dcrit les personnages lors de leur entre, dans
laquelle il relve soit des passages 'littraires' et traditionnels soit
des passages 'thtraux' et modernes qui sont le signe presque d'une
contradiction dans les personnages, et dans Pirandello. Mais ces der
niers passages, considrs par Lugnani comme modernes, recouvrent
assez exactement ceux par lesquels la version se distingue de la
version A.

3.2. Par contre, il serait vain de vouloir chercher une confirmation

de notre description des diffrences entre les deux versions dans
l'volution psychologique, spirituelle, artistique ou politique que Piran
dello parcourt de 1921 (date de la version A) 1925 (date de la ver
sion B ) . En effet, telle que nous l'avons formule, notre conclusion
 284

sur les six personnages - qui de personnes qui veulent ' e n t r e r ' dans
une fiction artistique deviennent personnages qui veulent passer
d'une fiction artistique une autre - reste o u v e r t e , en quelque sorte,
diffrentes explications galement vraisemblables et qui peuvent
aussi parfois s'exclure mutuellement.

Ainsi on pourrait expliquer les diffrences, dans une perspective

formelle, comme des modifications que Pirandello introduit de la p r e
mire version la version d f i n i t i v e , ou bien pour se conformer aux
ides, et critiques, exprimes par Tilgher dans son analyse de la
pice (Moestrup 1 9 6 7 ) , ou bien pour claircir, prciser des intentions
dj prsentes dans la premire version (Klem 1977: 344-411)

Mais on p o u r r a i t aussi se placer dans une perspective psychanalytique

L, on v e r r a i t dans les Sei personaggi la pice o Pirandello pour la
premire fois ose exprimer ses fantasmes inconscients, ses conflits
psychiques les plus cachs, son complexe d'OEdipe, d'une faon
directe, non "dvie" (Gardair 1972: 120; Bouissy 1978: 138). Les
diffrences pourraient alors s'expliquer comme des modifications par
lesquelles Pirandello cherche loigner de l u i , r e n d r e moins 'visible'
la problmatique psychique qu'il a, en ralit, exprime dans le
drame des six personnages, et qui s'est rlve trop "brlante" pour
l u i , trop angoissante (Bouissy 1978: 1 4 0 ) .
Ces deux explications des diffrences telles que nous les avons for
mules, sont indpendantes l'une de l'autre, et premire vue elles
pourraient sembler complmentaires. Mais y r e g a r d e r de plus p r s ,
elles se rvleraient plutt incompatibles comme il ressort des inter
prtations opposes qu'elles donnent de la Prface que Pirandello crit
pour la version d f i n i t i v e : dans la premire perspective, c'est un do
cument qu'il f a u t comprendre et lire la lettre comme une t e n t a t i v e ,
plus ou moins russie, d'expliquer les proccupations ou les intentions
qui se t r o u v e n t d e r r i r e les modifications, tandis qu'elle e s t , dans la
seconde perspective (avec des nuances), un document qui "ne sert
qu' masquer le dsir (de Pirandello) de s'accuser ( d e disculper le
Pre) en public" ( G a r d a i r 1972: 121) et qui donc, pris la l e t t r e , n'a
pas beaucoup de v a l e u r . Donc, mme si les deux explications, prises
 285

chacune en elle-mme, sont galement acceptables, on ne peut pour

tant pas les accepter toutes les deux en mme temps si elles con
duisent des interprtations contraires d'un mme texte.

3.3. Ds lors nous devons admettre que la description que permet la

conception propose ici ne peut pas tre mise en relation, pour tre
confirme ou infirme, avec le rapport texte-auteur puisque dans ce
cas, diffrentes explications incompatibles sont galement possibles, et
elles s'annullent alors l'une l'autre en tant qu'explications; mais la
description peut tre confirme ou non en considrant la relation
texte-lecteur dans la mesure o elle permet ou non d'expliquer les
lectures diffrentes - ici les lectures que Tilgher et D'Amico pr
sentent en 1921 comme des lectures possibles de, et seulement de la
version A, et celles de De Castris et de Lugnani comme des lectures
11
possibles de la version

Notes

1 Cf. la dfinition suivante du terme dfinir: " . . . le thtre de

Pirandello est mis en question l'infini . . . Il s'agit, maintenant,
de savoir si nous pouvons - tout de mme - le dfinir: saisir son
histoire, expliquer ses origines et ses limites." (Baratto 1960:
185).
2 En disant cela, nous excluons certains 'textes' futuristes ou
lettristes, d'un Isodore Isou par exemple, o le rapport 'texte'-
lecteur ne se fonde pas sur un univers textuel puisqu'on n'y
trouve pas de distinction 'contenu vs expression', mais plutt sur
quelque chose qui le rapproche du rapport qui s'tablit entre le
morceau de musique et l'auditeur ou l'image et le spectateur.
3 Avec cette orthographie, nous voudrions donner au mot le sens du
terme allemand 'darstellen': la fois 'reprsenter' et 'prsenter'
(avec la nuance de ' p r o d u i r e ' ) .
4 'Scne abstraite' au sens o l'on parle de 'scne' ou de 'l'autre
scne' dans une certaine psychanalyse; cf. ce propos Manoni
(1969: 161-185).
5 Ces versions ont fait l'objet d'une tude de Moestrup (1967), q u i ,
pour autant que nous sachions, a t le premier attirer l'atten
tion sur l'importance des modifications que la pice subit, t r a -
 286

vers les versions de 1921 1925. Les observations de Moestrup ont

t reprises, discutes et contredites, par Lone Klem, utilises par
Paul Renucci (in Pirandello 1977), et dans une petite communication
que nous avons faite Agrigento (Jansen 1977a). Nous avons
largement utilis ces tudes et interprt leurs rsultats dans la
perspective propose ici. Les renvois se font pour la version A
Pirandello 1921, et pour la version Pirandello 1958.
6 Cette interprtation vaut pour l'emploi du f u t u r en italien, cf. "Il
f u t u r o comune nelle didascalie perch impartisce istruzioni che gli
attori dovranno seguire (dunque f u t u r o con valore di imperativo)
oppure rappresenta l'azione scenica cos come si svolger nel f u t u r o ;
ma comune anche il presente per descrivere lo svolgimento di tale
azione visto come attuale." (Peruzzi 1963: 145; en ralit, le pr
sent est le temps le plus utilis). En franais, il ne semble pas
qu'il en soit ainsi, ce qui explique que dans les deux traductions
franaises de la pice (celle de Crmieux (Pirandello 1950), qui
t r a d u i t la version A, et celle de Michel Arnaud (Pirandello 1977),
qui traduit la version B) la grande majorit des f u t u r s sont t r a
duits par des prsents. Pourtant on note qu'Arnaud traduit les
deux phrases cites plus haut par "La Mre doit tre comme atte-
re . . . " et "La Belle-fille, d i x - h u i t ans, sera effronte . . . "
(Pirandello 1977, 1019) o la premire construction du moins ex
prime clairement qu'il s'agit d'une recommandation ou d'une inter
vention du dramaturge.
7 Que le lieu scnique soit une scne fictive rend peut-tre l'effet
du f u t u r 'gnralis' plus facile obtenir, mais cela n'en est pas
une condition; pour s'en convaincre on n'a qu' regarder d'autres
pices de Pirandello o l'on trouve le mme f u t u r 'gnralis' mais
avec un lieu scnique diffrent, par exemple la seconde version de
Cos (se vi pare) ou La vita che ti diedi.
8 Autre chose est que cette inclusion de la salle dans l'espace sc
nique (opre par l'entre des personnages et les mouvements du
d i r e c t e u r ) , dans la situation de la reprsentation scnique, con
cerne directement la 'perspective': l elle rend imprcise la limite
entre l'univers fictif de la pice et l'univers rel du spectateur,
principalement parce que cette salle n'y est pas, ou ne peut pas
y tre vide, comme elle l'est dans la situation de lecture.
9 Cf. Souriau (1950: 124-125). Reprenant l'exemple de Souriau,
Sanaker dit (1980) propos de l'absence de Nora dans la dernire
situation de la Maison de Poupe qu'elle doit tre "l pendant
toute la pice pour prparer son action dcisive. Absente, elle
n'aurait de vie dramatique qu' travers le dsespoir de Helmer. Et
c'est exactement ce qui se passe la fin de la pice: une fois
partie, elle n'est plus celle qui se libre, elle est devenue celle
qui rend Helmer malheureux." On pourrait presque dire que c'est
le mme renversement qui a lieu la fin de la pice dans la ver
sion A: une fois disparu, le pre n'est plus celui qui cherche
se raliser travers l'art du thtre, mais celui qui a fait perdre
une journe au directeur.
 287

10 Pour mieux illustrer en quel sens on peut dire qu'un conflit ne

change pas d'un texte l'autre (ce qui est toujours un peu sus
pect), on devra confronter nos deux versions avec des cas en
partie semblables, par exemple avec la traduction franaise de
Ducis des drames de Shakespeare compare l'original (pour
Hamlet, cf. Spinazzola 1979) o u , la limite, avec l'Iphignie de
Racine compare celle de Goethe (cf. Jauss 1978: 210-242, qui
pourtant ne les tudie pas en tant que textes dramatiques); dans
ces deux cas, le conflit ne reste pas le mme.
11 Nous remercions nos collgues Arne Schnack et Annick Wewer
avec qui nous avons pu discuter longuement le contenu et la
langue de cet article.

Rfrences

Baratto, Mario 1960

'Le thtre de Pirandello' ( i n ) Jacquot ( e d . ) Ralisme et posie
au thtre (Paris: Ed. du CNRS).
Bouissy, Andr 1978
'Rflexions sur l'histoire et la prhistoire du personnage "alter
ego" ( i n ) Fusco ( e d . ) Lectures pirandelliennes (Abbville: Im
primerie F. Paillart).
D'Amico, Silvio 1932
Il teatro italiano (Milano-Roma: Treves).
D'Amico, Silvio 1963
Cronache del teatro I ( B a r i : Laterza).
De Castris, A . L . 1975 2
Storia di Pirandello ( B a r i : Laterza).
Gardair, J . - M . 1972
Pirandello. Fantasmes et logique du double (Paris: Larousse).
Genette, Grard 1977
'Genres, " t y p e s " , modes' Potique 32, pp. 389-421.
Jakobson, Roman 1963
Essais de linguistique gnrale (Paris: Minuit).
Jansen, S. 1973
'Qu'est-ce qu'une situation dramatique?' Orbis Litterarum X X V I I I ,
p p . 235-292.
Jansen, S. 1977a
'L'unit della trilogia come unit di una recerca continua' ( i n )
Lauretta (ed.) Il teatro nel teatro di Pirandello (Agrigento:
Centro nazionale di studi pirandelliani).
Jansen, S. 1977b
'Struttura narrativa e s t r u t t u r a drammatica in Questa sera si
recita a soggetto' Rivista italiana di drammaturgia I I , 6, pp.
55-69.
 288

Jansen, S. 1980
'Den dramatiske tekst og den sceniske fremstilling' in Italiensk
teater idag (Copenhague).
Jauss, H. R. 1978
Pour une esthtique de la rception (Paris: Gallimard).
Klem, Lone 1977
Pirandello og dramaets krise (Odense: Universitetsforlaget).
Lugnani, L. 1970
Pirandello. Letteratura e teatro (Firenze: La nuova Italia).
Manoni, O. 1969
Clefs pour l'imaginaire ou l'Autre Scne (Paris: Seuil).
Moestrup, J . 1967
'Le correzioni ai "Sei personaggi" e il Castelvetro di Pirandello'
Revue Romane I I , pp. 121-135.
Moestrup, J . 1969
'La diversa funzione di novella e dramma nell'opera di Pirandello'
Analecta Romana Instituti Panici V, pp. 199-239
Monti, Silvana 1974
Pirandello (Palermo: Palumbo).
Njgaard, M. 1978
'Tempo drammatico e tempo narrativo. Saggio sui livelli temporali
ne "La dernire bande" di Beckett' Biblioteca teatrale 20, pp.
65-75.
Peruzzi, E. 1963
Problemi di grammatica italiana (Torino: R A I ) .
Pirandello, L. 1921
Sei personaggi in cerca d'autore (Firenze: Bemporad).
Pirandello, L. 1950
'Six personnages en qute d'auteur' in Thtre I (Paris: Galli
mard).
Pirandello, L. 1958
'Sei personaggi in cerca d'autore' in Maschere nude I (Milano:
Mondadori).
Pirandello, L. 1977
'Six personnages en qute d'auteur' in 'Thtre complet I (Paris:
Gallimard)
Ruffini, F. 1978
Semiotica del testo. Esempio teatro (Roma: Bulzoni)
Sanaker, J . K . 1980
'Lieu et comportement dans le texte dramatique' Tribune 4.
Saraiva, A . J . 1974
'Message et littrature' Potique 17, pp. 1-13.
Souriau, E. 1950
Les 200.000 situations dramatiques (Paris: Flammarion).
 289

Spinazzola, Margherita 1979

'La "vraie richesse": Amieti francesi del Settecento' Quaderni di
teatro I I , 5, p p . 154-173.
Tilgher, A. 1928
Studi sul teatro -contemporaneo (Roma: Libreria di Scienze e
Lettere).
Togeby, K. 1978
Choix d'articles 1943-1974 (Copenhague: Akademisk F o r l a g ) .
U b e r s f e l d , Anne 1978
Lire le t h t r e ( P a r i s : Ed. sociales).
Y a a r i , Rgina 1978
'L'espace dans Woyzeck de Bchner' ( i n ) B. Dort et A . U b e r s
feld (eds.): Le t e x t e et la scne (Abbville: Imprimerie F.
Paillart).
 ON BRECHT'S NOTION OF GESTUS*

Patrice Pavis

1. Introduction

It would be a great imp(r)udence to t u r n to Brecht's theoretical w r i t

ings in order to extract from them certain concepts, to comment on
them and to link them with other commentaries or to propose new de
finitions in the metalanguage of semiology. Brecht's way of posing
problems is extremely clear. He carefully illustrates them by reference
to his theatre practice. He never hesitates - in the Short Organon
for the Theatre, for example - to make those corrections necessitated
by the evolution of his thinking and the new demands of his aesthetic
and political battles.

It would be highly dangerous, moreover, to isolate a concept for the

sole purpose of clarifying it only in the context of written works of
theory, without verifying what use Brecht makes of it in his writings
or productions, - without comparing it dialectically with other notions
of his system. This is precisely what has happened quite frequently
with the concept of epic drama ('epische Spielweise'): "The contra
diction between acting (demonstration) and experience (empathy)

* This article is part of the book Languages of the Stage. Essays in

the semiology of Theatre, New Y o r k , Performing Arts Publications,
1982. A French version appeared in Silex, no.7, 1978.
 291

often leads the uninstructed to suppose that only one or the other
can be manifest in the work of the actor, as if the Short Organon
concentrated only entirely on acting and the old tradition entirely on
experience" (Addition to 53, Brecht on Theatre: 277) . So we stand
forwarned; and if we insist on making an excursion (incursion) into
the unknown land of the Gestus, we do so at our own r i s k , justified
solely by the fact that the term itself, although in abundant use in
Brecht's 'theoretical w r i t i n g s ' , remains very vaguely and contradic-
torily defined. In the vast mass of his writing on the theatre which
has appeared since Non-Aristotelian Drama (1932-1941) from The Mess
ingkauf Dialogues up through the Short Organon for the Theatre
(1948-1954), the center of gravity is constantly s h i f t i n g : Brecht f o r
mulates his critique of the 'Aristotelian' dramatic form in reaction
against the notion of identification and catharsis; then he shows his
interest in the possibility of imitation and of critical realism; finally,
'theatre dialectics' gives him the chance to propose a method of ana
lysis of reality, and to go beyond the overly stressed oppositions be
tween epic/dramatic, formalism/realism, showing/incarnating, etc.
However, in this journey towards a theory of dialectical theatre two
key notions are particularly resistant to thematic and terminological
variations: that of the Gestus, and that of the Story (die Fabel).
They are veritable pillars of the theoretical s t r u c t u r e , which is mas
sive and solid, but whose foundations need to be examined. Brecht
himself comes ever closer to a definition of Gestus and Story, without
reducing them to an unequivocal meaning, as though he wanted to
preserve their richness and their productive contradictions. But it is
only at the end of his 'demonstration' that he introduces them into
the Short Organon ( 61-76); following the thread of Aristotelian
demonstration he sets out from the concept of imitation and the spec
tator's pleasure at that imitation, ending up at the 'Gestus of deliv
ery' of the performance ( 76).

The itinerary to be followed by the author, the theoretician and the

spectator is perfectly described in two sentences: "Splitting such ma-
 292

terial into one gest after the other, the actor masters his character
by f i r s t mastering the 'story'" (64); and: "The exposition of the
story and its communication by suitable means of alienation constitute
the main business of the theatre" (70). According to these definitiong
it seems rather difficult to tell which element, Gestus or Story, is
logically and temporally anterior to the other; it appears at any rate
that Story and Gestus are closely linked, and constitute the play anc
its mise-en-scne. Theatre, in fact, always does tell a story (even it
it is illogical) by means of gesture (in the widest meaning of the
term): the actor's bodies, stage configurations, 'illustrations' of the
social body. The circle which illustrates the relationship between
Gestus, Story and Character could be schematically represented as
follows:

Gestus Story determines interrelations be

tween the characters

specifies Characters specifies

However, instead of accounting for each of the elements of the circle,

which would entail a lot of repetition, I shall organize my remarks
around the notion of Gestus, indicating the possible links with Story.

2. Definitions

The term Gestus f i r s t appeared in 1932 in ber gestische Musik ('On

Gestic Music'); it reappears several times in The Actor's Craft (1935-
1941), On Stage Architecture and the Music of Epic Theatre (1935-
1943), New Technique of Acting (1949-1955), On Rhymeless Verse
with Irregular Rhythms (1939) from the collection Remarks on Liter
ary Work (1935-1941), in the Modellbuch Theaterarbeit (1961) and
finally in a systematic manner in the Short Organon (1948-1954: in
articles 61-63-64-65-66-70-73-76). In this last work, Gestus (or 'ge-
 293

stisch') is often associated with an adjective or a noun making its ma

teriality clear ('the gestural domain', the 'gestural content', 'the
gestural matter'), its social character ('a social Gestus', 'the basic
Gestus') or its faculty for demonstration ('the general Gestus of social
dimensions'.) All these definitions have a common social dimension: "A
Gestus characterizes the relations amongst people" (Gesammelte Werke
1
16:753 ); and: "The realm of attitudes adopted by the characters
towards one another is what we call the realm of gest. Physical a t t i
tude, tone of voice and facial expression are all determined by a
social gest: the characters are c u r s i n g , f l a t t e r i n g , instructing one
another, and so on" ( Short Organon, 61). When Mother Courage
bites on the coin that a purchaser has just given her, she too carries
out a social Gestus which is quite precise: that of the suspicious
saleswoman motivated by the prospect of gain. That act of biting on
the coin establishes a whole fund of social dependencies ( f u t u r e c l i
ents, the producers of money and goods, authors and victims of f r a u d
ulent practices, e t c . ) . Gestus has nothing to do with pantomime which
is "a seperate branch of the expressive a r t s , like theatre, opera, and
dance". It is distinguished from gestuality ('Gestik') which "exists in
everyday life and takes a specific form in the theatre" (Gesammelte
Werke, 16:752). It has nothing to do with conventional gestures
either (the hand raised to indicate the need to stop, for example), or
illustrative gesture (declamation, or expressive and aesthetic gesture
(dance).

The question of its extent is as complex as that of its specificity.

Gestus may be a simple bodily movement of the actor (facial expres
sion), or a particular way of behaving (gestuality), or a physical
relationship between two characters, or a stage arrangement (a figure
formed by a group of characters), or the common behaviour of a
group, the collective attitude of characters in a play, or the gesture
of global delivery from the stage to the public via the mise-en-scne.
This range of different kinds of Gestus reveals the constant enlarge
ment of the notion of social Gestus. What would appear, in its slight
est manifestation, as the index of an attitude, becomes an intentional
 294

signal emitted by the actor. The actor constantly controls his gestua-
l i t y , in order to indicate the character's social attitude and way of
behaving. It goes without saying that is not enough for that effort
by the actor to end et reproducing stereotypes of social relationships;
the actor must seek out the most subtle and hidden signals of normal
perception. So he is, therefore, coming directly to grips with social
reality, its evolution and the eternally newly invented forms ideology
adopts in order to encode attitudes between members of one class or
2
different socio-professional groups. The Modellbuch , through the
juxtaposition of stills of one particular actor in his different situations
gives us many examples of these variations of the Gestus (cf. Lenz's
Der Hofmeister where we can see "the rebellious vitality and brutality
of Lauffer, born into the lower classes and strapped into the strait-
jacket of court etiquette" [Theaterarbeit: 107]).

3. Social Gestus and basic Gestus

Faced with the multiple forms of Gestus, Brecht is led to distinguish

between the simple incidental social Gestus, characteristic of an actor
or a particular stage business and the basic Gestus ('Grundgestus 1 ),
which is characteristic of the play of of a particular action: "Each
single incident has its basic gest: Richard Gloster courts his victim's
widow. The child's true mother is found by means of a chalk circle.
God has a bet with the Devil for Dr Faustus's soul, Woyzeck buys a
cheap knife in order to do his wife i n , etc." (Short Organon, 66).
The basic Gestus describes a condensed version of the Story; it con
stitutes the inalienable substratum of the gestural relationship between
at least two people, a relationship which must always be readable
whatever the options of the mise-en-scne. This Gestus (close to
enunciation, a linguistic term which describes the attitude of the
speaker to his utterance) gives us the key to the relationship between
the play being performed and the public. The author's attitude to the
public, that of the era represented and of the time in which the play
 295

is performed, the collective style of acting of the c h a r a c t e r s , etc. are

a few of the parameters of the basic Gestus. Today we would also call
it the 'discourse of the mise-en-scne' or of the 'performance struc
ture' without, however, insisting as Brecht does on the physical
character ( g e s t u r e and a t t i t u d e ) of this relationship with the public.

Once this general context of the Gestus is o u t l i n e d , it becomes possi

ble, t h r o u g h a series of approximations, to indicate its properties and
its importance for the t h e o r y of t h e a t r e . Gestus appears to be a r e
markable instrument for unlocking the contradictions of action and
character, of the individual and the social of logos and g e s t u r e , of
distance and identification.

4. Gestus as a theoretical instrument

4.1. Between action and character

T h e discussion about the link between action and characters and the
way in which one is determined by the other is one of the oldest in
theatrical aesthetics. Like Aristotle in his Poetics, Brecht conceives of
theatre as a succession of actions from which the characterization
flows. In the early B r e c h t , in Man for man for example, the concep
tion of man is quasi-behaviouristic and mechanistic. ( I t is well known
how the clownish characters of Valentin and Chaplin fascinated B r e c h t . )
For the mature B r e c h t , man is no longer pure gesticulation; he cannot
be reduced to a single exterior b e h a v i o u r - p a t t e r n ; he is no longer an
'activist' but a dialectical strategist: his way of acting influences and
modifies the deepest elements of his nature. Gestus can therefore
assure the mediation between bodily action and character behaviour;
it is situated midway between the character and the determination of
his possible actions(of his 'spheres of action' in the functionalist
3
terminology of PROPP ) . As an object of the actor's r e s e a r c h , it
becomes more and more specific in defining what the character does,
and, consequently, what he is: way of being and way of behaving
 296

become complementary. The importance to the actor of this way of

approaching the Gestus and the character is not difficult to imagine.
Running through the opening scenes of his Life of Galileo, Brecht
analyses Galileo's 'stage business': his pleasure in drinking his milk,
in washing himself, and in thinking form a Gestus which informs us
as much about the person of the character (that is, about his possi
ble weaknesses, which are confirmed in what follows) as about his
activities as milk-drinker and t h i n k e r . In practice, it is often very
difficult to observe the dialectical mobility of Gestus, between a way
of behaving and a gestuality which are f i x e d , on the one hand, and a
spontaneous and creative activity on the other. It is, however, only
at this price that the Brechtian notion retains its efficacity in going
beyond the alternatives action/character. The assembling of different
Gestus by the actor will then allow him to reconstitute the Story. In
the Brechtian concept the Story is not simply (as it is in the Poetics),
the "principle and the soul of the tragedy, with the characters in
second place only" (1450a); it is principly the sum total of the Gestus
and the relationships between the characters, "the realm of attitudes
adopted by the characters towards one another" (Short Organon,
61), "the groupings and the movements of the characters" (Ge
sammelte Werke, 17:1218). This integration of particular Gestus in the
Story explains its fragmented and non-continuous nature: "He [the
actor] must be able to space his gestures the compositor produces
4
spaces type" . The 'Story-maker' spaces the narrative episodes.
The development of the story occurs by leaps and not by a sliding of
scenes one into the other. The fragmentation of the story corresponds
to the 'shifting' gesture (which always implies more than it actually
shows). This shifting movement and the fragmentation are, in fact,
iconically, musically, reproducing the contradictions of social pro
cesses. The Story does not mask (as does the traditional dramatic
form) the illogical nature of the linking of the scenes but lets us
become aware of i t : T h u s , for example, the dual attitude of Mother
Courage: living off the war and sacrificing nothing to i t ; loving her
children and making use of them in her business, etc. ... If the
 297

Gestus refers directly to a position in the social reality represented,

the story does not have to mold itself to the undulatory and contra
dictory movement of history, to follow faithfully the same logico-
temporal presentation. There is never a perfect parallelism between
social processes and the arrangement of the Gestus within the plot.
The spectator's pleasure lies in rectifying the proportions between
Story and history, in perceiving the disconnections between these two
levels: t h u s , in The Life of Galileo we wait in vain for a dramatic
scene of retraction. In A r t u r o Ui, the life of the ganster does not
follow that of his historical model.

4.2. Individual and social

The distinction between an individual gesture and a socially encoded

one is also quite irrelevant to Gestus. For Brecht, gesture is not the
free and individual part of man in opposition to the collective domina
tion of language and ideology (and for the actor, of the 'text to be
said'). He does not own it personally; it belongs and refers to a
g r o u p , a class, a milieu. He always quotes a particular gestuality of
these groups, even one of his own previous gestures, as "the rough
sketching which indicates traces of other movements and features all
around the fully-worked-out figure" (Short Organon, 39). Man's
gesture, as Brecht tries to reflect it in the Gestus, is neither con
ventional (of the type 'capitalists walk like t h i s ' ) , nor entirely i n
vented (spontaneous, expressive or aestheticizing gesture). He uses
materials from the code of gestural conventions for his own purposes
and to express one or another individual variant corresponding to the
specific situation of man, which is never twice repeated in identical
form. The Gestus does not lead to a puppet-like use of gesture,
where the slightest indication of behaviour immediately takes on the
function of a signal: the spectator (and the actor) is constantly i n
vited to select a few details from the gesture in order to have them
reveal a social conduct which is not delivered in its definitive form
 298

but remains the object of critical appraisal. So the Gestus is in no

sense the 'cheap imitation' of a fixed sociological vision of human
behaviour. The creators of mises-en-scne where socially marked
figures appear (workers, exploiters, soldiers) have sometimes for
gotten this aspect of Gestus.

4.3. Logos and gestuality

The role of Gestus is also very important when it comes to understand

ing the relationship between logos and gestuality in epic theatre. In a
dramatic form where the text is staged, the actors' gestures often
only illustrate or punctuate the spoken word by creating the illusion
that it is a perfectly integrated part of the enunciator, thus of his
gestural universe. Gestus on the contrary approaches the text/gesture
ensemble so as not to eliminate either of the two terms of the dicho
tomy. It reveals how gestural a discourse may be (see below on the
'gestuality' of discourse) by stressing the rhythm of the diction, and
the actor's effort in the production and ostension of the t e x t . The
stage and the speaking body (the actor) are made 'readable' for the
audience ( i f necessary by means of printed banners). So instead of
fusing logos and gestuality in an illusion of reality, the Gestus
radically cleaves the performance into two blocks: the shown (the
said) and the showing (the saying). Discourse no longer has the form
of a homogenous block; it threatens at any moment to break away
from its enunciator. Far from assuring the construction and the con
t i n u i t y of the action, it intervenes to stop the movement and to com
ment on what might have been acted on stage. Gestus thus displaces
the dialectic between ideas and actions; the dialectic no longer
operates within the system of these ideas and actions, but at the
point of intersection of the enunciating gesture and the enunciated
discourse: "in epic theatre, the dialectic is not born of the contradic
tion between successive statements or ways of behaving, but of the
gesture itself" .
 299

4.4. Alienation

This phenomen of the 'cleaving' of the performance by Gestus i s , in

fact, the principle of the alienation effect. By making visible the
class behind the individual, the critique behing the naive object, the
commentary behind the affirmation, the attitude of demonstration be
hind the demonstrated t h i n g , the Gestus lies at the core of the alie
nation effect where the thing is simultaneously recognized and made
strange, where gesture invites us to reflect on the text and the text
contradicts the gesture. This device, which Brecht did not invent but
which he has reinvested with a social (and not simply aesthetic) con
tent is as applicable to social gesture as to stage signs or the ar
rangement of events in the Story. The same signifier (gesture, stage
sign, narrative episode) takes on a 'double appearance splits itself
into two signifieds: a concrete object, naively 'delivered' and an ab
stract object of knowledge, criticized and 'alienated'.

Gestus, stage sign and Story reveal at the same time materiality and
abstraction, historical exactitude and philosophical meaning, the
particular and the general . The dose of these two contradictory i n
gredients runs the risk of being rather 'explosive', since, according
to Brecht, the art of abstraction must be mastered by realists. The
thankless task of gathering together these contradictory demands falls
to Gestus, since it always allows for the passage from actor to char
acter, from the body to the reading of i t , from the reconstituted
event to its f i c t i o n , from theory to theatrical and social praxis.

4.5. Subject-matter and point of view

However, the way in which the Gestus is determined by the actor and
the director poses a difficult theoretical problem: the director, Brecht
tells us, must gather information about the era in which the gestures
originated, as much as about his own social reality. In the same man
ner, the spectator, if he is to be able to decipher the characters'
 300

attitude, needs to have a degree of knowledge of the ideological code

of the represented and representing realities. But does this not create
a vicious circle, as it is precisely in the play and in the acting that
we are supposed to find information on these realities, and where the
spectator should find himself confronted with a "subject-matter for
observation" and not - to quote the philosopher of the Messingkauf
Dialogues - with "I don't know how many marxistbased theories"?

In fact, Gestus and Story are tools which are constantly being ela
borated. They are located at the precise point of intersection of the
real object to be imitated (to be shown and told) and the subject per
ceiving and criticizing this reality. Gestus concentrates within it a
certain gestuality (given by the ideological code of a certain time)
and the personal and demonstrative gestuality of the actor. In the
same way, the story designates for Brecht the logic of the repre
sented reality (the signified of the narrative) the Story ('histoire' for
Benveniste) and the specific narration of these events from the critic
al point of view of the Story-maker (the signifier of the narrative or
'discours' for Benveniste). Extracting the Story of conveying the
appropriate Gestus will never mean discovering a universally decipher
able Story once and for all inscribed within the t e x t . In seeking out
the Story, the reader and the director express their own views on
the reality they want to represent. This work of exposition has al
ways to be complemented by the spectator's own work, the spectator
having the last w o r d , i.e. the r i g h t to watch/control the playwright's
'view'. In the same way, in the case of the Gestus shown by the
actor, we should not be content to receive it as is ( i . e . as a 'compact
signified' wherein the split between the thing and its critique does
not appear). We have to seize the Gestus on the rebound, to see in it
and to inscribe in it its constitutive contradiction, to understand it as
a gesture which is internal to the fiction (gestuality) and as the
"Gestus of handing over a finished article" (Short Organon, 76).
What could be more efficacious for the manipulations of a dialectical
theatre than the Gestus?
 301

5. Semiosis of Gestus

The most fascinating aspect of the Brechtian Gestus, but also the one
on which there has been the least theoretical work, remains to be
commented o n : the possibility of 'translating' the Gestus in different
materials and its 'conductibility' in several different stage materials
and the prqblems of its semiosis and its intersemiotic translation .

The most extreme formulation of the enormous resources of Gestus is

to be found in On Gestic Music (1932) and On Rhymeless Verse with
Irregular Rhythms (1939). In these Brecht expands the notion of
Gestus to music and to the t e x t : "A language is gestic when it is
grounded in a gest and conveys particular attitudes adopted by the
speaker towards other men. The sentence 'pluck the eye that offends
thee out' is less effective from the gestie point of view that 'if thine
eye offend thee, pluck it out'. The latter starts by presenting the
eye, and the f i r s t clause has the definite gest of making an assump
t i o n ; the main clause then comes as a surprise, a piece of advice,
and a relief" ( Brecht on Theatre: 104). With this metaphor, Brecht
describes one of the key problems of theatre semiology: the link be
tween iconic system (gesture) based on the resemblance between the
sign and its object, and the symbolic system which is based on the
arbitrariness of the sign.

In this context, the Brechtian Gestus is not necessarily translateable

into a movement or an attitude. It may be entirely constituted by
words (as, for instance, in a radio broadcast). In this case, gestuality
and mimic expression, which are quite precise and easy to visualize
'impregnate' these words (a humble bending of the knee, a hand
tapping a shoulder). In the same way, gestures and mimic expression
(in the silent film) or simple gestures (in shadow theatre) can contain
words. Words and gestures can be replaced by other words and ges
t u r e s , without the Gestus being modified. The Gestus here plays the
role of the interpreter in Peirce's semiotics. The sign meaning
(gestural or prosodie) helps us to associate it with certain equi
valents, to constitute the paradigms of possible variations, to
 302

establish series and networks of correspondances between voice and

gesture. To a certain extent, every mise-en-scne is a search for an
adequate interpreter which connects the 'mise-en-place' (placement) of
the enunciators and the text to be acted. But such a rich theoretical
perspective should not remain, as in Brecht's theoretical w r i t i n g , at
the stage of a declaration of principle. This 'gestie music', this 'iconic
discourse' specific to the theatre should seek to define its own units,
and to explicate the laws of its own functioning. This aspect of Gestus
exists mostly in the case of motivated or poetic signs and of onomato
poeia, a marginal area where the sign and its referent are reunited
unter the patronage of Gestus. Unfortunately this type of Gestus
remains too global a notion and Brecht possibly limits it too much to
syntax and to the rhetorics of the sentence; he only examines the
" ( s h i f t i n g , syncopated, gestic) Rhythm" (Brecht on Theatre: 115), to
which the idea of a knocked-about and fractured world must corres
pond in the meaning of the t e x t . In his On Rhymeless Verse with I r
regular Rhythms he reports how, at the beginning of his career,
despite has 'disgracefully meager' political knowledge, he was aware
of the lack of harmony in social relationships and refused to "iron out
all the discordances and interferences of which [he] was strongly
conscious" (Brecht on Theatre: 116). He then decided "to show human
dealings as contradictory, fiercely fought over, full of violence"
(ibid.: 116). This Gestus of syncopation characterizes the speaker's
attitude towards the w o r l d , and what he has to say about i t . It
serves as a hermeneutic tool which helps constitute the meaning of
the t e x t . It is in the form of the text that one can read the Gestus
and thus the attitude of the speaker towards the enunciation. Once
again, Gestus here fills the breach between utterance and enunciation
('nonce/nonciation'). It recalls for us the basic t r u t h that a theatre
text only finds its full volume and its meaning in the choice of the
situation of enunciation. Brecht, who carefully chose a tonality for
each play according to the nature of the language used, knew this
well; for instance, the German spoken in Prague for Schweik, the
parody of classical verse for Saint Joan, the popular style and the
poetic prose for Puntila, etc.
 303

6. Gestus and the body

One cannot help regretting that Brecht was not more explicit on this
'gestic music' and that he did not give away any formulas on how to
find the Gestus, which is best understood intuitively and by the me
thodological application of different readings of the text on the basis
of different subjective attitudes. It has nothing to do with the ' w r i t
ing of the body' as it has sometimes been referred to in the context
of A r t a u d , Cline, or Bataille. Gestus never deals exclusively with
the problem of the materiality of the textual signifier; it exists at the
level of prosodic and textual signifieds. It is a tool which remains
exterior to the t e x t , just as a seismograph is capable of recording the
shakings of the earth without being a part of that shaking. The Ges
tus; at best is only - but this is not negligible - a meaning 'detector',
a way of "accompanying the reading with certain appropriate body
movements, signifying politeness, anger, the desire to persuade,
goading, the effort to fix in one's memory, the effort to surprise an
adversary; the fear that one feels or fear that one wants to inspire"
(cf. Brecht's comments on the Chinexe poet Kin-Yem).

Is it legitimate, though, to understand Gestus as a 'simple mimed ex

pression' excluding everything that the signifying work of the body
o
can produce outside of the representation/performance ?
It seems quite contrary to the spirit of Gestus to conceive of it as
the mimetic production of eternally fixed social gestuality. There still
remains in it the material "traces of other movements and features all
around the fully-worked-out f i g u r e " (Brecht on Theatre: 191) and if
9
it is obviously never like the ideograms of Grotowskian gestures , "a
living form possessing its own logic" neither is it the reified image of
a social relationship.
 304

7. Conclusion

These brief remarks on Gestus are far from exhausting the substance
of the notion, and only sketch out a few possible developments. At
least, it should be clear how central the concept of Gestus is to all of
the d i f f e r e n t theoretical Brechtian paths. And is it not in the nature
of the Gestus, after a l l , that it can only be grasped by the actor and
the critic in approximate form?

Translated by Susan Melrose

Notes and References

1 My quotations of Brecht come from the English translation of John

Willet: Brecht on T h e a t r e , New Y o r k , Hill and Wang, 1964. For the
German t e x t s , not included in Willet's anthology, I have used Ge-
sammelte Werke in 20 B n d e n ) . Suhrkamp Verlag, Frankfurt am
Main, 1967. I chose to keep Gestus in English, although Willet used
gest. I had to introduce the terms of gestuality and g e s t u r a l .
2 Theaterarbeit, Henschelverlag Kunst und Gesellschaft, B e r l i n , 1961.
3 W. Propp, Morphology of the Folktale, A u s t i n , U T P , 1968.
4 W. Benjamin, Understanding B r e c h t , London, N L B , 1973, p . 1 1 .
5 W. Benjamin, o p . c i t . , p.12.
6 Cf. . D o r t , 'Le Gnral et le p a r t i c u l i e r ' , in L'Arc, n o . 5 5 , p p . 3 8 ,
et le Modellbuch: "Unearth the t r u t h from the debris of the e v i
dence, tie together in a visible manner the individual and the g e n
e r a l , retain the particular in the overall process, this is the a r t of
the realist" ( T h e a t e r a r b e i t , o p . c i t . , p . 2 6 4 ) .
7 On the problems of the semiosis of sign systems, cf. R. Jakobson,
'Le Langage commun des linguistes et des anthropologues', in Essais
de linguistique gnrale, 1963, Editions de Minuit ( i n p a r t i c u l a r ,
pp.40-429.
8 Guy S c a r p e t t a , 'Brecht et la C h i n e ' , in La Nouvelle C r i t i q u e , no.39
bis, 1971.
9 Jerzy Grotowski, Towards a Poor T h e a t r e , Simon and Schuster,
New Y o r k , 1968.
 DIE UMSTRUKTURIERUNG DES THEATRALISCHEN ZEICHENS
IN ECHOVS EINAKTER "PREDLOENI E" (DER HEIRATSANTRAG)

Herta Schmid

Der vorliegende Beitrag setzt sich das Ziel, anhand des kleinen Bh
nenwerks "Predlozenie" den Ansatzpunkt der neuen dramatischen Kunst
nachzuweisen, den das Drama echovs generell in der Evolution der
dramatischen und theatralischen Gattung markiert. In den groen Dra
men echovs ist der innovatorische Impuls f r die Gattung schon lange
gesehen worden. Die kleinen Bhnenwerke hingegen wurden entweder
von der Forschung bersehen oder hinsichtlich ihrer Konstruktion als
1
konventionell eingestuft . Die Tatsache, da der in der Geschichte
der europischen Regiekunst revolutionre Regisseur Vsevolod E. Mejer-
chol'd die letzte Auffhrung seines Theaters drei Vaudevilles von e-
chov gewidmet hat, deutet aber schon darauf h i n , da zwischen der
Erneuerung des Theaters am Anfang unseres Jahrhunderts und der
Erneuerung des Dramas durch echov eine innere Beziehung besteht .
Auf diese innere Beziehung soll eine Strukturanalyse des Einakters
aufmerksam machen.

Drama und Theater sind miteinander verbunden durch die gemeinsame

sthetische Leitkategorie des Dramatischen. Der Mejerchol'd naheste
hende tschechische Regisseur und Theatertheoretiker Jindrich Honzl
bestimmt das Wesen des Dramatischen folgendermaen: "Das Dramati
sche betont immer diejenigen Vernderungen von Gegenstzen zwischen
Personen, Sachen, Verhltnissen, Situationen, die der Bewegung der
Personen, den Vernderungen der Sachen, der Verhltnisse und Situa-
 306

tionen Entstehung geben. Das Dramatische ist Bewegung im wahren

3
Sinn des Worts." Das Dramatische beruht demgem einerseits auf
Gegenstzen, andererseits auf der Vernderung dieser Gegenstze,
die in Bewegungen kulminiert. Traditionell nun wurden im Drama die
Gegenstze auf der Ebene der Personen in der Sphre ihrer Lebensin
teressen konstruiert, die Vernderungen dieser Gegenstze entstanden
durch Handlungen der Personen, worin deren Leitinteressen in kon
flikthaften Interaktionen zu grerer oder geringerer Befriedigung
gebracht wurden, und die Bewegungen waren gerade die uerungen
und Verrichtungen der Personen, die ntig waren, um ihre Handlungen
zu realisieren und ihre Interessen durchzusetzen. Dies f h r t e dazu,
die Gattung des Dramas mit konflikthafter Handlung und Kampf gleich
zusetzen und das Theater als Kunst der Bewegung vor allem in Streit
wort und handlungsorientierter Kampfgeste zu definieren. In echovs
dramatischem Werk jedoch vollzieht sich ein Umbruch: Das Dramatische
ist nicht mehr inkarniert in der Kampfhandlung, sondern sucht sich
eine neue Ebene seiner Verwirklichung. Diese neue Ebene ist, das sei
der folgenden Untersuchung thesenartig vorangestellt, die Ebene des
Worts. Das Wort bei echov emanzipiert sich von seiner Dienstfunktion
gegenber einer nicht mehr dramatischen Handlung und wird selber
Trger der Dramatik. In seiner neuen Funktion als Trger der sthe
tischen Leitkategorie der Gattung wird das Wort sekundiert von den
auersprachlichen Zeichen der menschlichen Krper und der Dinge, mit
denen die Krper in Beziehung t r e t e n . Dadurch kommt es zu einer
vlligen Umstrukturierung des gesamten Zeichenbaus des dramatischen
Werks, die dieses zum Wegbereiter einer neuen Theaterkunst, wie sie
von Mejerchol'd und K.S. Stanislavskij gesucht wurde, werden lt.
In den groen Dramen echovs ist das sthetisch dominierende Wort
psychologisch motiviert, so da Krpersprache und Dingbeziehungen
der dramatischen Personen ebenfalls vorwiegend psychologisch inter-
4
pretiert werden mssen . In den komisch-satirischen Einaktern jedoch
ist das Wort eher physiologisch gelenkt, der Krper der dramatischen
Personen erhlt eine Eigenwertigkeit und Eigendynamik, welche
Krper- und Dingbewegungen mit selbstwertiger sthetischer Wirksam-
 307

keit versieht, die die Dynamik des Wortes kontrastiv und parallelisie-
rend untersttzt. Die psychologische Motivierung war der Anziehungs
faktor der groen Dramen Cechovs f r die psychologische Schau
spieltechnik des Regisseurs Stanislavskij, die physiologische Motivie
rung vor allem der komischen Einakter war der Anziehungsfaktor f r
5
den Regisseur Mejerchol'd .

Psychologische wie physiologische Motivierung sind auersthetische

materialimmanente Verbindungsweisen, die erst durch die knstlerische
Motivierung, welche sich ihnen berlagert, zu sthetisch wirksamer
Spannung gebracht werden. In der folgenden Analyse sollen drei Ma
terialebenen der Werkstruktur, die Ebene der Handlung, die Ebene
des Dialogs und die Ebene der Krper- und Dingsprache hinsichtlich
ihres jeweiligen materiellen Bestands, des gegenseitigen Verbindungs
gesetzes ihrer Materialelemente und der knstlerischen berformung
in der Komposition untersucht werden. Das Ziel der Analyse liegt nicht
nur darin zu zeigen, wie sich die materielle Beschaffenheit der genann
ten Ebenen im Vergleich zum handlungsorientierten Drama verndert,
sondern auch darin nachzuweisen, da mit den neuen Materialbeziehun
gen auch neue Kompositionsformen entstehen, so da eine dramatisch
sthetische S t r u k t u r neuen Typs entsteht. Dieser neue sthetische
Typus des Dramas kam der Suche der Regisseure nach einer neuen
knstlerischen Bhnensprache entgegen, so da sich echovs drama
tisches Schaffen organisch in die Evolution der Schauspielkunst ein
fgt.

I Die Ebene der dramatischen Handlung

Otakar Zich, der Vater des tschechischen Strukturalismus und Mitbe

grnder der modernen Theaterwissenschaft, sieht im Handeln den
Zentralbegriff des Dramas berhaupt. Er unterscheidet zwischen einer
ueren und einer inneren Seite des dramatischen Handelns. Die u
ere Seite bilden die Reden, das Verhalten und die Taten der im
Drama dargestellten Personen, die innere Seite ist eine "bildliche Vor-
 308

stellung", die sich der Zuschauer aufgrund der Wahrnehmung und

Sinninterpretation der ueren Seite bildet. In die "bildliche Vorstel
lung" geht das ein, was der Zuschauer f r die Ursache und das len
kende Ziel der A k t i v i t t einer handelnden Person hlt; diese Ursache-
Ziel-Interpretation des personalen Handelns nennt Zich auch den " i n
neren kausal-finalen Nexus". Zu hm t r i t t noch ein "uerer kausaler
Nexus". Denn Handeln im Drama ist nach Zich immer interpersonales
Handeln und zwar so, da die zweite Person zu ihrem eigenen Handeln
zumindest teilmotiviert wird durch das Handeln der ersten Person und
die erste Person schon whrend der Einstellung auf ihr Handeln die
Reaktion der zweiten Person mitberechnet . Handlung im Drama ist
daher immer komplexes, interpersonales Tun zweier oder mehrerer
Personen, die in derselben ueren Situation und in bezug auf das
selbe Objekt oder dieselbe Idee von gegenstzlichen Positionen aus
gegeneinander ttig werden. Aufgrund der interpersonalen Relation,
worin das Handeln im Drama steht, ist die dramatische Handlung stets
eine Einheit von Aktion und Reaktion. Die uerlich sichtbare Folge
der Reaktion auf eine vorausgegangene Aktion bildet den "ueren
kausalen Nexus". In den "ueren kausalen Nexus" geht in der Regel
aber noch eine innere Kausalbeziehung ein, die Zich "innerlich-uere
pragmatische Ursachenbeziehung" nennt. Darunter ist zu verstehen,
da die Reaktion (etwa physische Gegenwehr einer Person) nicht nur
durch ueren Zwang (eine voraufgegangene Krperaggression) her
beigefhrt zu sein braucht, sondern einer Verinnerlichung der Aktion
des Gegners und einer Verknpfung mit mglichen eigenen Handlungs
motivationen und Zielen entspringen kann, die der Reaktion einen
eigenen "inneren kausal-finalen Nexus" verleiht .

Durch die drei Arten des Handlungsnexus und das Postulat der Einheit
des Handlungsobjekts oder der Leitidee aller handelnden Personen
f g t sich das gleichzeitige und sukzessive Handeln der einzelnen Per
sonen im Drama zur Einheit der dramatischen Handlung als einer Ein
heit von Aktion und Reaktion. Der deutsche Dramentheoretiker Gustav
Freytag hat die dramatische Handlungseinheit empirisch auf ihre t y p i
schen Realisationsformen hin untersucht und aus dem Ergebnis der
 309

Untersuchung Gesetze zum kompositorischen Bau der dramatischen

Handlung und des gesamten dramtischen Werks abgeleitet . Die kompo

sitorischen Baugesetze zielen darauf ab, die Handlungsspannung maxi
mal zu steigern, um die Handlung auf diese Weise zum Trger des
Schwerpunkts des Zuschauerinteresses zu machen. Da Handlung aber
eine Komponente der Inhalts- oder Bedeutungsseite des dramatischen
Werks ist, wird durch die spannend konstruierte Handlung die Auf
merksamkeit des Zuschauers von den sprachlichen und auersprachli
chen Ausdruckselementen in der dramatischen Zeichenstruktur abge
lenkt. Ein dramatisches Werk, das aus der Handlungsspannung seine
Hauptwirkung erzielen w i l l , mu daher die Handlung und die direkte
Personenrede in eine konstruktive Spannung bringen, worin die Hand
lung ihr gestaltbildendes Potential maximal entfalten kann gegen und
auf Kosten der direkten Personenrede des Dialogs, der sein eigenes
Gestaltpotential nur deformiert und in Anpassung an die konstruktiven
Aufgaben, welche die Handlung stellt, zur Wirkung bringen kann.
Das an der Handlung orientierte Drama stellt jedoch, wenn man das
Wesen einer Kunst in ihren Materialspezifica begrndet sieht, eine
historische Fehlentwicklung der dramatischen Gattung dar. Denn Hand
lung und Kampf kommen auch in der Epik vor. Die gattungsspezifi
schen Materialebenen des Dramas sind der Dialog der Personen und
die auersprachlichen Ausdrucksmittel der Personen wie der Bhne.
Vielleicht war das Wissen um die wahre Eigenart des Dramas der Grund
dafr, da Cechov die zu knstlerischem Spannungsbau gesteigerte
Handlung im Sinne Freytags ablehnte und statt dessen die effektvollen
Sujetsituationen betonte; so schreibt er seinem Bruder zum Rat: "Das
9
Sujet mu neu sein, die Fabel kann fehlen" .
Damit die Handlung die Aufgabe erfllen kann, das Hauptinteresse
des Zuschauers whrend des gesamten Dramenverlaufs auf sich zu
lenken und zu f i x i e r e n , rekurriert der Dramatiker auf zustzliche
inhaltliche Spannungsmomente wie Konflikt, Kollision, Kampf und Sieg,
bzw. Niederlage der handelnden Personen. Das Drama, das sich we
sensmig an das Handlungskonzept bindet, bindet sich gleichzeitig
auch an eine bestimmte A r t von Handlung, den Kampf, der als physi-
 310

scher und/oder ideeller Kampf realisiert werden kann. Mit dieser i n

haltlichen Festlegung der dramatischen Handlung rechnet auch Gustav
Freytag bei der Definition der dramatischen Kompositionslinie, die eine
langsam ansteigende Spannung ber ein "erregendes Moment" (aufkom
mender K o n f l i k t ) , eine Steigerung (Kollision der widerstreitenden Inte
ressen), Kulmination (Kampfausbruch) und Abstieg zum Finale vor-
10
sieht . Als dramatisch gilt daher das Kmpferische.

Betrachtet man echovs Einakter unter dem Gesichtspunkt der inhalt

lichen Bestimmung seiner Handlung, so zeigt sich, da das Werk, was
die Handlungsebene b e t r i f f t , undramatisch ist. "Predlozenie" weist ei
ne klare Handlungsstruktur auf, doch das Moment des Konflikts oder
gar des Kampfes fehlen darin vllig. Ganz im Gegenteil, alle drei han
delnden Personen sind sich von Anfang an einig, da sie dasselbe
Ziel in ihrer gemeinsamen Situation erreichen wollen, das Zustande
kommen der Heirat. Da bei dieser Einmtigkeit der handelnden Per
sonen es dennoch sieben Szenen braucht, bis die Heirat schlielich
vollzogen w i r d , liegt daran, da die kampfmige Aktions- und Reak
tionsbewegung hier neben und entgegen der Handlungslinie verluft
und diese am Erreichen ihres immanenten Ziels hindert. Dies wird da
durch bewirkt, da die dialogischen Reden der Personen, die bei ei
ner Dominanz der dramatischen Handlung instrumentale Bedeutung
haben in dem Sinne, da die Personenreden dazu dienen, die Hand
lung zu realisieren, sich ihrer Instrumentenrolle widersetzen und
handlungsunabhngige, autonome, ja den Handlungsinteressen der
Sprechenden sogar zuwiderlaufende Redeziele verfolgen. Um dieses
der Dominantenrolle der Handlung widersprechende Verhltnis von
Handlung und Dialog zu zeigen, sei zunchst die Handlungsstruktur
und danach ihre im Werk angenommene kompositionelle Form analysiert,
um sie dann mit der Dialogstruktur, deren Kompositionsform und der
wechselseitigen Beziehung beider Ebenen zu verbinden.
 311

a ) Die H a n d l u n g s s t r u k t u r in "Predloenie"

Die Grundhandlung des Stcks h a t , wie der Titel schon ansagt, den
Inhalt ' H e i r a t s a n t r a g ' . Die Semantik dieser Aktion sieht zwei Akteure
v o r , den A n t r a g s t e l l e r , der der Konvention des neunzehnten J a h r h u n
derts entsprechend mnnlichen Geschlechts sein mu, und den An
tragsempfnger, der weiblich sein mu. Der sozialen Konvention des
neunzehnten Jahrhunderts entspricht auch, da noch ein oder zwei
Nebenakteure vorgesehen s i n d , Vater und Mutter des weiblichen T e i l s ,
die ihre Erlaubnis z u r Heirat geben mssen. Die drei von der Wortse
mantik vorgesehenen Rollenpositionen wollen wir Agens (=initiativer
Teil bei der A k t i o n s d u r c h f h r u n g ) , Patiens ( = p a s s i v e r , von der Ak
tionsinitiative des Agens betroffener T e i l ) und mitbetroffener Patiens
nennen. echov besetzt die Rollenpositionen mit drei durch Eigenna
men gekennzeichneten Individualpersonen: Ivan Vasil'evi Lomov ist
d e r Agens der A k t i o n , Natal'ja Stepanovna deren Patiens und Stepan
Stepanovic ubukov als Vater Natal'jas ist der mitbetroffene Patiens.

Wenn wir entsprechend dem Schema Gustav Freytags die Handlungs

einheit des Stcks rekonstruieren, so e r g i b t sich, da Aktion und
Reaktion jedesmal denselben Inhalt haben. Die Aktion als dasjenige
Handlungsmoment, das die grundlegende Vernderungsbewegung in
die Ausgangssituation der Personen des Stcks b r i n g t , geht aus von
Lomov als dem Aktionstrger und hat den Inhalt: Realisierung des
Heiratsantrags; die Reaktionsantwort auf die Aktion geht aus von
Natal'ja als dem Patiens der Aktion und hat auch den Inhalt: Realisie
rung des Heiratsantrags, nachdem dieser im Aktionsteil gescheitert
st. Die Reaktion scheitert ebenso wie die A k t i o n , so da der mitbe
t r o f f e n e Patiens ubukov einspringen mu, um die von allen A k t e u r e n
gewnschte Situationsvernderung, den bergang vom Zustand des
Unverheiratetseins in den des Verheiratetseins f r die beiden Haupt
a k t e u r e , schlielich doch noch zustande zu b r i n g e n .

Um die situationsverndernde Bewegungskraft der Grundhandlung zu

veranschaulichen, sei sie in folgendem Schema dargestellt:
 312

Tabelle 1

Heiratsantrag:
Aktion Reaktion Hilfe
S1 S2
neg. neg. pos.

Vater von der

des unv. Tochter
weibl. Teils befreit

Die dramatische Handlung als Einheit von Aktion und Reaktion sieht
in diesem Stck, wie das Schema zeigt, drei Handlungsrollen v o r , den
Aktionstrger Lomov, die Reaktionstrgerin Natal'ja und den Helfer
ubukov. Die 'undramatische*, d.h. konfliktlose Beschaffenheit der
Grundhandlung des Stcks wird aus der identischen semantischen Be
setzung des Handlungsziels (Heiratsantrag) jedes der drei Rollentrger
ersichtlich. Die Tatsache, da es eines Helfers bedarf, um trotz der
identischen Handlungsziele der Hauptakteure schlielich die Handlungs
realisation zu erreichen, weist darauf h i n , da handlungsexterne Hin
dernisse die Realisation der Aktivitten der Hauptakteure behindern.
Die konfliktlose Handlungsstruktur wird besonders deutlich, wenn wir
in das formale Handlungsschema die drei Arten des personalen Hand
lungsnexus einfhren.

Der "innere kausal-finale Nexus", der zur Entstehung der Initiativ

bewegung durch die Aktion f h r t , liegt in dem Aktionstrger Lomov,
der dadurch zur Hauptfigur des Stcks w i r d . Die innere Ursache, die
Handlungsvorstellung (Heiratsantrag stellen), Handlungswunsch (Ver
heiratetsein) und Handlungsentscheidung hervortreibt, ist dreierlei
Art: Lomov f h l t sich, obwohl krperlich gesund, subjektiv krnklich
und f h r t dies auf sein ungeregeltes Leben als Junggeselle zurck.
Der Heiratsantrag als Mittel, den bergang vom Zustand des Unver
heiratetseins (Situation 1 = Ausgangssituation der Handlung) in den
 313

des Verheiratetseins zu vollziehen (Situation 2 = Schlusituation nach

11
dem Durchgang durch Aktion und Reaktion) , e n t s p r i n g t dem a k t u e l
len Hier und Jetzt der Lebenssituation ( S . ) des A k t i o n s t r g e r s , denn
Lomov ist f n f u n d d r e i i g Jahre alt und damit in einem kritischen A l
ter, wo sich entscheidet, ob eine Heirat berhaupt noch zustande
kommen k a n n . Zu der inneren Emotion (Leiden am Krperzustand) und
dem ueren Druck des Lebensalters ( j e t z t oder nie) gesellt sich als
drittes tatantreibendes Motiv die als verbindliche Handlungsnorm i n -
ternalisierte gesellschaftliche Wertschtzung des Ehestands, die in Lo
mov den moralischen Zwang erzeugt, den A k t der Heirat in seinem
Leben unbedingt vollziehen zu mssen. Alle drei Motive zusammen
t r e i b e n die Wahl der Aktionsart ( I n h a l t der A k t i o n ) und die Entschei
dung zum Vollzug (im Hier und Jetzt der Ausgangssituation) hervor.

Zu dem dreifachen Kausalnexus der Aktion t r i t t eine finale V o r s t e l l u n g ,

die als sekundres emotionales Motiv (im Gegensatz zum Hauptmotiv
des Leidens am Krperzustand ist dieses aus der Zielvorstellung des
Handelns hervorgehende emotionale Motiv positiv g e f r b t ) den Hand
lungswunsch und die Entschlukraft bestrkt: Lomov v e r b i n d e t mit
dem Handlungswunsch eine Vorstellung von dem Ziel des Handelns,
die eine solche Lebenssituation zum Inhalt h a t , worin er als v e r h e i
rateter Mann a u f g r u n d des dann erreichten regelmigen Lebensab
laufs von seinen Krperleiden befreit ist. Zwischen dem kausalen und
dem finalen Strang des inneren Nexus besteht somit im Element des
Krperzustands eine komplementre Beziehung: Das Leiden am gege
benen Krperzustand soll durch die mit dem Handeln erreichte neue
Krperverfassung behoben werden. Die Schlusituation des Stcks
zeigt, da gerade diese komplementre Beziehung zwischen gegebenem
Ausgangszustand des Krpers der H a u p t f i g u r und erreichtem Endzu
stand in der Schlusituation des Verheiratetseins nicht e r f l l t w i r d :
Die Aktion gelingt u e r l i c h , ihr inneres Handlungsziel wird aber nicht
erreicht, im Gegenteil, es ist abzusehen, da sich Lomovs Krper
leiden in der Ehe mit Natal'ja noch verschlechtern w i r d .

Die innere S t r u k t u r des kausal-finalen Handlungsnexus von Seiten der

H a u p t f i g u r wird noch verkompliziert durch eine innere Hierarchisierung
 314

der Handlungsmotive. Diese Hierarchisierung geschieht auf dreierlei

A r t : 1 . Das Kausalmotiv des moralischen Normdrucks zur Heirat, das
auf Lomov einwirkt, ist in seinen Wertelementen kontrr und kontra-
12
diktorisch gestaltet . So nennt Lomov in einer Abwgung der Grnde
des normativen Heiratsverhaltens die "ideale Liebe", aufgefat als
Liebe zur Person des Ehepartners, und die Vergrerung und A b -
rundung des Familienbesitzes. Das Ideal der Liebesemotion wird von
Lomov negiert und durch das Wertmoment des Familienbesitzes ersetzt:
Lomov heiratet die Tochter des benachbarten Gutsbesitzers ubukov
nicht aus Liebe, sondern weil sich die beiden Gter gut miteinander
ergnzen. 2. Der gesellschaftliche Wert der Ehe als Institution ist f r
Lomov durch die Internalisierung zu einem obersten Handlungsgebot
geworden, das aufgrund der ablaufenden Lebenszeit jetzt und hier
erfllt werden mu, ungeachtet der Tatsache, da Lomov die sich
anbietende Ehekandidatin nicht liebt. Die Ehe stellt somit eine Wert
hierarchie dreier Wertelemente dar mit dem gesellschaftlichen Wert der
Eheinstitution an der Spitze, dem Familienbesitz an zweiter Stelle und
der Liebe an d r i t t e r und unterster Stelle. Der jeweils hhere Wert in
der Hierarchie kann den jeweils niedrigeren kompensieren. 3. Die in
sich hierarchserte Wertstruktur wird als Handlungsnorm funktionali-
siert in bezug auf das Krperbefinden der Hauptfigur: Indem Lomov
sich zur Heirat entschliet, will er seinen schlechten Krperzustand
beheben. Dadurch wird im subjektiven Handlungsverhalten Lomovs der
Wertgehalt der Ehe, der aufgrund seiner besonderen S t r u k t u r eine
berpersonale Wertart darstellt, dem Wertgehalt des Krpers, der ein
individueller, an die biologische Existenz der Person gebundener Wert
ist, untergeordnet. Kurz gesagt, Lomov macht sich die gesellschaftliche
Institution der Ehe zunutze, um seinen Krperzustand zu verbessern.
Die Tatsache, da er sein inneres Handlungsziel nicht erreicht, er
scheint dann wie eine Strafe f r den Mibrauch der Eheinstitution.

Der "pragmatische innerlich-uere Nexus" b e t r i f f t die Reaktionsakti

vitt Natal'jas. Nachdem Natal'ja von der Absicht des Heiratsantrags
erfahren hat, bernimmt sie selbst die Initiative, um die ueren und
inneren Umstnde zur Realisierung des Heiratsantrags wiederherzustel-
 315

len, die sie im Aktionsverlauf in Unkenntnis der Absicht Lomovs zer

strt hatte. Sie lt den zuvor vertriebenen Lomov zurckholen und
berlegt, wie sie ihn dazu bringen kann, den Heiratsantrag auszu
sprechen. Der uere Nexus liegt d a r i n , da Natal'ja n a c h Lo
movs Aktionsversuch und w e g e n dessen Scheitern aktiv w i r d ,
der innere Nexus liegt d a r i n , da sie in bezug auf die Heirat in einer
der Lebenssituation Lomovs analogen Lage ist: Sie ist fnfundzwanzig
Jahre alt, was f r sie als Frau ein ebenso kritisches Datum ist wie
die fnfunddreiig Jahre f r Lomov; sie unterliegt wie Lomov dem
Normzwang zur Ehe, wobei der institutionelle Wert innerhalb der die
Norm darstellenden Werthierarchie eindeutig die fehlende Liebesemotion
v e r t r i t t , whrend das Wertmoment des Familienbesitzes von ihrer Seite
aus nicht erwhnt w i r d ; hinsichtlich des dritten Handlungsmotivs des
Krperleidens zeigt sich bei Natal'ja jedoch eine Umkehrung im Ver
gleich zu Lomov: Whrend Lomov unter der Unregelmigkeit des Jung
gesellenlebens leidet und sich von der Regelmigkeit des Ehelebens
Abhilfe v e r s p r i c h t , zeigt sich die unverheiratete Natal'ja im Vollbesitz
ihrer Krpervitalitt, und nur die Aussicht, da die pltzlich nahege
rckte Heirat n i c h t zustandekommen knnte, t r e i b t sie in einen
Hysteriezustand.

Da trotz des identischen Handlungswillens die Aktion und Reaktion

nicht Zustandekommen, greift der Vater Natal'jas als Helfer ein. Auch
f r diese Helferaktivitt kann man einen "pragmatischen uerlich-in
neren Nexus" rekonstruieren. Das Lebensalter der Tochter ist f r
den Vater ein Signal, die sich anbietende Gelegenheit zur Verheiratung
sofort zu ergreifen; der Verheiratungszwang besteht f r ihn aufgrund
desselben Normdrucks der Eheinstitution wie f r die Haupthandlungs
trger, so da er die Frage nach der Liebe zwischen den Partnern
13
nur beilufig und scherzhaft erwhnt ; und schlielich scheint das
Zusammenleben mit der vitalen Tochter seine Gesundheit und seine
Nerven angegriffen zu haben, so da die Gelegenheit, sie loszuwer
den, gleichbedeutend ist mit der krperlichen und seelischen Befrei
ung. Die beiden erstgenannten Motive bewirken, da Cubukov auf
den Antrag Lomovs sofort eingeht und Natal'ja herbeiruft, damit die
 316

Handlung der Heirat realisiert werden kann. Das letztgenannte Motiv

ergibt sich aus dem pragmatischen Nexus des Handlungsverlaufs:
Nachdem er erfahren hat, da die Haupthandlungstrger zur Realisie
rung der Handlung nicht imstande sind, leistet er ihnen Hilfestellung,
um sich von beiden zu befreien.

Otakar Zich ist der Meinung, da eine Reaktionshandlung, die sich

der voraufgegangenen Aktionshandlung nach Inhalt und ideellem Ge
halt vllig anschliet, keine dramatische Handlung begrnden knne.
Bei einer solchen Reaktionsform werde der Reaktionstrger zum Ver
bndeten des Aktionstrgers, und beide zusammen bilden eigentlich
eine "kollektive Person". Es bedrfe, damit eine echte dramatische
Handlung entsteht, einer dritten Person, auf die sich das Handeln
14
der "kollektiven Person" beziehe . Da nach der Tradition des Lust
spiels in der Personenkonstellation Braut-Brutigam-Vater der Vater
eine hufige Quelle von Widerstnden gegen die Heiratshandlung b i l
det, beruft der Einakter von echov einerseits die traditionelle Rollen
erwartung ab, negiert sie aber zweimal (in der Hilfeleistung des Vaters
beim Realisieren des Antrags und beim Vollzug der T r a u u n g ) ; gleich
zeitig wird der Umfang des Begriffs der "kollektiven Person" von den
Handlungstrgern auf die Nebenperson des Helfers erweitert. Dadurch
wird deutlich, da es in der gezeigten Welt des Stcks zur Handlungs
norm und den dahinter stehenden Wertvorstellungen keine Alternative
gibt .
Zur Verdeutlichung des Begriffs der "kollektiven Person", der in die
sem Stck die drei handelnden Personen umfat, sei in das Schema
der Grundhandlung der f r jeden Handlungsteil relevante Nexus und
die Norm-Wertstruktur, an der sich das Handeln jeder Person orien
t i e r t , eingefhrt:
 317

Tabelle 2

Lomov: Aktion: Natal'ja: Reaktion:

uere Situation Heiratsantrag uere Situation Herbeifhrung

- 35 J . , k r i t i - 25 J . , k r i t i des Heiratsan
sches Heirats- sches Heirats- trages
alter alter

innere Situation Zielvorstel innere Situation Zielvorstel

- krperlich lung: - vital lung:
krnkelnd Verbesserung Vermeidung
des Krperzu der Hysterie
Normdruck: man stands Normdruck: man
mu heiraten mu heiraten

Wertstruktur: Wertstruktur:
institutionaler institutionaler
Wert der Ehe, Werte der Ehe
Wert des Fami
lienbesitzes,
Negation des Negation des
Liebesideals Liebesideals

ubukov: Hilfe bei A und R Hilfe nach A, R

uere Situation der

Tochter: 25 J . , k r i
tisches Verheiratungs
alter

innere Situation: Zielvorstellung: Zielvorstellung:

geschwcht durch Befreiung von Befreiung von
Zusammenleben mit Tochter Tochter
Tochter

Normdruck: man mu
die Tochter verheiraten

Wertstruktur:
institutionaler Wert der
Ehe,
Wert des Familienbe
sitzes, Negation des
Liebesideals
 318

Tabelle 3

S2

Lomov: Natal'ja: ubukov:

innere Situation - innere Situation - innere Situation -

Krperzustand ver Hysterie vermieden, Ursache der Schw
schlimmert, Ziel erreicht chung e n t f e r n t ,
Ziel nicht erreicht Ziel erreicht

Aus der schematischen Darstellung geht hervor, da die Personen des

Stcks in bezug auf die ideelle Wertstruktur der identischen Hand
lungsvorstellung ein und diesselbe Position v e r t r e t e n : Alle drei stellen
den institutionellen Wert der Ehe und (bei Natal'ja ist dies nur anzu
nehmen) den Wert des Familienbesitzes ber das Liebesideal, und alle
drei haben die allgemeine Wertvorstellung der Ehe als Handlungsnorm
in ihrem eigenen Leben internalisiert. Differenzen ergeben sich nur
hinsichtlich der Krpersituation jedes der d r e i : Lomov befindet sich in
einem subjektiv schlechten Krperzustand und verfolgt mit der Hand
lung eine Situationsverbesserung; Natal'ja befindet sich krperlich in
einer guten Verfassung und will durch die Handlung die drohende
Hysterie vermeiden; Cubukov befindet sich in einer Krperverfassung,
die der Lomovs hnelt, und will sich durch die Verheiratung Natal'jas
verbessern. Zieht man in Rechnung, wozu der Text suggeriert, da
Natal'ja die Ursache f r die Krperverfassung ubukovs ist, so wird
klar, da Lomov mit der Wahl dieser Ehepartnerin sein eigentliches
Handlungsziel verfehlen mu.

b) Die Handlungskomposition in "Predloenie"

Unter Komposition im Bereich der Kunst verstehe ich eine solche A n

ordnung von Elementen, bei der die knstlerischen Verfahren (chudo-
zestvennye priemy) angewendet werden mit dem Ziel, aus dem so an
geordneten Ensemble von Elementen ein sthetisch wirksames Ganzes
 319

16
zu machen . Whrend in dem v o r a n g e g a n g e n e n Untersuchungsschritt
die l o g i s c h - f a k t i s c h e O r d n u n g d e r Handlungselemente (ordo naturalis)
und ihre Wert- und Sinnstruktur betrachtet wurde, steht nun die
knstliche Ordnung (ordo artificialis) zur Untersuchung a n , die sich
im K u n s t w e r k d e r n a t r l i c h e n O r d n u n g des F a k t e n m a t e r i a l s ( h i e r : der
Handlung) berlagert, um aus d e r W e c h s e l w i r k u n g zwischen den b e i
den O r d n u n g s p r i n z i p i e n die s t h e t i s c h e W i r k s a m k e i t d e r g e g e b e n e n
17
Werkebene zu beziehen . Nach der L e h r e d e r r u s s i s c h e n Formalisten
gehen alle knstlerischen Verfahren auf die beiden Grundverfahren
18
von Symmetrie und Gradation z u r c k . Die G r a d a t i o n w i r d d a z u b e
ntzt, die dem F a k t e n m a t e r i a l i n h r e n t e S p a n n u n g zu s t e i g e r n . Da in
echovs S t c k die H a n d l u n g k o n f l i k t - u n d damit s p a n n u n g s l o s gebaut
ist, spielt das Gradationsverfahren in der Kompositionsbildung kaum
eine R o l l e . Das H a u p t v e r f a h r e n d e r H a n d l u n g s k o m p o s i t i o n ist hier die
Symmetrie.

Das Symmetrieverfahren kommt insbesondere an einem Element der

Handlung zur Anwendung, das - a n g e s i c h t s der bereinstimmung im
ideellen Bereich bei allen Personen - als e i n z i g e s k o n t r a s t f h i g ist
( a b g e s e h e n v o n den K r p e r k o n t r a s t e n ) : dem Element des Wissens. Das
Spiel mit dem Wissensstand einer handelnden Person gehrt zu den
traditionellen Spieleffekten des Dramas u n d h a t in d e r t r a g i s c h e n G a t
tung die W i r k u n g s v a r i a n t e der tragischen Ironie, in der komischen
Gattung die der komischen Verwicklung herausgebildet. In beiden
Fllen h a n d e l t es s i c h zumeist d a r u m , da eine Person in Unkenntnis
d e r v o l l e n S i t u a t i o n s u m s t n d e etwas t u t o d e r s a g t , was sie bei v o l l e r
19
Kenntnis der Sachlage nicht tun oder sagen wrde . Bei echov
wird dieses szenisch effektvolle Verfahren auf eine b e s o n d e r e Weise
variiert und kompliziert: Eine Person s a g t e t w a s , was sie n i c h t w i l l ,
weil sie n i c h t um d i e v o l l e n S i t u a t i o n s u m s t n d e w e i ; als sie um diese
wei, sagt sie d a s , was sie nicht will, weiterhin. Die kontrastive
Strukturierung der Elemente des Wissens, Wollens und Sagens wird
d u r c h variierende Wiederholung symmetrisch berformt,
u n d aus d i e -
20
ser U b e r f o r m u n g e n t s t e h t die H a n d l u n g s k o m p o s i t i o n des S t c k s
 320

Aus der genannten S t r u k t u r k e t t e bilden die beiden Elemente des Wis

sens und Wollens die personale Bewutseinshaltung, mit der eine han
delnde Person sich zur Zentralhandlung einstellt. Aus dieser Bewut
seinshaltung entspringt auch die momentane Sprechorientierung der
21
Person . Alle Personen des Stcks sind in bezug auf die Grundhand
lung des Stcks positiv eingestellt, sie alle wollen, da die Heirat
realisiert w i r d . Aus dieser Grundeinstellung des Wollens ergibt sich,
da sie ihr momentanes Verhalten (im Sprechen) so einstellen, da es
dem Handlungswillen entspricht. Oder, anders gesagt, sie wollen nichts
sagen, was ihrem Handlungswillen widerspricht. Das Wissensmotiv ist
demgegenber schwankend angelegt: Es oszilliert zwischen Nicht-Wis
sen, Wissen und Vergessen. Das Nicht-Wissen und das Vergessen mo
t i v i e r e n , da die Personen etwas sagen, was in Gegensatz zu ihrem
Handlungswillen steht. Die schwankende Gestaltung des Wissensmotivs
bewirkt somit, da Grundeinstellung des Wollens und Sprechorientie
rung nicht koordiniert sind.
Im Verlauf der sieben Szenen des Stcks kommt es dabei zu folgenden
Sequenzen und sequenziellen Konstellationen:

Tabelle 4

I
Lomov - wei, was er tun w i l l ;
sagt, was er sagen will
ubukov - e r f h r t , was L. tun w i l l ; wei, was er tun will;
S1 sagt, was er sagen will

II
Lomov - wei, was er tun w i l l ;
sagt, was er will

IM
Lomov - vergit, was er tun w i l l ;
sagt, was er nicht sagen will
Natal'ja - wei nicht, was L. tun w i l l ;
sagt, was sie nicht sagen wollte,
wenn sie wte
 321

IV.
A
Lomov - v e r g i t , was er tun w i l l ;
sagt, was er nicht sagen w i l l ,
- wei nicht, was L. tun will
Natal'ja sagt, was sie nicht sagen wollte,
wenn sie wte
- vergit, was er tun w i l l ;
ubukov sagt, was er nicht sagen will

V
P
Natal'ja - e r f h r t , was L. tun w i l l ; wei, was sie tun w i l l ;
sagt, was sie sagen will

VI
Lomov - vergit, was er tun w i l l ;
sagt, was er nicht sagen will
Natal'ja - vergit, was sie tun w i l l ;
sagt, was sie nicht sagen will
R
V I I : erste Hlfte
Lomov - vergit, was er tun w i l l ;
sagt, was er nicht sagen will
Natal'ja - v e r g i t , was sie tun w i l l ;
sagt, was sie nicht sagen will
ubukov - vergit, was er tun w i l l ;
sagt, was er nicht sagen will

V I I : zweite Hlfte
Lomov - wei nicht, da er t u t , was er w i l l ;
sagt nichts;
sagt, da er das tun w i l l , was er ohne Wissen
S2
getan hat
Natal'ja - ebenso
ubukov - wei, was er tun w i l l ;
sagt, was er will

S1 = Ausgangssituation; A = A k t i o n ; P = Peripetie; R = Reaktion;

S2 = Schlusituation

Aus den Sequenzen wird ersichtlich, da das Stck um die Drehachse

des bergangs der Aktion in die Reaktion verteilungssymmetrisch kon
s t r u i e r t ist: Die Szenen l-IV lenken die Zuschauerperspektive auf den
 322

Agens der Grundaktion des Heiratsantrags und Trger des Aktions

teils im Handlungsverlauf, Lomov. In den Szenen I und II orientiert
er sein Sprechverhalten an dem, was er tun w i l l , indem er (in I) den
Schwiegervater in spe, ubukov, ber seine Heiratsabsichten aufklrt
und (in II) seine Motivationen f r den Heiratsentschlu auflistet, um
22
sich selbst in seinem Handlungswillen zu bestrken . In III versucht
er, ber den Heiratsantrag mit Natal'ja als dem Patiens der Grundak
tion zu sprechen, lt sich dann aber davon abbringen und spricht
hier wie auch in IV von etwas anderem (der "Ochsenwiese"), was mit
der Handlung nichts zu tun hat und deren Realisierung sogar in Fra
ge stellt. Man knnte vermuten, da die Realisierungsphasen des Ak
tionsteils ( I I I , IV) an Natal'jas Unwissen in bezug auf den Aktionsvor
gang scheitern (sie hat ubukovs Anspielung auf den Heiratsantrag
miverstanden und miversteht auch Lomovs Verbalisierungsversuche
der Heiratsabsicht (in III). Die Tatsache jedoch, da zwei Akteure
(Lomov und ubukov) in dieser Konstellation die Handlungsabsicht,
von der sie schon wissen, vergessen, lt darauf schlieen, da es
nicht das Nicht-Wissen ist, was die Aktionsrealisierung verhindert.
Die Szenen V-VM (erste Hlfte) lenken die Zuschauerperspektive auf
Natal'ja als den Trger des Reaktionsteils. In V findet in ihr eine
Bewutseinsperipetie statt, sie e r f h r t , da sie in den zwei vorange
gangenen Szenen ( I I I , IV) in der Rolle der Adressatin eines Heirats-
antrags gestanden hat, und dies lst auch eine Peripetie der Hand
lungsinitiative aus: Sie bernimmt in VI die Fhrung, um die Realisa
tion des Heiratsantrags zustande zu bringen. Im weiteren Szenenablauf
vergit aber auch die Reaktionstrgerin wie zuvor schon der Aktions
trger, was sie ber die Handlungsaufgabe wei, und alle Akteure
zusammen sagen schlielich, was sie eigentlich nicht sagen wollen (in
der ersten Hlfte von V I I ) : Sie zerstreiten sich ber die Qualitten
ihrer Hunde Otkataj und Ugadaj, so da auch die Reaktion nicht reali
siert w i r d . Durch die symmetrische Konstruktion wird klar, da das
anfngliche Nicht-Wissen Natal'jas f r das NichtZustandekommen der
Handlung nicht verantwortlich ist, denn nach ihrer Bewutseinsperi
petie wiederholt sich - bei identischer Abfolge der Personenkonstella-
 323

tion zwischen den Szenen III, IV und V I , VII erste Hlfte -die sequen-
zielle Entwicklung der Motive der personalen Bewutseinshaltung und
der Sprechorientierung (vom Wissen zum Vergessen und Sagen, was
man nicht will) auch bei i h r , so, wie es im ersten Handlungsteil schon
bei Lomov und Cubukov geschehen ist, was sich im zweiten Hand
lungsteil dann brigens noch einmal an diesen wiederholt.

In bezug auf personale Bewutseinshaltung und Sprechorientierung

sowie die sie tragenden Motive stellt die zweite Hlfte der siebenten
Szene, die das Stckfinale (S 2 ) enthlt, eine ironische Pointe dar:
Nachdem die Hauptakteure in allen voraufgegangenen Szenen mit klarem
oder unklarem Bewutsein um ihre eigentlichen Handlungsintentionen
das Falsche gesagt und damit das gewollte Tun verhindert haben,
realisieren sie n u n , ohne es zu wissen (Lomov kt Natal'ja, wei
aber nicht, was es bedeutet), ihre Handlungsabsicht; die Sprechhand
lung fllt dabei zunchst aus, und erst im Nachhinein besttigen die
Hauptakteure, da sie soeben das getan haben, was sie schon lange
tun wollten. Die Handlungsrealisierung kommt hier durch die Initiative
des Nebenakteurs und Helfers Cubukov zustande, der zum ersten Mal
im ganzen Stckverlauf bei sich die personale Bewutseinshaltung und
die Sprechorientierung richtig koordiniert.

Nachdem die Analyse der Handlungsstruktur des Stcks offenbart

hat, d a eine grundstzlich konfliktlose Handlungssituation in
der Realisierungsphase der Handlung dennoch scheitert, zeigt uns die
Analyse der Kompositionsform der Handlung, w o d u r c h das
Scheitern bewirkt w i r d : durch die falsche Koordinierung von Hand
lungswillen und Sprechorientierung, welche durch den Ausfall der Be
wutseinskomponente der Akteure bedingt w i r d . Es ist in diesem Stck
nicht - wie sonst im Lustspiel blich - das falsche oder fehlende Wis
sen der Akteure, das ihr handlungsverhinderndes Sprechverhalten
hervorbringt und das durch die Korrektur des Wissens gleicherweise
korrigiert werden kann. Sondern es ist die Irrelevanz des Wissens,
die bewirkt, da die Personen ber ihr Sprechverhalten die Kontrolle
verlieren; das vom Bewutsein und dessen Wissen und Wollen unkon
trollierte Sprechen verselbstndigt sich und f h r t dann seinerseits
 324

dazu, da das Bewutsein die Gewiheit dessen, was es gewut hat,

verliert; die Personen vergessen, da sie einen klaren, bewuten
Handlungswillen verfolgt haben, und sprechen so, da sich die Wir
kung ihrer Rede schlielich gegen ihr erklrtes Handlungswollen
. +23 .
kehrt

11. Die Ebene des dramatischen Dialogs

Wir hatten oben gesagt, da die Handlung als die traditionelle Domi
nante des dramatischen Werkaufbaus gegen die Gestaltmglichkeiten
der direkten Rede der Personen ankmpft, um diese in den Hintergrund
und sich selbst und die eigenen Gestaltpotentiale frei zu setzen und
in den Vordergrund der Aufmerksamkeit des Rezipienten zu stellen.
Inhaltlich macht sich die Dominanz der Handlung darin geltend, da
sie die direkten Personenreden zum Instrument in der Handlungs
d u r c h f h r u n g degradiert. Dies bedeutet, da die Personen im Drama
soviel reden und ber solche Themen, die der Entwicklung der einzel
nen Handlungsphasen entsprechen.

Die Wechselbeziehung von Handlung und direkter Personenrede kann

man an den Begriffen der personalen Bewutseinshaltung und der

Sprechorientierung festmachen, die schon im vorangehenden Unter

suchungsabschnitt eingefhrt wurden. Die Bewutseinsebene einer
Person leistet, genau betrachtet, eine zweifache Orientierung: 1. die
Orientierung an langfristigen Situationszielen und 2. diejenige an
kurzfristigen Situationszielen. Die langfristigen Situationsziele betref
fen die gesamte Lebenseinstellung einer Person, die durch die Hand
lungsschritte dieser Person ausgedrckt w i r d , die kurzfristigen be
treffen die momentane Situationseinstellung, worin die Person auf ihr
aktuelles Hier und Jetzt reagiert. Dementsprechend ist die Handlung
in einem Drama eine Angelegenheit der langfristigen Orientierung - in
dieser Orientierung wird der gesamte vergangene und zuknftige Le
benslauf einer Person in Interferenz mit den Lebenslufen der ihr
konfrontierten Person(en) berschaut und aktiv gestaltet; daher kommt
 325

hier auch das Moment der kreativen Vorwegnahme von zuknftigen

Situationen in der Wunschvorstellung der handelnden Personen zum
Zuge, w o r a n s i c h das H a n d e l n , das ja m e h r e r e Z e i t - und Aktivitts
phasen d u r c h l a u f e n mu ( z u m i n d e s t z w e i : die A k t i o n s - u n d Reaktions
phase), wie an einem stetigen Fixpunkt orientiert. Bewutsein und
Willen mssen eine D a u e r a n s t r e n g u n g auf sich n e h m e n , um k o n s e q u e n t
eine einheitliche Handlungseinstellung der Person zu gewhrleisten,
die das E r r e i c h e n des einmal g e s e t z t e n Zieles d u r c h die wechselnden
Situationsbewegungen hindurch mglich macht. Die Person ist aber
s i m u l t a n zu d i e s e r l a n g f r i s t i g e n H a n d l u n g s e i n s t e l l u n g in eine kurzzeit
liche Kette stndig wechselnder Jetztmomente eingelassen, worin sie
sich e b e n f a l l s o r i e n t i e r e n und aktiv verhalten mu. Diese K e t t e suk
zessiver Jetzt- ( u n d H i e r - ) m o m e n t e i s t d i e A n g e l e g e n h e i t der direkten
Rede der Person und der Wechselrede im d r a m a t i s c h e n D i a l o g . Die
Dauereinstellung des B e w u t s e i n s auf die g r o r u m i g e S i t u a t i o n s - und
Handlungslage mu sich dem schnell w e c h s e l n d e n Dialogverhalten der
Person mitteilen, was d u r c h die O r i e n t i e r u n g s l e i s t u n g geschieht. Die
Sprechaktivitt u n d die H a n d l u n g s a k t i v i t t b i l d e n somit zwei e i n a n d e r
parallele Zeitebenen, deren eine g r o r u m i g e und langfristige Bewe
gungen impliziert (die Handlungsaktivitt), w h r e n d die a n d e r e kurz
fristige Bewegungsablufe im Hin und Wider der wechselnden Rede
uerungen impliziert. Die abgestimmte d o p p e l t e O r i e n t i e r u n g bewirkt
24
d i e K o o r d i n i e r u n g d e r b e i d e n Zeitebenen

Wenn H a n d l u n g g e n e r e l l ein K r f t e s p i e l z w i s c h e n zwei o d e r mehr S i t u a

tionspartnern zum Zweck einer beliebigen Situationsvernderung ist
und dramatische Handlung ein solcher Krfteaustausch, worin zwei
( o d e r m e h r ) an g e g e n s t z l i c h e n I n t e r e s s e n o r i e n t i e r t e S i t u a t i o n s p a r t n e r
eine Situationsvernderung herbeifhren wollen, die fr den einen
zum Nachteil u n d den a n d e r e n zum V o r t e i l a u s f l l t , so i s t die d i a l o g i
sche W e c h s e l r e d e , je nach d e r H a n d l u n g s l a g e d e r S p r e c h e n d e n , e b e n
falls entweder ein bloes v e r b a l e s Krftespiel o d e r a b e r ein dramati
scher Wortkampf, w o r i n e i n e r den a n d e r e n mit d e r K r a f t d e r Rede f r
seine eigene Interessenposition berreden oder bezwingen will. Der
Dialog i s t d a h e r e n t w e d e r bloe W o r t h a n d l u n g (Sprechhandlung) oder
 326

aber Wortkampfhandlung, und insofern das Kampfelement f r die d r a

matische Gattung spezifisch ist, ist die Wortkampfhandlung dramatische
Rede. Der Unterschied zwischen der dramatischen Handlung und der
dramatischen Wortkampfhandlung ist dann der, da die Handlung eine
nach greren Zeitrumen bemessene Situationsvernderung herbei
fhrt, whrend die Wortkampfhandlung kleine, schnelle Situationsver
nderungen bewirkt. Bei der dramatischen Handlung geht es um einen
einmaligen, langfristige Vernderungen zeitigenden Schlagaustausch
der Kmpfenden, beim Dialog geht es um eine Kette vielzhliger
Schlagwechsel mit jeweils kurzfristigen Auswirkungen. Soweit jedoch
der Dialog Instrument der Handlung ist und seine grundlegende Si
tuationsorientierung an der Bewutseinshaltung der Handelnden aus
richtet, nehmen die vielzhligen kleinen Situationsvernderungen im
Feld der dialogischen Wechselrede eine einheitliche Richtung an, die
der Handlungsrichtung folgt.

Die Verbindung zwischen dem verbalen und dem auerverbalen Hand

lungsverhalten, das jenes zu seinem Instrument macht, wird durch die
orientierende Kraft des Bewutseins geleistet. Die Wert-Normstruktu
ren, die handlungsleitend werden, gelten daher identisch auch f r
das verbale Handeln einer Person, falls es gelingt, da die Kurzzeit-
und Langzeitorientierung im Bewutsein koordiniert werden.

Andererseits, wenn sich zeigt, da das verbale Verhalten der Perso

nen andere Ziele verfolgt als das nicht-verbale in derselben persona
len Konstellation, dann mu die Ursache hierfr in einem Versagen
der koordinierenden Leistung des Bewutseins gesucht werden. In
"Predlozenie" ist der Fall gegeben, da die Personen sich als Handeln
de einig sind (eine "Kollektivperson" bilden), als Sprechhandelnde je
doch miteinander in Streit geraten, der sogar zugespitzt wird bis zu
Kampf und (Schein-)Tod. Der Dialog in "Predlozenie" erfllt damit
die Bedingungen der Dramatik, whrend die Handlung undramatisch
ist. Die Ursachen f r die dahinter stehende falsche Koordinierung der
Langzeit- und Kurzzeitorientierung der Personen soll in der Analyse
der dramatischen Dialogstruktur ermittelt werden.
 327

a) Die S t r u k t u r des dramatischen Dialogs

Wenn die direkten Reden der Personen im Drama ihrer Dienstfunktion

gegenber der Handlung gerecht werden sollen, so mssen sie sich
den einzelnen Phasen des Handlungsverlaufs hinsichtlich der Wahl der
Redepartner und Redethemen, der Wahl der die Redethemen ausdrk-
kenden Worte und deren intendierter und tatschlichen Wirkung auf
den Redepartner anpassen. In "Predloenie" versuchen die Sprechen
den, die von der jeweils anstehenden Handlungsphase erforderten
Funktionen ihres Sprechverhaltens zu erfllen; sie haben die Absicht,
so zu sprechen, wie es ihrem Handlungswillen entspricht. Das sprach
reaktive Verhalten ihres Redepartners b r i n g t sie jedoch von diesem
Versuch ab und bewirkt sogar, da sie vergessen, da sie in die
kommunikative Sprechsituation eingetreten sind mit dem Willen, ihre
Handlungsabsichten zu realisieren. Die intendierte und tatschlich
erzielte Sprachreaktion des jeweiligen Gegenbers treten auseinander;
die Tatsache ihres Auseinandertretens wird aber nur dem Zuschauer,
nicht den Sprechern selber bewut. Daher tun die Sprecher auch
nichts, um dem weiteren Dialogverlauf die anfnglich intendierte f u n k
tionale Richtung zurckzugeben. Im Gegenteil: Sie lassen sich selber
von der Reaktionsantwort des Gegenbers in eine neue Zielrichtung
bringen, die ihr weiteres Sprechverhalten f r die Gesamtdauer der
Kommunikationsverbindung bestimmt. Schematisch lt sich dieser Me
chanismus der Funktionsverweigerung des Dialogs gegenber der Hand
lung folgendermaen veranschaulichen:

Tabelle 5

S1 A

1 . Funktion des Dialogs: Funktion des Dialogs:

uere pragmatische Situations- uere pragmatische Situations

zubereitung f r Aktion Zubereitung f r Aktion
Redethema: Heiratsabsicht Redethema: Heiratsabsicht

Partner: Vater als sekundrer
Aktionspatiens
Intendierte Reaktion:
Zustimmung zur Aktion und
Ttigwerden als Helfer
2. Funktion des Dialogs:
innere kausal-finale Situations
zubereitung des Aktionstrgers
Redethema: Aktionsmotive
Partner: das eigene Ich des
Aktionstrgers
Intendierte Reaktion:
Bekrftigung des Aktionsent
schlusses
(Szenen I,II)
Erfolg: Die beiden Funktionen
werden e r f l l t .
R S2
Funktion des Dialogs:
uere pragmatische Situations
zubereitung f r Aktionsvoll
endung
Redethema: Erinnerung an
Heiratsabsicht
Partner: Lomov als Trger
der Aktion
Intendierte Reaktion:
Wiederaufnahme des Redethemas
der Heiratsabsicht
(Szene V I )
Die Funktion wird nicht e r f l l t :
Das Redethema bleibt unvoll
endet; beide Sprechpartner
vergessen das ursprngliche
Funktionsziel und geben dem
Dialog ein neues Ziel: Ver
teidigung der Besitzerehre.
Der Helfer schliet sich dem
neuen Redeziel an ( V I I , erste
Hlfte)
328
Partner: Natal'ja als Aktionspatiens
Intendierte Reaktion:
Zustimmung zur Aktion und
Ttigwerden als Reaktionstrger
(Szene I I I )
Die Funktion wird nicht e r f l l t :
Das Redethema bleibt unvollendet;
Natal'ja unterbricht den Aktions
t r g e r , bevor sie seine Aktions
absicht begriffen hat; sie gibt dem
Dialog ein neues Funktionsziel:
Verteidigung des Familienbesitzes.
Der Aktionstrger lt sich auf
das neue Funktionsziel ein und ver
git das ursprngliche Redeziel.
Der Helfer schliet sich dem neuen
Redeziel an ( I V ) . Durch Zufall
vollendet er das von Lomov (in
III) begonnene Redethema ( V )
Funktions des Dialogs:
uere pragmatische Situations
zubereitung f r Vollendung von
Aktion und Reaktion
Redethema: Formeln des Heirats
vollzugs
Partner: Lomov und Natal'ja
als Aktions- und Reaktionstrger
Intendierte Reaktion: Antwort
formeln und nicht-verbale rituelle
Reaktion (Kssen)
( V I I , zweite Hlfte)
Die Funktion wird erfllt
 329

Das Schema zeigt, da die Sprecher, die in den beiden Handlungs

phasen ( A , R) die Redeinitiative bernehmen, stets von der auf die
Handlungsaufgabe gerichteten Redeorientierung ausgehen, dann jedoch
diese Orientierung aus dem Auge verlieren und sich im weiteren Ge
sprchsverlauf auf handlungsferne Redeziele einlassen. In den Situa
tionsphasen hingegen ( S 1 , S 2 ) gelingt die handlungsorientierte Kom
munikation: In der Ausgangssituation kann Lomov als Initiativtrger
der Rede den Redepartner ubukov und sich selbst (im monologischen
Selbstgesprch) fr die jeweilige Handlungsrolle gewinnen, in der
Schlusituation lst ubukov in Ausbung seiner Helferrolle in den
beiden Handlungstrgern beinahe mechanisch die von ihrer jeweiligen
Handlungsrolle vorgesehenen verbalen und auerverbalen Reaktionen
aus (formelhafte Zustimmung zum Ehevollzug und symbolischer Vollzug
im Ku). Interessant ist die sprachliche Gestaltung der bergangs
phase zwischen Aktion und Reaktion ( V ) : Hier setzt ubukov auer
halb seiner Handlungsrolle als Helfer das handlungsferne Streitthema
f o r t und erwhnt unter anderem, immer in der Orientierung an dem
neuen Redeziel, das Redethema des Heiratsantrags, welches dadurch
einen neuen funktionalen Wert erhlt: Es wird zum Argument im
25
Streit . Die verbale Reaktion Natal'jas entspricht, entgegen der Rede-
26
absicht ubukovs, der Handlungsfunktion dieses Redethemas . Da
durch wird ubukov hier in bezug auf die Handlung zum Helfer wider
Willen und Wissen. Erst die Reaktion Natal'jas erinnert ihn wieder an
seine ursprngliche Handlungsrolle.
Wenn die Trger der Redeinitiative sich durch die Sprachreaktion ihres
Partners so schnell und grndlich von ihrem ursprnglichen Redeziel
abbringen lassen, da sie es sogar vergessen und sich auf ein Streit
thema einlassen, das ihrer Handlungsabsicht zuwiderluft, so mu
etwas an dem vom Partner aufgeworfenen Redethema sein, das eine
starke suggestive Macht ausbt. Diese Suggestion bewirkt, da die
ursprngliche Anpassung der dialogrelevanten Kurzzeitorientierung an
die handlungsrelevante Langzeitorientierung des Bewutseins aufgege
ben w i r d . Die Analyse der Wert- und Normstruktur der das Redever
halten steuernden Orientierungsgren soll uns aufdecken, was diese
suggestive Wirkung bei den Sprechern zu zeitigen vermag.
 330

Im ersten Fall wird das Stichwort "Ochsenwiese" (Volov'i Luki) und

im zweiten Fall der Hund Ugadaj zum auslsenden Moment der Umorien-
tierung im Sprechverhalten. Lomov geht davon aus, da die "Ochsen
wiesen" hm gehren, Natal'ja hlt sie f r einen Teil ihres Familien
besitzes. Erwhnt hat Lomov die "Ochsenwiesen", weil er Natal'ja einen
plausiblen Grund f r das Heiratsangebot liefern will (die Vereinbarung
der benachbarten Gter und die damit verbundene Abrundung und
Vergrerung des Familienbesitzes). Bevor Natal'ja den Argumenta
tionscharakter der Redeuerung Lomovs erfat hat, hakt sie an der
Besitzzuteilung der "Ochsenwiesen" ein. Im weiteren Streitverlauf re
klamiert jeder Sprechpartner die Wiesen f r sich. Dabei betonen beide,
da der Nutzwert der Wiesen geringfgig ist und da es ihnen nicht
um diesen geht, sondern um abstrakte Werte: Natal'ja hlt es f r " u n
gerecht", da ihr Besitztum von einem anderen reklamiert w i r d , Lomov
geht es um ein " P r i n z i p " , wenn er auf den "Ochsenwiesen" besteht.
Die Irrelevanz des Nutzwerts der Wiesen wird von beiden dadurch
zum Ausdruck gebracht, da Lomov Natal'ja die Wiesen schenken w i l l ,
whrend Natal'ja die Mher auf die Wiesen schicken w i l l , obwohl schon
jetzt ihr Heu verfault, weil es bei dem regnerischen Wetter nicht trock
nen kann. Die "Ochsenwiesen" sind somit f r beide Sprechpartner
Symbol eines abstrakten Besitzstandsdenken, abstrakt insofern, als es
nicht um den Objektwert selbst als vielmehr um das Recht geht, das
Objekt - und sei es auch von geringem Nutzen - als das eigene anzu
sehen. Das abstrakte Besitzstandsdenken verbindet sich mit einer
langen Denkgewohnheit: Natal'ja sieht die Wiesen schon seit "fast d r e i
hundert Jahren" im Familienbesitz, whrend Lomov langwierig die Be
sitzverhltnisse um die "Ochsenwiesen" durch vergangene Generationen
aufzhlt 2 7 .

Im Fall des Hundes Ugadaj geht es um das bergreifende Gesprchs

thema der Jagd, womit Natal'ja Lomov auf seine Heiratsabsicht zurck
fhren will. Bevor Lomov aber ihre Redeintention begreift, unterbricht
Natal'ja selbst ihn bei dem Stichwort des Preises f r den Jagdhund
Lomovs. Im nachfolgenden Streitgesprch handelt es sich darum, wes
sen Hund die besseren Jagdeigenschaften hat, Ugadaj oder Otkataj
 331

(Hund der ubukovs) und wie diese zum Kaufpreis stehen. Als u b u -
kov sich zu dem Gesprch gesellt ( V I I ) , geht es nicht mehr um das
bessere Geschft, das jede Partei beim Hundekauf gemacht haben w i l l ,
sondern um den Renommierwert des Hundes. hnlich wie im Fall der
"Ochsenwiesen" wird der Gebrauchswert der Hunde f r die Jagd von
den Besitzern als gering eingestuft (Ugadaj ist alt und hat eine zu
kurze Schnauze, Otkataj hat einen zu kurzen Fang und verhlt sich
bei der Jagd untauglich), es geht hauptschlich um den 'Ruhm' des
eigenen Hundes. Damit stehen die beiden Streitobjekte f r denselben
Wertnenner im Bewutsein der Streitenden: die Ehre der Familie. Das
Besitztum von Nutzgtern (Wiesen) vergrert die Familienehre durch
die Macht und Verfgungsgewalt, das Besitztum von Jagdhunden ver
grert sie durch das soziale Ansehen, das diese Hunde verschaffen,
wobei vor allem der Stammbaum, weniger die objektiven Eigenschaften
der Hunde zhlen. Das Denken in Termini der Familienehre geht einher
mit dem Konkurrenzbewutsein zwischen den Familien. Dies wird be
sonders deutlich in der Auseinandersetzung um die beiden Hunde,
anllich derer beide Parteien in eine gegenseitige Beschimpfung der
jeweiligen Familienmitglieder vorausgegangener Generationen ausbre
chen. Die beiden Streitobjekte (Wiesen und Hunde) appellieren somit
an ein und dieselbe bewutseinsimmanente Wertvorstellung (Familien
ehre) und lsen jeweils eine identische normative Verhaltensweise in
den Gesprchspartnern aus: Die Familienehre mu gegenber einem
Vertreter einer anderen Familie verteidigt werden. Die Wertvorstellung
verbindet sich mit dem Faktor der sehr langen Zeit, der durch die
vielen Generationen in der Familie dargestellt w i r d . Dieser Zeitfaktor
treibt die Verhaltensnorm der Ehrverteidigung mit einem gewissen
unreflektierten Automatismus hervor, sobald ein Familienmitglied in
eine Situation gebracht w i r d , die an die beinahe 'eingeborene' Wert
vorstellung appelliert.

Da die handlungsleitende Wertvorstellung von Ehe und Familienbesitz

und die dialoglenkende Wertvorstellung der Familienehre miteinander
verbindbar sind, kann die Divergenz zwischen Handlungsverhalten
und Sprachverhalten der Personen nicht von der Wertebene her er-
 332

klrt werden. Offensichtlich kommt diese D i v e r g e n z e r s t a u f d e r Ebene

der verhaltenssteuernden Norminterpretation der Wertvorstellungen z u
stande. Hinsichtlich des Handlungsverhaltens interpretieren die Per
sonen den F a m i l i e n b e g r i f f als Normzwang des Inhalts: "Man mu hei
raten" ( w o b e i die Ehe den F o r t b e s t a n d d e r Familie s i c h e r t ) , hinsicht
lich des verbalen Verhaltens interpretieren sie d e n s e l b e n Familienbe
g r i f f j e d o c h als Normzwang des Inhalts: "Man mu den V e r t r e t e r der
fremden Familie b e r t r e f f e n " ( w o d u r c h die F a m i l i e n e h r e , die als me
barer, relationaler Wert erscheint, vergrert wird). Auch auf der
Ebene des S p r a c h h a n d e l n s zeigen die Personen somit dieselbe W e r t o r i e n
tierung, die hier aber eine konkurrierende, kampfartige Verhaltens
form zeitigt, w h r e n d sie auf d e r Ebene des n i c h t - v e r b a l e n Handelns
28
eine k o n v e r g i e r e n d e V e r h a l t e n s f o r m hervorbringt

Die l e t z t e n d l i c h e Ursache f r die d i v e r g i e r e n d e n Norminterpretationen

auf den beiden Ebenen kann man im Faktor der Gewhnung sehen.
Die H a n d l u n g s e b e n e v e r l a n g t v o n den Personen eine Norminterpretation
ihrer bewutseinsimmanenten Wertvorstellung von 'Familie', die zu
e i n e r e i n m a l i g e n , im b i s h e r i g e n Leben d e r Person noch n i c h t a u f g e t r e
tenen Handlung (Heiraten) fhren soll. Damit dieses Handeln z u s t a n
dekommen kann, mssen sich die Personen v o n d e r g e w o h n t e n Kon
kurrenzhaltung gegenber einem V e r t r e t e r d e r f r e m d e n Familie l s e n .
Diese Loslsung mssen sie w h r e n d eines l n g e r e n Z e i t r a u m s , nmlich
d e s j e n i g e n , den die A k t i v i t t e n d e r i n n e r e n u n d u e r e n S i t u a t i o n s z u
bereitung sowie d i e D u r c h f h r u n g der Aktions- und Reaktionsphasen
verlangen, einhalten. Eine solche l a n g f r i s t i g e Neuorientierung gelingt
den Personen nicht, obwohl sie dazu willens sind. Sie b r i n g e n die
Daueranstrengung der handlungsfrdernden Bewutseinshaltung nicht
auf, s o n d e r n erlahmen nach dem e r s t e n ' H i n d e r n i s ' , das sich i h n e n in
29
d e n Weg s t e l l t . Das ' H i n d e r n i s ' i s t n i c h t d e r W i d e r s t a n d des H a n d
lungspartners gegen die Handlung, sondern dessen bewuter oder
unbewuter A p p e l l an die g e w o h n h e i t s m i g e Konkurrenzhaltung. Die
A u f n a h m e des g e w o h n h e i t s m i g e n K o n k u r r e n z v e r h a l t e n s g e s c h i e h t a u f
der D i a l o g e b e n e , die ja im Gegensatz z u r H a n d l u n g s e b e n e keine s e l b e r
reflektierende ( d i e U r s a c h e n u n d Ziele des S p r a c h h a n d e l n s bedenken-
 333

de) A k t i v i t t vorsieht, s o n d e r n eine solche A k t i v i t t , die sich i n s t r u

mental d e r H a n d l u n g s r e f l e k t i o n a n p a t . A u s d e r O r i e n t i e r u n g a u f eine
ungewohnte Handlungssituation lst sich das dialogische Verhalten,
sobald die Rede des Partners ein R e i z w o r t e n t h l t , das das g e w o h n
heitsmige S p r a c h v e r h a l t e n des S t r e i t s um die Familienehre abberuft.
Auf der Dialogebene s t e l l t s i c h somit ein Reiz-Reaktions-Mechanismus
ein, der dem langgewohnten Sprachverhaltensmuster des verbalen
Streits folgt. Dieser unbewute, unreflektierte Mechanismus im Be
r e i c h des k u r z f r i s t i g o r i e n t i e r t e n V e r h a l t e n s v e r d r n g t das reflektier
te, einmalige Handlungsverhalten der Personen, das auf langfristige
Vernderung der Lebensgewohnheit eingestellt ist. Daher 'vergessen'
die Personen, was sie in d e r Langzeitorientierung ihres Bewutseins
t u n w o l l e n , u n d sagen e t w a s , was sie n i c h t sagen w o l l e n : I h r S p r a c h
verhalten wird mechanisch, unbewut und unkontrolliert, die Wort
kampfhandlung ist keine Handlung im eigentlichen Sinndes Worts,
30
s o n d e r n eine beinahe a u t o m a t i s c h e V e r r i c h t u n g d e r Personen

b ) Die Komposition des d r a m a t i s c h e n Dialogs

Nachdem die U n t e r s u c h u n g d e r D i a l o g s t r u k t u r g e z e i g t h a t , w a r u m
die Koordinierung von Langzeit- und Kurzzeitorientierung und damit
die dauernde funktionale Anpassung des sprachlichen Verhaltens an
das H a n d l u n g s v e r h a l t e n der Personen n i c h t g e l i n g t , soll die U n t e r s u
chung der K o m p o s i t i o n s f o r m d i e s e r Werkebene o f f e n b a r e n , wie es g e
lingt, da die Dialogebene die H a n d l u n g s e b e n e im B e w u t s e i n des s
thetisch rezipierenden Z u s c h a u e r s in den H i n t e r g r u n d d r n g t . Es g e h t
h i e r d a r u m zu e r f a h r e n , auf welche Weise d e r Dialog seine s t h e t i s c h e
Dominantenrolle bernimmt, nachdem wir schon gesehen haben, auf
welche Weise e r sich d e r inhaltlich-funktionalen Dienstleistung gegen
ber der Handlung entledigt.

Da die nicht-konflikthaltige Handlung des Stcks die dramenbliche

Spannung und die damit verbundenen traditionellen Verfahren der
Spannungssteigerung im p y r a m i d a l e n Kompositionsbau nicht aufweist,
 334

nehmen wir an, da der Dialog, der ja Konflikt und Streit enthlt,
seinerseit Kompositionsverfahren ntzt, die das Spannungsmoment
steigern. Whrend die Handlung des Stcks spannungslose Symmetrie
aufwies, erwarten wir vom Dialog, da er spannungssteigernde Grada
tion zum grundlegenden kompositionsbildenden Verfahren macht.

Kampf und Konflikt im Dialog entstehen aus der Polarisierung der

Sprecher in bezug auf ihre jeweilige subjektive Beziehung zum Rede
gegenstand und in bezug auf die Absichten, mit denen sie ber diesen
Gegenstand zueinander sprechen. Damit es aber zur Kristallisierung
der Gegenpole kommen kann, mu zunchst eine uere Gesprchssi
tuation zwischen den Sprechern und eine gemeinsame Einstellung auf
dasselbe Objekt der Rede hergestellt werden. Die Leistung der ue
ren Situationsherstellung fr die Kommunikation will ich mit Roman
Jakobson die phatische Funktion nennen, die Leistung der Lenkung
der Aufmerksamkeit auf einen und denselben Gegenstand die referen
tielle Funktion, die Leistung des Ausdrucks der subjektiven Beziehung
des Sprechers zum Redegegenstand die emotive Funktion, die Leistung
der Beeinflussung der subjektiven Beziehung des Adressaten zum
Redegegenstand die konative Funktion und die Absicht des Sprechers,
mit der er zum Sprechpartner ber den Redegegenstand spricht, die
31
intentionale Einstellung . Die intentionale Einstellung des Sprechers
kann verschiedene Ziele haben, die den Typus des Dialogs bestimmen:
Der Sprecher kann hauptschlich am Sprechkontakt interessiert sein,
der zustandekommende Dialogtypus ist dann die Konversation; oder er
will ber den Gegenstand der Rede informieren, dann kommt ein
Sachgesprch zustande; er kann sein Wissen oder seine persnliche
Meinung ber den Gegenstand vermitteln wollen, was zum informati
ven oder argumentativen Gesprch f h r t , und schlielich kann er be
absichtigen, in dem Partner eine bestimmte aktive Reaktion gegenber
dem Gegenstand zu erzielen, dann kommt es zur handlungsvorberei-
32
tenden berredung . Ob der in der Sprecherintention angelegte T y
pus tatschlich verwirklicht w i r d , hngt jedoch nicht nur von dem
das Gesprch initiierenden Partner ab, sondern auch von dem reagie
renden Partner. Der reagierende Partner kann die vom initiierenden
 335

Partner vorgeschlagene Funktionsdominante akzeptieren oder verwei

gern oder seinerseits eine andere Funktionsdominante durchzusetzen
versuchen.

Die verschiedenen Intentionsrichtungen lassen auch verschiedene Mg

lichkeiten f r Konflikt und Streit im Dialog z u . Wenn der Reaktions
partner die Aufnahme des Redekontakts verweigert, kann die Konver
sation nicht in Gang kommen, und ein eigentlich inhaltlicher Konflikt
ist auf dieser Kommunikationsstufe noch gar nicht mglich. Wenn da
gegen ein anderer Dialogtypus verlangt wird als ihn der initiative
Sprecher vorschlgt, dann liegt zwischen den Sprechern ein Einstel
lungskonflikt vor, der die subjektive Beziehung zum Redegegenstand
wie auch zum Partner betreffen kann. Aus diesem Einstellungskonflikt
kann sich ein Streitgesprch entwickeln, das das Ziel verfolgt, fr
beide Sprecher eine identische Redeintention herzustellen, die dann
erst den Dialogtypus endgltig bestimmt. Und schlielich ist auch
mglich, da sich der Reaktionspartner auf die vorgeschlagene Sprech
intention einlt, da sich jedoch divergierende Meinungen ber den
Gegenstand, bzw. ber die Handlungsreaktion in bezug auf diesen
Gegenstand ergeben. Hier erst kommt es zu einem inhaltlichen Konflikt
der Dialogpartner, der entweder zum Meinungsstreit oder aber zum
Handlungsstreit fhren kann. Beide Streitarten, insbesondere aber
der Handlungsstreit (als Streit um die jeweils intendierte Handlungs
reaktion) knnen einen Umschlag der verbalen Auseinandersetzung in
eine nicht-verbale Kampfhandlung bewirken.

Die Verteilung der verschiedenen Sprachfunktionen und Redeinten

tionen sowie deren wechselhaftes Gelingen in der reaktiven Sprach
antwort des oder der Partner im Dialog stellt sich in "Predlozenie"
schematisch folgendermaen dar:
 336

Tabelle 6

Lomov - ubukov

a) gegenseitige Kontaktaufnahme: sprachliche Initiative: ubukov

Begrungsgesprch positive Reaktion: Lomov

b) Referenz auf Thema der Heirat sprachliche Initiative: ubukov

und berredung zur Hilfe:
handlungsvorbereitende
berredung
positive Reaktion: Lomov
positive Handlungsreaktion:
ubukov
(nach Beseitigung eines Mi
verstndnisses der referenzbe
zogenen Handlungsintention)

II

Lomov - Lomov

a) Referenz auf Thema der Heirat sprachliche Initiative: Lomov

und Selbstberredung zur Ak
positive Reaktion: Lomov
tion:
handlungsvorbereitende ber
redung

III

Lomov - Natal'ja

a) gegenseitige Kontaktaufnahme: sprachliche Initiative: Natal'ja

Begrungsgesprch/AIItags- positive Reaktion: Lomov
gesprch

b) Referenz auf Thema der Heirat sprachliche Initiative: Natal'ja

und berredung zur Handlungs
positive Reaktion: Lomov
reaktion:
Nichtverstehen der referenz
bezogenen Handlungsintention/
Wechsel der Referenz auf nicht sprachliche Initiative: Natal'ja
handlungsrelevantes Thema der
Wiesen:
positive Reaktion: Lomov
Meinungsstreit - Androhung (nach Nichtbemerken des Nicht-
eines Handlungsstreits (Aus verstehens)
schicken der Mher)
 337

IV

Lomov - Natal'ja - ubukov

a ) Erweiterung des Kommunika sprachliche Initiative: ubukov

tionskontakts
b ) F o r t f h r u n g des vorherigen sprachliche I n i t i a t i v e : Natal'ja
Themas der Wiesen:
Meinungsstreit zweier gegen positive Reaktion: ubukov
einen

c ) Erweiterung der Referenz auf sprachliche I n i t i a t i v e : ubukov

nicht handlungsrelevantes Thema A n s t e c k u n g : Natal'ja
der Familien:
Verbalhandlungsstreit ( B e l e i d i positive Reaktion: Lomov
gung)
d ) Androhung eines Handlungs sprachliche I n i t i a t i v e : Lomov
streits ( G e r i c h t s p r o z e ) :
Verbalhandlungsstreit: Dro positive Reaktion: u b u k o v ,
h u n g e n , Hausverbot Natal'ja

ubukov - Natal'ja

a ) emotionale Aussprache ber sprachliche I n i t i a t i v e : ubukov

das Sprachverhalten Lomovs
zum Thema Wiesen:
emotionaler Austausch positive Reaktion: Natal'ja

b ) Ausdehnung der emotionalen sprachliche Initiative: ubukov

Aussprache auf Handlungsthema
der Heirat:
F o r t f h r u n g des emotionalen negative Reaktion: Natal'ja
Austauschs
c ) Referenz auf Thema der Heirat sprachliche I n i t i a t i v e : Natal'ja
und A u f f o r d e r u n g zur Hilfe
(Wiederherbeiholung Lomovs):
handlungsvorbereitende uere positive Reaktion: ubukov
Situationsherstellung :
S t r e i t um Schuld am V e r
schwinden Lomovs
 338

VI

Natal'ja - Lomov

a) referenziell orientierte Um- sprachliche Initiative: Natal'ja

funktionalisierung des Themas
der Wiesen:
Beendigung des Meinungsstreits positive Reaktion: Lomov

b) Referenz auf Thema der Heirat sprachliche Initiative: Natal'ja

in Form einer Metapher (Jagd):
handlungsvorbereitende Ein negative Reaktion: Lomov ( v e r
stimmung steht die Metapher wrtlich)/An-
steckung Natal'jas

c) Vergessen des Handlungsthemas/

Wechsel auf Thema der Hunde:
Meinungsstreit/bergang in positive Reaktion: Lomov
Verbalhandlungsstreit (gegen
seitige Drohungen gegen die
Hunde)

d) Abbruch des Redekontakts: sprachliche Initiative: Lomov

Beendigung des Streitgesprchs negative Reaktion: Natal'ja

VII ( I . T e i l )

Lomov - Natal'ja - ubukov

a) Erweiterung des Kommunika sprachliche Inititative: ubukov

tionskontakts

b) Fortfhrung des Themas der sprachliche Initiative: Natal'ja

Hunde:
Meinungsstreit zweier gegen positive Reaktion: ubukov/
einen/Verbalhandlungsstreit Lomov
(Beleidigung, Morddrohung)

c) Abbruch des Redekontakts: sprachliche Initiative: ubukov

Beendigung des Streitgesprchs negative Reaktion: Lomov

d) Referenz auf Situationsvern

derung (Ausfall des Sprech
partners Lomov), Wiederauf
nahme der Referenz auf Thema sprachliche Initiative: Natal'ja
der Heirat:
handlungsorientierte uere
Situationsherstellung
positive Reaktion: ubukov
 339

VII (2.Teil)

Lomov - Natal'ja - Cubukov

a) Referenz auf Thema der Heirat: sprachliche Initiative: Cubukov

Verbalhandlung (Sprachritual
der Trauung)/auerverbale
Ritualhandlung (Ku)
positive Reaktion: Lomov,
Natal'ja
(Vergessen des Handlungsbe
bezugs des Rituals, Wiederer
innern bei Lomov)

b) Wiederaufnahme des Themas der sprachliche Initiative: Natal'ja

Hunde:
Streitgesprch positive Reaktion: Lomov

Das Schema der Verteilung der Sprachfunktionen ber die Szenen

hinweg folgt einerseits dem kompositorischen Grundri der Handlung,
der von der Symmetrie bestimmt wurde. So sehen wir eine funktionale
Entsprechung zwischen den Einleitungsszenen I, I I , die den Aktions
teil vorbereiten, und der bergangsszene V, die den Reaktionsteil
vorbereitet. In beiden Fllen gelingt die Kommunikation ber das hand
lungsrelevante Thema der Heirat, die Sprechpartner einigen sich ber
das Thema, und der zur Handlungsteilhabe aufgeforderte Partner lt
sich positiv auf die pragmatische Intention des auffordernden Teils
ein ( I : Cubukov verspricht Hilfe; I I : Lomov gelingt es, sich selbst
zur Aktionsentscheidung zu ermutigen; V: Cubukov h i l f t , indem er
Lomov zurckholt). Auch der weitere Szenenverlauf innerhalb der
beiden Symmetriehlften um Aktion und Reaktion betont das Symme
t r i e v e r f a h r e n : Die Szenen III und VI sowie IV und VII ( 1 . Teil) zei
gen dieselbe Situationskonstellation zwischen den Sprechern, und sie
weisen an derselben Stelle im Dialogablauf den Referenzwechsel auf
(IV; VI). In dieses von der Handlungsebene bernommene Symmetrie
schema d r i n g t jedoch ein Gradationsverfahren ein und berlagert die
symmetrische Ordnung. Dieses Gradationsverfahren betrifft den
Szenenverlauf 1 . innerhalb der beiden Symmetrieteile, und zugleich
stellt es 2. eine kontinuierliche Steigerungslinie her, die beide Sym
metrieteile bergreift.
 340

Ad 1 . Im ersten Teil bilden die beiden Eingangsszenen mit ihrer ge

lingenden Kommunikation ber das konfliktlose Handlungsthema der
Heirat einen ruhigen Eingangsteil. Eine mgliche auf den weiteren
Handlungsverlauf gerichtete Erwartungsspannung wird dadurch ge
dmpft, da ubukov das Einverstndnis Natal'jas in die Heirat schon
33
vorwegnimmt . Die dritte Szene setzt die konfliktlose Handlungsent
faltung zunchst f o r t , geht dann aber durch den Referenzwechsel und
die Aufnahme eines Meinungsstreits, der sich bis zum angedrohten
Handlungsstreit steigert, in eine Konflikt- und Kampfsituation ber.
In der vierten und letzten Szene dieses Teils wird der zunchst noch
verbale Meinungsstreit unter intensivierenden Gesprchsbedingungen
weitergefhrt (die Streitpole haben sich auf einer Seite verstrkt durch
das Hinzutreten ubukovs zu Natal'ja) und geht dann in nicht mehr
nur angedrohten Handlungsstreit (Prozedrohung), sondern sogar in
einen Verbalhandlungsstreit ber (Hausverbot fr Lomov). hnlich
verluft die innere Steigerungslinie im zweiten Teil: Nach der Wieder
aufnahme des Handlungsthemas in der fnften Szene setzt auch die
sechste Szene zunchst mit der konfliktlosen Handlungsentfaltung ein,
und durch den Referenzwechsel beginnt erneut das Streitgesprch,
das sich zur Androhung einer Verbalhandlung steigert. Das intensi
vierte Streitgesprch in der ersten Hlfte der siebenten Szene ( H i n
zutreten ubukovs) steigert die in VI geuerte Handlungsdrohung
(Todesfluch f r Otkataj, Gnadenschu f r Ugadaj) in eine Morddro
hung gegen Menschen (ubukov droht Lomov, ihn zu erschieen). In
beiden Teilen entwickelt sich somit aus einer ruhigen Anfangslage, die
handlungsorientiert ist, ein Streit und Kampf, der mit der Handlung
nichts zu tun hat, aber doch dramatische Spannung in das Stck
bringt. Der verbale Streit und die ihm inhrente Gradation ersetzt
den fehlenden Handlungsstreit und die fehlende Handlungsspannung.
Ad 2. Die bergreifende Steigerungslinie wird von dem Element des
psychophysischen Zustands getragen, worin sich die kommunizieren
den Personen befinden. Der psychophysische Zustand uert sich in
der emotiven Funktion, die, wenn sie dominierend w i r d , die Sprech
fhigkeit einer Person behindern kann. In "Predloenie" werden die
 341

beiden konstituierenden Elemente des psychophysischen Zustands zer

legt und mit unterschiedlichen Zeit- und Entwicklungsaspekten ver
sehen. Bei der Hauptperson Lomov t r i t t zunchst das psychische Mo
ment hervor, das sich als Emotion der Angst vor der Handlungsaufgabe
bestimmt und in der Kommunikation zu einem Hinderungsfaktor der
referenziellen Funktion w i r d : In I und III b r i n g t Lomov das Thema
der Heirat sprachlich so ungeschickt hervor, da der jeweilige
Sprechpartner ihn zunchst (Cubukov in I) oder auf Dauer (Natal'ja
34
in I I I ) nicht versteht . (Die Angst kann auch ein zustzlicher Grund
dafr sein, da Lomov sich so leicht von dem Heiratsthema abbringen
lt). Nachdem jedoch das handlungsbezogene Thema der Heirat auf
gegeben und der Dialog zum Streit ber handlungsferne Themen ge
worden ist, wird die Emotion der Angst verdrngt durch Krperreak
tionen: Lomovs Krperzustand verschlechtert sich kontinuierlich, so
da die Rede ber den eigenen Krper im Dialogverlauf immer mehr
alle anderen Redethemen verdrngt. Dies f h r t schlielich zu dem
Versuch, den Charakter des Gesprchs als Streitgesprch ganz ver
ndern zu wollen: Lomov bittet Natal'ja (in V I ) , den Streit aufzuge
ben, weil sein Herz zu stark klopft. Ihre negative Reaktion b r i n g t
ihn dazu, um einen Abbruch des Gesprchs zu flehen, so da hier
die emotive Funktion in einen Streit um die phatische Funktion um-
35
schlgt . In diesem Streit bleibt Natal'ja Siegerin, die Szene endet
mit ihrem Ausruf: "Ich schweige n i c h t ! " ("Ne zamolcu!"). Die Ver
lagerung der emotiven auf die phatische Funktion d r c k t aus, da
Lomov sich der drohenden Gefahr bewut ist, die von dem Streitge
sprch f r seinen Krperzustand ausgeht. In der letzten Szene ver
liert er dieses Bewutsein ( V I I , erste Hlfte). Hier ist es ubukov,
der, physisch geschwcht von den Streitgesprchen, um Abbruch des
Gesprchs b i t t e t , weil er sonst nicht mehr f r sein Verhalten garan-
tieren kann . Lomov verweigert nun den Gesprchsabbruch, obwohl
sein eigener Krperzustand sich noch weiter verschlechtert hat oder
gerade deswegen: Er wei nicht mehr, da der Streit ihn gefhrdet,
und setzt ihn bis zu seinem physischen Zusammenbruch (Scheintod)
fort.
 342

Unter dem Aspekt der Entwicklung des physischen Zustands kann man
Lomovs A u s t r i t t aus der Kommunikationssituation mit Natal'ja und u-
bukov (in IV) als Versuch der Selbstrettung interpretieren; in VI ist
ubukov durch den wiederaufgenommenen Streit mit Natal'ja schon so
geschwcht, da seine Krfte nur noch zur Verbalreaktion (Bitte um
Wechsel des Gesprchstyps und um Abbruch der kommunikativen Be
ziehung) reicht. In VII schlielich schlgt der Rettungsversuch in
Selbstzerstrung um: Entgegen der von auen (von ubukov in Form
von dessen Bitte um Beendigung des Streits) kommenden Hilfe setzt
er den Streit f o r t , bis er ohnmchtig w i r d . Diese kontinuierliche Stei
gerungslinie im physischen Zustand Lomovs mag ihre zerstrerische
Kulmination daraus begrnden, da Lomov psychisch geschwcht durch
die handlungsbezogene Angstemotion in die Kommunikationssituation
eintritt.

Umgekehrt begrndet die positive Emotion der Freude, die ubukov

angesichts der bevorstehenden Heiratshandlung empfindet, da die
physische Reaktion auf den Wortstreit ihn erst spter, in der Reak
tionsphase, erreicht. Die Tatsache, da aber zwei der insgesamt drei
Kommunikationspartner in der Reaktionsphase versuchen, den Dialog
typus zu verndern, bzw. den Redekontakt abzubrechen, zeigt an,
da sich im zweiten Teil der symmetrischen Szenen komposition im
kommunikativen Verhltnis der Personen etwas qualitativ Neues ein
gestellt hat, das sich im ersten Teil nur leise (in der Thematisierung
der Krpermotive durch Lomov und im Kommunikationsabbruch) ange
deutet hat, nun aber dialogbestimmend w i r d . Diese Bestimmung geht
letztlich so weit, da der physisch bedingte Bewutseinsausfall der
Hauptperson (Ohnmacht Lomovs) die Realisierung der Handlung in der
Schlusituation (S 2 ) ermglicht, nachdem und weil alle Kommunika
tionsfunktionen zwischen den Hauptakteuren - die sich ja stets als
handlungshindernd erwiesen hatten - ausgefallen sind.

Die Ebene des Dialogs in diesem Stck ist somit sowohl hinsichtlich
ihres materiellen (Wortstreit um Familienehre) wie kompositionellen
(Gradationsverfahren) Aspekts dramatisch angelegt, so da diese
Ebene tatschlich zur sthetischen Dominante werden kann. Als gat-
 343

tungsgeschichtlich neue sthetische Dominante t r i t t sie in eine unmit

telbare, auf Deformation und Umgestaltung zielende Korrelationsbezie
hung mit der Handlungsebene ein, die in gattungsgeschichtlicher Sicht
die ehemalige Trgerin der Dominanzfunktion war. Die Deformation
zeigt sich an der Handlungsebene inhaltlich im Verlust von Konflikt
und Kampf, was den Verlust des A t t r i b u t s 'dramatische Handlung'
nach sich zieht. Die Umgestaltung zeigt sich formal in der Symmetrie
der Handlungskomposition, was zum Verlust des A t t r i b u t s 'dramatische
Komposition' f h r t . 'Dramatischer Kampf' und 'dramatische Komposition'
gehen auf die Dialogebene ber, wo sie als verbaler Streit und
Streitgradation realisiert werden.

Die sthetische Dominante uert sich in der Regel nicht nur in einem
auf Deformation und Kontrast angelegten Korrelationsverhltnis zu
einer mit ihr konkurrierenden Ebene (hier: der Handlungsebene als
ehemaliger Dominante), sondern auch in der Fhigkeit, andere, auer
halb dieser Korrelationsspannung liegende Ebenen auf sich zu bezie
hen, nun aber nicht im Sinne der Deformation sondern der harmoni-
37
sierenden Abstimmung . Fr eine solche harmonisierende Abstimmung
bietet sich im Drama die auerverbale Ausdrucksebene an, die schon
bei der Untersuchung der Dialogkomposition im Element des physi
schen Zustands der Personen relevant wurde. Das Krpermoment ist
einerseits in den Dialog integriert (als Dialogthema und T r i e b k r a f t der
phatischen Funktion sowie als Mittrger des Gradationsverfahrens ne
ben der psychischen Komponente), andererseits bildet es zusammen
mit weiteren nicht-verbalen Ausdrucksmitteln eine autonome Werk
ebene, die sich jedoch, wie die folgende Analyse zeigen w i r d , nicht in
Konkurrenz zu Handlung oder Dialog entwickelt, sondern in stheti
scher Korrespondenz mit dem Dialog.

I I I . Die Ebene der nicht-verbalen Zeichen

Die Personen dieses Stcks sind nicht nur in eine Handlungs- und in
eine Sprechsituation hineingestellt, sondern sie befinden sich auch in
 344

einer Krpersituation. Diese Krpersituation ist auf je spezifische Wei

se mit den beiden anderen Situationen verbunden, gleichzeitig aber
von diesen durch eine eigene Entwicklungsdynamik unterschieden.
A u f g r u n d dieser Entwicklungsdynamik erhlt die Krpersituation den
Rang einer eigenwertigen Strukturebene, die sowohl hinsichtlich ihrer
materiellen Elemente wie auch ihrer kompositorischen Form untersucht
werden kann.

a) Die S t r u k t u r der Krpersituation in "Predlozenie"

Alle drei Personen des Stcks befinden sich in einer je spezifischen

krperlichen Verfassung, die, hnlich wie Handlungs- und Sprechsi
tuation, eigene Zeitperspektiven erffnet. Lomov als Hauptfigur des
Stcks befindet sich im Vergleich zu den beiden anderen in einer be
sonders interessanten, komplizierten Krpersituation: Wie die Regie
anweisung im
Personenverzeichnis ausweist ("gesund, wohlgenhrt,
38
aber sehr hypochondrisch" ), besteht eine Diskrepanz zwischen der
objektiven und subjektiven Krpersituation, Lomov f h l t sich krank,
obwohl er gesund und rund ist. Die Hypochondrie als Ausdruck einer
bersteigerten Liebe zum eigenen Krper wird zum Hauptzug des
Charakters dieser Person und damit zum Hauptmovens f r deren
Handlungsverhalten: Lomov bernimmt im Hier und Jetzt der drama
tischen Ausgangssituation die Rolle des handlungsinitiativen Teils (als
Antragssteller), weil der Ablauf der Lebenszeit und die Sorge um das
eigene Krperwohl ihn dazu drngen. Ohne diesen uerlich-innerli
chen Druck wrde er den Normenzwang zur Heirat, der ja schon sein
ganzes Erwachsenenleben auf ihm liegt, wohl noch weiter passiv er
tragen. Gleichzeitig ersetzt die hypochondrische Eigenliebe die f e h
lende Liebe zum vorgesehenen Ehepartner. Vom Standpunkt der Kr
perzeit bedeutet daher der Entschlu zur Heirat den Entschlu zu
einer grundlegenden Situationsvernderung: Lomov, der wohl sein
ganzes Leben lang ein Hypochonder war, will sein vermeintliches Kr
perleiden heilen, indem er seine Lebensgewohnheiten verndert. Das
 345

Resultat der Handlung bedeutet von hier aus eine Umkehrung: Lomov,
der in seinem bisherigen Leben keinen Grund f r objektives Krper
unbehagen gehabt hat, was er aber - aufgrund der Hypochondrie -
nicht gewut hat, schafft sich durch die Heirat einen solchen G r u n d ,
was er aber nicht begreift. Handlungszeit und Krperzeit sind damit
aufeinander bezogen; die von den Aktions- und Reaktionsphasen ge
tragene dynamische Handlungszeit geht hervor aus einer krperorien
tierten Lebenszeit und schlgt ihrerseits wieder um in diese Lebens
zeit: Das Resultat der Handlung ist f r Lomovs gesamtes weiteres
Leben bestimmend.

Natal'jas Krpersituation ist uerlich derjenigen Lomovs hnlich, sie

erscheint als gesund und v i t a l , doch besteht kein Miverhltnis zwi
schen ihrem Krperzustand und dem Krperempfinden. Die uere
Lebenszeit bt auf sie einen Druck aus, der zum Handlungsentschlu
fhrt, als sich ihr durch die Initiative Lomovs die Gelegenheit dazu
bietet. Die innerliche Motivation ist hier jedoch nicht Verbesserung
des vermeintlich schlechten Krperzustands, sondern Vermeiden einer
drohenden Verschlechterung (Hysterie bei ausbleibender Heirat), so
da Krperzeit und Handlungszeit auf andere Weise als bei Lomov i n -
einanderspielen: Der Durchgang durch die Handlungsphasen bringt
Natal'ja in die - relativ zu Lomov - gnstigere Lage, eine drohende
Verschlechterung auf Dauer des ganzen weiteren Lebens vermieden zu
haben.

ubukovs Krperlage ist durch das Zusammenleben mit Natal'ja ge

kennzeichnet. Seine charakterologische Neigung zum "Jhzorn" kann
eine durch dieses Zusammenleben erworbene Eigenschaft sein. Anders
als Lomov ist er sich seines Hauptcharakterzuges bewut, was even
tuell darauf hindeutet, da er sich auch ihrer Ursachen bewut ist.
Die Handlungsrealisierung bedeutet dann f r ihn eine Rettung aus
einer lange bestehenden tatschlichen Leidenssituation. Die Tatsache,
da ubukov helfend eingreift, um die gescheiterten Realisationsver
suche der Handlung doch noch zu Ende zu f h r e n , kann man von
daher als A k t der Selbsterhaltung auf Kosten Lomovs interpretieren:
ubukov ergreift die Gelegenheit der Ohnmacht Lomovs und der mo-
 346

mentanen S p r a c h l o s i g k e i t b e i d e r A k t e u r e nach dem E r w a c h e n , um d i e

H e i r a t zu v o l l z i e h e n u n d sich v o n Natal'ja zu b e f r e i e n . Whrend Lomov
d u r c h die H a n d l u n g seine L e b e n s - u n d K r p e r s i t u a t i o n verschlechtert,
Natal'ja eine d r o h e n d e V e r s c h l e c h t e r u n g v e r m e i d e t , ist u b u k o v somit
d e r e i n z i g e , d e r sich t a t s c h l i c h v e r b e s s e r t . Die r e l a t i v e u n d t a t s c h
liche V e r b e s s e r u n g d e r b e i d e n H a n d l u n g s p a r t n e r a u f Kosten des V e r
lierers Lomovs ist gerade deswegen mglich, weil Lomov zu seinem
eigenen Krper in einem f a l s c h e n Verhltnis steht: Er macht in der
1
Abschtzung s e i n e r L e b e n s s i t u a t i o n einen 'Fehler u n d e n t s c h l i e t sich
zu e i n e r 'falschen' H a n d l u n g , w o f r e r am Ende ' b e s t r a f t ' w i r d , wh-
40
r e n d die b e i d e n a n d e r e n v o n seinem ' F e h l e r ' p r o f i t i e r e n

So wie die K r p e r s i t u a t i o n d e r Personen zu einem h a n d l u n g s m o t i v i e r e n -

den physiologischen und psychologischen Charakteristikum w i r d , wird
sie auch zum C h a r a k t e r i s t i k u m f r das S p r a c h v e r h a l t e n d e r P e r s o n e n .
Jede Person g e h t in die S p r e c h s i t u a t i o n ein mit e i n e r sprachphysiolo
g i s c h e n B e s o n d e r h e i t , aus d e r s i c h der Verlauf ihres sprachlich-inter
aktiven Verhaltens ablesen lt. Diese s p r a c h p h y s i o l o g i s c h e Determi
nierung geht wiederum aus der gesamten Krpersituation der Person
hervor

Lomov z e i c h n e t s i c h in d i e s e r Hinsicht d u r c h drei Eigenschaften aus:

1. Er ist, obwohl in der Handlungssituation der Initiativtrger (als
A g e n s d e r A k t i o n ) , in d e r S p r e c h s i t u a t i o n eher r e a k t i v . Die m a n g e l n
de Sprachinitiative ergibt sich aus der Tabelle 6, wo eine Sprach
initiative ( m i t Ausnahme des S e l b s t g e s p r c h s in I I ) Lomovs n u r z w e i
mal ausgewiesen w i r d (IV und V I ) , beide Male mit dem Z i e l , aus d e r
sprachlichen Situation herauszutreten (Androhung eines Gerichtspro
zesses; Abbruch des Streitgesprchs). 2. Lomov hat keine Bewut
seinskontrolle ber sein Sprechverhalten. So b e m e r k t e r ( s . Tabelle
5 ) n i c h t , da Natal'ja dem Dialog ein neues F u n k t i o n s z i e l v e r l e i h t , das
dem seinen zum Hindernis wird, u n d p a t s i c h p a s s i v diesem neuen
Ziel a n . 3 . Lomov i s t v o n einem k o n s t a n t w i e d e r k e h r e n d e n Redethema
b e s e s s e n , das e r , g l e i c h , wie die H a n d l u n g s - und Gesprchssituation
beschaffen ist, stndig einbringt. Dieses Redethema ist der eigene
Krper, dessen Reaktionen als Symptome einer schweren Krankheit
 347

(Herzleiden) interpretiert werden. Die Konzentration auf den eigenen

Krper und der Zwang, diesen sprachlich thematisieren zu mssen,
verdrngt die funktionale Orientierung an der Entschlubildung zur
Handlung ( I I ) sogar im Dialog mit sich selbst, so da die hier ntige
Funktion der Selbstberzeugung schlielich der situationsvergessenen
42
Krperdeskription weicht . Und im Dialog mit anderen ist Lomov u n
fhig, abzuschtzen, ob und wie das Thema seiner Krankheit von den
Partnern rezipiert w i r d . Er reagiert weder auf das Schweigen der
43
Partner zu diesem Thema, noch auf ihren ironischen Spott . Im Ver
lauf der Dialogsituationen wchst das Krperthema stndig an, indem
Lomov immer mehr Symptome der Krankheit auflistet; schlielich v e r
leiht er mit diesem Thema dem sprachlichen Kampf einen neuen Cha
rakter: Er kmpft, indem er mit Natal'ja und ubukov streitet, nicht
nur um die Oberhand im Wortstreit mit den anderen, sondern er
kmpft auch mit sich selbst um die Konzentration auf das Streitthema,
das in seinem Bewutsein immer mehr von dem Krperthema verdrngt
44
wird . Da die Besessenheit vom Krperthema zu Monothematik und
Monolog f h r t , kann man in ihr die Ursache sowohl f r die sprachliche
Passivitt wie auch die fehlende sprachliche Selbstkontrolle Lomovs
sehen.

Natal'ja weist ebenfalls drei sprachliche Eigenschaften auf: 1 . Sie ist

fast immer initiativ in der Sprechsituation, unabhngig von der Hand
lungsorientierung und, wie die Wiederaufnahme des Streitgesprchs
um die Hunde ( s . Tabelle 6) zeigt, auch auerhalb jeder Handlungs
orientierung. Natal'ja b r i n g t damit im Vergleich zu Lomov die grere
sprachliche Energie auf. 2. Ebenso wie Lomov v e r f g t auch Natal'ja
nicht ber eine Bewutseinskontrolle des eigenen und des fremden
Sprachverhaltens. Daher bemerkt sie die negative Reaktion Lomovs
auf ihre Anspielung (Jagdthema) nicht und lt sich von ihrer Hand
lungsorientierung abbringen ( V I ) . 3. Natal'ja neigt dazu, ihren Re
departner zu unterbrechen, noch ehe sie das intentionale Ziel seiner
Rede erfat hat. Durch diese Hrerungeduld ( v g l . bes. III im Ge
sprch mit Lomov) offenbart sich wie schon im Moment der groen
 348

Sprachinitiative eine besondere sprachliche Vitalitt, die ihrem Kr

perzustand entspricht.

ubukov zeigt weder reaktives noch initiatives, sondern 1 . resigna-

tives Sprachverhalten. Dies t r i t t vor allem im Zwiegesprch mit Natal'ja
( V ) zutage, wo er zunchst Natal'ja die Schuld an der Vertreibung
Lomovs zuschiebt, dann aber, als sie ihn beschuldigt, vorsichtig
45
nachgibt . 2. Im Gegensatz zu den beiden anderen v e r f g t ubukov
ber eine gewisse Fhigkeit, die eigene Sprachreaktion und das
Sprachverhalten der Partner bewutseinsmig zu kontrollieren.
Gleich in der ersten Szene interpretiert er zunchst f r sich die Bitte
Lomovs um Hilfe als Bitte um Geld, doch hlt er sich mit der Inter
pretation zurck und kontrolliert durch Fragen, ob er Lomov richtig
verstanden hat. Die kontrollierende Rckfrage stellt er gleich darauf
noch einmal, weil er 'seinen Ohren nicht trauen' zu knnen meint, als
46
er Lomovs Antrag vernimmt . Das kontrollierende Bewutsein setzt
ihn auch instande, seine Helferrolle in einer Redepause zwischen Lo
mov und Natal'ja (in. V I I ) auszuben: Er ergreift rasch die Gelegen
heit der Pause, um die Trauung zu vollziehen, ehe die Fortsetzung
des Streits zwischen den beiden dies wieder verhindern kann.
3. hnlich wie Lomov ist Cubukov durch eine zum Defekt gesteigerte
Spracheigentmlichkeit ausgestattet: Er vollendet die Stze nicht. Das
Nicht-zu-Ende-Sprechen kann durch die Hrerungeduld Natal'jas be
dingt sein, mit der er schon lange zusammenlebt, ubukov hat sich
entsprechend seiner Neigung zur Resignation auf diese Ungeduld Na
tal'jas eingestellt und kann sich von der defekten Rede auch dann
nicht mehr befreien, wenn er mit einem geduldigeren Zuhrer (Lomov)
konfrontiert ist.

Betrachtet man nun Krpersituation und sprachphysiologische Charak

terisierung der Personen zusammen, so ergibt sich, da sowohl das
Handlungs- wie auch das Sprechschicksal eines jeden von ihnen vor
gezeichnet ist: Die Hypochondrie t r e i b t Lomov in die Rolle des Aktions
trgers auf der Handlungsebene, mangelnde Sprachinitiative und f e h
lendes Kontrollbewutsein in der Sprechsituation liefern ihn jedoch
der sprachlich dominanten, vitaleren Natal'ja aus, so da er sich im
 349

Streitgesprch mit ihr v e r l i e r t , statt seine Handlungsrolle durchzuhal

t e n . Die Besessenheit vom Krperthema hingegen f h r t ihn wider Willen
und Wissen einer solchen Entwicklung der Gesprchssituation zu (Ohn
macht), die den Helfer ubukov ttig werden lt, so da die inten
dierte Handlung doch noch realisiert werden kann. Bei Natal'ja bewirkt
die Unfhigkeit zum Zuhren, da sie ihre Handlungsrolle, zu deren
bernahme auch ihre Krpersituation sie motiviert (Vermeiden der
Hysterie), verfehlt, ihre Dominanz im Streitgesprch und ihre grere
Energie treiben jedoch Lomov in die Ohnmacht und infolge dessen sie
selbst in einen hysterischen Anfall, so da auch ihr Sprachverhalten
wider ihre Intention die Helferrolle ubukovs begnstigt. ubukov
schlielich als der tatschlich und langfristig in seiner Krpersituation
wie in seinen sprachlichen Fhigkeiten durch Natal'ja Geschdigte hat
zweifachen G r u n d , die Helferrolle auf der Handlungsebene zu akzep
tieren; sein greres Sprachbewutsein lt ihn die Entwicklung auf
der Ebene der sprachlichen Situation besser berschauen (vor allem,
als auch Natal'ja sprachunfhig wird), was die Koordinierung bei
der Ebenen ermglicht. Krpersituation und damit zusammenhngende
sprachphysiologische Charakterisierung erfllen somit in diesem Stck
die Funktion, die im traditionellen Drama der Charakter der Person er
f l l t : Sie bestimmen die Rollendisposition und das Rollenschicksal der
dramatischen Personen. Dadurch werden von der Ebene des Krpers
her dramatisch wirksame Differenzen und Konflikte eingefhrt, die
von der Ebene der Handlung, gerade weil die Personen eine "Kollek
tivperson" mit einem 'Kollektivcharakter' bilden, nicht vorhanden sein
knnen.

b) Die Komposition der nicht-verbalen Zeichen

Die Komposition dieser Ebene zeichnet sich durch zwei Verfahren aus,
die man als Verfahren der 1 . polyphonen Motiventwicklung und als
Verfahren des 2. optisch-akustischen Bildes bezeichnen knnte.

Ad 1. Das Element, woran das Verfahren der polyphonen Motivent

wicklung realisiert wird, ist der Krperzustand der Personen. Der
 350

Krper ist hier nicht nur als Bedeutungs- und Sinnelement wichtig
(in Dialog und Handlung), sondern auch als visuelles, bewegliches
Element der sinnlichen Wahrnehmung durch den Zuschauer. In dieser
Eigenschaft hebt ihn schon die Liste der handelnden Personen in be-
zug auf die Hauptperson Lomov hervor. Die Angabe "Ivan Vasil'evi
Lomov, Nachbar ubukovs, ein gesunder, wohlgenhrter, aber sehr
hypochondrischer Mensch" dient nicht nur der Charakterisierung,
sondern noch einem anderen Zweck: Sie lenkt die Aufmerksamkeit des
Zuschauers von vornherein auf Lomovs Krper. Gerade die Diskrepanz
von objektiver Gesundheit und subjektiver Krankheit kann von hier
aus als Verfahren der Kontrastbildung gewertet werden, das darauf
berechnet ist, den Krper, der sonst nicht beachtet wrde, auffllig
zu machen. Der Krper Lomovs ist dadurch als Motiv der sinnlichen
Zuschauerwahrnehmung eingefhrt, und Lomovs erstes Auftreten m
te vom Schauspieler so gespielt
werden, da das Krpermotiv von
47
Anfang an beim Publikum prsent ist . Betrachtet man nun Lomovs
Verhalten in den Szenen des Stcks, so zeigt sich, da das Krper
motiv kontinuierlich weitergefhrt und entwickelt wird: I - Lomov
erwhnt seine Erregung und unterstreicht sie durch das Trinken von
Wasser, was sowohl sprachlich wie auch optisch vorgefhrt w i r d . II
- Lomov zhlt seine Krankheitssymptome auf und t r i n k t Wasser, das
handlungsfunktionale Redethema des Heiratsentschlusses und seiner
Begrndung t r i t t deutlich hinter dem Krperthema zurck. III - Im
Dialog mit Natal'ja wird das Krperthema erst versteckt im part-
Sprechen (das f r den Zuschauer gleichwohl wahrnehmbar i s t ) , dann,
am Schlu der Szene, dialogisch verbalisiert und durch nun besonders
betontes Wassertrinken (Lomov "geht schnell" zur Karaffe und t r i n k t )
unterstrichen. IV - Lomov erlebt die Symptome, die er in II nur be
schrieben hat, aktuell an sich, was durch eine Geste ("er fat sich
ans Herz") unterstrichen w i r d . Er kann nicht mehr zur Karaffe gehen,
sondern r u f t nur noch nach Wasser und verliert im weiteren die rum
liche Orientierung und das Krpergleichgewicht, so da er "schwan
kend" abgeht. Das Thema des Krpers wird somit durch Sprache,
Dinge (Wasser), Geste und Bewegung (Gehen) variiert und dynamisch
 351

entfaltet, wobei sich eine deutliche Steigerungsbewegung zwischen I

und IV a b z e i c h n e t . In VI w i r d das K r p e r t h e m a z u e r s t im Moment d e r
B e w e g u n g w i e d e r a u f g e n o m m e n (Lomov kommt " e r s c h p f t " h e r e i n ) , dann
thematisiert und schlielich zu einem (Schein-)Ereignis gesteigert:
Lomov s p r i c h t d a v o n , da er eine " H e r z r u p t u r " hat. Gleichzeitig tritt
eine emotionale Reaktion e i n : Lomov " w e i n t " , wahrscheinlich ber die
Schmerzen der "Herzruptur". In VII w i r d z u n c h s t das Erleben der
Symptome wie in IV wiederholt u n d die K r p e r b e w e g u n g des Fallens
verbal vorweggenommen. Dann f l l t Lomov t a t s c h l i c h i n einen Sessel
u n d v e r l i e r t das B e w u t s e i n , so da das E r e i g n i s , das in V I bespro
chen w u r d e , j e t z t e i n t r i t t , obgleich in w e n i g e r e r n s t h a f t e r Form: Lo
mov erholt sich von der vermeintlichen "Herzruptur" schnell wieder
48
u n t e r dem E i n f l u des " W a s s e r s " , das ihm n u n g e r e i c h t wird

Im M o t i v des Krpers der Hauptperson w i r d somit eine sich a u s b r e i

tende und steigernde Bewegungskette entfaltet. Diese enthlt zwei
Steigerungshhepunkte (in IV u n d V I I ) , wobei d e r zweite den e r s t e n
H h e p u n k t aber noch b e r t r i f f t . Das S t e i g e r u n g s v e r f a h r e n , das c h a
rakteristisch fr die Dialogebene ist, wird also a u f d e r Ebene des
Krpers wiederholt und parallelisiert. Dies gilt auch fr die beiden
anderen Personen des Stcks: Cubukovs Erwhnung des Heiratsan
t r a g s lst bei Natal'ja ( i n V ) eine K r p e r b e w e g u n g (In-den-Sessel-Fal-
l e n ) a u s , d e r einem h y s t e r i s c h e n A n f a l l v o r a u s g e h t . Dasselbe w i e d e r
holt sich in V I I als Reaktion a u f Lomovs S c h e i n t o d . Zu den Krper
reaktionen gesellt sich von der lautlichen Seite her ein "Sthnen".
ubukov reagiert seinerseits a u f den e r s t e n hysterischen Anfall Na-
tal'jas mit Selbstmordabsichten, die g e s t i s c h d e m o n s t r i e r t werden (er
fat sich an den " K o p f " ) . In V I I w i r d ihm " s c h l e c h t " u n d er trinkt
"Wasser", so da auf der D i n g e b e n e eine Parallele zu Lomov herge
stellt w i r d . Nach Natal'jas zweitem H y s t e r i e a n f a l l u n d in Reaktion auf
Lomovs Scheintod verstrken sich u b u k o v s S e l b s t m o r d g e d a n k e n : Er
ruft laut nach "Messer" und "Pistole". Die kontinuierliche Steige
rungslinie, die das K r p e r m o t i v bei Lomov b e s c h r e i b t , w i r d somit bei
ubukov geschwcht wiederholt, was ja auch C u b u k o v s dialogischem
Verhalten entspricht. Bei Natal'ja dagegen zeigt sich keine Steige-
 352

r u n g , sondern eine einfache Wiederholung. Darin knnte das Symme

trieverfahren, das bei der Dialogkomposition ja auch eine Rolle spielt,
andeutungsweise abberufen werden. Die drei Krpermotive der Per
sonen f r sich genommen bilden somit eine A r t Echo auf die dialogi
schen Kompositionsformen, wobei Lomov als Hauptfigur die strkste
'Stimme' dieses Echos t r g t .

Sieht man nun die drei Krpermotive in ihrer Kombination, so wird

das Polyphonieverfahren deutlich: Lomov als Trger des krperlichen
'Hauptmotivs' f h r t von Anbeginn des Stcks ( l - I V ) ; die schwcheren
Motive ubukovs und Natal'jas setzen erst im zweiten Teil ( V ) ein,
wobei Natal'jas Ohnmachten eine A r t rhythmischen Schlag bilden, der
auf einfache Wiederholung angelegt ist, whrend ubukov eine schw
cher konturierte Gegenstimme zu Lomov darstellt. In dieser polypho
nen Motivfhrung liegt die gesuchte sthetische Abstimmung der u n -
49
tergeordneten Krperebene zu der dominierenden Dialogebene .

Ad 2. Das Verfahren des optisch-akustischen Bildes nutzt die Mg

lichkeit der Bhne aus, szenische Momente aus dem zeitlich-rhythmi
schen Flu der Textentwicklung (und der A u f f h r u n g ) herauszuheben
und zu statischen statuarischen Bildern erstarren zu lassen. In e-
chovs Stck sehe ich zwei solcher statischen Bildkonstruktionen: die
beiden letzten Replikenwechsel zwischen Lomov und Natal'ja in III und
die beiden letzten Replikenwechsel zwischen Lomov, Natal'ja und u-
bukov in V I I , die das ganze Stck beenden.

In III gibt Lomov das 'Bildthema' mit dem letzten Ausruf am Ende einer
lngeren Replik an, der durch eine Steigerung der Stimmstrke mar
kiert w i r d :

Lomov. ( . . . ) (Schreit). Die Ochsenwiesen sind meine!

Natal'ja Stepanovna. Unsere!
Lomov. Meine!
Natal'ja Stepanovna. Unsere!
Lomov. Meine!

In VII gibt Natal'ja, nachdem die Trauzeremonie beendet ist, das ' B i l d
thema' an:
 353

Natal'ja Stepanovna. Aber ... trotzdem, geben Sie wenigstens jetzt

z u : Ugadaj ist schlechter als Otkataj.
Lomov. Besser!
Natal'ja Stepanovna. Schlechter!
ubukov. Nun, es beginnt das Familienglck! Champagner!
Lomov. Besser!
Natal'ja Stepanovna. Schlechter! Schlechter! Schlechter!
ubukov. (versucht, sie zu berschreien). Champagner! Cham-
pagner!

Auf der akustischen Ebene kann man hier das Verfahren der ikoni
schen Relation zwischen Lautgestalt und Handlungsebene feststellen,
das von der optischen Ebene unterstrichen w i r d . Im Russischen bilden
die zweimal ausgetauschten Streitrepliken "moi", "nasi" ("meine", " u n
sere") im ersten Fall ( I I I ) lautqualitativ (in den Vokalen a, i; a, i)
eine Parallelfigur, in welche durch die lautquantitativen Verhltnisse
(Wechsel der Betonung: "moi", "ni") bei gleicher Silbenzahl (zwei)
eine Kontrastrelation eingefhrt w i r d . Im zweiten Fall sind die beiden
Streitwrter "lue", "chue" (besser", "schlechter") lautqualitativ
(in bezug auf die Vokale) und lautquantitativ identisch ("le",
"chze"), so da hier nach vorangegangenem Kontrast eine hnlich
keit hergestellt w i r d . Als ikonisches Zeichen i n t e r p r e t i e r t , sagt die
Lautfigur im ersten Fall die noch bestehende soziale Ferne zwischen
den beiden Streitenden aus, im zweiten Fall ihre Nhe (sie sind nun
durch die Trauzeremonie v e r e i n t ) . Die in beiden Positionen der Ferne
und Nhe gleichbleibende semantische Polarisierung sagt dabei aus,
da die beiden Sprechpartner, gleichgltig, wie sie sozial zueinander
stehen, den sprachlichen Streit, der einer langen Verhaltensgewohn
heit entspricht, fortsetzen werden. Dabei w i r d , was schon durch die
sprachphysiologische Charakterisierung beider Personen angekndigt
ist, Natal'ja die Oberhand behalten, da sie ber die grere Sprech
energie v e r f g t . Dies ist im quantitativen bergewicht ihrer letzten,
dreimaligen Wiederholung des Streitworts "chuze" ber das jeweils nur
einmal im Replikenwechsel auftretende "lucze" Lomovs auch ikonisch
noch einmal ausgedrckt.
 354

Auf der optischen Ebene wird der Kontrast im ersten Fall unterstrichen
durch die gegenstzliche Mundhaltung beider Sprecher: Lomov endet
seine Replik "moi" auf dem betonten i, das eine Breitenffnung des
Mundes vorsieht, Natal'ja hlt den Ton auf dem a ( " n i " ) , das eine
runde IVIundffnung verlangt, die durch das nachfolgende unbetonte i
zum Abschlu gebracht w i r d . Im zweiten Fall setzt die identische Vo
kalstruktur der Streitwrter "lue" und "chuze" auch eine identische
Mundhaltung beider Sprecher voraus. Da die Streitrepliken jedesmal
schreiend geuert werden und das Ende der Szene (bzw. des ganzen
Stcks im letzten Fall) markieren, ist der durch die Artikulation be
dingte optische Eindruck der Mundhaltung noch durch die gesamte
Krperhaltung unterstrichen, denn ein schreiender Mensch nimmt eine
andere Haltung ein als ein normal sprechender. Die Sprecher erstarren
somit in den beiden Fllen zu einmal kontrastiven, dann identischen
/
Schreipositionen, die aufgrund ihrer Statuari ber den Szenen- und
Stckschlu hinausdauernd vorgestellt werden mssen. Die konische
/
Zeichenstruktur dieser optisch-akustischen Eindrucksbilder wird dabei
durch die Replik ubukovs " N u n , es beginnt das Familienglck" iro
nisch kommentiert.
Das Verfahren der optisch-akustischen statuarischen Bilder, das ja
nicht nur die Lautebene der Rede sondern auch die gesamte Krper-
ebene erfat, kann man als Einbruch der Krpergroteske in das Stck
werten. In ihr werden die lebenden Personen der Handlung in posen-
haft erstarrte Puppen transformiert, ein Verfahren, das stark an den
Schlu von Gogol's "Revizor" erinnert, wo auch die dramatischen Per-
51
sonen in charakteristischen Redehaltungen versteinern . Neben dem
Kontrast des beweglichen, lebendigen und des s t a r r e n , toten Krper
zustands impliziert dieses Verfahren im gegebenen Fall auch noch den
Kontrast des klaren und des unklaren Bewutseinszustands. Dieser
Kontrast wird durch ubukovs Zwischenrufe "Champagner" in die
Bildkonstruktion introduziert. Von der Handlungs- und Sprechsitua-
tionsebene aus gesehen ist der Ausruf ubukovs funktional zu ver
stehen: Cubukov, der am Schlu selber ein 'klares' Bewutsein in
bezug auf Handlungs- und Sprechsituation hat, will den Zustand der
 355

Halbbewutheit der beiden H a n d l u n g s p a r t n e r , der durch ihr gestrtes

Sprechsituationsbewutsein und durch ihre krperlichen Dispositionen
bedingt ist, d u r c h das a l k o h o l i s c h e B e t u b u n g s m i t t e l verlngern und
steigern, um auf diese Weise die H e i r a t n i c h t noch d u r c h ein letztli
ches p l t z l i c h e s ' E r w a c h e n ' d e r H a n d e l n d e n zu g e f h r d e n . Gleichzeitig
52
ist der C h a m p a g n e r auch B e s t a n d t e i l des F e s t r i t u a l s d e r Trauung
Als solcher g e h t er zusammen mit den b e i d e n S t r e i t r e p l i k e n Natal'jas
und Lomovs in das finalebildende optisch-akustische Schlubild mit
ein, das e r z u g l e i c h in d e r d r e i m a l i g e n S c h l u w i e d e r h o l u n g endgltig
ausklingen lt. Als akustisches Schluelement des ganzen Stcks
k o r r e s p o n d i e r t es zwei o p t i s c h e n Elementen d e r B i l d k o n s t r u k t i o n : den
in identischer S c h r e i p o s i t i o n auf Dauer v e r e i n t e n Krpern der beiden
Haupthandlungstrger u n d den K l e i d u n g s s t c k e n , in denen diese Kr
per stecken. Diese K l e i d u n g s s t c k e w e r d e n in den Regieanweisungen
zum e r s t e n szenischen Auftritt Lomovs u n d in e i n e r Replik Natal'jas
erwhnt. Lomov "kommt herein in Frack und weien Handschuhen"
(I), Natal'ja erwhnt selber ihre Kleidung: "Entschuldigen Sie, ich
bin in S c h r z e u n d H a u s k l e i d . . . Wir p u h l e n g e r a d e Erbsen a u s . "
53
(III) . Da im ganzen S t c k n u r die K l e i d u n g d i e s e r beiden P e r s o n e n ,
nicht a b e r die u b u k o v s g e n a n n t w i r d , kommt diesen A t t r i b u t e n der
ueren Erscheinung beider eine besondere Bedeutung zu. Lomovs
Frack und Handschuhe stellen eine Beziehung zur Handlungsebene
her, da es sich um h a n d l u n g s f u n k t i o n a l e Kleidung (Festkleidung zum
feierlichen Akt des Heiratsantrags) handelt. Da seine beiden Situa
tionspartner sukzessiv (I, III) den funktionalen Sinn der Kleidung
mideuten (ubukov meint, es handele sich um einen "Neujahrsbe
such", Natal'ja m e i n t , Lomov f a h r e a u f einen " B a l l " ) , w i r d damit a u s
gesprochen, da Lomovs krperliches Verhalten sich der Bedeutung
der Handlungssituation noch nicht angepat hat, was die oben fest
gestellte Diskrepanz zwischen ungewohnter Langzeiteinstellung der
Handlungsebene und gewohnheitsmiger Kurzzeiteinstellung der
Sprechsituationsebene, zu der auch die Krpersprache gehrt, noch
einmal besttigt. Natal'jas Alltagskleidung hingegen steht in Wider
spruch zur H a n d l u n g s s i t u a t i o n (was d u r c h i h r e u e r u n g "Wir puhlen
 356

gerade Erbsen aus" betont w i r d ) , entspricht aber der dominierenden

Kurzzeiteinstellung ihres (und alier Situationspartner) Bewutseins auf
die Ebene der Sprechsituation und deren langverwurzelte Verhaltens-
gewohnheiten, die ja die beiden Handlungsanlufe ( I I I , IV und V I ,
VII) zunchst zum Scheitern bringt. Das Schlubild des Stcks,
worin die Kleidungsstcke als Bestandteil mitwirken, sagt dann aus,
da einerseits die "Schrze" als Symbol der Alltagsredeeinstellung
aller Personen ber den "Frack" und die "Handschuhe" als Symbolen
der einmaligen situationsverndernden Festhandlung die Oberhand
behlt. Andererseits aber wird durch den "Champagner", der die
handlungsfunktionale Bedeutung von "Frack" und "Handschuhen" zur
Erfllung b r i n g t (als A t t r i b u t der Feier), angedeutet, da, wie be
wutlos und automatisiert auch immer Handeln und Verhalten dieser
marionettenhaften Personen sein mag, die vorgegebenen kollektiven
Lebensaufgaben der sozialen Klasse des Brgertums, die in der Fort
setzung der Familientradition von Macht und Besitz liegen, wahrge
nommen werden, und sei dieses auch mit Hilfestellung der lteren
Generation (ubukovs), die ihre eigenen Lebensprinzipien in der
jngeren (Lomov und Natal'ja) fortgesetzt sehen w i l l . Das schlubil
dende optisch-akustische Bildverfahren offenbart sich somit als ein
'Superzeichen', worin alle Strukturebenen des dramatisch-theatrali
schen Zeichenbaus dieses Stcks kondensiert werden.

Resmee

Die Untersuchung der drei Strukturebenen der Handlung, des Dialogs

und der nicht-verbalen Zeichen in echovs Einakter "Predlozenie" hat
gezeigt, da die dramatische S t r u k t u r einer Vernderung im Sinne
einer Dominantenverschiebung unterliegt. Die Handlungsebene, die im
traditionellen Drama von der Dynamik des Kampfes und kompositorisch
von Gradationsverfahreh, die die Handlungsdynamik steigern, bestimmt
w i r d , weist in "Predlozenie" weder Konflikt noch Kampf auf, und ihre
Komposition beruht auf dem Symmetrieverfahren. Das Symmetriever-
 357

fahren wird inhaltlich an dem Bewutseinselement des 'Wissens', bzw.

'Nicht-Wissens' und 'Vergessens des Gewuten' realisiert, das t r a d i
tionell in der Komdienkomposition eine wichtige Rolle spielt, hier aber
durch die Variante des 'Vergessens des Gewuten' eigenartig aspek-
t i e r t w i r d . Die Ebene des Dialogs ist mit allen Merkmalen von Konflikt,
Kampf und sogar T o d , die sonst der Handlungsebene zukommen, aus
gestattet, so da hier kompositorisch auch das Verfahren der Grada
tion zur Anwendung kommen kann. Der Dialog bernimmt damit alle
inhaltlichen und formal-kompositorischen Charakteristika der traditio
nell fhrenden Handlungsebene im Drama und wird zur neuen Domi
nante. Dies wird dadurch ermglicht, da sich der Dialog von seiner
Dienstfunktion gegenber der Handlungsebene befreit und selbstwer-
tige Entfaltung erlangt; inhaltlich wird diese Befreiung von den Hand
lungsaufgaben dadurch begrndet, da die sprechenden Personen ihre
Handlungsabsichten, selbst wenn sie ihnen klar bewut sind, in der
dialogischen Auseinandersetzung 'vergessen'.

Der Dialog als die neue Dominante des dramatischen Baus wird sekun
diert durch eine d r i t t e Strukturebene des Dramas, die Ebene der
nicht-verbalen Zeichen, die im Krper der dramatischen Charaktere
und in Dingen zum Ausdruck kommt. Die Untersttzung der Dominan
ten ist inhaltlich begrndet, insofern Krperzustand und sprachphysio
logische Besonderheiten der Sprecher eine physiologische (statt er
traditionellen psychologischen) Motivierung des berwiegens des
dialogischen Kurzzeitbewutseins ber das handlungsrelevante Lang
zeitbewutsein liefern. Gleichzeitig handelt es sich auch um eine
sthetische Untersttzung, denn die auf der Ebene der nicht-verbalen
Zeichen zur Anwendung kommenden kompositorischen Verfahren der
polyphonen Krpermotiventwicklung und des optisch-akustischen sta
tuarischen Bildes parallelisieren die Kompositionsverfahren der Dialog-
ebene und bilden eine Zusammenfassung der Hauptmerkmale der i n
haltlichen Entwicklung der beiden anderen Strukturebenen und deren
gegenseitiger Beziehung in einem szenischen 'Superzeichen'.

Das Verfahren der physiologischen (statt der psychologischen in den

groen Dramen Cechovs) Motivierung und das Verfahren der statuari-
 358

schen Zeichenkonstruktion reihen diesen Einakter echovs in die T r a

dition der Bhnengroteske und der sozialpolitischen Satire ein. Beide
Verfahren begrnden die Attraktion dieses Einakters fr den Re
gisseur Mejerchol'd. Zusammen mit "Medved'" (Der Br) und "Jubilej"
(Das Jubilum) inszenierte er "Predlozenie" unter dem gemeinsamen
Titel "33 Obmoroka" (33 Ohnmachten), der den Ausfall des persn
lichkeitsbildenden moralischen Bewutseins des Brgertums program
matisch anzeigt. Die Zerstrung des moralisch verantwortlichen Indi
viduums und die Transformation des Menschen in ein allein am phy
sischen Wohl orientiertes Triebwesen - das Generalthema der komi
schen Einakter echovs - kommt in "Predloenie" gerade in der Mani
pulation des Bewutseinsmotivs des 'Wissens', in der Umwandlung der
handelnden Personen in eine "Kollektivperson" (in der Definition
Otakar Zichs) und in der Befreiung der sprachlichen Akte der Per
sonen von der Bindung an ihre eigene Handlungsintention zum Aus
druck. Der selbstwertig, ohne Handlungsbindung und Handlungssinn
sich entfaltende Dialog der dramatischen Charaktere zusammen mit
deren Verlust einer eigenen Identitt macht auch deutlich, warum
heute die Bhnenwerke echovs als Vorlufer des absurden Dramas
und Theaters erkannt werden knnen.

Summary

The analysis of three structural levels, the level of action, the level
of dialogue and the level of non-verbal signs in Chekhov's one-act-
play "Predlozenie" (The proposal of Marriage) demonstrated, that the
dramatical structure undergoes the process of shifting of the dominant.
In traditional drama the level of action is characterized by the d y
namics of the f i g h t ; its composition is marked by the artistic device
of gradation, that serves to increase the dynamics of the action. In
"Predlozenie", however, the action is without conflict nor f i g h t , and
its composition is marked by the device of symmetry. The device of
symmetry is embodied by the motive of 'knowing', varied by 'not
 359

knowing' and 'forgetting of the thing known'. This motive, traditional

ly important in the composition of the comedy, is especially underlined
by the original variant of 'forgetting of the thing known' in Chekhov's
play. Conflict, f i g h t , and even death, that are normally characteristics
of the action-level, are now attributes of the dramatic dialogue; there
f o r e , we also encounter the device of gradation on this level. By t h i s ,
the level of the dialogue overtakes all characteristics of the form and
contents of the action-level, which used to be the aesthetic dominant
in drama, and thereby dialogue becomes the new aesthetic dominant.
One condition for becoming the new dominant is the rebellion of the
dramatic dialogue against its service function with regard to the ac
tion. The dialogue in "Predlozenie" develops independently from the
dramatic action, it becomes autonomous. This autonomy is motivated
by the fact, that the dramatic characters in their speechacts 'forget'
the aims, which they are persuing on the action-level.

The level of non-verbal signs, the t h i r d level in the structure of

drama, supports the aesthetical effect of the new dominant. The non-
verbal signs are expressed by the body of the dramatic characters
and by things on the stage. This support is motivated physiologically
(by defects of the body and of the faculty of speech) instead of
psychologically. The psychological defects are responsible for the loss
of longterm-orientation of the dramatic characters, which is necessary
for action, and for their bondage to shortterm-orientation, which pre
vails in the speechact. At the same time, the support is of aesthetic
nature in so far as the compositional device of the polyphonic devel
opment of the body-motives and the device of acoustical-optical
statue-like pictures are connected in parallel with the composition of
the level of dialogue and form a culmination of all main characteristics
of both the other structural levels in a kind of theatrical 'supersign'.

By means of the physiological motivation (instead of the psychological

one, that is typical for Chekhov's big plays) and by the statue-like
sign-construction the one-act-play ranges in the tradition of the the
atre-grotesque and of social-political satire. Both devices make this
one-act-play attractive for the Russian stage-director Vs. Meyerkhold.
 360

He staged it together with "Medved 1 " (The Bear) and "Jubilej" (The
Jubilee) under the common titel "33 obmoroka" (33 Blackouts). This
title was meant to indicate the loss of moral thinking and thereby the
destruction of the personality such as it is typical for the bourgeois.
The destruction of the moral individual and its transformation into an
animal, that is exclusively interested in physical well-being, is the
common denominator of all of Chekhov's comical one-act-plays. In
"Predlozenie" it finds its expression in the specific manipulation of
the motive of 'knowing', in the transformation of all dramatic char
acters into one "collective person" (according to the definition, given
by Otakar Zich), and in the autonomy of the speechact. It is also
this independent dialogue, freed from the meaning of the action, as
well as the loss of identity of the dramatic characters that explain,
why today the plays of Chekhov are looked upon as predecessors of
the theatre of the absurd.

Anmerkungen

1 V g l . Baluchatyj, S.68-76; v g l . auch M.P. echov, S.17f.

2 S. dazu Meyerhold, 2 . B d . , S.301-312; s. auch N.K. Rudnickij,
S.480ff.
3 Honzl (1956), S.220.
4 Da auch in den groen Dramen neben der vorwiegenden psycho
logischen eine physiologische Motivierung mitluft, mte in einer
eigenen Studie nachgewiesen werden.
5 Stanislavskijs Spielweise sucht die berwindung des alten Schau
spielerproblems, das in der Frage besteht, ob der Schauspieler,
um die Emotionen und psychischen Regungen der darzustellenden
Person wiedergeben zu knnen, diese selber empfinden mu oder
nur uerlich reproduzieren soll, damit zu lsen, da er die
Schauspieler eine Technik der seelischen Umverkrperung erler
nen lt, welche vor allem die feinen, halb bewuten Expres
sionen des Innern im Schauspieler zutage frdern soll. Mejerchol'd
lehrt dagegen die Technik der absoluten Muskelbeherrschung des
Krpers durch den Willen, die Emotionen und innere Regungen
treffsicher aber vergrbert und bersteigert wiedergibt. Seine
Methode ist daher f r komisch-satirische Stcke besonders ge
eignet.
6 V g l . Zich, S.46-50.
 361

7 V g l . Z i c h , S. 169-184.
8 F r e y t a g , S . 9 3 - 1 0 1 ; v g l . auch Schmid ( 1 9 7 6 ) .
9 echov ( 1 9 6 1 ) , S . 6 5 ; v g l . auch A n i k s t , S.560.
10 V g l . dazu a u c h V o l ' k e n t e j n , d e r ein b e s o n d e r s e x p o n i e r t e r V e r
t r e t e r d i e s e r A n s i c h t i s t ; v g l . die a b w e i c h e n d e M e i n u n g bei Honzl
(1963).
11 V g l . d a z u auch Schmid ( 1 9 7 8 b ) , S.169.
12 V g l . dazu G r e i m a s , S.49-50.
13 u b u k o v s V e r m u t u n g " V e r l i e b t wie eine Katze w i r d sie sein u n d -
s o w e i t e r . . . " ( V l j u b l e n a n e b o s ' , k o s k a , i p r o c e e . . . ) h e b t auch
v o n d e r s t i l i s t i s c h e n Ebene h e r den b i o l o g i s c h e n A s p e k t im H a n d
lungsverhalten h e r v o r , der nicht nur f r Natal'ja, sondern f r
alle Personen des S t c k s g i l t .
14 Zich, S.174.
15 Die a l t e r n a t i v e - u n d damit ausweglose K o n s t r u k t i o n s w e i s e i s t auch
fr die g r o e n Dramen echovs c h a r a k t e r i s t i s c h . V g l . dazu
Schmid ( 1 9 7 6 ) , S . 1 9 2 , A n m . 4 8 .
16 V g l . dazu M u k a r o v s k y ( 1 9 7 1 ) , S.88.
17 D e t a i l l i e r t w i r d diese A u f f a s s u n g von Komposition dargelegt bei
Vygotskij und Petrovskij.
18 V g l . dazu Doleel.
19 Ein Beispiel aus d e r r u s s i s c h e n K o m d i e n t r a d i t i o n i s t die G e s t n d
nisszene z w i s c h e n Molcalin u n d Liza in " G o r e o t urna" v o n G r i -
b o e d o v , wo Molcalin d a s , was e r s a g t , n i c h t sagen w r d e , wenn
e r w t e , da er v o n zwei w e i t e r e n Personen b e l a u s c h t w i r d
( S o f ' j a u n d C a c k i j ) , v o n denen w i e d e r u m n u r e i n e r ( a c k i j ) w e i ,
da auch d e r a n d e r e ( S o f ' j a ) z u g e g e n i s t .
20 Das Wissensmotiv w i r d schon bei A r i s t o t e l e s b e t o n t u n d d o r t mit
d e r H a n d l u n g s p e r i p e t i e in V e r b i n d u n g g e b r a c h t , v g l . das Kapitel
"Peripetie und E r k e n n u n g " , S.41-43.
21 Der B e g r i f f d e r O r i e n t i e r u n g w i r d bei L e i s t , S . 6 9 - 7 1 , in b e z u g
auf Parsons d i s k u t i e r t . Mir g e h t es h i e r u n d im f o l g e n d e n d a r u m ,
da bei S p r e c h h a n d l u n g e n u n d n i c h t - s p r a c h l i c h e m Handeln v e r
schiedene O r i e n t i e r u n g s r i c h t u n g e n w i r k s a m w e r d e n k n n e n , die
aus aus dem W i d e r s p r u c h z w i s c h e n p e r s n l i c h e n B e d r f n i s s e n u n d
sozialen Rollen e n t s p r i n g e n . Z u r T e c h n i k d e r Rollendarstellung
generell v g l . Sladek.
22 Bei diesem Monolog h a n d e l t es sich um die v o n Ingarden (S.419)
beschriebene Funktion der Selbstbeeinflussung.
23 Die I r r e l e v a n z des Wissens u n d E r k e n n e n s w i r d auf e r s t e m Plan
a u c h in echovs g r o e n Dramen g e z e i g t , v g l . dazu Schmid (1976;
1978a).
 362

24 Zur Unterscheidung der beiden Zeitebenen s. auch Veltrusky,

S.80.
25 " u b u k o v . U n d dieses N a c h t g e s p e n s t , also w i r k l i c h , diese V o g e l
scheuche e r d r e i s t e t s i c h u n d macht a u c h noch einen H e i r a t s a n t r a g
u n d s o w e i t e r ! Ha! Einen H e i r a t s a n t r a g ! " ( u b u k o v . I ta k k i m o r a ,
e t a , v o t i m e n n o , k u r i n a j a slepota osmelivaetsja esce d e l a t ' p r e d -
loenie i p r o c e e . A? P r e d l o z e n i e ! ) Eine h n l i c h e U m f u n k t i o n a l i s i e -
rung zu einem - v e r m e i n t l i c h e n - I n s t r u m e n t des Wortstreits
nimmt Natal'ja mit dem F r a c k Lomovs v o r , d e r in Lomovs A b s i c h t
h a n d l u n g s f u n k t i o n a l i s t ( d e r F r a c k u n t e r s t r e i c h t die F e i e r l i c h k e i t
des Heiratsantrags), von Natal'ja aber miverstanden wird:
"Natal'ja S t e p a n o v n a . N e i n , u n s ! U n d w e n n Sie zwei T a g e b r a u
c h e n , um es mir zu b e w e i s e n , u n d w e n n Sie z e h n , f n f z e h n
F r c k e a n z i e h e n , sie g e h r e n u n s , u n s , u n s ! . . . " ( N a t a l ' j a S t e
panovna. Nasi! Chot'vy dva dnja dokazyvajte, chot' naden'te
p j a t n a d c a t ' f r a k o v , a oni n a s i , n a s i , n a s i ! . . . ) ( I I I ) .
26 "Natal'ja S t e p a n o v n a . Einen H e i r a t s a n t r a g ? Mir? Warum h a s t d u
m i r das n i c h t f r h e r gesagt? ( . . . ) Hol i h n z u r c k ! Hol i h n z u
r c k ! A c h ! Hol i h n z u r c k ! " (Natal'ja S t e p a n o v n a . Mne? P r e d
loenie? Otcego ze t y r a n ' s e mne togo ne skazal? ( . . . ) Vernut'
ego! V e r n u t ' ! A c h ! V e r n u t ' ! ) .
27 Die T a t s a c h e , da Lomov insgesamt v i e r m a l a n s e t z t , um die Be
s i t z v e r h l t n i s s e um die " O c h s e n w i e s e n " zu k l r e n (zweimal in III,
einmal in I V , einmal in V I ) , w e i s t d a r a u f h i n , wie s t a r k ihm das
B e s i t z s t a n d s d e n k e n , das auch w e i t e n t f e r n t e V e r w a n d t e d e r Fa
milie e i n b e z i e h t , z u r G e w o h n h e i t g e w o r d e n s t .
28 h n l i c h l i e g t d e r Fall in Gogol's " R e v i z o r " , wo a u f der H a n d
l u n g s e b e n e alle vom Revisor b e d r o h t e n Personen ein i d e n t i s c h e s
V e r h a l t e n z e i g e n , w h r e n d sie auf d e r Dialogebene v o r allem a u f
g r u n d des K o n k u r r e n z d e n k e n s in Z w i s t m i t e i n a n d e r l i e g e n . K n s t
l e r i s c h v e r d i c h t e t i s t dieses P e r s o n e n k o n z e p t in den b e i d e n F i g u
r e n B o b c i n s k i j - D o b i n s k i j , bei denen schon das L a u t b i l d des N a
mens d u r c h das R e i m v e r f a h r e n ( V a r i i e r e n des A n f a n g s k o n s o n a n t e n
bei s o n s t g l e i c h e r L a u t u n g ) a u f semantische h n l i c h k e i t ( h i e r :
R o l l e n i d e n t i t t ) h i n w e i s t , die n u r in s e k u n d r e n Werten d u r c h
brochen wird (hier: K o n k u r r e n z um die I n i t i a t i v e im Redebe
richt).
29 A u c h h i e r z e i g t sich eine Parallele zu den g r o e n Dramen e-
c h o v s , wo die L e b e n s e n e r g i e d e r d r a m a t i s c h e n ' H e l d e n ' nach k u r
zer B e g e i s t e r u n g p l t z l i c h v e r f l i e g t . In " I v a n o v " i s t diese E i g e n
schaft der echovschen Charaktere thematisiert. Rudnickij b r i n g t
diese E r s c h e i n u n g mit dem " N e u r a s t h e n i k e r t u m " d e r 80er J a h r e
des 19. J a h r h u n d e r t s in V e r b i n d u n g , b e r das echov sich in
den E i n a k t e r n , aber auch in den g r o e n Dramen l u s t i g m a c h t . S.
d a z u auch M e y e r h o l d ( S . 3 0 1 ) , d e r das Z e n t r a l t h e m a d e r O h n m a c h t
mit d e r sozialen E r s c h e i n u n g des N e u r a s t h e n i k e r t u m s v e r k n p f t .
30 D u r c h dieses r e f l e x h a f t e S p r a c h v e r h a l t e n nehmen die Personen
des S t c k s Zge v o n M a r i o n e t t e n a n , obwohl sie a u f d e r H a n d -
 363

lungsebene als intentional und reflektiert Agierende eingefhrt

werden.
31 Jakobson, S.125. Den Begriff der intentionalen Einstellung ent
nehme ich L e i s t .
32 Zum V e r s u c h der T y p o l o g i s i e r u n g des Dialogs nach d e r in den
V o r d e r g r u n d g e s t e l l t e n R e d e f u n k t i o n s . auch M u k a r o v s k y ( 1 9 4 1 ) .
33 " u b u k o v . A b e r w i r k l i c h , so ein s c h n e r Mann u n d . . . u n d da
sollte sie n i c h t e i n v e r s t a n d e n s e i n ! ( . . . ) " ( u b u k o v . T a k o j v o t
menno k r a s a v e c - i . . . i v d r u g ona ne s o g l a s i t s j a ! ( . . . ) ) ( I ) .
34 In I f o r m u l i e r t Lomov sein A n l i e g e n z u n c h s t allgemein als " B i t
t e " , die u b u k o v als B i t t e um Geld v e r s t e h t . In III e r w h n t
Lomov die B e g r n d u n g des H e i r a t s a n t r a g s v o r diesem s e l b s t , so
da Natal'ja s e i n e r D a r l e g u n g ein a n d e r e s Ziel u n t e r s c h i e b t : Sie
m e i n t , e r sei g e k o m m e n , um A n s p r u c h a u f die " O c h s e n w i e s e n " zu
erheben.
35 "Lomov. E n t s c h u l d i g e n S i e , ich k a n n diesen S t r e i t n i c h t l n g e r
f o r t s e t z e n . Ich habe H e r z k l o p f e n . ( . . . ) Gndige F r a u , ich b i t t e
S i e , schweigen Sie s t i l l . . . Mir s p r i n g t das H e r z . . . (Schreit).
Schweigen S i e !
Natal'ja S t e p a n o v n a . Ich schweige n i c h t , b e v o r Sie n i c h t z u g e b e n ,
da O t k a t a j h u n d e r t m a l besser i s t als I h r U g a d a j ! ( . . . )
Lomov ( w e i n t ) . Schweigen S i e ! Ich habe eine H e r z r u p t u r ! ! "
(Lomov. I z v i n i t e , ja ne mogu p r o d o l z a t ' togo s p o r a . U menja
s e r d c e b i j e n i e . ( . . . ) S u d a r y n j a , p r o s u v a s , z a m o l c i t e . . . U menja
lopaetsja s e r d c e . . . ( K r i c i t . ) Zamolcite!
Natal'ja S t e p a n o v n a . Ne z a m o l c u , poka v y ne s o z n a e t e s ' , cto
O t k a t a j vo sto raz lucse vasego U g a d a j a ! ( . . . )
Lomov ( p l a c e t ) . Zamolcite! U menja r a z r y v s e r d c a ! ! ) ( V I )
36 " u b u k o v . Das ist n i c h t w a h r ! . . . L i e b l i n g , ich b i n ein j h z o r
n i g e r Mensch u n d , w i r k l i c h , ich b i t t e S i e , b r e c h e n w i r diesen
Streit a b . "
( u b u k o v . N e p r a v d a - s ! . . . G o l u b u s k a , ja v s p y l ' c i v i , v o t i m e n n o ,
prosu v a s , prekratim tot s p o r . ) ( V I I )
37 S. d a z u M u k a r o v s k y ( 1 9 4 8 ) , S. 1 2 , wo er dieses K o n z e p t als K o r
respondenz der Gestaltmittel (korespondence t v r n y c h p r o s t r e d k u )
b e z e i c h n e t . V g l . d a z u auch M u k a r o v s k y ( 1 9 7 1 ) .
38 " z d o r o v y j , u p i t a n n y j , no o c e n ' m n i t e l ' n y j celovek".
39 Vgl. Anm.36.
40 A u s n t z u n g v o n Schwche a n s t e l l e v o r g e p l a n t e r A g g r e s s i o n i s t
auch die G r u n d l a g e d e r " S c h d i g u n g e n " , die die ' H e l d e n ' in den
g r o e n Dramen Cechovs d u r c h i h r e v e r m e i n t l i c h e n o d e r t a t s c h
l i c h e n ' F e i n d e ' e r l e i d e n ; v g l . dazu Schmid (1976; 1979).
41 Im Moment d e r s p r a c h p h y s i o l o g i s c h e n C h a r a k t e r i s i e r u n g b e s t e h t
eine B e z i e h u n g d e r Dramen echovs zum r e a l i s t i s c h e n D r a m a ; v g l .
dazu Honzl ( 1 9 5 6 ) .
 364

42 Bei d e r D e s k r i p t i o n s e i n e r S c h l a f p r o b l e m e v e r l i e r t sich Lomov

ganz in die v o r g e s t e l l t e n c h t l i c h e S i t u a t i o n u n d v e r g i t , wozu er
e i g e n t l i c h gekommen i s t .
43 Am A n f a n g v o n V I I r e a g i e r e n w e d e r Natal'ja noch u b u k o v auf
Lomovs K r p e r s i t u a t i o n , im w e i t e r e n V e r l a u f g r e i f e n beide s p t
t i s c h nachahmend seine Klagen a u f u n d wenden seine K r p e r
schwche als A r g u m e n t gegen i h n .
44 In d e r l e t z t e n R e p l i k Lomovs, d i e noch d e n S t r e i t mit d e n b e i d e n
S p r e c h p a r t n e r n f o r t s e t z e n w i l l , d r i n g t das K r p e r t h e m a schon i n
die S y n t a x ein u n d lst d a n n e n d g l t i g jede a n d e r e t h e m a t i s c h e
A u s r i c h t u n g a b : " L o m o v . Jeder w e i , da - o h , mein H e r z ! -
I h r e v e r s t o r b e n e F r a u Sie g e p r g e l t h a t . . . Mein Bein . . . die
S c h l f e n . . . S t e r n e . . . ich f a l l e , ich f a l l e ! . . " ( L o m o v . Vsem
i z v e s t n o , cto - o c h , s e r d c e ! - vasa pokojnaja zena vas b i l a . . .
N o g a . . . v i s k i . . . i s k r y . . . Padaju, p a d a j u ! . . ) ( V I I ) .
45 " u b u k o v . ( . . . ) u n d das w a r s t alles d u s c h u l d . . . d u !
Natal'ja S t e p a n o v n a . N e i n , d u !
u b u k o v . Also ich b i n s c h u l d , also w i r k l i c h ! ( . . . ) "
( " u b u k b v . ( . . . ) a v s e eto t y . . . t y !
Natal'ja S t e p a n o v n a . N e t , t y !
u b u k o v . Ja ze v i n o v a t , v o t i m e n n o ! ) ( V ) .
46 " u b u k o v ( f r e u d i g ) . L i e b l i n g ! I v a n V a s i l ' e v i c ! Wiederholen Sie es
noch einmal - ich habe es n i c h t genau g e h r t ! " ( u b u k o v ( r a -
d o s t n o ) . Mamusja! I v a n V a s i l ' e v i c ! p o v t o r i t e esce r a z , - ja ne
rasslysal!) ( I ) :
47 Diese K o n z e p t i o n der K r p e r b e s t i m m t h e i t des C h a r a k t e r s u n d d e r
Rolle e i g n e t s i c h auch g u t f r M e j e r c h o l ' d s Methode d e r " p r e d -
y g r a " ( V o r s p i e l ) , w o r i n d e r R e d e t e x t d e r Rolle in d e r v i s u e l l e n
Krper-, G e b r d e n - u n d mimischen S p r a c h e des S c h a u s p i e l e r s
kommentierend vorweggenommen wird. Vgl. dazu Meyerhold,
S . 8 7 - 8 9 . Bei d e r I n s z e n i e r u n g v o n "33 O b m o r o k a " w u r d e d u r c h
diese Methode das A u f f h r u n g s t e m p o e x t r e m v e r l a n g s a m t .
48 Die K r p e r e b e n e b i l d e t h i e r eine k o n t i n u i e r l i c h e " A k t i o n e n k e t t e " ,
d i e , wie M e j e r c h o l ' d ( S . 3 0 6 - 3 0 7 ) am Beispiel aus " J u b i l e j " d e m o n
s t r i e r t , zu noch s t r k e r e r B h n e n h y p e r b o l i k als i n den S t c k e n
Gogol's f h r t .
49 Die M u s i k a l i t t des S t c k s ( w i e auch der a n d e r e n b e i d e n E i n
akter) unterstrich Mejerchol'd durch charakterisierenden Ge
b r a u c h v o n I n s t r u m e n t e n u n d L e i t m o t i v e n , wobei d i e gesamte A u f
f h r u n g i n einen r h y t h m i s c h e n Rahmen g e b r a c h t w u r d e , d e r v o r
allem a u c h das " V o r s p i e l " d e r S c h a u s p i e l e r z e i t l i c h b e g r e n z e n
s o l l t e . Seit der A u f f h r u n g v o n " U c i t e l ' B u b u s " w a r das M u s i k a
lische zu einem k o n s t a n t e n F a k t o r d e r Regie M e j e r c h o l ' d s g e w o r
d e n . V g l . dazu auch M a i l a n d - H a n s e n s D a r s t e l l u n g d e r E n t w i c k l u n g
der Regiekunst Mejerchol'ds.
50 Ich weiche h i e r v o n dem T e x t Peter U r b a n s a b , um die E n d s t e l
l u n g d e r O p p o s i t i o n s w r t e r im R u s s i s c h e n w i e d e r z u g e b e n . ( L o m o v .
 365

(...) (Kriit.) Volov'i Luzki moi! Natal'ja Stepanovna. Nasi!

Lomov. Moi! Natal'ja Stepanovna. Nasi! Lomov. M o i ! ) ( I I I ) .
51 Auf die Beziehung zwischen Gogol's "Revizor" und echovs D r a
men weist auch Rudnickij h i n . V g l . auch A n m . 2 8 ; Anm. 30.
52 Cheromskij, S . 168-170, weist darauf h i n , da Vachtangov in der
gekoppelten Inszenierung von echovs Einakter "Svad'ba" ( D i e
Hochzeit) und Puskins "Per vo vremja umy" ( E i n Festmahl z u r
Zeit der Pest) die geistige Leere des Festrituals bei echov im
Gegensatz zur schpferischen, lebensgestaltenden Idee des Festes
bei Puskin herausgearbeitet hat. Das Fehlen der geistigen Dimen
sion im Leben seiner dramatischen C h a r a k t e r e zusammen mit ihrem
marionettenhaften Sprechverhalten (automatisierte Reaktion auf
Situationsreize) und i h r e r Reduktion auf krperliche Interessen
r c k t dieses und andere Stcke echovs in die Nhe des moder
nen absurden T h e a t e r s .
53 " ( v c h o d i t vo f r a k e i belych p e r a t k a c h ) . " ( I ) " I z v i n i t e , ja v
f a r t u k e i n e g l i e . . . My gorosek istim dlja s u s k i . " ( I l l )

Bibliographie

Benutzte Werkausgaben

echov, Smtliche Einakter, bers, und hrsg. von Peter Urban,

Diogenes, Zrich 1980.
A.P. echov, Sobranie soinenij v dvanadcati tomach, Moskva 1963,
Bd.10.

Anikst, A. 1972
Teorija russkoj dramy ot Puskina do echova, Moskva.
Aristoteles 1979
Poetik (Reclam. 8 2 ) .
Baluchatyj, S. 1936
echov d r a m a t u r g , Leningrad.
echov, M . P . 1924
Anton echov, P e t r o g r a d .
Cheromskij, C h . 1963
Vachtangov, Moskva.
Dolezel, L. 1972
" N a r r a t i v e Composition: A Link between German and Russian
Poetics", i n : Russian Formalism, e d . by S t . Bann and J . E .
Bowlt, E d i n b u r g h , S . 7 3 - 8 3 .
 366

Freytag, G. 1857
Die Technik des Dramas, Leipzig.
Greimas, A . J . 1972
"Elemente einer narrativen Grammatik", i n : H. Blumensath,
H r s g . , Strukturalismus in der Literaturwissenschaft, Kln, S.47-
67.
Honzl, J . 1956
"Slovo na jevisti a ve f i l m u " , in: ders., novmu vyznamu
urnen , Praha, S. 197-221.
Honzl, J . 1963
"Hra a jej promny", in: ders., Zklady a praxe modernho
divadia, Praha, S.43-71.
Ingarden, R. 31965
"Von den Funktionen der Sprache im Theaterschauspiel", in:
d e r s . : Das literarische Kunstwek, Tbingen, S,403-425.
Jakobson, R. 1972
"Linguistik und Poetik", i n : H. Blumensath, H r s g . , S t r u k t u r a
lismus in der Literaturwissenschaft, Kln, S.118-147.
Leist, A. 1972
"Zur Intentionalitt von Sprechhandlungen", i n : Linguistische
Pragmatik, Hrsg. D. Wunderlich, F r a n k f u r t , S.59-98.
Mailand-Hansen, Ch. 1980
Mejerchol'ds Theatersthetik in den 20er Jahren, Kopenhagen.
Meyerhold, Ws.E. 1979
Schriften. Aufstze-Briefe-Reden-Gesprche, 2 B d e . , Berlin.
Mukarovsky 1941
"Dialog a monolog", i n : d e r s . , Kapitoly z cesk poetiky, B d . 1 ,
Praha, S.145-175.
Mukarovsky 1948
"Predmluva", i n : d e r s . , Kapitoly z esk poetiky, B d . 3 , Praha,
S.9-11.
Mukarovsky 1971
"O soucasn poetice", in: ders., Cestami poetiky a estetiky,
Praha, S.99-115.
Petrovskij, M. 1925
"Morfologija puskinskogo Vystrela, in: sb. Problemy potiky,
Moskva/Leningrad, S.173-204.
Rudnickij, N.K. 1969
Rezisser Mejerchol'd. Moskva.
Schmid, H. 1976
"Ist die Handlung die Konstruktionsdominante des Dramas? e-
chovs 'Drei Schwestern' als Beginn einer Paradigmenerweiterung
der dramatischen Gattung", i n : Poetica, B d . 8 , S.177-207.
 367

Schmid, H. 1978a
"Der Aufbau der thematischen Bedeutung in Ostrovskijs 'Groza'
und in echovs 'Djadja V a n j a ' " , i n : A . G . F . van Holk, H r s g . ,
Zugnge zu Ostrovskij - Approaches to O s t r o v s k y , Bremen, S . 3 -
89.
Schmid, H. 1978b
"Die Bedeutung des dramatischen Raums in A . P . echovs
'Visnevyj sad' ( D e r K i r s c h g a r t e n ) und A . S t r i n d b e r g s 'Gespen-
stersonate' " , i n : Referate und Beitrge zum V I I I . internationa
len Slavistenkongre in Zagreb 1978, Mnchen, S . 1 4 9 - 1 9 8 .
Sladek, A . 1977
Aktionslogik und Erzhllogik, Tbingen.
Surkov, E.D. ( H r s g . ) 1961
echov i t e a t r , Moskva.
Veltrusky, J. 1977
Drama as L i t e r a t u r e , Lisse.
5
Vol'kenstejn, V . M . 1969
Dramaturgija, Moskva.
2
Vygotskij, L.S. 1968
Psichologija iskusstva, Moskva.
Z i c h , O. 1977
Esteti ka dramatickho urnen , j a l - r e p r i n t W r z b u r g .
 FRAMES AND METACOMMUNICATION
IN GENET'S THE BALCONY

Dina Sherzer

1.

Escher in his graphic work Reptiles, Hill in his film The Sting, Ma
g r i t t e in his painting Le Modele rouge, Robbe-Grillet in his novel La
Maison de rendez-vous, and Velasquez in his painting Las Meninas,
are each in their own way and with different media exploring possible
ways of representing reality and experience. In Reptiles two types of
representation are mingled which contrast volumes and flat surfaces.
Amid many objects small alligators are walking. One of the objects is
a drawing book opened on a page representing a mosaic of reptilian
figures contrasting three shades. In The Sting some of the characters
think that a horse race is actually taking place, while the confidence
men who devised the whole operation know that the race is fake. What
seems real for some characters is fake for others. In Le Modle rouge
Magritte represents two feet with veins, nails and toes, connected not
to an ankle but to the top part of a pair of shoes. Unexpectedly live
matter is represented as a continuation of dead matter or vice-versa.
In La Maison de rendez-vous a Eurasion girl wearing a t i g h t - f i t t i n g
Chinese dress is the subject of a series of representations actualized
in different media. She appears on a piece of newspaper, on a r i n g ,
on a mannequin, or as a stereotyped image about the Orient in the
mind of the narrator. In other words the same representation occurs
with different anchorings. Las Meninas is a painting which represents
 369

a room with paintings and mirrors on its walls. A painter is standing

in f r o n t of a painting he is working o n ; people in the painting seem
to be looking at us, the spectators, but they are actually looking at
the king and queen. We know all this because they are reflected in a
mirror opposite us, within the painting. In this work, paintings
within paintings, mirrors, and reflections are also combined to pre-
1
sent different anchorings of representation .

Jean Genet belongs to this tradition of painters, w r i t e r s , and film

directors. In his novels and in his plays, like Escher, Hill, Magritte,
Robbe-Grillet, and Velasquez, Genet also self-consciously plays the
game of mirrors and enjoys manipulating fantasy, illusion, and real
i t y . About The Balcony, probably his best known play, Genet wrote:
2
"This play is the Glorification of Image and Reflection" . In it char
acters are involved in many situations and behaviours, during which
sometimes they act, and sometimes they engage in real activity. This
paper examines how, in staging illusion and reality, Genet explores
the subtelty and complexity of experience. My analysis consists of a
study of the precise devices used by Genet in elaborating the struc
ture of The Balcony. In addition I propose a dialogue between Genet
and the works of such scholars as Bateson, Derrida, Foucault, Goff-
man, Laplanche, and Mauss which shows both the relevance of Genet's
sophisticated presentation of experience to issues in several disciplines
and the relevance of the works of these scholars themselves to the
study of The Balcony. It is thus the interplay of image and reflection
3
involving Genet and various scholars which is played out here .

2.
4
Under the title Frame Analysis Erving Goffman studies systematically
a set of communicative devices which are used to organize the re
presentation of experience in everyday interactions, verbal and non
verbal, as well as in theater. Inspired by an article by Gregory
Bateson which discusses how by behavioural or linguistic means, an
animal or a person indicates whether he is playing or being serious,
 370

Goffman developed the concept of frame. A frame is a particular

anchoring of a specific strip of experience. Thus there are literal
activities in everyday life and interactions, but there are also
experiences which occur in a particular frame, distinguishing them
from literal experiences. For instance, j o k i n g , imitating someone, and
performing a play are framed activities. An elaboration of the notion
of point of view which has been used by literary scholars, the notion
of frame permits us to study a wide range of phenomena and be
haviours, taking into account what is going on in a particular situa
tion, and also the perception of the individuals involved. Goffman
classifies frames into two types: keyings and fabrications. A keying
is a transformation of reality which creates a frame in which all
participants perceive and are aware of what is going on, that is of
the nature of the event. For instance in a play actors and spectators
know that what is on stage is acted and that the actors pretend to be
the characters for the duration of the play . A fabrication is a t r a n s
formation of reality in which all the participants do not have the same
perspective on the situation. More precisely one set of participants is
responsible for and thus aware of one more transformation than the
others, as in The Sting, in which the confidence men invent a scheme
in order to deceive their victims without the latter being aware of i t .

Metacommunication is also an important aspect of The Balcony. This

concept discussed by Bateson, is a device which informs the partici
pants in an interaction about the nature of what is going i n . Bateson
uses the exampke of someone saying: "I love y o u , I hate you" then
adding "this is p l a y . " With this last utterance the addressor tells the
addresses how to decode the contradictory statements just uttered.
Metacommunicative statements are reflexive comments which cue and
explain what is going on. In Goffman's terms, metacommunication is
one type of keying. In The Balcony metacommunicative comments are
often about the frames themselves, that is about the keyings and
fabrications which constitute the play.
 371

3.
3.1.

In order to appreciate the complexity of The Balcony it is necessary

to perform, a reading in terms of the types of experiences and be
haviours which are staged, paying attention to whether what is going
on is a literal activity, a keying, or a fabrication, and also paying
attention to the metacommunicative statements of the characters. And
because Genet is influenced by Artaud's theories on the theatre,
elaborate details of staging, decors, accessories, costumes, noises,
and shouts, as well as dialogues and actions, participate in the crea
tion of the experiences, with the consequence that every single com
ponent is meaningful and therefore needs to be taken into account.

The Balcony contains several domains of experience in which action is

actualized concretely in specific places and spaces. In a city a revolu
tion is underway, revolutionaries are in the streets, battle is raging,
and machine guns are shooting. As the play unfolds, the queen, the
bishop, the general, and the judge representing the ruling power are
killed. This particular domain of activity is a strip of literal activity
in the play, which I call A1 7. . In this city there is a brothel run by
Madame Irma. It is an organization which also belongs to the domain
of literal activities, but as will become apparent later it is a separate
entity in the play. Since it is a strip of activity within the city I call
it A 2 . In this l u x u r y brothel there are studios where customers come
to act out roles and scenarios they have prepared for themselves;
that is the studios are the loci of framed activities. While they are in
the studios, the customers are involved in experiences which are
keyings of roles which exist in the literal world. I call this domain B.
The three domains, A 1 , A2 and are not presented separately, suc
cessively, one after the other. Rather Genet mingles them in each
tableau, each time foregrounding one domain while at the same time
creating borderline situations which permit encroachments of the

others . These bordeline situations are quite varied. It can be the

beginning or the ending of the acting in a studio which brings two
 372

domains into contact. It can be a disruption provoked by some ele

ments such as a noise, a detail of clothing or a shout which causes
one domain to intrude into another. The intrusion can be a meta-
statement which provides information about or explains what happens
in another domain. There is also the situation in which a temporary
overlap of two domains takes place. These constant encroachments are
possible because of the upheaval and the chaos brought about by the
revolution and also because the characters are involved in situations
which facilitate such encroachments and minglings. The customers
come from the city ( A 1 ) into the brothel ( A 2 ) and into the studios
(B); Irma and her employees are in A2 but they also participate in
A1 and in B. This is the overall organization and general patterning
of the play. What happens in each tableau?

3.2.

The f i r s t four tableaux which open the play belong to domain B. The
cutomers are in the studios where they have enacted or will enact
their scenario. They appear as bishop, judge, general and tramp,
that is as persons who exist in the literal world. They wear cothurni
and exaggerated make-up, so that immediately it is apparent that they
are a transformation of literal individual and roles. They know and so
do their partners that what they are doing is make believe; the four
tableaux are keyings in terms of Goffman's framework. Actually these
tableaux demonstrate how the keyings are done and undone by means
of clothes, accessories, and language, and that they are possible
because the customers pay for the sessions. In Tableau I, the bishop
is being disrobed, strings are untied, his mitre and surplice are
going to be put away, and Irma the director of the brothel asks for
money. In tableau I I , a woman with a torn muslin dress orders a
Judge in robe crawling on the floor to lick her foot. Both are watch
ed by an executioner stripped to the waist, holding a whip. Then the
position changes and the woman is crawling on the floor and the
Judge dominates her. The components of the keying are permuted. In
tableau I I I , the spectator witnesses the progressive entering of the
 373

customer into where he will be a general. He wants his civilian

clothes hidden, he pays for his session, inquires about his accesso
ries, talks about the revolution outside, and then switches into his
role with his partner, a girl who plays the role of a horse. In tableau
IV, the customer waits for the last accessory to begin his keying.
Dressed as a tramp he only lacks a w i g , which is finally brought i n .
He inquires whether it has lice, and his session begins. In each of
the tableaux an asymmetrical relationship is enacted: bishop-sinner;
judge-thief; general-horse; tramp-girl who whips him. The body
position (standing versus s i t t i n g , crawling, or kneeling), the terms
of address and reference ( t u - v o u s ; title-non t i t l e ) , the pardoning and
the confessing of sins, the listening or the sentencing or the con
fessing of robberies, the ordering or the executing of orders, and
the whipping work together to foreground domination and submission,
strength and weakness, lawful and unlawful, and sadism and maso
chism. These keyings are presented as spectacles from the point of
view of an outsider or of a spectator watching them. There are no
references to the feelings of the customers or of their partners. This
is the f i r s t image, the f i r s t perspective on the keyings. Later in the
play others will be provided from the point of view of the partici
pants.

During these keyings the customers insist that what they do be

secret and hidden. When Irma asks whether she will be able to wit
ness the absolution performed by the bishop, he answers "freighten-
ed," says the stage direction: "No, no. Those things must remain
secret, and they shall. It's indecent enough to talk about them while
I am being undressed. Nobody. And all the doors must be closed.
Firmly closed, shut, buttoned, lace, hooked, sewn . . . " ( p p . 8-9).
The judge who hears a noise asks in a natural tone, that i s , stepping
out of his role, therefore out this frame: "What's that? Are all the
doors firmly shut? Can any one see us, or hear us?" ( p . 1 6 ) . But
later the spectator is informed that Jrma has a special viewing appa
ratus which permits her to watch what is going in in the different
 374

studios without the customers being aware of i t . The customers are

thus victims of a fabrication created and used by Irma. They think
they are participating in a secret and hidden keying, but in reality
they are watched. This fact adds one more perspective to the key-
ings. What is a simple keying for the characters is a fabrication when
viewed from the persepctive of Irma.

The sessions in the studios are constantly interrupted by elements

coming from A1 (the c i t y ) , from A2 (the brothel), and from (the
other studios). Thus machine guns are heard, and frequently the
cutomers step out of their role, out of their keying, to talk about the
revolution. The existence of the brothel as a place where various
activities are going on also keeps manifesting itself. A noise is heard
in the corridor next to the judge's studio; the bishop hears a scream
coming from another room and comments: "that was not a make believe
scream" ( p . 1 1 ) . The customers act with partners who are the employ
ees of the brothel, that is individuals in flesh and blood with person
al habits. For instance A r t h u r the executioner asks for the permission
to smoke a cigarette, and he has to ask because it is not part of the
scenario. The girl playing the thief cries out " A r t h u r " and in doing
so she steps out of her role, calling the executioner by his literal
name, to t r y to stop him from whipping her too hard. Such i n t e r r u p
tions prevent the keyings from being completely divorced from the
literal world, from being an exclusively separate world of fantasy.
They remind the customer that the literal world of the city with its
impending danger is out there, that there are other people in the
brothel, and that a particular keying is but one layer, one facet of
experience, and simultaneously other experiences are going on. The
scream which is not a make believe scream and the crying out of the
literal name of the executioner show that there is a very delicate
point, a limit in the keyings, that it is possible to go too f a r , and
9
that in such cases the keyings lead to a painful situation .
 375

After the f i r s t four tableaux presenting the customers in their studios

involved to different degrees in their keyings, tableau V takes place
in Irma's room and thus it brings to the foreground the brothel as a
literal institution within the city ( A 2 ) . Through the dialogues between
Irma and her confidente Carmen, Irma and the Chief of Police, and
Irma and Arthur, the spectator learns that the Chief of Police,
George, protects the brothel and receives money in exchange for his
protection; that A r t h u r , one of the employees, is a gigolo and Irma's
lover; that he is also given money in exchange for his services; and
that A r t h u r has been imposed on Irma by the Chief of Police. It also
becomes apparent that the brothel is an institution with very specific
rules and regulations. Irma demands a strictly regulated behavioural
etiquette from her employees. She insists that her customers be
referred to as visitors and not as customers and she forbids any
comment or allusion about what is going on in the studios or about
the scenarios or the customers. These are the facts and the rules of
the literal domain of the brothel, but they are intimately related to
what happens in the studios and in the keyings because it is thanks
to these facts and rules that the sessions are possible.

In this tableau before the arrival of the Chief of Police and of A r t h u r ,

a dialogue takes place between Irma and Carmen. What they say are
comments or metastatements which inform the spectator about particu
lar aspects of the keyings, providing a perspective from a partici
pant's and an insider's point of view. Carmen who has worked in the
studios before becoming Irma's secretary and confidente tells Irma the
following about one of her customers: "I saw his state of t e r r o r , how
10
he'd break out in sweat, I heard the rattle in his throat . . . " (p.32) .
And here is what she says about the employee's reaction: "when our
sessions are over, Madame, you never allow anyone to talk about
them. So you have no idea of how we really feel . . . But if you once
put on the dress and the blue veil . . . you'd know what that does to
a girl's soul" ( p . 3 0 ) . Irma herself makes the following remarks about
her customers: "When it's over, their minds are clear. I can tell from
 376

their eyes. Suddenly they understand mathematics. They love their

children and their country" ( p . 3 5 ) . In the studios t h e n , the keyings
permit the customers and their partners to indulge in acting, to
satisfy sadomasochistic tendencies, but also to participate in psycho
therapeutic and pseudo-mystic sessions which transport them outside
reality, soothe, and pacify them. Illusion is a multilayered experience.

In tableau V I , the action takes place in the c i t y . Chantal, a former

employee of the brothel, has escaped with a customer, Roger, and
they both participate in the revolution. The revolutionaries decide
that they have to find a woman who will pretend to be a heroine, that
is she will have to act in a keying of a role of a heroine. Chantal is
chosen to play this role and she accepts. She will do what she did in
the brothel, namely act out a role, not this time for the pleasure of
her customer, but for the success of the revolution. It appears then
that keyings are also necessary in real life activities. But when she
pretends to be the heroine she is involved in more than a keying,
because the crowd, the people of the town, do not know that she is
only playing a role, that she is not a literal heroine; thus she par
ticipates in a fabrication. When asked whether she can play this role
Chantal explains: "the brothel has taught me the art of pretence, of
acting. And I've had so many p a r t n e r s . . . And such artful ones, such
cunning and eloquent ones that my skill and t r i c k e r y and eloquence
are incomparable. I can be familiar with the Queen, the Hero, the
General . . . and can fool them all" ( p . 5 9 ) . These metastatements are
another perspective on what happens in the studios and they empha
size that for the prostitutes, the partners of the cutomers in B, the
keying are not only pretending and acting, they also involve a game
of cunning, t r i c k e r y , and deception. In other words within the key
ing there is also a component of fabrication.

Tableau VII prepares tableau V I I I . It takes place in the brothel, more

precisely in the studio which is called the Funeral Studio. But a
session is not in progress, we are in the domain of literal activities.
 377

A r t h u r has been killed by a stray bullet and is lying on a fake tomb.

He was to play in this very studio, that very evening, the role of a
corpse. Ironically his keying to be becomes literal. A little later in
tableau V I I I , keyings also become literal. The customers of the s t u
dios, the bishop, the judge, and the general, who, it will be recall
ed, were adamant about not being seen or heard, appear on the
balcony of the brothel as literal bishop, literal judge, and literal
general in the company of Irma who stands as the Queen. In this
tableau, (framed domain) overlaps with A 1 (the literal domain of
the c i t y ) . But in this appearance it is not only a keying which be
comes literal, there is one more component. The participants know
they are fake representatives of the authority, but the crowd does
not. The participants are involved in a fabrication created by the
Envoy of the Court and the Chief of Police, with the costumes pre
pared by Irma for their scenario in the studios. This fabrication aims
at controlling and deceiving the revolutionaries.

But the appearance on the balcony of the bishop, the judge, the
general, and the queen is a ceremony which is the equivalent of an
investiture. The new rulers are presented to the people, in a public
display. This sort of social ritual is a type of keying which takes
place in the real world, says Goffman ( p . 5 8 ) . It is plotted in ad
vance, rehearsals can occur, and a distinction can be drawn between
a rehearsal and the real performance. It turns out that in the play
the keyings in the studios of the brothel were rehearsals for that
particular ceremony. Irma prepared the costumes, the customers
learned how to wear them and to behave in them, and thus they
were, without knowing i t , preparing themselves and rehearsing for
the fabrication.

Tableau IX, which takes place in the brothel ( A 2 ) , presents several

instances of (framed activities) and A,, and A2 (literal ones) over
lapping. The fake general, the fake bishop, the fake judge, and Irma
have been made to parade in the street of town as if they were
 378

indeed the literal representatives of authority. The bishop describes

his experience: "You know who I saw . . . at the right (unable to
keep from laughing) with his f a t , good-natured mug and pink cheeks
. . . With his dimples and decayed teeth? And who threw himself in my
hand ... I thought to bite me, and I was about to pull away my
fingers ... to kiss my ring? Who? My fruit-and-vegetable man"
(p.71). And a woman was throwing kisses at them, the mob was
cheering, and flowers were tossed from a window ( p . 7 1 ) . The fabrica
tion was successful, the crowd thought the fake characters were
literal and legitimate ones.

In order to reinforce the success of the counter revolution photo

graphers come to take pictures of the fake representatives of authori
t y to display them in newspapers. These pictures are "true images
torn of a false spectacle" (p.75) notices the court envoy as he
watches what is going on. He knows, as does the spectator, that the
bishop, the judge, and the general are fake and that they are fab
rications for the crowd. So the pictures of them will be keyings of
fabrications, with more fabrications added. Since the fake general
does not have a baton, the photographer rolls up a sheet of paper in
the form of a baton and gives it to the general. The fake bishop does
not have a host, so the photographer takes the general's monocle and
puts it on the tongue of the bishop. The poses in the portraits of
Lafayette and Wellington are discussed in order to choose the correct
pose of the general. His picture then will be a keying of famous
conventional keyings. The appearance on the balcony, the parade in
the streets, and the pictures are instances of what Goffman calls
'performative displays'; these displays implicitly contain an order.
11
They mean 'obey', 'be submitted', 'respect power'.

Now that the fake bishop, the fake judge, and the fake general have
played the role of literal ones, the question is: are they to exercise
the function which pertains to their role? Or, in the terms I have
been using here are the fabrications to become permanent and thus in
 379

a sense literal? After some arguments and some scuffle the Chief of
Police decides that he is going to rule by himself. But this discussion
leads the fake representatives of authority to reminisce about what
they felt when they were in their studios enacting their roles. The
bishop says: " . . . For ours was a happy state. And absolutely safe.
In peace, in comfort, protected by a police force that protects b r o t h
els, we were able to be a general, judge and bishop to the point of
perfection and to the point of rapture! You tore us brutally from that
delicious, untroubled state". The general interrupts the bishop to
add: "My breeches! What joy when I pulled on my breeches: I now
sleep in my general's breeches, I eat in my breeches, I waltz - when
I waltz - in my breeches, I live in my general's breeches. I'm a
General the way one is a priest". The general answers the bishop:
"At no moment can I prepare myself - I used to start a month in
advance! - prepare myself for pulling on my general's boots and
breeches. I am rigged in them for all eternity. By Jove, I no longer
dream" (pp.79-80). These remarks are again metastatements on what
happened in the studios. This time it is the perspective of the cus
tomers themselves which is presented. Their remarks corroborate what
Irma and Carmen had said in tableau V about the meaningfulness of
the sessions. In contrast, the literal activities during which the
bishop, the judge, and the general act as literal representatives of
the authority are felt as not satisfactory at all; they are banal, they
lack novelty, they are too real. And this dissatisfaction with reality
is also stressed by Irma when in tableau V she mentions that the real
bishop, general, and judge are "props of a display that they have to
drag in the mud of the real and the commomplace. Here (in the
brothel) Comedy and Appearance remain p u r e , and the Revels intact".
(p.36).

The last section of tableau IX deals with something for which the
Chief of Police has been waiting for a long time: his keyings in one
of the studios of the brothel. Roger, Chantal's lover and revolutiona
ry, comes to act as the Chief of Police in the recently built new
 380

studio of the brothel: the mausoleum. The literal Chief of Police

watches through Irma's viewing apparatus and is struck by the fact
that Roger asks to wear a toupet. This detail is important, because
since the literal Chief of Police does wear a toupet, it means that
Roger comes to key not a stereotype as did the other customers in
the studios, but the specific and actual Chief of Police of the c i t y ,
George. Consequently George is watching a keying of himself being
performed. At the end of the sessions Roger tries to castrate himself
and in fact he wounds himself so badly that blood stains the carpet.
This gesture of castration of Roger playing the role of the Chief of
Police can be interpreted in various ways. It might be an attempt to
key and represent concretely what has been alluded to several times
in the play, namely the fact that George, the Chief of Police, is im
potent. He is impotent metaphorically because, as the customers in
the brothel say, he is a good for nothing Chief of Police: and he is
impotent physically because he had himself replaced by A r t h u r as
Irma's lover. It can also mean that Roger, the revolutionary, wants to
punish himself for the aborted revolution. Or that he thinks that the
Chief of Police is so powerful, since he made the revolution f a i l , that
somebody needs to castrate his image. Thus instead of being rep
resented by a giant phallus as somebody had advised him to do,
George is represented as a castrated man. Again here the play sug
gests many perspectives and many layers existing in one particular
strip of behaviour. In addition Roger presents a possibility which has
occurred earlier in the play: he pushes a keying to the limit, that is
to the point where it affects physically the person involved. In the
last portion of the play the Chief of Police, the literal one, enters the
mausoleum, one of the studios of the brothel, that is a room where
keyings take place temporarily, and decides to live there forever.
The place of keyings and illusions connected with death becomes a
place where George will live.
 381

3.3.

Structurally, then, The Balcony contains no plot with crisis and

dnouement, but rather an accumulation of situations which constitute
a series of variations on the combination A 1 (revolution in the c i t y ) ,
A2 (brothel as an i n s t i t u t i o n ) , and B (studios where framed activities
take place). In other words, the play presents various minglings and
overlaps of literal activities, keyings, and fabrications. Or, in
Genet's terms, various minglings and overlaps of images and their
reflections, since literal activities and characters are enacted and
impersonated in keyings and fabrications, which in t u r n are presented
as literal ones with metastatements being instances of reflections
(intended here in the optical sense) of literal and framed activities.
The characters are whirled through many experiences: one domain
slips into another, one domain unterrupts another, one domain be
comes another, with the result that there are constant displacements,
constant changes, and constant exchanges. In order to stress this
particular aspect of his play, Genet insists that it not be staged on a
revolving plateau: "I want my tableaux to be following each other,
decors to be moving from left to r i g h t , as of they were going to slide
12
the ones into the others, under the eyes of the spectators."

As the play progresses the different tableaux propose different per

spectives on the keyings and on literal activities. The keyings are
presented as sadomasochistic spectacles, psychotherapeutic and
pseudo-mystic sessions, as moments of bliss and rapture, as situa
tions of deception and cunning; the literal activities are so pres
tigious and so inspiring that they are copied and enacted in keyings
in the brothel, but when they become real they are banal and routine.

4.

I have dicussed how Genet presents various experiences in his play.

What are the consequences and implications of such a presentation?
The Balcony offers comments and perspectives on reality. Through
his literal and framed activities and through the mingling of them,
 382

Genet keys communication as it is experienced in everyday inter

actions. What happens in The Balcony is an exaggeration of what
individuals are constantly engaged i n : moving in and out of frames,
acting, replaying, imitating, being constantly exposed to keys and
13
benign fabrications in public life, in mass-media, and in ceremonies

4.1.

In the interplay of keyings, fabrications, and literal activities the

theme of power is constantly foregrounded. Power is represented,
symbolized, indexed, or connoted through various types of semiotic
14
systems. Iconic representations ( p o r t r a i t s , images, coins, stamps) ,
clothing (specific constumes, uniforms, colors), accessories (baton,
15
decorations, emblems) , body posture ( u p r i g h t position), language
1 fi
( t i t l e s , forms of address and reference) , and places are all signs of
17
power . In the play power has to be displayed to be effective, and
the individuals who represent power appear in a balcony and parade
in the streets; their pictures make their power constantly present in
the minds of the people. Here once again Genet keys what exists in
reality. The working of power in The Balcony is a representation of
the ways it functions in the real literal w o r l d , where it also depends
18
on visual, linguistic, and semiotic keys and farications

Another form of power which is presented in the play is that of a

system in which one individual controls others who are confined in a
specific space. The brothel is such a closed institution. As Carmen
says: "Entering the brothel means rejecting the world" ( p . 4 1 ) . This
brothel is organized by very strict rules. As was mentioned above,
according to brothel etiquette the employees do not have the r i g h t to
become friendly with the customers; they are not allowed to talk
about what happens in the studios; they have to call the customers,
"the v i s i t o r s " . And Irma establishes limits: she orders her employees
not to shout too loud; she asks A r t h u r if he did not hit the girl
playing the thief too h a r d ; she is worried by the tenderness that one
of her employees seems to express to one of the customers. She also
 383

constantly watches what is going on in the studios with her viewing

apparatus. Irma behaves like a jail director. The clothes that she
wears at the beginning of the play, a black tailored suit and a hat
with a t i g h t string (like a chin strap, says Genet), form a uniform
which could be the one of a jail director or jail warden. The brothel
run with an iron hand by Irma has all the characteristics of a panop-
tical system as it is described by Foucault. Such a system is adopted
in jails and institutions where individuals ae constantly seen, watch
ed, controlled, and submitted to strict rules in order to insure the
19
functioning of power

4.2.

A feature of the play, which is a consequence of the opposition and

mingling of literal and framed activities, is that of constant circulation
and exchange. In the brothel customers pay to enact scenarios. In
exchange Irma provides them with costumes, accessories, and part
ners who lend their bodies and their time. Consequently Irma accu
mulates money with which she buys diamonds and clothes for herself,
pays the Chief of Police in exchange for his protection, and pays
A r t h u r the gigolo for his services. She also indulges in voyeurism in
using her special viewing apparatus. The customers derive pleasure
and satisfactions of various kinds (as I have analyzed above) while
the partners receive money, but also experience pleasure, or pain, as
is the case of the g i r l who plays the role of the thief and gets
whipped. On the balcony, in the parade, and in the pictures, the
fake bishop, the fake general, the fake judge, and Irma playing the
role of the Queen contribute their bodies, the costumes, and the
accessories of the brothel to stop the revolution; while Chantal lends
her body and her t r i c k e r y to play the role of the heroine in the
service of the revolution. The commodities which are exchanged in
this circuit established in the play are costumes, symbols, postures,
gestures, money, pictures, sex, sadism, masochism, word, and bodies
This generalized economy is akin to the system of exchange analyzed
20
by Marcel Mauss in preliterate societies , but instead of establishing
 384

communion and allegiance among the members who participate in i t , as

Mauss claimed it d i d , it reveals power and exploitation. As such the
play is a commentary on the workings of exchange in modern societies.

4.3.

Movement, instability, and change are other components of the play

which are manifested in many aspects of i t . The characters constantly
move in and out of frames, and change roles, clothes, and situations.
The experience of seeing, of images and of reflections, is also part of
that system. The customers in their studios are adamant about not
being seen by anyone, but they see themselves in mirrors and are
watched by Irma without their knowing i t . When they become fabrica
tions of bishop, general, and judge, they are on display on the
balcony, in the parade, and in pictures, to be seen by the crowd.
What is secret becomes public, what is just a reflection becomes real.
In addition Genet chooses psychic states which are characterized by
instability. Laplanche's reading of Freud shows that sadism and
masochism are intimately connected in a structure which continually
presents multiple possibilities: "concerning sadism and masochism,
there are two contiguous 'vicissitudes' that come into play: 'reversal
into the opposite' and 'turning around upon the subject.' The rever
sal into the opposite, for example would be the change in a drive
from active to passive, or vice versa, which leads to a kind of com
plementarity between the two positions, just as one can move gram
matically from an active to a passive propostion through a simple
reversible transformation". This situation exists in the different
studios of the brothels and is acted out in detail in the tableau of the
judge and the thief. Voyeurism is evident in Irma's behavior, but in
other characters as well,
is also part of a pair of opposites with
21
exhibitionism; and together they function like sadism and masochism

4.4.

My examination of literal and framed activities in The Balcony shows

that their functioning obeys what Derrida calls the logic of sup-
 385

22
plementarity . Supplements are utilized to remedy a deficiency, or to
supply something additional. These two aspects are constantly present
in the play. The customers who go to the brothel go there to sup
plement a lack or to add something to their life. They are people
living essentially in solitude, refusing or not being able to communi
cate with others and finding in the brothel a place which provides
psychic protection from normal intersubjective relations, and fetishiz-
23
ed bodies in a ritualistic space . The revolution too needs a sup
plement in the person of Chantal who is asked to play the role of
heroine; even the counterrevolutionary needs supplements in the
person of the customers, who in their attire from the brothel, appear
on the balcony. Finally and importantly power needs symbols, cos
tumes, and accessories as supplements. Everything in the play needs
to be supplemented by something else.

4.5.

The Balcony represents a world which is hollow and unsubstantial,

which contains no core and no center, but only sham, f a k e r y , re
plays, and instability; it is also a world where supplements are nec
essary, and where there are multiple meanings and perspectives on
one situation. It is indeed the glorification of image and reflection.
But there is still another component which is prevalent in the play
and which appears in the literal and framed activities. It is the fact
that Genet stages contrasts, discrepancies, and clashes, in roles, in
costumes, in language, and in situations. From the discussions be
tween Irma and Carmen it appears that the customers of the brothel
are divided into two groups: workers and employees on the one hand
and officials in high positions on the other; and that the members of
these groups choose roles which are diametrically opposed and con
trast sharply with what they are. Working class individuals want to
be bishop, general, judge, and chief of police, whereas the high
officials want to be tramps with lice, waiters, goats, and farmers.
Discrepancies in accessories and costumes are demanded. The cus
tomers always wear exaggerated make u p , and there must always be
 386

an out-of-place detail. For instance the customer who enacts the role
of a waiter complains bitterly because Irma has forgotten to buy a
pink apron instead of a white one; and Carmen, in the role of Saint
Teresa she might play, will have black lace under her homespun
skirt. Characters create discrepancies and contrasts with words too.
Irma is capable of being very refined and very elegant in her way of
speaking but she can also in the same sentence use the argot of
prostitutes, thus juxtaposing lyricism and v u l g a r i t y : " . . . quand je me
nomme, dans le secret de mon coeur, mais avec une grande prcision,
une tenancire de boxon. Chrie quand secrtement, dans le silence
je me rpte en silence: Tu es une mre maquerelle, une patronne de
claque et de bouic, chrie, tout (soudain lyrique) s'envole: lustres,
24
miroirs, tapis, pianos, cariatides et mes salons . . . " (p.78) . The
bishop holding the flap of his surplice says the following: "Oh laces,
laces, fashioned by a thousand little hands to veil ever so many
panting bosoms, buxom bosoms . . . you illustrate me with branches
and flowers!" ( p . 11). He points out that the lace can be part of the
most sacred costume, in a most ceremonial surrounding, and can also
be a teasing and titillating element, in the most physical and personal
of situation, that of eroticism and sexual intercourse. A little later
the bishop continues this type of discrepancy when he addresses
again his surplice: "And in order to destroy all functions, I want to
cause a scandal and feel you u p , you slut, you b i t c h , you trollop,
you tramp ..." ( p . 12). Nothing in the play indicates that the cus
tomers want to degrade the sacred and the powerful. Such words,
rather than being intended as blasphemy or degradation, stem from
the desire and the pleasure of creating* contrasts and clashes. And of
course Saint Genet, as Sartre called him, because he wanted to be
come a saint in criminality, the thief and the prostitute who became a
famous dramatist and novelist, accepted both by high society and by
the 'scum,' certainly enjoys the discrepancies and contrasts he set up
in his play, having the customers of a brothel become the rulers of a
city, and making a character dressed as a bishop swear: "For
25
Christ's sake, leave me alone. Get the hell o u t ! " (p.12) . The
 387

Balcony is the work of a man who has the sense of hierarchies and
ceremonial that would have been required to live in Versailles, but it
is also the work of a man who knows the hierarchies and the rules of
26
the underworld and enjoys play and manipulation to the extreme

The basic message that both real life and representation are play
exists in Escher, Hill, Magritte, Robbe-Grillet, and Velasquez; but
Genet goes f u r t h e r in showing that under the trappings of represen
tation and communication there is no center, but only movement, ex
change, and instability. Is Genet a pessimist then? It is up to the
reader to decide; but perhaps it is time to stop being affected by
what has been called European schizophrenia and be aware that sci
entists and social thinkers in their works point to instability and
fluctuation without giving them negative connotations. "This is the
end of certitudes ... it is the opening to a period of multiple ex
perimentation, of an increased awareness of both the incertitude and
the great possibilities implied by our human condition", writes Ilya
.27
Prigogine

Notes

1 See The Graphic Work of M.C. Escher (New York: Ballantine

Books), p.28; John Hill is the director of the film The Sting; the
reproduction of Magritte's Le Modle rouge appears in Jacques
Derrida La Vrit en peinture (Paris: Flammarion, 1978), p.359;
Robbe-Grillet's La Maison de rendez-vous (Paris: Minuit, 1965) is
analyzed in my 'Serial constructs in the Nouveau Roman', Poetics
Today, Vol. I, 3 (1980), 87-106; Las Meninas is reproduced and
analyzed by Michel Foucault in Les Mots et les choses (Paris:
Gallimard, 1966), p p . 1 - 3 1 .

2 Jean Genet, Le-Balcon (L'Arbalte: Marc Barbeza, 1962). See

preface p. 10. My quotations when not otherwise specified are taken
from The Balcony translated by Bernard Frechtman (New York:
Grove, 1966).

3 Although my study focuses on this particular play by Genet, it is

also relevant to his other works, plays and novels, in which i l l u
sion and reality, images and reflections are constantly explored.
 388

4 Erving Goffman, Frame Analysis (New York: Harper, 1974).

5 Gregory Bateson, 'A Theory of Play and Fantasy', Steps to an

ecology of mind (New York: Ballantine, 1975), pp.177-183.

6 Sometimes the keyings are taken literally. For instance it is re

ported that in the Middle Ages when scenes of the Bible were en
acted, the character playing Juda was stoned by the crowd.

7 Of course in terms of the spectator the play itself is a keying and

the revolution is a keyed activity within i t . The fact that Genet
calls the different sections of the play 'tableaux' reinforces the
idea of framed activities where everything is set up to imitate what
is going on in the literal world.

8 Martin Esslin in his essay 'A hall of m i r r o r s ' , The Theater of the
Absurd (New Y o r k : Doubleday, 1969) mentions Genet's preoccupa
tion with the borderline between fantasy and reality ( p . 180).

9 In tableau V Irma asks A r t h u r if he did not beat the thief too

h a r d , if he dod not enjoy whipping her too much. A r t h u r answers
that in fact he had tried to avoid this problem and had thought of
painting the back of the girl to simulate lashes of the whip. But
that solution was not accepted by the customer. It was another
limit which was delicate; instead of being too real, too literal, it
was not enough.

10 Actually "break out in sweat" is not the exact translation of the

French text which says " t r a n c e . " The word trance should be kept
because it implies a state of altered consciousness, a stunned
condition, a sort of stupor, which is what Genet wanted to con
vey.

11 See Goffman, p.58. A performative is a term coined by the p h i

losopher of language Austin and it refers to verbs like 'order,'
'promise,' and 'marry.' Such verbs serve to make explicit and at
the same time more precise what act it is that the speaker p u r
ports to perform in issuing his utterance; in fact their utterance
is an essential aspect of the performance of the act. See J . L .
Austin 'Performative-Constative', Philosophy and Ordinary Lan
guage, Charles Caton ed. (Urbana: University of Illinois Press,
1963), pp.22-54.

12 See preface to the French edition of the play, p.6.

13 That is one of the conclusions which emerges from Goffman's

Frame Analysis.

14 For a penetrating study dealing with the question of the re

presentation of power, see Louis Marin 'L'inscription de la mmoire
du Roi: sur l'histoire mtallique de Louis X I V , ' Documents de
 389

t r a v a i l , 90 s r i e F, 1980 ( C e n t r o I n t e r n a u i o n a l e d i Semiotica e d i
Linguistica, Urbino).

15 T h e C h i e f of Police mentions in t a b l e a u V I I t h a t his men a r e p r o

t e c t i n g t h e b r o t h e l w e a r i n g his emblem ( p . 6 4 ) , t h a t is as r e p r e
s e n t a t i v e s a n d d e f e n d e r s of p o w e r .

16 I deal w i t h t h e system of r e f e r e n c e a n d a d d r e s s in t h e p l a y , i n
'Les a p p e l l a t i f s d a n s Le Balcon de G e n e t ' , F r e n c h Review 4 8 , ( I ) ,
1974, p p . 9 5 - 1 0 7 .

17 T h e way in w h i c h t h e d e a t h of a man in power is t r e a t e d is also a

s i g n of his power and p r e s t i g e , and Genet is aware of t h a t . He
has t h e g e n e r a l d e s c r i b e t h e p r o c e s s i o n p a r a d i n g h i s own c o r p s e
of g e n e r a l t h r o u g h t h e c i t y ; t h e n a t i o n is w e e p i n g f o r h i m , and a
m i l i t a r y b a n d p l a y s a f u n e r a l march ( p . 2 7 ) .

18 I t s h o u l d be n o t e d t h a t as f a r as c o s t u m e s , u n i f o r m s , and acces
sories a r e c o n c e r n e d , Genet recommends in his p r e f a c e t o t h e
F r e n c h e d i t i o n t h a t t h e y be t h o s e of t h e c o u n t r y w h e r e t h e p l a y
is p e r f o r m e d .

19 Michel Foucault, S u r v e i l l e r et p u n i r (Paris: Gallimard, 1975),

pp.202-229.

20 Marcel M a u s s , T h e G i f t : Forms and F u n c t i o n s of E x c h a n g e in Ar

chaic Societies ( G l e n c o e , I I I : Free P r e s s , 1954).

21 Jean L a p l a n c h e , L i f e and Death in P s y c h o a n a l y s i s ( B a l t i m o r e : The

Johns H o p k i n s U n i v e r s i t y P r e s s , 1976), p p . 8 5 - 1 0 2 .

22 Jacques D e r r i d a , ' S t r u c t u r e , S i g n and Play in t h e D i s c o u r s e o f

Human Sciences,' T h e Languages of C r i t i c i s m a n d T h e Sciences
of M a n , R i c h a r d Macksey and Eugenio D o n a t o , e d s . ( B a l t i m o r e :
T h e Johns H o p k i n s P r e s s , 1 9 7 0 ) , p p . 2 4 7 - 2 7 3 .

23 T h e same s i t u a t i o n is p r e s e n t e d i n Luis B u n u e l ' s f i l m Belle de

J o u r . For an e x c e l l e n t a n a l y s i s see Paul S a n d r o ' T e x t u a l i t y of t h e
S u b j e c t in Belle de J o u r , ' S u b - s t a n c e 2 6 , 1980, p p . 4 3 - 5 6 .

24 I am q u o t i n g t h e F r e n c h t e x t h e r e t o a t t r a c t a t t e n t i o n t o t h e d i f
f e r e n t s y n o n y m s of t h e w o r d b r o t h e l Irma u s e s : " b o x o n , c l a q u e ,
b o u i c , " w h i c h are lost in t h e E n g l i s h t r a n s l a t i o n ( p . . 3 7 ) , b u t a r e
crucial f o r the contrast they provide with words like " l u s t r e s ,
miroirs, tapis, cariatides."

25 C o n t r a s t s a n d clashes a r e also w h a t D e r r i d a d i s p l a y s in his book

Glas. A n n t e r t e x t u a l m o n t a g e , Glas b r i n g s t o g e t h e r in t w o c o l
umns f a c i n g each o t h e r , on each page o f t h e b o o k , t h e w r i t i n g s
of Hegel and t h o s e of Genet h i m s e l f . ( G l a s , P a r i s : E d i t i o n s G a l i
lee, 1974).
 390

26 T h a t Genet knows also t h e p r o t o c o l and r u l e s of t h e ' u n d e r w o r l d '

is a p p a r e n t w h e n in his p r e f a c e ( p p . 7 - 8 ) he i n s i s t s on t h e f a c t
t h a t t h e a c t r e s s p l a y i n g Irma say t h e w o r d s " b o x o n , c l a q u e ,
b o u i c " a l t h o u g h t h e y a r e v e r y v u l g a r . S h o u l d she be r e a l l y d i s
t u r b e d b y t h e m , Genet w o u l d t o l e r a t e t h a t she says " x o n b o ,
b r e c h i , " t h a t is t h e same w o r d s t r a n s f o r m e d i n t o t h e b a c k w a r d
t a l k f r e q u e n t l y used as a l i n g o in t h e u n d e r w o r l d .

27 See I l y a P r i g o g i n e a n d Isabelle Stengers, La Nouvelle A l l i a n c e

( P a r i s : G a l l i m a r d , 1979).

References

Austin, L.J. 1963

' P e r f o r m a t i v e - C o n s t a t i v e ' , i n : C h a r l e s Gaton ( e d . ) , Philosophy
and O r d i n a r y Language ( U r b a n a : U n i v . of I l l i n o i s P r e s s ) , p p . 2 2 -
54.

Bateson, Gregory 1975

'A T h e o r y of Play and F a n t a s y , ' i n : G. B a t e s o n , Steps t o an
Ecology of Mind (New Y o r k : B a l l a n t i n e ) , p p . 1 1 7 - 1 8 3 .

D e r r i d a , Jacques 1970
' S t r u c t u r e , S i g n and Play in t h e D i s c o u r s e of Human S c i e n c e s , '
i n : R. Macksey and E. Donato ( e d s . ) , T h e Language of C r i t i c i s m
and T h e Sciences of Man ( B a l t i m o r e : T h e John H o p k i n s U P ) ,
pp.247-273.

D e r r i d a , Jacques 1974
Glas ( P a r i s : Ed. Galilee).

D e r r i d a , Jacques 1978
La V r i t en p e i n t u r e ( P a r i s : Minuit).

Esslin, Martin 1969

T h e T h e a t e r of t h e A b s u r d (New Y o r k : Doubleday).

F o u c a u l t , Michel 1966
Les mots et les choses ( P a r i s : Gallimard).

F o u c a u l t , Michel 1975
S u r v e i l l e r et p u n i r ( P a r i s : Gallimard).

Goffman, Erving 1974

Frame A n a l y s i s (New Y o r k : Harper).

L a p l a n c h e , Jean 1976
Life and Death in P s y c h o a n a l y s i s (Baltimore: The John Hopkins
UP).
 391

Marin, Louis 1980

'L'inscription de la mmoire du Roi: sur l'histoire mtallique de
Louis X I V ' , Documents de travail 90, srie F (Urbino: Centro
Internazionale di Semiotica e di Linguistica).

Mauss, Marcel 1954

The Gift: Forms and Functions of Exchange in Archaic Societies
(Glencoe, Illinois: Free Press).

Prigogine, 'llya and Isabelle Stengers 1979

La Nouvelle Alliance (Paris: Gallimard).

Sandro, Paul 1980

'Textuality of the Subject in Belle de Jour,' Sub-stance 26,
pp.43-56.

Sherzer, Dina 1974

'Les appellatifs dans Le-Balcon de Genet,' Franch-Review 48, 1 ,
pp.95-107.

Sherzer, Dina 1980

'Serial constructs in the Nouveau Roman,' Poetics Today 1 , 3,
pp.87-106.

Studies on Genet consulted

Cetta, Lewis T . 1974

Profane Play, Ritual and Jean Genet (University: University of
Alabama Press).

, Richard N. 1968
The Vision of Jean Genet (New York: Grove Press).

Ehrmann, Jacques 1963

'Genet's Dramatic Metamorphorsis: From Appearance to Freedom,'
Yale French Studies 29, pp.33-42.

Fal, Gisle 1975

' Le Balcon de Genet ou le culte matriarcal: une interprtation
mythique,' French Review 48, 5, pp.897-907.

Grossvogel, David 1966

The Blasphemers: the theater of Brecht, Ionesco Beckett, Genet
(Ithaca, Cornell University Press).

Knapp, Bettina 1968

Jean Genet (New York: Twayne Publishers).

McMahon, Joseph 1963

The Imagination of Jean Genet (New Haven: Yale University
Press).
 392

S a r t r e , Jean-Paul 1963
Genet actor and m a r t y r (New Y o r k : Geore B r a z i l l e r ) .

T h o d y , Philip 1968
Jean Genet (New Y o r k : Stein and D a y ) .

Weightman, John 1967

'Black Chivalry,' T h e New Y o r k Review of Books (24 August
1967), p p . 6 - 7 .
 A C T I N G AND B E H A V I O U R : A S T U D Y IN T H E SIGNANS

Jii Veltrusk

In a recent article (Veltrusky 1976) I tried to outline some of the

main issues of the semiotics of a c t i n g . T h e present article is closely
connected with the previous one but they are independent. I do not
propose to repeat here what I said in the other a r t i c l e ; hence the
f r e q u e n t references to i t .

This article, like the previous one, only examines acting in the
theatre. Film acting and elements of acting in everyday life have
been left aside for the sake of c l a r i t y ; the concept of t h e a t r e , on the
other h a n d , is to be taken in the broadest sense.

1 . T h e Problem

Acting can be succinctly defined as the representation of human and

anthropomorphic beings and their actions and behaviour by human
beings and t h e i r actions and behaviour. It derives from the looks and
behaviour of human and anthropomorphic beings and at the same time
it evokes them. What it produces is manifestly not of the same nature
as what it derives f r o m . In real life people and their actions and b e
haviour do not, as a r u l e , represent t h e i r like; t h e y just are what
they are. It is this difference t h a t must be studied to find out how,
in a c t i n g , human beings and their actions and behaviour turn into
 394

signantia. However, there is no simple and straightforward way of

describing i t .

It is not an absolute difference, because some elements of acting also

appear in everyday behaviour, often without anybody noticing, let
alone paying attention t o , what they are meant to signify. Besides,
much as acting may differ from ordinary behaviour in its general
shape, most if not all of the details which make up a performance are
no different from the corresponding details of ordinary behaviour.
The entire performance is dominated by the same physiological laws as
any other form of human behaviour and, although training can very
much broaden the limitations they impose on the actor's freedom, many
elements of his performance result not from his artistic intention but
simply from physiological necessity. Secondly, the difference is not
always objective, because certain players perform whole complex
actions, not only their details, in the same way on the stage as
anybody would in private; sometimes an actor even looks the same as
he does in private. Nonetheless, the audience may perceive all the
elements of the performance as signs because most of them are signs.

It follows that the difference does not necessarily pertain to all the
parts and components of the performance. A monograph on Joseph
Grimaldi points out that in his day fencing on the stage was not
choreographed but real. Long before he became a clown, Grimaldi
made his reputation at the D r u r y Lane theatre because he excelled in
this martial a r t , just as Mrs. Wybrow won fame by her prowess with
the sword (Findlater 1978 :76). Another example: When, during a
scene in which he was to play a character sleeping, Constant Coque-
lin one night really fell asleep and snored, the spectators failed to
notice that he was not acting and some of them found that he was
overdoing his bit of 'business' (Coquelin 1968 :67). In other words,
an audience which has been set by the whole performance to receive
signs may take even a fairly protracted piece of unintentional be
haviour as a sequence of signs.

Furthermore, the difference between life and acting has several

aspects none of which seems to be omnipresent, let alone sufficient by
 395

itself. Some of them derive from others, and each carries a different
relative weight in different theatrical structures. Nonetheless, three
of these aspects seem to be crucial: f i r s t l y , acting is characterized
by what may be called its distinctness, secondly, acting consists in
breaking down behaviour and building it u p ; finally, it has a certain
consistency of its own, different from the consistency of ordinary
behaviour.

2. Distinctness

2.1 Distinctness defined

Stanislavski, when he was an inexperienced amateur actor, chose a

play in which his favourite actor had triumphed and imitated that
actor's performance, as he had perceived i t , in every detail: move
ments, stage business, voice production, intonations, gestures, facial
play. Once he appeared before the audience, he found himself in a
state of exhilaration, and his words and gestures flew extremely fast.
This gave him the sensation of holding the audience in his power.
But after the performance he discovered that nobody had understood
him because, overdoing the imitation of his favourite actor's charac
teristic voice, he had spoken too faintly and too hoarsely, and he had
moved too fast in his excitement and waved his hands in the air with
such rapidity that no one could see what he was doing (Stanislavsky
1956 2 :60-61).

The aspect of acting which is at issue here is its distinctness. This

concept has two complementary facets: in one way or another, acting
differs from ordinary behaviour; and, unlike ordinary behaviour, it is
meant to be perceived. Stanislavski manifestly erred in both respects.

As regards the f i r s t facet, he went wrong in not noticing that the

peculiar features of his model's delivery (such as a sickly and hoarse
voice) were not absolute but merely differential values: in real life
the voice production varies all the time, so that a sickly and hoarse
 396

voice may be used by anybody on occasion, whereas the actor whom

Stanislavski admired probably used it in a more consistent manner
to make it a characteristic feature of his performance; the difference
resulting from such a shift is in fact much slighter than it appears to
the audience. Yet, judging by his account, what Stanislavski imitated
was not the actor's actual performance but the impression he himself
had had of it as a spectator; so he made a recurrent type of voice
production uniform, and thus transformed a differential value into an
absolute one.

With respect to the other facet of distinctness, namely perceptibility,

Stanislavski went wrong because he failed to realize that in the
theatre the spectators are set to take in the details of the actor's
performance, since every detail may bear some meaning, and that this
distinguishes the theatre from life. In real life, indeed, people usual
ly pay attention only to the general characteristics or a few details of
a stranger's appearance and behaviour (those that actually matter to
them in a given situation or strike them for one reason or another)
and do not even notice the rest. Stanislavski himself pointed out
many years later that the actor on the stage "is scrutinized by
thousands of onlookers as through a magnifying glass" (Stanislavsky
1950:38).

This does not mean that the spectators actually take note of every
single detail. Perception is always selective, and this is true even of
the perception of art although the aesthetic function works to the
opposite effect. The selectivity of perception in the theatre is well
illustrated by an amusing story, which exists in several versions, n-
4
cluding one reported by Coquelin (1968 :45-46): an actor who forgot
his lines at a crucial point in a play replaced them with an equivalent
number of nonsense verses, delivered with impassioned conviction; he
was wildly applauded by an audience which had failed to notice any
thing unusual about his speech.

Gunnar Johansson's laboratory experiments, carried out in a field

which is very pertinent to acting, show how selective perception in
 397

general can be. With small flashlight bulbs attached to the joints -
shoulders, elbows, wrists, hips, knees and ankles - a person is
filmed walking against a dark background in a darkened room. People
watching the film are puzzled during the opening section, when the
'actor' is sitting motionless in a chair, but as soon as he rises and
starts to move they recognize a human being walking; sometimes it
takes them only a tenth of a second to do so. Similar results are
obtained when the film shows limping, running in different directions,
cycling, climbing, a couple dancing, various types of gymnastic
motion, etc. A walking person is also easily recognized when the
number of bulbs is reduced to f i v e , representing the hip-and-legs
part of the movement; most viewers describe this as "two walking
legs" (Johansson 1973 and 1975). I have been told that in the film of
two people performing a lively folk dance it is even possible to dis
tinguish the male from the female dancer. The viewer here is, of
course, set on recognition. By contrast, the spectator in the theatre
is set on getting the full meaning of the acting. But he cannot get it
without recognition. That is where the distinctness and the implied
perceptibility of acting come into the picture.

Perceptibility as a facet of the distinctness which characterizes acting

should not be confused with such requirements as c l a r i t y , simplicity,
restraint, austerity, economy and so on. Though they are sometimes
adopted by theoreticians, these are normative, not analytical con
cepts, and therefore pertinent to certain schools and periods but not
to others. All of them are irrelevant to the art of the Elizabethan
actors or Garrick, for instance. Bradbrook pointed out that the
Elizabethan actors exaggerated movements and statuesqueness and
used inflated delivery and conventional posture. Facial distortion was
practised to an extreme degree and the word 'face-maker' could
simply mean 'actor'. To express grief, the actor would throw himself
to the ground or, in milder cases, sit there, while joy was expressed
by cutting capers. Actors had to be not only swordsmen but also
gymnasts, for they would leap from the walls or into the t r a p . The
delivery must have been stentorian. Violent action implied violent
 398

delivery, as in George Chapman's Bussy d'Ambois, for instance,

where Montsurry drags his wife Tamyra on to the stage by her hair.
In John Marston's Antonio's Revenge the Revengers swear on the
body of the murdered Feliche which is laid across the chest of the
hero, who has just recited a lengthy soliloquy lying on his back
(Bradbrook 1960 2 :20-26). In John Webster's Duchess of Malfi Ferdi
nand gives the Duchess a dead man's hand, which she kisses be
lieving it is his own, and when she discovers the h o r r o r , artificial
figures of her husband and children, looking as if they were dead,
appear behind a traverse. A little later she is confronted with a
group of madmen in a scene which culminates in a dance "consisting
of Eight Madmen, with music answerable thereunto." A dumb show in
his White Devil presents Camillo about to vault when Flamineo pitches
him upon the neck and, with the help of two captains, "writhes his
neck about;" then he "seems to see if it be broke, and lays him
folded double, as 'twere under the [vaulting] horse." The success of
the English actors with continental audiences which did not under
stand their language and the great impact they made on the devel
opment of the German theatre in the 17th century was apparently due
to these qualities of their acting (Flemming 1926).

As to Garrick, a contemporary account of his performance of Macbeth

speaks of the whisper in "low but piercing notes" in which he and
Mrs. Pritchard played the beginning of the scene after the murder,
and of the expression of "heartfelt horror" with which he displayed
his bloodstained hands. Throughout the scene, till he said "Will all
great Neptune's ocean... etc.," his complexion was seen growing
"whiter every moment," which was probably an illusion due to several
elements of his acting; a critic suggested that he had merely wiped
off his make-up before coming on stage. On the opening night he
made his entrance with his coat and waistcoat unbuttoned and his wig
in disorder, but he abandoned this effect afterwards (Bartolomeusz
2
1978 :60-62).

Furthermore, perceptibility as a facet of the distinctness of acting

does not imply a priori any specific degree of intelligibility. Even so
 399

lucid a thinker as Karl Bhler did not quite resist the temptation to
substitute intelligibility for perceptibility when, in his discussion of
Johann Jacob Engel's classic treatise on acting, he stated that in the
theatre the gestures are highlighted and rendered extremely distinct
so as to make sure that what is otherwise no more than a clue must
be seen and cannot be overlooked even by "stupid eyes" (Bhler
1933:46). A posture, gesture, facial expression, cadence or timbre
which conveys an indeterminate meaning is in no way inferior a r t i s t
ically; it is often appreciated as "enigmatic" or "revealing a profound
internal disturbance." Certain of the procedures by which the ref
erential function of language is sometimes eliminated in the theatre
(Veltrusky 1976) involve intentionally defective articulation. Opera
provides another, though more complicated, example. The ability of
some opera singers to articulate intelligibly is appreciated but the
lack of this ability does not devalue others; and many opera lovers
enjoy performances in foreign languages which they do not under
stand, except for a few 'catchwords.'

Finally, distinctness is not to be confused with distinctiveness, a

notion which has acquired a crucial importance in semiotics. The two
concepts differ quite radically (Jakobson and Waugh 1979:4-5). Dis
tinctness is one of the characteristics of acting but it is not sufficient
to make acting distinctive. In other words, this quality of acting does
not have the ability to distinguish acting from people's actions and
behaviour in real life.

Among the many factors which jointly bring about the distinctness of
acting in its two facets - being different and being perceptible - four
seem to be particularly important: straight difference between acting
and life, acting conventions, semiotic intentionality, and controlled
tempo. Although they variously do overlap, each one of them c o n t r i
butes in its own way.
 400

2 . 2 . S t r a i g h t difference between acting and life

In one way or another, acting always differs from human behaviour as

it is in real life. T h e difference can be quite slight and s u b t l e , as in
the voice production of the actor whom Stanislavski so unsuccessfully
imitated in his early performance. Another example: in Otomar
Krejca's production of Samuel Beckett's Waiting for Godot (Avignon
Festival 1978), Michel Bouquet picks up, raises and inclines a wine
bottle with a delicate and graceful gesture when he plays Pozzo d r i n k
ing from the bottle [Fig.1]

F i g . 1 : Michel Bouquet as Pozzo in Otomar Krejca's production of

Samuel Beckett's Waiting for Godot. Photo by Marcel de M u n -
n y n c k . Courtesy of Atelier Thtral de L o u v a i n - I a - N e u v e .

But the difference may also be d r a s t i c . In Meierkhold's 1924 p r o d u c

tion of Alexander Ostrovski's Forest the lovers' behaviour and t h e i r
rising elation as they discuss their escape is represented by the two
 401

F i g . 2 : T h e "giant strides" in MeierKnoid's production of Alexander Ostrovsk

T h e a t r e Collection, T h e New Y o r k Public L i b r a r y at Lincoln C e n t r e .
A s t o r , Lenox and T i l d e n Foundations.
 402

actors' swinging during their dialogue on the "giant-strides" (ropes

with loops, suspended from a pole) (Braun 1969:192) [ F i g . 2 ] .

Straight difference prevents the spectators from taking acting for

life. In this sense it is a negative factor. To some extent it also
draws their attention to the details: when the difference is slight the
details on which it relies tend either to strike or to puzzle them;
when it is radical the details of acting which are the same as in real
life may provide clues on which the intelligibility of the performance
largely depends.

2.3. Acting conventions

Every form of theatre uses, more or less systematically, conventional

ized components and devices. It may be enough to mention here the
language of gesture used in the Kathakali of South India (Jones and
Jones 1970:85-90), the Commedia dell' Arte costumes, the lexicalized
make-up, costumes and gestures of the classic Chinese theatre
(Bruk 1939), the dance movements which the Topeng performer of
Bali learns by heart, one by one, as the master manipulates his limbs
and pushes and pulls his body into proper shape (Emigh 1979), the
singing which represents speech in opera, and the Japanese No
actors' voice production in the pharynx (Tamba 1974:36). Conven
tionalized components and procedures need not always be as peculiar
as those just mentioned. Most of the discoveries or simple mannerisms
of a great or successful actor are as a rule very soon included in the
actors' general repertory ('vocabulary') and even taught in the
schools of acting. The degree of conventionalization varies from cul
ture to culture, from period to period and from one theatrical struc
ture to another.

Far from being just the players' t r i c k s , acting conventions belong to

a more general repertory which is part of the given culture; in other
words, the actors share this repertory with their audience. Thus the
spectator perceives the performance not with an 'innocent eye' b u t ,
 403

on the c o n t r a r y , with an increased ability (which of course is not the

same in e v e r y period and with e v e r y spectator) to notice its nuances,
original features, achievements and failures. Even as regards the
strictly lexicalized 'language of gesture' of the Indian Bharata Natyan
and Kathakali theatres - and the Kootiyattam can be added as well -
it has been r i g h t l y pointed out that the quality of acting makes the
whole difference between its degenerating into a deaf-and-dumb lan
guage and its becoming an enchanting dance ( A . A . Bake 1961). This
is especially important because an intense relationship between actors
and spectators is one of the peculiarities of the semiotics of acting:
the actor is personally present in his work or product a n d , on the
other h a n d , the spectator to some e x t e n t sees the work of a r t in the
making, inasmuch as e v e r y performance consists in the actor's c r e a t
ing his work afresh ( V e l t r u s k y 1976).

2 . 4 . Semiotic intentionality

After seeing the Japanese Kabuki, Charles Dullin put his f i n g e r on

the t h i r d factor. He observed t h a t e v e r y gesture is heightened by a
marked trait which gives it all its v a l u e . When an actor kicks an
enemy, he does not touch his fellow-actor but the movement is carried
out so exactly t h a t it gives a stronger impression of b r u t a l i t y than if
he did; when he strikes with the edge of his sword, he hardly
touches the fellow-actor's body but the effect is heightened by a
slight j e r k signifying that he is pulling the sword out of the body
(Dullin 1 9 4 6 : 6 0 ) .

Stanislavski evidently had something of the same sort in mind when

he insisted on playing with imaginary objects as a matter of a p p r e n
ticeship and everyday exercise throughout the actor's life (Stani
slavsky 1937: 134-136; 1961:146). An entirely different item in his
training of the actors is also p e r t i n e n t h e r e . Unlike his avant-garde
opponents such as Meierkhold and T a i r o v , he was not interested in
the actor's c a r r y i n g out acrobatics on the stage, yet he introduced a
 404

course n tumbling. His purpose was to develop what he called the

quality of decisiveness in acting. He conceived this quality not just
as a matter of physical deportment and action but as something
permeating the performance in all its aspects. The practice of tumbl
ing was even to help the actor to get rid of the hesitation and ap
prehension which may embarrass his performance when he is nearing
one of its high points (Stanislavsky 1950:39-41). He also introduced a
course in dancing, again not in order to make the actors dance on
the stage but to give their motions 'definiteness' ( i b i d . :41 ).

In a remarkable letter of July 1788, reproduced by A u g u s t i n - T h i e r r y

(1942:21-23), the London dentist Michel Talma gave some practical
advice to his son Franois-Joseph. After listening to connoisseurs who
had seen young Talma on the stage, he pointed out that his son's
playing and delivery were too stiff and stilted and his arms awkward
and unseductive and that, to increase his expressiveness, he should
t r y to achieve nobility of bearing and naturalness in every part of
the body. In his view, Talma's defects were due to the fact that he
did not usually keep his back straight. He did straighten himself up
when he was on the stage, but since this posture was not habitual to
him, his movements became stiff. Without putting it into so many
words, the father implied that the stilted delivery, too, was due to
the bad habit of walking with a rounded back. He recommended that
Talma should get into the habit of standing straight, take fencing
lessons to loosen up his muscles and learn some elements of dancing,
such as easy and graceful walking, good countenance and various
bows and salutations, especially the beautiful movements of the arms
which accompany them. During his directorship of the Weimar Court
Theatre Goethe obliged newly engaged young actors to take lessons in
dancing and fencing in order to achieve flexibility of movement (Flem
ming 1949:76).

The preparation of the f u t u r e Kathakali actors - from the age of

twelve onwards - includes training in the discipline and techniques of
movements inherited from the practice of arms of the mediaeval period,
 405

as well as in the discipline of traditional family life. T h e purpose is

to develop the pupils' stamina, flexibility, discipline, technical com
mand, decorum and manners, physical resilience and determination
(Jones and Jones 1970:11-14; Zarilli 1979).

The same quality of acting is involved in the handicap which plagued

John Gielgud, namely the insufficient command over his legs, which
was due to his habit of walking from the knees instead of from the
hips and of bending his legs while standing s t i l l ; he is probably right
when he blames this on his laziness and dislike of games when he was
a boy. T h e semiotic implications of Gielgud's weak point were b r i l l i a n t
ly g r a s p e d , and no doubt o v e r s t a t e d , by a critic who w r o t e : "Mr.
Gielgud from the waist downwards means absolutely n o t h i n g . He has
the most meaningless legs imaginable" (Gielgud 1939: 50-51 and 8 4 ) .
The critic's observation could have been formulated differently; his
legs do little more than support his t r u n k and c a r r y him from one
spot to another, without translating any intention but to keep an
upright position and get to t h a t other spot. Such a use of the legs
hardly produces signs, since any sign sent by a human being to
other human beings r e f l e c t s , in one way or another, the originator's
intention to convey some meaning; this intention is itself an integral
p a r t of the meaning conveyed.

The problem is still more complicated. In the f i r s t p a r t of Le ct de

Guemantes Marcel Proust analyzes with great lucidity and c r u e l t y the
performance of 'Berma's' (Sarah B e r n h a r d ' s ) fellow-actors in Phdre.
They used their intelligence to invest t h e i r voice with "a caressing
inflection or a calculated ambiguity" h e r e , and t h e i r gesture with "a
tragic breadth or a pleading meekness" there. But their voice was
"exterior to t h e i r declamation," it was "their natural voice with its
material defects or charms, its v u l g a r i t y and e v e r y d a y affectations,"
so that it displayed a cluster of "acoustic or social features unaltered
by the sentiment of the verse" the actors were r e c i t i n g . T h e y o r d e r
ed t h e i r arms and cloaks and robes to be majestic, but between the
shoulder and the elbow the disobedient limbs displayed "a biceps
 406

which knew nothing about the role." They "continued to express the
insignificance of daily life and to bring out the musculature instead of
the Racinian shades of meaning." The drapery they were lifting kept
falling vertically. Their intentions, surrounding their voice and
gesture "like a majestic or delicate f r i n g e , " were obvious to the spec
tator.

Leaving aside all critical assessment, which is not the theoretician's

business, a capital point is involved in Proust's observations. As al
ready mentioned, the intention to convey meaning, which is reflected
in any emission of signs, is itself an integral part of the meaning
conveyed. When it appears separately the sign in fact conveys two
different meanings: its own meaning and the originator's intention.
This need not be a matter of poor acting; depending on the whole
structure of a given form of theatre, it can also be an artistic proce
dure.

2.4. Controlled tempo

The inclusion of such courses as gymnastics, tumbling and dance in

the curriculum of the dramatic school of the Moscow A r t Theatre
aimed at developing yet another actor's s k i l l , namely the ability to act
in a quick rhythm and tempo "which an untrained body cannot
achieve" (Stanislavsky 1950:40), that is, cannot achieve without its
motion becoming indistinct. It will be recalled that one of the reasons
for Stanislavski's own early failure in acting was excessive speed,
incompatible with the speech and motion techniques he then possess
ed. A course of plastic movement was also introduced in the school,
to make the students acquire f l u i d i t y in motion, and in this connec
tion they were taught to carry out different gestures and movements
very slowly - against the metronome set at its lowest tempo - without
any loss of continuity ( i b i d . :64-67). Perceptibility is as difficult to
preserve in slow as in fast acting. And there are special problems in
slow-motion acting, such as is used in the Kabuki stylized slashing or
 407

stabbing actions which represent a character's repeated attempts to

murder an opponent and where e v e r y attack culminates in an elaborate
posture or mie ( B r a n d o n 1978:92; Ernst n . d . : 1 6 3 ) , or in a scene of
Ladislav Fiaika's pantomime Button, called 'A Dream of Love and
Fishes,' where the slow motion serves to conjure up the 'weightless'
state of bodies moving under water (Fialka 1972:46-47) [Fig.3].

F i g . 3 : Slow motion in Ladislav Fialka's B u t t o n . From Ladislav HaiKa,

Knoflk ( P r a g u e 1 9 7 2 ) .

T h e tempo is also a technical problem as f a r as d e l i v e r y is concerned.

Neither the opera singer nor the No actor - who, as mentioned b e
fore, produces his voice in the p h a r y n x - can adopt the speed which
 408

is quite normal for speech in real life. It is even doubtful whether

any actor can speak as fast on the stage as in p r i v a t e . Molire seems
to have had some difficulties in checking his spontaneous valubility,
which tended to impair the inflexions of his voice as well as his ar
ticulation ( S c h e r e r 1966:231). Constant Coquelin, whose d e l i v e r y was
markedly q u i c k , insisted that the actor must accustom himself not to
speak too fast because "volubility leads to gabbling" and he was con
cerned with the need to "remain distinct at the most rapid pace"
4
(Coquelin 1968 : 4 4 - 4 5 ) . T h e actor who, in the tradition of the
Comdie Franaise, delivers a comic speech at breakneck speed, as it
were, displays his v i r t u o s i t y in articulation and this is why he seems
to be speaking so q u i c k l y ; exact measurement would probably show
that his d e l i v e r y is slower than fast speaking in e v e r y d a y life. The
opposition between quick delivery and articulation was fully re
cognized by Heinrich Theodor Rtscher who, in his treatise on acting
f i r s t published in 1841, also stated that v e r s e , especially in t r a g e d y ,
imposes a slower pace than prose because quick d e l i v e r y of a speech
in verse tends to replace rhythmic declamation by the monotony of the
beat (Rtscher 1 9 1 9 3 : 1 3 4 - 1 3 5 ) .

V e r y slow d e l i v e r y is also difficult to combine with distinctness. The

problem here is not voice production and articulation but the main
tenance of the distinct identity of single w o r d s , groups of words,
sentences and verses as units of sense. Incidentally, the same p r o b
lem sometimes arises in quick delivery as well; Talma points out that
in hurried and rapid speech representing the violence of feeling
which t r a n s p o r t s the c h a r a c t e r , the actor must conceal the efforts he
is making to prolong his breath and pay but little respect to colons
and semi-colons and full stops (Talma 1825). Garrick was a master in
the a r t of slow declamation. For example, when he played Hastings in
Nathaniel Rowe's Jane S h o r e , he was reported to have taken two
minutes to deliver a six-line speech; he was also reputed for his long
pauses in the middle of a sentence, d u r i n g which he was apparently
able to hold the audience's attention in the same sort of way as an
arrested movement can (Price 1 9 7 3 : 1 2 , 1 9 ) .
 409

The actor's movements and d e l i v e r y are coordinated in t h e i r tempo.

T h e problems of distinctness arising from either fast or slow tempo by
no means coincide in the two basic elements of acting and the re
spective technical solutions may even clash. For-instance, it is rather
easy to perform quickly the gestures which merely accompany and as
it were punctuate the speech but it is f a r more difficult to speed up
the practical gestures without loss of distinctness.

The effort to slow down delivery can match the slowing down of
movements and gestures only up to a point. Beyond t h a t point it can
only be pursued by means of pauses or by the injection of some
musical principles in the sound s t r u c t u r e of speech. But pauses have
many other functions in acting and are apt to convey a wealth of
meanings which may i n t e r f e r e with the intentions motivating the quest
for slow tempo in any given case; as a r u l e , actors are well aware of
the danger and p a r t i c u l a r l y of the most pernicious of these incidental
meanings, namely the pause being perceived as a result of defective
memory (Talma 1825). The injection of musical principles may turn
declamation into singing and b r i n g about all the inhibitions t h a t beset
opera acting. Even singing may not be slow enough to match the
tempo of physical movement. In the Kathakali the translation of e v e r y
word into g e s t u r e s , movements and the play of the eyes takes so long
that every line is repeated, as many times as necessary, by the
chanters. T h i s , of course, is feasible only because physical movement
and declamation are separate in this form of t h e a t r e , the f i r s t being
carried out by the actors and the second by the singer-narrators
(Scott 1 9 7 2 : 2 3 5 - 2 3 6 ) .

T h e coordinated tempo of e v e r y actor's movements and d e l i v e r y keeps

changing a great deal, mostly without transition or with a more
regular gradation than ever occurs in o r d i n a r y behaviour. T h i s con
stant variation is still another source of d i f f i c u l t i e s , even when it
takes place within the limits of a tempo which is neither v e r y fast nor
very slow, and requires a considerable display of skills in physical
action, d e l i v e r y and t h e i r synchronization.
 410

Controlled tempo contributes to the distinctness of acting in several

ways. Among other t h i n g s , it makes it perceptibly, though not always
strikingly, different from everyday behaviour and adds to its de
cisiveness, definiteness and polish (to use Stanislavski's terms). But
its main contribution lies somewhere else. The many more or less ob
vious difficulties it implies and the skills which the actor uses in
solving them elicit the spectator's motor reactions and, by the same
token, his empathy with the actor. The elicitation of empathy is an
important element of the semiotics of acting in general and the
empathy with the actors - as distinct from empathy with the char
acters - is part of it (Veltrusky 1976).

3. Breaking Down and Building Up

3 . 1 . Speech and physical activity

Mime is probably the most extreme and the simplest example of a gen
eral aspect of acting, namely the breaking down of behaviour and its
building up. In mime human behaviour is broken down into its two
basic components, speech and physical a c t i v i t y , and the f i r s t is elim
inated. This operation tends by itself to highlight the visual element.
But mime consists not only in suppressing speech but also in building
up physical activity into a self-sufficient set of signs. These signs
also convey certain meanings which outside mime are conveyed by
speech. Naturally, mime cannot replace speech (Engel 1785-1786:
letters VIII, IXXX-XXXI; Decroux 1963:135 and 144). But it also
evokes meanings which speech could not convey.

Mime has a certain counterpart in off-stage speeches. The interroga

tion of four characters on the rack in Lope de Vega's Fuenteovejuna,
Act I I I , is represented in this fashion: the off-stage speeches of the
judge and the four victims are intercut with the comments of charac
ters who are seen on the stage. The absence of the physical action
focuses attention on the speeches connected with it and highlights
 411

each victim's final answer to the judge's question who killed the
Commander: that it was the v i l l a g e , Fuenteovejuna.

An e n t i r e l y different way of radically breaking behaviour down into

speech and the visual element and building it up anew characterizes
the puppet t h e a t r e and the shadow t h e a t r e . Here the visual element is
replaced by artificial signs while speech keeps its human quality,
subject of course to the many possible modifications that various
forms of d e l i v e r y e n t a i l . It i s , however, remarkable t h a t the puppet
t h e a t r e apparently resorts more f r e q u e n t l y than the t h e a t r e with live
actors to the use of an artificial voice (which it mostly produces by a
sort of whistle placed in the reciter's mouth) (Pimpaneau 1977a: 1 5 , 5 4 ,
55,78 and 107; 1979:35; Mathur 1964:118; Obraztsov 1 9 7 5 2 : 2 0 ; Soulier
1972:22; Baty and Chavance 1 9 7 2 2 : 3 1 ) .

Behaviour is also broken down into speech and bodily activity in the
many forms of t h e a t r e - ranging from the No through the 15th
century English mummings and disguisings to Nemirovich-Danchenko's
staging of Tolstoy's Resurrection in the Moscow Art Theatre (Vel-
trusky 1976) - in which these two basic components are divided be
tween two different agents: On one hand the reciters, chanters,
n a r r a t o r s , c h o r u s , e t c . , a n d , on the o t h e r , the actors. Even here the
physical performance is often built up into an at least autonomous, if
not self-contained, set of signs. In the Kathakali, as already mention
ed, the t e x t chanted by the narrators is not only enacted by the
actors' dance but also duplicated by their gestural language. T h e use
of such a systematized gestural language does not, however, pre
suppose a division of functions between reciters and actors. The
Kathakali and its language of gesture arose, indeed, much later than
the Kootiyattam which has a very similar gesture language - both
stem from the Vedic 'mudras' ( A u b o y e r 1961) - but does not separate
speech from the visual element.

Yet another way of breaking human behaviour down into the two
basic components can be found in the 17th and 18th c e n t u r y 'Opra
comique en vaudevilles' of the Paris f a i r s , where the texts ('vaude-
 412

villes') written to a known melody were exhibited on huge placards

and the players performed a dumb show while the spectators - p r o b
ably led by some actors in t h e i r midst - sang the words. Osolsob
points out that the 'vaudeville' corresponds to the broadside or
broadsheet ballad (Osolsob 1974:170). Some features of t h e a t r e also
appear in the performance of the broadside ballads themselves but the
manner in which behaviour here is broken down into speech and
visual elements is d i f f e r e n t ( V e l t r u s k y 1941a). Elements of t h e a t r e are
also present in other forms of performance which combine s t o r y - t e l l i n g
with the showing of pictures, for instance in Iran (Rezvani 1962:
1 2 1 - 1 2 2 ) , China and Indonesia (Pimpaneau 1977a:14; 1 9 7 7 b : 6 7 - 6 8 ) .

T h e division between verbal and nonverbal behaviour need not be t o

tal. In the Ramlila of North India the p a n d i t , from a vantage point on
or near the playing area, chants the narrative borrowed from the
Ramayana, including the direct speeches a t t r i b u t e d to the characters
in the t e x t , while the performers simualtaneously enact the narrated
e v e n t s . Whenever the pandit has chanted a direct speech, he pauses
while the appropriate actor repeats its substance in modern Hindi
prose; what the actor says may come close to a literal translation but
it may also be a paraphrase or even a fanciful elaboration. T h e pandit
sometimes also stops when it appears suitable for one of the actors to
speak although t h e r e is no direct speech in the chanted poem (Hein
1972:79-87). In the t y p e or genre of Kabuki that derives from the
Bunraku the actors mime descriptive passages declaimed by the
chanter but they themselves deliver many or all of the dialogue
speeches. A brief speech is somtetimes spoken, in alternate syllables,
by actor and c h a n t e r . T h e chanter may join his voice to the actor's
in sobbing or laughing (Brandon 1976:76-77). In December 1891
Pierre Quillard's La fille aux mains coupes, a play written in a l t e r
nating prose and v e r s e , was produced at the T h t r e d ' A r t in Paris,
on a stage separated from the audience by a gauze screen immediately
behind the footlights. T h e verse was declaimed by actors behind the
screen, the prose explaining the sentiments and gestures and giving
 413

scenic information was delivered by a narrator in f r o n t of the screen

(Dek 1976).

In a subtle sense human behaviour was also broken down into the two
basic components when Garrick and Mrs. Pritchard resorted to a kind
of whisper at the beginning of the scene after the murder in Mac
beth. By damping their voice production the two actors obviously
brought out the play of the eyes and facial muscles, the gestures and
the postures. As a contemporary critic put i t : "Their looks and action
supplied the place of words. You heard what they spoke, but you
learned more from the agitation of mind displayed in their action and
deportment. The poet here gives only an outline to the consumate
actor" (Price 1973:20).

The French tragedy acting of the same period may have constituted
the counterpart of Garrick's method by severely limiting the dynamic
aspect of physical performance and building up declamation into the
main carrier of dramatic action; for a big speech the actor apparently
would freeze in a beautiful pose.

3.2. Delivery

The actor's delivery is the result of speech having been broken down
and built up. The foundations are already laid in the t e x t , that is, in
its semantic structure and its sound qualities.

John Gielgud gives two illuminating and entirely different examples of

how the semantic structure controls the actor's delivery. In Richard
it is only after the King's return from Ireland, almost halfway
through the play, that Shakespeare allows the actor to develop the
character's internal life through exquisite cadenzas and variations.
Yet, though in these later scenes the subtleties of the King's
speeches are capable of endless shades and nuances, the voice per
formance must be confined within the framework of the verse because
too many pauses and striking variations of tempo would hold up the
 414

2
action and so ruin the pattern of the text (Gielgud 1979 :28). The
second example comes from Oscar Wilde's The Importance of Being
Ernest. Although the play requires a leisurely pace, the sense of
dialogue is dissipated and its progress held up unless the actors
shape their delivery in such a way as to sacrifice laughs on certain
witty lines in order that a big laugh may come later. The following
exchange illustrates the point:

JACK: My dear A l g y , you talk exactly as if you were a dentist.

It is very vulgar to talk like a dentist when one isn't a
dentist. It produces a false impression.
ALGERNON: Well, that is exactly what dentists always do.

Gielgud comments: " I f the actor playing Jack allows the audience to
laugh after the words, ' I t produces a false impression,' Algernon's
reply will fall flat and seem redundant. Actors with expert pace and
timing will h u r r y the dialogue, Algernon breaking in quickly with his
line, so that the audience will not laugh until he has spoken it"
( i b i d . :82).

The sound shape of the text results from the multiple selection
operated by the author at all levels: choice of words, the order in
which they follow each other, the semantic and syntactic links be
tween them, the structure of the sentence and the way in which
successive sentences are linked together, the system of versification,
and so on. At all these levels the selection plays down some sound
qualities of language and brings out others. Just one example: the
timbre or 'color' of the voice is played down when intonation, with its
striving for continuous undulation, is brought out and, vice versa,
the continuity of the intonation is disrupted by the frequent and
abrupt changes of the timbre which give the timbre prominence among
the sound qualities (Mukarovsky 1939). Far from being limited to such
general features, the sound shape of a text pertains to every detail:
specific melodic curves and cadences, specific voice colorations,
degrees of loudness, pauses, changes in tempo, etc. Although it
gives the reciter considerable scope for variation and interpretation,
 415

the way in which the sound shape of the text breaks down and builds
up the sound quantities of language is the very foundation of the
actor's delivery (Veltrusky 1941b).

Delivery itself can be separated into the voice performance and the
actual words, and either can be more or less neutralized to bring out
the other. The actors' story (already mentioned) about a tragedian
who provoked enthusiastic applause with a couple of nonsense verses
when he forgot his lines at a culminating point illustrates the neutral
ization of the words. The voice performance is largely neutralized for
the benefit of the words in Samuel Beckett's Play. Here the actors,
enclosed in grey urns from which only their heads protrude and facing
the auditorium throughout the play, are instructed to use toneless
voices except at the rare moments when an expression is indicated by
the playwright.

At the same time, every period or school has its own style of delivery
and nearly every actor his own manner. Both consist in a particular
way of breaking down and building up the sound qualities of lan
guage; therefore they can be at variance with the sound shape of the
text or even clash with i t . It is reported that it was "really comical"
to see Konrad Ekhof play a hero of Corneille because his "prosaic"
delivery contrasted with the pompous poetry of the dialogue (Engel
1785-1786: letter VII). The actors of the Weimar Court Theatre,
under Goethe's direction, spent several years learning to perform
plays written in verse (Flemming 1949:64-67). The history of the
theatre abounds in accounts of dramatists' efforts to make the actors
speak " n a t u r a l l y , " "without affectation," e t c . , which in fact reflect
clashes between the sound shape of the play and the period style or
the individual style of delivery.

In their effect on delivery the tendencies to break down and build up

operate within relatively narrow limits. They cannot result in the
elimination of certain components to bring out others, as they do in
mime or off-stage speeches, nor can they altogether separate single
components from each other as in the puppet theatre, the Kathakali
 416

and so on. Their scope is confined to more or less neutralizing cer

tain sound qualities and subordinating them to others. And even the
degree of this subordination can v a r y , at least to some extent, when
the actor is reluctant to sacrifice the effects he could draw from the
neutralized quality. Some French actors manage to change the timbre
even when delivering the alexandrine of the classic French tragedy.
They seek to reconcile this with the overwhelmingly dominating i n
tonation by changing the timbre only from one verse or one hemistich
to the next, while keeping it steady within each hemistich.

Perhaps the closest that delivery can come to actually eliminating some
sound quality of language is in the use of an artificial voice, as oc
curs in the No, in some forms of folk and puppet theatre, etc. The
existing descriptions of the way artificial voices are used by certain
English mummers and Czech folk performers (Southern 1968:50; Brody
n.d. 25; Bogatyrev 1940:115-129) tend to indicate that articulation,
and therefore the division of speech into vowels and consonants and
syllables, is eliminated; but there also seems to be some fluctuation
between this extreme procedure and a mere b l u r r i n g of articulation
(Bogatyrev 1940:115). The articulation of certain sounds is strongly
modified but by no means eliminated in the No (Tamba 1974:44-49),
which of course does not preclude the suppression of some other
sound quality of speech. To my knowledge these phenomena have not
yet been submitted to full linguistic analysis.

3.3. Physical performance

The tendencies to break down and build up can assert themselves

much more freely with respect to the physical performance. Some part
of the body is quite frequently not only neutralized or immobilized
but also partly or completely eliminated from the performance.

In an Elizabethan play, one of the actors performs with his right arm
in a sling. To imagine the probable impact of this on his acting, the
rich gesticulation of the Elizabethan actors must be borne in mind.
 417

The spectators' attention is called to this peculiarity in advance.

When the character he plays is asked to recount something he starts
his speech with the words: "Bear with my rudeness in telling it t h e n ,
for alas, you see, I can but act with the left hand; this is my ges-
2
ture now" (Bradbrook 1960 :23). Most likely the motions of the left
arm and hand, of the t r u n k and the head, and maybe of the whole
body, were built up into an extraordinary exhibition during the en
suing speech.

In a Topeng Pajegan (one-man) performance recorded in Bali, Jelantik

Goes to Blambangan, when the actor represents the King of Blam-
bangan he remains seated while he reaches towards the audience and
makes his long fingernails tremble; he addresses a threatening speech
to the spectators (in which they are treated as if they, too, were
dramatic characters) and as he speaks his t r u n k and arms move to
frenzied music (Emigh 1979: annex). In the second part of the Kathak
(one-man) performance of North India the actor sits cross-legged on
the floor while producing a lengthy song of a broadly narrative
nature, illustrating it by means of a kind of gesture language which
combines mimetic, metonymicai and strictly lexicalized gestures. These
gestures do not duplicate the text as in the Kathakali or the Kooti-
yattam, they merely translate many of the words and phrases (Hein
1972:36-46). The actor's sitting position during this second part of
the performance is the more remarkable since the f i r s t part consists
in dance relying mainly on leg, arm and hand movements, sparsely i n
tercut with mimetic elements ( i b i d . :35). In a Brodway comedy, The
Man Who Came to Dinner by George S. Kaplan and Moss Hart, the
f i r s t lead remains seated throughout, exhibiting his skills in delivery,
facial play, gestures, movements of the head and the t r u n k and pos
tures from the hips up.

In the Ordo representacionis Ade, the oldest of the extant medieval

plays written in a vernacular language, the two actors representing
Adam and Eve play the long scenes of the temptation, fall and judge
ment behind the curtains and tapestries which surround the paradise
and hide their bodies up to the shoulders. This is an extreme mani-
 418

testation of the play's general tendency to restrain the actors' motions

accompanying the dialogue so as not to distract attention from the
subtle and elusive meanings conjured up by the dialogue itself.

In Samuel Beckett's Endgame one actor remains seated in an armchair

on castors, impersonating a blind and paralyzed man who cannot
stand, another represents a man unable to sit down, and two others
represent people without legs in ashbins. In his Happy Days the
actress is buried from the waist down in Act I and up to the neck in
Act I I , during which just her eyes and facial muscles can move,
while the actor is hidden for most of the time by the mound in which
she is b u r i e d , so that just small fragments of his body, such as the
back of his bald head, an arm or a hand briefly come into view from
time to time. At one point the back of his head is framed by an u n
folded newspaper which the represented character is meant to be
reading but the hands holding the paper and t u r n i n g the pages re
main hidden. Most of the physical activities attributed to the male
character are imaginary, evoked through the actress's speeches. It is
only towards the end that the actor appears in full view, crawling on
ail f o u r s .

Since the head, the face and the eyes assume a tremendous impor
tance in every person's behaviour and in all sorts of reactions ( r e
cognition, interest, puzzlement, understanding, attraction, repulsion,
e t c . ) a person arouses in others, the twin tendencies to break down
and build up often focus on the head and its relation to the rest of
the body.

In the t h i r d tableau of the Bread and Puppet performance Joan of Arc

(1977) an actress whose whole body and head are clothed in white is
on her hands and knees washing the floor with a cloth she rinses in
a t u b . The banal movement of her body strikes the spectator by its
extraordinary beauty. This is due to the fact that the head and face,
clothed in the same way as the rest of the body, do not attract at
tention as much as they otherwise would; they are neutralized in the
sense that the face is hidden and the head perceived just as one of
 419

the parts of the body, like the arms, the t r u n k , the legs, etc. The
ensuing shift of the spectator's interest reveals the beauty of a move
ment he has seen so many times without paying any attention to i t .

In Beckett's Play, as already mentioned, only the actors' immobile

heads protrude from the urns in which their bodies are enclosed.
Moreover, the urns are so small in proportion to the heads - they are
only one yard high - that the actors must either stand in a trap or
kneel throughout the performance (in which case the urns are open at
the back). Brian Clark's Whose Life Is It Anyway? features a hero
who is totally paralyzed, except for the head and neck, and lies on a
hospital bed throughout the performance; it is, however, to be noted
that when the play was produced at the Savoy Theatre of London the
bed was turned from time to time to exhibit the actor from various
angles and the upper part of the bed was sometimes lifted to bring
him for a while into a half-sitting position.

In the TSE group's production of Peines de coeur d'une chatte anglaise

(a play drawn by Genevive Serreau from Balzac's short story) at the
Theatre Montparnasse in 1978, the actors wore sculptural animal
heads, created by Rostislav Doboujinski, which were rather big in
proportion to their bodies. Under the impact of this single feature
their behaviour was broken down and built up in several different
ways. The bodies, especially the limbs, looked somewhat diminutive
and so did the gestures and movements, which endowed them with a
constant connotation of animal bodies and motions, even where the
actors' play comprised no element of miming the behaviour of the
animals they enacted. The movements and positions of the head were
emphasized by its size and even more by the elimination of the play
of the eyes and facial muscles. So the evil thoughts of the fox - a
seducer clad in an officer's uniform - when he observed the young
and beautiful female cat were forcefully signified by a slight inclina
tion of the head to the left shoulder while the actor's left hand
stroked imaginary whiskers; the normal inclined position and rhythmic
motion of a viola player's head looked intensely affectionate when the
player wore a dog's head with floppy ears.
 420

When Edith Evans played Arkadina in Theodore Komisarjevsky's pro

duction of Chekhov's Seagull at the New Theatre in London (1936),
she used the position of her head to convey meanings contrasting
with those evoked by all the rest of her physical appearance and
a c t i v i t y : "On her f i r s t entrance she was all smiles and graciousness,
but one could see from the angle of her head, as she sat with her
back to the audience watching Konstantin's play, that underneath all
the sweetness she was a selfish woman in a very bad temper" (Giel-
gud 1939:294).

Zeami, the great 15th century N actor and playwright, points out
that the actor playing a female part must not keep his neck stiff
(Zeami 1960:71). I am indebted to Sir Ernst Gombrich for calling my
attention to the fact that the capital importance of this small detail of
behaviour is likely to be connected with the Japanese female hair
style. It is interesting that the same feature is also used in the Bun-
r a k u . The head of a male puppet is fitted closely to its neck so as to
be perfectly erect. The head of a female puppet is fitted more loosely
and protrudes somewhat f o r w a r d ; as a result the quality of movement
is different (Scott 1973 2 :55).

In everyday behaviour the head, the face, the eyes, the brows, the
mouth, e t c . , form a single whole. In acting this whole is often broken
down in order to bring out one of its components. The extreme case
is Beckett's Not I, where only the actress's mouth is visible; when
the play was performed at the Thtre d'Orsay in Paris, this was the
only visual sign in the entire performance because the figure of the
Auditor was eliminated.

In the Kathakali the face is immobilized by the heavy layers of sculp

tural make-up, so that the play with the eyes is separated from the
play of the facial musles with which it is to a large extent organically
connected in human behaviour. At the same time the eyes are empha
sized as much as possible. Actors put in their eyes vegetable seeds
which inflame the whites so as to make them pink for heroes and
heroines in love, ruby red for demons, etc. (Jones and Jones 1970:
 421

36). The paramount importance of the eyes and their play d i s t i n

guishes the Kathakali from one of the older forms of South Indian
theatre from which it seems to have originated, the Kresnattam,
where the actors wear masks (Pimpaneau 1979:6). In a less extreme
form, the procedure of neutralizing the facial play and emphasizing
the eyes appears in many kinds of theatre and, on the other hand,
actors often use some sort of putty to sculpture certain parts of the
face (the nose, the chin, the cheeks, the brow, etc.) and this im
mobilizes some of their facial muscles, though not all as in the
Kathakali.

But the relationship between the make-up and the facial play is a
broader issue than the techniques used in either one of them. In the
aragoto style of acting in the Kabuki theatre the make-up often con
sists of bold lines in r e d , blue, black or grey which follow the mus
culature of the face and thus bring out every expression and facial
play (Brandon 1978:69). By contrast, when the classic Chinese
theatre uses make-up - which is by no means the case of all the stage
figures - it relies on a highly conventionalized system of colour sym
bolism and the colours are often distributed according to a division of
the face which corresponds only remotely to its natural division into
the forehead and the cheeks, because it actually follows the lines of a
shape similar to the letter Y (the chin, usually covered by a beard,
seems to be indeterminate as to meaning). The space which each
colour covers within this pattern symbolizes the share of the qualities
it signifies in the whole mentality and attitude of the represented
character. Moreover, the general pattern set by the letter Y may be
further complicated by the addition of other geometrical elements.
Thus the character of an old man is frequently signified by horizontal
eyebrows running the whole way to the ears; for a clown a coloured
upside-down triangle is sometimes painted just above the nose. Yet,
according to a plausible hypothesis, this whole make-up system,
which negates the musculature, was taken over from the ancient
warrior masks and the symbols were painted directly on the actor's
face in order to enable him to use his facial muscles. Although the
 422

make-up disregards the physiognomy, facial play is indeed very im

portant in the Chinese theatre and subject to the same degree of
'lexicalization' as the gestures and other movements (Brusak 1939).

The relationship between the mask and facial play is even more com
plicated. It is true that the mask conceals the play of the actor's
facial muscles. But it can provide the stage figure the actor creates
with a distinct, even s t r i k i n g , physiognomy which contributes a great
deal to the sense of that f i g u r e .

Moreover, though it hides the play of the actor's own facial muscles,
the mask need not deprive the stage figure of its variable facial com
ponents. The masks of the No, for instance, are sculptured in such a
way as to acquire many different expressions depending on the angle
of reflexion of the light. Thus, a slight change in the angle of ex
posure of the young woman's mask to the light will change a sweet,
somewhat ambiguous smile into an expression of deep melancholy. The
actor keeps modifying the position of his head to produce a sequence
of facial expressions corresponding to the unfolding of the text (Sief-
f e r t 1960:22). Similarly, the masks used in the Topeng take on dif
ferent expressions when viewed from different angles. Before choosing
a mask, the actor holds it in his hand and turns it in different direc
tions and plays with the movement at varying speeds to find out
whether the mask 'lives' and how it 'wants to move;' he discards the
masks that have no life in them (Emigh 1979). An American mime who
went to Bali to learn the Topeng bought several beautiful masks on
arrival but when he reached the stage in his training where he could
start using masks he discovered that these, which had been carved
for tourist shops and looked good on the wall, were unsuitable for
the performance because their expression did not vary in movement
(Jenkins 1979).

When the memorable Christmais pantomime Harlequin Amulet was

staged at D r u r y Lane in December 1800, Joseph Grimaldi in the role
of Punch wore a long-nosed mask, "heavy from its machinery of
springs to produce grimaces," as he himself later described it ( F i n d -
later 1978 2 :88).
 423

Breaking down the physical activity does not consist only in neutra
lizing, immobilizing or emiminating from the performance some part of
the body, it also affects the way in which every pose or motion, even
the simplest one, is made. One of the great concerns of the Moscow
A r t Theatre dramatic school was to teach the students to break down
behaviour and build it up in both respects. Now a student was
blamed for "indulging in naturalism for its own sake," now another
was praised for basing a performance on carefully selected elements
taken from real life, for taking nothing wholesale or taking just what
was necessary, no more, no less, and for having a sense of propor
tion (Stanislavsky 1937:159-161). Stanislavski's insistence that the
muscles must be relaxed and only those must be used which are ab
solutely necessary for the motion carried out at any given moment
( i b i d . : 95-110) is also pertinent to the breaking down and building
up of behaviour.

The arguments put forward by Stanislavski to explain why the actor

must learn to walk by f u l l y using at every point of his gait the
muscles it needs and relaxing the others are particularly revealing in
this connection. He points out, as instructors in athletics do, that in
everyday life most people walk incorrectly. On the stage the actor
must walk according to the laws of nature and the anatomy of the
human body. Actors who have not corrected their bad habits in walk
ing by appropriate exercises resort to all sorts of stratagems to con
ceal this shortcoming. They learn to walk in some special way which
is unnatural as well as picturesque. This kind of theatrical, stagey
walk is not to be confused with a true stage walk based on natural
laws (Stanislavsky 1950:50). This is a devastating criticism of actors'
attempts to build up behaviour without breaking it down. Yet in some
theatrical structures it is apparently through training in the con
ventionalized motions that the actor learns to break down behaviour;
suffice it to recall the Topeng, where the training consists in learn
ing the different motions by heart. So the gist of Stanislavski's
argument really is that the tendency to build up is inseparable from
the tendency to break down.
 424

Stanislavski's contention that the actor must walk naturally on the

stage (which is different from being able to walk n a t u r a l l y ) , and the
implied condemnation of artificiality, can be left aside. They stem
from his own artistic convictions more than from his insight into the
nature of acting in general. In fact, highly artificial signs based on a
strong convention can only develop in acting when behaviour has
been thoroughly broken down. The Kabuki actors in Wait a Moment,
who use make-up on their arms, chests and legs to emphasize the
musculature of the whole body (Brandon 1978:69), could not afford to
do this if their movements were marked by any bad habits; the actor
in the same play who wears a costume three times the bulk of a
normal costume and handles a sword eight feet long ( i b i d . ) [Fig.4]
- the Kabuki costume sometimes weighs as much as f i f t y or sixty
pounds (Ernst n.d.:107) - must be in perfect control of his body and
movements. Jospeh Grimaldi's outstanding athletic abilities explain his
success in Harlequin Amulet where, in addition to the heavy mask
described above, he wore a b i g , heavy hump on both chest and back,
2
a high sugar-loaf hat and heavy wooden shoes (Findlater 1978 :88).
The lexicalization whereby the components of acting have acquired in
the classic Chinese theatre various meanings which are only remotely
related to those they bear in real life manifestly presupposes that
very simple motions will be carried out and combined with great pre
cision.

3.4. Sequence

Sequential combination is also subject to the process of breaking down

and building up. In the Kabuki, there is a general tendency, though
by no means a general rule, for the actors to produce speeches and
motions in alternation rather than simultaneously (Brandon 1978:85).
This can also be found in some forms of medieval European theatre.
In a much looser way, the same tendency sometimes manifests itself in
the links between the dumb show and the immediately following
 425

Fig.4: Matsumoto Koshiro VIII as Kamakura Gongoro in Wait a' Moment.

 426

speeches in the Elizabethan theatre. So in John Marston's Antonio's

Revenge the dumb show opening Act II leads up to Piero's speech.
The dumb show, a funeral procession, culminates when the son and
wife of the dead man "wet their handkerchers with their teares, kisse
them, and lay them on the hearse, kneeling." Then all but Piero go
out and Piero bursts out into a speech of abuse against the dead man
und reveals his true face as a murderer (Mehl 1965:126-127).

This tendency can also affect the structure of a single action. Thus,
Talma praised an "artifice" whereby the actor can give the impression
that the character is speaking extremely fast: to make a quick mute
action - a gesture, an attitude, a look - precede the words. "This
display adds greatly to the expression, as it discovers a mind so
profoundly imbued t h a t , impatient to manifest itself, it has chosen the
more rapid signs. These artifices contribute to what is rightly called
byplay, a most essential part of the theatrical a r t , and most difficult
to acquire, retain and regulate well" (Talma 1825). It is interesting
that exactly the same method, though not intended to create the same
effect, was recommended to Talma at the very beginning of his career
when, in the letter of July 1780, his father pointed out that Garrick
had often used byplay to introduce a speech: "the reply which he
was to give was announced by his byplay and the natural movement
of his body" ( A u g u s t i n - T h i e r r y 1942: 22).

Stanislavski experimented a great deal with the sequential combination

of whole actions. No doubt under Nemirovich-Danchenko's influence,
he took as a starting point the psychology of action, namely the idea
that the course of every action is determined by a great many con
scious and unconscious objectives, both physical and psychological
(Stanislavsky 1961:64). Later, without giving up these objectives, he
also developed the more technical conception that a whole action is
made up of small physical actions which can be isolated and con
structed one by one and only then combined into a coherent sequence
(Stanislavsky 1937:140-141). But already at an early stage, long be
fore this late discovery, he grasped the basic ways in which the
process of breaking down and building up affects the sequence.
 427

Firstly, an action which is a whole is separated into distinct con

secutive objectives. Secondly, the execution of every single action
corresponding to a single objective is deautomatized (this is where the
concept of small physical actions was to come in later). T h i r d l y , the
objectives are bound into a sequence by means of consecutiveness,
gradualness, logic of feeling and such like, which do not always link
the elements of an action in real life. Fourthly, single objectives com
bine not only into an action as a whole but also into intermediary
units governed by broader objectives which in their t u r n combine into
still larger, yet distinct, units and so on until the action of the whole
play is constructed (Stanislavsky 1961:54-56 and 61-65). Although it
is constructed out of single successive units, the sequence as a whole
has its own unity (Stanislavsky 1937:142-144). That is so because the
process of building up the sequence, too, has its own specific proce
dures (ibid.:252-257).

Stanislavski of course never gave up his narrow idea that the unity
of the sequence stems ultimately from the psychology of the re
presented character and situation; he was an a r t i s t , not a theoret
ician. But in other forms of theatre the procedures by which the
sequence is constructed are to various degrees conventionalized. In
the Kabuki, for instance, the argument between standing opponents is
represented by the actors or groups gradually edging towards each
other, step by step; these steps represent the growing heat of the
argument. When this procedure is needed in a play which also re
quires the f u l l - f r o n t acting of seated actors facing the audience, the
procedures are intercut. So during the interrogation scene in The
Subscription List the two actors glare at, and move toward, one an
other, then t u r n f r o n t to deliver the next lines and go on alternating
the two procedures in this way until they are close together in the
center (Brandon 1978:98-101).
 428

4. Consistency

4 . 1 . General consistency of human behaviour

During the initial stages of his t r a i n i n g , when he learns the move

ments one by one without wearing the mask, the future Topeng actor
is not allowed grimace while t r y i n g to make his feet, arms and body
work together in excruciatingly unfamiliar ways. The reason is that
at the later stages, when the face is hidden behind the mask, it must
correspond to the character represented and the mood expressed,
because otherwise the body would move wrongly (Emigh 1979). Human
behaviour is always consistent in one way or another and the modifi
cation of any one of its components, even if it remains hidden like
the Topeng actor's face, entails alterations in ail the rest. This
applies not only to the various carriers of physical activities but to
human behaviour in its entirety. The idea implied in the advice Talma
received from his father, that by correcting his bearing in everyday
life and by physical exercise he could improve his delivery, too, is
extremely important in this respect. So is Stanislavski's conviction
that courses in tumbling can enhance the decisiveness of acting in all
its aspects.

Pioneering studies in this field were undertaken by Eduard Sievers

and his school under the label Schallanalyse, especially with respect
to the links between the sound shape of a t e x t , the delivery and the
manner of bodily, manual and facial movements. Sievers reached the
conclusion that the mode of delivery and the physical bearing are
psychologically and physiologically tied together into an inextricable
complex (Sievers 1924). The importance of these findings for the
study of acting, the structure and interdependence of its components,
and the links between the t e x t , the delivery and the physical per
formance is self-evident. He also defined basic kinesthetic types and
pointed out that in recitation and music the performance is beset by
inhibitions if the author and the performer belong to entirely opposed
types ( i b i d . ) . If f u r t h e r developed, this could help to explain the
 429

difficulties an actor sometimes encounters in t r y i n g to reconcile his

personal manner with the requirements of a t e x t , especially its i n
herent sound shape. Some of the idiosyncracies of an actor are per
haps rooted more deeply in himself than in the conventions of the
period or in his technical routine.

The constraints arising from the psycho-physiological links between

text, delivery and motion, and maybe from the opposition between
kinesthetic types, can be loosened through vocal and physical t r a i n
i n g , even to a point where the actor can intentionally create certain
tensions and contradictions between the text and his own delivery,
between his delivery and physical deportment, between his gestures
and the movements of the rest of the body, and so on. Nonetheless,
these constraints cannot be altogether eliminated.

Actors and men of the theatre have a pragmatic knowledge of the

phenomena explored by Sievers. The preface to The Fairy Queen, an
adaptation of Shakespeare's Midsummer Night's Dream published in
1692, compares tragedy to opera and states that a player may speak
out of tune just as a singer may sing out of tune (Price 1973:14).
When the actors of the Weimar Court Theatre strove under Goethe's
direction to overcome the "prosaic" delivery of the previous genera
tion and learn to perform a play in verse, their effort was centered
on, but not limited t o , declamation: they had also to find the cor
responding "gait and posture" (Goethe 1802). Firmin Gemier, when he
could not bring an actor to render some sentiment, used to put him
in different attitudes until the desired effect was reached (Dullin
1946:31).

Gielgud considers that the actor has to adapt his means of presenta
tion according to the demands and quality of the text on which he
has to work, and that the t e x t , whether it is in Shakespeare's lan
guage or the most colloquial modern speech, has its own sound shape
('pattern') which the actor must find and which can, as it were,
carry his whole performance (Gielgud 1972 : 4 - 5 ) . Richard II allows
the actor to indulge himself, "luxuriating in the language he has to
 430

speak, and attitudinizing in consciously graceful poses," but the

poetic intricacies of the part and its musical intention also require a
completely lucid method of "vocal and plastic interpretation" (ibid.:
29-30). In Shakespeare's comedies the text determines also such
things as the physical distance between actors, so "the director
should experiment continually to make the best possible use of it"
( i b i d . :25). Gielgud himself was originally attracted by costume plays
but after his Shakespeare seasons at the Old Vic he began to realize
how immensely skilled an actor must be in order to "speak Elizabethan
verse or prose and to wear costumes with conviction and authority"
(ibid.:3-4).

The sound shape of the text is often so compelling that the actor who
gives himself over to it completely in the early stages of the prepara
tion of the role may later be inhibited when t r y i n g to add gestures,
facial play and movements (Dullin 1946:90-91). The converse is
equally t r u e . The actor who develops his bodily performance disre
garding the sound shape of his lines is beset by inhibitions in his
delivery, forgetting words, stammering, etc. Stanislavski, whose poor
2
memory for words was long proverbial (Nemirovitch-Dantchenko 1968 :
86), is an outstanding example of the second k i n d ; he was so i n
sensitive to the language of the play that in the early rehearsals of
Othello by his students he took the text away from them and forced
them to make up their own speeches (Stanislavsky 1961:139-141).

4.2. Specific consistency of acting

What is involved here is not merely the consistency of human be

haviour in general but the specific consistency of acting as affected
by the shaping of a crucial component. This is highlighted by the i n
hibitions which often interfere with the physical performance of opera
actors. In his youth Stanislavski noticed that the rhythm of their
motions did not correspond to the rhythm of the music, that indeed
2
their motions often had no rhythm whatsoever (Stanislavsky 1956 :
 431

134). This is due to the intimate connection between speech on the

one hand and, on the other, facial play, gestures, postures and
movements (Mukarovsky 1940). When speech is replaced by singing,
the whole tends to disintegrate; the type of motion that corresponds
to music is not the everyday behaviour from which opera acting de
rives but dance. However, the inhibitions that have afflicted opera
acting for some generations are not inherent in opera. They are
rather due to the fact that the conventions governing the actors'
physical performance, despite their frequent drastic changes during
the last hundred years or so, have moved far away from those which
prevailed in a more remote past. Witness Goethe's adoption, less than
two centuries ago, of some of the traditional procedures of opera
acting as a means to reform acting in spoken drama (Flemming 1949:
75-76).

The shaping of many other components is involved in the specific con

sistency of acting. In an English folk performance, the Horn Dance of
Abbots Bromley, the actors have a bizarre head-dress of animal horns
but instead of wearing it they carry it in their hands (Brody n . d . : 2 6 )
[Fig.5]. This simple device distributes the functions of so important
a part of the body as the head between two different components. As
a result, all the relations between the components of the body and of
behaviour are drastically changed. The effect of Doboujinsky's rather
large animal heads in the TSE production of Les peines de coeur
d'une chatte anglaise has already been mentioned: the actor's bodies
and motions are perceived as diminutive and, indirectly, as sharing
some quality with animal bodies and movements. The impact of mask
and costume may go much f u r t h e r . During one phase of the theatrical
ly performed worship of the spirits in South Kanara, in India (Ashton
1979), the actor wears a head-dress which about doubles his height,
at another stage he wears an enormous head-dress combined with a
big horizontal waist decoration which makes his t r u n k appear slight
[Fig.6], in a striking departure from the proportions of the human
body which has been aptly described as "consisting of a heavy t r u n k
and the much slighter appendices of the arms, the legs, and the
 432

Fig.5: A horn dancer of Abbots Bromley. Photograph by Reece Win

ston .

head" (Arnheim 1948). All the relations between what the different
parts of the body respectively perform are thoroughly changed by the
same token. In the Topeng, the entire movement of the actor's body
is adjusted to the requirements of the mask's varying expressions o r ,
to repeat the Topeng actors' own phrase, to the way the mask "wants
to move" (Emigh 1979).

Because of the distinctness of acting, its consistency is more rigorous

than that of ordinary behaviour. In everyday life, a slip of the
tongue, an occasional stammer, an 'uh' or 'er', a moment of hesitation
about the right word to use, a clumsy gesture, a wrong movement
 433

Fig.6: T h e actor in the theatrical worship of the spirits in South

Kanara. Courtesy of Martha Bush Ashton and T h e Drama
Review.
 434

corrected in the midst of its course, e t c . , do not undermine consist

ency because they are integral parts of a person's behaviour. But
such accidents ruin the consistency of acting. And when an actor has
to play any one of them as a t r a i t of the represented character's
behaviour, his performance is fraught with dangers; the audience may
mistake it for his own defect. Stanislavski himself pointed out that
when the actor's intention is to show a character's defect he should
be able to "display it in just the proper degree" (Stanislavsky 1950:
38).

The controlled tempo of acting contributes a great deal to the rigour

of its consistency. Besides imposing requirements, which are often
difficult to meet, on the actor at any given moment, it is also a
powerful factor of the consistency of the performance as a
whole. Rtscher distinguishes three "moments" of the tempo of the
delivery, which of course pertain to the physical activities as well:
the tempo as the "general" measure of the dramatic work's movement
in time (Gielgud's observation that The Importance of Being Ernest
requires a leisurely pace may be recalled here); the "particular"
tempo which is given within the framework of the "general" tempo to
the separate characters; the tempo as a force which "individualizes"
the characters' moods and sensations (Rtscher 1919 :133). This is
still an oversimplification. The 'general' tempo of a performance is a
complex result of the 'particular' tempos of the different actors and
the 'individual' tempos of single instants, while each actor's 'particular
tempo is a complex result of the 'individual' tempos he adopts in single
instants. If the term did not imply a more definite and binding or
ganization, it could be said that controlled tempo results in a sort of
rhythm.

Every actor's speeches and motions are intermittent, since the actors
keep relaying each other in the course of the action. Hence each of
his interventions contributes to the 'particular' tempo which d i s t i n
guishes him from his fellow-actors and to the 'individual' tempo of the
instant, which he shares with them. In other words, the tempo of any
 435

of his interventions somehow compares to the tempo of his own pre

vious and subsequent interventions on the one hand and to the tempo
of the other actors' interventions which immediately precede and
follow i t , on the other. This is what makes every speech and motion
extremely sensitive with respect to tempo. The normative idea that
every single situation requires a definite tempo from which the actors
can depart only by mistake is manifestly wrong. But the consistency
of the actor's performance is adversely affected when his successive
actions do not combine into a coherent tempo, and even more when
his and his fellow-actors' successive actions do not yield a general
tempo of the entire performance.

The specific features that distinguish the consistency of acting make

it difficult for the theory of theatre to draw on the studies of facial
expressions, gestures and movements in real life. This problem does
not arise with respect to the linguistic components of acting. Much as
these may deviate from its other uses, they are still governed by the
language system. Bodily behaviour, unlike language, does not con
stitute a coherent semiotic system.

4.3. Inconsistencies and the 'beholder's share'

The consistency of acting, even though it is relatively rigorous in

comparison with that of ordinary behaviour, is by no means complete
and all-pervasive. Leaving aside Constant Coquelin's falling asleep
and snoring on the stage, the actor has many practical acts to carry
out during the performance, such as picking up an object, sitting
down and getting u p , eating, h i t t i n g , and so on. He often 'plays'
these acts, coupling a sign with the act concerned (Veltrusky 1976).
It is quite logical that Stanislavski, who had a tendency to 'burden'
the actor with as many practical acts as possible, insisted so much on
the play with imaginary objects as a method of training and daily
exercise: the more practical acts the actor has to perform, the more
important is his ability to couple them with signs, so as not to dis
r u p t the consistency of his acting altogether. Anyway, this rarely
 436

dispenses him from actually carrying out such acts. Various methods
of relieving him from this necessity do exist but they are fairly rare.
An interesting example can be found in the Kabuki: a large wooden
box for which the characters struggle in The Tea Box is held by a
stage assistant from beneath so that it is weightless for the actors
and does not interfere with their dance movement (Ernst n . d . : 1 0 9 ) .

Another potential source of inconsistencies is the fact that in some

measure the actor creates his work afresh, before the eyes of the
audience, at every performance. It may vary considerably or very
little from one night to the next. What really counts is that each time
he finds himself in what Michel Bouquet has felicitously described as
"a state of s u r p r i s e ; " to give form to any surprise which actually
arises is a matter of a split second, so that the actor's ability to do
so depends on the solidity of his technique (Bouquet 1979). And
whatever discovery he achieves in this way "must always be con
trolled and related, at each separate performance, to the acting of
2
the other players" (Gielgud 1979 : 9 ) . Any actor can be let down by
his technique in this effort to give form to a sudden surprise. In
addition, every actor's variations both stimulate his fellow-actors and
tax the consistency of their own performance.

Whenever inconsistencies in acting are discussed there is a danger of

misunderstanding. According to a story which seems to have been
quite popular among the men of the theatre at the time, Garrick com
plimented a French actor on the way he played a d r u n k a r d , with just
one reservation - he allowed his left foot to remain sober (Engel
1785-1786: letter X X I V ) . Whether true or not, the story reflects the
common misconception that every single component of acting conveys a
distinct meaning by itself. In fact it is the performance as a whole
that conveys a meaning, or has a sense, while the various components
are meaningful inasmuch as they all contribute, each in its own way,
to the integral sense of the performance. In Chinese classic theatre,
for instance, the actor's movements are in no way modified when he
represents a drunk person; the character's drunkenness is signified
by music (Brusak 1939).
 437

Real inconsistencies arise in acting to the extent that certain elements

remain beyond the artist's intention. Their integration in the struc
ture is a task the performance imposes on the audience. That is what
4
Gombrich calls the beholder's share (Gombrich 1972 :154-244). John
Gielgud's "meaningless legs" did not prevent him from being a great
actor. The intentionality of every artistic structure stems in the last
resort-from the perceiver's, rather than from the originator's, inten
tion and the oscillation between intentionality and unintentionality is
one of the essential features of art (Mukarovsky 1943).

References

Arnheim, Rudolf 1948

'The Holes of Henry Moore: On the Function of Space in Sculp
t u r e ' , Towards a Psychology of A r t (Berkeley and Los Angeles:
University of California Press, 1966)
Ashton, Martha Bush 1979
'Spirit Cult Festivals in South Kamara', The drama Review 23, 2
Auboyer, Jeannine 1961
'Le thtre classique de I'lnde', ( i n ) J . Jacquot ( e d . ) 1961
A u g u s t i n - T h i e r r y , A. 1942
Le tragdien de Napolon. Francois-Joseph Talma (Paris: Albin
Michel)
Bake, A . A . 1961
'Quelques elements religieux dans le thtre indien', ( i n ) J . Jac
quot ( e d . ) 1961
2
Bartolomeusz, Dennis 1978
Macbeth and the Players (Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press)
2
Baty, Gaston and Ren Chavance 1972
Histoire des marionettes (Paris: Presses Universitaires de
France)
Bogatyrev, Petr 1940
Lidov divadlo cesk a slovensk (Czech and Slovak Folk Theatre)
(Prague: Fr. Borovy)
Bouquet, Michel 1979
'Michel Bouquet joue Pozzo: une dfinition de I'acteur' (Interview
by Alain Franois), Beckett, program of En attendant Godot at
the Bouffes du Nord, Paris (Louvain-la-Neuve: Atelier thtral
de Louvain-la-Neuve)
 438

Bradbrook, M.C. 19602

Themes and Conventions of Elizabethan Tragedy (Cambridge: Cam
bridge University Press)
--- 19792
The Rise of the Common Player (Cambridge: Cambridge Univer
sity Press)
Brandon, James R. 1978
'Form in Kabuki A c t i n g ' , ( i n ) James R. Brandon, William P. Malm
and Donald H. Shively, Studies in Kabuki (The University Press
of Hawaii)
Braun, Edward ( e d . ) 1969
Meyerkhold on the Theater (London: Methuen)
Brody, Alan n . d .
The English Mummers and Their Plays (London: Routledge and
Kegan Paul)
Bruk, Karel 1939
'Signs in the Chinese Theater', ( i n ) L. Matejka and I.R. Titunik
(eds.) 1976
Bhler, Karl 1933
Ausdruckstheorie (Jena: Gustav Fischer)
4
Coquelin, Constant 1968
The A r t of the Actor (London: George Allen and Unwin)
Dek, Frantisek 1976
'Symbolist Staging at the Thtre d ' A r t ' , The Drama Review,
March 1976
Decroux, Etienne 1963
Paroles sur le mime (Paris: Gallimard)
Dullin, Charles 1946
Souvenirs et notes de travail d'un acteur (Paris: Odette Lieutier)
Emigh, John 1979
'Playing with the Past: Visitation and Illusion in the Mask Thea
ter of Bali', The Drama Review 23, 2
Engel, Johann Jacob 1785-86
Ideen zu einer Mimik, I, II ( B e r l i n : Mylius)
2
Ernst, Earle n . d .
The Kabuki Theater (New York: Grove Press)
Fialka, Ladislav 1972
Knoflk (Button) (Prague: Divadeln stav)
Findlater, Richard 19782
Joe Grimaldi. His Life and A r t (Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press)
Flemming, Willi 1926
'Der barocke Schauspieler', ( i n ) Ewald Geissler ( e d . ) , Der Schau
spieler ( B e r l i n : Bhnenvolksbundverlag)
 439

Flemming, Willi 1949

Goethes Gestaltung des klassischen Theaters (Kln: Hermann Scharf-
stein)
Gielgud, John 1939
Early Stages (London: Macmillan)
--- 19792
Stage Directions (London: Heinemann)
Goethe, Johann Wolfgang 1802
'Weimarisches Hoftheater', Smtliche Werke 31 (Mnchen: d t v )
Gombrich, E.H. 19724
A r t and Illusion (London: Phaidon Press)
Hein, Norvin 1972
The Miracle Plays of Mathura (New Haven and London: Yale Uni
versity Press)
Jacquot, Jean ( e d . ) 1961
Les thtres d'Asie (Paris: C.N.R.S.)
Jakobson, Roman and Linda Waugh 1979
The Sound Shape of Language (Bloomington and London: Indiana
University Press)
Jenkins, Ron 1979
'Becoming a Clown in Bali', The Drama Review 23, 2
Johansson, Gunnar 1973
'Visual Perception of Biological Motion and a Model of its Analysis'
Perception and Psychophysics 14, 2
1975
'Visual Motion Perception', ( i n ) Recent Progress in Perception (San
Francisco: W.H. Freeman Co.: Readings from Scientific American
1976)
Jones, Clifford and Betty True Jones 1970
Kathakali (New York: Theater Arts Books)
Matejka, Ladislav and Irwin R. Titunic (eds.) 1976
Semiotics of A r t . Prague School Contributions (Cambridge, Mass.
and London: The MIT Press)
Mathur, J . C . 1964
Drama in Rural India (New York: Asia Publishing House)
Mehl, Dieter 1965
The Elizabethan Dumb Show (London: Methuen)
Mukarovsky, Jan 1939
'K. Capek's Prose as Lyrical Melody and Dialogue', ( i n ) Paul L.
Garvin ( e d . ), A Prague School Reader on Esthetics, Literary Struc
ture and Style (Washington, D . C . : Georgetown University Press,
19642)
 440

Mukarovsky, Jan 1940

'Trois confrences sur la culture de la manifestation parle', Acta
Universitatis Carolinae: Philosophica et historica 5 (1969)
1943
'Intentionality abd Unintentionality in A r t ' , S t r u c t u r e , Sign and
Function: Selected Essays by Jan Mukarovsky (New Haven and
London: Yale University Press, 1978)
2
Nemirovitch-Dantchenko, Vladimir 1968
My Life in the Russian Theater (London: Geoffrey Bles)
2
Obraztsov, Sergei 1975
The Chinese Puppet Theater (Boston: Plays)
Osolsob, Ivo 1974
Divadlo, kter mluvf, zpva a tan (The Theater which Speaks,
Sings and Dances) (Prague: Editio Supraphon)
Pimpaneau, Jacques 1977a
Des poupes a I'ombre (Paris: Centre de publication Asie orien
tale)
1977b
Chanteurs, conteurs, bataleurs (Paris: Centre de publication
Asie orientale)
- 1979
Spectacles d'Asie: Collection Kwok On (Catalogue of exhibition)
(Patis: Bibliothque nationale)
Price, Cecil 1973
Theatre in the Age of Garrick ( O x f o r d : Basil Blackwell)
Rezvani, Medjid 1962
Le thtre et la danse en Iran (Paris: G.-P. Maisonneuve et La-
rose)
3
Rtscher, Heinrich Theodor 1919
Die Kunst der dramatischen Darstellung ( B e r l i n : Erich Reiss)
Scherer, Jacques 1966
Structures de Tartuffe (Paris: Socit d'dition d'enseignement
suprieur)
Scott, A . C . 1972
The Theater in Asia (London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson)
- - - 19732
The Puppet Theater of Japan (Rutland, Vermont and Tokyo:
Tuttle)
Sieffert, Ren 1960
'Introduction', ( i n ) Zeami 1960
Sievers, Eduard 1924
'Ziele und Wege der Schallanalyse', ( i n ) Stand und Aufgaben der
Sprachwissenschaft: Festschrift f r W. Streitberg (Heidelberg)
 441

Soulier, Pierre 1972

Marionettes, leur manipulation, leur thtre (Paris: Editions des
Muses nationaux)
Southerh, Richard 19682
The Seven Ages of the Theater (London: Faber and Faber)
Stanislavsky, Constantin 1937
An Actor Prepares (London: Geoffrey Bles)
--- 1950
Building a Character (London: Max Reinhardt)
--- 19562
My Life in A r t (New York: Meridian Books)
--- 1961
Creating a Role (New York: Theater Arts Books)
Talma, Franois-Joseph 1825
'Rflexions sur le Kain et sur l'art thtral', English translation
( i n ) Brander Matthews ( e d . ) / Papers on Acting (New York: Hill
and Wang)
Tamba, Akari 1974
La structure musicale du No (Paris: Klincksieck)
V e l t r u s k y , Ji 1941a
'Kramrsk pisne a dramata' (Broadsheet Ballads and Dramas),
Slovo a slovesnost 8
--- 1941b
'Dramatic Text as a Component of Theater', ( i n ) L. Matejka and
I.R. Titunik (eds.) 1976
--- 1976
'Contribution to the Semiotics of A c t i n g ' , ( i n ) Ladislav Matejka
( e d . ) , Sound, Sign and Meaning (Ann Arbor: Michigan Slavic
Contributions)
Z a r r i l l i , Phillip B. 1979
'Kalarippayatt, Martial A r t of Kerala, The Drama Review 23.
Zeami 1960
La tradition secrte du No (Paris: Gallimard)
IV. APPLIED THEATRE RESEARCH
 TOWARDS A THEORY OF WOMEN'S THEATRE

Susan E. Bassnett-McGuire

1.

The phenomenon of Women's Theatre s something that can no longer

be regarded as a minor development. Right across western Europe
and the United States, the past decade has seen the emergence of
dozens of companies describing themselves as women's theatre groups
and within the Establishment theatre there has also been a redefini
tion of the process at work, with women playwrights and directors
receiving rather more attention than in the past. Clearly these
changes are related to the gradual spread of the ideas of the Women's
Movement, but it is difficult to attempt to judge the closeness of such
links, since the phenomenon of women's theatre is by no means homo
geneous. Companies vary enormously in terms of size, organization,
method and material and often appear to have little common ground to
share. What does seem to be the link, however, is the notion of a
specifically women's point of view that can somehow be embodied in
theatre terms.

What Raymond Williams (1977) has to say about Marxist writing seems
highly applicable to the phenomenon of the new women's writing also.
Stating that Marxist writing is always aligned, Raymond Williams goes
on to say that
 446

it variously expresses, explicitly or implicitly, specifically selected

experience from a specific point of view. There is of course room for
argument about the precise nature of such a 'point of view'. It does
not, for example, have to be detachable from a work, as in the older
notion of a 'message'. It does not have to be specifically political, or
even social in the narrowest sense. It does not, finally, have to be
seen as in principle separable from any specific composition.

It is this notion of implicit alignment that distinguishes the new

'women's w r i t i n g ' but the question of the discernment of that align
ment is a critical minefield. In a useful article in the Feminist Review,
Rosaling Coward (1980) attacks an earlier article in the same journal
which had implied that any writing describing experience typical of
women could justifiably be termed 'feminist'. She insists that feminism
must always be "the alignment of women in a political movement with
particular political aims and objectives", claiming that this grouping is
unified by its political interests rather than by its common ex
periences and goes on to say that

it is only if we raise such question - questions of the institutions,

politics of those institutions, the representations produced and c i r
culated within those institutions and the assessment of those repre
sentations - that we can make any claim at all to a 'feminist reading'.
And to ignore these questions is to neglect a vital tradition of femi
nism. Images, representations, words, are part of feminism's stock-
in-trade. More than any other radical movement, feminists are aware
of the material effects of images and words and the oppression or
resistance which can be involved in them.

Rosalind Coward is dealing primarily with the question of women's

f i c t i o n , but the points she raises are valid also for the discussion of
theatre. What I hope to do, within the narrow scope of the present
paper, is to look at some of the assumptions behind the notion of
'women's theatre', to t r y and consider the implications of the term
itself and to show how this new phenomenon calls into question basic
ideas about what theatre might be.
 447

2.
The f i r s t , most immediately striking problem, is the whole issue of
terminology. Already in the f i r s t few paragraphs of this paper the
terminological ambiguity of women's theatre has emerged, and the
problem becomes more complex if the term is considered in a his
torical perspective. The term f i r s t comes into being in the British
context to describe the agit-prop protests by women's groups and gay
groups against the Miss World contest in 1970 and in the abortion
rallies of the same period. By March, 1979, the journal Spare Rib
listed under the heading of 'A Guide to Women's Theatre Groups',
some fifteen companies of varying size touring the country with shows
on issues of sexual politics, and that list has since increased in size
despite a hostile economic climate. Whilst some of the companies listed
had originated directly from involvement in the Women's Movement,
others had arisen as breakaway groups from commited Left-wing
companies and, interestingly, the Spare-Rib guide included Gay
Theatre groups under the same blanket heading, thus equating the
term 'women's theatre' with shows dealing with both homosexual and
heterosexual oppression.

Furthermore, there is the problem of the term 'women's theatre' as

opposed to 'feminist theatre,' and although reviewers tend to use the
two randomly, it does seem that there is a distinction to be made.
'Feminist theatre' logically bases itself on the established concerns of
the organized Women's Movement, on the seven demands: equal pay;
equal education and job opportunities; free 24-hour nurseries; free
contraception and abortion on demand; financial and legal independ
ence; an end to discrimination against lesbians and a woman's r i g h t to
define her own sexuality; freedom from violence and sexual coercion.
These seven demands, of which the f i r s t four were established in
1970, and the remainder in 1975 and 1978 show a shift towards a more
radical concept of feminism that asserts female homosexuality and per
ceives violence as originating from men. The tendency therefore is
not so much towards a re-evaluation of the role of women within
 448

society as we know i t , but towards the creation of a totally new set

of social structures in which the traditional male-female roles will be
redefined.

If feminist theatre, in theory, is concerned with the creation of that

new order, the problem remains of how to deal with the term 'women's
theatre.' Certainly it is not descriptive of the composition of many of
the touring groups, for not all are all-female by any means, and
although most have tried to arrive at a more democratic administrative
and decision-making procedure, largely through setting themselves up
as collective enterprises, this is not the case with all groups. Nor
can it be said that the audience are exclusively women, for the Fringe
theatre touring circuit includes provincial Arts centres, colleges and
universities as well as small studio theatres, where the audience are
mixed. There is no British equivalent for the all-women's theatres like
that of La Maddalena in Rome and therefore groups touring with plays
about women's issues must still aim to reach a wide enough audience
to ensure financial s u r v i v a l .

But if women's theatre is not theatre made exclusively by women for

women, what then is it? Various answers to that question have been
p r o f e r r e d , albeit tentatively. Micheline Wandor (1980), feminist play
wright and critic suggests that one of the principal slogans of the
Women's Movement, "The personal is political" has implications for
theatre in general. Explaining that whilst the slogan may be open to
misunderstanding she goes on to say

at its core is the conviction, derived from the specifics of women's

oppression, that there is no detail, however small and intimate, of
social and individual life, which does not have a wider political mean
i n g , and is therefore subject to change. The resurgence of feminism
has introduced new questions about the relationship between the
individual and his/her society and the nature of political change, and
it is from this source that we might see a new definition of political
subject matter for the theatre.
 449

2.2.

What is significant about this statement is the stress laid on the sub
ject matter, on the way in which specifically female issues and per
spectives can be introduced into theatre. The question of women's
work, both the practical exploitation of women and the ambiguities
surrounding, the issues of working mothers has provided material for
several shows, and there have been plays about violence against
women, divorce, lesbian motherhood, abortion, oppressive family
structures and so on. In addition, there have been many shows
dealing with feminism in a historical perspective, with plays about
the seventeenth century wich persecutions, the role of women in the
Paris commune, early Socialist and Anarchist women, the problem of
women and fascism, the suffrage movement and a series of plays
about women who played a central role in the development of the new
awareness.

One such figure, as might be expected, is Queen Christina of

Sweden, the monarch who renounced a throne and whose life has
fascinated biographers through the ages, not least because of the
problematical question of Christina's sexual identity. And the case of
Queen Christina had also acquired another dimension following the
new convention of the all-for-love version of her story projected by
the Garbo screen portrayal. So in reconsidering the Christina story
as material for the theatre, it might be expected that the new wave of
women writers would seek to focus both on the problem of Christina's
struggle towards an understanding of her sexual identity and simul
taneously to attack the romanticized image established by Hollywood.
Ruth Wolff's version of the Christina story, The Abdication (1969)
was f i r s t produced by the Bristol Old Vic company and later made
into a film, with Liv Ullman and Peter Finch as Queen Christina and
Cardinal Azzolino, the man with whom she learns about both divine
and human love. In her short preface to the play, Ruth Wolff claims
(1980: 341) that she writes about so-called great women in an attempt
 450

to create major roles for actresses, and about her choice of Christina
she notes that "Christina is the most disturbed of the women I've
written about - the most in conflict about being a woman." This,
t h e n , is her starting point, and Ruth Wolff's play, which follows the
conventions of the two act well-made piece, explores the problem of
the conflicts within one woman as her desire to love and be loved
clashes with the weight of social expectation and, ultimately, with the
possibility of a divine plan. At the height of her agony of indecision,
over the abdication, Christina cries out (Wolff 1980:437):

Look at me! I am a grotesque! A freak! Look at my

man-woman b r a i n , my man-woman heart, my man-woman body!
Look at me! Two sexes! Both at once and neither!
I'm being torn apart!

Yet in spite of the surface novelty, this play is still making a very
traditional statement about women's identity, for the juxtaposition
throughout is between the public, seen as the male part of Christina's
consciousness, and the private, which is the female part. The play is
really about the conflict of love and d u t y , and in perceiving these as
opposites and as sex-determined opposites, Ruth Wolff is actually
reinforcing the Garboesque vision rather than attacking i t . The given
frame of reference may seem to be different, but the treatment of the
material is entirely conventional.

The Queen Christina story emerges again in the context of women's

theatre in 1977. In that year, Pam Gems' play, simply entitled Queen
Christina, was performed by the Royal Shakespeare Company at the
Other Place, S t r a t f o r d , under the direction of Penny Cherns. Or, to
put it in slightly different terms, a play by one of the most establish
ed British women playwrights, directed by one of the few women
guest directors of the RSC, was performed by Britain's most pres
tigious company, in the theatre set up as an alternative playing space
to the conventional Stratford theatre largely by the efforts of another
woman, the late director, Buzz Goodbody. It is possible, therefore,
 451

to see the production of this play itself as indicative of changes in

the approach to 'women's theatre' by the Establishment. Indeed, in
his recent book on changes of RSC policy ( i . e . the proliferation of
small playing spaces as opposed to the traditional large scale space
and the wider range of performance texts untertaken by the company)
Colin Chambers (1980:7) goes so far as to describe Buzz Goodbody as
the catalyst for change, the person "who provided the all-important
bridge between the RSC and the f r i n g e , combining its excitement and
social challenge with the Company's classical strength and tradition of
excitement" .
But before hastening to herald Queen Christina as marking the RSC's
commitment to women both as material and as producers of plays, it is
worth pausing to consider what the playwright does with the C h r i
stina story. For a s t a r t , she challenges the romanticised Garbo image,
in that her Christina is foul-mouthed, uncouth, explicitly bisexual
and, in the scene where she and the soldiers hack her former lover
Monaldescho to pieces, brutally cruel. Retaining the bare bones of
the Christina story - her troubled relationship with her mother, her
love for Ebba Sparre and Duke Magnus and bitter jealousy of their
marriage, the abdication, her f l i g h t to Rome and special closeness
with Cardinal Azzolino - Pam Gems gives us the portrait of a woman
not torn between abstract ideas of love and d u t y , but fighting to
understand and come to terms with herself. From the audience's f i r s t
sight of Christina, dressed as a man and mocking a prospective
suitor, we come at the end to Lucia's account of Christina's death as
an old woman, defending the honour of Angelica, the girl she has
come to love as a daughter. For although this is not a play about
romantic love, it is not a play about a woman's right to assert her
own sexuality either, it is a play about the relationship between
motherhood and power. In her final moments on stage Christina
savages Azzolino and rails against her childlessness:

You should have given me a child!

There would have been something to live f o r ! Now I must
weep for them all! I can't do i t !
 452

Pam Gem's Christina, for all her apparent challenging of sexually

determined social roles, is no feminist. In one of the most revealing
scenes of the play, where Christina meets Madame de Rohant and the
Bluestockings, Pam Gems contrasts Christina's crude energy and zest
for life with the coldness of a rational feminist world in which the
Marquise refuses to go to her father's deathbed because he is a man
and one of the enemy. When Madame de Rohant salutes Christina as
"an inspiration", Christina replies simply

You mustn't get the wrong idea. I pushed off because

I couldn't stand i t , in a way it was totally selfish -
I wanted to Live!

Misunderstanding her completely, Madame de Rohant insists:

And why not? We demand the same freedom as men - More,

since the breeding of children confines us more!

In this play Christina represents Instinct, and in spite of all her

gross behaviour the author directs our sympathies continually in the
same direction. Christina is a kind of female Caliban and the play,
like The Tempest, is centred around the problem of the balance of
power in the clash between reason and unreason. Having finally
rejected the paternalistic structures of kingship, marriage, politics
and war, together with the feminist alternative structures, Christina
is left to contend with the instinctual force of motherlove in her own
barren body. It begins to look as if the choice of the Christina
material is not so much part of a globalised statement as a highly
personal one, for there is a way in which the play can be seen as
anti-feminist in the final assessment.

Plays about 'great' women, then, even where the context might i n d i
cate the contrary, are not feminist plays or even, except in strict
terms of the sex of the w r i t e r , main character and director, women's
theatre. And clearly this is in part because of the concept of history
that sees the past as expanses of time punctuated by the emergence
 453

of great individuals, a vision that can be perceived as both sexist

and elitist by nature. In theatre terms this pattern results in the
concept of stardom, the ranking of certain actors in time and space
above others, the foregrounding in performance terms of few above
many. The Queen Christina material both reinforces a single actor in
the title role. It is therefore not the stuff out of which radical
theatre can emerge.

2.3.

One of the tendencies in the small touring groups has been to attempt
to create a new theatre on two fronts simultaneously: in terms of
organizational structures and in terms of stage figures. Hence the
shift towards a collectively administered s t r u c t u r e , where the company
concerns itself with both financial and artistic decision-making pro
cesses and where the credit for the final show is often not attributed
to a single writer but to the combined work of the group. Perceiving
hierarchies as contrary to the aims of the women's movement, a num
ber of groups can best be described as 'women's theatre' by what
happens off rather than on-stage.

2.4.

The attempts to challenge conventions of stage stereotyping of women

is another serious strand in the search for a definition of women's
theatre. For not only has the stage mirrored external social struc
tures in relegating women to secondary or subservient roles, it has
also reinforced the idealised image of woman as art object. The con
jurer's assistant, in revealing costume, spangles and fishnet has
become a clich, but she is also a sign of woman's decorative func
t i o n , that becomes confused with other sets of value systems, so that
it is possible to argue that woman, on stage, is often herself a sign.
This signedness of woman again indicates the relegation of women to a
secondary position in the wider context and attempts have been made
by some theatre groups to challenge this usage.
 454

Since beauty and/sexual desirability can be signalled by woman's

clothing, some groups have started from that point and have attempt
ed to create a theatre of counter-images, where women appear in
overalls or jeans, without make-up or else are dressed in such a way
as to appear grotesque and hideous. Since beauty as a commodity has
provided the subject matter for so much drama, the challenge to that
tradition provides a focus for a women's counter-theatre, and there
have been a number of different approaches. Spare Tyre Company,
for example, was formed after the publication and widespread dis
cussion of Susie Orbach's book, Fat is a Feminist Issue, that sought
to explore the relationship between feminism and accepted notions of
female beauty. The actors in this company have therefore tackled the
question of the portrayal of fatness on stage, not only as a tradition
al comic sign but also as the opposition to the idealised image of
slimness.

Also challenging stage images, in a rather different way, is the type

of group represented by Clapperclaw, an all-woman music-theatre
group that rejects the apparatus of costuming and make-up t r a d i
tionally associated with the female entertainer in favour of a downbeat
image of practicality in dress and 'ordinariness.' Clapperclaw's mate
rial - songs and sketches about abortion, sexual oppression, etc. -
employs the cabaret format to present an attack on cabaret theatre,
and it is significant that this approach is also employed by other
groups, since the cabaret form involves the establishment of a par
ticular kind of performer-audience relationship that combines the
distance of frame with extreme closeness of frame breaking. It is
difficult to see how the feminist cabaret, employing the accepted
images of feminist appearance that challenge the socially accepted
ones, would work with an audience that was not already a priori
committed to espousing the same cause. In other words, with this
form of theatre what happens on stage reinforces the expectations of
the audience and works off the interaction that results, hence its
popularity at feminist rallies and meetings.
 455

A more directly aggressive form of image-breaking women's theatre

can be seen in the work of a group such as Cunning Stunts, whose
very name is a comic invitation to the unwary to fall into a sexist
t r a p . Here the challenge to the stereotyped stage images of women is
taken further, and the actors use spatial relationships and body
language to create new stage pictures of women. Cunning Stunts, in
fact, utilise ideas of 'unwomanliness' in language, behaviour, gesture
and appearance to good comic effect and so attack the notion that
certain kinds of theatre and certain kinds of comedy belong to men.
However, since the prime impulse of such theatre is to set up alter
native images, it can still be seen as a theatre of re-action rather
than of action. In other words, it is a theatre of novelty rather than
of innovation, where the laughter still derives from the spectacle of
women revolting against male-determined vision rather than from new
sources altogether.

2.5.

In a brief interview in Quaderni di teatro (1979), Dacia Maraini, who

has contributed a great deal to the advancement of the discussion of
women's theatre, gives a resume of the teatro la Maddalena from its
origins in 1973:

We started out with a theatre that broke with the past, attacked, set
up barricades. That was the 'white-hot' time of feminism. We wanted
to spread ideas that very few people held and very few people agreed
w i t h . Then as feminism gradually spread, as consciousness-raising i n
creased and as some of the basic tenets of the women's movement
were accepted by the masses, we began to feel the need to work on
our theatre projects in greater depth and to establish a more complex
process of mediation with our fathers' culture. You couldn't do b a r r i
cade theatre any more; we had to follow the path that the movement
was following in analysing the unconscious, considering everything we
had read into patriarchal values. So from the political shows, of the
f i r s t three years of questioning we moved on to more sophisticated,
more 'thought-out' performances that expressed our contradictions as
well as our certainties. Now we have, within the collective, one or
two experimental groups that don't even touch on female subject
matter.
 456

Dacia Maraini is here making some very important points: f i r s t l y , that

women's theatre moves through stages of development that reflect an
increasing sense of security in the world at large as the ideas of the
women's movement gain a foothold, and secondly, that in theatre
terms that development comes from a movement away from confronta
tion, perhaps even away from the treatment of specifically women's
material. If this is indeed the case, then image challenging theatre of
the kind outlined above marks a f i r s t stage in the creation of a new
women's theatre, as does the crude agit-prop kind of theatre, also
popular at feminist rallies, where a woman has only to appear with a
sweeping b r u s h , for example, to instantly become a sign of women's
oppression. In agit-prop theatre of this k i n d , that is subject matter
orientated, the concept and the possibilities of theatre are vastly re
stricted. The performance becomes merely a channel, a stage in a
debate where actors are not so much facing the audience as joined
with them. It is worth noting, at this juncture that a number of
women's companies invite after-performance discussion where, fre
quently, actors and audience unite in talking about particular griev
ances and perhaps recounting case histories. The Women's Theatre
Group, for example, one of the earliest British companies, founded in
1973, have always actively encouraged after-performance discussion
and their plays may be seen as a prelude to that discussion, often
clumsily devised and badly acted but full of crusading s p i r i t . Such
plays are not self-contained, and the framing device of the play itself
is subordinate to the wider frame of the encounter between people
united in opposition to a common cause.

It is tempting to link this kind of utilisation of theatre to a marked

trend in the women's movement that perceives lectures and controlled
debates as inherently male structures. The notion of the group, the
collective that takes decisions jointly and holds joint responsibility
without a single identifiable leader is a basic tenet of feminist politics,
and the use of a short theatrical event as a prelude to discussion is
 457

one way of avoiding the selection of speakers. David Edgar, one of

the best-known British Left-wing playwrights, (who has written for
Monstruous Regiment theatre group himself) says, in an article in
Theatre Quarterly (1979) on political theatre 1968-78,

sexual politics is clearly an area of experience which can be much

more illuminatingly and richly discussed in a representational rather
than a purely descriptive medium because it is at the interface of the
personal and political.

2.6.

The suggestion that Edgar makes does indeed have wide ranging im
plications for he seems to be claiming that there could be a hierarchy
of greater and lesser representational material, a surprisingly elitist
idea. Yet the notion of theatre as the shell from which the yolk is
extracted in actor-audience discussion lies at the centre of a specific
type of women's theatre. Although some groups have sought out work
ing class venues, many play predominantly to small audiences, usually
young and often middle-class, most of whom are already converted to
the message brought by the actors, and such a theatre illustrates
some of the ambiguities surrounding the question of the power rela
tionship between stage and auditorium.

Brecht (1963) has shown how a dialectical approach to theatre should

lead to a balance between empathy and detachment within the per
formance, but it is clear that with women's discussion-theatre this
balance does not exist, for the purpose is to establish a rapport
between actors and audience that transcends theatre and extends into
life. Indeed, at times that rapport can be used to destroy the bound
aries between theatre and non-theatre altogether. In an interview
published in The Drama Review's special issue on women and perform
ance (1980), one of the three artistic directors of the Women's Ex
perimental Theatre, Roberta Sklar, describes her f i r s t contact with
specifically feminist theatre in the following terms:
 458

I was not drawn to the particular theatrical forms, but to the

phenomenon of the audience and the performers really knowing each
other, to the shared consciousness. I came to understand that being
a woman encompasses every part of me, and I wanted to do theatre
that was about t h a t .

Later she describes the new kind of theatre she and her co-workers
have set'out to create in terms of resolving in identity crisis:

I am less scared these days because some identity issues are settled:
Who I am is clear to me in an institution I am creating. Our audience
is a support group.

What Roberta Sklar is saying is that a women's theatre begins by

separating itself from the wider world of theatre ("You can't afford
influences in other directions. Facing the brand-new is hard enough
in a supportive place!") and defines itself by reshaping the tradition
al actor-audience relationship so that the total process involves the
consciousness raising of both halves of that relationship. This is a
more extreme position that that posited by any of the British groups,
but derives nevertheless from a common sense of uneasiness about
what actually happens in theatre. Traditionally, in Western theatre,
the status of women has mirrored that of society at large. Women
have, at various times, been forbidden to act at all, been forced to
wear clothing that distinguished them as actors/whores, been ex
cluded from the processes of planning and devising theatre and
frequently have been allowed little more than occasional opportunities
to appear in subsidiary roles. Moreover, the equation of sexual
availability with acting for women has led to a tradition of the use of
women as decorative elements on stage and even where women have
occasionally emerged as great stars, the decorative element is often
the aspect that receives the greatest prominance. Roberta Sklar's
account of the way in which she was treated by colleagues, even
those with profound commitment to anti-oppression politics, by critics
and by the theatre world at large is one that many of the women
working in the new collective groups would agree w i t h . One such
 459

group, Monstruous Regiment, founded in 1975 and perhaps the most

interesting and innovative of the British women's theatre groups (see
Bassnett-McGuire), claim in their publicity statement that they are

f i g h t i n g back against the treatment of women, in the theatre and in

society. Unemployment, small parts as wives or g i r l f r i e n d s , always
serving, never acting on their own behalf.

In protest against that t r a d i t i o n , t h e n , Roberta Sklar defines a theo

ry that sees theatre as a process of joint consciousness-raising,
where the power structures of both the actor-audience relationship
and the women-theatre relationship have seemingly been altered.

2.7.

The problems with such a concept, however, are vast. Leaving aside
the whole question of the viability and desirability of separatism, two
major problematical areas remain: whether there can be a specifically
women's creativity in theatre terms and how to distinguish the bound
aries between theatre and non-theatre. Simone de Beauvoir, dis
cussing women w r i t i n g , expresses the view that women's creativity is
still restricted by her own lack of freedom:

When they (women writers) have removed the veils of illusion and
deception, they think they have done enough; but this negative
audacity leaves us still faced by an enigma, for the t r u t h itself is
ambiguity, abyss, mystery: once stated, it must be thoughtfully re
considered, recreated. It is all very well not to be duped, but at
that point all else begins. Woman exhausts her courage dissipating
mirages and she stops in t e r r o r at the threshold of reality. ( . . . )
( . . . ) A r t , literature, philosophy, are attempts to found the world
anew on a human l i b e r t y : that of the individual creator; to entertain
such a pretension, one must f i r s t unequivocally assume the status of
a being who has liberty.

Considered from this point of view, a theatre that barricades itself

off from the forces t h a t , through protest, generated its very exist
ence cannot progress outside the limits of its own closed circle. In
other words, rather than it being a new 'liberated' theatre, it is a
 460

theatre that celebrates its own oppression. To a lesser extent, the

small companies that play at feminist rallies or in student unions are
likewise caught up in a closed circle, seeking primarily to win ap
proval for their ideas and appealing for that approval largely to
like-minded audiences. They are still trapped by their own inability
to find a freedom based on something other than outward-directed at
tacks on existing structures. The device of using performance to
raise consciousness comes more from a need to find a suitable i n s t r u
ment to use in that process than from a sense of seeking to expand
the frontiers of a r t . Closed-circle theatre, in short, seeks to remove
conflict from performance by deliberately b l u r r i n g lines between art
and life in the hope of creating something that is neither one nor the
other, but a fusion of both. A short, half-hour playlet, clumsily
w r i t t e n , with no characterisation, minimal plot line and simple socialist
realist staging can be offered as a t r i g g e r for an ensuing two-hour
discussion session. It could be argued that the performance could be
dispensed with altogether and substituted by impromptu statements by
actors/audience, following the principle of the Quaker meeting that
has been adopted by the Women's Movement in a number of countries.
No-one initiates, group discussion comes into being naturally, free
from any elitist notions of leadership.

Except that, as anyone knows who has been present at such discus
sions, this simply does not happen. Conditioned as we are to the idea
of an individual or individuals as initiators/teachers, the inevitable
result is often long silences, embarrassment and, ultimately the emer
gence of leading speaker who provides a focus for the attacks of the
newly galvanised group against elitism. For if ordered structures are
seen to be male, women are left in an intolerable - and untenable -
position: to set up alternative structures could be perceived as con
forming to the male notion of woman as his own reflection and to t r y
and dispense with structures altogether is to risk silence and stasis.
What happens therefore is compromise - ostensibly the idea of the
 461

collective group abolishes hierarchies, but the problem of opening a

meeting or discussion still remains, and it is far too simplistic to see
the individual who speaks f i r s t as necessarily showing imperialistic
male t r a i t s . As Simone de Beauvoir puts i t , spontaneity is extremely
difficult to achieve and the creators of the clumsy half-hour playlet
can be equated with her attack on the legions of women who "toy with
arts and letters" and who "continue to be torn between their nar
cissism and an inferiority complex".

2.8.

Whatever the claims for creating a new theatre, the idea of theatre
outlined by Roberta Sklar of the women's discussion theatre of the
kind outlined above are still very reductive. For both approaches are
still striving to appropriate what they see as belonging elsewhere -
i.e. the underlying tenet is that theatre, like the system of having a
discussion led by a principal speaker(s) is fundamentally male, be
cause it involves a precise concept of hierarchical s t r u c t u r i n g , with
actors performing in order to elicit an audience response. Keir Elam's
suggestion (1977) that what converts people, action and objects into
signs on stage is the removal of the performance from praxis, follow
ing Veltrusky's statement that in theatre "the action is an end in
itself and lacks an external practical purpose" is not applicable to
closed-circle discussion theatre, where the dramatic situation is the
social situation.

3.

At this juncture it is possible to see that the search for a definition

of women's theatre has led us f u r t h e r towards a theory of actor-
audience relationships as a base on which to set the term. Under the
global heading of women's theatre, we have found specifically feminist
views expressed, together with views that could at best be described
as a-feminist, at worst as anti-feminist. There are all-female compa
nies, mixed companies, homosexual companies, the playing spaces
 462

vary as widely as do the audiences. Much of the theatre mentioned so

far has been concerned with either challenging accepted stage images
of women or seeking, through content and later discussion to chal
lenge social attitudes. Roberta Sklar's theatre, differing from the
other types discussed, represents a retreat from accepted notions of
performer audience relations to the point where one must ask the
question as to whether the barriers have been let down so far that
there is no theatre at all. And this leads us on to the most central
question underlying all types of so-called women's theatre - whether
such a phenomenon is not a contradiction in terms, in short, whether
theatre is male.

3.1.

In a pamphlet entitled Feminism and Theatre (1978), the text of an

interview by Peter Hulton, the editor of the series, with Gillian
Hanna, founding member of Monstruous Regiment is published. During
the course of that interview, Peter Hulton suggested that the form of
plays and dramatic energy of the play was outside the experience of
women:

Let us talk about form and about the possibility of a feminist con
sciousness pushing towards a new form. I am going to suggest that
the structure and form of plays and the dramatic energy of the play
. . . where you are dealing with protagonists and antagonists, with
conflict, and evolution and a sense of ending, where you're dealing
with this thing that is of short high energy construct in which events
are happening - and however you like to define a traditional play it
is that - can one say that the actual form of the play you have i n
herited, that you are working i n , is, in large measure, a form that is
derived from the tensions, resolutions, the composition within males.

Gillian Hanna's reply returns us in full circle back to the slogan that
the personal is political. She notes that in the progression of the
work of Monstruous Regiment there seems to have been a movement
towards "a kind of breaking up t h i n g s " , and links this with a refusal
to accept that life is linear. Suggesting that men are born into a
world where they can map out life and order their lives in a linear
 463

manner, with a prior notion of beginning, middle and end, she points
out that such linearity is not part of the female experience: "It's
much more contradictory." For a woman, says Hanna, life is experi
enced as fragments which, put together make up a whole - the ex
periences of work, c h i l d b i r t h , menopause, the roles that with each
new development women are forced to assume (e.g. the woman
who marries "becomes" a wife, then perhaps also a mother, with the
huge set of cultural assumptions and evaluations of each stage) - out
of these fragmented parts comes the specifically female perception of
life. She might also have included the question of menstruation, that
causes women to read time differently, but all events what Gillian
Hanna is suggesting has considerable importance. For if the notion of
linearity, of overview, is taken as a starting point for the theatre
that is seen to be inherently male, then a specifically women's theatre
may well be a theatre in search of a form. And one cannot but be
reminded of the way in which the opposition fragmentation-linearity
(female-male) has led to a re-evaluation of the diary form of prose
writing.

3.2.

It comes as no surprise, therefore, to discover that Gillian Hanna,

struggling towards a theory of women's theatre in the British context
and Dacia Maraini, struggling towards a similar theory in the Italian
context, should finally have come together. In September 1980,
Monstruous Regiment performed Gillian Hanna's translation of Dacia
Maraini's play Dialogo d'una prostituta col suo cliente (1978), a play
which attempts to break new ground both in terms of actor-audience
relations and in terms of the ordering of material within the frame of
the play - in short, it can be seen as an attempt to create a genuine
ly new kind of theatre without totally dissolving the boundaries be
tween performers and public.
 464

The shape of the play is straightforward: it consists of a dialogue

between a young man and a prostitute in her apartment, during the
course of which all kinds of assumptions not only about the nature of
prostitution but about sexuality are explored. The language of the
play is heightened - it is 'stage' language as opposed to 'real-life'
language, in other words it contains a degree of signedness that is
deliberately constructed. However, the dialogue between the two
characters is interrupted at times by their opening the discussion to
include the audience, at which points there is an extra-stage input
into the course of the play. This input can vary enormously in
length, and in intensity, but the interventions of the audience are
not to be seen as interruptions to the course of action, but rather as
an integral part of the whole. Maraini has devised a play in which the
breaking of the dramatic dialogue does not represent a break in the
overall dramatic frame. The unscripted is integral, the audience can
choose whether to participate or not, the boundaries between per
formance and non-performance are blurred and, above all, the idea of
fragmentation is elevated into a dramatic whole. This is not demon
strative theatre, nor is it consciousness-raising, it is an attempt to
redefine the relationship between theatre and non-theatre in new
terms - the terms of the fragmented life experience rather than the
linear one.

4.

There is a need for much more discussion of the phenomenon of

women's theatre, especially in the light of the reappraisal of the
Discours-histoire dichotomy within new feminist terms. Nor should
that discussion be limited only to women, for the issues cannot be
restricted. Indeed, in a recent article on the vast changes in c r i t i
cism that have swept Europe since 1917, T e r r y Eagleton (1980) dis
cusses the question of a new approach to texts in terms that stress
the significance of the emergent women's voice:

What would such a criticism look like? To begin w i t h , it would aim to

return those activities artificially isolated as 'literary' to the whole
 465

field of cultural practices. It would, moreover, strive to relate such

'cultural' practices to other forms of social activity. It would refuse
the received hierarchies of 'literature', transvaluating given evalua
tions and assumptions.
It would seek to engage with the language and 'unconscious' of lit
erary t e x t s , to reveal the part they play in the ideological construc
tion of individuals; and it would mobilise such t e x t s , if necessary by
hermeneutical "violence", in a struggle for transformation within a
wider political context. Finally, it would always see 'literature' as in
the f i r s t place an institution, caught up in certain relations of social
power, rather than as a set of isolated 'works.'
If one wanted to find such a criticism, already active within the
present, then it has a name: feminist criticism. No other critical
project has striven so consistently to unite all of these goals, thin
and undeveloped though much of it has been. It is perhaps to such
trends that we can look for the furtherance of the critical revolution.

If Eagleton is right in his assumption, then the process of revaluation

will be to enable what has hitherto been a minority voice to offer an
alternative account of art and its provenance in human experience.

References

Bassnett-McGuire, Susan E. f c .
'Women's Theatre, Notes on the Work of Monstruous Regiment'
British Drama and Theatre from the Mid-Fifties to the Mid-Seven
ties (Wilhelm-Pieck Universitt, Rostock) 1979, pp.89-101.

Beauvoir, Simone de n.d.

The Second Sex.

Brecht, Berthold 1963

Dialogue aus dem Messingkauf ( F r a n k f u r t a . M . : Suhrkamp).

Chambers, Colin 1980

Other Spaces, New Theatre and the RSC (London: Methuen).

Coward, Rosalind 1980

'Are Women's Novels Feminist Novels?', Feminist Review 5,
pp.53-65.

Eagleton, T e r r y 1980
'How the critical revolution started r o l l i n g , ' The Times Higher
Education Supplement (19 September 1980), p.9.
 466

Edgar, David 1979

'Ten Years of Political Theatre, 1968-78,' Theatre Quarterly 8,
32, pp.25-33.

Elam, Keir 1977

'Language in the Theater,' Sub-stance 18/19, pp.139-163.

Feminist and Theatre 1978

Theatre Papers 8 (Devon: Dartington College of A r t s ) .

Maraini, Dacia 1978

Dialogo d'una prostituta col suo cliente (Padova: Mastrogiacorno
Editore).

Maraini, Dacia 1979

'Intervista a Dacia Maraini, 'Il teatro delle donne',' Quaderni di
teatro 1 , 3, pp.63-65.

Sklar, Roberta 1980

'Towards Creating a Women's Theatre,' The Drama Review 24, 2,
pp.23-41.

Wandor, Micheline 1980

'The Personal is Political,' i n : Sandy Craig ( e d . ) , Dreams and
Deconstructions, Alternative Theatre in Britain (Ambergate:
Amber Lane Press), pp.49-58.

Williams, Raymond 1977

Marxism and Literature ( O x f o r d : Oxford UP).

Wolff, Ruth 1980

The Abdication, i n : Honor Moore ( e d . ) , The New Women's Thea
t e r . Ten Plays by Contemporary American Women (New York:
Vintage Books).
 'GOOD GUY BAD GUY' EFFECTS IN POLITICAL THEATRE

Ed Tan and Henry Schoenmakers

1. Introduction

Political theatre-makers these days may find themselves trapped in a

curious dilemma. If on the one hand they clearly advocate the point
of view characteristic of some political g r o u p , they are readily ac
cused of oversimplifying matters and of stereotyping persons and i n
stitutions. If, on the other hand, they t r y to evoke critical reflection
in their audience on complicated political issues t h a t , in their opinion,
are subject to superficial and one-sided coverage by the media, they
run the risk of being completely misunderstood. It is the latter, less
familiar effect, that we want to show in this contribution, by means
of two examples of reception-research. In both cases theatre-makers
had in mind to present a balanced opinion by way of two antagonistic
characters each holding a different view. Our results suggest that,
as a political theatre-maker, you have to stereotype your characters
better that your audience will do in order to reach this end.

A second aim we hope to realize with this contribution is to illustrate

the usefulness of empirical reception-research as a means in the con
struction of a performance theory. At the Amsterdam Institute for
Theatre Research, we t r y to formulate a cognitive theory of drama by
analysing performances in terms of structures which have a psycho
logical reality, that is, play a demonstrable role in reception-proces
ses which take place, (so to speak) in the head of the spectator. A
 468

more detailed account of this theoretical approach has been given else
where (= cf. Schoenmakers 1980, 1982; and Tan 1979, 1982).

2. 'PROTEST' by Vclav Havel 1

2 . 1 . Introduction and contents of the performance

The play Protest by the Czech author Vclav Havel has been per
formed by
(a group of) students of the Institute for Theatre Re-
2
search of the University of Amsterdam . Havel is known for his activ
ities as a member of the Charter 77 group and of V . O . N . S . (a com
mittee which defends the unjustly persecuted).
The performance was given in a class-room, as the producers expec
ted certain effects resulting from the peculiar characteristics of such
a room given the particular 'message' they had in mind. As a control
for these effects, performances were also given at the University
Theatre.

The play consists of a dialogue between Stanek, a well-to-do play

w r i g h t , who pretends to contend with the system from w i t h i n , and
Vanek, a dissident writer, living in apparent penury. Stanek has
invited his erstwhile friend to his study, in order to persuade him to
organize a protest action against the arrest of Yavurek, a dissident
pop singer. Stanek's daughter is pregnant through Yavurek. Stanek's
attempts to set him free with the help of his connections, have all
been fruitless.

It turns out that the protest suggested by Stanek already exists.

Vanek carries with him a protest letter for which he is collecting sig
natures. Vanek asks Stanek to sign the petition. After ample compar-
3
ison of pros and cons in a 'speech of brilliant sophistry' , the play
ends when Stanek, after his final refusal to sign, receives a teleph
one message about Yavurek's sudden release, making both the con
versation and the protest letter inane.
 469

2.2. Rationale and hypotheses

Hypotheses as to the reception of this particular performance were

derived from the intentions of the producers. The aim of the produc
ers, t h e n , was to provoke critical reflection in the audience upon the
dissidence issue. They did not principally have in view that specta
tors would make a choice between Stanek and Vanek, (hence they
tried to make Stanek not look unsympathetical), but rather that they
would consider the political system that produces Staneks and Vaneks.

Critical reflection, they reasoned, can be brought about by emotional

stimulation of the audience. It is here that theatrical space comes i n .
Characteristics of theatrical space play a crucial role in the emotional
impact of this performance, still according to the producers.

Half of the performances of Protest were given at the University The

atre and half of them were given in a class-room. Those given at the
theatre served merely as a control; the producers preferred in fact,
the class-room. It was expected that performances given here would
have a stronger emotional impact than those given at the theatre. Two
global characteristics of theatrical space were assumed to be respon
sible for this differential impact. The f i r s t might be called 'compatibil
ity with regular expectations'. The producers assume that spectators,
in general, expect to attend performances in rooms especially designed
to this end and, as such, immediately recognizable. The class-room
did not match with this highly conventionalized 'frame', at least less
so than the theatre. It was expected that the divergence between
expected and perceived theatrical space would cause uneasy feelings
in the spectator.

The second gross characteristic of theatrical space is size. The class-

room was much smaller that the theatre and, therefore, was assumed
to create a much mor 'close' impression than the theatre. Furthermore,
the distance between actors and spectators was smaller and spectators
were seated closer to each other, which facilitates social control. As a
result, more emotional involvement and more negative feeling were ex
pected in the class-room.
 470

Finally it was expected that differences in emotional impact would re

sult in differential evaluations of the performance. The producers
expected that the performance in the class-room would be judged as
better than that in the theatre, in spite of the fact that feelings a-
roused in the class-room are predominantly negative ones. They ar
gued that such feelings will be appreciated by the spectators as cor
responding to the aim of the producers, and as such they will c o n t r i
bute to a favourable judgement.

The 'mini-theory' of the producers, that is, the set of hypotheses

concerning the reception of Protest, can be summarized as follows:
The independent variable that was manipulated 'experimentally' is the
atrical space. Theatrical space (class-room v s . theatre) is assumed to
have an effect on emotions, to the extent that if one compares the
situation in the class-room with that in the theatre stronger, and
mainly negative, feelings are expected. Furthermore theatrical space
is hypothesized to influence evaluation of the performance indirectly,
since stronger emotions are assumed to contribute to a more favour
able judgement. In scheme:

theatrical
perception emotion evaluation
space

Fig.1 : Mini-theory of reception of 'Protest'

('Perception of theatrical space' was added as a variable intervening

between the experimental variable and 'emotion', in order to check the
effect of theatrical space independently from emotions).

Finally, it should be repeated that the producers assumed that both

emotions and evaluation would not be influenced by thematic aspects
of the performance, as the presented views and characters would be
perceived to be in balance.
 471

2.3. Method

Subjects in the present study were 152 spectators, who were in no

way selected; 83 of them were females, 61 were males, whereas 8 did
not respond to the question as to their sex. The proportions of males
and females in the class-room and in the theatre were about equal. As
far as f u r t h e r characteristics are concerned, we assume that the spec
tators did not differ from the regular University Theatre audience,
which has a high average education (above high school) and is pre
dominantly young (with a modal age class of 20-30 years).

The questionnaire we used (see Appendix 1) consisted of a number of

rating scales, assumed to measure the variables represented in the
mini-theory, perception of theatrical space (items 5-7 and 10-17),
Emotion felt during the performance (items 18-25), and Evaluation
(26). Furthermore attitude towards Stanek and Vanek, and Identifica
tion with these characters were measured (items 1-4 and 8-9, respec
tively), in order to check the assumption of perceived balance be
tween opposed views.

For a detailed account of both experimental design and procedure,

one is refferred to Eversmann et al. (1981). All spectators were of
fered a questionnaire on leaving the theatre or the class-room.

2.4. Some results

As no pilot-study has been carried out in advance, we had to con

struct a measurement device afterwards. In order to identify scales
measuring our theoretical variables in a consistent manner, a number
of cluster analyses were carried out. The hypotheses were tested us
ing cluster scores, obtained by simply summing the scores on items
4
forming one scale , that is, a consistent and interpretable cluster.
(An overview of the total clustering process can be found in Appen
dix 2. Readers interested in the technical details are, again, referred
to Eversmann et a l . (1981) and to the literature on cluster analysis,
for instance Everitt (1974).
 472

2.4.1 Perception of theatrical space

Cluster analysis did not give support to the assumption that 'compati
bility with regular expectations' and 'perceived size' are the major
dimensions of theatrical space. Instead, the following cluster emerged:

cluster item rij

10. chilly
'Negative aspects' 11. grey .68
17. close
16. tense
7. spectators seated
closely

Table 1 : Strongest cluster of variables in perception of theatrical

space.
rij. = average within cluster correlation ( i . e . average of all
correlations between items). rij may range from .00 (no re
lationship between items) to 1.000 (perfect relationship
between all items).

The cluster can be interpreted, we t h i n k , as reflecting the perception

of negative aspects of theatrical space. It turned out that spectators
in the class-room saw the theatrical space as somewhat more negative
than theatre spectators, as can be inferred from table 2:

m sd n t df P

classroom 9.37 4.99 38 1.23 88 .11

theatre 8.10 4.74 52

Table 2: 'Negative aspects' scores, class-room v s . theatre conditions.

(m = mean score; sd = standard deviation; df = degrees of
freedom; n = number of subjects; t = test statistic, reflect
ing magnitude of difference between conditions; p = one
tailed probability of test-statistic if there were no differences
between conditions).
 473

For t h e n o n - t e c h n i c a l r e a d e r i n s p e c t i o n of t h e means ( m ) may s u f f i c e .

Class-room spectators seem t o score higher, but the difference be
t w e e n c o n d i t i o n s is n o t s i g n i f i c a n t ( p >.05).

On some s e p e r a t e i t e m s , h o w e v e r , d i f f e r e n c e s c o u l d be e s t a b l i s h e d .

A s p r e d i c t e d , c l a s s - r o o m s u b j e c t s had t h e i m p r e s s i o n of b e i n g seated
closer t o o t h e r s p e c t a t o r s t h a n t h e a t r e - s u b j e c t s ( i t e m 7, p = . 0 1 ) . As
predicted, c l a s s - r o o m s p e c t a t o r s f o u n d t h e room ' c h i l l i e r ' (as opposed
t o ' c o s y ' ) t h a n t h e i r f e l l o w s in t h e t h e a t r e ( I t e m 10, p = . 0 1 ) . Fur
thermore the theatre was, in line w i t h t h e e x p e c t a t i o n s , seen as more
'conventional' (as opposed to 'surprising') than the class-room il
tern 13, p = . 0 0 ) . T h e c l a s s - r o o m was p e r c e i v e d as 'smaller' ( I t e m 14,
p = .01) and ' c l o s e r ' (as opposed t o ' s p a c i o u s ' ; item 17, p = . 0 1 ) .

Finally, the theatre was j u d g e d to be somewhat more ' c o l o u r f u l ' (as

t h e o p p o s i t e of ' c o l o u r l e s s ' ) t h a n t h e c l a s s - r o o m ( I t e m 1 1 , p = . 0 6 ) .

No s i g n i f i c a n t differences w e r e f o u n d on items 5, 6 , 12, 15 and 16.

We c o n c l u d e t h a t t h e t w o rooms w e r e p e r c e i v e d d i f f e r e n t l y , at least in
some r e s p e c t s .

2.4.2. Emotions

Cluster analysis on items 18 t o 25 b r o u g h t to light three clusters,

which were named 'Interest', 'Positive Feelings' and 'Negative Feel
i n g s ' . T h e s e names may become clear b y i n s p e c t i n g all t h r e e c l u s t e r s :

cluster item
rij

22. c a p t u r e d
Interest 24. ( n o t ) b o r e d .56
23. i n v o l v e d
Positive 20. amused .47
Feelings 25. c h e e r f u l
Negative 19. i r r i t a t e d .44
Feelings 21. uncomfortable

T a b l e 3: C l u s t e r s in emotions ( c f . t a b l e 1)
 474

The hypothesis that theatrical space would influence experienced emo

tions, was tested on the three cluster-scores.

cluster m sd n t df P
Interest
class-room -.38 4.80 66 -.70 134 .24
theatre .17 4.35 70
Positive
Feelings
class-room 9.19 3.58 64 -1.86 6 132 .03
theatre 10.37 2.94 71
Negative
Feelings
class-room 11.34 2.99 64 1.66 132 .05
theatre 10.44 3.26 70

Table 4: Cluster scores emotion checklist in class-room v s . theatre

(cf. table 2)

There was no difference in interest between the two conditions. On

both other clusters differences were found. ( I t should be noted that
these clusters were not strongly associated, as can be seen in Appen
dix 2 ) . The direction of the differences, however, was contrary to
expectations. Spectators in the class-room experienced more positive,
and less negative feelings than theatre spectators d i d . On single i-
tems no differences were found.

We conclude that, as hypothesized, theatrical space does influence

experienced emotions, although the exact nature of the influence can
not be explained within the conceptual framework offered by the pro
ducers, and therefore creates a new problem.

2.4.3. Evaluation

The evaluation scale presented to subjects ranged from 1 ('extremely

bad') to 10 ('excellent'). At f i r s t glance, higher marks seem to be
given in the class-room than in the theatre:
 475

cluster m sd n t df p

class-room 7.47 1.45 61 1.47 130 .36

theatre 7.10 1.49 71

T a b l e 5: E v a l u a t i o n - m a r k s ( I t e m 26) in c l a s s - r o o m v s . theatre
( c f . t a b l e 2)

The differences between t h e c o n d i t i o n s m u s t , h o w e v e r , be a s c r i b e d t o

chance, so t h e hypothesis that differences in theatrical space affect
e v a l u a t i o n of t h e p e r f o r m a n c e is not s u p p o r t e d .

2 . 4 . 4 . A t t i t u d e and Identification

Two clusters were found in a n a l y s i n g a t t i t u d e - and identification-re

sponses:

cluster item

1. agree w i t h S t a n e k
3. agree w i t h both .38
For Stane 8. i d e n t i f y with Stanek
4. ( n o t ) agree w i t h neither
2. agree with Vanek
For V a n e k .56
9. i d e n t i f y w i t h V a n e k

T a b l e 6 : C l u s t e r s in a t t i t u d e and i d e n t i f i c a t i o n ( c f . t a b l e 1.)

T h e f i r s t c l u s t e r s h o u l d , in f a c t , be called 'More f o r S t a n e k ' , because

s p e c t a t o r s who a g r e e w i t h S t a n e k , tend to agree s l i g h t l y w i t h Vanek
as well (item 3). Furthermore they do not reject both views. So i t
can be said t h a t their opinion seems t o be somewhat more d i f f e r e n -
 476

t i a t e d t h a n t h a t of V a n e k ' s s u p p o r t e r s . For s i m p l i c i t y ' s sake t h o u g h ,

we shall name t h e c l u s t e r j u s t ' F o r S t a n e k ' .

T h e p r o d u c e r s assumed t h a t t h e r e w o u l d be no d i f f e r e n c e s in a t t i t u d e
and identification due to theatrical space. T h i s a s s u m p t i o n was sup
ported :

cluster m sd n z P

For S t a n e k
class-room 11.27 5.58 26 .80 .42
theatre 10.33 5.70 42
For Vanek
class-room 5.82 3.55 38 -.18 .86
theatre 5.67 3.13 55

T a b l e 7: A t t i t u d e a n d i d e n t i f i c a t i o n in c l a s s - r o o m v s . t h e a t r e .
z = normal a p p r o x i m a t i o n of M a n n - W i t n e y U - t e s t s t a t i s t i c ;
p = two tailed p r o b a b i l i t y ( c f . table 2 ) .

A second assumption of the producers, that spectators would not

make a choice between t h e c h a r a c t e r s , who w e r e t h o u g h t t o be p r e
sented in a balanced w a y , p r o v e d t o be w r o n g . Frequency-distribu
t i o n s a r e g i v e n f o r t h e responses t o item 1 ( ' a g r e e w i t h S t a n e k ' ) and
item 2 ( ' a g r e e with Vanek') in t h e class-room (fig. 2a) and in the
theatre ( f i g . 2b):
 477

Fig. 2a: Fig. 2b:

Percentages of responses in Percentages of responses in
the class-room the theatre
- - - Stanek (Item 1 , N=58) - - - Stanek (Item 1 , N=58)
Vanek (Item 2, N=56) Vanek (Item 2, N=56)

Fig. 2: 'The good guy bad guy' effect.

Percentages of responses to item 1 ('agree with Stanek';
dotted line) and item 2 ('agree with Vanek'; straight line)
in class-room (a) and theatre ( b ) .

A clear 'good guy bad guy' effect is shown. If the two space condi
tions are taken together, 78.90% of the spectators to some measure
disagree with Stanek, that is, have a score of 5, 6 or 7 on item 1.
On the other hand, 82.40% of all spectators agree with Vanek, that
 478

is, score 1 , 2, or 3 on item 2. Stanek's view seems to be seen as

objectionable, whereas Vanek's is very popular. The producers prob
ably did not succeed in realizing their ultimate aim: to stimulate c r i t
ical reflection upon the political system in their audience. Not only
were characters perceived in a highly stereotyped fashion, but there
were also few spectators who, to some degree, agreed with both views
(21.4% of all spectators, item 3) or rejected both views (22.4% of all
spectators, item 4 ) .

Finally, hardly any effects of theatrical space on 'critical reflection'

could be demonstrated. If the producers were right in assuming that
negative emotional stimulation, arising from theatrical space, would
result in critical reflection, one would expect that spectators in the
theatre, where more negative and less positive emotions were repor
t e d , would not make as clear a choice between Stanek and Vanek as
their fellows in the class-room d i d . From a comparison of f i g . 2a with
f i g . 2b it will be clear, however, that in both class-room and theatre
the 'good guy bad guy' effect is impressive. No significant differen
ces were found in attitude towards Stanek and Vanek on items 1 to 4.
Only one finding can be reported that supports a part of the mini-
theory in this respect: theatre spectators identified more with Stanek,
the bad g u y , than class-room spectators.

2.5. Explorations and discussion

The mini-theory, concerning the effects of Protest, put forward by

the producers, proved to be wrong on various points. By f u r t h e r ex
ploring our data we shall t r y to reformulate i t . To make a start, let
us summarize the results. First, the two rooms were perceived d i f f e r
ently, as predicted. Second, differential perception of theatrical space
resulted in different emotional experiences, as predicted, although the
nature of experienced feelings was contrary to expectations: more
positive feelings were reported in the class-room and more negative
ones in the theatre. T h i r d , no effects of differential perception of
 479

theatrical space on evaluation of the performance were found. And

fourth, hardly any influence of theatrical space on critical reflection
was found. Instead, a marked 'good guy bad guy' effect was brought
to light.

In formulating new hypotheses as to the effects of Protest we shall

concern ourselves with the following questions:

1. How should we explain the fact that more positive and less neg
ative feelings are reported by class-room spectators as compared
with theatre spectators?
2. Can we give reasons for our failure to detect differences in eval
uation between theatrical space conditions? and
3. Can we say more about the unpredicted 'good guy bad guy' effect
and its consequences for various sub-processes of reception?

The best answer to the f i r s t question seems to be that properties of

theatre-space that were expected to cause negative sensations, have,
in fact, had an opposite effect, possibly because spectators did not
expect such properties and were pleasantly surprised. This answer is
partly supported by the fact that class-room spectators judged the
room as less conventional (and more surprising) than theatre specta
tors did (Item 13, see section 2 . 4 . 1 . ) .

Further research as to the relation between perception of theatrical

space and aroused feelings is necessary. It is not at all clear, for
instance, to what extent the class-room was seen as more 'negative'.
The answer to this question partly depends upon the distinction be
tween perception and emotion one is willing to make; it can be ar
gued that responses to theatrical space are affectively loaden from the
start, in which case (negative) perceptions do not really precede
(positive) feelings (Cf. Zajonc 1980).

A clue to the answer to the second question, concerning our failure

to find differences in evaluation between theatrical space conditions
was obtained by the cluster-analysis on all items (See Appendix 2 ) . It
seems, that appreciation for the performance (Item 20) is linked with
feelings of interest and the 'good guy bad guy' effect (cluster 15),
rather than with perception of theatrical space.
 480

To get a clear picture of influences on evaluation-marks, an explora

tive multiple-regression analysis was carried out on cluster-scores.
Through such an analysis the contribution of a number of 'independ
ent' variables to some 'dependent' variable can be studied. It is pos
sible to assess the effect of one independent variable while controlling
possibly confounding effects of other ones (See for the details Evers-
mann et al. (1981) ). The effects of perception of theatrical space,
interest, positive and negative feelings, and attitude towards charac
ters on evaluation-marks can be summarized as follows:

Evaluation m = 6.98, sd = 1.81, n = 56. R2 = .54*

b F p

Interest -.24 29.42 .00 -.60

Negative aspects
.02 .39 .54 .07
theatre space
For Stanek -.07 4.78 .03 -.22
For Vanek -.06 .97 .33 -.11
Positive feelings -.07 1.15 .29 -.12
Negative feelings -.77 .02 .90 -.01

Table 8: Effects on Evaluation marks

b = regression coefficient, raging from -1.00 to 1.00, and
indicating the size of effect of the independent variable;
F = test statistic; p = probability under null-hypothesis
of 'no effect'; = standardized effect parameter. 'Interest
has a value of -.60' means that an increase of 1 standard-
deviation on cluster sum score for Interest causes a de
crease of .60 standard-deviation or 1.10 points on Evalua
tion marks (low Interest score means high degree of I n
terest).

The table shows that only Interest and Attitude to Stanek significant
ly contribute to Evaluation of the performance. Perception of t h e a t r i
cal space does not have any influence on evaluation-marks. It is re
markable that being pro Stanek instead of against him tends to
 481

heighten evaluation-marks. This might be seen as support to the pro

ducers, in that those ( f e w ! ) who are led to sympathize with the 'bad
guy', appreciate the performance more highly. The most clear-cut
conclusion to be drawn from table 8, however, is that of all measured
variables, feelings of interest have the strongest impact on evalua
tion. The more one feels interested, the better the performance is
appreciated. An obvious question is, then: which variables influence
Interest? A multiple regression analysis with Interest as the depend
ent variable showed, that it is the 'good guy' effect that most strong
ly determines feelings of Interest:

Interest m = .43, sd = 4.48, n = 56. R2 = .24

b F p

Negative aspects _ 16 1.71 .20 -.17

theatre space
For Stanek .13 1.56 .22 .16
For Vanek .65 13.33 .00 .47
Positive feelings -.06 .08 .78 -.04
Negative feelings -.21 1.18 .28 -.15

Table 9: Effects on Interest (cf. table 8 ) .

'For Vanek had a -value of .47' means that an increase of
1 standard deviation on cluster score 'For Vanek' causes an
increase of .47 standard deviation on Interest cluster score.

The more one is pro Vanek, the more one is likely to feel interested.
Perception of theatrical space does not influence Interest to a signifi
cant degree. This variable, that was originally attributed an impor
tant role, seems to have some effect only on Positive and Negative
feelings, as it is shown in tables 10a and b:
 482

(a) Positive feelings m = 9.98, sd = 3.17, n = 56. R2 = .09

b F p

Negative aspects
theatre space -.15 2.94 .09 .23

For Stanek -.04 .23 .63 .06

For Vanek -.15 1.21 .28 .15

( b ) Negative feelings m = 10.67, sd = 3 . 2 1 , n = 56. R2 = .08

b F p

Negative aspects
theatre space -.14 2.51 .12 -.22

For Stanek -.09 1.18 .28 -.15

For Vanek .69 .27 .61 .07

Table 10: Effects on Posivite (a) and Negative ( b ) feelings (cf. table 8)

Positive and Negative feelings are, however, not linked to either Eva
luation or Interest. Furthermore, the effect of (perceived) theatrical
space on these feelings is rather weak. Thus it should be concluded
once more, that theatrical space, in this performance, does not play a
role of any importance. Instead, it seems that attitude towards and
identification with Stanek and Vanek is a much more powerful factor,
determining the most important sub-processes of reception, as we
measured them.

We can now reformulate the original mini-theory by summarizing the

causal relationships between variables:
 483

PERCEPTION OF POSITIVE FEELINGS

THEATRICAL
SPACE
NEGATIVE FEELINGS

FOR VANEK
INTEREST EVALUATION

FOR STANEK

significant effect
non-significant effect

Fig. 3: Revised version of mini-theory

Now we can reconsider our second question: Can reasons be given for
our failure to detect differences in evaluation between theatrical space
conditions?

The answer is, t h e n , that we did not find differences in evaluation of

the performance between theatrical space-conditions, because percep
tion of theatrical space does not affect evaluation. Instead, apprecia
tion seems to be determined by the attitude towards the 'bad guy'
Stanek, and, f i r s t of a l l , by feelings of interest, t h a t , in t u r n , are
to a considerable degree determined by adherence to the 'good g u y ' ,
Vanek.

The t h i r d question, as to the nature, causes and consequences of the

'good guy bad guy' effect, appears to be a complicated one. Addition
al multiple-regression analysis (to be reported in Eversmann et a l .
(1981)) showed that attitudes to Vanek and Stanek are independent of
all other measured variables, which gives rise to the assumption that
these attitudes are determined by knowledge that exists prior to at
tending the performance. To be more specific, we suspect t h a t , with
 484

the majority of spectators, an opinion in favour of dissidents existed

in advance, probably due to a self-selection mechanism: 'anti-dissi
dents', already a minority in the population, who are by the way,
hard to identify as a group - are less likely to attend a performance
about dissidents made by a dissident. During the performance, Vanek
is seen as a 'real' dissident and consequently as 'good', whereas
Stanek is probably perceived as an insincere pretender, abusing the
'noble' Vanek to his selfish ends.

The consequences of the 'good guy bad guy' effect seems to have
been all-pervading. First, it replaced the intended critical reflection.
Second, it determined Interest and Attention to a large extent and,
indirectly, Evaluation of the performance. As they identified with
Vanek almost exclusively, the spectators were probably interested
until, rather late in the performance, Stanek's decision not to sign
appeared to be definite, so that Vanek's goal could not been reached.
This lasting feeling of being captured led to a favourable judgement
of the performance, having a stronger influence on Evaluation than
other factors, like perception of theatrical space, and Positive and
Negative feelings, which we surmise to have occurred more inciden
tally. The 'good guy' effect upon evaluation of the performance may
have been counteracted by a weaker influence. A minority of the
spectators recognized 'the other side' of Stanek and liked the perform
ance better, possibly because they understood and appreciated the
intention of the producers to realize a balanced view.

In sum, we assume that, counter to expectations, the interplay of

thematic aspects, that is, characteristics, motives and actions of the
characters as perceived by spectators, with pre-existing opinions,
superseded staging aspects and, of these, especially theatrical space,
in determining important outcomes of the reception process. Very
probably only a minority of the spectators were able to grasp the
meaning of Protest as intended by the producers.
 485

3. 'TOWARDS A NUCLEAR FUTURE' by Pip Simmons8

3 . 1 . Introduction and contents of the performance

The tentative explanations given for the results obtained with Protest
seem, at least p a r t l y , applicable to data from research into the recep
tion of another performance, also dealing with a politically, hot issue:
g
Towards a nuclear f u t u r e by the Pip Simmons Theatre Group . The
Dutch government tries to widen the debate on the problem of energy
supply in the f u t u r e , at least it says so. It is hoped f o r , that impor
tant decisions concerning this matter like, for instance, the extension
of the number of nuclear plants or the search for alternative sources
of energy, will be taken by society at large, instead of by a kongsee
of backroom boys and captains of i n d u s t r y . Furthermore, many a pol
itician, regarding the debate in its present form as a superficial ex
change of empty slogans, hopes that the argument will gain in clear
ness and rationality. Pip Simmons meant to contribute to the realiza
tion of this latter objective by his performance, that was produced in
collaboration with and presented at the Mickery Theatre in Amsterdam.

Two characters are central to the performance: one is an advocate of

nuclear energy and the other an opponent of nuclear energy. The
performance is based on factual material. Two rather recent events
that gave rise to public debate were chosen to serve as cases about
which both characters could give their view; one being the sudden
death of Karen Silkwood and the other the Harrisburg affair. Thus
the advocate of nuclear energy claims that Karen Silkwood died in a
car crash by drinking too much alcohol, whereas, in the opinion of
the opponent, she was murdered by industry when she was just about
to expose a plutonium scandal. These two cases are the basis for two
scenes in the middle of the performance. The performance ends as it
began: people are sitting in the d a r k , 'in the dark ages', coldly in
their blankets, asking themselves how to find a way out, but 'no one
will t u r n on the light'.
 486

The results of the investigation reported here are provisional out

comes of a larger analysis to be reported in Broeders & Schoenmakers
(forthcoming), so they have to be interpreted with some care.

3.2. Rationale and hypotheses

The producers did not want to present a plea for or against nuclear
energy. It is their conviction that both advocates and opponents use
manipulations techniques of which the impact is strengthened by the
mass media. By showing these, the producers aimed at demonstrating
that the debate on nuclear energy is not a real one.

To this end they tried to realize a balanced presentation of the two

opinions which are, therefore, given equal attention in the perfor
mance. Furthermore, the two points of view are presented in a scep
tic way (in the original philosophical meaning of the word) which,
according to the producers, forces spectators to reconsider them c r i t
ically. Sceptic presentation is elaborated as follows. The advocate
states his opinions in a thoughtful and rational way, minimizing the
dangers associated with nuclear energy. He is coached by a media
expert, in order to serve the interests of industry optimally. The
opponent uses opposite means to have his message come across. He
adresses himself directly to the audience, in singing songs, arousing
them emotionally, without indicating a solution to the energy problem.
He is assisted by a noisy group of supporters.

The intended effects of the performance led to the following set of

research hypotheses:

1. Spectators will not make a choice between the two characters, that
is, the impressions formed of the two characters will be equally
favourable.
2. The arguments favouring nuclear energy and those against nuclear
energy presented in the performance, will be seen as being in
balance.
3. It will be noticed that the intention of the producers is to carica
t u r e the debate on nuclear energy.
 487

3.3. Method

In this study essentially a survey approach was followed. Subjects

were all 1145 spectators attending Towards a Nuclear Future in the
period of October 9 to 27, 1979. 33% of these, or 379, yielded appro
priate data. 45,1% of them were females, 53,8% were males.

1. Perception of the characters was measured by a bipolar adjective

checklist. The characteristics, described by the adjectives were
determined after interviewing the producers. Eleven such charac
teristics resulted, the appropriateness of which was to be indicated
10
by respondents on a five point scale for each character . It was
predicted that none of all eleven subscales, differences would ap
pear between characters (implicitly it was assumed that all charac
teristics have some bearing on a favourable-unfavourable or good-
bad dimension).

2. Perceived balance between arguments for and against nuclear en

ergy was measured by a multiple choice item that read as follows:
'Do you think t h a t , in this performance, arguments for and against
nuclear energy were in balance, or do you t h i n k that either argu
ments for or arguments against nuclear energy were stressed?
1. arguments for and against in balance,
2. stress on arguments for nuclear energy,
3. stress on arguments against nuclear energy.'

It was predicted that a majority of the spectators would choose the

f i r s t alternative.

3. Perceived intention of the producers was measured as the degree

of agreement with three statements.
Responses were given at five point scales ranging from 'agree very
much' to 'disagree very much'. The statements were:
" 1 . In this performance the social debate on nuclear energy is
ridiculed.
2. In this performance arguments for nuclear energy are r i d i
culed.
3. In this performance arguments against nuclear energy are r i d i
culed.'
 488

Some control questions were asked as to the effect of variables that

might influence the reception-process like theatre experience, sex,
age, and education. The influence of such factors is discussed in
Broeders & Schoenmakers (forthcoming).

Finally, a number of questions were asked about the perceived quality

of the arguments, in order to investigate the spectators' claimed
'scepticism'. Furthermore it seemed interesting to ask spectators about
their own attitude towards nuclear energy. These questions will be
treated later. A copy of the complete questionnaire, that contained
more items than discussed in this article, can be found in Broeders
& Schoenmakers (fc), and in Towards a Nuclear Future (1980:
141-145). The questionnaires were handed out immediately after the
performance.

3.4. Some results

3 . 4 . 1 . Perception of the character

It is bewildering to see how little of the intended balance between the

perceptions of the two main characters was actually found.

Figure 4 shows the impressions formed of the advocate and the oppo
nent.
 489

HONEST DISHONEST

SERIOUS HUMOROUS

VALUABLE WORTHLESS

DYNAMIC STATIC

WARM COLD

PROFOUND SUPERFICIAL

TRUE UNTRUE

COLOURFULL COLOURLESS

EXCITING CALM

HEAVY LIGHT

INVOLVED ALOOF

Opponent of nuclear energy

Advocate of nuclear energy

Figure 4: Perception of advocate (dotted line) an opponent (straight

line) of nuclear energy (average scores)

On intuitive grounds the adjective-pairs have been rotated so, that

all leftmost adjectives represent 'favourable' characteristics, and r i g h t
most adjectives 'unfavourable' ones. It can readily be seen that pro
files, made up of average scores on all subscales differ for different
characters. The impression formed of the opponent is more favourable
than that of the advocate. The f i r s t hypothesis has not been suppor
ted. Contrary to expectations, spectators made a choice between the
characters in favour of the opponent. A clear 'good guy bad guy'
effect has occurred.
 490

3.4.2. Perceived balance between a r g u m e n t s f o r and a g a i n s t nuclear

energy

T a b l e 11 shows t h e p r o p o r t i o n of s p e c t a t o r s p e r c e i v i n g t h e a r g u m e n t s
as b e i n g in balance, biased in f a v o u r of n u c l e a r e n e r g y and biased
against nuclear e n e r g y , respectively:

1 . a r g u m e n t s f o r and a g a i n s t in balance 21.4%

2 . s t r e s s on a r g u m e n t s f o r n u c l e a r e n e r g y 3.4%
3 s t r e s s on a r g u m e n t s a g a i n s t n u c l e a r e n e r g y 71.8%

T a b l e 11 : P e r c e i v e d balance between a r g u m e n t s
Percentages of r e s p o n d e n t s a g r e e i n g , t o some d e g r e e , with
statement.

Contrary to prediction, a majority of the spectators perceives the

arguments against nuclear e n e r g y as o v e r r u l i n g t h e a r g u m e n t s in f a
v o u r of i t . O n l y a m i n o r i t y recognizes t h e i n t e n d e d b a l a n c e . T h e sec
o n d h y p o t h e s i s is n o t c o n f i r m e d .

3.4.3. P e r c e i v e d i n t e n t i o n of producers

T h e data show t h a t , c o n t r a r y to t h e i n t e n t i o n s of t h e p r o d u c e r s , the

d e b a t e , as staged in t h e p e r f o r m a n c e , was not seen as a c a r i c a t u r e .
 491

'agree ( v e r y
m sd n much)'

1 . 'Social debate ridiculed' 3.78 1.07 352 20.1

2. 'Arguments for ridiculed' 3.22 1.08 362 36.4
3. 'Arguments against
3.90 .92 358 11.2
ridiculed'

Table 12: Perceived intention of the producers.

m = average score on rating scale from 1 ('agree very
much') to 5 ('disagree very much'), with 3 meaning agree/
nor disagree; sd = standard deviation, n = total number of
respondents to statement.

3.5. Explorations and discussion

In the discussion of the results presented in the previous section we

shall f i r s t t r y to shed some light on the question what intention and
what opinion the audience attributed to the producers. Then we shall
t r y to speculate about the reasons for the obvious misinterpretation of
intention and opinion. Finally, we shall f u r t h e r examine the 'good guy
bad guy' effect as it occurred in this performance. It should be
stressed that most explorations given below are partly speculative,
awaiting f u r t h e r analysis of our data and f u r t h e r research on this
subject.

If the audience did not recognize the attempt of the producers to r i d i

cule the debate on nuclear energy in its present form, then what did
they see as the intention of the producers? Very likely, the intention
attributed to the producers is associated with the opinion producers
were thought to have. Anticipating the possibility that the producers
would be understood wrongly, we asked spectators to rate the follow
ing statement:

'In this performance it becomes clear that the Pip Simmons Theatre
Group is against nuclear energy.'
 492

By far the majority of all 379 spectators, that is, eighty percent of
them, agreed or agreed very much with the statement. It seems very
plausible, for that matter, that Towards a Nuclear Future was held for
a plea against nuclear energy, or, in other words, that it was the
intention of the producers to have their view against nuclear energy
propagated.

Now to the possible reasons for this complete misunderstanding. They

were already partly mentioned as results. First an equally favourable
perception of the advocate and the opponent, especially on the sub-
scales representing the character's trustworthiness, is necessary in
order to conclude that the producers are neither f o r , nor against
nuclear energy. This condition was not satisfied, as we have seen.
Instead, a 'good guy bad guy' effect occurred, which we will discuss
in more detail later.

Second, to understand the view of the producers, the spectators

should have perceived a balance between the arguments, which they
did not, as was shown above. A close look at the script on which the
performance was based, makes clear that about equal amounts of text
are devoted to arguments favouring nuclear energy, and to counter
arguments. Thus, the arguments for and against must, somehow,
have had differential impact. One possible explanation for this fact is
that the 'good guy bad guy' effect causes arguments to be judged
selectively, that is, arguments put forward by the 'good' opponent
are seen as more important, or more ' t r u e ' , than those presented by
the 'bad' advocate. Another factor that, in combination with 'the good
guy bad guy' effect could have contributed to the perceived lack of
balance is the attitude towards nuclear energy that existed prior to
the performance. There is some reason to assume, that a majority of
the spectators is, to some extent, opposed to nuclear energy, as most
of them read relatively leftist-oriented papers and magazines, whereas
only a minority reports to read newspapers and weeklies that are
known as conservative:
 493

Largest leftist1 Largest leftist2 Largest conservative3 Largest conservative4

newspaper weekly newspaper weekly

77% 53% 4% 5%
(64%) (53%) (7%) (5%)

1 De Volkskrant
2 Vrij Nederland
3 De Telegraaf
2
Elsevier's weekblad and Elsevier's Magazine taken together

Table 13: Percentages of all 379 respondent reading newspapers and

weekly magazines.
The bracketed percentages represent the regular Mickery
audience.

It is, furthermore, very probable that the performance has actively

attracted anti-nuclearists. Comparing the spectators of Towards a
Nuclear Future with the regular Mickery audience, it can be conclu
ded that the former group is younger and has more students in i t .
Also they read the leftmost newspaper in Holland more than the aver
age Mickery audience does (see bracketed percentages, table 13).
(The latter two facts were reported in Intomart 1980. The regular
Mickery audience also consists of leftists, as shown by the table.
This may be due to the fact that Mickery is known for its 'avantgarde
policy. )

Third, the way the arguments were presented may have contributed
to their being perceived as unbalanced. It is difficult to distinguish
this effect from the already mentioned 'good guy bad guy' effect,
b u t , for clarity's sake, we will treat them seperately. The arguments
favouring nuclear energy, then, were presented in an exclusively
verbal way, whereas the arguments against were presented more live
ly and saliently as played actions. A s , furthermore, a lot of, intelli
gent, 'theatrical violence' was used, especially in the case-scenes
about Karen Silkwood and H a r r i s b u r g , where not only many special
sound-(music!) and light-effects were used, but also some very spec-
 494

tacular attributes (a car, a nuclear plant control-room) and as the

staged events themselves were t h r i l l f u l in nature - a car crash, a
near-'China syndrome' - it is almost certain that the way arguments
against were presented had a much stronger emotfonal impact. These
arguments were, therefore, probably seen as more important, and as
more indicative of the opinion of the producers, also because specta
tors may have had the impression that more effort had been spent by
the producers in realizing the scenes supporting the opponent's view.

Our speculations as to the reasons why spectators did not grasp the
intention of the producers can be summarized as follows:

staging perception of
characteristics arguments
perceived intentional
opinion of producers
pre-existing perception of
attitude towards characters
nuclear energy

Fig. 5: Hypothetical factors influencing perceived intentions.

The intention of the producers was, wrongly, perceived as an attempt

to propagate an anti-nuclearist view. At least two factors may have
contributed to this misunderstanding. First, arguments were seen as
biased towards the anti-nuclearist position. Second, associated with
the latter phenomenon, the opponent of nuclear energy was seen as
more attractive than the advocate. Both the 'good argument' effect
and the 'good guy' effect may have resulted from, among other
t h i n g s , the way arguments were presented in the performance, that
is, from staging characteristics, and from pre-existing attitudes, and
specifically, an attitude against nuclear energy.

Finally, the 'good guy bad guy' effect. As figure 5 shows this effect
may, in our opinion, have strongly influenced the intentions a t t r i b u
ted to the producers by the audience. Furthermore we believe, as can
also be seen from the diagram, that the perception of the arguments
 495

and the impression of the characters may have interacted. The emo
tionally more appealing arguments against nuclear energy have, pos
sibly, made the opponent more attractive (colourful, exciting, dynam
ic, involved, warm), but a reverse relationship can be assumed to
exist as well: a favourable perception of the opponent will have made
his contributions more salient. Everything that contributed to the
perception of the arguments, was also related to the perception of the
characters. First, the presentation of the arguments was realized by
way of the two characters. Arguments were presented differently. So
it can be said that the two characters differed on "built-in' character
istics, such as rationality and emotionality. By ' b u i l t - i n ' we mean that
such features were willingly varied by the producers. One very impor
tant built-in characteristic may have been the apparent 'pre-wiredness'
of the advocate. The advocate was coached by a media expert. This
fact could have seriously affected his credibility, especially since the
opponent seems to act spontaneously.

Second, 'good guy bad guy' stereotyping will have resulted from at
titudes towards nuclear energy existing prior to seeing the perform
ance. We assume that the majority of spectators is, more or less, a-
gainst nuclear energy, which explains why most spectators see the
opponent as the good g u y .

The influence of attitude on perception of the characters can be i l

lustrated somewhat f u r t h e r . We asked spectators about their attitude
towards nuclear energy only after the performance. If it is assumed,
as we do, that this attitude did not change dramatically during the
performance - an assumption supported by most outcomes of mass
communication research - then it should be expected that spectators
opposed to nuclear energy see the opponent in a more favourable way
than those who are for nuclear energy, and second, that spectators
who are not against nuclear energy, see the advocate as more favour
able than anti-nuclearists do.
 496
HONEST DISHONEST

SERIOUS HUMOROUS

VALUABLE WORTHLESS

DYNAMIC STATIC

WARM COLD

PROFOUND SUPERFICIAL

TRUE UNTRUE

COLOURFULL COLOURLESS

EXCITING CALM

HEAVY LIGHT

INVOLVED ALOOF

Opponent of nuclear energy as seen by those who oppose

nuclear energy.
Opponent of nuclear energy as seen by those who favour
nuclear energy.
Advocate of nuclear energy as seen by those who oppose
nuclear energy.
Advocate of nuclear energy as seen by those who favour
nuclear energy.

Fig. 6: Perception of characters by anti- and pro-nuclearists.

(Spectators were divided in two groups according to responses to the

statement: 'Under all circumstances I am against nuclear energy'.
Those agreeing ( v e r y much) were treated as anti-nuclearists, whereas
all others were categorized as 'favouring nuclear e n e r g y ' . )

The f i r s t assumption is confirmed: spectators who are against nuclear

 497

energy, see the opponent as more favourable (be it slightly) than

spectators 'favouring' nuclear energy. The second one is not as clear
ly supported. Another interesting phenomenon, however, emerges
here. Anti-nuclearists perceive the characters as more different than
those favouring nuclear energy, or in other words: a stronger 'good
guy bad guy' effect is found with spectators who do not under all
circumstances oppose nuclear energy than with spectators who do not
under all circumstances oppose nuclear energy. This finding may be
an artifact of the way spectators were divided into opponents and
advocates of nuclear energy, as the opponents agreed with a rather
extreme statement. It shows, however, that attitude towards the issue
is one of the determinants of the 'good guy bad guy' effect. The ex
act nature of the mechanism underlying it cannot be inferred from the
present data.

To summarize the discussion, we believe that the data consistently

support the conclusion t h a t , contrary to the intention of the produ
cers who meant to show that the debate is a fake, Towards a Nuclear
Future was held for a plea against nuclear energy. Furthermore, it
seems that staging characteristics and built-in features of characters
in interaction with pre-existing attitudes were responsible for the mis
interpretation of the performance.

Additional and more sophisticated research is needed to resolve the

numerous circular reasonings that inevitably arose in our attempts to
explain results obtained from a rather modest survey design. It is,
for instance, not at all clear whether the perception of characters is
guided by the perception of arguments or, vice versa, the perception
of arguments is coloured by the impression formed of the characters.
Another example of such a circular reasoning is the status of the at
titude towards nuclear energy. Is this attitude influenced by the per
ception of characters and the perception of arguments, or are these
perceptions influenced by the attitude, or are both influences at work
simultaneously? Such questions can only be answered by refined ex
perimentations, in which separate sub-processes are influenced one at
a time.
 498

4. General discussion and concluding remarks

We have tried to explore some aspects of the reception of two perform

ances that were meant to criticize current thought on politically rele
vant controversial issues. In both cases the producers made use of
two opposing characters, each representing a different point of view
on the issue. Furthermore they did not intend to propagate either
view. We hope that it was made clear that these performances were
largely misunderstood by the majority of the spectators. Both Protest
and Towards a nuclear future gave, unmistakably, rise to a 'good
guy bad guy' effect. The spectators of Protest took part with Vanek
and rejected Stanek and his view; the audience of Towards a nuclear
f u t u r e formed on the whole a much more favourable opinion of the
opponent of nuclear energy than of the advocate.

This 'good guy bad guy' effect may, along with other factors, as we
have seen, have thwarted the intentions of the producers. It is very
unlikely that Protest contributed to a critical reconsideration of the
political system that produces dissidents and fellow-travellers. It is
evident that Towards a nuclear f u t u r e was seen as a plea against n u
clear energy instead of as an attempt to cast some doubt on the value
of the debate in its present form.

About the ultimate causes of the 'good guy bad guy' effect, we can
only speculate. It might be interesting to devote some attention to
these, however. The search for heroes and villains may be a c u l t u r
ally determined or even universal response to the perception of com
plex events. It becomes stronger when such events are perceived as
fictional, like when reading a book or attending a theatre perform
ance. Introspectively, it seems plausible t h a t , under such circum
stances, there is a strong tendency in people to identify with a 'good'
12
character, a character for instance, fighting for a noble cause , like
Vanek and the opponent who appear not to act out of self-interest.
We have seen (table 9) that taking part with the 'good guy' may
cause longer lasting pleasant feelings of interest and of involvement,
which determine, to an important degree, satisfaction with the atten-
 499

ded performance. It may even be so that for some groups of specta

tors it can be said that one of the very reasons they go to the thea
t r e , or to the movies, at all, is just to identify and empathize with a
'good g i r l ' or 'good guy' and to dissociate themselves with the 'villain'
(although our data with respect to the latter phenomenon, were not
as clear as they were with respect to the former). This identification
is, in most cases an effect foreseen and often, even aimed at by pro
ducers. A lot of f u r t h e r research on this point is needed. It would
be worthwhile, for instance, to investigate the effects of attempts to
reduce the possibilities for identification offered by characters, in
modern theatre, as for example Brecht's alienation effects try to
bring about.

If our speculation that the 'good guy bad guy' phenomenon results
from a basic mechanism in the reception of fictional material is cor
rect, then producers who t r y to circumvent the effect may have a
hard time. Nevertheless, our analysis brought to light some factors
that may be relevant to the effect. More knowledge about these fac
tors may eventually be helpful in avoiding undesirable effects. First
the spectators' attitude prior to the performance, may determine who
is seen as the 'good' and who as the 'bad g u y ' . Furthermore, as we
have seen before, the size of the effect may vary with preexisting
attitude. Our suggestion is that it is very important for theatre-pro
ducers to gather some global knowledge as to attitudes existing in
their ( f u t u r e ) audience. Also they have to consider the possibility of
selective attendance to their performance. It is, as we have shown,
very well conceivable, that performances dealing with controversial
subjects may selectively attract people who have more or less the
same attitude towards it while, at the same time, repelling potential
spectators holding a different opinion. Often titles and short summa
ries of performances dealing with political issues may create the im
pression that producers take side with those who have 'made' the is
sue, that is, the group who f i r s t tried to make it public (the pro-
dissidents in the case of 'dissidence in Eastern Europe' and the anti-
nuclearists in the case of nuclear e n e r g y ) .
 500

On the subject of selective attendance more research is needed. Also

very few is known of related mechanisms. It is our feeling, for i n
stance, that people tend to search for some information about the po
sition of the producers before attending political theatre performances
of movies. If for instance, the producer was known to be a notorious
fascist we ourselves would not consider attending a performance made
by his hand. If the intentions of the producer, however, are com
pletely unknown, he or she may be given the benefit of the doubt.
Knowledge about the policy of the theatre presenting the performance
may support the decision. Spectators not acquainted with Pip Simmons
may have been guided by the well-known fact, that the Mickery The
atre has a strong preference for experimental performances sometimes
characterized by a critical political view.

In much cases, we should predict, performances tend to be perceived

in line with pre-existing attitudes. These hypotheses have to be i n
vestigated f u r t h e r . They indicate, however, the possible importance
of attitudes and their effects on selective attendance of performances;
both factors seem to determine the 'good guy bad g u y ' , and other
effects t h a t , in some cases may blur the meaning intended in advance.
They should, however, be avoided, if the producers aim at a critical
reconsideration of the issue at hand, as with Protest and Towards a
nuclear f u t u r e . )

A second factor, obviously related to the 'good guy bad guy' phenom
enon, has to do with the performance itself. Staging-characteristics of
(aspects of) the show may give rise to particular 'good guy bad guy'
effects. We suspect that in Towards a nuclear f u t u r e the emotional
presentation of arguments against nuclear energy may have interacted
with pre-existing attitudes in making the opponent a 'hero'. Further
more, it has been shown that the 'good guy bad guy' effect was much
stronger than the supposed effects of theatrical space. Although f u r
ther research is needed here, we think that it should be possible to
overcome 'good guy bad guy' effects with theatrical means, for i n
stance, by stereotyping the character or characters in a direction
opposite the bias that may be expected to affect perception due to
 501

pre-existing attitudes. As a modest illustration of such a desirable ef

fect resulting from counter-stereotyping we can consider the impres
sions formed of characters by the nuclearist. The 'good guy bad guy'
effect on these spectators seemed less marked. They saw a 'favour
able' character opposing their point of view and an 'unfavourable' one
propagating their opinion.

The role of the characters as defined in the play, that is, thematic
aspects of the performance may set limits to thes counter-effects. It
is, for example, difficult to see how Stanek could have been made to
look really 'honest' or 'credible' given the inalterable fact that he is
not willing to sign a petition that puts his comfortable position into
jeopardy. In other words, in some cases, the 'story' underlying the
performance will give rise to 'good guy bad guy' effects, in which
cases the counter-effects of purely theatrical means may only be mar
ginal.

But before the role of theatrical means in relation to that of thematic

aspects can be pinpointed, more should be known about perceived
qualities of characters that add to the 'good guy bad guy' effect.
Further research on these qualities could start from the more or less
implicit ideas about them, that theatre makers seem to have. Once
there is known more about such qualities, producers can t r y to stere
otype characters stronger than their audience will do, and in the op
posite direction, for we hope it has been made clear, that, if you do
not stereotype your characters, your audience will readily do it for
you. Another, self-evident, way out is to abandon altogether the idea
of propagating a 'meta-viewpoint' by way of two opposing characters
each representing one of two views.

Finally, some lines should be spent on the merits of reception-re

search. Although our explanations were only tentative, we feel that
reported results show that as soon as intentions of producers can be
said to be more 'subtle', that is, to go beyond the current views,
they run the risk of being misunderstood completely. Furthermore, we
have tried to indicate some factors responsible for this misinterpreta-
 502

tion. It can be concluded that rather simple research designs and

analyses (especially the modest ones applied to Towards a nuclear
f u t u r e ) can yield valuable information.

As was stated earlier, a more detailed explanation of 'good guy bad

guy' effects must await more refined research in which the effect of
seperate variables is studied more in detail. In our opinion, attempts
along these lines, would be more f r u i t f u l if preceded by a theoretical
analysis of perceived qualities that play a role in impression formation
of characters. Some such theorizing has already been put forward in
theories of mass communication. However, as yet, theoretical work in
this field has been too global and it has yielded too many inconsisten
cies (cf. Wiegman, De Roon and Snyders 1981: 233ff.) to be of any
help in analyzing impression-formation in the reception of theatre per
formances.

Notes

1 Research on Protest was carried out by Eversmann, Nagel,

Schoenmakers and Tan (1981). A full report in Dutch is f o r t h
coming. Those interested in the details of both the production
and the research are referred to this report.
2 The performance Protest of Vclav Havel was produced by the
Institute for Theatre Research Amsterdam. It was performed from
february 25 - march 1 , 1980.
Actors: Hans Daalder and Theo van den Oever, Design: Peter
Eversmann, Nelly Nagel, Cilia Kortman, Program: John Reinders,
Play b i l l : Frank Peynenburg, Production: Simone Wiegel, Direct-
ing-dramaturgy: Sjaak Hendrikx, Ruud Loos, Marleen Tonnis,
Supervision: Henry Schoenmakers.
3 As it was called by Michael Seamell in TLS, February 2, 1980,
p.235.
4 Item-scores correlating negatively with the cluster were substrac-
ted.
5 To this end median-tests were applied to each item, see Evers
mann et al. (1981).
6 As the variances of the scores in the two condition differed sig
nificantly (F = 1.48, p = .11), this hypothesis was tested apply-
 503

ing a Mann Whitney U - t e s t . T h e value given here is a Z - v l u e

resulting from normal approximation.
7 A non technical treatment of (multiple) repression-analysis is
found in Kerlinger ( 1 9 7 3 ) .
8 Research on the performance was carried out by Broeders
& Schoenmakers. A full report in Dutch is forthcoming. T h e t e x t
of the performance, reviews and a f i r s t report on the reception-
research is published as: Towards a nuclear f u t u r e ( 1 9 8 0 ) . Those
interested in the details of both the production and the research
are r e f e r r e d to these publications.
9 T h e performance Towards a nuclear f u t u r e was produced by the
Mickery T h e a t r e , Amsterdam and the Pip Simmons T h e a t r e G r o u p ,
London. It was presented at the Mickery T h e a t r e , Amsterdam
from October, 9 - 27, 1979.
Cast: Roderic Leigh, Peter O l i v e r , Rod Beddall, Helena Fransson,
Pete Gibson, Jessi Gordon, Chris J o r d a n , Sally Landsdale,
Sheila B u r n e t t .
L i g h t i n g : John R i c k e r , Sound: Hans van O s , Chief T e c h n . : Rob
van B o r k , Set c o n s t n . : Kym Newell, Comp, designes: Andrew
McAlpine, Production manager: Yvonne Bon, Music: Chris J o r d a n ,
Rod Beddall, Pete Givson, Research: Lambertus Lambregts, Steve
Whitson, Direction: Pip Simmons, Exec. Producer: Ritsaert ten
Cate.
10 Those technically interested in the use of bipolar adjective check
lists as a measurement device, are r e f e r r e d to the work of Osgood
et a l . (1957) on the 'semantic d i f f e r e n t i a l ' .
11 Not all differences were tested on significance so f a r , and they
a r e , for t h a t matter, to be i n t e r p r e t e d with some c a r e .
12 See also Tan ( 1 9 7 9 ) .
 504

Appendix 1: Questionnaure used in reception research of 'Protest'

(The original Dutch version contained some introduc
t o r y and explanatory remarks that are omitted here)

agree disagree
completely completely
1. I agress with Stanek's 1-2-3-4-5-6-7
point of view
2. I agree with Vanek's 1-2-3-4-5-6-7
point of view
3. I agree with both 1-2-3-4-5-6-7
points of view
4. I disagree with either 1-2-3-4-5-6-7
. .
point of view
5. I likes to see my fellow- 1-2-3-4-5-6-7
spectators continuously
6. I sat close to the actors 1-2-3-4-5-6-7
7. I had the feeling that
the spectators were seated 1-2-3-4-5-6-7
closely together
8. I identified with Stanek 1-2-3-4-5-6-7
9. I identified with Vanek 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7

To me, the room seemed

10. c h i l l y c o s y

11. c o l o u r f u l g r e y

12. f u n c t i o n a l n o n - f u n c t i o n a l

13. c o n v e n t i o n a l s u r p r i s i n g

14. s m a l l l a r g e

15. i l l u s i v e i l l u s i o n - d i s t u r b i n g

16. t e n s e r e l a x e d

17. spacious close

 505

During the performance I felt

agree disagree
completely completely
18.' c o n f u s e d 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7
19. i r r i t a t e d 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7
20. amused 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7
21. uncomfortable 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7
22. c a p t u r e d 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7
23. i n v o l v e d 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7
24. b o r e d 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7
25. c h e e r f u l 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7

Please i n d i c a t e below y o u r a p p r e c i a t i o n of t h e p e r f o r m a n c e b y
a s s i g n i n g a n u m b e r between 1 and 10, 1 meaning ' e x t r e m e l y b a d '
a n d 10 ' e x c e l l e n t ' .

26. ...
27. Have y o u been 1. seated
2. standing
28. A r e y o u 1 . female
2 . male
 506

Appendix 2 - Cluster Diagram 'Protest'

1. AGREE STANEK

3. AGREE BOTH

8. IDENTIFY STANEK.

4. AGREE NEITHER ONE

6. CLOSE TO ACTORS

14. SMALL - LARGE

2. AGREE VANEK

9. IDENTIFY VANEK

22. FEELING CAPTURED.

24. FEELING BORED

23. FEELING INVOLVED

26. EVALUATION

12. FUNCTIONAL

5. AGREEABLE TO SEE SPECTATORS

15. ILLUSIVE

28. MALE - FEMALE

7. SPECTATORS CLOSE TO EACH OTHER,

10. CHILLY - COSY

11. COLOURFUL - GREY

17. SPACIOUS - CLOSE

16. TENSE - RELAXED

20. FEELING AMUSED.

25. FEELING CHEERFUL

13. CONVENTIONAL

27. SEATED - STANDING.

18. FEELING CONFUSED.

19. FEELING IRRITATED.

21. FEELING UNCOMFORTABLE

 507

References

Broeders, T . , H. Schoenmakers 1980

'Laat het Mickerypubliek zich inpakken door theatrale trucs?'
( i n ) Towards a Nuclear f u t u r e , pp.122-146.
Everitt, B.S. 1974
Cluster analysis (London).
Eversmann, P., N. Nagel, H. Schoenmakers, E. T a n , 1981
Protest (Amsterdam: Instituut voor Theaterwetenschap).
Intomart 1980
Mickery-publiek seizoen 1979/80 (Amsterdam).
Kerlinger, F.M. 1973
Foundations of behavorial research (London).
Osgood, C h . E . , G.J. Suci, P.H. Tannenbaum 1957
The measurement of meaning (Urbana).
Schoenmakers, H. 1980
'Receptie-onderzoek in het kader van voorstellingsanalyse 1 . (Am
sterdam: Instituut voor Theaterwetenschap), (Receptie-onder
zoek en voorstellingsanalyse-2).
Schoenmakers, H. 1982
'The Tacit majority in the Theatre', ( i n ) E. Hess-Lttich ( e d . )
Mulitmedial Communication, v o l . 2: Theatre Semiotics ( T b i n g e n ) ,
pp.100-155.
Tan, E. 1979
'Sociaal-wetenschappelijk publieksonderzoek in het kader van
voorstellingsanalyse 1 (Amsterdam: Institut voor Theaterweten
schap), (Receptie-onderzoek en voorstellingsanalyse-1 ).
Tan, E. 1982
'Cognitive Processes in reception', ( i n ) E. Hess-Lttich ( e d . )
Multimedial Communication, v o l . 2: Theatre Semiotics ( T b i n g e n ) ,
pp.156-203.
Towards a nuclear f u t u r e 1980
(The Pip Simmons Theatre Group I I ) Amsterdam (Mickery Dos
sier 4 ) .
Wiegman, O . , A . D . de Roon, T h . Snijders 1981
Meningen en media; politieke opponenten in een realistisch exper
iment (Deventer).
Zajonc, R.B. 1980
'Feeling and T h i n k i n g ; Preferences need no inferences', Ameri
can Psychologist, 35, 2, p.151-175.
 508

Photographs
(Courtesy of Bob van Dantzig, Amsterdam)

1. Protest performed in the class-room (photo: Nelly Nagel).

2. Protest performed in the University theatre (photo: Nelly Nagel).
3. Towards a nuclear f u t u r e , on the foreground the antinuclearist
(photo: Bob van Dantzig).
4. Towards a nuclear f u t u r e , on the foreground right the pro-nuc-
learist (photo: Bob van Dantzig).
V. B I B L I O G R A P H Y
 SELECTIVE AND INCOMPLETE BIBLIOGRAPHY 1 OF
ANALYTICAL APPROACHES TO DRAMA AND THEATRE*

Aloysius Van Kesteren

1 Alexandrescu, Sorin
1981 'Some informal remarks on the 'theatrical' use of lan
guage' (paper read at the First International Conference
of the International Association of the Performing Arts
(IASPA), Brussels, 23-25 A p r i l , 1981) (see Degrs 27/
28, 1981/82).
2 Alter, Jean
1979a 'Coding Dramatic Efficiency in Plays: From Text to
Stage', Semiotica 28, 3/4, pp.247-257.
3 1979b 'Code Transformations in Theatre' (paper read at the
IInd International Conference of the International As
sociation for Semiotic Studies (IASS), Vienna, 2-6 July,
1979).
4 1980 'For a Semiotic Theatricality of the t e x t : the case of
Waiting for Godot' (paper read at the BCLA-conference
The Languages of the A r t s , Canterbury, 17-19 Decem
ber, 1980).
5 1981a 'From Text to Performance; Semiotics of Theatricality',
Poetics Today 2, 3.
6 1981b 'Theatre as A r t and Sport: Performance and/or per
formance' (paper read at IASPA I, Brussels).
7 Amalric, Jean
1979 'Modle actantiel et investissement thmatique: quelques
remarques sur Arms and the Man, CERVE 9/10, pp.87-
94.

* This bibliography is composed and written during my stay at NIAS,

Wassenaar, Holland, 1980/81.
 512

8 Amossy, Ruth
1978 'La f o n c t i o n de la p a r o d i e dans Ie langage t h t r i c a l :
p a r o d i e et a u t o p a r o d i e dans Macbett de l o n e s c o ' , Degrs
13, j - j 2 .
9 1981a 'Semiotics and T h e a t e r : Introduction', Poetics T o d a y 2,
p.3.
10 1981b ' T o w a r d s a R h e t o r i c o f t h e S t a g e . T h e Scenic Realiza
t i o n of V e r b a l C l i c h ' s ' , Poetics T o d a y 2 , p . 3 .
11 Amossy, Ruth ( e d . )
1981 Semiotics and T h e a t e r (= Poetics T o d a y 2 , 3) .
12 A s i a n , Odette
1980 'De G i o r g i o S t r e h l e r a V i c t o r G a r c i a ' ( p a p e r r e a d at t h e
Conference T h a t r a l i t . T h e o r y of Drama a n d P e r f o r m
a n c e , 14-16 N o v e m b e r , 1980, T o r o n t o ) .
13 A v i g a l , Shoshana
1978 'La r e l a t i v i s a t i o n du rfrent dans la communication
t h t r a l e ' , Degrs 15.
14 A v i g a l , S h o s h a n a , and S h l o m i t h Rimmon-Kenan
1981 'What Do B r o o k ' s B r i c k s Mean? T o w a r d a T h e o r y of
' M o b i l i t y ' of Objects in T h e a t r i c a l D i s c o u r s e ' , Poetics
T o d a y 2 , 3.
15 Baetens B e a r d s m o r e , Hugo
1970 'A s o c i o l i n g u i s t i c i n t e r p r e t a t i o n of Pygmalion', English
Studies 60, pp.712-719.
16 B a l , Mieke
1981 ' D r a m a t e k s t e n ' [Drama T e x t s ] , ( i n ) J . v a n L u x e m b u r g ,
M. Bal en W. W e s t s t e i j n , I n l e i d i n g in de L i t e r a t u u r w e
tenschap (Muiden: Coutinho), pp.166-182.
17 B a l e a , IIie
1981 'Discours, texte, thatralit de l'opra' (paper read at
IASPA I , B r u s s e l s ) .
18 Barthes, Roland
1979 ' B a r t h e s in T h e a t r e ' , T h e a t r e Q u a r t e r l y 33, p p . 2 5 - 3 0 .
19 B a r t s c h , K u r t , Uwe B a u r u n d Dietmar G o l t s c h n i g g
1976 Horvath-Diskussion ( K r o n b e r g / T s . Scriptor).
20 B a s n e t t - M c G u i r e , Susan
1980 ' A n I n t r o d u c t i o n to T h e a t r e S e m i o t i c s ' , T h e a t r e Quarter-
ly 38, p p . 4 7 - 5 3 .
21 ... 'On T r a n s l a t i n g Racine' (ms.).
22 Baumann, Winfried
1977 Die R e p l i k e n im d r a m a t i s c h e n T e x t . D a r g e s t e l l t an 'Den
D e u t s c h e n ' v o n Leon K r u c z k o w s k i (Frankfurt/M. etc.:
Peter L a n g ) .
 513

23 1978 'Sprachfunktion u n d S p r e c h a k t im D r a m a ' . Die Welt d e r

Slaven.
24 B a y e r , U.
1980 ' T h e a t e r als S u p e r i s a t i o n s p r o z e b e r einem h e t e r o g e n e n
Mittel r e p e r t o i r e ' , (in) A . Eschbach und W. Rader
( H r s g . ) , L i t e r a t u r s e m i o t i k II ( T b i n g e n : N a r r ) , p p . 2 0 3 -
259.
25 B e j e l , Emilio
1978 'Las secuencias e s t r u c t u r a l e s de Bodas de S a n g r e ' , Dis
positio 3, pp.381-390.
26 Betten, A.
1977 'Moderne d e u t s c h e D r a m e n - u n d Filmdialoge u n d ihr
V e r h l t n i s zum s p o n t a n e n G e s p r c h ' , ( i n ) G. D r a c h m a n n
( H r s g . ) , A k t e n d e r 2., S a l z b u r g e r F r h j a h r s t a g u n g f r
Linguistik (Tbingen), pp.357-371.
27 B e t t e t i n i , Gianfranco
1977 ' A p p u n t i p e r una semiotica del t e a t r o ' , ( i n ) G. Bettetini
& M. De M a r i n i s , p p . 9 - 3 2 .
28 1978 'Intervento', Versus 2 1 .
29 B e t t e t i n i , G i a n f r a n c o , and Marco De M a r i n i s
1977 T e a t r o e comunicazione ( R i m i n i , F i r e n z e : Guaraldi).
30 B i b l i o t e c a t e a t r a l e 20
4978 Dramma/Spettacolo.
31 Bien, Gnther
1976 'Der Handlungsbegriff Hegels', Poetica 8 , 3 / 4 , pp.339-
343.
32 B i j e l j a c - B a b i c , R.
1981 ' U t i l i s a t i o n de mthodes s c i e n t i f i q u e s dans l ' t u d e de
l ' e x p r e s s i o n g e s t u e l l e s p o r t i v e et t h t r a l e ' ( p a p e r read
at IASPA I , B r u s s e l s ) .
33 B l i n , Michle
1976 'La f o n c t i o n de la r p t i t i o n dans Le P r o f e s s e u r T a r a n n e :
Essai d ' a p p r o c h e s m i o - a n a l y t i q u e d ' u n e pice d ' A d a -
m o v ' , Revue d u P a c i f i q u e 2 , p p . 6 1 - 8 0 .
34 B l o c k De B e h a r , Lisa
1981 ' T h e a e s t h e t i c c o r d s in t h e a t r i c a l communication' (paper
read at IASPA I , B r u s s e l s ) .
35 B o g a t y r e v , Piotr
1976a 'Forms and F u n c t i o n s of Folk T h e a t r e ' , ( i n ) L. Matejka
a n d I. T i t u n i k ( e d s . ) , Semiotics of A r t : P r a g u e School
Contributions (Cambridge, Mass.: M I T ) , pp.33-50.
36 1976b 'Costume as a S i g n ' , (in) L. Matejka and I. Titunik,
( e d s . ) (= 1936).
 514

37 B o n o , Paola, e M a r i a - V i t t o r i a T e s s i t o r e
1981 'Rome's a S t a g e . B r i t a n n i c u s in a Baroque Church'
( P a p e r read at IASPA I , B r u s s e l s ) .
38 B o u i s s a c , Paul ( d i r . )
1980 'Semiotics of t h e Visual and P e r f o r m i n g A r t s ' ( c o u r s e at
t h e I n t e r n a t i o n a l Summer I n s t i t u t e f o r Semiotic and
S t r u c t u r a l S t u d i e s , 2-27 J u n e , 1980, T o r o n t o ) .
39 1981 'System V e r s u s Process in t h e U n d e r s t a n d i n g of P e r
f o r m a n c e s ' ( i n ) E. H e s s - L t t i c h ( e d . ) , I l , p p . 7 6 - 9 5 .
40 B o u r g y , V . et R. D u r a n d ( e d s . )
1980 La r e l a t i o n t h t r a l e ( L i l l e : Presses de L ' U n i v . Lille) .
41 Brainers, Barron
1979 ' P r o n o u n s and Genre in S h a k e s p e a r e ' s Dramas', Com
p u t e r s a n d t h e Humanities 13, p p . 3 - 1 6 .
42 Breuer, Ralf
1976 Die K u n s t d e r P a r a d o x i e . K r i t i s c h e I n f o r m a t i o n [on
Beckett] (Mnchen: F i n k ) .
43 B r u s e g a n , Rosanna
1979 ' T h e A m b i v a l e n c e of Desire in t h e Jeu de la F e u i l l e ' ,
( p a p e r read at t h e C o n f e r e n c e T e x t , Communication and
P e r f o r m a n c e : T h e T h e a t r i c a l D o u b l e , 13-16 September,
1979, C a l a b r i a ) .
44 1981 ' V e r i t e f i n z i o n e nel Jeu d ' A d a m ' , C u l t u r a Neolatina .
45 B r u z y , Claude
1981 'Les semiosis d u t h t r e ' ( p a p e r read at IASPA I , Brus
sels) .
46 B u n j e v a c , Milan
1980a ' P i l a d o v .efekat' [ O n t h e d e i c t i c f u n c t i o n of silence of
c h a r a c t e r s ] , Knjizevna k r i t i k a 5 .
47 1980b 'Les r s e a u x de communication au t h t r e ' , ( i n ) P r o
c e e d i n g s of t h e 9 t h I n t e r n a t i o n a l C o n g r e s s of A e s t h e t i c s
I (Beograd) .
48 ... ' S t r u c t u r e de l ' i n f o r m a t i o n au t h t r e ' (ms.).
49 Burton, Deirdre
1979 ' M a k i n g c o n v e r s a t i o n : on c o n v e r s a t i o n a l a n a l y s i s , s t y l i s -
t i c s , and P i n t e r ' , L a n g u a g e and S t y l e 1 2 , p p . 1 8 8 - 2 0 0 .
50 Caboa C a l i a n a , Joaquina
1977 Semiologa de las comedias b r b a r a s ( M a d r i d : C u p s a ) .
51 Canziana, Alfonso
1978 ' B r e v i note a m a r g i n e d e l l ' a t t u a l e p r o b l e m a t i c a dell'
a t t o r e ' , ( i n ) A . S e r p i e r i et a l . , p p . 1 6 3 - 1 7 0 .
52 C a p r e t t i n i , Paolo
1979 ' T h e t w o halves of t h e d o u b l e : Notes on Pirandello'
( p a p e r read a t C a l a b r i a ) .
 515

53 Cassirer, P.
1979 ' T h e Hero in D r a m a . A n I n v e s t i g a t i o n of a Semiotic
P r i n c i p l e ' , ( i n ) S . C h a t m a n , U. Eco and J . - M . K l i n k e n
b e r g ( e d s . ) , A Semiotic L a n d s c a p e . P r o c e e d i n g s of t h e
F i r s t C o n g r e s s of t h e I A S S , Milan 1974 ( B e r l i n , The
H a g u e : De G r u y t e r and M o u t o n ) .
54 Caune, J .
1978 'L'analyse de la r e p r s e n t a t i o n t h t r a l e a p r s Brecht',
Silex 7 .
55 Chabert, P.
1976 'Le c o r p s comme m a t r i a u dans la reprsentation t h
t r a l e ' , ( i n ) Recherches p o t i q u e s II ( P a r i s : Klinck-
sieck) .
56 Chumbley, Robert
1979 ' F o r a Processual Semiosis: T h e Case of A. Artaud'
( p a p e r read a t IASS I I , V i e n n a ) .
57 Cocquet, J . - .
1977 'Quelques p r o c d u r e s d ' a n a l y s e smiologique d ' u n t e x t e
de t h t r e (La V i l l e de C l a u d e l ) ' ( p a p e r read at t h e
T a b l e r o n d e i n t e r n a t i o n a l e de smiologie d u t h t r e ,
M a r c h , 1977, P a r i s ) .
58 C o n f e r e n c e on P i r a n d e l l o
1979 ( 1 8 - 2 1 December, 1979, C u n e o ) .
59 C o n f e r e n c e on Zich
1979 T h e S c i e n t i f i c H e r i t a g e of O t a k a r Zich ( 1 9 7 9 , P r a g u e ) ,
60 Conference
1980 T h e T h e o r y of T h e a t e r ( 1 7 - 1 9 A p r i l , 1980, A n n Arbor).
61 Conference
1980 P l a y i n g a n d P e r f o r m i n g : t h e Semiotics of Entertainment
( 6 - 7 J u n e , 1980, T o r o n t o ) .
62 Coppieters, Frank
1976 'A Research Programme f o r I n v e s t i g a t i n g T r a g i c P r o
cesses in T h e a t r e P e r f o r m a n c e ' , Communication a n d C o g
nition 9, 1/2, p p . 7 7 - 8 6 .
63 1977 T o w a r d s a P e r f o r m a n c e T h e o r y of E n v i r o n m e n t a l Theatre
(Diss. Antwerp) .
64 1979 ' E t h o g e n i s c h o n d e r z o e k naar h e t g e d r a g v a n de t h e a t e r -
recipint', [Ethogenic Investigations into the Behaviour
of t h e T h e a t r e P e r c e i v e r ] , Scenarium 3 , p p . 8 1 - 8 8 ,
p.115.
65 1981a ' P e r f o r m a n c e a n d P e r c e p t i o n ' , Poetics T o d a y 2 , p.3.
66 1981b ' P a r t i c i p a n t O b s e r v a t i o n and P e r f o r m a n c e Theory' (pa
p e r read at IASPA I , B r u s s e l s ) .
 516

67 C o p p i e t e r s , F r a n k , and Carlos T i n d e m a n s
1977 ' T h e T h e a t r e P u b l i c . A semiotic a p p r o a c h ' , ( i n ) Das
T h e a t e r u n d sein P u b l i k u m ( W i e n : V e r l a g d e r ster
r e i c h i s c h e n Akademie d e r W i s s e n s c h a f t ) .
68 C o r v n , Michel
1978 'La r e d o n d a n c e d u signe dans le f o n c t i o n n e m e n t th
t r a l ' , Degrs 13, c - c 2 3 .
69 1978b 'La d t e r m i n a t i o n des u n i t e s en smiologie t h t r a l e ' ,
(in) R e g a r d s s u r la smiologie c o n t e m p o r a i n e (Saint
E t i e n n e : U n i v . de S a i n t E t i e n n e ) .
70 1878c ' A n a l y s e d r a m a t u r g i q u e de t r o i s e x p o s i t i o n s ( A m p h i t r y
on 3 8 , E l e c t r e , Intermezzo de G i r a u d o u x ) ' , Revue d ' H i s
toire du Thtre 30, pp.156-167.
71 1980 'Smiologie et s p e c t a c l e : George D a n d i n (mise en scne
de D. B e n o i n ) ' , O r g a n o n 8 0 , p p . 9 3 - 1 5 2 .
72 C o r v i n , Michel ( e d . )
1980 Smiologie et t h t r e (= O r g a n o n 8 0 ) .
73 C o s t a n t i n i , M.
1981 ' M u s i q u e , c h a n t - p a r o l e : Pour une d e s c r i p t i o n smiotique
des t r a g d i e s g r e c q u e s ' ( P a p e r read at lASPA I , B r u s
sels) .
74 C o u l t h a r d , Malcolm
1977 'The analysis of l i t e r a r y d i s c o u r s e [Othello]', (in)
M. C o u l t h a r d , An Introduction to Discourse Analysisl
(London: Longman), pp.170-181.
75 D a m i s c h , H. et Louis M a r i n ( d i r s . )
1976 ' C o r p s et g e s t e ' ( c o u r s at C I S L , J u l y , 1976, Urbino).
76 David, Gilbert
1980 ' F o n c t i o n s smiotiques de l'clairage s c n i q u e ' (ms.).
77 Deak, Frantisek
1976 ' S t r u c t u r a l i s m in T h e a t r e : T h e P r a g u e School C o n t r i b u
t i o n s ' , T h e Drama Review 2 0 , p . 4 .
78 Degrs 13
1978 T h t r e e t smiologie .
79 De K u y p e r , Eric
1979 Pour une smiologie s p e c t a c u l a i r e ( T h s e I I I , P a r i s ) .
80 1980 ' T h e a t e r w e t e n s c h a p : v e r r u i m i n g of v e r e n g i n g ' [ T h e a t r e
Research: enlargement or a b r i d g e m e n t ] , T i j d s c h r i f t voor
T h e a t e r w e t e n s c h a p 5.
81 De K u y p e r , E r i c , and Emile Poppe
1978 ' P o u r une smiotique d u s p e c t a c u l a i r e . Ebauche d'un
t r a v a i l en c o u r s ' , Degrs 15, e 1 - e 8 .
82 1981 ' R e g a r d e r et V o i r ' , Communications .
 517

83 Deloche, J .
1977 Des a m b i g u t s d u c o l l a g e . Recherches p a r t i r de R.
Planchon ( T h s e I I I , P a r i s ) .
84 De M a r i n i s , Marco
1977a ' M a t e r i a l i p e r una semiotica del t e a t r o ' , ( i n ) M. De Ma
r i n i s e G. B e t t e t i n i , p p . 3 5 - 1 3 1 .
85 1977b 'The Theatrical Journey of Guiliano Scabia', TDR 2 1 ,
p.1.
86 1977c 'Teatro, pratica e s c r i t t u r a : I t i n e r a r i o de G i u l i a n o Sca
b i a ' , R i v i s t a Italiana d i D r a m m a t u r g i a 5, pp.61-95.
87 1978 'Lo s p e t t a c o l o come t e s t o ( I ) ' , V e r s u s 2 1 , p p . 6 6 - 1 0 4 .
88 1979a 'Lo spettacolo come t e s t o ( I I ) ' , V e r s u s 2 2 , p . 3 - 3 1 .
89 1979b ' T h e T e x t u a l A n a l y s i s of t h e P e r f o r m a n c e : A s p e c t s a n d
Problems' ( p a p e r read at C a l a b r i a ) .
90 1979c 'I classici nel t e a t r o c o n t e m p o r a n e o : t r a r i f i u t o e p r e d -
d i l e z i o n e ' , RID 1 4 , p p . 9 9 - 1 1 4 .
91 1981 Semiotica del t e a t r o ( M i l a n o : B o m p i a n i ) .
92 De M a r i n i s , Marco ( e d . )
1978 T e a t r o e semiotica (= V e r s u s 21) .
93 De M a r i n i s , Marco e G i a n f r a n c o B e t t e t i n i
1977 T e a t r o e communicazione ( F i r e n z e : G u a r a l d i ) .
94 D i n u , Mihai
1976 'Approche linguistique-mathmatique de l'histoire de
l ' o p r a ' , L T A 13, p . 1 .
95 1977 'How t o estimate t h e w e i g h t of stage r e l a t i o n s ' , Poetics
6, 3/4, pp.209-227.
96 1979 'Aspects smiotiques de la s t r a t g i e de p e r s o n n a g e s
dans le t h t r e ' , ( i n ) P r o c e e d i n g s of lASS I , Milan
1974.
97 D o d d , William
1979a ' M i s u r a p e r M i s u r a ' : La t r a n s p a r e n z a della commedia
( M i l a n o : il F o r m i c h i e r i ) .
98 1979b 'Metalanguage and C h a r a c t e r in D r a m a ' , Lingua e Stile
14, 1 , p p . 1 3 5 - 1 5 0 .
99 1980 ' A s p e c t s of t h e r e l a t i o n s h i p between 'episode' and f a
bula in d r a m a t i c t e x t s ' ( p a p e r read at B C L A , C a n t e r
bury) .
100 1981 'Conversation, dialogue, and exposition', Strumenti
critici .
101 Dort, Bernard
1979 T h t r e en j e u ( P a r i s : S e u i l ) .
 518

102 1980 'La r e p r s e n t a t i o n mancipe', ( p a p e r read at T h t r a -

lit, Toronto).
103 D o r t , B e r n a r d et A n n e U b e r s f e l d ( e d s . )
1978 Le t e x t e et la s c n e : t u d e s s u r l'espace et l'acteur
(Paris: Inst. d'Etudes Thtrales).
104 Durand, Rgis
1977 ' T h e d i s p o s i t i o n of t h e v o i c e ' , ( i n ) M. Benamou a n d .
Caramello ( e d s . ) , Postmodern Performance ( C o d a P r e s s ) .
105 1980 ' O r i g i n e s de la r e p r s e n t a t i o n , r e p r s e n t a t i o n s des o r i
gines', Travail thtral 32/33.
106 Eco, U m b e r t o
1977 'Semiotics of T h e a t r i c a l P e r f o r m a n c e ' , TDR 7 3 , p p . 1 0 7 -
117.
107 1978 'Pirandello ridens', R i v i s t a Italiana d u Drammaturgia
9/10, pp.87-95.
108 Elam, K e i r
1977 ' L a n g u a g e in t h e t h e a t r e ' , S u b - s t a n c e 1 8 / 1 9 .
109 1978a ' A p p u n t i sulla d e i s s i , l'anafora e le t r a s f o r m a z i o n i nel
t e s t o drammatico e sulla s c e n a ' , ( i n ) A . S e r p i e r i et a l . ,
pp.97-109.
110 1978b 'Segmentazione d i b r a n i da a l c u n i testi teatrali', (in)
A . S e r p i e r i et a l . , p p . 1 0 9 - 1 2 8 .
111 1979 ' T h e Possible Worlds of the Drama', (paper read at
Calabria).
112 1980 T h e Semiotics of T h e a t r e and Drama ( L o n d o n : M e t h u e n ) .
113 E i s n e r , R.
1976 Zeichen u n d l i t e r a r i s c h e P r a x i s . T h e o r i e d e r l i t e r a r i s c h
semantischen P r o d u k t i o n u n d die P r a x i s des A n d r e a s
G r y p h i u s im ' P e t e r S q u e n t z ' ( M n c h e n ) .
114 1980 'Zeichen u n d E r f a h r u n g . Eine I n t e r p r e t a t i o n v o n I b s e n :
N o r a ' , ( i n ) A . Eschbach u n d W. ' Rader ( H r s g . ) , L i t e -
r a t u r s e m i o t i k II ( T b i n g e n : N a r r ) .
115 E r t e l , Evelyne
1977 'Elments p o u r une smiologie du thtre', Travail
thtral 28/29, pp.121-150.
116 Eschbach, Achim
1979 Pragmasemitotik und Theater ( T b i n g e n : Narr).
117 Fabregas, Xavier
1981 ' P o u r l'tablissement d ' u n e iconologie du spectacle',
( p a p e r read a t IASPA I , B r u s s e l s ) .
118 Faryno, Jerzy
1976 'Tegstrukturen i Mken', (in) G. Kletsaa (ed.),
Tsjekhov's Dramatikk (Oslo: Solum), pp.72-96.
 519

119 F r a l , Josette
1979a 'Le s i g n e et le s u j e t : l'example de la s c n e ' , Travaux
d u c e r c l e m t h o d o l o g i q u e de T o r o n t o .
120 1979b ' P o u r u n e t h o r i e d u d p l a c e m e n t : l'example d u t h t r e
e x p r i m e n t a l ' , T r a v a u x d u c e r c l e m t h o d o l o g i q u e de
Toronto.
121 1980a 'La p r o b l m a t i q u e d u s i g n e d a n s le t h t r e e x p r i m e n -
t a l ' , C a h i e r s Canadiens de Recherches S m i o t i q u e s .
122 1980b ' P e r f o r m a n c e et t h t r a l i t : le s u j e t d m y s t i f i ; (paper
read at T h t r a l i t , T o r o n t o ) .
123 Fieguth, Rolf
1976 'A New S t r u c t u r a l i s t A p p r o a c h t o t h e T h e o r y of Drama
and t o General Genre T h e o r y ' ( r e v i e w of Schmid 1973,
S t r u k t u r a l i s t i s c h e Dramentheorie ( K r o n b e r g / T s . : S c r i p
t o r ) ) PTL 1 , p p . 3 8 3 - 3 9 0 .
124 1979 'Zum Problem des v i r t u e l l e n E m p f n g e r s beim Drama.
Am Beispiel v o n O s t r o v s k i j ' s Komdie Besenye D e n ' g i ' ,
( i n ) A . J . F . v a n Holk ( e d . ) , p p . 9 0 - 1 1 6 , 2 4 6 - 2 5 1 .
125 F i n t e r , Helga
1979 'La p r o d u c t i o n d u d i s p o s i t i f s u b j e c t i f dans le t h t r e
p o s t m o d e r n e ' , ( p a p e r read at IASS I I , V i e n n a ) .
126 1980a Semiotik des A v a n t g a r d e t e x t e s ( S t u t t g a r t : Metzler).
127a 1980b ' T h t r e e x p r i m e n t a l et smiologie de la v o i x ' , (paper
read at T h t r a l i t , T o r o n t o ) .
127b 1981a ' A u t o u r de la v o i x au t h t r e : v o i x de t e x t e ou t e x t e de
v o i x ? ' , ( i n ) C . P o n t b r i a n d et a l . , P e r f o r m a n c e , t e x t e s
et documents ( M o n t r e a l : p a r a c h u t e ) .
127c 1981b 'Die s o u f f l i e r t e S t i m m e ' , T h e a t e r h e u t e 10
127d 1981c ' E n t r e clameurs et c i t a t i o n s : la v o i x s o u f f l e ' ( p a p e r
read at L ' O p e r a , C o n f e r e n c e at U r b i n o , J u l y 1 9 8 1 ) .
127e 1981d 'Vom k o l l e k t i v e n O p f e r zum s i n g u l r e n Proze' (paper
read at t h e R o m a n i s t e n t a g , R e g e n s b u r g 1981).
128 1981e ' T h e a t r a l i s i e r u n g d e r Stimme im ( E x p e r i m e n t a l - ) T h e a -
t e r ' , ( p a p e r read at t h e 3. Semiotisches K o l l o q u i u m
Zeichen u n d R e a l i t t , D e u t s c h e Gesellschaft f r Se
m i o t i k ( D G S ) , H a m b u r g , 4-8 O c t o b e r , 1981).
129 F i s c h e r - L i c h t e , Erika
1977 'Probleme d e r Rezeption k l a s s i s c h e r Werke - am B e i
spiel von Goethes Iphigenie', (in) K.O. Conrady
( H r s g . ), Deutsche L i t e r a t u r zur Zeit der Klassik
( S t u t t g a r t ) , p p . 114-140.
130 1979 ' Z u r K o n s t i t u t i o n des s t h e t i s c h e n Zeichens u n t e r b e
sonderer Bercksichtigung des theatralischen Zei
c h e n s ' , ( p a p e r read at Essen, 8-11 N o v e m b e r , 1 9 7 9 ) .
 520

131 1981a 'Probleme der A u f f h r u n g s a n a l y s e ' ( p a p e r read at t h e

1 . K o l l o q u i u m der S e k t i o n T h e a t e r s e m i o t i k in d e r DGS,
M u n i c h , 19-21 F e b r u a r y , 1981).
132 1981b 'Theatrical Communication', (paper read at IASPA I,
Brussels) .
133 1981c 'Die A u f f h r u n g als b e d e u t u n g s b e z o g e n e Praxis', (pa
p e r read at DGS 3, H a m b u r g ) .
134a 1981d ' T h e T h e a t r i c a l Code. A n A p p r o a c h t o t h e Problem',
( i n ) E. H e s s - L t t i c h ( e d . ) , I l , p p . 5 3 - 7 5 .
134b 1981e 'Der Bedeutungsaufbau des theatralischen Textes',
KODIKAS/Code 3, 3/4.
135 f.. Semiotik des T h e a t e r s .
136 Flashar, Helmut, Karl Maurer, Karlheinz Stierle und Dieter Ingen-
schay ( H r s g . )
1976 ' D i s k u s s i o n ( Z u r Bochumer D i s k u s s i o n : D r a m e n t h e o r i e -
H a n d l u n g s t h e o r i e ) ' , Poetica 8 , p p . 3 9 9 - 4 5 0 .
137 Flashar, Helmut
1976a 'Die H a n d l u n g s t h e o r i e des A r i s t o t e l e s ' , Poetica 8 , 3/4,
pp.336-339.
138 1976b 'Die H a n d l u n g s s t r u k t u r des K n i g O e d i p u s ' , Poetica 8,
3/4, pp.355-359.
139 Floch, J . - M .
1978 'Smiotique v i s u e l l e et s t a t u t s smiotiques des lments
v i s u e l s d u d i s c o u r s t h t r a l ' , D e g r s 13, e1-e17.
140 Foster, David
1977 ' R o b e r t o A r l t ' s La isla d e s i e r t a : A S t r u c t u r a l A n a l y s i s ' ,
L a t i n A m e r i c a n T h e a t r e Review 1 1 , p p . 2 5 - 3 4 .
141 Frese, Jrgen
1976 'Zur Mglichkeit der Anwendung philosophischer und
s o z i o l o g i s c h e r H a n d l u n g s t h e o r i e n a u f das D r a m a . Am
Beispiel e i n e r Sequenz aus G e r h a r t H a u p t m a n n s Michael
K r a m e r ' , Poetica 8 , 3 / 4 , p p . 3 7 9 - 3 8 4 .
142 G a b r i e l e s c u , Daniela
1976 ' S y n t a x e des m a r q u e s smantiques et logiques de l'action
dans Le p r i n c e c h a r m a n t n d ' u n e larme de Mihai Emi-
n e s c u ' , Revue roumaine de l i n g u i s t i q u e - C L T A 2 3 , 2 ,
pp.637-646.
143 1977 ' S y n t a x , semantics and p r a g m a t i c s in a t h e a t r i c a l play',
Poetics 6 , 3 / 4 , p p . 3 1 9 - 3 3 8 .
144 1979 ' N i v e a u x smiotiques dans la d f i n i t i o n d u p e r s o n n a g e
d r a m a t i q u e m o d e r n e ' ( p a p e r read at IASS I I , V i e n n a ) .
145 Gardin, Carlos et Jos V e n d r a m i n i
1979 ' A n a l y s e smiotique d u t h t r e : un exemple brsilien',
( p a p e r read at IASS I I , V i e n n a ) .
 521

146 Gardin, Carlos

1981 ' B r a z i l : Waiting f o r . . . Godot?', ( i n ) E. Hess-Lttich
( e d . ) , I l , pp.430-449.
147 Gobin, Pierre
1980 'Le r p e r t o i r e d ' A n t o n i n e M a i l l e t : les c o o r d o n n e s s p a
t i a l e s et t e m p o r e l l e s e t l e u r t r a i t e m e n t ' , ( p a p e r read at
Thtralit, Toronto).
148 ... 'Le code g e s t u e l d a n s les romans de Mirabeau: du
roman au t h t r e ' ( m s . ) .
149 Golomb, Harai
1979 ' G r a p h i e n o t a t i o n and i n f o r m a t i o n a l c e n t r a l i t y in l a n
g u a g e , p o e t r y , d r a m a , and m u s i c ' , ( p a p e r r e a d at
IASS I I , V i e n n a ) .
150 Gorun, Irina
1977 'On r e c u r r e n t dramatic structure', Poetics 6, 3/4,
pp.287-304.
151 Grande, Maurizio
1979 ' T h e t h e a t r i c a l machine as technology of simulation',
( p a p e r read at C a l a b r i a ) .
152 G r o s u , Corina
1977 'A mechanical model in t h e s t u d y of d r a m a ' , Poetics 6 ,
3/4, pp.305-318.
153 Guarino, Raimondo
1978 'Per una definizione del dramma', Biblioteca teatrale
20.
154 1979 'The archeology of Performance' (paper read at C a l a
bria).
155 1981 'Le t h t r e du sens' (paper read at IASPA I, Brus
sels).
156 f.c. La t r a g e d i a e le macchine ( R o m a : B u l z o n i ) .
157 ... ' L ' a r c h e o l o g i a del t e a t r o [ L ' a c q u i s t o della c a r n e ] Il r i
t o r n o del t r a g i c o in Die Manahme d i B . B r e c h t ' ( m s . ) .
158 Guaducci, Roberto
1978 ' L e t t e r a sul c o n t e s t o t e a t r a l e ' , ( i n ) A . S e r p i e r i e t a l ,
pp.181-190.
159 Gull P u g l i a t t i , Paola
1976 I segni l a t e n t i . S c r i t t u r a come v i r t u a l i t scenica i n ' K i n g
Lear' ( M e s s i n a , F i r e n z e : D ' A n n a ) .
160 1978a ' P r o v a de segmentazione d i d u e b r a n i d r a m m a t i c i a
v e r i f i c a della p r o p o s t a d i dcoupage in o r i e n t a m e n t i
d e i t t i c i f o r m u l a t a da A . S e r p i e r i ' , ( i n ) A . S e r p i e r i et
al., pp.81-91.
 522

161 1978b ' C o n t r i b u t o al processo d i segmentazione del t e s t o

drammatico in o r i e n t a m e n t i d e i t t i c o - p e r f o r m a t i v i come
v e r i f i c a d i u l t e r i o r i sopraelevazoni c o n n o t a t i v e ' , ( i n )
A . S e r p i e r i et a l . , p p . 134-148.
162 1978c ' I n t e r v e n t o ' , Versus 2 1 , p p . 11-22.
163 1979a 'Per una i n d a g i n e sulla c o n v e n z i o n e nel t e s t o dramma
tico', Strumenti critici 39/40, pp.428-447.
164 1979b ' A s p e c t s of C o n v e n t i o n in t h e Dramatic T e x t ' , (paper
read at C a l a b r i a ) .
165 1980 ' T h e D i s t r i b u t i o n of I m p l i c i t I n f o r m a t i o n in t h e O p e n i n g
Scenes of Dramatic T e x t s ' , ( p a p e r read at B C L A , C a n
terbury).
166 G u m b r e c h t , Hans U l r i c h
1976a ' H a n d l u n g des D r a m a s , Drama als H a n d l u n g , S p r e c h
h a n d l u n g e n im D r a m a ' , Poetica 8 , 3 / 4 , p p . 3 4 3 - 3 4 6 .
167 1976b 'Die d r a m e n s c h l i e e n d e S p r a c h h a n d l u n g im aristoteli
schen T h e a t e r u n d i h r e P r o b l e m a t i s i e r u n g bei M a r i
v a u x ' , Poetica 8 , 3 / 4 , p p . 3 7 6 - 3 7 9 .
168 Hainaux, Ren et Paul Doyen
1976 Le lieu t h t r a l . Sa c o n s t r u c t i o n et son q u i p e m e n t . Le
Dcor et la costume ( B r u x e l l e s : I N S A S ) .
169 Hammad, M.
1977 'Smiotique de l'espace dans ses r e l a t i o n s avec une
smiotique de t h t r e ' , ( p a p e r read at t h e T a b l e r o n d e ,
Paris).
170 Hargreaves, Anna
1978 'A c o m p u t e r - a i d e d s t u d y of B e c k e t t ' s p l a y s and t r a n s
l a t i o n s ' , Revue i , p p . 2 5 - 4 3 .
171 Harras, Gisela
1978 K o m m u n i k a t i v e H a n d l u n g s k o n z e p t e o d e r Eine M g l i c h
k e i t H a n d l u n g s a b f o l g e n als Zusammenhnge zu e r k l
r e n , e x e m p l a r i s c h an T h e a t e r t e x t e n (Tbingen: Nie
meyer).
172 Hasselbach, Hans-Peter
1976 'Samuel B e c k e t t ' s Endgame: A Structural Analysis',
M o d e r n Drama 19, p p . 2 5 - 3 4 .
173 H a y s , Michael
1980a ' S u g g e s t i o n s a b o u t t h e social o r i g i n s of semiotic p r a c
t i c e in t h e T h e a t r e ' , ( p a p e r read at t h e C o n f e r e n c e
T h e o r y of T h e a t r e , A p r i l 1980, M i c h i g a n ) .
174 1980b ' T h e Semiotics of R e c e p t i o n , o r - How A u d i e n c e s Give
As Much as T h e y G e t ' , Union S e m i n a r y Q u a r t e r l y .
175 Helbo, A n d r
1978a 'Smiologie d u t e x t e e t / o u de la reprsentation: une
c r i s e f c o n d e ' , D e g r s 13, g .
 523

176 1978b ' T h e a t r e as R e p r e s e n t a t i o n ' , S u b - s t a n c e 1 8 / 1 9 .

177 1978c ' D b a t s u r la smiotique t h t r a l e ' , V e r s u s 2 1 .
178 1979 'Rflexions sur la smiologie du thtre', (in) Pro
c e e d i n g s of IASS I , M i l a n , 1974.
179 1980a ' T h t r e e t t h t r a l i t ' , Etudes littraires.
180 1980b 'Smantique en r e l a t i o n de la r c e p t i o n t h t r a l e ' , ( i n )
V . B o u r g y et R. D u r a n d ( e d s . ) .
181 1980c 'Semiosis et mimesis ' t h t r a l e " , ( i n ) M. Spariosu
( e d . ) , Mimesis S t u d i e s .
182 1981a ' T h e Semiology of T h e a t r e , o r : Communication Swamp
e d ' , Poetics T o d a y 2 , p . 3 .
183 1981b 'Problmes d ' u n e r h t o r i q u e s c n i q u e ' , (in) E. Hess-
Lttich ( e d . ) , I I , pp.123-140.
184 1981c ' P e r s p e c t i v e s d ' u n e smiologie du spectacle', (paper
read at IASPA I , B r u s s e l s ) .
185 f.c. Les mots et les g e s t e s . Essais s u r le t h t r e (Bru
xelles: Complexe).
186 Helbo, A n d r ( e d . )
1978 T h t r e et Smiologie ( B r u x e l l e s ) (= Degrs 1 3 ) .
187 1981 P r o c e e d i n g s of t h e F i r s t I n t e r n a t i o n a l C o n f e r e n c e of t h e
IASPA (23-25 A p r i l , 1 9 8 1 , B r u s s e l s ) (= Degrs 2 7 / 8 ) .
188 Hempfer, Klaus
1976 'Die T h e o r i e d e r P r s u p p o s i t i o n e n u n d die A n a l y s e des
Dialogs im a b s u r d e n T h e a t e r ' , Z e i t s c h r i f t f r f r a n z s i -
Sprache und Literatur 2.
189 Hernalsteen, Pierre
'Smiotique o p r a - t i e n n e l l - Modle d ' a n a l y s e f o n d sur
l i v r e t et p a r t i t i o n de Pellas et Mlisande' ( m s . ) .
190 H e s s - L t t i c h , Ernest
1977 ' E m p i r i s i e r u n g l i t e r a r i s c h e r T e x t a n a l y s e . Zum Problem
d e r L i t e r a r i s i e r u n g g e s p r o c h e n e r S p r a c h e im D r a m a ' ,
( i n ) W. Klein ( H r s g . ) , Methoden d e r T e x t a n a l y s e ( H e i
d e l b e r g : Quelle u n d M e i e r ) , p p . 6 1 - 7 2 .
191a 1980a ' A c h i m E s c h b a c h : Pragmasemiotik u n d T h e a t e r ' , Zeit
s c h r i f t f r d e u t s c h e Philologie 99.
191b 1980b 'Rattentests. Zur Wirkung dramatischer Dialoge', ( i n )
Ernest Hess-Lttich ( e d . ), Literatur und Konversation.
S p r a c h s o z i o l o g i e u n d P r a g m a t i k in d e r L i t e r a t u r w i s s e n
s c h a f t ( W i e s b a d e n : A t h e n a i o n ) , p p . 173-204.
192 1981a ' T h e a t r i c a l Semiosis as Multimedial C o m m u n i c a t i o n ' , (in)
E. H e s s - L t t i c h ( e d . } , I l , p p . 1 - 2 4 .
 524

193 1981b ' D r a m a , Silence and Semiotics. Notational E x p e r i m e n t s

of N a t u r a l i s t i c D r a m a t i s t s ( H o l z / S c h l a f , Hauptmann)',
( i n ) E. H e s s - L t t i c h ( H r s g . ) / II p p . 3 5 6 - 3 8 5 (also in
K o d i k a s / C o d e 1 , 1979; and in F o l i a - L i n g u i s t i c a 12, 1 / 2 ,
p p . 3 1 - 6 4 : ' D r a m a t u r g i e des S c h w e i g e n s . Z u r Semiologie
des S p r a c h v e r s a g e n s im D r a m a ' ) .
194 1981c 'Multimediale K o m m u n i k a t i o n als Realitt des T h e a t e r s ,
E i n l e i t u n g ' , ( p a p e r read at DGS I I I , H a m b u r g ) .
195 f. Soziale I n t e r a k t i o n u n d l i t e r a r i s c h e r D i a l o g , 'Zeichen'
u n d ' S c h i c h t ' in H a u p t m a n n ' s ' R a t t e n ' ( B e r l i n : S c h m i d t ) .
196 H e s s - L t t i c h , Ernest ( e d . )
1981 Multimedial C o m m u n i c a t i o n . Vol. I I : T h e a t r e Semiotics
(Tbingen: Narr).
197 H i l d e b r a n d , Wil
1980 ' A d a p t a t i e als p r o d u c t i e p r o c e s ' [ P l a y i n t o P l a y . A d a p
t a t i o n as a P r o d u c t i o n s P r o c e s s ] , S c e n a r i u m 4 , p p . 9 8 -
103, p p . 1 5 4 - 1 5 5 .
198 H o e n s c h , Jarmila
1977 Das Schauspiel u n d seine Z e i c h e n . S t u d i e n z u r Z e i c h e n -
u n d K o m m u n i k a t i o n s p r o b l e m a t i k des S c h a u s p i e l s ( F r a n k
f u r t / M . , B e r n , Las V e g a s : Peter L a n g ) .
199 1981 'Die Semiotik v o n C h a r l e s S a n d e r s Peirce u n d das Z e i
c h e n s y s t e m T h e a t e r ' , ( p a p e r read at T h e a t e r s e m i o t i k I ,
Munich).
200 H o g e n d o o r n , Wiebe
1976 Lezen en zien spelen [ R e a d i n g and S p e c t a t i n g Theatre]
(Leiden: Karstens).
201 1981 'Notes on D e i x i s and S i m u l t a n e i t y in T h e a t r e Perform
a n c e ' , ( p a p e r read a t IASPA I , B r u s s e l s ) .
202 Honzl, Jindrich
1976 ' D y n a m i c s of t h e S i g n in t h e T h e a t r e ' , ( i n ) L. Matejka
a n d I. T i t u n i k ( e d s . ) , p p . 7 4 - 9 3 (= 1940: ' P o h y b d i v a -
d e l n h o z n a k u ' , SaS 6 , p p . 1 7 7 - 1 8 8 ) .
203 Hornby, Richard
1977 S c r i p t i n t o P e r f o r m a n c e : A S t r u c t u r a l i s t View of Play
Production ( A u s t i n : Texas U P ) .
204 Ingenschay, Dieter
1976 'Sechs Personen f i n d e n eine H a n d l u n g . B e r m e r k u n g e n
z u r H a n d l u n g s g e s t a l t u n g in P i r a n d e l l o Sei p e r s o n a g g i
in cerca d ' a u t o r e ' , Poetica 8 , 3 / 4 , p p . 3 8 4 - 3 9 0 .
205 I s s a c h a r o f f , Michael
1977a ' L u c i e n n e et le b o u c h e r , ( s m i o ) l o g i q u e d u mlo' M a g .
L i t t r a i r e 124, p p . 2 2 - 2 5 .
206 1977b ' S a r t r e et les s i g n e s : la d y n a m i q u e spatial de Huis clos
T r a v a u x de l i n g u i s t i q u e et de la l i t t r a t u r e 15, 2 , p p .
293-303.
 525

207 1979 ' S u r les signes des Squestrs', Obliques 18/19, pp.
141-147.
208 1981 'Space a n d Reference in D r a m a ' , Poetics T o d a y 2 , ..
209 J a n s e n , Steen
1976a A n a l y s e de la f o r m e d r a m a t i q u e d u 'Mensonge' de Na
thalie Sarraute (Kbenhavn: Akademisk Forlag).
210 1976b ' B e r n a r d Masson: Musset et le t h t r e i n t r i e u r ' Revue
romane 1 1 , p . 1 .
211 1977a ' L ' u n i t della T r i l o g i a come u n i t de una r i c e r c a c o n
t i n u a ' , ( i n ) E. L a u r e t t a ( e d . ) , Il t e a t r o nel t e a t r o d i
Pirandello ( A g r i g e n t e : Fond. Pirandelliana), pp.222-236.
212 1977b ' A p p u n t i p e r l'analisi dello s p e t t a c o l o ' ( = Documenti d i
L a v o r o 68) ( U r b i n o : C I S L ) .
213 1977c ' S t r u t t u r a n a r r a t i v e e s t r u t t u r a drammatica in Questa
sera si r e c i t a a s o g g e t t o ' , R i v i s t a Italiana d i Dramma
turgia 6, pp.55-69.
214 1978a 'Problemi d e l l ' a n a l i s i di testi drammatici', Biblioteca
t e a t r a l e 20.
215 1978b ' I n t e r v e n t o ' , Versus 2 1 .
216 1980a ' I l t e s t o d r a m m a t i c o ' , ( p a p e r read at t h e C o n f e r e n c e on
t h e A v a n t - g a r d e I t a l i a n T h e a t r e , 10-14 M a r c h , 1980,
Copenhagen).
217 1980b 'Le t e x t e d r a m a t i q u e et la r e p r s e n t a t i o n scnique',
( p a p e r read at B C L A , Canterbury).
218 f..a. 'L'espace s c n i q u e dans le spectacle d r a m a t i q u e et
dans le t e x t e d r a m a t i q u e ; q u e l q u e s notes s u r les lec
t u r e s de L'uomo, la bestia e la v i r t de P i r a n d e l l o p a r
C a r l o Cecchi et Edmo F e n o g l i o ' , ( i n ) A t t i del C o n v e g n o
' T e s t o , communicazione e s p e t t a c o l o ' , s e t t . 1979, C o
senza.
219 f.c.b. 'Per una r i c o s t r u z i o n e della prima assoluta do Questa
sera si r e c i t a a s o g g e t t o a K n i g s b e r g , a l c u n i mate
r i a l i ' , ( i n ) A t t i della f i o n a t e d i s t u d i o p i r a n d e l l i a n a ,
d i c . 1979, C u n e o .
220 f.c.c. 'Den d r a m a t i s k e t e k s t - og den s c e n i s k e f r e m s t i l l i n g ;
nogle t e o r e t i s k e o v e r v e j e l s e r med eksampler f r a P i r a n -
dellos Vestire gli i g n u d i ' , (in) I t a l i e n s k t e a t e r idag
(1980) ( K b e n h a v n : Museum T u s c u l a n u m s F o r l a g ) .
221 J a n s e n , Steen ( d i r . )
1977 Principes d'analyse du texte dramatique (sem. CISL,
U r b i n o , J u l y , 1977).
222 Johansen, J . D .
1981 ' D i a l o g u e , A c t i o n and Scenic Space in I b s e n ' s T h e
M a s t e r b u i l d e r ' , ( p a p e r read at IASPA I , B r u s s e l s ) .
 526

223 Kaemmerling, Ekkehard

1980 ' D r a m e n b e r s e t z u n g u n d semiotische b e r s e t z u n g s a n a
l y s e . Va et v i e n t , Samuel B e c k e t t s Eigenbersetzung
v o n Come and go (1966) in e i n e r den semantisch f u n k
tionalen Zuschauerbezug bedenkenden Analyse', ( i n )
A . Eschbach u n d W. Rader ( H r s g . ) , L i t e r a t u r s e m i o t i k
II ( T b i n g e n : N a r r ) .
224 1981 'Hren und nichts sehen. Funktionen, Typen und
S t r u k t u r e n des B o t e n b e r i c h t e s u n d d e r T e i c h o s k o p i e ' ,
( p a p e r read at DGS III, H a m b u r g ) .
225 K a i s e r g r u b e r , Danielle
1977 'The t e x t ' , Sub-stance 18/19.
226 Kannicht, Richard
1976 ' H a n d l u n g als G r u n d b e g r i f f d e r a r i s t o t e l i s c h e n Theorie
des D r a m a s ' , Poetica 8, 3 / 4 , p p . 3 2 6 - 3 3 6 .
227 K a t t e n b e l t , Chiel
1980 "Elementen v o o r een t h e a t e r s e m i o t i e k ' van Evelyne
E r t e l " , [Elements f o r a t h e a t r e semiotics' b y E . E . ] ,
T i j d s c h r i f t voor Theaterwetenschap 3, pp.39-50; 4,
pp.4-25.
228 K e m e n y , Tomaso
1978a ' P r o v e d i segmentazione del t e s t o d r a m m a t i c o . P r o v a -
c o n f r o n t o su u n t e s t o n a r r a t i v o ' , ( i n ) A . S e r p i e r i et
a l . , pp.70-80.
229 1978b 'Nota in m a r g i n e alle p r o v e d i segmentazione del testo
d r a m m a t i c o ' , ( i n ) A . S e r p i e r i et a l . , p p . 1 2 9 - 1 3 7 .
230 Kennedy, Andrew
1980 ' T h e I m p e r s o n a l / P e r s o n a l Dialogue in B r e c h t ' s T h e a t r e '
( p a p e r read at B C L A , C a n t e r b u r y ) .
231 Kesting, Marianne
1976 ' H a n d l u n g - B e h a v i o r - R e f l e x i o n u n d i h r Echo im mo
d e r n e n D r a m a ' , Poetica 8 , 3 / 4 , p p . 3 9 0 - 3 9 9 .
232 K e t c h i a n , Sonia
1979 'On t h e semantic s t r u c t u r e of A n d r e e v ' s T o t , k t o p o -
lucaet p o s c e c i n y ' , Russian L a n g u a g e J o u r n a l 3 3 , p p .
75-84.
233 K i r b y , Michael
1976a 'The M a r i l y n - P r o j e c t : A Structuralist Play?', TDR 20,
2, p.72-79.
234 1976b 'Structural Analysis/Structural Theory', TDR 20, 4,
pp.52-68.
235 1978 ' I n t e r v e n t o - Teatro e semiotica', Versus 2 1 .
236 Kjetsaa, Geir
1976 'Symbol og s t r u k t u r ; i Tre sstre', ( i n ) G. Kjetsaa
(red.), Tsjekhov's Dramatikk (Oslo: Solun), pp.105-
123.
 527

237 Kleberg, Lars

1977 T e a t e r n som h a n d l i n g . S o v j e t i s k a v a n t g a r d e e s t e t i k 1917
-1927 ( S t o c k h o l m : A k a d e m i l i t t e r a t u r ) .
238 Kowzan, Tadeusz
1976a ' L ' a r t en a b y m e ' , Diogne 96.
239 1976b 'Wyspiaski - Apollinaire - Pirandello - Maakovski:
E t u d e c o m p a r a t i v e s u r l ' i l l u s i o n t h t r a l e ' , Revue de
L i t t r a t u r e Compare 50, p p . 1 8 5 - 1 9 8 .
240 1978a 'Polyvalence et ambigut du signe thtrale', Degrs
13, d .
241 1978b 'Le T a r t u f f e de Molire dans une mise en scne de
Roger P l a n c h o n ' , Les voies de la c r a t i o n t h t r a l e 6,
pp.281-340.
242 1978c ' I n t e r v e n t o - Teatro e semiotica', Versus 2 1 .
243 1979 'Jeu s c n i q u e comme systme de s i g n e s c o d i f i s et
c o d s , x v i - x x e sicles' ( p a p e r read at IASS I I , V i e n
na).
244 1980 'Littrature et spectacle' (paper read at BCLA, Can
terbury).
245 1981 ' S i g n e zro de la p a r o l e ' ( p a p e r r e a d at l A S P A , Brus
sels).
246 ... 'Le spectacle t h t r a l e , lieu de r e n c o n t r e p r i v i l g i
e n t r e la l i t t r a t u r e , les a r t s p l a s t i q u e s et la m u s i q u e '
(ms.).
247 Kowzan, Tadeusz ( e d . )
1976 A n a l y s e smiologique du spectacle thtrale (Lyon:
U n i v . de L y o n I I ) .
248 K r i s t e v a , Julia
1977 'Approche smiologique de l'avantgarde amricaine'
( p a p e r read at T a b l e r o n d e , P a r i s ) .
249 K r y s i n s k , Wladimir
1979 ' U n i t s i s o t o p i q u e s et d i s l o c a t i o n des codes dans Sei
p e r s o n a g g i in cerca d ' a u t o r e de L. Pirandello', (in)
P r o c e e d i n g s of IASS I , Milan 1974.
250 1980 'Quelques m u t a t i o n s des signes t e x t u e l s de la t h t r a -
l i t m o d e r n e : Gombrowicz et H a n d k e ' ( p a p e r r e a d at
Thtralit, Toronto).
251 1981 'Semiotic Modalities of the Body in Modern Theater',
Poetics T o d a y 2 , 3.
252 K u c h e n b u c h , Thomas
1980 ' V a n t h e a t e r naar f i l m : p r o b l e m e n v a n de a d a p t a t i e .
Proeve v a n een o v e r z i c h t ' [ T h e a t r e i n t o F i l m : A d a p t a
t i o n P r o b l e m s ] , S c e n a r i u m 4 , p p . 8 3 - 9 7 , 154.
 528

253 Lafon, Henri

1977 " V o i r sans t r e v u ' , u n c l i c h , un f a n t a s m e " , Potique
29, pp.50-60.
254 L a l u , Iolanda
1977 'Balance and game in t h e s t u d y of t h e a t r e ' , Poetics 6 ,
3/4, pp.339-350.
255 L a r i v a i l l e , Paul
1979 ' T h e logic of t h e T h e a t r i c a l Narrative' (paper read at
Calabria).
256 Larsen, Svend Erik
1981 ' G e n r e et d i a l o g u e . Problmes d ' u n e smiologie d u t h
t r e ' ( p a p e r read at lASPA I , B r u s s e l s ) .
257 L a u g h l i n , Karen
1980 'Le p e r s o n n a g e c o m b a t t a n t de Jean V a u t h i e r : problmes
des r c i t s i n t e r n e s ' ( p a p e r read at T h t r a l i t , T o
ronto).
258 L e h m a n n , Elmar
1976 ' H a n d e l n d e r , S i t u a t i o n , I n t e r a k t i o n . Am Beispiel v o n
C h a r l e s Sedley T h e M u l b e r r y G a r d e n l , 3 , Poetica 8 ,
3/4, p.366.
259 Livio, Gigi
L ' a t t o r e e la s c r i t t u r a d r a m a t u r g i c a ' , Q u a r t a Parete 5.
260 Maatje, F r a n k C .
1978 Over het o b j e c t v a n de d r a m a t h e o r i e ' , [ O n t h e object
of drama t h e o r y ] , S p e k t a t o r 7, p p . 3 5 9 - 3 7 1 .
261 Magli, Patrizia
1979a ' T y p e s of s e d u c t i o n in t h e b o d i l y expression of the
actor' (paper read at C a l a b r i a ) .
262 1979b ' T h e system of t h e passions in eighteenth century
dramatic mime", Versus 22.
263 M a r c o n i , E r o ; A n n m a r i a C a s c e t t a ; A n t o n i o M a r t i n e l l i , A n g e l s Ro-
vetta
1979 'Le t h t r e comme modle g n r a l d u l a n g a g e ' , ( i n )
P r o c e e d i n g s of IASS I , Milan 1974.
264 M a r c u s , Solomon
1977 ' E d i t o r i a l note to T h e Formal S t u d y of D r a m a ' , Poetics
6, 3/4, pp.203-207.
265 1980 'Semiotics of T h e a t r e : A Mathematical L i n g u i s t i c Ap
proach', Revue roumaine de L i n g u i s t i q u e 2 5 , 3 , pp.
161-189.
266 M a r c u s , Solomon ( e d . )
1977 T h e formal s t u d y of drama ( A m s t e r d a m : N o r t h Holland)
(= Poetics 6, 3 / 4 ) .
 529

267 Marty, Robert

1981 'Des t r o i s icones aux trois symboles' (paper read at
lASPA I , B r u s s e l s ) .
268 M a t e j k a , L a d i s l a v and I . T i t u n i k ( e d s . )
1976 Semiotics of A r t : P r a g u e School C o n t r i b u t i o n s (Cam
bridge, Mass.: M I T ) .
269 Mayer, Rudolph
1981 ' Z u r sozialen D e t e r m i n a t i o n d e r Z e i c h e n k o m p e t e n z im
K o m m u n i k a t i o n s s y s t e m T h e a t e r ' ( p a p e r read at DCS
III, Hamburg).
270 M a z u r , R.
1977 'Smiologie et i n f o r m a t i o n thtrale' (paper read at
Table ronde, Paris).
271 McDonald, David
1977 ' D e r r i d a and P i r a n d e l l o : A P o s t - S t r u c t u r a l i s t Analysis
of Six C h a r a c t e r s i n Search of an A u t h o r ' , Modern
Drama 2 0 , p p . 4 2 1 - 4 3 6 .
272 1980 ' D e r r i d a ' s A r t a u d ; t r a c e s of t h e Cenci ( p a p e r read at
Thtralit, Toronto).
273 M e l a n o n , Joseph
1980 'Le j e u smiotique dans Les B o n n e s ' (paper read at
Thtralit, Toronto).
274 M i h a i l o v i c , Dusan
1979 ' O t v o r e n a d r a m a t u r g i j a ili prolegomena za savremenu
t e o r i j a d r a m e ' , Scena 15, 5 , p p . 1 5 4 - 1 6 2 .
275 Mihnea, Tatiana
1977 ' C o m b i n a t o r i c s and d y n a m i c s of characters in Drama',
Poetics 6 , 3 / 4 , p p . 2 2 9 - 2 5 4 .
276 Minc, Z . G . ( e d . )
1976 Pamjati Petra G r i g o r ' e v i c a B o g a t y r e v a (Tartu: TGU) (=
T r u d y po z n a k y v o m sistemam 7 ) .
277 Mller-Zannoth, Ingrid
1977 Der Dialog in H a r o l d P i n t e r s D r a m e n . A s p e k t e s e i n e r
Kommunikativen Funktion ( F r a n k f u r t / M . , B e r n : P.H.
Lang).
278. N a d i n , Mihai
1977a 'Sens si s e n s u r i la C a r a g i a l e ' , T e a t r u 2 .
279 1977b ' T e x t and C h a r a c t e r ' , Poetics 6 , 3 / 4 , pp.255-286.
280 1978 ' S u r la c o n d i t i o n smiotique d u t h t r e ' , S t u d i i si c e r -
c e t a r i de i s t o r i a si t e o r i a a r t e i 1 .
281 1979 ' S i g n F u n c t i o n i n g in t h e P e r f o r m a n c e ' , T D R 8 4 , p p . 1 0 5 -
120.
282 ...a 'A semiotic p r o c e d u r a l approach to dramatic literature'
(ms.).
 530

283 ...b ' F u n c t i o n i n g o f Words ( i n Drama)' ( m s . ) .

284 Nencioni, Giovanni
1976 'Parlato-parlato, parlato-scritto, parlato-recitato,
S t r u m e n t i c r i t i c i 29.
285 1977 ' L ' i n t e r i e z i o n e nel diaiogo t e a t r a l e d i P i r a n d e l l o ' , Studi
d i Grammatica Italiana 6 , p p . 2 2 7 - 2 6 3 .
286 N e s s e l r o t h , Peter ( d i r . )
1980 Smiologie et t h t r e ( C o n f . of t h e Canadian Semiotic
A s s o c i a t i o n , May 29-31 1980, M o n t r e a l ) .
287 Niemi, Irmeli
1979 ' T h e Lapus O p e r a ' , ( i n ) P r o c e e d i n g s of t h e C o n f . 20th
C e n t u r y Drama in S c a n d i n a v i a ( H e l s i n k i ) .
288 Njgaard, Morten
1978 'Tempo drammatico e tempo n a r r a t i v o . Saggio s u i l i v e l l i
t e m p o r a l i ne La D e r n i r e Bande d i B e c k e t t ' , B i b l i o t e c a
teatrale 20, pp.65-75.
289 Nol, Francine
1979 'Une smiotique de l'espace s c n i q u e e s t - e l l e p o s s i b l e ? ' ,
( i n ) P r o c e e d i n g s of t h e IASS I , Milan 1974.
290 Noske, Frits
1977 T h e s i g n i f i e r and t h e s i g n i f i e d . S t u d i e s in t h e O p e r a
of M o z a r t a n d V e r d i ( T h e H a g u e : M o u t o n ) .
291 1980 ' V a n v e r b a a l naar muzikaal d r a m a . A d a p t a t i e of c r e a
t i e ? ' [ V e r b a l i n t o Musical D r a m a : A d a p t a t i o n o r C r e a
t i o n ? ] , S c e n a r i u m 4 , p p . 6 4 - 7 0 , 152.
292 N o w a k o w s k a , Maria
1981 'New T h e o r y of Time P e r c e p t i o n and Time in Theatre
Plays' ( p a p e r read at DGS I I I , H a m b u r g ) .
293 Oerlemans, Marguerite
1979 ' S t r u c t u r a l P e r f o r m a n c e ' , RPR (Fall).
294 O l i v a , Csar
1979 ' L e c t u r a semiolgica de A s q u e pasen c i n c o aos' Pri
mer A c t o 182, p p . 4 0 - 4 4 .
295 O l i v a , Joseph
1981 ' T h e s t r u c t u r e of Representation: Music a n d L a n
guage', ( i n ) E.W.B. Hess-Lttich ( e d . ) l l , pp.450-478.
296 O r g a n o n 80
1980 Smiologie et t h t r e .
297 Osolsob, Ivo
1979a ' S e g n i , modelli e t e a t r o ' , ( i n ) . P r e v i g n a n o ( e d . ) ,
La semiotica nei paesi s l a v i ( M i l a n o : Feltrinelli), pp.
236-240.
298 1979b ' I l t e a t r o che p a r l a , canta e baila - T e o r i a d i una forma
d i c o m u n i c a z i o n e ' , ( i n ) C. P r e v i g n a n o .
 531

299 1980 (ed.), pp.546-574.

299 1980a 'Cours de t h t r i s t i q u e gnrale', Etudes littraires
(dec), pp.413-435.
300 1980b ' T h e a t r e , Semiotics of' (ms.).
301 1981a ' A c t i n g and S h o w i n g ( A c t i n g and Ostension)' (paper
read at I A S P A , B r u s s e l s ) .
302 1981b 'Slovo j a k o e x p o n t , j a k o h r d i n a a j a k o h e r e c k p o s
t a v a : Enklvy divadla v jazyce a l i t e r a t u r e ' [Displaying
w o r d s and p l a y i n g w o r d s b y means of w o r d s . Enclaves
of t h e a t r e in language and l i t e r a t u r e ] , L i t t e r a r i a 10.
303 O s t e r w a l d e r , Hand
1978 T . S . E l i o t : between m e t a p h o r and m e t o n y m y : a s t u d y
of his essays and p l a y s in t e r m s of Roman J a k o b s o n ' s
typology ( B e r n : Francke).
304 P a g n i n i , Marcello
1976 S h a k e s p e a r e e il p a r a d i g m a della s p e c u l a r i t . L e t t u r a d i
d u e c a m p i o n i : ' K i n g Lear' a 'A M i d s u m m e r n i g h t ' s Dream'
(Pisa: Pacini).
305 1978 ' R i f l e s s i o n i sulla e n u n c i a z i o n e l e t t e r a r i a e in la p a r t i
colare sulla communicazione a t e a t r o ' , ( i n ) A . S e r p i e r i
et a l . , pp.171-180.
306 P a r r e t , Herman
1981 ' A r r i r e - p e n s e s p r v e n i t i e n n e s c o n c e r n a n t la d e i x i s et
l'interaction en s i t u a t i o n t h t r a l e ' (paper read at
IASPA, B r u s s e l s ) .
307 Passow, W i l f r i e d
1979a ' T h e a t r a l e P r o d u k t i o n und Rezeption im Labor d e r
Theaterwissenschaft', Z e i t s c h r i f t f r Semiotik 1 , 2 / 3 ,
pp.255-258.
308 1979b 'Forschungsbericht ber den theatersemiotischen
A s p e k t des F o r s c h u n g s v o r h a b e n s ' T h e a t e r im L a b o r ' ,
U n i v e r s i t t M n c h e n ' ( p a p e r read at IASS I I , V i e n n a ) .
309 1980a 'Die Inszenierung als T e x t - V o r b e r l e g u n g e n zum
strukturalen Aufbau des Bhnegeschehens', (in)
A . L a n g e - S e i d l ( H r s g . ) , Z e i c h e n k o n s t i t u t i o n . A k t e n des
2 . D G S - K o l l o q u i u m s , R e g e n s b u r g 1978 ( B e r l i n : W. de
Gruyter).
310 1980b ' T h e a t e r im L a b o r ' - ein E x p e r i m e n t am I n s t i t u t f r
T h e a t e r w i s s e n s c h a f t d e r U n i v e r s i t t M n c h e n mit b e
s o n d e r e r B e r c k s i c h t i g u n g des w i s s e n s c h a f t l i c h e n B e
r e i c h s 'Material u n d Zeichen - n o n v e r b a l e D a r s t e l l u n g s
m i t t e l im T h e a t e r " ( p a p e r read at U t r e c h t 1980).
311 1981a ' A f f e k t u n d W i r k u n g . Peirces I n t e r p r e t a n t e n b e g r i f f im
D i e n s t e e m p i r i s c h e r T h e a t e r s e m i o t i k am Beispiel des
Mandragola v o n Nicol M a c h i a v e l l i ' , ( i n ) E r n e s t Hess-
Lttich ( e d . ) I l , pp.335-254.
 532

312 1981b 'The Analysis of Theatrical Performance', Poetics T o

day 2, p.3.
313 1981c 'Eine H o l z p e r l e n k e t t e als R e q u i s i t . Die Realitt des
Gegenstandes u n d das B h n e n z e i c h e n ' ( p a p e r read at
DGS III, H a m b u r g ) .
314 P a u d u a n o , Guido
1979 'Oedipus a n d o t h e r f a b l e s of A l i e n a t i o n ' ( p a p e r read at
Calabria) .
315 Paul, Arno
1980 ' T h e West German t h e a t r e m i r a c l e : a structural ana
l y s i s ' , TDR 24, 1 , p p . 3 - 2 4 .
316 P u n , Gheorge
1976 'Language Associated t o a Dramatic W o r k ' , Revue
roumaine de L i n g u i s t i q u e 2 1 , p p . 6 0 5 - 6 1 1 .
317 P a v e l , Thomas
1976 La s y n t a x e n a r r a t i v e des t r a g d i e s de C o r n e i l l e . Re
c h e r c h e s et P r o p o s i t i o n s (Paris & Ottawa: Klinksieck
et E d . de l ' u n i v . d ' O t t a w a ) .
318 Pavis, Patrice
1976a ' T h o r i e d u t h t r e et smiologie: s p h r e de l ' o b j e t et
s p h r e s de l'homme', Semiotica 16, 1 , p p . 4 5 - 6 6 .
319 1976b Problmes de smiologie t h t r a l e (Quebec: Presses de
l ' u n i v . de Q u e b e c ) .
320 1976c ' R e p r s e n t a t i o n , mise en s c n e , mise en s i g n e ' , Journal
canadien de r e c h e r c h e s m i o t i q u e .
321 1977 'Le c o r p s s o c i a l ' , T r a v a i l t h t r a l 2 8 / 2 9 .
322 1978a 'Remarques sur le discours thtral', Degrs 13, h-
h10.
323 1978b 'Mise au p o i n t s u r le G e s t u s ' , Silex 7.
324 1978c 'Des smiologies t h t r a l e s ' , T r a v a i l t h t r a l 3 1 .
325 1978d ' D b a t s u r la smiologie d u t h t r e ' , V e r s u s 2 1 .
326 1979a ' I l d i s c o r s o de la c r i t i c a t e a t r a l e ' , Q u a d e r n i d i T e a t r o
5.
327 1979b 'Notes t o w a r d a semiotic a n a l y s i s ( c o n c e r n i n g D i s p a r a
t i o n s ) , TDR 23, pp.93-104.
328 1979c 'Fondements d ' u n e smiologie d u t h t r e s u r la d i s t i n c
t i o n de Peirce e n t r e i c n e , symbole et i n d e x ' ( i n ) P r o
c e e d i n g s of IASS I , Milan 1974.
329 1979d 'Smiologie du thtre et t h o r i e de la rception'
( p a p e r read at IASS I I , V i e n n a ) .
330 1980a Dictionnaire du thtre ( P a r i s : Ed. Sociales).
 533

331 1980b ' V e r s u n e e s t h t i q u e de la r c e p t i o n t h t r a l e . V a r i a

t i o n s s u r q u e l q u e s r e l a t i o n s ' , ( i n ) V . B o u r g y et R.
Durand ( e d s . ) .
332 1980c Towards a Semiotics of Mise en Scne? (Michigan:
UMP).
333 1980d ' L ' e s p a c e des Fausses c o n f i d e n c e s et les fausses c o n f i
dences de l ' e s p a c e ' , O r g a n o n 8 0 , p p . 153-193.
334 1980e 'Pirandello and Marivaux' (paper read at B C L A , Can
terbury).
335 1980f 'Semiotics of T h e a t r e ' , C r i t i c a l A r t s 3 .
336 1980g ' I l d i s c o r s o del mimo', ( i n ) Mimo e Mimi ( M i l a n o : Casa
Usher).
337 1981a ' D i r e et f a i r e au t h t r e . S u r les stances d u C i d ' , ( i n )
J . Savona ( e d . ) .
338 1981b 'Problmes of a semiology of t h e a t r i c a l G e s t u r e ' , Poetics
Today 2, p.3.
339 1981c 'Rflexions sur la n o t a t i o n t h t r a l e ' , Revue d ' H i s t o i r e
du Thtre.
340 1981d ' R e f l e c t i o n s on t h e N o t a t i o n of T h e a t r i c a l P e r f o r m a n c e ' ,
( i n ) Ernest Hess-Lttich ( e d . ) , I I , pp.293-334.
341 Pellegrino, -Ceccarelli, Alba
1979 'La scne et la salle in t r e a t t i u n i c i della s t r u t t u r a
c i r c o l a r e : Huis c l o s , La l e o n , V o t r e F a u s t ' , L e t t o r e d i
Provincia 39, p p . 7 9 - 8 3 .
342 1981 " A v o u s de j o u e r , c h r e a s s i s t e n c e ! ' . Smiologie d u
t e x t e d r a m a t i q u e et sociologie d u p u b l i c ' ( p a p e r read
at l A S P A , B r u s s e l s ) .
343 P e t e r s , Jean Marie
1980 'Verfilmd toneel. [Stage Productions in Cinematogra
p h y ] - S c e n a r i u m 4 , p p . 7 1 - 8 2 , 153.
344 Pfister, Manfred
1977 Das D r a m a . T h e o r i e u n d A n a l y s e ( M n c h e n : Fink).
345 1978 'Kommentar, Metasprache und Metakommunikation in
Hamlet', ( i n ) Jahrbuch der deutschen Shakespeare-Ge
sellschaft.
346 1979 " E l o q u e n c e is A c t i o n ' : S p r e c h e n als Handeln im Drama
Shakespeares aus d e r S i c h t d e r S p r e c h a k t t h e o r i e ' ( m s . ) .
347 Pladdot, Dinnah
1981 ' T h e Dynamics of t h e S i g n System in t h e T h e a t r e ' ,
( i n ) Ernest Hess-Lttich ( e d . ) , I l , p p . 2 6 - 5 2 .
348 P l a t z - W a u r y , E.
1978 Drama u n d T h e a t e r ; eine E i n f h r u n g (Tbingen).
 534

349 Poetica 8 , 3 / 4
1976 Dramentheorie - Handlungstheorie (Amsterdam: Gr
ner).
350 Poetics 6 , 3 / 4
1977 T h e f o r m a l s t u d y of drama (Amsterdam: North-Hol
land).
351 Poetics T o d a y 2 , 3
1981 Drama/ T h e a t r e , Performance (Tel Aviv).
352 P o n t b r i a n d , Chantal
1980 'Performance; presence et t e m p o r a l i t ' (paper read at
Thtralit, Toronto).
353 P o p p e , Emile
1981 A n a l y s e smiotique de l'espace spectaculaire (Paris:
Thse I I I ) .
354 Poyatos, Fernando
1981 ' N o n v e r b a l Communication in t h e T h e a t r e : t h e P l a y
w r i g h t / A c t o r / S p e c t a t o r - R e l a t i o n s h i p ' , ( i n ) E r n e s t Hess-
Lttich ( e d . ) , I l , pp.96-122.
355 P r a t i q u e s 15/16
1977 Thtre .
356 P r a t i q u e s 24
1979 Thtre .
357 Prochzka, Miroslav
1977 ' smiotice d i v a d l a ' [ O n Semiotics of T h e a t r e ] , Esteti -
ka 14, p . 1 .
358 1978 ' J i n d r i c h Honzl a o t z k y t e o r i e d i v a d e l n h o z n a k u ' [ J .
Honzl a n d t h e problems of T h e o r y of S i g n s in T h e a t r e ]
E s t e t i k a 15, p . 2 .
359 1979a 'U zklad s m i o t i k y d i v a d l a l - l I : Smiotick trnata v
cesk mezivlecn t e a t r o l o g i i ' [ A t t h e r o o t s of T h e o r y
o f S i g n s in T h e a t r e ] , Wiener S l a w i s t i s c h e r Almanach
4/5.
360 1980 ' A s p e k t y reci v d r a m a t i c k m t e x t u ' [ A s p e c t s of lan
g u a g e in d r a m a t i c t e x t s ] , Umnovdn s t u d i e 2 .
361 1979b 'Spor povahu jednoho t y p u divadla' [Dispute concern
i n g one t y p e o f t h e a t r e ] , ( p a p e r read at t h e Zich C o n
ference, Prague).
362 ... 'On t h e n a t u r e of d r a m a t i c t e x t ' ( m s . ) .
363 R a l i n o f s k y , D.
1976 Die G e s t a l t u n g z w i s c h e n m e n s c h l i c h e r B e z i e h u n g e n im
Drama d e r M o d e r n e . T r a d i t i o n u n d M u t a t i o n ( F r a n k f u r t
/ M . : Mnchen).
 535

364 Rendon, Brenda

1979 ' U t i l i z a t i o n of t h e Semiotic S q u a r e in A n a l y z i n g t h e
T h e a t r e of H e n r y de M o n t h e r l a n t ' ( p a p e r read a t IASS
I I , Vienna).
365 1981 ' T r i a d i c s t r u c t u r e s i n t h e Plays of H e n r y de M o n t h e r
lant', ( i n ) Ernest Hess-Lttich ( e d . ) , I l , pp.386-409.
366 R e n k , H e r t a E.
1978 'Anmerkungen zur Beziehung zwischen Musiktheater
u n d S e m i o t i k ' , ( i n ) D. Mack ( H r s g . ) , Theaterarbeit
an Wagners R i n g ' ( M n c h e n ; Z r i c h : P i p e r ) , p p . 2 7 5 -
288.
367 1981 ' A n m e r k u n g e n zu analoger u n d d i g i t a l e r K o m m u n i k a t i o n
i n d r a m a t i s c h e n T e x t e n ' ( p a p e r read at T h e a t e r s e m i o t i k ,
Mnchen).
368 Revue d ' E s t t i q u e 1/2
1977 L'envers du thtre .
369 Revue des Sciences Humaines 162, p.2.
1976 Le mlodrame.
370 Rojtman, Betty
1976 Forme et s i g n i f i c a t o n dans le t h t r e de B e c k e t t (Pa
ris: Nizet).
371 1977 ' U n r e t o u r l ' o r i g i n e : Etude s t r u c t u r a l e de T o u s c e u x
q u i t o m b e n t ' , Romance Notes 18, p p . 1 1 - 1 7 .
372 1978a 'Une structure de recurrence: La d e r n i r e b a n d e ' ,
Hebrew U n i v e r s i t y S t u d i e s in L i t e r a t u r e 6 , p p . 2 9 4 - 3 2 0 .
373 1978b 'Emploi d u d i s c o u r s i n d i r e c t dans Les serments indis
c r e t s de M a r i v a u x ' , Degrs 13, k - k 2 .
374 1980 'Communication et c o n v e n t i o n chez M a r i v a u x ' , Organon
80, p p . 9 - 2 6 .
375 R o s s i - L a n d i , Feruccio
1976 ' G e s e l l s c h a f t l i c h e A k t i o n u n d d i a l e k t i s c h e P r o z e d u r im
T h e a t e r ' ( i n ) F. R o s s i - L a n d i , S e m i o t i k , s t h e t i k u n d
Ideologie ( M n c h e n : H e n s e r ) , p p . 5 1 - 6 8 .
376 Roventa, Daniela
1981 ' T h e a r t i c u l a t i o n of t h e semiotic codes i n t h e T h e a t r e
of t h e A b s u r d ' , ( i n ) E r n e s t H e s s - L t t i c h ( e d . ) , I l ,
pp.410-429.
377 R u f f i n i , Franco
1976a 'Semiotica del t e a t r o : p e r u n ' e p i s t e m o l o g i a degli studi
t e a t r a l i ' , B i b l i o t e c a t e a t r a l e 14, p p . 1-27.
378 1976b ' A n a l i s i c o n t e s t u a l e della C a l a n d r i a nella r a p p r e s e n t a
zione u r b i n a t e del 1513: I . Il luogo t e a t r a l e ' , B i b l i o t e c a
teatrale 15/16.
379 1978a Semiotica del t e s t o : l'esempio t e a t r o ( R o m a : B u l z o n i ) .
 536

380 1978b ' I n t e r v e n t o : Teatro e semiotica', Versus 2 1 .

381 1979a 'Signify/Communicate: Theatrical In-communication'
( p a p e r r e a d at C a l a b r i a ) .
382 1979b 'Per r i d e r e ' , Inteatro.
383 1980 ' L ' a v a n g u a r d i a t e a t r a l e e g l i s t u d i e sul t e a t r o ' ( p a p e r
read at t h e A v a n t - g a r d e I t a l i a n t h e a t r e C o n f . C o p e n
hagen).
384 Russeil, Annick
1981 'La r e p r s e n t a t i o n g e s t u e l l e d u p o u v o i r chez L e n y
Escudero e t R u f u s ' ( p a p e r read at I A S P A , B r u s s e l s ) .
385 R u t e l l i , Romana
1978a ' E s p e r i m e n t i p r e l i m i n a r i d i segmentazione su b r a n i d i
A r d e n , Seneca, P i r a n d e l l o ' , ( i n ) A . S e r p i e r i e t a l . ,
pp.55-69.
386 1978b ' D u e f r a m m e n t i d i Romeo a n d J u l i e t . La manifestazione
metalinguistica e paralinguistica della deissi', (in)
A . S e r p i e r i et a l . , p p . 9 2 - 9 6 .
387 1978c 'Formalizzazione d e l l ' i p o t e s i t e o r i c a d i S e r p i e r i sulla
s p e c i f i t d e i t t i c o - p e r f o r m a t i v a del l i n g u a g g i o d r a m m a
t i c o , ( i n ) A . S e r p i e r i et a l . , p p . 1 4 9 - 1 6 2 .
388 1978d 'Romeo e G i u l l i e t t a ' : l ' e f f a b i l e ( M i l a n o : Il F o r m i c h i e r e ) .
389 1979a ' P o l o n i o : la r e t o r i c a d e l l ' a u t o p r e d i c a z i o n e e la d i s s o l u
zione d i u n modello c u l t u r a l e ' , S t r u m e n t i c r i t i c i 38.
390 1979b 'Dialogical C o n s t i t u t i o n and R e t r o a c t i o n in t h e Dramatic
T e x t ' (paper read at C a l a b r i a ) .
391 S a i s o n , M.
1978 ' Q u e l q u e s notes s u r les j e u x d ' o b j e t s au t h t r e ' , De
g r s 13, I-I2.
392 S a l l e n a v e , D a n i e l l e , et S i l v a i n Roumette
1977 ' L ' a p p r o c h e smiologique des r a p p o r t s e n t r e t h t r e et
cinma' ( p a p e r read at T a b l e r o n d e , P a r i s ) .
393 Savona, Jeannette
1980 'La d i d a s c a k i e comme acte de parole' (paper read at
Thtralit, Toronto).
394 Savona, Jeannette ( e d . )
1981 T h t r e et t h t r a l i t . A c t e s d u Colloque ' T h t r a l i t ' ,
T o r o n t o , 1980 ( M o n t r a l : E d . L i t t r a i r e s ) .
395 Schlzky, Heribert
1981a ' T h e a t e r im semantischen Raum' ( p a p e r read at T h e a t e r -
semiotik, Mnchen).
396 1981b 'Semiotik u n d E m p i r i e : K o o p e r a t i o n s p r o b l e m e z w i s c h e n
W i s s e n s c h a f t s d i s z i p l i n e n , die t h e a t r a l e Realitt e r f a s s e n
w o l l e n ' ( p a p e r read at DGS I I I , H a m b u r g ) .
 537

397 Schmid, Herta

1973 S t r u k t u r a l i s t i s c h e D r a m e n t h e o r i e . Semantische A n a l y s e
v o n echovs " I v a n o v " u n d " D e r K r i s c h g a r t e n " . Kron-
b e r g / T s . , S c r i p t o r Verlag (= S k r i p t e n der L i t e r a t u r
wissenschaft. 23).
398 1975 ' E n t w i c k l u n g s s c h r i t t e zu e i n e r m o d e r n e n D r a m e n t h e o r i e
im r u s s i s c h e n Formalismus u n d im t s c h e c h i s c h e n S t r u k
t u r a l i s m u s ' , ( i n ) A . v a n K e s t e r e n , H. Schmid ( e d . ) ,
Moderne D r a m e n t h e o r i e , K r o n b e r g / T s . , S c r i p t o r V e r l a g
(= M o n o g r a p h i e n d e r L i t e r a t u r w i s s e n s c h a f t ) .
399 1976 ' I s t d i e H a n d l u n g d i e K o n s t r u k t i o n s d o m i n a n t e des D r a
mas? echovs D r e i S c h w e s t e r n als B e g i n n e i n e r P a r a
d i g m a e r w e i t e r u n g d e r d r a m a t i s c h e n G a t t u n g ' , Poetica
82, pp.177-207.
400 1978a 'Die B e d e u t u n g des d r a m a t i s c h e n Raums in A . P . e
c h o v s V i s n e v y j sad ( D e r K i r s c h g a r t e n ) u n d A . S t r i n d
b e r g s G e s p e n s t e r s o n a t e , ( i n ) S l a v i s t i s c h e B e i t r g e zum
Zagreber Slavistenkongre, Bd.119, pp.149-198.
401 1978b 'Ein B e i t r a g z u r d e s k r i p t i v e m d r a m a t i s c h e n Poetik.
P r i n z i p i e n des d r a m a t i s c h e n T e x t - u n d B e d e u t u n g s a u f
baus', ( i n ) J . van der Eng, J . M . Meijer, H.Schmid,
On t h e T h e o r y of D e s c r i p t i v e P o e t i c s : A n t o n P. C h e k h o v
as S t o r y - T e l l e r and P l a y w r i g h t , L i s s e , p p . 147-209.
402 1978c ' T h e m a t i s c h e A n a l y s e v o n echovs Djadja Vanja ( O n k e l
V a n j a ) u n d O s t r o v s k i j s Groza (Das G e w i t t e r ) , (in)
A . G . P . v a n Holk ( e d . ) , Z u g n g e zu O s t r o v s k i j - A p
proaches to O s t r o v s k y , K-Presse, Bremen, pp.3-89,
pp.239-245.
403 1979a ' I n g r i d M l l e r - Z a n n o t h , Der Dialog in P i n t e r s D r a m e n ,
A s p e k t e s e i n e r k o m m u n i k a t i v e n F u n k t i o n . Poetica, 1 1 ,
p p . 3 - 4 , 524-535.
404 1979b 'Vom a b s u r d e n T h e a t e r zum T h e a t e r des Appells.
V c l a v Havels E n t w i c k l u n g in den 70er J a h r e n ' , Z e i t
schrift f r Literaturwissenschaft und Linguistik ( L i L i ) ,
35, p p . 1 1 8 - 1 3 1 .
405 1980a 'Das T h e a t e r als g e s e l l s c h a f t l i c h e I n s t i t u t i o n im R u
land des 19. J a h r h u n d e r t s ' , ( i n ) K. H i e l s c h e r ( e d . ) ,
R u l a n d s g r o e R e a l i s t e n . D i c h t e r , Maler u n d M u s i k e r
des 19. J a h r h u n d e r t s , ( 4 . D u i s b u r g e r A k z e n t e ) , p p .
37-55.
406 1980b ' Z u r E n t w i c k l u n g des Dramas bei e c h o v ' , ( i n ) R u
lands g r o e R e a l i s t e n . D i c h t e r , Maler u n d M u s i k e r des
19. J a h r h u n d e r t s . ( V o r t r g e ) , ( 4 . D u i s b u r g e r A k z e n
te), pp.43-53.
 538

407 1980c ' S y m m e t r i e , G r a d a t i o n u n d Focus in P u s k i n s k l e i n e r

T r a g d i e Mocart i S a l ' e r i ' , ( i n ) Voz'mi na r a d o s t ' . T o
H o n o u r Jeanne v a n d e r E n g - L i e d m e i e r , A m s t e r d a m , p p .
37-55.
408 1981a ' I n g r i d D l u g o s c h , echov u n d das T h e a t e r des A b s u r
d e n , Welt d e r S l a v e n , 2 6 , 1 , p p . 2 0 4 - 2 1 2 .
409 1981b 'Das V e r f a h r e n des I l l u s i o n s b r u c h s i n B u l g a k o v s B a -
grovyj ostroy (Die rote Insel)', Canadian A m e r i c a n
Slavic Studies, f o r t h c o m i n g .
410 1981c ' D e r F u n k t i o n s b e g r i f f des t s c h e c h i s c h e n S t r u k t u r a l i s
mus in d e r T h e o r i e u n d in d e r l i t e r a t u r w i s s e n s c h a f t
lichen Analyse. Am Beispiel v o n Havels Berghotel
( H o r s k y h o t e l ) , ( i n ) , M. C e r v e n k a , P. S t e i n e r ( e d . ) ,
T h e S t r u c t u r e of L i t e r a r y P r o c e s s : S t u d i e s Dedicated t o
t h e Memory of Felix V o d i c k a , A m s t e r d a m , f o r t h c o m i n g .
411 Schnell, J.
1976 ' D r a m a t i s c h e S t r u k t u r e n u n d soziales H a n d e l n . Didak
t i s c h e b e r l e g u n g e n z u r L e k t r e v o n Lessings Nathan
d e r Weise', D e u t s c h u n t e r r i c h t 2 8 , p p . 4 6 - 5 4 .
412a Schoenmakers, Henry
1979- ' P u b l i e k s o n d e r z o e k in het k a d e r v a n v o o r s t e l l i n g s a n a l y -
1980 se' [Audience r e s e a r c h and p e r f o r m a n c e analysis],
T i j d s c h r i f t voor Theaterwetenschap 2, pp.37-53; 3,
pp.4-24.
412b 1979b 'Cloud C u c k o s l a n d M'. Een s t u d i e v o o r reacties v a n h e t
p u b l i e k . [ C . C . I I . I n v e s t i g a t i o n of audience r e a c t i o n ] .
(Amsterdam: Mickery).
413 1981a ' T h e t a c i t m a j o r i t y in t h e t h e a t r e ' , (in) Ernest Hess-
Lttich ( e d . ) , I l , pp.142-197.
414 1981b "Wie g e h t das T h e a t e r dem P u b l i k u m auf d i e N e r v e n ;
Inszenierungsanalyse und Rezeptionsforschung als
Sttze einer kognitiven Auffhrungstheorie' (paper
read at DGS I I I , H a m b u r g ) .
415 Schoenmakers, H e n r y and Ed T a n
1979a 'De semantische d i f f e r e n t i a a l als o n d e r z o e k s i n s t r u m e n t
voor de t h e a t e r w e t e n s c h a p ' [ T h e semantic d i f f e r e n t i a l
as a tool of a n a l y s i s f o r T h e a t r e R e s e a r c h ] , T i j d s c h r i f t
voor Theaterwetenschap 1 , pp.13-28.
416 1981 ' E m p i r i c a l Reception Research in T h e a t r e ' (paper read
at T h e a t e r s e m i o t i k , M n c h e n ) .
417 S c h t t e l n d r e y e r , A . M . and S . H . L e v i n s o n
1976 ' T h e Lato f o l k t a l e as a p l a y in acts and scenes',
Poetics 5.
 539

418 S c h o l l , Amde A .
1976 'Zeichen u n d Bezeichnetes im Werk F r i e d r i c h D r r e n -
m a t t s ' , ( i n ) G.P. Knapp ( H r s g . ) / F r i e d r i c h D r r e n
m a t t : S t u d i e n zu seinem Werk (Heidelberg: Stienen),
pp.203-217.
419 Schreurs, Bernadette
1979 'Mtanalyse d ' u n texte thtral' (paper read at lASS
I I , Vienna).
420 1981 D i s c o u r s et action dans l ' u v r e d r a m a t i q u e d'Arthur
Adamov ( D i s s . L o u v a i n ) .
421 S c h u l z e , Joachim
1976 'Was macht das Drama dramatisch?', Poetica 8, 3/4,
pp.346-355.
422 Schwarz, Wolfgang
1978 Drama als s z e n i s c h e r T e x t (Frankfurt/M., Las
V e g a s : Peter L a n g ) .
423 S c h w a r z , Wolfgang u n d W i n f r i e d Baumann
f.. D r a m e n t h e o r i e des t s c h e c h i s c h e n S t r u k t u r a l i s m u s .
Avantgardistische Praxis und wissenschaftliche Metho
d i k ( F r a n k f u r t / M . , B e r n , Las V e g a s : P. L a n g ) .
424 S e g r e , Cesare
1981 ' N a r r a t o l o g y and T h e a t e r ' , Poetics T o d a y 2 , p.3.
425 Serpieri, Alessandro
1977a 'La r e t o r i c a della poltica in Shakespeare', Il piccolo
Hans 13, p p . 1 1 1 - 1 3 6 .
426 1977b ' I p o t e s i t e o r i c a di segmentazione del t e s t o t e a t r a l e ' ,
Strumenti critici 32/33, pp.90-135 ( i n : A . S e r p i e r i et
al., pp.11-54).
427 1978a ' O t e l l o ' . L'eros negato ( M i l a n o : Il Formichiere).
428 1978b 'Propositions thoriques du dcoupage de t e x t e th
t r a l ' , Degrs 13, p p . i - i 2 .
429 1978c ' I l c r o l l o della g e r a r c h i a medievale in King Lear', II
piccolo Hans 19, p p . 1 3 1 - 1 4 6 .
430 1979a ' R e t o r i c a e modello della c u l t u r a nel d r a m m a ' , ( i n ) II
modello della c u l t u r a e i codici (Pavia: GJES), pp.
146-163.
431 1981 ' T o w a r d a segmentation of the dramatic t e x t ' , Poetics
Today 2, p.3.
432 S e r p i e r i , A l e s s a n d r o et a l .
1978 Come comunica il t e a t r o : dal t e s t o alla scena ( M i l a n o : Il
Formichiere).
433 Sherzer, Dina
1978a ' D i a l o g i c I n c o n g r u i t i e s in t h e T h e a t e r of t h e Absurd',
Semiotica 2 2 , 3 / 4 , p p . 2 8 7 - 3 0 8 .
 540

434 1978b ' D e - c o n s t r u c t i o n in Waiting f o r G o d o t ' , ( i n ) B . A . B a b -

cock (ed.)/ T h e r e v e r s i b l e w o r l d : symbolic i n v e r s i o n
in a r t and s o c i e t y ( I t h a c a , N . Y . : Cornell U P ) , pp.
129-146.
435 1979a ' L a n g a g e l i t t r a i r e , langage s o c i a l ' , L a n g u a g e a n d S t y l e
12, 4 , p p . 2 2 8 - 2 4 4 .
436 1979b Endgame, o r w h a t t a l k can d o ' , Modern Drama 2 2 , p p .
291-303.
437 1981 ' D i d i , Gogo, Pozzo, L u c k y : linguistes dconstructeurs',
( i n ) J . Savona ( e d . ) .
438 Simon, A l f r e d
1976 Les signes et les s o n g e s . Essai s u r le t h t r e et la
fte (Paris: Seuil).
439 Sinko, Grzegorz
1977 K r y z y s j e z y k a w dramacie w s p c z e s n y m [ C r i s i s of l a n
g u a g e in c o n t e m p o r a r y d r a m a ] ( W r o c a w : O s s o l i n s k i c h ,
PAN).
440 1980 'La c r i s e d u langage dans le t h t r e c o n t e m p o r a i n .
I l l u s i o n ou r a l i t ' , O r g a n o n 8 0 , p p . 2 5 9 - 2 8 7 .
441 Sawiska, Irena
1976 'La s t r u c t u r e t e m p o r e l l e d u drame b r e c h t i e n ' , (La Vie
de G a l i l e ) ' , ZRL 19, 2 , p p . 3 5 - 4 7 .
442 1977 'La smiologie d u t h t r e in s t a t u n a s c e n d i ' , Roczniki
H u m a n i s t y c z n e 25, p . 1 .
443 1978 'La semiologia del t e a t r o in s t a t u n a s c e n d i : Praga 1 9 3 1 -
1941', Biblioteca teatrale.
444 S a w i s k a , I r e n a ( e d . )
1977 La t h t r o l o g i e l ' h e u r e a c t u e l l e - R f l e x i o n s m t h o d o
logiques ( L u b l i n ) .
445 Sopher, H.
1979 ' D i s c o u r s e a n a l y s i s : t h e h i e r a r c h i c s t r u c t u r e of mean
i n g - c o n t e n t ' , J o u r n a l of L i t e r a r y Semantics 8 , p p . 100-
108.
446 S p a r i o s u , Minai
1981 ' T h e o r y of P l a y . Method, history' (paper read at
IASPA, Brussels) .
447 S t e r i a d i - B o g d a n , Mariana
1977 ' T h e e v o l u t i o n of t h e p l o t and problems of s t r a t e g y in
a d e t e c t i v e p l a y ' , Poetics 6 , 3 / 4 , p p . 3 7 5 - 3 8 2 .
448 Stierle, Karlheinz
1976a ' b e r den Zusammenhang v o n H a n d l u n g s t h e o r i e und
H a n d l u n g s p o e t i k ' , Poetica 8 , 3 / 4 , p p . 3 2 1 - 3 2 6 .
449 1976b 'Das L i e b e s g e s t n d n i s in Racines P h d r e u n d das V e r
h l t n i s v o n ( S p r a c h - ) h a n d l u n g u n d T a t ' , Poetica 8,
3/4, pp.359-365.
 541

450 Stillman, Linda

1979 'Doubling of sign and image in Roland Dubillard's La
maison d'os', Sub-stance 2 2 , p p . 8 5 - 9 5 .
451 Stone, Jennifer
1979 'Mirror-image/Collage: Reality, Representation and Re
volution in Pirandello', ( i n ) 1936: T h e Sociology of
Literature ( E s s e x ) .
452 ...a 'Theatrical Designs and Events: a development of Ja-
kobson's t h e o r y of verse' ( m s . ) .
453 ...b 'Towards a New Theatrical Grammar: Gramsci and
Avanti!' (ms.) .
454 ... 'Masques and Madness: a study of power and the
stage' (ms. ) .
455 Sub-stance 18/19
1977 T h e a t r e in France. Ten years of research.
456 S u v i n , Darko
1976 'Brecht's Caucasian Chalk Circle and Marxist F i g u r a
t i o n : Open Dramaturgy as Open H i s t o r y ' , ( i n ) N. R u -
ditch ( e d . ) , Weapons of Criticism: Marxism in America
and the L i t e r a r y T r a d i t i o n (Palo Alto: R a m p a r t s ) , p p .
341-357.
457 1979 'Vidovi politike drame', Pelo 25, 1 1 , p p . 1 2 6 - 1 4 1 .
458 1980 'Towards a theory of Agential Analysis: example of a
Dramaturgy' ( p a p e r read at B C L A , C a n t e r b u r y ) .
459 T a l e n s , Jenaro et a l .
1978 Elementos para una semitica del texto artstico (poesa,
narrativa, teatro,cine) (Madrid: Ctedra).
460 T a n , Ed
1980 'Identificatie: Je moet er mee leven' [Identification.
You have to live with i t ' ] , T i j d s c h r i f t voor T h e a t e r
wetenschap 4 , p p . 4 2 - 6 1 .
461 1981 'Cognitive Processes in Reception', (in) Ernest Hess-
Lttich ( e d . ) , I l , p p . 1 9 8 - 2 6 2 .
462 T h e Drama Review ( T D R ) 23
1979 'Semiotic analysis section', T D R 23, p p . 6 7 - 1 2 0 .
463 T e o d o r e s c u - B r n z e u , Pia
1977 'A systemic approach to the t h e a t r e ' , Poetics 6, 3/4,
pp.351-374.
464 1979 'Aspects of semiotic codification in the Elisabethan
T h e a t r e ' ( p a p e r read at IASS I I , V i e n n a ) .
465 ... 'Stage directions in the reception of the dramatic t e x t ;
Shakespearean monologues' ( m s . ) .
 542

466 Thomas, Johannes

1977 S t u d i e n zu e i n e r Poetik d e r k l a s s i s c h e n franzsischen
T r a g d i e , 1673-1678 ( F r a n k f u r t / M . ) .
467 Tielert, Brigitte
1979 'Rezeption von Synge und Situationsmodell', ( i n ) W.A.
Koch (Hrsg.), Semiotische V e r s u c h e zu l i t e r a r i s c h e n
S t r u k t u r e n ( H i l d e s h e i m , O l m s ) , p p . 1-142.
468 T i n d e m a n s , Carlos
1976 ' T h e T h e a t r e P o s t e r : a Semiotic A p p r o a c h ' , ( i n ) A c t e s
of t h e 11th I n t e r n a t i o n a l C o n g r e s s of S I B M A S C o p e n h a
gen 1975 ( C o p e n h a g e n ) , p p . 2 8 - 3 3 .
469 1977a 'Teaching Theatre Semiotics', A I C T Bulletin 8, pp.32-
39.
470 1977b 'Frame A n a l y s i s and T h e a t r e S t u d y ' , AICT Bulletin 8,
pp.94-103.
471 1977c ' T h e T h e a t r e P u b l i c . A Semiotic a p p r o a c h ' , ( i n ) Das
T h e a t e r u n d sein P u b l i k u m ( W i e n : A W ) , p p . 3 2 - 4 3 .
472 1978a ' C e n t r u m v o o r T h e a t e r o n d e r z o e k . Behoefte en n o o d
zaak' [ C e n t r e f o r T h e a t r e R e s e a r c h . Need and Neces-
i t y ] , Ons E r f d e e l 2 1 , p p . 7 1 - 8 3 .
473 1978b ' V o o r s t e l l i n g s a n a l y s e . Enkele ( v o o r z i c h t i g e ) m e t h o d o l o
g i s c h e o p e n i n g e n ' [ P e r f o r m a n c e A n a l y s i s . Some ( c a r e
f u l ) methodological s u g g e s t i o n s ] , S c e n a r i u m 3 , p p . 5 6 -
66, 112.
474 1979a 'Ziele u n d Methoden d e r T h e a t e r w i s s e n s c h a f t als Uni
versittsdisziplin: Belgien', Maske u n d K o t h u r n 25,
1/2, pp.49-52.
475 1979b ' S t r u c t u r a l A s p e c t s of T h e a t r e C r i t i c i s m ' ( p a p e r at t h e
4th International Theatre Critics, Symposium, Novi
Sad).
476 1979c ' T h e A c t o r and t h e C r i t i c . A s p e c t s of Relationship',
( i n ) T h e Book of t h e A c t o r (Novi Sad: S t e r i j i n o Po-
zorje), pp.326-335.
477 1979d 'Toeschouwersperspectief en a c t i o n i s m e . I n t e n t i e en
effect van het vormingtheater1 [Spectator's perspective
and a c t i o n i s m . I n t e n t i o n and e f f e c t of e d u c a t i o n a l t h e a
t r e ] , ( i n ) B l i j f n i e t gelaten op w o n d e r e n w a c h t e n ( A n t
werpen), pp.55-73.
478 1979e 'Theatergeschiedenis' [Theatre H i s t o r y ] , Streven ( o c t . ) ,
pp.77-79.
479 1979f ' T h e a t r e v a n de v e r a n d e r i n g . T e r u g b l i k op de j a r e n
s e s t i g ' [ T h e a t r e of c h a n g e . R e t r o s p e c t on T h e S i x t i e s ] ,
(in) H a n d e l i n g e n v a n h e t 35ste N e d e r l a n d s F i l o l o g e n
c o n g r e s , Leiden 1978 ( A m s t e r d a m : Holland U P ) , pp.
183-192.
 543

480 1980a ' B e t e k e n i s o v e r d r a c h t in het theater' (paper read at

Utrecht Conference).
481 1980b 'General M e t h o d o l o g y of T h e a t r e S t u d y : A T e n t a t i v e
F r a m e w o r k C o n c e p t ' ( p a p e r read at N I A S , W a s s e n a a r ) .
482 1981 'Coherence. Putting 'pieces' together' (paper read at
IASPA, Brussels).
483 T i n d e m a n s , C a r l o s ; B e r n a d e t t e S c h r e u r s and A l o y s i u s Van K e s t e -
ren
1981 ' T h e a t e r w e t e n s c h a p als i n t e r d i s c i p l i n a i r p r o c e s ' ( p a p e r
read at t h e 3 3 r d Flemish P h i l o l o g i s t s C o n f e r e n c e , A n t
werp 1981).
484 Tomaselli, Keyan
' T h e socio-semiotics of performance in Black South
African theatre' ( m s . ) .
485 T o r d e r a Sz, A n t o n i o
1978 ' T e o r a t c n i c a del anlisis teatral', (in) J . Talens et
a l . , pp.155-199.
486 T u l l o c h , John
1980 Chekhov: a s t r u c t u r a l i s t study ( L o n d o n : Macmillan).
487 Ubersfeld, Anne
1977 'Le Lieu d u d i s c o u r s ' , P r a t i q u e s 1 5 / 1 6 .
488 1978a L i r e le t h t r e ( P a r i s : E d . S o c i a l e s ) .
489 1978b 'Le j e u des c l a s s i q u e s ' , ( i n ) Voies de la c r a t i o n t h
trale (Paris: CNRS).
490 1978c 'La T a b l e Ronde I n t e r n a t i o n a l e de smiologie t h t r a l e ' ,
Degrs 13, b - b 3 .
491 1978d 'Adamov T o d a y : A R e c o n s i d e r a t i o n of Planchon's Ar
t h u r Adamov', Sub-stance 18/19, pp.182-188.
492 1979 'The Double and its Transformation in l'Amphitryon'
( p a p e r read at C a l a b r i a ) .
493 1980a L'objet thtral ( P a r i s : CNDP)
494 1980b 'Le s p e c t a t e u r , le p l a i s i r et les s i g n e s ' ( p a p e r read at
Thtralit, Toronto).
495 1981a ' T h e space of P h d r e ' , Poetics T o d a y 2 , p.3.
496 1981b L'Ecole d u s p e c t a t e u r ( P a r i s : E d . S o c i a l e s ) .
497 Van B a a k , J . J .
1979 ' T h e f u n c t i o n of t h e social s e t t i n g i n Groza b y A . N ,
O s t r o v s k i j ' , ( i n ) A . F . G . v a n Holk ( e d . ) , p p . 1 1 7 - 1 4 6 ,
251-252.
498 Vance S t a i a n o , K a t h r y n
1979 'A semiotic a p p r o a c h t o R i t u a l D r a m a ' , Semiotica 2 8 ,
3/4, pp.225-246.
 544

499 Van d e n B e r g h , Hans

1977 'De e s t h e t i c a v a n de d r a m a r e c e p t i e ' [ E s t h e t i c s of Drama
R e c e p t i o n ] , Scenarium 1 , p p . 4 8 - 5 8 .
500 1978a ' I n leunstoel of s c h o u w b u r g z a a k . Een w e r k i n g s e s t h e -
tische benadering van het genre-probleem' [A recep
t i o n - e s t h e t i c a p p r o a c h of t h e g e n r e p r o b l e m ] , (in)
R . T . Seghers ( r e d . ) , Receptie-esthetica. Grondlagen,
t h e o r i e en t o e p a s s i n g ( M u i d e n : D. C o u t i n h o ) , p p . 4 9 -
75.
501 1978b 'De i m p l i c i e t e t o e s c h o u w e r ' [The implicit spectator],
Spektator 7, pp.372-378.
502 1979a T e k s t e n v o o r t o e s c h o u w e r s . I n l e i d i n g in de d r a m a t h e o
rie [ T e x t s f o r spectators. Introduction to the t h e o r y
of d r a m a ] , ( M u i d e n b e r g : C o u t i n h o ) .
503 1979b 'Genreleer u i t Praag. Over J i r f V e l t r u s k y ' s Drama as
L i t e r a t u r e ' , Spektator 8, pp.490-494.
504 Van H o l k , A . G . F .
1978 ' T h e S y n t a x of H o n e s t y . A t h e m a t i c a n a l y s i s of O s t r o v -
k i j ' s P o v e r t y is No C r i m e ' , Essays i n Poetics 3 , p p . 4 1 -
76.
505 1979 'Semiotic S t r u c t u r e s in O s t r o v s k i j ' s p l a y s ' , ( i n ) A.G.F.
v a n Hoik ( e d . ) , p p . 1 4 7 - 2 3 7 , 253-258.
506 1980 ' T h e open message. On t h e S y n t a x of E n v y i n A . S .
P u s k i n ' s M o z a r t and S a l i e r i ' , Russian L i n g u i s t i c s 5 , 1 ,
pp.1-54.
507 1981 ' O v e r de s y n t a x i s v a n h a n d e l i n g en t h e m a t i e k in P u s
k i n ' s Mozart en S a l i e r i , ( i n ) H a n d e l i n g e n v a n h e t 36ste
N e d e r l a n d s F i l o l o g e n c o n g r e s , G r o n i n g e n 1980 (Amster
d a m : Holland U P ) , p p . 2 2 7 - 2 3 7 .
508 Van H o l k , A . G . F . ( e d . )
1979 Approaches to O s t r o v s k i j ( B r e m e n : Kafka-Presse).
509 Van K e s t e r e n , A l o y s i u s
1977 ' S p e l , s p e k t a k e l , t h e a t e r en t o n e e l ' [Game, Spectacle,
T h e a t r e , P l a y ] ( m s . 200 p p . ) .
510 1978 'Simplisme en s e k s , de K l i s j e e - m a n n e t j e s ' [Simplism a n d
s e x , a f i c t i o n a l d i a l o g u e ] , ( p a p e r r e a d at L e i d e n ) .
511 1979a 'Semiotische analyse van een voorstellingsanalyse'
[Semiotic A n a l y s i s of an A V P r e s e n t a t i o n of a Play
F r a g m e n t ] , Scenarium 3 , p p . 6 7 - 8 0 , 113-114.
512 1979b 'Personage en h a n d e l i n g . Een logische b e n a d e r i n g v a n
h e t p e r s o n a g e in d r a m a t e k s t e n ' [ C h a r a c t e r a n d a c t i o n .
A logical a p p r o a c h t o c h a r a c t e r in drama t e x t s ] , ( i n )
M. Bal ( r e d . ) , Mensen v a n p a p i e r ( A s s e n en B r u g g e :
Van Gorcum en O r i o n ) , p p . 6 0 - 7 1 .
 545

513 1979c 'De taal van Koot en Bie' [ T h e language of Koot and
B i e ] , ( i n ) Handelingen van het 35ste Nederlands Filo
logencongres, Leiden 1978 (Amsterdam: Holland U P ) ,
pp.239-243.
514 1980a 'Vier toneelbewerkingen van de Celestina. Een seman
tische analyse' [Towards a Semantic Analysis of Stage
Adaptations (La C e l e s t i n a ) ] , Scenarium 4 , p p . 104-117,
155-156.
515 1980b 'Theaterwetenschap; een pamflet' [ T h e a t r e Research; a
p a m p h l e t ] , T i j d s c h r i f t voor Theaterwetenschap 5, p p .
51-69.
516 1980c De taal van toneel [The language of t h e a t r e ] (Assen:
Van Gorcum).
517 1980d 'A Semio-logical Approach to the Study of T h e a t r e His
t o r y ' ( p a p e r read at B C L A , C a n t e r b u r y ) .
518 1980e 'Introduction to a Methodology of Theatre Research'
( p a p e r read at N I A S , Wassenaar).
519 1980f 'Receptie en deceptie in theater' [Reception and de
ception in t h e a t r e ] , ( p a p e r read at U t r e c h t ) .
520 1981a ' T h e a t r e , Video, and Incompetence', ( i n ) Ernest Hess-
Lttich ( e d . ) , I I , p p . 2 6 3 - 2 9 2 .
521 1981b Theaterwetenschap: Methodologie voor een jonge w e t e n
schap [ T h e a t r e Research; Methodology for a Young
Science] ( D i s s . A n t w e r p ) .
522 1981c 'Theaterwetenschap; een kader voor t h e o r e t i s c h , d e
scriptief en toegepast onderzoek' [ T h e a t r e Research; a
frame for t h e o r e t i c a l , d e s c r i p t i v e , and applied r e
s e a r c h ] , ( i n ) W. Hildebrand en T . Kuchenbuch ( r e d . ) ,
Problemen bij het receptieonderzoek bij f i l m , theater en
d r a m a ( t e k s t ) ( U t r e c h t : I n s t , voor T h e a t e r w e t e n s c h a p ) .
523 1981d 'Theorie van de Theatergeschiedsschrijving; een a a n
zet' [ T h e o r y of T h e a t r e Historiography; a proposition]
( p a p e r read at the VAL Conference, G a r d e r e n ) .
524 Van K e s t e r e n , Aloysius, Frans Bosboom en Wil Hildebrand
1980 'Theaterwetenschap; een ( n o g ) i r r e l e v a n t e hulpweten
schap' [ T h e a t r e Research; a ( y e t ) i r r e l e v a n t auxiliary
discipline] ( m s . ) .
525 Van Kesteren,. Aloysius en Marije Kweekel
1979 'Van roman naar beeldroman. Een nagelaten bekentenis
en zijn toneelbewerking' [From novel to drama; an
adaptation of Een nagelaten bekentenis] ( m s . , 1 2 0 p p . ) .
526 Van K e s t e r e n , Aloysius and Peter van Stapele
1981a Applied T h e a t r e T h e o r y ; A Semiotic Video Performance'
( p a p e r read at Theatersemiotik, M n c h e n ) .
 546

527 1981b '27 Theses on t h e a t r e and theatre research' (paper

read at IASPA, Brussels) .
528 1931c 'Explicit theory versus implicit ideology' ( p a p e r read at
DGS I I I , Hamburg) .
529 Van Kesteren, Aloysius, Peter Vijgeboom and Christian Dercon
1981 'De-Semiotism and the Future ( R e s e a r c h ) of the Per
forming A r t s ' , ( i n ) L. Aagaard-Mogensen ( e t a l . , A r t
in C u l t u r e ( G h e n t : Communication and Cognition) .
530 Van Kesteren, Aloysius et a l .
1980 'Verslag van een onderzoek naar de relatie a c t e u r s -
publiek bij de voorstelling Tamara van Bakuba' [Report
of an investigation to the relation actor-audience d u r
ing Tamara by Bakuba] ( m s . ) .
531 1980- 'Theater en ideologie' [ T h e a t r e and i d e o l o g y ] , Degrs
1981 24/25, g1-g19.
532 Van Zoest, A a r t
1980 'Semiotics and T h e a t r e ' (paper read at NIAS, Wasse
naar.
533 Van Z y l , John
1979 'Towards a Socio-Semiotics of Performance', Semiotic
scene 3, 2 , p p . 9 9 - 1 1 1 .
534 V e l t r u s k y , Jir
1976a 'The dramatic t e x t as a component of t h e a t e r ' , (in) L.
Matejka and I. T i t u n i k ( e d s . ) , p p . 9 4 - 1 1 7 .
535 1977a Drama as L i t e r a t u r e (Lisse. P. de R i d d e r ) .
536 1976b 'Contribution to the Semiotics of A c t i n g ' , ( i n ) L. Ma
tejka ( e d . ) , Sound, Sign and Meaning ( A n n Arbor:
U n i v . of Michigan P ) , p p . 5 5 3 - 6 0 6 .
537 1977b 'Puppets for A d u l t s : T h e T h t r e du Manitout', Sub-
stance 1 8 / 1 9 , p p . 1 0 5 - 1 1 1 .
538 1979 ' T h e a t r e in the C o r r i d o r : E . F . Burian's Production of
Alladine and Palomides', T D R 2 3 , p . 4 .
539 1981 'The Prague School T h e o r y of T h e a t e r ' , Poetics Today
2, p.3.
540 Verdaasdonk, Dorothea
1979 'Steen Jansen's linguistische dramamodel 1 [ T h e linguis
tic drama model of Steen J a n s e n ] , T i j d s c h r i f t voor
Theaterwetenschap 1 , p p . 4 8 - 5 4 .
541 Versus 21
1978 T e a t r o e semiotica .
542 Versus 22
1979 Teatro e communicazione g e s t u a l e .
 547

543 V i l l , Susanne
1981 'Das Zeichen als A r i a d n e - F a d e n - t h e a t r a l e , l i t e r a r i s c h e
u n d m u s i k a l i s c h e Zeichen i n R i c h a r d S t r a u s s ' A r i a d n e
a u f Naxos' ( p a p e r read at T h e a t e r s e m i o t i k , M n c h e n ) .
544 V i s c h , Marijke
1980 'De t o e s c h o u w e r b i j Peter H a n d k e . Een semiotische
analyse v a n Das Mndel w i l l V o r m u n d s e i n ' [ T h e s p e c
t a t o r and Peter H a n d k e . A semiotic a n a l y s i s ] , T i j d
s c h r i f t v o o r T h e a t e r w e t e n s c h a p 3, p p . 2 5 - 3 8 .
545 V o g t , C.
1981 'Langage et performance' (paper read at IASPA,
Brussels) .
546 Vrebos, Pascal
1978 ' A p p r o c h e smiologique de d e u x p r a t i q u e s t h t r a l e s
e x p r i m e n t a l e s : le Plan et le l a b o r a t o i r e V i c i n a l ' ,
D e g r s 15.
547 W a a r d e n b u r g , Elida
1981 ' C o n t e x t Formations on the Stage', (paper read at
lASPA, Brussels).
548 Weiblen, Cornelia
1981 'Projekt ' M ' , und viele Fragen offen' (paper read at
DGS III, H a m b u r g ) .
549 Wiingaard, Jytte
1976 Teatersemiologi ( K b e n h a v n : Berlingske).
550 Wiingaard, Jytte ( e d . )
1978 Den l e v e n d e Ibsen ( B o r g e n ) .
551 W i l k i n s o n , Robin
1980 ' S t r u c t u r e sotopique du Jardin aux b e t t e r a v e s ' , Or
ganon 8 0 , p p . 2 7 - 9 2 .
552 Zajac, Peter
1978 'Bertolt Brecht: lyricky a dramaticky t e x t ' , Slovensk
divadlo 26, pp.316-335.
553 Ycel, Tahsin
1981 ' E n o n c i a t i o n et spectacle populaire' (paper read at
IASPA, Brussels) .
554 Z e i j , Hanneke
1979 'Een p e r s o n a g e is ook maar geen mens. P e r s o n a g e b e
s c h r i j v i n g en p s y c h o l o g i s c h e c o m p l e x i t e i t ' [ A c h a r a c t e r
is o n l y u n h u m a n . C h a r a c t e r d e s c r i p t i o n and p s y c h o l
ogical c o m p l e x i t y ] , T i j d s c h r i f t v o o r T h e a t e r w e t e n s c h a p
1, pp.29-39.
555 1980a 'Een roman b e w e r k e n t o t d r a m a : Een spel z o n d e r g r e n
zen?' [ D r a m a t i z a t i o n of a n o v e l : a game w i t h o u t b o u n d
a r i e s ? ] , Scenarium 4 , p p . 3 6 - 4 9 , 1 5 0 - 1 5 1 .
 548

556 1980b 'Ideal en w e r k e l i j k h e i d in h e t o n d e r z o e k naar a d a p t e

r e n - een v e r k e n n i n g ' [ I d e a l and r e a l i t y in t h e i n v e s
t i g a t i o n of a d a p t i n g - a reconnaissance], Tijdschrift
voor Theaterwetenschap 4, pp.26-41.
557 Zimmer, .
1977 Proces d u spectacle ( P a r i s : PUF) .
558 Z o b e l , Klaus
1976 'Die V e r a n s c h a u l i c h u n g d r a m a t i s c h e r S t r u k t u r e n ' , Wir
kendes Wort 2 6 , p p . 1 4 9 - 1 6 7 .

1 See a l s o :
De M a r i n i s , Mario a P a t r i z i a Magli
1975 'Materiali bibliografici per una semiotica del teatro'.
Versus 1 1 , pp.53-128.
Van K e s t e r e n , A l o y s i u s
1975 ' E i n f h r e n d e Bibliographie z u r modernen Dramentheo
r i e ' , ( i n ) A . Van K e s t e r e n u n d H . Schmid ( H r s g . ) ,
Moderne D r a m e n t h e o r i e ( K r o n b e r g / T s . : S c r i p t o r ) , p p .
318-338.