Plays, People—And War!
COME theatrical people were sitting in our ear and talking while waiting for September (and the New York theatrical season) : to begin. They sat on the banks of our ear lobe and trailed their ( voices against our ear drums, as \ a canoodling lady might trail her 1 fingers in a lake, only not so 1 prettily and, of course, not so ' gently. < There does not seem to be anything more spendthrift on earth at > the moment than to sit, waiting for 1 September, 1941, to begin. Money \ cannot buy that feeling. The whole ' world waits, with breath suspended, j for summer and its war-making ( weather to end, but onlv our friends , were waiting for September to begin • —which is different, much different. ' a lifetime and a whole attitude of mind different. We poinied that out i and they said, logically enough, if money couldn't buv it, they were entitled to it. For whatever monev could buy. they couldn't. " ; Those "Beautiful People" Then a producer said that what he would like to do was to ask William Saroyan how beautiful were the beautiful people who refused to see "The Beautiful people." the plav written, directed and produced by William Saroyan. Mr. Saroyan was last heard of in San Francisco and the producer thought, perhaps, the "Chronicle" there might be induced to inquire. Their name is Legion, said the producer, referring again n> the beautiful people who refuse to buy tickets for "The Beautiful People," but what does Sarovan call them?
By Ira Wolfert a r
Although producers do not like v Mr. Saroyan since he decided to show them up as unnecessary, the question is apropos. Here is a play- ' wright who has devoted his life and l his works to telling the people how s beautiful they are. And what do ;■ the neople do? Nothing. Or praeti- _. cally nothing. His books do not i sell. His stories sell to magazines ' with small circulations amonq i writers and students—closet feuil- ; letons. I think the phrase is. and t only one of his plays has attracted i anything that might be called an audience. N'o, while Saroyan writes his heart out. the people go silently on their tumultuous way. rewarding writers for telling them nothing j about themselves. ' He Was Prepared i The works of Saroyan seem to < have prepared their author for such a reception. In all cases, his people are plain or primitive until something comes to tickle their recesses and make them unfold. His heroes ! —at any rate, his most successful characters—have a crust on them. . the crust of their professions or occupations or attitudes, and it is only when an incident cracks the crust that a savoury steam issues forth. Then a drunk can be seen as he was in the past, feet rapping the pavement like drum sticks when he walked. A cop can be noted as the person who became a cop. A fussy, dry-lipped bookkeeper is seen
abruptly lo treasure romance. A man who looks as though he has spent his life sucking lemons stares with yearning eyes. And so forth. The people who come to see the people in the Saroyan plays have crusts on them. too. and unquestionably, if the crusts were cracked, something like an apple pie would be disclosed, or. at least, apple sauce. All the women in the audience were babies at one lime—cuddly little things, sweet as grass, full of generosity, plump with love, harmless and finding it easy to be friendly and difficult to hate anything. The men, 100. Yes. yes. even men were babies at one lime. And even now that the men and women in The audience are grown up. whatever was true of Them as babies i> still true, although somewhat more difficult to prove. Go deep enough into any of them below i 'v? overlay of the l ; fe he has lived and you will find tie baby smiling out at you. .-weet anci plump with love. The thing is to manufacture the incident mat will go deep enough to crack the crust. Mr. Saroyan's plays, books and stories aim to be such incidents. But are they? Well, if they were, the people coming out of "The Beautiful People' , would all look as beautiful as babies. And they do not. They're a pretty sallow looking lot if you ask me. with an expression on their faces like that of people who have eaten a meal that has filled them ar.d yet left them hungry. Most of those 1 know who have seen the Saroyan plays say "No." while others say "Xo" more emphatically, pronouncing it "Nuts "
Then a playwright present said h had written an ami-war play, best thing he had ever done, an'! another producer—not t*v« >'■.-.? wh'"cave Saroyan his lump-— -niikerec Thai. the* producer, said. w:;f Ilk' pitching hay to windward, -nri , ihc playwright "remarked that he knev. i: well, but had not been ab-o t ■ help himself. The play had ,v.i.come out thai way arid he \va<n even showing it around. li came out that way. ihc pl.v. wright said, because \vnai <•'.-•:• there in the world for a r..;m v, •. sensibilities to think aboi: , . h ' ih< war? Anti-war or pro war. itV all "": < same "marked lousy."' the j>:. «sr_i > maintained. He men". ii>v<ii ■ ■■ : ' ■ dozen scripts about the liA.V. ;in Bat lie of France and :■-•■■ Ha". , •: ■"»■ Britain that were knork'.v *''.-•'\:r A with no one willing to take a < han>-' on tnem. People just di>n I want t< know from nothing abn-.n •"•-.e w:. , he declared. They get enough c>f i' in the papers r.r.d on the radhv :r.u: . they war.t something iha: from the theatre The argument alter thai w;-. ■ 1 ■ isV and not at all onesided. 1;i m : !' ■ , crs who go to the ihc:'re ti rrla* instead of getting keyen ;inu ■.•■.lO'i no came in for a ui*ubV»ing. Uu: wnti ,, ', body said POTnethin.T more ."-'.n , j and more hcirtening. He said that war play f , .:reorder liuring the la?t war and (ail durini: ! the present one becuust- i!,'- .iiii.d. • towards the war has ih:i:ii;ol. l'\erv- . body in the w.->rl<J iNa?i< h< li.i-----i excepted. since thc-y are ini.nc ani. f no doubt will drown ;n a v.;at r> F the past* nowaday.- goes i> ivriv un I willingly, with no ir.<>rc f.a:--- Hi 'i-rr, 1 than to hog killers. There i> nothing ■ to excite or arouse their rhino? j , i foing to war. Instea': war is re-.>g f nised U>r what it is—a mt'iiLal d"-p:c-----t sant. a mind-throttler. ;i smothcrei i of spirit, a dirty job that may mv : > doing, but doesn't deserve cheering That, it was maintained, show.- • progress and is the hnpc of tht ' future of the world.
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Auckland Star, Volume LXXII, Issue 181, 2 August 1941, Page 13
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1,121Plays, People—And War! Auckland Star, Volume LXXII, Issue 181, 2 August 1941, Page 13
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