Showing posts with label French Revolution. Show all posts
Showing posts with label French Revolution. Show all posts

Monday, 11 January 2016

French Revolutions and Censorship

Quick quiz: in the eighteenth and early nineteenth century, during the various upheavals that revolve around the French Revolution, was censorship by the state more common before or after the declaration in 1791 against censorship?

The clue's probably in the question. After 1791, banning of plays was more common. Under the absolute monarchy, there was a complicated process of censorship, that could involve a nervous police referring to the state or the church. By the time of Napoleon, the Emperor himself was programming plays so that theatre reflected well on his regime. 

My ill-defined understanding of The French Revolution features the defeat of France's absolute monarchy by a popular uprising - led and determined by the influence of the enlightenment intellects - which rapidly degenerated into a murderous free-for-all and concluded in the arrival of Napoleon, who became emperor and turned the revolution into an expansive imperialism. Theatre was not included in my secondary school-level study, although the writing of Voltaire and Diderot implied that performance was a vital public forum for the promotion of new ideas.

In this simplistic version, the ancient regime was totalitarian. Yet its control of theatre was less immediate than the activities of the revolutionary governments. Discuss.

The best part of the ancient regime, as far as theatre goes, was the pit. This was the cheap seats, although it had no seats, just a standing audience that had a habit of shouting at the performers. Apparently, they'd whistle if the acting was bad. They also made applications: applauding, or booing, or launching a zinger at lines that could reflect on current political issues.

This was not about recognising an allusion in the script: it was the audience interpreting. It could even embarrass a writer: when Colle was given props for an application of his Partie de chasse de Henri IV, he ran off at the finale, worried that the state might think he had deliberately alluded to the recent sacking of a popular director-general of finances. 


The pit kept its actions up during the early stages of the revolution. Even the royalists would make applications, giving it laldy during Pompignan's Didon. Voltaire's Brutus was appreciated by republicans and royalists (set in Rome, it had regicides and aristocrats in the dramatis personae). The pit was ideal for anonymous shouting about politics, either subverting or supporting the current state.

By the time Napoleon was acting the big man, the pit had to simmer down. In 1810, Brittanicus was performed. The plot included Nero's treatment of his first wife - just as Napoleon was marrying his second. The relevant scenes provoked only an uncomfortable silence. 

Source: Hemmings, Theatre and State in France, 1760 - 1905

Tuesday, 8 December 2015

Why Diderot Matters...

Diederot was one of the Big Shots in the century before France had that bunch of revolutions starting in 1789. You know, the ones that inspired America to kick off the yoke of the UK, have been a template for leftists and ended up with an imperialist expansion across Europe. Using Owen Jones' description of right wing intellectuals in the 1970s (in a period when banging on about neo-liberalism was a minority interest, unlike today), Diderot was an 'outlyer', a thinker who presaged later developments.

Far from being concerned with hermetic analysis of theatre, Diderot's two periods of dramaturgical study were part of a dynamic debate. His Entretiens could be a response to Rosseau's worries about the morality of theatre (he repeated Plato's warnings, more or less, but with less ironic ambiguity), while his Advice to Actors is a comprehensive attempt to set up foundations for the training for performers (a professionalisation of the job, which could be seen as a prototype of 'professional development, as per contemporary buzzwords). 

Diderot's vision of theatre is not disengaged. His manifesto in Entretiens offers an almost naturalistic drama, with the aristocrats booted from their cosy seats on-stage, spectacular scenography replaced by tableaux vivants, dance to be classified and physical theatre (mime) to be integrated into performance. Above all, he made an appeal for a relevant theatre, one that demonstrated bourgeois values.

There are at least three good reasons to bother with Diderot. He apparently influenced Brecht - probably in his insistence on a theatre that was not interested in characters but situations. He provides a logic behind the status of the artist in society (that still exists today) and relates creativity to the burgeoning influence of bourgeois (and capitalist) culture. He also sits at an interesting point for art historians - between classicism and its enthusiasm for tradition and stability, and romanticism and the whole 'genius, entrepreneur, artist' blather. 

So, having been persuaded... some heavy-duty yap about Diderot will be coming soon. Sorry.