Liberty Begins with the Comic

Liberty Begins with the Comic FELICIEN MARCEAU In Phedre a woman wails disparingly at losing Hippolyte. In The Miser a man rages over losing his bank roll. These two situations are identical; why then does the former move us and the latter make us laugh? Because there is something comical in the idea of a bank roll which is lacking in the idea of a son-in-law? Not at all convincing. Is it then because there is death in Phedre? But Phedre's drama lies less in the death of Hippolyte than in the impossible nature of her passion for him. Moreover is it not obvious that in these two situations a slight modification of the conditions would reverse the effects? Consider the plight of an old man whose life savings have been stolen; is this not moving? On the other hand, a mature woman who clings to a young man brings to mind the comic character of Mme Putiphar. The same ambivalence applies to almost all situations. A man who wishes to get married and whose mistress still clings to him is treated variously by Feydeau in his comic play Un til it la patte and by Daudet in his sentimental novel Sapho. The difference between Phedre and The Miser does not lie in the question of a mother-in-law on one side and an evil father on the other; the essential difference is that one play was written by Racine and the other by Moliere. In other words, it is a question of two different temperaments, two different world visions, two interpretations, two different dyes. This is one of the misunderstandings of the comic genre, and at the same time one of the reasons for the curious temerity of comic theatre in France. The basic error lies in the belief that there are subjects for comedy and subjects for tragedy. There are subjects, that is all - and writers who interpret them, some in a comic genre, others in a tragic, the same way that a single text may be translated into Italian or Finnish. The comic and the tragic are like the ceiling of the first storey and the floor of the second storey of a house: both of the 369 370 FELICIEN MARCEAU same matter. Only one thing is comic: truth. Only one thing is tragic: truth. Even the most shallow vaudeville act obeys this imperial law. You can show a man in his underwear pouring tea for a party of Salvation Army types, but this will only cause laughter if it is preceded by a series of plausible, that is to say, true circumstances. That is the first misunderstanding. there are others: people believe that comedy is futile; but comedy is like everything else in the world - it mayor may not be. Great comic plays demonstrate above all that comedy can treat subjects of the gravest nature. People also believe that laughing about someone or something means laughing at that person or thing. The immediate conclusion is that laughter is unkind, and at this point in the discussion someone will always cite the example of the man who slips on icy pavement and falls. But if it is the gentleman's fall which makes us laugh, in all logic we should laugh ten times as heartily at a man who falls from the tenth storey of a building, and one hundred times as much at a parachutist whose parachute fails to open. But neither the fall from the tenth storey nor the faulty parachute make us laugh. Furthermore, if the man who slipped on the pavement cries that his leg is broken, our laughter is quickly stifled. It is not, therefore, his misfortune which makes us laugh, but an equilibrium which has been broken, a status quo which is undone, or a sense of dignity which is frayed. In short, what makes us laugh is that while falling the man has betrayed, by the expression on his face, the naked truth of himself. This is exactly what makes us laugh when we see Harpagon. Of course, laughter can be unkind, and it is in the nature of the comic itself to be aggressive, but...