C
23. Derschleiender- Pierrette
SEHUSTERPAANE
AOO
Oadarren erurzene ei austennterrsdao
BERLIN SO 16, RUNGESTRASSE 22-24
Ausschnitt aus der Nummer vom:
Extract Tron.
SATURDAY REVIEW.
New Vork, U.S.A.
Ps
The Play of the Weck
C. By Ourvea M. SAvLER
11
THE BRIDAL VEIL, a Pantomime-Ballet in
Three Acts. By AkrnuR ScHNrrzLER, with
Music by ERNsr voN DOHINANVI. Pröduced by
ELIZABETH ANDERsON - Ivawrsorr for the
American Laboratory Theatre, 222 East Fifty¬
Fourth Street, New York, January 26, 1028.
Reviewed from Performance and Manuscript
AS'1’ fall when I began this series of criticisms
of contemporary plays in the light of their
literary values as qualified by purely theatri¬
cal expedients and transmuted thereby into an inde¬
pendent art which is not merely literature, but
inevitably related to it, I filed a claim for ballet as
innate if remote participant in this esthetic process.
The word, it seemed to me, has a vital, essential, and
more or less significant function to perform in bal¬
let, the word as concrete conceptual idiom as con¬
trasted with form, color, sound, or movement in the
abstract. The word is necessary, in the first place,
purely as a mechanical medium of exchange to con¬
vey the thought and purpose of the author to the
performer. Only an author who could turn ballet
regisseur and illustrate in person the workings of
his creative imagination could dispense with it. The
word, in the sccond place, is eminently desirable,
if not strictly necessary, to insure comprehension
of the author’s iden on the part of the audience.
In this sense, the word becomes interpretation, °pro¬
gram,“ in contrast to the word as mechanism, and
hence partakes more obviously of, and lends itself
more freely to, literature.
To illustrate and point these general reflections
concerning the word-bridge between ballet, pan¬
tomime, or other forms of wordless drama and the
literary art, the American Laboratory Theatre has
conveniently produced in its new home in East
Fifty-Fourth Street, as the third item in its third
scason, Arthur Schnitzler’s pantomime-ballet,“ The
Bridal Veil' (“The Veil of Pierrette'’) with the
original score by Ernst von Dohnanyi, for many
years a favorite in European repertories and the first
notable production of the now-celebrated Kamerny
Theatre in Moscow.
* K
I hope that no one who values a brave and intel¬
ligent experimental spirit or who prizes an unusual
and sensuously exhilarating evening in the theatre
regardless of experiment, will be swerved from.
attendance by what I have to say in regard to the
literary shortcomings and neglected opportunitics of
#The Bridal Veil.' That aseet of ballet, after
box 28/1
or movement. The prompt book or scenario, as it
were, of the American version, which, by the way,
has been freely adapted by Mme. Anderson, came
into existence after the fact and then only in the
baldest and most technical of stage directions. But
the case differs. Mme. Anderson embodied her con¬
ceptions in person without the need of a word link,
whereas Schnitzler had to work through a second
party as regisseur.
It is on the second count of the word in ballet—
vion as interpretation, as “program’—that
I ferl the Laboratory Theatre has been remiss. How
much more effective, how much more emotionally
satisfying, the production would be with such an
inspired and inspiring poetic résumé of the action,
we can only surmise. The old classic ballet, of
course, could afford to ignore this literary legend.
Absolute dancing—the pas seul, the pas de deux,
the entire corps—has no story. It is esthetically
pleasing only in the most abstract sense. It can
mean to the spectator anything which he brings to
it at the moment. Even a title is gratuitous. But
when the pantomime-ballet, the dance-drama, the
ballet with a story, emerged, it brought with it the
opportunity if not the necessity for the word, for
a literary résumé. In this sense, the pantomime¬
ballet corresponds to program music. The practi¬
tioners of the latter frequently find inspiration in
an already created work of literature—a poem or
a passage of descriptive or narrative prose, If the
process is reversed, they are usually careful to pro¬
vide the interpretive “program'’ in a form worthy
of their own musical contribution. Such a “pro¬
gram'’ is lacking in The Bridal Veil.?' A single
inept and banal paragraph attempts lamely to do
duty for it. It is not too late to fill this gap in
an otherwise exquisite contribution to the season’s
theatrical record. But it must be filled by a poet
or a master ef lyric prose worthy of the collaborat¬
ing author, composer, regisseur, and designer.
have said that the pantomime-ballet brought
with it the opportunity or the necessity for the
word. I have purposely phrased the case thus alter¬
natively. For I recognize the legitimacy of the
contention of the newer school of dance-dramatists
that the pantomime-ballet can and should be so self¬
evident in its meaning as to need no interpretation
—a kind of motion picture without sub-titles. I
venture to doubt, however, whether any but con¬
noisseurs of the art can ever successfully waive this
literary key. And even were it possible to do so,
an appropriate “program'’ should be a pleasant and
unobtrusive grace note or l’envol.
23. Derschleiender- Pierrette
SEHUSTERPAANE
AOO
Oadarren erurzene ei austennterrsdao
BERLIN SO 16, RUNGESTRASSE 22-24
Ausschnitt aus der Nummer vom:
Extract Tron.
SATURDAY REVIEW.
New Vork, U.S.A.
Ps
The Play of the Weck
C. By Ourvea M. SAvLER
11
THE BRIDAL VEIL, a Pantomime-Ballet in
Three Acts. By AkrnuR ScHNrrzLER, with
Music by ERNsr voN DOHINANVI. Pröduced by
ELIZABETH ANDERsON - Ivawrsorr for the
American Laboratory Theatre, 222 East Fifty¬
Fourth Street, New York, January 26, 1028.
Reviewed from Performance and Manuscript
AS'1’ fall when I began this series of criticisms
of contemporary plays in the light of their
literary values as qualified by purely theatri¬
cal expedients and transmuted thereby into an inde¬
pendent art which is not merely literature, but
inevitably related to it, I filed a claim for ballet as
innate if remote participant in this esthetic process.
The word, it seemed to me, has a vital, essential, and
more or less significant function to perform in bal¬
let, the word as concrete conceptual idiom as con¬
trasted with form, color, sound, or movement in the
abstract. The word is necessary, in the first place,
purely as a mechanical medium of exchange to con¬
vey the thought and purpose of the author to the
performer. Only an author who could turn ballet
regisseur and illustrate in person the workings of
his creative imagination could dispense with it. The
word, in the sccond place, is eminently desirable,
if not strictly necessary, to insure comprehension
of the author’s iden on the part of the audience.
In this sense, the word becomes interpretation, °pro¬
gram,“ in contrast to the word as mechanism, and
hence partakes more obviously of, and lends itself
more freely to, literature.
To illustrate and point these general reflections
concerning the word-bridge between ballet, pan¬
tomime, or other forms of wordless drama and the
literary art, the American Laboratory Theatre has
conveniently produced in its new home in East
Fifty-Fourth Street, as the third item in its third
scason, Arthur Schnitzler’s pantomime-ballet,“ The
Bridal Veil' (“The Veil of Pierrette'’) with the
original score by Ernst von Dohnanyi, for many
years a favorite in European repertories and the first
notable production of the now-celebrated Kamerny
Theatre in Moscow.
* K
I hope that no one who values a brave and intel¬
ligent experimental spirit or who prizes an unusual
and sensuously exhilarating evening in the theatre
regardless of experiment, will be swerved from.
attendance by what I have to say in regard to the
literary shortcomings and neglected opportunitics of
#The Bridal Veil.' That aseet of ballet, after
box 28/1
or movement. The prompt book or scenario, as it
were, of the American version, which, by the way,
has been freely adapted by Mme. Anderson, came
into existence after the fact and then only in the
baldest and most technical of stage directions. But
the case differs. Mme. Anderson embodied her con¬
ceptions in person without the need of a word link,
whereas Schnitzler had to work through a second
party as regisseur.
It is on the second count of the word in ballet—
vion as interpretation, as “program’—that
I ferl the Laboratory Theatre has been remiss. How
much more effective, how much more emotionally
satisfying, the production would be with such an
inspired and inspiring poetic résumé of the action,
we can only surmise. The old classic ballet, of
course, could afford to ignore this literary legend.
Absolute dancing—the pas seul, the pas de deux,
the entire corps—has no story. It is esthetically
pleasing only in the most abstract sense. It can
mean to the spectator anything which he brings to
it at the moment. Even a title is gratuitous. But
when the pantomime-ballet, the dance-drama, the
ballet with a story, emerged, it brought with it the
opportunity if not the necessity for the word, for
a literary résumé. In this sense, the pantomime¬
ballet corresponds to program music. The practi¬
tioners of the latter frequently find inspiration in
an already created work of literature—a poem or
a passage of descriptive or narrative prose, If the
process is reversed, they are usually careful to pro¬
vide the interpretive “program'’ in a form worthy
of their own musical contribution. Such a “pro¬
gram'’ is lacking in The Bridal Veil.?' A single
inept and banal paragraph attempts lamely to do
duty for it. It is not too late to fill this gap in
an otherwise exquisite contribution to the season’s
theatrical record. But it must be filled by a poet
or a master ef lyric prose worthy of the collaborat¬
ing author, composer, regisseur, and designer.
have said that the pantomime-ballet brought
with it the opportunity or the necessity for the
word. I have purposely phrased the case thus alter¬
natively. For I recognize the legitimacy of the
contention of the newer school of dance-dramatists
that the pantomime-ballet can and should be so self¬
evident in its meaning as to need no interpretation
—a kind of motion picture without sub-titles. I
venture to doubt, however, whether any but con¬
noisseurs of the art can ever successfully waive this
literary key. And even were it possible to do so,
an appropriate “program'’ should be a pleasant and
unobtrusive grace note or l’envol.