{"id":89582,"date":"2015-09-08T20:21:12","date_gmt":"2015-09-09T00:21:12","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/?p=89582"},"modified":"2015-09-09T11:34:08","modified_gmt":"2015-09-09T15:34:08","slug":"an-inglorious-slop-pail-of-a-play","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2015\/09\/08\/an-inglorious-slop-pail-of-a-play\/","title":{"rendered":"An Inglorious Slop-pail of a Play"},"content":{"rendered":"
\"\"<\/a>

Alfred Jarry, cruising.<\/p><\/div>\n

When the French playwright Alfred Jarry\u2014born on this day in 1873\u2014was fifteen, he enjoyed lampooning his physics teacher, a plump, inept man who so amused his students that he became the subject of Jarry\u2019s first attempt at drama, Les Polonais<\/em>, staged with marionettes when he was still in short pants. P\u00e8re Heb, as the physics teacher was called in it, had a prominent gut, a retractable ear, and three teeth (stone, iron, and wood). These features by themselves make him a distinctive figure in the history of French drama. But years later, Jarry revived Heb\u2014as all responsible playwrights do with their juvenilia\u2014making him somehow even more ridiculous, even more obese, and putting him at the center of Ubu Roi<\/em>, a play so contentious that its premiere, in December 1896, was also its closing night. It lives in the annals of drama because it offended almost everyone who saw it. In this, it prefigured modernism, surrealism, Dadaism, and the theater of the absurd. <\/p>\n

Ubu Roi<\/em> is a parody of Macbeth in which a revolutionary (that\u2019s our Ubu!) kills the King of Poland and then does a number of other obscene things; a lot of the action is apparently outright nonsense. Ubu\u2019s first line is \u201cMerdre!\u201d, the French word for shit<\/em> with an extra r <\/em>added. It\u2019s hard to translate misspelled expletives; \u201cHow is one to duplicate,\u201d asked the translator Simon Watson, \u201cthe majestic, tongue-rolling sonority of the word merdre<\/em>, given only our bleak, unheroic shit<\/em> to work on?\u201d<\/p>\n

A jarring nonsense-cuss was probably enough to get most of an 1896 audience frothing at the mouth; making matters worse, all the actors wore masks, the backdrop was plain, and the props were clearly made of cardboard. It was not long into opening night, then, that the crowd began to bray. The ratio of approving whoops to dismayed boos and hisses has been lost to the ages, but the nays must\u2019ve had it: a riot broke out after the curtain went down.<\/p>\n

Numerous witnesses later published accounts of the show. The most notable among them was a confused W. B. Yeats, who apparently liked the show well enough while it was happening but turned against it, beautifully if ponderously, in his autobiography:<\/p>\n

\n

The audience shake their fists at one another, and the Rhymer [his partner] whispers to me, \u201cThere are often duels after these performances,\u201d and he explains to me what is happening on the stage. The players are supposed to be dolls, toys, marionettes, and now they are all hopping like wooden frogs, and I can see for myself that the chief personage, who is some kind of King, carries for Sceptre a brush of the kind that we use to clean a closet [i.e. a toilet]. Feeling bound to support the most spirited party, we have shouted for the play, but that night at the Hotel Corneille I am very sad, for comedy, objectivity, has displayed its growing power once more. I say, \u201cAfter Stephane Mallarm\u00e9, after Paul Verlaine, after Gustave Moreau, after Puvis de Chavannes, after oour own verse, after all our subtle colour and nervous rhythm, after the faint mixed tints of Conder, what more is possible? After us the Savage God.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n

The poet Catulle Mend\u00e8s is deeply shaken in his account, too, though not entirely unpleasurably:<\/p>\n

\n

A new type has been put before us, created by the extravagant and brutal imagination of a man who is a sort of child. P\u00e8re Ubu exists \u2026 You will not be able to get rid of him; he will haunt you and perpetually force you to remember not only that he passed this way, but that he has arrived and is here \u2026<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n

Only Mallarm\u00e9, who\u2019d seen the script, had anything kind to say about it. \u201cWith the skill of a sure and sober dramatic sculptor,\u201d he wrote to Jarry, \u201cand with a rare and durable clay upon your fingers, you have set a prodigious figure on his feet, together with his troop.\u201d But even this is not unreserved praise, and he seems to have gotten some variety of the willies: \u201cHe enters the repertoire of high taste and haunts me.\u201d<\/p>\n

The finest review of all belongs to Arthur Symons, who\u2019s so eloquent in his stuffed-shirtness that he\u2019s worth quoting at length:<\/p>\n

\n

The play is the first symbolist farce: it has the crudity of the schoolboy or a savage: what is, after all, most remarkable about it is the insolence with which a young writer mocks at civilization itself, sweeping all art, along with all humanity, into the same inglorious slop-pail \u2026 it has been given twice over, before a crowded house, howling but dominated, a house buffeted into sheer bewilderment by the wooden lath of a gross undiscriminating, infantile Philosopher-Pantaloon \u2026 Jarry (a small, very young man, with a hard, clever face) seated himself at the table and read his own \u201cconf\u00e9rence\u201d on his own play \u2026 Ubu Roi <\/em>is the gesticulation of a young savage of the woods \u2026 In our search for sensation, we have exhausted sensation \u2026 a literary Sansculotte has shrieked for hours that unspeakable word of the gutter which was the refrain.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n

The play was a profound attack on the era\u2019s complacency; it was as startling as Stravinsky\u2019s Rite of Spring<\/em> would be a quarter century later. And Jarry was duly proud of his work: \u201cIt is not surprising that the public should have been aghast at the sight of its ignoble other self,\u201d he wrote later, \u201cwhich it had never before been shown completely \u2026 the comedy at the most must be the macabre comedy of an English clown, or of a Dance of Death.\u201d<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>

From the first-edition cover of Ubu Roi<\/i>.<\/p><\/div>\n

For more on Jarry, consult Alastair Brotchie\u2019s Alfred Jarry: A Pataphysical Life<\/em>, or Ian Pindar\u2019s review of same<\/a>.<\/p>\n

Dan Piepenbring is the web editor of <\/em>The Paris Review.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

When the French playwright Alfred Jarry\u2014born on this day in 1873\u2014was fifteen, he enjoyed lampooning his physics teacher, a plump, inept man who so amused his students that he became the subject of Jarry\u2019s first attempt at drama, Les Polonais, staged with marionettes when he was still in short pants. P\u00e8re Heb, as the physics […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":38,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[419],"tags":[17485,10600,9158,412,425,19372,12927,14432,13911,44,19371,8928],"class_list":["post-89582","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-arts-culture","tag-absurdity","tag-alfred-jarry","tag-birthdays","tag-comedy","tag-drama","tag-french-playwrights","tag-obscenity","tag-plays","tag-playwrights","tag-theater","tag-ubu-roi","tag-w-b-yeats"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\nRemembering Alfred Jarry\u2019s Controversial \u201cUbu Roi\u201d<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"It was called \u201can Inglorious Slop-pail\u201d of a play, and for good reason.\" \/>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2015\/09\/08\/an-inglorious-slop-pail-of-a-play\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"An Inglorious Slop-pail of a Play by Dan Piepenbring\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"September 8, 2015 \u2013 When the French playwright Alfred Jarry\u2014born on this day in 1873\u2014was fifteen, he enjoyed lampooning his physics teacher, a plump, inept man who so amused\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:url\" content=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2015\/09\/08\/an-inglorious-slop-pail-of-a-play\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:site_name\" content=\"The Paris Review\" \/>\n<meta property=\"article:publisher\" content=\"https:\/\/www.facebook.com\/parisreview\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"article:published_time\" content=\"2015-09-09T00:21:12+00:00\" \/>\n<meta property=\"article:modified_time\" content=\"2015-09-09T15:34:08+00:00\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:image\" content=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/09\/jarry_velo.jpg\" \/>\n\t<meta property=\"og:image:width\" content=\"545\" \/>\n\t<meta property=\"og:image:height\" content=\"379\" \/>\n\t<meta property=\"og:image:type\" content=\"image\/jpeg\" \/>\n<meta name=\"author\" content=\"Dan Piepenbring\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:card\" content=\"summary_large_image\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:creator\" content=\"@parisreview\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:site\" content=\"@parisreview\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:label1\" content=\"Written by\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:data1\" content=\"Dan Piepenbring\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:label2\" content=\"Est. reading time\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:data2\" content=\"5 minutes\" \/>\n<script type=\"application\/ld+json\" class=\"yoast-schema-graph\">{\"@context\":\"https:\/\/schema.org\",\"@graph\":[{\"@type\":\"Article\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2015\/09\/08\/an-inglorious-slop-pail-of-a-play\/#article\",\"isPartOf\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2015\/09\/08\/an-inglorious-slop-pail-of-a-play\/\"},\"author\":{\"name\":\"Dan Piepenbring\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/#\/schema\/person\/6b16ca558fc538230f135c3220dfd3c8\"},\"headline\":\"An Inglorious Slop-pail of a Play\",\"datePublished\":\"2015-09-09T00:21:12+00:00\",\"dateModified\":\"2015-09-09T15:34:08+00:00\",\"mainEntityOfPage\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2015\/09\/08\/an-inglorious-slop-pail-of-a-play\/\"},\"wordCount\":1009,\"publisher\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/#organization\"},\"image\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2015\/09\/08\/an-inglorious-slop-pail-of-a-play\/#primaryimage\"},\"thumbnailUrl\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/09\/jarry_velo.jpg\",\"keywords\":[\"absurdity\",\"Alfred Jarry\",\"birthdays\",\"comedy\",\"drama\",\"French playwrights\",\"obscenity\",\"plays\",\"playwrights\",\"theater\",\"Ubu Roi\",\"W.B. 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