The Russian Theatre
by . New York: Brentano’s, 1922. Illustrated. 8vo. xviii+346 pp. $3.00.
HERE is the work of an enthusiast. Enthusiasm sometimes stands in the way of sound judgment; but Mr. Sayler’s concluding chapters, now newly added to a previously published book, show him undoubtedly a critic — not just an admirer — and, besides, a true friend of true art. That ‘applied’ drama does not appeal to him we can see from his description of the present Russian government’s vainglorious attempts ‘to make the playhouse an additional engine of Communist propaganda.’ By the time we close the book we are well assured that the author’s enthusiasm is that of a genuine seeker for artistic truth.
A more sympathetic understanding of the art of a strange country seems hardly possible. To be sure, in slippery places Mr. Sayler prefers to be on the safe side of ‘ good manners always, ’ and pays an undeserved compliment here and there. Also, he is not afraid of repetition to make things clear. But this does not at all reflect upon the value of his remarkably penetrating statements elsewhere. Those who would ‘like to read something Russian if it was n’t all so gruesome’ may read not without profit this non-Russian critic’s comment upon Gorki’s The Lower Depths — especially its closing lines: ‘Gorki has chosen . . . those for whom there is no hope in the mortal flesh. And yet even here, there is the gleam of the good in man.’ Surely Mr. Sayler has penetrated into the very heart of the question, why depict so much misery?
Another very important trait receives all the attention it deserves: this is the Russian actor’s lack of chauvinism. There is no place for the Western contempt of things foreign; truth is eagerly sought for everywhere. While preparing a play that deals, say, with Dutch life, the Russian actor will feel just as deeply immersed in Dutch modes of life and Dutch problems as if the whole thing were Russian and not foreign. The results of such an ‘international’ attitude, if we are to believe Mr. Sayler, are extremely gratifying. Among other things he claims to have seen at the Moscow Art Theatre ‘the heartiest, the most truly Elizabethan performance of Twelfth Night,’ that he has ever seen.
‘Yevreinov and Monodrama’ is a chapter intensely interesting to those who look far ahead into the perspectives of dramatic art. Here everything is open to discussion, yet the reader’s attention is seized by such a striking statement of Yevreinov’s as the following: ‘The fact that the child . . . plays always, plays of its own volition, and that no one has to teach the child to play, to create his own theatre, proves that nature put in men some will to the theatre.’ Every man and woman, Yevreinov declares, craves acting and does act. Hence the justification and the necessity of monodrama.
Mr. Sayler draws upon a wealth of impressions and information, and has disposed of them carefully and with a sense of responsibility, with a resultant meeting of ‘both ends.’ The illustrations are excellent.
ELENA VARNEK.
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