Authors: Luigi Pirandello
Dates in parenthesis refer to first performance for drama and to publication for all other texts.
1867 | Born 28 June in villa known as Kaos near Girgenti (now Agrigento), Sicily, during cholera epidemic; P will later call himself ‘a child of chaos’. His father Stefano Pirandello is a wealthy sulphur-mine contractor who served under Garibaldi in the unification campaigns of 1860–2: there is the same patriotic tradition in the family of his mother, Caterina Ricci-Gramitto. |
1870–9 | Elementary education at home in Agrigento. From family servant hears Sicilian folklore (the Women of the Night, the Angel Hundred-and-One) that will later appear in |
1880–8 | Studies in Palermo where his family has moved (1880). Writes conventional late Romantic poetry. Spends three months helping father in management of sulphur mines before enrolling at University of Palermo where he gets to know future leaders of the Ibsen, |
1889 | Transfers to University of Rome where he enrols in the Faculty of Letters. After writing a number of plays (now lost) that fail to reach the stage, publishes first volume of poems in late Romantic vein, Giovanni Verga, |
1890–1 | Studies at Bonn where he obtains a doctorate in Romance Philology with a thesis on the Agrigento dialect (1891). Love affair with German girl Jenny Schulz-Lander to whom he dedicates his second volume of poetry, |
1892 | Returns to Rome where he lives on allowance from father and devotes himself to literature. Meets with prominent writers, including fellow Sicilian novelist Luigi Capuana. Italo Svevo, |
1893–4 | Brutal suppression of Sicilian peasant movement ( Shaw, |
1894 | First volume of short stories, |
1895–9 | Birth of children: Stefano (1895), Rosalia (‘Lietta’, 1897), Fausto (1899). Begins teaching at college for girls, Istituto Superiore di Magistero (1898). Italian colonial expansion halted by defeat at Adwa (1896) in First Italo-Ethiopian War. Wilde, |
1900–3 | Continues to write short stories, first published in magazines and then collected in volumes. Publishes two early novels Freud, |
1904–7 | Innovative and successful third novel Chekhov, |
1908–9 | Publishes Filippo Tommaso Marinetti, |
1910–14 | Sicilian playwright-producer Nino Martoglio persuades him to adapt short stories for the theatre ( D’Annunzio, |
1915–16 | Increased production of Sicilian dialect plays ( Giorgio De Chirico founds movement of ‘Metaphysical Painting’ (1915); Giuseppe Ungaretti, |
1917–20 | With Rosso di San Secondo, |
1921–2 | Catastrophic Rome premiere of T. S. Eliot, |
1923–4 | New plays, Italo Svevo, |
1925–7 | New edition of Gide, |
1928–9 | New work includes the first two plays of the myth trilogy, Claudel, |
1930–3 | Last play in metatheatre trilogy, Brecht, |
1934–5 | Awarded Nobel Prize for Literature (1934). |
1936 | Marta Abba leaves for the United States. P dies 10 December in Rome and is cremated. His will forbids funeral ceremonies of any kind. Italian military help to Nationalists in Spanish Civil War. |
1937 | First performance of unfinished |
The Characters of the Play in the Making
The Father
The Mother
The Stepdaughter
The Son
The Young Boy (non-speaking)
The Little Girl (non-speaking)
Madame Pace
The Theatre Company
The Director
The Leading Lady
The Leading Man
The Second Actress
A Young Actor
A Young Actress
Other Actors and Actresses
The Stage Manager
The Prompter
The Property Man
The Technician
The Director’s Secretary
The Usher
Stagehands and Staff
The action takes place in daytime on the stage of a theatre. The play has no act or scene divisions, but the performance is interrupted twice: first when, with the curtain still up, the
DIRECTOR
and the
FATHER
withdraw to compose the scenario and the
ACTORS
clear the stage; second, when the
TECHNICIAN
lowers the curtain by mistake
.
On entering the theatre, the audience finds the curtain raised and the stage as it is during the day, with neither wings nor scenery, empty and almost in darkness, so that right from the start the impression is that of an improvised performance
.
Stairways, left and right, connect the stage with the auditorium. On the stage the cover has been removed from the
PROMPTER
’
s box and lies next to the hatch. On the other side, downstage, for the
DIRECTOR
,
a small table and an armchair with its back turned to the audience. Also downstage two more tables, one larger and one smaller, with several chairs, ready for use if needed in rehearsal, other chairs scattered right and left for the
ACTORS
;
upstage, to one side, a half-hidden piano
.
When the houselights go down, the
TECHNICIAN
,
in dark blue overalls and with tool bag at his belt, enters through the stage door: from a corner at the back, he takes a few planks, comes forward, and kneels down to nail them together. The noise of hammering brings the
STAGE MANAGER
running from the dressing rooms
.
STAGE MANAGER
. Hey! What are you doing?
TECHNICIAN
. What am I doing? I’m knocking in these nails.
STAGE MANAGER
. What? Now? [
Looks at his watch
] It’s already half past ten. Any moment now the Director will be here for the rehearsal.
TECHNICIAN
. But I need some time to do my job as well.
STAGE MANAGER
. You’ll have it; but not now.
TECHNICIAN
. So when?
STAGE MANAGER
. When it’s not rehearsal time. Come on. Take all that stuff away, and let me get the stage ready for the second act of
The Rules of the Game
.
*
Mumbling and grumbling, the
TECHNICIAN
picks up the planks and goes off. In the meantime the
ACTORS OF THE COMPANY
,
men and women, start coming in through the stage door, first singly, then in pairs, in no special order, until there are nine or ten, about as many as are needed for the rehearsal of Pirandello’s play
The Rules of the Game,
which is scheduled for that day. They enter, greet the
STAGE MANAGER
,
and say their good mornings to each other. Some of them set off towards the
dressing rooms; others, including the
PROMPTER
with his script rolled up under his arm, remain on the stage, waiting for the
DIRECTOR
to come and begin the rehearsal. They sit or stand around in groups, and chat; one starts smoking, another complains about his part, a third reads aloud to his group from some theatre magazine. Both
ACTRESSES
and
ACTORS
should wear bright cheerful clothes, and the way this first scene is improvised should be very lively as well as natural. At a given moment one of the cast sits at the piano and plays a dance tune; the younger
ACTORS
and
ACTRESSES
start dancing
.
STAGE MANAGER
[
clapping his hands to call them to order
]. Come on now, pack it in! Here’s the Director.
The music and the dancing stop abruptly. The
ACTORS
turn to look out into the auditorium as the
DIRECTOR
enters through a door at the back. With bowler hat on head, walking stick under arm, and fat cigar in mouth, he walks up the aisle between the seats, is greeted by the cast, and mounts one of the stairways up to the stage. The
SECRETARY
hands him the mail: a few newspapers and a script in a wrapper
.
DIRECTOR
. Any letters?
SECRETARY
. None. That’s all the mail there is.
DIRECTOR
[
handing back the script
]. Put it in my office. [
Then, looking around and turning to the
STAGE MANAGER
] Can’t see a thing here. Give us a bit more light, please.
*
STAGE MANAGER
. Right away.
He goes to pass on the order and soon the whole right side of the stage, where the
ACTORS
are, is flooded with white light. By now the
PROMPTER
has taken his place in the box, switched on his lamp, and opened out his script
.
DIRECTOR
[
clapping his hands
]. Right then, come on, let’s get started. [
To the
STAGE MANAGER
] Is anyone missing?
STAGE MANAGER
. The leading lady.
DIRECTOR
. As usual. [
Looks at his watch
] We’re already ten minutes late. Do me a favour: make a note of it. That’ll teach her to be on time for rehearsals.
Before he has even finished this reprimand, the voice of the
LEADING LADY
is heard from the back of the theatre
.
LEADING LADY
. No, no. Please don’t! Here I am, here I am!
Dressed in white from head to foot, with a dashing broad hat on her head and a charming lapdog in her arms, she runs down the central aisle and hurries up the steps onto the stage
.
DIRECTOR
. You never miss an opportunity to keep us waiting.
LEADING LADY
. So sorry. I tried so hard to find a taxi and get here on time. But I can see you haven’t started yet. And I’m not on stage straightaway. [
Calls the
STAGE MANAGER
by name and hands him the dog
] Please lock him in my dressing room.
DIRECTOR
[
grumbling
]. And now the dog as well. As if there weren’t enough dogs here already! [
Clapping his hands again and turning to the
PROMPTER
] Right then, let’s go: Act Two of
The Rules of the Game
. [
Sits in the armchair
] Your attention, ladies and gentleman! Who’s on stage?
The
ACTORS
and
ACTRESSES
clear the front of the stage and go to sit at the side—all except for the three who are supposed to be on stage and the
LEADING LADY
who, paying no attention to the
DIRECTOR
,
has gone to sit at one of the two small tables
.
DIRECTOR
[
to the
LEADING LADY
]. So you’re on stage, are you?
LEADING LADY
. Me? No, sir.
DIRECTOR
[
annoyed
]. Then get out of the way, for God’s sake!
The
LEADING LADY
gets up and goes to sit with the other
ACTORS
who have already withdrawn to one side
.
DIRECTOR
[
to the
PROMPTER
]. Let’s get started, let’s get started.
PROMPTER
[
reading from the script
]. ‘In the house of Leone Gala. A strange room, both dining-room and study.’
DIRECTOR
[
turning to the
STAGE MANAGER
]. We’ll use the red set.
STAGE MANAGER
[
noting it down on a piece of paper
]. The red one. Right.
PROMPTER
[
still reading from the script
]. ‘Table ready laid and desk with books and papers. Bookshelves and china cabinets displaying precious ware. Exit rear leads to Leone’s bedroom. Side exit left for the kitchen. Main exit on the right.’
DIRECTOR
[
standing up and pointing
]. So now pay attention. Main exit over there. Kitchen exit over here. [
Turning to the
ACTOR
who plays Socrates
] You enter and exit here. [
To the
STAGE MANAGER
]
We’ll have the doorway at the rear and put up curtains. [
Sits down again
]
STAGE MANAGER
[
noting it down
]. Right.
PROMPTER
[
reading as before
]. ‘Scene One. Leone Gala, Guido Venanzi, Filippo known as Socrates.’ [
To the
DIRECTOR
] Do I have to read the stage directions as well?
DIRECTOR
. Yes, yes. I’ve told you a hundred times.
PROMPTER
[
reading
]. ‘As the curtain rises Leone Gala, wearing a chef’s hat and apron, is busy beating an egg in a bowl with a wooden spoon. Filippo, also dressed like a cook, is beating another egg. Guido Venanzi sits and listens.’
LEADING MAN
[
to the
DIRECTOR
]. But look, do I really have to wear a chef’s hat?
DIRECTOR
[
annoyed by the question
]. You certainly do. Since that’s what’s written there. [
Pointing to the script
]
LEADING MAN
. Sorry, but it’s ridiculous!
DIRECTOR
[
jumping up in a fury
]. Ridiculous! Ridiculous! What can I do about it if we don’t get any more good plays from France, so that we’re reduced to putting on stuff by Pirandello that you have to be super-clever to understand, plays that seem cut out to please nobody—not the actors, not the critics, not the public? [
The
ACTORS
laugh; he rises, goes right up to the
LEADING MAN
and shouts
] The chef’s hat, yessir! And beat those eggs! You think that beating eggs is all you’ll have to do? No such luck. You need to represent the shell of the egg you’re beating! [
The
ACTORS
laugh again and exchange ironic remarks
] Silence! And listen to me when I explain things. [
Turning to the
LEADING MAN
again
] Yes, sir, the shell: that’s to say the empty form of reason, without the content of instinct which is blind. You are reason and your wife is instinct in a play of fixed roles where you, by playing your part, are deliberately the puppet of yourself.
*
You understand?
LEADING MAN
[
opening his arms
]. Not me.
DIRECTOR
[
going back to his chair
]. Neither do I. Let’s get on with it. Anyway, you’ll love the way it ends up. [
In a friendlier tone
] Do me a favour, turn round a bit, almost facing the audience. Because otherwise, what with the obscurity of the dialogue and the fact that
you can’t be heard, the whole thing falls apart. [
Clapping his hands again
] Attention, please, attention! Let’s get started.
PROMPTER
. Sorry, boss, but do you mind if I put the cover back on the prompt box? There’s a bit of a draught.
DIRECTOR
. Sure, sure, just do it!
In the meantime the
USHER
,
wearing his braided cap, has entered the auditorium; making his way down the aisle, he has come up to the stage to announce to the
DIRECTOR
the arrival of the
SIX CHARACTERS
who have also entered and are following some way behind, looking around, somewhat lost and bewildered
.
In the staging of this play all available means should be employed to ensure the crucial effect which is the avoidance of any confusion between the
SIX CHARACTERS
and the
ACTORS OF THE COMPANY
.
The placing of the two groups, indicated by the stage directions, when the
CHARACTERS
climb onto the stage, will obviously come in useful here, as will a different colouring obtained by appropriate lighting. But the most effective and fitting means suggested here is the use of special masks for the
CHARACTERS
—masks of some material that does not lose its form with sweat but that is still light enough for the actors to wear, designed and cut out so as not to cover the eyes, nostrils, and mouth. This brings out the underlying meaning of the play. The
CHARACTERS
should not appear as
phantoms,
but as
created realities,
changeless constructs of the imagination, and therefore more real and substantial than the
ACTORS
with their natural mutability. The masks help create the impression of figures fashioned by art, each fixed immutably in the expression of its own fundamental feeling
—Remorse
for the
FATHER
, Revenge
for the
STEPDAUGHTER
, Scorn
for the
SON
,
and
Sorrow
for the
MOTHER
with static wax tears welling from her dark eyes and running down her cheeks, as in the painted and sculpted images of the
Mater dolorosa
in churches. And her clothing should be of some special material and style, sober, with stiff folds and statuesque volume; in short, not looking like a material you could buy in any old shop to be cut out and sewn by any old dressmaker
.