Jean Anouilh was a French dramatist and screenwriter whose career spanned five decades, producing works that ranged from high drama to absurdist farce, though he is best remembered for his 1944 production of Sophocles’ Antigone, which, despite passing censorship, was widely interpreted as a critique of the Vichy regime. Born to a tailor father and a violinist mother, Anouilh absorbed the theatre from an early age, attending rehearsals and reading scripts, and began writing plays at twelve. The family moved to Paris, where he attended the Lycée Chaptal and briefly studied law at the Sorbonne before leaving to work in advertising. Early in his career he wrote comic scenes for cinema and worked as secretary to director Louis Jouvet, whose mentorship and the influence of playwright Jean Giraudoux inspired Anouilh to pursue theatre seriously. He debuted with collaborative and solo plays such as Humulus le muet, L’Hermine, and Mandarine, which, though not commercially successful, led to greater recognition with Le voyageur sans bagage in 1937. Anouilh developed distinct categories for his plays, including pièces noires, or tragedies like Antigone, exploring moral integrity against compromise; pièces roses, comedic works emphasizing fantasy and freedom; pièces brillantes, witty plays set in aristocratic environments; pièces grinçantes, darker, ironic comedies; and pièces costumées, historical dramas such as The Lark and Becket, highlighting protagonists pursuing moral paths amidst corruption. His later works, often called pièces secrètes, focused on dramatists and theatre professionals, emphasizing family and intimate relationships over conventional theatrical action. Politically, Anouilh remained largely apolitical, serving in the French Army and living under German occupation, his plays often interpreted as ambivalent reflections on resistance and pragmatism. Critically, he was recognized for blending lyrical language, precise dialogue, and structured plots, producing a prolific output for over fifty years, and winning accolades including the Prix mondial Cino Del Duca, consideration for the 1962 Nobel Prize in Literature, and the inaugural Grand Prix du Théâtre de l'Académie française. His works continued to be performed internationally, balancing existential concerns, moral dilemmas, and humor, reflecting a nuanced perspective on human nature. By the end of his career, he had influenced French theatre deeply, navigating between realism, comedy, and tragedy, and remained a vital figure in twentieth-century drama until his death, leaving a legacy of plays that explore the tension between idealism and compromise, the demands of conscience, and the pursuit of integrity in a flawed world.
I'm not sure to have understood/analysed everything properly as I'm reading this with a raging fever. Is it an odd satire ? Making fun of Antoine and his class or of the people that surround him ? I probably should reread this short piece with a clearer mind one day. However it has charming qualities to it, as well as rather funny scenes. If anything it is at least an enjoyable read.
Des invectives à n'en plus finir, des échanges qui n'ont parfois ni queue ni tête, tout comme la temporalité de la pièce, ou encore des personnages plus pathétiques et étranges que les autres.
Les poissons rouges ou Mon père, ce héros, reste une comédie grinçante agréable à lire, le temps de quelques heures. Ce qui est moins facile, par contre, c'est d'en comprendre le sens -- alors peut-être ne faut-il que rire de la lire, et ignorer toute signification secondaire du texte.
La légèreté de la vie à la Kundera. Laissez-nous tranquille. Les riches et les pauvres. L’absurde qui fait plaisir. L’héritage du caractère du père laissé au fils. Les femmes et les hommes - un peu plus dans l’ancien temps.
Acheté car Nekfeu disait l’avoir lu d’une traite dans une interview.
Lu d’une traite comme Nekfeu le disait dans une interview.
À lire en remettant dans le context de l'époque et en sachant que certaines idées ainsi que certains mots ont bien mal vieillis. Ceci mis à part, les réparties sont incroyables et l'absurdité exquise. J'aime le rythme, j'aurais aimé la voir jouée.
Un livre très étrange. Peut-être je ne l’ai pas compris très bien. Mais dès que l'auteur a écrit « qui a pissé dans les poissons rouges », j’ai su que ce serait une lecture bizarre