La guerre : c'est une nouvelle fois le thème de ce Goûter des généraux , l'une des oeuvres les plus corrosives et les plus abouties - que nous ait laissées l'auteur du Déserteur et de L'Équarrissage pour tous . Une guerre contre les plus faibles, bien sûr, cyniquement décidée par les politiques, afin de faire oublier leurs échecs et leur médiocrité... Une guerre qui ne fait pas du tout l'affaire du général de La Pétardière-Frenouillou, lequel préfère organiser des goûters chez sa maman avec ses petits camarades ! Rien de démonstratif, en effet, chez Boris Vian : pas d'autres armes que celle d'un humour débridé, imprévisible, libérateur. Cette pièce, écrite en 1951, fut représentée pour la première fois en 1964, en Allemagne... puis en France, en 1965.
Ce même rire est à l'oeuvre dans Le Dernier des métiers , où un autre pouvoir est mis sur la sellette à travers l'inoubliable Père Saureilles, prédicateur mondain, véritable star du showbiz religieux, et dans l'étonnant Chasseur français , comédie musicale des plus grinçantes, où l'on suivra, entre autres, les tribulations de la marquise de Piripin, trop éprise de petites annonces, de rencontres coquines et de Série noire...
Un feu d'artifice de trouvailles, d'inépuisable invention verbale et théâtrale.
Boris Vian was a French polymath: writer, poet, musician, singer, translator, critic, actor, inventor and engineer. He is best remembered for novels such as L’Écume des jours and L'Arrache-cœur (translated into English as Froth on the Daydream and Heartsnatcher, respectively). He is also known for highly controversial "criminal" fiction released under the pseudonym Vernon Sullivan and some of his songs (particularly the anti-war Le Déserteur). Vian was also fascinated with jazz: he served as liaison for, among others, Duke Ellington and Miles Davis in Paris, wrote for several French jazz-reviews (Le Jazz Hot, Paris Jazz) and published numerous articles dealing with jazz both in the United States and in France.
The General's Tea Party was first produced in 1965 at the Théâtre de la Gaîté-Montparnasse in Paris, with the first English translated version coming the following year at the Jeanetta Cochrane Theatre in London. The play is very much one of farce, and reminded me in many ways of Dario Fo. It opens with a fractious French Prime Minister paying a home visit to one of his top Generals, James Audubon Wilson de la Petardiere-Frenouillou, fiftysomething, living with his mother, who still treats him like a little boy. War is to be declared! Because of poor hardware sales, apprently. Possibly on Morocco or Algeria? Like I said, it's a farce. What follows is a tea party with other generals and the Archbishop, where the idea of war is wrangled about over cookies, cakes, and Aniseed liqueur. Act two takes place in the office of the foreign secretary, before moving on to a fronline underground command post in act three, where the squabbling juvenile minded generals, through boredom, play games similar to the likes of musical chairs, before a mad round of Russian roulette finishes things off. An enjoyable and riotous load of old nonsense that, if one were to look at it in a serious note, does at least make sense in regard to the idea that war is just plain silly, stupid, and a waste of time.
Julio Cortázar'ın Edebiyat Dersleri kitabında ismi geçtiği için okumaya karar vermiştim. Savaşın saçmalığına dair kaba güldürü diyebiliriz. İncelikle değinilen tarihi, politik, sosyal göndermeler olsa da çoğunlukla hiciv yanı benim için basit, eski ve eh işte diyebileceğim şekildeydi. Çevirmen Ayberk Erkay'ın emeğine sağlık.
4-5 general, başbakanın uydurduğu aptalca bir bahaneyle adını bile bilmedikleri bir ülkeye savaş açmaya karar verirler. Başbakan da generallerde aptalın önde gidenidir. Savaş umurlarında bile değildir. Tek dertleri kendi boktan hayatlarıdır. Üstelik başkomutan olacak salak anneseinden deli gibi korkmaktadır. Yazar binlerce insanın ölüm kararını verecek adamı ana kuzusuna çevirmiştir. Bakmayın bunların halk kahramanı tavırlarına , bunlar gölgelerinden korkan pısırık heriflerdir demek istemektedir. Boris Vian yine savaşla dalga geçmektedir. Hem de hepsiyle. Gurur duyduklarınız dahil.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
A sort of rare play written by the great and iconic Boris Vian. Not only Anti-war, but also anti-military, anti-nation, and just plain anti-everything. One of the key plays written in the absurd school of European theater. Hard-to-find but a must for the hardcore Vian fan.
"...¿Platin, sí?... Aquí Audubon... Sí... Viejo, nos hemos olvidado de algo... ¿contra quién? ¿A quién le declaramos la guerra?... ¿qué?... Yo no le planteo cuestiones descabelladas, le planteo un asunto esencial... ¿teníamos que haberlo pensado nosotros? Nuestra tarea consiste en hacer la guerra, pero no en elegir al adversario, me parece que eso le compete a usted... Es usted quien lleva la cartera de Asuntos Exteriores... ¿que a usted le importa un comino? ¡Oh, a mí también!... Bueno... Es necesario que esto quede arreglado en seguida... ¿mañana por la mañana? De acuerdo..."
Ekonominin kötülüğünden yakınıp savaşmaya karar veren Fransa Başbakanı, savaş emrini Genelkurmay Başkanı Audubon’a iletir. Audubon, savaşı açıklamak için generalleri beş çayına çağırır. Savaş açılacaktır ama kimle savaşılacaktır? Vian’dan ironilerle dolu eğlenceli bir tiyatro oyunu. Boris Vian okumaya doyulmayan yazarlardan.
Dark sweet comedy about hypocrisy. Maybe it's Vian's way of taking revenge from state by putting them into this pitty, silly positions. I love his anger hiding in his sarcasm.
My whole life has more or less led me to say, I don’t give a shit if someone was a general or not. Maybe it’s a the various media I’ve consumed as a kid, a teen, a college student, and now near forty, but I have never really in my life felt any respect or reverence towards the idea of generals. I will come back to this point.
I can certainly say the same for Boris Vian, at least in this play. Unpublished in his lifetime, this play begins with a meeting between a general and a foreign minister over tea. In the meeting, the general drinking an herbal concoction, while the foreign minister begrudgingly takes a anisette, while desperately wanting a pernod (I know, they’re basically the same thing).
Throughout the meaning, the two say platitude after platitude about warfare and an upcoming campaign, and throughout this whole meeting, we are interrupted by the general’s mother, who is still and clearly treating him like a child. This is a sticking point for me. This continues for an additional two acts, with a rotating cast of figures playing at warcraft and statecraft, while being exposed for the children they are.
I grew up with a deep irreverence for military figures and politicians, and if we ever do fall into an actual authoritarian regime, it will either be the only thing that sustains me, my immediate downfall, or something I immediately cower on. But this play reminded me of the ways in which MASH, and Dr. Strangelove, Catch-22, and Paths of Glory deeply undercut any sense that generals every really know what they’re doing or talking about.
And this is also further illustrated to me with recent generals in the news who are either completely wastes of space, pieces of shit, or both: Stanley McCrystal, David Patreus, Michael Flynn, James Mattis, and John Kelly. It’s always been the case, still is the case. I will keep reading Boris Vian, I think.