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Altona/Men without Shadows/The Flies
Vintage paperback
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First published January 1, 1965
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About the author
Jean-Paul Sartre
1,094 books12.9k followersJean-Paul Charles Aymard Sartre was a French philosopher, playwright, novelist, screenwriter, political activist, biographer, and literary critic, considered a leading figure in 20th-century French philosophy and Marxism. Sartre was one of the key figures in the philosophy of existentialism (and phenomenology). His work has influenced sociology, critical theory, post-colonial theory, and literary studies. He was awarded the 1964 Nobel Prize in Literature despite attempting to refuse it, saying that he always declined official honors and that "a writer should not allow himself to be turned into an institution."
Sartre held an open relationship with prominent feminist and fellow existentialist philosopher Simone de Beauvoir. Together, Sartre and de Beauvoir challenged the cultural and social assumptions and expectations of their upbringings, which they considered bourgeois, in both lifestyles and thought. The conflict between oppressive, spiritually destructive conformity (mauvaise foi, literally, 'bad faith') and an "authentic" way of "being" became the dominant theme of Sartre's early work, a theme embodied in his principal philosophical work Being and Nothingness (L'Être et le Néant, 1943). Sartre's introduction to his philosophy is his work Existentialism Is a Humanism (L'existentialisme est un humanisme, 1946), originally presented as a lecture.
Sartre held an open relationship with prominent feminist and fellow existentialist philosopher Simone de Beauvoir. Together, Sartre and de Beauvoir challenged the cultural and social assumptions and expectations of their upbringings, which they considered bourgeois, in both lifestyles and thought. The conflict between oppressive, spiritually destructive conformity (mauvaise foi, literally, 'bad faith') and an "authentic" way of "being" became the dominant theme of Sartre's early work, a theme embodied in his principal philosophical work Being and Nothingness (L'Être et le Néant, 1943). Sartre's introduction to his philosophy is his work Existentialism Is a Humanism (L'existentialisme est un humanisme, 1946), originally presented as a lecture.
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Displaying 1 - 10 of 10 reviews
September 14, 2023
Altona - 3(4?)/5. Incredibly odd and interesting play at the very least. Can't help but think the obsession with crabs here is influenced by Sartre's fear of lobsters.
Men Without Shadows - 2/5. Parts of this were very intriguing, but for the most part a disappointing play that said and did very little. Surrounded the torture of some rebels, mostly pontificating about the nature of being freed by this capture and the threat of death etc., but it felt repetitive and one-note. A rarely seen poor showing from Sartre here.
The Flies - 3(4?)/5. I thought this was great, but so does everyone. Needs little expansion, portrayal of Zeus in this one was fun.
Men Without Shadows - 2/5. Parts of this were very intriguing, but for the most part a disappointing play that said and did very little. Surrounded the torture of some rebels, mostly pontificating about the nature of being freed by this capture and the threat of death etc., but it felt repetitive and one-note. A rarely seen poor showing from Sartre here.
The Flies - 3(4?)/5. I thought this was great, but so does everyone. Needs little expansion, portrayal of Zeus in this one was fun.
August 22, 2019
The average score for the collection was 3/5.
Altona (4/5) - A complex character study that deals well with guilt, trauma and an unhealthy family structure hiding behind a facade of propriety. Staging this show must be at least a four hour production.
Men Without Shadows (3/5) - An interesting look at the effects of torture in WW2, using the perspective of the torturers to make it even more harrowing. Let down by its slightness and inability to define its characters strongly.
The Flies (2/5) - The main appeal of this play is that it was written during the occupation of Paris and you can see the clear digs at the Nazis. Otherwise, too stiff and self-indulgent for me. I UNDERSTAND THAT THE FLIES ARE A METAPHOR. I GOT IT.
Altona (4/5) - A complex character study that deals well with guilt, trauma and an unhealthy family structure hiding behind a facade of propriety. Staging this show must be at least a four hour production.
Men Without Shadows (3/5) - An interesting look at the effects of torture in WW2, using the perspective of the torturers to make it even more harrowing. Let down by its slightness and inability to define its characters strongly.
The Flies (2/5) - The main appeal of this play is that it was written during the occupation of Paris and you can see the clear digs at the Nazis. Otherwise, too stiff and self-indulgent for me. I UNDERSTAND THAT THE FLIES ARE A METAPHOR. I GOT IT.
July 22, 2020
It's been a long, long time since I read any plays… and considering that I hated Sartre’s The Roads to Freedom (1st novel in the trilogy), I expected to dislike his plays as well. Instead, I kinda enjoyed them. Although what I really felt towards my favorite one, Men Without Shadows, bordered on horror, visceral angst and mental anguish. Interestingly, the other two plays are much more famous and yet it was the least known one that touched me the most. It’s such a tough job, to describe what goes on between people trapped in a terrible situation, awaiting torture and then being tortured. Awaiting death and then dying… This play felt much more real, but just as hopeless as, than the other two plays. The Flies was my least favorite as it felt too stylized, too much in the service of ideas, and still I wanted to finish it too. Perhaps this was more due to the genre itself. As a child and a teenager I read plays voraciously – Moliere, Goldoni, Chekhov, some Shakespeare. I don’t even know why I stopped in adulthood, but I’m going to revise this state of things.
July 1, 2016
Can anybody help me find the play online? I need it for my course but couldn't find it on the net. I would appreciate it if anyone could provide me with the pdf!
May 25, 2024
Men Without Shadows:
What does it mean to live a meaningful life? What does it mean to die a meaningful death? In seeking purpose, all the characters forget their true purpose. They were supposed to endure tortue in order for their leader to survive and for the greater war outcome. In the end, it became a game of endurance for the sake of endurance. For pride, for vanity; they endured not for the greater good but for the validation that they would get out of enduring for the greater good.
Lucie lived to protect her loved ones—her brother Francois, her lover Jean; in the end, nothing mattered except her dignity. after she was humiliated in the deepest way possible, her only retaliation was her silence, her coldness. Men’s ideas of dignity and vanity are lofty and laughable next to woman’s. She is chained to her body. To rape a woman is to dehumanise her in the worst way possible; in his hands, she becomes nothing more than an animal—this is a fate that no man can suffer.
Henri played at being above it all. he was the most deluded of all of them—pretending he had nothing to lose when he had the largest ego, and in these situations, ego will be the death of one. Henri craved purpose, and he would do abhorrent things if it meant he could die for something. Life didn’t mean very much to him at all. He was obsessed with dying for a purpose, to the point where he would rather die for nothing than live a morally ambiguous yet potentially useful life.
Sorbier alone saw the war for what it was—atrocity. He saw the value of individual human life: in the little girl who screamed in the fire, in the 300 that lay dead, in his parents making early supper. He was not stoic like Canoris, nor was he hyper-obsessed with purpose like Henri. He was very human, and perhaps the most relatable one of them all. Nevertheless, in the end, he did what he had to do—an admirable mention.
Francois might have been just a kid, but perhaps he understood better than anyone the value of life. Is it weak to value one’s own life, above all? Is it childish? What is war, next to survival? What is purpose, next to the smell of the wet earth?
Jean needed to feel like part of something. It was not Lucie he loved, but the fact that she could absolve him. Of what? Simply existing in an objectively less-worse situation. His only crime was not suffering enough, and he was thus punished with loneliness, cursed to be a shadow.
Canoris might be the only good one of them all. He alone remembered their purpose. He alone did what Jean, his leader, asked of him. And the only reason he could remain stoic was his total nihilism. Nothing mattered to him—not his life, not his death. A man without an ego cannot truly die.
On the other side, the same shenanigans were taking place. Clochet is a bloodthirsty animal, but Landrieu has more human motives—to take their pride. It is evident that life and death mattered naught to him as well—all he cared about was breaking their spirit. To derive pleasure from watching a fellow human in pain is one thing; to revel in another’s psychological torture is another. Landrieu represents humanity at its sickest.
In the end, none of them got what they wanted. There is a terrible finality to death that makes all else in life trivial. They spent their final moments agonising over whether to live or die, not realising that they never had a real choice at all—this was their most tragic fate.
What does it mean to live a meaningful life? What does it mean to die a meaningful death? In seeking purpose, all the characters forget their true purpose. They were supposed to endure tortue in order for their leader to survive and for the greater war outcome. In the end, it became a game of endurance for the sake of endurance. For pride, for vanity; they endured not for the greater good but for the validation that they would get out of enduring for the greater good.
Lucie lived to protect her loved ones—her brother Francois, her lover Jean; in the end, nothing mattered except her dignity. after she was humiliated in the deepest way possible, her only retaliation was her silence, her coldness. Men’s ideas of dignity and vanity are lofty and laughable next to woman’s. She is chained to her body. To rape a woman is to dehumanise her in the worst way possible; in his hands, she becomes nothing more than an animal—this is a fate that no man can suffer.
Henri played at being above it all. he was the most deluded of all of them—pretending he had nothing to lose when he had the largest ego, and in these situations, ego will be the death of one. Henri craved purpose, and he would do abhorrent things if it meant he could die for something. Life didn’t mean very much to him at all. He was obsessed with dying for a purpose, to the point where he would rather die for nothing than live a morally ambiguous yet potentially useful life.
Sorbier alone saw the war for what it was—atrocity. He saw the value of individual human life: in the little girl who screamed in the fire, in the 300 that lay dead, in his parents making early supper. He was not stoic like Canoris, nor was he hyper-obsessed with purpose like Henri. He was very human, and perhaps the most relatable one of them all. Nevertheless, in the end, he did what he had to do—an admirable mention.
Francois might have been just a kid, but perhaps he understood better than anyone the value of life. Is it weak to value one’s own life, above all? Is it childish? What is war, next to survival? What is purpose, next to the smell of the wet earth?
Jean needed to feel like part of something. It was not Lucie he loved, but the fact that she could absolve him. Of what? Simply existing in an objectively less-worse situation. His only crime was not suffering enough, and he was thus punished with loneliness, cursed to be a shadow.
Canoris might be the only good one of them all. He alone remembered their purpose. He alone did what Jean, his leader, asked of him. And the only reason he could remain stoic was his total nihilism. Nothing mattered to him—not his life, not his death. A man without an ego cannot truly die.
On the other side, the same shenanigans were taking place. Clochet is a bloodthirsty animal, but Landrieu has more human motives—to take their pride. It is evident that life and death mattered naught to him as well—all he cared about was breaking their spirit. To derive pleasure from watching a fellow human in pain is one thing; to revel in another’s psychological torture is another. Landrieu represents humanity at its sickest.
In the end, none of them got what they wanted. There is a terrible finality to death that makes all else in life trivial. They spent their final moments agonising over whether to live or die, not realising that they never had a real choice at all—this was their most tragic fate.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
February 25, 2012
Les Séquestrés d'Altona
Originally published on my blog here in March 1998.
As with Sartre's other plays and novels, Altona deals with the practical outworkings of his philosophical ideas - the play reads almost like a thought experiment from, say, Being and Nothingness, but crucially missing the surrounding explanation. It is, however, not clear, at least to me, exactly what he is saying here.
The direct subject matter is also based around a theme common to much else written by Sartre: the reactions people had to the Second World War. It starts with a meeting of a rich German family following the announcement that the family's patriarch is dying. Some unpleasant facts about the family history are brought to light; the eldest son, Franz, thought to be dead since the war and the perpetrator of various crimes during his service, is revealed to be living hidden away in an upstairs room that he has not left for years. He refuses to see his father, whom he feels (with some justification) is responsible for his position. Remaining in his room, he has only a distorted picture of the outside world, which has been fabricated by his sister, Leni.
Once the story has been set up, the remainder of the play concerns the attempts of Franz's sister-in-law Joanna to get to know him, and Leni's attempts to prevent this. The whole situation is manipulated by the dying father to try to get Franz to see him, but when the meeting finally happens, it doesn't go as either of them anticipated it.
So what is the play about? The question of free-will and choice is clearly fairly important. How much choice did Franz have during the war? How much was he forced into committing his crimes by his father's manipulation and collaboration with the more unpleasant aspects of the Nazi regime, not to mention the way in which he was brought up. The way in which he has been imprisoned in one room and has been unable to get an accurate picture of the world outside no doubt has something to say about perception. But my overall impression was that the philosophical content was not clear enough to make a point, while the play read too much like a philosophy essay to succeed as a play.
Morts sans Sépulture
Originally published on my blog here in March 1998.
This is a gruelling three act play about the horrors of war. The standard Sartrean philosophical subtext of free will and choice is there, but the play seems rather more heart-felt than some of his others. The effect of the war on people's humanity is the major theme of the play.
Towards the end of the war, a group of partisans has carried out an attack on a village which horrifically killed many innocent people; they have been caught by a unit of the collaborating French army. One man has escaped, and the partisans (both men and women) are tortured to find out his whereabouts. One partisan kills himself, another is killed by the others before he can talk.
Both the partisans and their torturers are presented as capable of human compassion and inhuman callousness. This makes the pointlessness and horror of war more apparent than the myriad of Second World War stories which make one side out to be worse than the other. (This is one reason why the First World War, where there were no excuses of the level of that provided by Adolf Hitler, is more emotionally upsetting to me.) The play is not a pleasant read, and could be extremely unpleasant to see, but I feel that I have gained something by having read it.
Les Mouches
Originally published on my blog here in March 1998.
The Flies is a three act play telling the same story as Sophocles' Electra, but from a thoroughly twentieth century point of view. The familiar story concerns the return from exile and revenge by Orestes of the murder of his father, Agamemnon, by his mother and her lover (Clytemnestra and Aegisthus). For his murder of his mother, he faces punishment by the Furies (or Flies), who are the mythological guardians of the family.
In Sartre's version of the story, the kingdom of Argos has become a place of permanent penitence, where the people bewail their sins in an atmosphere full of flies, showing their corruption. The gods encourage this, realising the value to them of a nation that is truly "god-fearing". Zeus, transformed from his role in Greek myth as king of the gods and ruler of the sky, visits Argos as god of the dead and of flies. The purpose of his visit is to dissuade Orestes from his attack on Clytemnestra and Aegisthus.
Orestes is already not very keen on revenge; he feels that he has no reason to care for Argos (having been brought up in comfort in pleasant Athens); he feels nothing but disgust for what he sees of the lifestyle followed in Argos. It is only when he speaks to his sister, Electra, who is treated as a servant in the palace, and when Zeus tries to dissuade him, that he actually decides to go ahead.
The play is basically an attack on the idea of religion as Sartre saw it, and particularly on the idea of religious guilt. The gods are presented as immoral beings who delight in human suffering, which brings people back to belief in them. Orestes makes his choice without reference to the gods and begins the process by which rationality defeats and destroys religion. He uses his unbelief to defeat the Furies; he alone is the judge of his conduct.
Sartre has basically made religion out to be something easy to discredit, and proceeds to discredit it. It is all to easy, too glib to be at all convincing.
Originally published on my blog here in March 1998.
As with Sartre's other plays and novels, Altona deals with the practical outworkings of his philosophical ideas - the play reads almost like a thought experiment from, say, Being and Nothingness, but crucially missing the surrounding explanation. It is, however, not clear, at least to me, exactly what he is saying here.
The direct subject matter is also based around a theme common to much else written by Sartre: the reactions people had to the Second World War. It starts with a meeting of a rich German family following the announcement that the family's patriarch is dying. Some unpleasant facts about the family history are brought to light; the eldest son, Franz, thought to be dead since the war and the perpetrator of various crimes during his service, is revealed to be living hidden away in an upstairs room that he has not left for years. He refuses to see his father, whom he feels (with some justification) is responsible for his position. Remaining in his room, he has only a distorted picture of the outside world, which has been fabricated by his sister, Leni.
Once the story has been set up, the remainder of the play concerns the attempts of Franz's sister-in-law Joanna to get to know him, and Leni's attempts to prevent this. The whole situation is manipulated by the dying father to try to get Franz to see him, but when the meeting finally happens, it doesn't go as either of them anticipated it.
So what is the play about? The question of free-will and choice is clearly fairly important. How much choice did Franz have during the war? How much was he forced into committing his crimes by his father's manipulation and collaboration with the more unpleasant aspects of the Nazi regime, not to mention the way in which he was brought up. The way in which he has been imprisoned in one room and has been unable to get an accurate picture of the world outside no doubt has something to say about perception. But my overall impression was that the philosophical content was not clear enough to make a point, while the play read too much like a philosophy essay to succeed as a play.
Morts sans Sépulture
Originally published on my blog here in March 1998.
This is a gruelling three act play about the horrors of war. The standard Sartrean philosophical subtext of free will and choice is there, but the play seems rather more heart-felt than some of his others. The effect of the war on people's humanity is the major theme of the play.
Towards the end of the war, a group of partisans has carried out an attack on a village which horrifically killed many innocent people; they have been caught by a unit of the collaborating French army. One man has escaped, and the partisans (both men and women) are tortured to find out his whereabouts. One partisan kills himself, another is killed by the others before he can talk.
Both the partisans and their torturers are presented as capable of human compassion and inhuman callousness. This makes the pointlessness and horror of war more apparent than the myriad of Second World War stories which make one side out to be worse than the other. (This is one reason why the First World War, where there were no excuses of the level of that provided by Adolf Hitler, is more emotionally upsetting to me.) The play is not a pleasant read, and could be extremely unpleasant to see, but I feel that I have gained something by having read it.
Les Mouches
Originally published on my blog here in March 1998.
The Flies is a three act play telling the same story as Sophocles' Electra, but from a thoroughly twentieth century point of view. The familiar story concerns the return from exile and revenge by Orestes of the murder of his father, Agamemnon, by his mother and her lover (Clytemnestra and Aegisthus). For his murder of his mother, he faces punishment by the Furies (or Flies), who are the mythological guardians of the family.
In Sartre's version of the story, the kingdom of Argos has become a place of permanent penitence, where the people bewail their sins in an atmosphere full of flies, showing their corruption. The gods encourage this, realising the value to them of a nation that is truly "god-fearing". Zeus, transformed from his role in Greek myth as king of the gods and ruler of the sky, visits Argos as god of the dead and of flies. The purpose of his visit is to dissuade Orestes from his attack on Clytemnestra and Aegisthus.
Orestes is already not very keen on revenge; he feels that he has no reason to care for Argos (having been brought up in comfort in pleasant Athens); he feels nothing but disgust for what he sees of the lifestyle followed in Argos. It is only when he speaks to his sister, Electra, who is treated as a servant in the palace, and when Zeus tries to dissuade him, that he actually decides to go ahead.
The play is basically an attack on the idea of religion as Sartre saw it, and particularly on the idea of religious guilt. The gods are presented as immoral beings who delight in human suffering, which brings people back to belief in them. Orestes makes his choice without reference to the gods and begins the process by which rationality defeats and destroys religion. He uses his unbelief to defeat the Furies; he alone is the judge of his conduct.
Sartre has basically made religion out to be something easy to discredit, and proceeds to discredit it. It is all to easy, too glib to be at all convincing.
June 1, 2014
After reading enough plays by Jean-Paul Sartre he starts getting somewhat predictable. Every one presents their characters with big, life-changing choices, and then emphasising the futility thereof. Ultimately his characters have little to no choice in their lives, with few exceptions. But that is just the ending, the journey to that conclusion differs significantly between his plays; sometimes it manages to make some powerful statement (as in The Respectable Prostitute, a play compiled in another collection), but sometimes it feels like he is just crafting stories to get his philosophy across.
Men Without Shadows is here a standout in the former, as wartime torturers and their victims make for great grounds for this futility of choice and lack of freedom, while also looking into the psychology of torture from both sides. A haunting narrative makes this one of his best, short and concise without losing any of its power.
Altona, meanwhile, looks at war from afar. More than a decade after the loss of WWII, a German soldier has gone mad and his whole family is being dragged down with him. His degradation, contrasted with the rich, flourishing family--representative of Germany's own economic revival--makes for an interesting case study, albeit a slightly bloated one. Bringing in too many elements to the fold diminishes its impact somewhat, although it remains entertaining and enjoyable all the way through, if in a somewhat morbid manner.
Finally, The Flies is a retelling of the ancient Greek play of Electra, and it shows all the way through. He incorporates mythology--Zeus being an actual character throughout the play--and weaves a tale of revenge and fate. All the familiar themes are here, but in a refreshingly different skin; yet, when it is all said and done, even this retelling ends up another iteration of his existentialism. An amiable effort, though, and the Greek gods line up nicely with the meaning of life and choice.
In the end, this is a nice, respectable collection of plays, though not an absolute necessity if already familiar with Sartre's other works.
Men Without Shadows is here a standout in the former, as wartime torturers and their victims make for great grounds for this futility of choice and lack of freedom, while also looking into the psychology of torture from both sides. A haunting narrative makes this one of his best, short and concise without losing any of its power.
Altona, meanwhile, looks at war from afar. More than a decade after the loss of WWII, a German soldier has gone mad and his whole family is being dragged down with him. His degradation, contrasted with the rich, flourishing family--representative of Germany's own economic revival--makes for an interesting case study, albeit a slightly bloated one. Bringing in too many elements to the fold diminishes its impact somewhat, although it remains entertaining and enjoyable all the way through, if in a somewhat morbid manner.
Finally, The Flies is a retelling of the ancient Greek play of Electra, and it shows all the way through. He incorporates mythology--Zeus being an actual character throughout the play--and weaves a tale of revenge and fate. All the familiar themes are here, but in a refreshingly different skin; yet, when it is all said and done, even this retelling ends up another iteration of his existentialism. An amiable effort, though, and the Greek gods line up nicely with the meaning of life and choice.
In the end, this is a nice, respectable collection of plays, though not an absolute necessity if already familiar with Sartre's other works.
Read
July 29, 2011Wise but the ending isn't as deep as the main part
September 15, 2018
read it in 2007 ...every bit excellent! and of course existentialist
Read
June 28, 2010I have to mention that I only read the Flies!!!
Displaying 1 - 10 of 10 reviews