Towards the end of this summer, I began preparing a study packet that would be distributed to a number of classes across campus in preparation for the visit of Tony Kushner and our production of The Illusion. The task was new and seemingly dangerous for me; I had never created a “study packet” before, certainly never one for a particular play, and certainly never one for a play by a writer who will be visiting our campus very, very soon. So far, I have heard positive responses about the packet, though I am sure my next one will be far better and far less haphazardly crafted. Here is an excerpt from my brief thematic analysis of the play.
Introduction
As the great magician Alcandre says in Act One of The Illusion, “There are always these small discrepancies between vision and memory” (10); one might also contend that there are often small (if not sometimes large) discrepancies between quality and renown, particularly in the case of Tony Kushner’s play. Kushner’s text, an adaptation of a French classic by one of the Gallic nation’s most celebrated 17th century playwrights, was completed midway through writing his masterpiece, Angels in America: A Gay Fantasia on National Themes, and, like virtually all of the author’s works, remains overshadowed by that particular opus. This is by no means a reflection on the quality of the play; rather, it is the result of a tendency to dismiss this text as a light, if well-crafted trifle, a trivial distraction in comparison to Kushner’s towering works of art and intellect. This is a grave disservice to a piece that has not only enjoyed an exceedingly healthy life on American stages of the professional, amateur, and educational varieties all across the country, but also more than holds its own in the Kushner canon as a text complete with its author’s finest qualities: comprehensive mastery of the English language, a rich command of both pathos and humor, a flair for the theatrical, and a razor sharp insight into humanity’s complex nature.
This reading of the play will provide newcomers with a brief introduction to the French original, L’Illusion Comique, by Pierre Corneille, and draw some comparisons between it and Kushner’s adaptation. More importantly, it will examine the three thematic pillars of the play: love, magic, and theatre. These three elements are spoken of constantly in Kushner’s writings and interviews, and they very much find their place at the forefront of this play, one that seems to hold a special place in its author’s heart as a celebration of subjects he holds dear.
L’Illusion Comique
L’Illusion Comique was written in 1635 by the renowned neoclassical playwright Pierre Corneille, the son of a lawyer – a connection, perhaps, to the character of Pridamant? – who became a major force in the French intelligentsia and literary circle during the 17th Century. Corneille was an accomplished socialite and a favorite of the powerful Cardinal Richelieu, who secured the author a hefty patronage and welcomed him into the Académie Française in 1647. Corneille is almost certainly best remembered for Le Cid, a “tragicomedy” that rocked the French intellectual and artistic establishment by seeming to bend the “Aristotelian” rules of drama. Thus, Corneille was a man who appeared to excel in playing political games but certainly did not seem averse to playing games with the “rules” of good drama.
L’Illusion Comique is often celebrated as one of the first examples of “metatheatre” (theatre about theatre, to put it briefly), securing it a rather important place in the history of the art form. As Ranjit Bolt writes in the introduction to his translation/adaption of three of Corneille’s plays, L’Illusion “must be one of the first plays ever written to deal so explicitly with the nature of theatre – and not merely that, but to incorporate that message into the very structure of the play” (13). As Bolt notes, this quality, perhaps more than any other, is what makes The Illusion, both Kushner’s and Corneille’s, so popular.
Kushner’s Illusion vs. Corneille’s Illusion
Kushner describes his Illusion as being “freely adapted from Pierre Conreille’s L’Illusion Comique,” a description that holds up when comparing the two works. Kushner leaves the main thrust of the piece virtually intact from start to finish: a fussy lawyer seeks out the help of a mysterious magician to get an update on what his rebellious son is doing with his life, only to find his son embroiled in an increasingly dangerous game of intrigue and romance, culminating in his son’s apparent “murder” and the subsequent revelation that the young man and the people he is with are all, in fact, actors working through a theatrical repertoire. Alcandre’s calculated grandeur, Pridamant’s literal-minded neuroses, and the plethora of romantic stock types (young lovers, vociferous braggarts, sniveling rivals, etc.) in the “illusions” are all taken from Corneille’s original and preserved, though certainly sketched in a light more fitting for contemporary audiences. One quality that brings Kushner’s text firmly into the modern era is its eclectic style, which shifts fluidly from prose to free-verse, and sometimes from free-verse into rhyming couplets. While this shows off Kushner’s considerable qualities as a master of language, it also goes separates his Illusion from English-language translations of L’Illusion Comique by the likes of Ranjit Bolt and Richard Wilbur, translations that are very often rendered in rhyming couplets to capture a sense of the meter used in the original. Kushner’s version plays more like a jazz piece, switching rhythm, style, and composition as it sees fit.
Kushner’s major changes to the text largely have to do with the cast of characters. Perhaps the most obvious is the elimination of Pridamant’s friend, Dorante (a mostly inconsequential loss), and the introduction of a character simply called the Amanuensis (“amanuensis” means, roughly, “secretary”). He acts as a servant to Alcandre, who surgically removed the man’s tongue and pierced his eardrums in the interest of maintaining privacy in his affairs (3); however, Alcandre does retain the capacity to restore both the man’s hearing and speech, as he shows from time to time throughout the play. The Amanuensis has the distinction of being allowed to shatter the barrier between the “real world” and the “illusion” by stepping into the role of Geronte, the lovely Isabelle’s stern father. In L’Illusion Comique, Pridamant’s son, the son’s beloved, her servant, and the son’s rival are all presented under the same names (Clindor, Isabelle, Lyse, and Adraste, respectively) throughout the three illusions; only in Kushner’s version do the players change names each time a new illusion is rendered. The young lover in the third rendition (this time called Theogenes) meets his “death” directly at the hands of Prince Florilame, his master, at the end of Kushner’s Illusion, but in Corneille’s original, it is Florilame’s servant, Eraste, who performs the deed; like the removal of the Dorante character, Eraste’s elimination is largely inconsequential.
The text concludes on arguably its most pivotal moment, one entirely unique to Kushner’s version: Matamore’s emergence into the “real world.” Upon his arrival, he encounters the Amanuensis, thus briefly uniting the only two characters who have existed in both the “real” and “illusory” worlds. Matamore inquires after the location of the moon, and once he is fixed on it, sets off on a journey to what he hopes will be a better life, leaving the Amanuensis to deliver the last line straight to us: “not in this life, but in the next” (119). This change, among others, is a pivotal one, taking Corneille’s metatheatrical exercise and multiplying its facets to create a puzzle-box of possibilities: what is real? What is an illusion? Is there a difference at all? And what does the Amanuensis mean by “the next life?” The afterlife? The next performance? By concluding on the most confounding twist yet, Kushner leaves us to question everything we have just seen, and leaves us to look for our own answers. One wonders if it is exactly how the first French audiences felt after experiencing Corneille’s original.