Camus, Albert (Vol. 32)
Albert Camus 1913–1960
Algerian-born French novelist, essayist, dramatist, short story writer, and journalist. In this volume commentary on Albert Camus is focused on his plays. See also Albert Camus Criticism (Volume 1), and Volumes 2, 4, 9, 11, 14, 124.
Camus is one of the most important literary figures of the twentieth century. In his highly varied career Camus consistently, often passionately, explored and presented his major theme: the belief that people can be happy in a world without meaning. Throughout his novels, plays, essays, and stories, Camus defended the dignity and decency of the individual and asserted that through purposeful action one can overcome the apparent nihilism of the world. His notion of an "absurd" universe is premised on the tension between life in an irrational universe and the human desire for rationality. Camus's position on this dilemma, demonstrated most clearly in his essay Le mythe de Sisyphe (1943; The Myth of Sisyphus), is that each person must first recognize that life is "absurd," that is, irrational and meaningless, and then rise above the absurdity. Although this world view has led Camus to be linked with the Existentialists, he himself rejected that classification. Well regarded for his style as well as his ideas, Camus is also praised as a fierce moralist whose faith in humankind did not waver. He was awarded the Nobel Prize for literature in 1957.
Camus was born into poverty and finished school only by earning scholarships and working part-time jobs. At the Lycée d'Algiers he studied philosophy, but the tuberculosis Camus contracted before entering the university prevented him from pursuing a career as an academician. Instead, he became a journalist and immersed himself in the Algerian intellectual scene. His interest in the theater was already evident, for he helped found a theater group, adapted works for the stage, and collaborated on an original play. His first two books, L'envers et l'endroit (1937; The Wrong Side and the Right Side) and Noces (1938; Nuptials), are collections of lyrical essays detailing his early life of poverty and his travels through Europe. Also written at this time, but not published until much later, is Camus's first novel, La mort heureuse (1971; A Happy Death). This work, although less stylistically developed than his later works, touches on the themes of absurdity and self-realization which recur throughout Camus's writings. In 1942 he moved to Paris and became, along with Jean-Paul Sartre, an intellectual leader of the French Resistance.
Taken together, The Myth of Sisyphus and his novel L'étranger (1942; The Stranger) represent Camus's development of the concept of the absurd. Camus perceived the story of Sisyphus, who was doomed to push a rock up a hill only to see it continually roll back down, as a metaphor for the human condition. For Camus, life, like Sisyphus's task, is senseless, but awareness of the absurdity can help humankind overcome its condition. Meursault, the protagonist of The Stranger, shoots an Arab for no apparent reason, but he is convicted not so much for killing the man as for refusing to conform to society's standards. Because he acts only on those few things he believes in, Meursault is alienated from the society that wants him to make a show of his contriteness. Approaching his execution, Meursault accepts life as an imperfect end in itself and, although he wants to live, he resolves to die happily and with dignity.
While writing these works Camus remained active in the theater, directing and adapting works by others as well as his own. Of his four original dramas, Caligula (1944) is often considered his most significant. It recounts the young Roman emperor's search for absolute individual freedom. The death of his sister/lover shocks him into an awareness of life's absurdity, and as a result he orders and participates in random rapes, murders, and humiliations that alienate him from those around him. Most scholars see Caligula as a parable warning that individual liberty must affirm, not destroy, the bonds of humanity. Le malentendu (1944; The Misunderstanding), the story of a man's murder by his sister and mother, is often considered Camus's attempt at a modern tragedy in the classical Greek style. L'état de siège (1948; The State of Siege) has been viewed as a satiric attack on totalitarianism and an allegory demonstrating the value of courageous human action. The plague that ravishes the town and brutalizes its citizens is stopped only when one character sacrifices his life for the woman he loves. Many scholars argue that the attack on ruthless governments reflects Camus's experience living under the Nazi occupation of France. Les justes (1950; The Just Assassins) portrays a revolutionary who refuses to throw a bomb because his intended victim is accompanied by a young nephew and niece. This work, many scholars assert, further emphasizes Camus's strong sense of humanity: the end does not justify the means if the cost is human lives.
Critical reception to Camus's plays is mixed. Most critics agree that the overriding concern with intellectual and philosophical issues in Camus's dramas makes them stiff, formal, and lifeless. Many also argue that the characters in these plays are too often merely representatives of specific ideologies. Camus is admired as a director and innovator and his plays are generally well regarded as texts, but the consensus among scholars is that Camus's work for the stage is inferior to his fiction.
La peste (1947; The Plague) is a novel which deals with Camus's theme of revolt. Complementing his concept of the absurd, Camus believed in the necessity of each person to "revolt" against the common fate of humanity by seeking personal free-dom. Dr. Rieux, the protagonist of The Plague, narrates the story of several men in a plague-ridden city. The characters react in different ways, but eventually they unite in their battle against the plague. This emphasis on individual revolt is also the subject of the long essay L'homme révolté (1951; The Rebel). Examining the nature and history of revolution, Camus advances the theory that each individual must revolt against injustice by refusing to be part of it. Camus opposed mass revolutions because he believed they become nihilistic and their participants accept murder and oppression as necessary means to an end.
Camus's belief in the supremacy of the individual lies at the heart of one of the most publicized events in modern literature: Camus's break with his long-time compatriot, Jean-Paul Sartre. These two leading figures of the postwar French intellectual scene had similar literary philosophies, but their political differences led to a quarrel in the early 1950s which ended their friendship as well as their working relationship. Sartre saw the Soviet purges and labor camps of the 1940s as a stage in the Marxian dialectic process that would eventually bring about a just society. Camus, however, could not condone what he perceived to be the Communists' disregard for human rights. Played out in the international as well as Parisian press, the debate was popularly conceded to Sartre. The effect on Camus was disheartening and his fall into public scorn cast a long shadow over the remainder of his career.
In following years Camus suffered from bouts of depression and writer's block. His reputation was further damaged when he took a central stance on the issue of Arab uprisings in his native Algiers. Both the French government and the Arabs denounced him, and the furor extracted an additional toll on his emotional well-being. His next novel, La chute (1956; The Fall), is a long, enigmatic monologue of a formerly self-satisfied lawyer who suffers from guilt and relentlessly confesses his sins in order to judge others and induce them to confess as well. Some scholars noted a new tone in this work and suggested that Camus had bleakly submitted to nihilism by asserting that every person shares the guilt for a violent and corrupt world. Many argued, however, that Camus's essential love and respect for humanity is a major element of the novel; they viewed his wish for a common confession as an attempt to reaffirm human solidarity.
When Camus published his first collection of short stories, L'exil et le royaume (1957; The Exile and the Kingdom), many critics detected a new vitality and optimism in his prose. The energy of the stories, each written in a different style, led many scholars to suggest that Camus had regained direction in his career and established himself as a master of short fiction with this collection. In the following years Camus worked around political quarrels, family troubles, and ill health to begin work on a new novel, Le premier homme. He worked diligently and with great hope for this text, but before it was completed he was killed in an automobile accident.
In spite of marked fluctuations in Camus's popularity—his rise to literary fame in the 1940s occurred as rapidly as his fall from popular appeal in the years preceding his death—his literary significance remains largely undisputed. His work has elicited an enormous amount of scholarly attention and, two decades after his death, he continues to be the subject of much serious study. A defender of political liberty and personal freedom, Camus endures not only as a significant contributor to contemporary literature, but also as a figure of hope and possibility.
Consideration of ["Caligula and Three Other Plays"] by Albert Camus provokes a paradox. They are important without being good. Only one of them, it seems to me, really demands a stage production. This is "Caligula"—a play which marks a date in the French theatre. The significance of this play is related to Camus's position in literature today. Though he writes with both grace and a moving accent, his main contribution resides in his message. His work is a series of parables. He is a moralist: a man who seeks to extract a line of meaning and a principle of conduct from the turbulent contradictions of our times. His aim is to distill hope from the heart of despair….
Camus' work for the theatre, which begins with the somber fatalism of "The Misunderstanding" (1943) [also published as "Cross Purposes"], proceeds in "Caligula" (1945) to the dramatization of the flaw in an amoral revolt against the universal injustice of life and finally moves on to "The Just Assassins" (1949), dealing with the earliest Russian revolutionists. In the avowed morality play, "The State of Siege" (1948), evil is presented as a form of political dictatorship. The total impression these plays make, despite their defects as organic drama, is one of spiritual vigor and integrity. We hold Camus in high esteem because in his own way he represents "a moment in the conscience of mankind."
Harold Clurman, "The Moralist on...
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So honest a man as Camus is obviously at a disadvantage in so dishonest an institution as the theater. His sincerity has become a legend, but it has prevented him from becoming a successful dramatist. The Nobel Committee commended his "clear-sighted earnestness," and Harold Clurman called him "a moment in the conscience of mankind." Obviously, this is not a man who can easily lend himself to the subterfuges of the stage, who can say of his playwriting, as Henry James did: "Oh, how it must not be too good and how very bad it must be!" I can not think of a better application of the term "defect of his virtue"; Camus's strenuous virtue is the key to his plays and to his defective sense of the theater. Explicitly forswearing "psychology, ingenious plot-devices, and spicy situations," he requires that we take him in the full intensity of his earnestness or not at all.
Simple in plot, direct in argument, oratorically eloquent, his dramas are like few other modern plays…. Camus differs significantly from his many French contemporaries who have put ancient myths on the modern stage. The others have turned conventional myths—at least their antiquity has made them seem conventional—into instruments of iconoclasm. Obviously stimulated by French neo-classical drama, Cocteau, Giraudoux, and Sartre became the debunking inside-dopesters of ancient mythology; they made Oedipus into a young man on the make, Electra into a rather addled termagant,...
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Kenneth Haigh, as the emperor Caligula, announces in the first few moments of the play ["Caligula"] … that he is going to be the first ruler ever to "use unlimited power in an unlimited way." He is going to kill whom he likes, ravish what wives he chooses, declare famines on the instant, turn himself into a golden-wigged Venus, try absolutely everything on his unfettered march toward the impossible. He learns, shortly before he plunges from a tower to the knives that finally await him, that when everything is possible, nothing is.
Has Albert Camus' play fallen into precisely the same trap, or is it the current performance that makes the evening seem like the four whirring wheels of a high-powered automobile racing immobile on ice?
Of promised power there is plenty….
Yet there is a treadmill under foot. One crime is really not more shocking than the last. When the first bloodied body has been carted away, or the first deliberately insane law handed down to the empire, we have grasped—to the full, apparently—the uttermost limits of one man's absolute freedom. The murder of Scipio's father does not distress us more than the slaughter of Cassius' sons; when they follow one another, scene by scene, the footfall is familiar, the measured tread monotonous.
In short, drama itself seems to observe the law that our moon-maddened hero must discover for himself. If there are no limits...
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Rima Drell Reck
Albert Camus' expression of "tragedy in modern dress" portrays men struggling with the emotional and psychological facts of alienation by means of man-made justice. Caligula (from the play of the same name, written in 1938, first performed in 1945), apprehending the alienation inherent in the human condition, exercises absolute power to match the absurdity of the world, inevitably to find the same terrible face of self-separation in his own mirror. Martha, Jan, and their mother, in Le Malentendu (1944), murder and misunderstand in a search for self-definition under "the injustice of sky and climate." The Plague divides the men and women of L'Etat de siège (1948) from their own dignity and, in the end, from their lives, by exercising a justice as logical and inhuman as Caligula's; and the terrorists of Les Justes (1949) attempt to redeem the myth of absolute justice with their lives, sacrificing the relative truths which alone are available to man. Those who seek self-identity fail to recognize the futility of such a task in an absurd universe. Those who deal in justice misunderstand the "pathos of distance" between mankind and the good. (p. 42)
Alternating between a desperate lyricism which is well known to readers of his nonpolitical essays (L'Envers et l'endroit, Noces, L'eté) and the enigmatic parables of his widely known récits (L'Etranger, La Peste, La Chute), Camus' plays embody his...
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Nowhere but in France, it seems, do men of letters whose greatest talent clearly lies in other genres devote so much of their creative energy to the theatre. The Golden Age of Corneille and Racine, kept alive by an ever-growing number of French repertory companies, stands constantly before the writer, challenging him to try to rival its inaccessible perfection…. Albert Camus' passion for the theatre was lifelong, from his participation in the Algerian Worker's Theatre in 1936 to his tragically short reign as director of a government sponsored avant-garde company in 1959. In the midst of the virtually unanimous acclaim accorded him as novelist and thinker during his last years, Camus continued to see himself primarily as a man of the theatre in search of new approaches to the technical problems of the stage. And in a brief program note written for his Paris production of Requiem for a Nun, he admitted that his greatest ambition was to create a form of tragedy indigenous to our age. In each of his own plays there is, as Germaine Brée has pointed out, a solitary hero marked for destruction by a fatality which he himself has created. This seems to be the stuff of which tragedy is made. It is now generally acknowledged, however, even by those whose unrestrained admiration for the man has often paralyzed their critical faculties (one reviewer wrote that "to read Camus is to want to shake his hand") that Camus did not realize his ambition....
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James H. Clancy
[The essay from which the following excerpt is taken originally appeared in Educational Theatre Journal, October 1961.]
One of the most frequently noted aspects of the contemporary theatrical scene is the triumphant arrival of unintelligibility as a major feature of many highly regarded plays. Ionesco, in his Bald Soprano, indicates both by the irrelevancy of his play's title and by the repetitive no-sense of his dialogue that though his play may have meaning he is dedicated to the belief that that meaning shall not be achieved by intelligible devices. His meaning exists beneath the action and the dialogue and he faithfully, and successfully, shatters the normal, intelligible form of both so that the spectator is refused the possibility of deriving meaning by a rational or intelligible process. (p. 160)
The effect of such theatrical efforts was for some time, however, extremely tangential to the main line of theatre art and it is only recently that unintelligibility has come to be reckoned as a major force in modern drama. (p. 161)
Exciting and valuable as this foray into the unintelligible is, it is not this aspect of the modern theatre that demonstrates its greatest break with the past or its most striking contribution to a possible drama of the future. Such a contribution is rather to be seen in that branch of the modern theatre that may be said to concern itself with new...
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F. C. St. Aubyn
The critics have long since demonstrated that while Camus was not an existentialist, Sartrian or otherwise, there are nevertheless existential elements in his thought. I am not interested here in assessing how few or how many of his ideas are existential and certainly I have no intention of making of Camus an existentialist in the face of his own express statement to the contrary. Nor am I occupied by the unlikely problem of the possible influence of Sartre on Camus. I should like to show, however, how Sartre's ontology, which evolved simultaneously with the early writings of Camus, can be used to illuminate Camus's major literary works. (p. 124)
Obviously the various characters of Camus do not live and think in a static world or in the same emotional, geographical, chronological world. My point of departure is, therefore, the relationship between being-for-itself and the death of the other since it supplies us with the central idea necessary for a unifying interpretation…. This is not to say that Camus's plays and novels can be reduced to a single concept. Such an oversimplification would deny Camus's literary output one of its most significant aspects, its evolution. Nevertheless when Camus speaks in his essay 'Réflexions sur la guillotine,' a determined and passionate plea for the abolition of capital punishment … we realize that the rupture of … solidarity by the death of the other provides the primary impetus for the action...
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D. M. Church
When Le Malentendu was first produced at the Théâtre des Mathurins in 1944, it was not a complete success, but neither was it a complete failure. (p. 33)
The play has primarily been treated by critics in the most obvious way: that is, as a symbolic representation of certain of Camus's philosophical ideas. The more or less allegorical nature of Le Malentendu has been frequently discussed. However, the problem of the expression of these ideas has often been neglected. This is an unfortunate situation because the play is essentially a work of art. The metaphysical ideas contained in it have been fully discussed in a much more direct manner in the author's essays. Any examination of these ideas would naturally be more appropriate in a criticism of these essays; and consequently, the treatment of this play, along with any of his other plays or novels, should deal primarily with the problem of artistic expression.
This problem is closely related to the creation of a modern form of tragedy that greatly preoccupied Camus…. Since we are dealing with an author who manifests a lifelong passion for the theatre, this problem becomes extremely important in relation to his works as a whole. And since he seems to imply that man's tragic condition is essentially the same in all ages and that only the artistic expression varies, it is logical to assume that the major interest of Le Malentendu for present and...
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Les Justes is the third and last of his original plays which Camus considered to be attempts at modern tragedy (that is to say, together with Le Malentendu and L'Etat de siège, but excluding Caligula), and is frequently regarded as one of his most successful pieces of writing for the theater. Many accounts of the play appear to be based on an implicit acceptance of its claim to be a modern tragedy. The heroic, exalted atmosphere and the astringent dialogue and structure are admired, and epithets such as "truly Cornelian aura" provide the final accolade. But just as in Corneille's theater the border line between tragedy and tragicomedy is frequently in dispute, so in Les Justes the author's moral ardor can be sensed to be in such an uneasy relationship with his artistic judgment that an objective critic is roused to examine the play's claim to being tragedy. Is it indeed this so much as a play in an inferior genre: melodrama? (p. 78)
An examination of Les Justes as a modern tragedy according to the classic formula will … depend to a large extent on the degree to which the tragic antagonists are equally "just."
The other two principal prerequisites of tragedy which Camus stressed [in a lecture given at Athens in 1955] are particularly relevant to the political and philosophical subject matter of Les Justes. The first is a classical Greek concept which has also been...
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It was shortly after seeing a performance of Les Possédés during its provincial tour that Camus was killed. Those close to him believe that at this time he was just emerging from his long and difficult period of sterility and reappraisal—he is known to have been working hard on a novel, Le Premier Homme, for example. As far as the theatre is concerned, he confided to Germaine Brée in 1959 that he was toying with the idea of a play linking Don Juan-Sganarelle and Faust-Mephistopheles which he regarded as 'two aspects of the same dichotomy'. But it seems certain that no fragment of this or any other late work for the theatre by Camus exists…. Whether, once the Algerian War was over, and with his own theatre to work in amid the very different theatrical atmosphere of the 1960s, Camus would have gone on to produce a quantity of work of any significance makes interesting speculation, but is in the last resort doubtful. And so what finally is to be our assessment of the Camus whose last completely original work for the theatre was performed in 1949? Few critics, and even fewer theatre people, now believe that Camus's plays will enjoy the viability which seems assured for the work of dramatists such as Shaw, O'Casey, Pirandello, Brecht and Anouilh, although this stature appeared within Camus's grasp after the success of Les Justes. Two questions must be asked: to what extent has Camus succeeded in creating the modern tragedy with...
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