The Play
As the curtain rises on The Chairs, the audience is immediately struck by the play’s unusual setting: a sparsely furnished semicircular room, surrounded entirely by doors and windows, with two stools facing windows on opposite sides of the stage, two chairs at center stage, and a dais and blackboard centered downstage. The Old Man stands on one of the stools looking down at the water below as his wife, the Old Woman, Semiramis, lights a hanging gas lamp, which creates an eerie green glow. They live atop a tower completely surrounded by water. The play’s action begins as the Old Woman pulls the Old Man down from the stool, reminding him of some mysterious accident in the past. They move to the two chairs center stage, and he, childlike, sits in her lap.
They bemoan their isolated state and the lost opportunities of the past when he might have been a “head king, head journalist, or head general”; now he is only a “general factotum.” They reminisce about the past, before the city of Paris was extinguished—“four hundred thousand years ago.” To pass the time, they play games and tell stories. The Old Woman reminds her husband that this is the day he is to reveal his message to the world and that the guests are certain to arrive soon. Alternately they recite an absurd litany of the guests to come—“the janitors? the bishops? the chemists? the tinsmiths? the violinists? . . . the buildings? the pen holders? the chromosomes?” Their frenzy of excitement quickly turns to doubts and second thoughts, and they wish the whole event could be called off. It is too late, however, as the sound of the first arriving boat is heard.
Soon after the sound of a boat moving toward the tower is heard, the doorbell rings and the first of the “guests” arrives—a young lady. She, like all of the guests to follow, is invisible to the audience. The old couple, in pantomime, escort her in and seat her in one of the chairs at center stage. The Old Woman then goes out through one of the concealed side doors to get another chair, which she places by the others. The old couple chat idly to the guest about her journey and hint of the Old Man’s message, to be revealed this evening through the Orator, soon to arrive.
The sound of another boat arriving is followed by the ringing of the doorbell; the Old Man rushes to answer the door as the Old Woman goes for more chairs. The invisible Colonel now arrives to the accompaniment of a trumpet fanfare and is ceremoniously welcomed. The Old Woman curtsies as she places another chair next to that of the young woman. The old couple become upset by the Colonel’s lustful advances toward the young woman and warn him that her husband may soon arrive; they are shocked at this behavior from so august a presence. The sound of boats is heard again, as is the ringing of the doorbell; the Old Woman again rushes off for chairs as the Old Man greets the latest arrivals, “La Belle,” a former lover of the Old Man, and her husband, a photoengraver. Two more chairs are dragged in by the Old Woman and set up behind the first row. The Old Man reminisces with Belle about their lost love, the happiness they might have shared, and the children they might have had. Suddenly the Old Woman, inexplicably, reveals the deeply buried erotic side of her nature. She begins “simpering grotesquely,” raising her skirt, exposing her legs...
(This entire section contains 1441 words.)
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and breasts, and making obscene gestures to the photoengraver.
The bizarre behavior of the Old Woman is followed by an equally bizarre dialogue of contradictions between the old couple about familial relationships. She insists that they had one son who abandoned them because they killed birds; he insists that they never had any children at all. Contradictory also is their discussion concerning the Old Man’s mother. The Old Woman praises his loving care for her until her death; he guiltily admits that he left his poor mother to die in a ditch. The argument is interrupted by another ring of the doorbell. In pantomime the Old Man greets several more invisible guests, while the Old Woman begins to rearrange the chairs in preparation for the arrival of the Orator. She turns all the empty chairs around so that they now have their backs to the audience and then hurries off for more chairs. The Old Man’s greetings reveal that members of the press have arrived, including a cameraman, as have some children and a pair of twins.
From this point on, the ringing of the doorbell becomes increasingly frequent, and the action soon reaches a frenzied crescendo as both the ringing of the doorbell and the sound of boats arriving become almost constant. The sound effects become louder and louder, and the stage lighting becomes increasingly bright. The old couple repeatedly bump into each other in their flurry of greeting guests, seating them, and chaotically opening and closing doors to bring out more chairs. The Old Woman has arranged the chairs in regular rows facing downstage with the rows getting narrower as they get closer to the dais and blackboard in front.
The stage now resembles a theater, and the old couple begin selling invisible programs and refreshments to the invisible throng that pushes and shoves for seats. The crowd eventually forces the old couple to opposite sides of the stage. Each is now positioned by one of the stools under the windows at stage left and right. They shout at the audience to settle down and clear the aisles, reminding them that the Orator will soon arrive. Suddenly there is a loud fanfare offstage, and the large central door downstage opens with a great crash. A powerful light floods the stage. “It is the Emperor,” cries the Old Man in great astonishment.
The Old Man’s response to the Emperor fluctuates absurdly from his reciting of grandiloquent accolades to his making barking sounds to signify doglike fidelity. Then, as if in the confessional, he implores the Emperor’s forgiveness for myriad sins of the past. All the while the Old Woman echoes the final words her husband speaks. The liturgical nature of the scene culminates in the repeated antiphonal shouting by husband and wife of the words: “He will come. . . . He is coming,” referring to the Orator. The central door opens again, and the real and visible Orator appears; he greets the Emperor with a flourish of his hat, mounts the dais, and then mimes the signing and distributing of autographs.
The Old Man, thrilled by the Orator’s presence, gives thanks to all those who have figured in his life, “the technicians, the machinists, the electrocutioners,” even thanking the leftovers of humanity, since “with such leftovers one can make good soup.” Separated by the crowd of empty chairs, the Old Man and Old Woman have remained standing on their stools at opposite ends of the stage. They remain jubilant that the Old Man’s message to the world will finally be delivered; their purpose has been fulfilled and they can end their lives nobly, adding that they “may even have a street named after them.” Rejoicing, they fling confetti and streamers toward the Emperor, the Orator, and the empty chairs, with fireworks accompanying these gestures. They shout, “Long Live the Emperor,” and simultaneously throw themselves out the windows on either side of the stage.
The Orator, dressed in the flamboyant garb of a typical nineteenth century painter or poet, steps forward to speak. He utters the unintelligible noises and guttural sounds of a deaf-mute. Seeing the blackboard behind him, he is struck by an idea, and he turns to write “the message.” He writes “ANGEL FOOD . . . NNAA NNM NWNWNW V” and makes more guttural sounds. Seemingly unhappy with what he has written, he erases the words and now writes the letters: “ADIEU DIEU P.” He again indicates to the crowd what he has written, senses their disappointment, waits an awkward moment, then bows to the crowd and exits “like a ghost” through the main door, which is now cast in darkness.
The closing effect of the play is striking; suddenly the human noises of the invisible audience are heard. There are sounds of nervous laughter and coughing, whispers and murmurs; these sound effects grow louder and then slowly diminish. The stage directions indicate that this must last long enough to make a strong impression on the audience, until finally “the curtain falls very slowly.”
Dramatic Devices
The paradoxical subtitle of The Chairs—“A Tragic Farce”—is the key to an understanding of the nature of its staging. The tragic vision of the work is presented through broadly farcical actions, exaggerated gestures, absurd pantomines, and flamboyant theatrical business. There are elements of Grand Guignol, silent comedy, and the physicality of the Punch and Judy puppet shows that Ionesco enjoyed as a young child in Paris. Ionesco insisted that everything about the staging of his work be excessive and exaggerated. The acting styles of the visible characters should fluctuate from naturalism to stylization, from low comedy to the grand style of opera or high poetic tragedy. The overall effect should be to unsettle the viewer, to create anxiety, and occasionally to shock.
Ionesco’s stagecraft is extremely physical; ideas are concretized in physical objects, lighting, and sound effects. The device of the chairs is central to the farcical nature of the play. The repetition of the Old Woman rushing out through one door and reemerging with chairs through another becomes increasingly amusing, and the comic effect is heightened by the careful pacing and accelerating tempo of the action. The proliferation of objects on the stage makes the old couple’s movements increasingly difficult, and comic effects multiply as they pantomime tripping over chairs, knocking over chairs with invisible occupants, and bumping into “guests” and each other. The chairs, both as an image and as physical props, are central to the tragedy/farce paradox of the play; while they are responsible for much of the comic business of the play, they are also responsible for the separation of the old couple at the mock tragic moment of their double suicide.
Sound and lighting effects are equally important to the staging of the work. The offstage sound effects of arriving boats and the subsequent ringings of the doorbell, increasing in both tempo and volume, turn the old couple into automatons instinctively responding to stimuli. The combination of the real sound effects with the entrance of invisible guests, as well as the audible noises of the invisible audience at the end of the play, is central to the play’s paradoxical view of the real and unreal. The lighting pattern for the play, which begins with only the eerie green glow of a gas lamp and then slowly intensifies to a near-blinding light at the entrance of the Emperor, works in two significant ways. First, since the play has begun at six in the evening and light comes in from the surrounding windows and doors, the increased light is contradictory to the natural darkening of evening. Second, and more important, the brightening light suggests a movement toward revelation in the Orator’s message, but there is no revelation, no illumination—the increasing light has been another false signal. During the last moments of the play, the light dims again to the eerie glow seen at the beginning. The empty stage and empty chairs strewn with confetti and streamers express the waste and absence of nothingness.
Places Discussed
Tower
Tower. Structure in the middle of a circular island surrounded by a stagnant sea in which an Old Man and an Old Woman live. Eugène Ionesco describes this, the play’s setting, in meticulous detail; it is half of a circular room with basically symmetrical windows and doors. The play’s initial dialogue indicates that the room is above a vast expanse of water. Two unusual but real people appear and soon there are real chairs on stage, along with realistic sound effects from outside the tower. However, the increasingly bizarre dialogue soon claims that the action takes place in an unbelievably futuristic setting 400,000 years after the destruction of Paris. When guests arrive from the outside world—accompanied by realistic sound effects of boats and doorbells—they are invisible. Strangely, after dozens of chairs are added to accommodate the invisible guests, the room begins to seem realistically crowded and theaterlike, and the play’s real audience seems to become an extension of the fictional audience on stage. It is a surprise when the long-awaited orator is not invisible and even more surprising when the orator is a deaf-mute incapable of communicating the main character’s important message to the world. However, the most chilling effect is saved for last. After the stage turns to darkness, but before the final curtain falls, the invisible audience makes laughing, murmuring, and coughing sounds, just like a real audience. The imaginary stage audience is thus drawn into the bizarre fictional world, making imaginary and real and certain and uncertain difficult to discern.
Historical Context
In 1952, France was still recuperating from the devastating effects of World War II, which had concluded less than a decade earlier. The nation faced ongoing political, social, and economic uncertainty.
During the German occupation in World War II, Germany had exploited much of France’s raw materials and food supplies, and severely disrupted its transportation network. French citizens also experienced severe restrictions on their civil liberties.
Post-war, numerous reforms were introduced, including the establishment of a social security system.
Political instability contributed to France's uncertainty. For instance, in 1952, France saw three different leaders: Rene Pleven, Edgar Faure, and Antoine Pinay. Economic challenges such as high inflation, a rising cost-of-living index, and tax hikes were prevalent. To combat inflation, the government urged retailers to reduce prices.
Although industrial production increased significantly in 1952, it wasn't until the mid-1950s that U.S. foreign aid began to spur new growth. France also struggled with transitioning from a solely private economy, driven by independent businesses, to a deficit-ridden public economy where the government managed certain industries.
France’s economic woes were exacerbated by its involvement in the Korean War (as part of the United Nations) and in Vietnam, where it still had colonial interests.
Following World War II, Ho Chi Minh, a communist, took control of half of Vietnam. This led to a conflict, but France’s weak economic state limited its ability to intervene effectively. By the mid-1950s, Vietnam was divided into two halves.
Literary Style
Setting
The Chairs is described by Ionesco as a "tragic farce," set on an isolated island. The play is not confined to a specific time or place.
All the events in The Chairs unfold within a circular or semi-circular room. Key features of this room include a window overlooking the sea and eight doorways along the wall.
The window serves as a focal point for the play's action. At the beginning of The Chairs, the Old Man is seen leaning far out the window. By the conclusion, both the Old Man and the Old Woman have taken their lives by jumping out of it.
Irony
The Chairs is rich with irony, where the intended meaning often contrasts with the actual meaning. This irony enhances the play's absurd tone. The Old Man has an important message to share with the world, yet all his guests are invisible. He hires an Orator to convey his message, but the Orator is deaf and mute, making communication impossible. These ironic elements highlight the play’s central themes.
Sound Effects
Although the guests in The Chairs are invisible, sound effects are crucial in suggesting their presence. The sound of boats signals the arrival of guests, while the noise of waves emphasizes the island's isolation. A doorbell rings to indicate guest arrivals.
Specific sound effects hint at the type of guest arriving. For instance, a trumpet sounds when the Colonel appears, and crashing noises mark the Emperor's entrance. Additionally, stomping feet are heard when the Old Man and Old Woman announce the Emperor. When the elderly couple jumps out of the window, the sound of their bodies hitting the water is audible.
After the Orator exits, frustrated by his inability to communicate, the stage remains empty, but the audience hears the murmur of a large crowd. These sound effects accentuate the absurdity of The Chairs.
Lighting
Lighting plays a significant role in The Chairs. In the opening scene, the Old Woman lights a lamp that emits a green glow. The Emperor's arrival is heralded by a powerful light. After the couple commits suicide, the lights dim.
Compare and Contrast
1952: Television has become extremely popular, with 42% of American households owning a TV set. In the U.S., color television makes its debut, and there are four major networks.
Today: Almost every American home has at least one television. With the rise of cable and satellite TV, hundreds of networks are accessible. Public access programming allows the average person to engage with the television medium.
1952: Many countries impose restrictions on media and their ability to collect information.
Today: The Internet and cable television have revolutionized the way people worldwide receive news and information.
1952: Although the American economy is robust, numerous countries, including France, are experiencing severe inflation and weak economies.
Today: The American economy remains strong, but many other countries, particularly in Asia, are facing economic downturns.
Bibliography and Further Reading
SOURCES
Cohn, Ruby. From Desire to Godot: Pocket Theater of Postwar Paris, University of California Press, 1987, pp. 122-33.
Clurman, Harold. A review of The Chairs in The Nation, July 6, 1957, pp. 186-93.
Hewes, Henry. ‘‘‘Sanity’ Observed,’’ in Saturday Review of Literature, January 26, 1958, p. 26.
Ionesco, Eugène. Four Plays by Eugène Ionesco, Grove, 1958, pp. 111-60.
———. Notes and Counter Notes: Writing on the Theatre, translated by Donald Watson, Grove, 1964, pp. 17-18.
Kanfer, Stefan. A review in The New Leader, April 6, 1998, p. 23.
Lamont, Rosette C. Ionesco’s Imperatives: The Politics of Culture, The University of Michigan Press, 1993, pp. 69-70.
Lewis, Allan. Ionesco, Twayne Publishers, 1972, pp. 40-2.
A review in Newsweek, January 20, 1958, p. 84.
Simon, John. ‘‘Lost Will and Testament,’’ in New York, April 20, 1998, pp. 64-5.
Tahourdin, Adrian. ‘‘Sitting Uncomfortably,’’ in TLS, December 5, 1997, p. 25.
A review in Time, January 20, 1958, p. 42.
FURTHER READING
Coutin, Andre and Rosette C. Lamont. ‘‘Culture Dreams: A Conversation,’’ in Grand Street, Summer, 1998, pp. 166-75. An interview with Eugène Ionesco.
Dolamore, C. E. J. ‘‘Adam at Odds with Eve: Ionesco and the Woman’s Mission,’’ in Journal of European Studies, December 1993, pp. 409-26. Discusses female characters in Ionesco’s plays, including The Chairs.
Gaensbauer, Deborah B. Eugène Ionesco Revisited, Twayne/Prentice Hall, 1996, 177 pages. A biographical and critical study.
Ionesco, Eugène. Present Past/Past Present: A Personal Memoir, translated by Helen Lane, Grove, 1971, 192 pages. Autobiography of Eugène Ionesco.
Lamont, Rosette C. and Melvin J. Friedman, eds. The Two Faces of Ionesco, Whitston Publishing Company, 1978, 283 pages. This essay collection features original writings by Ionesco and critiques of his work.
Bibliography
Coe, Richard N. Ionesco: A Study of His Plays. Rev. ed. London: Methuen, 1971. Presents a careful study of The Chairs, offering information about the early productions of this work and discussing how confused and delighted critics were by this cryptic play.
Cohn, Ruby. From “Desire” to “Godot”: Pocket Theater of Postwar Paris. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1989. Has a chapter devoted to the first production of The Chairs, with much informative material about what the play means and has meant to those who have seen it. Provides a very solid discussion of how one might respond to this perplexing masterpiece.
Dobrez, L. A. C. The Existential and Its Exits: Literary and Philosophical Perspectives on the Works of Beckett, Ionesco, Genet, and Pinter. New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1986. Explores some of the possibilities of what is one of Ionesco’s best pieces.
Esslin, Martin. The Theatre of the Absurd. 3d ed. London: Methuen, 2001. Long before other critics had a clue about what Ionesco’s plays might mean, Esslin had placed Ionesco in a group with other writers, whom he called “absurdists.” Esslin delivers an often moving interpretation of The Chairs and how Ionesco came to write it.
Gassner, John. Theatre at the Crossroads: Plays and Playwrights of the Mid-Century American Stage. New York: Holt, Rinehart, and Winston, 1960.
Guicharnaud, Jacques. Modern French Theatre: From Giraudoux to Genet. New Haven, Conn.: Yale University Press, 1967. The chapter on Ionesco and his work uses The Chairs as a centerpiece. Long an admirer of the absurdist playwright, Guicharnaud looks into the texts of Ionesco’s one-act dramas and finds much to explain.
Ionesco, Eugène. Present Past, Past Present: A Personal Memoir. Cambridge, England: Da Capo, 1998.
Kluback, William, and Michael Finkenthal. The Clown in the Agora: Conversations About Eugène Ionesco. New York: Lang, 1998.
Lahr, John. Review of The Chairs. The New Yorker 74 (April 13, 1998): 78-80.