Much has been made of October 2021 as the 100th anniversary of the birth of one famous French Georges, the singer Brassens. But June 2021 was also the 100th anniversary of the death of another famous French Georges, the playwright Georges Feydeau. Feydeau is widely considered the master of French vaudeville, a theater genre we could call “farce” in English (note that this is different from the American “vaudeville show”, which is more a mix of variety acts and short slapstick sketches).
French vaudeville is full of licentious gentlemen, sexually harassed servants, unfaithful wives, and cuckold husbands. There are secret lovers stuffed in closets, hidden under beds or tucked behind drapes. The dialog is witty, double entendres abound, and mistaken meanings («quiproquos») lead to comedy gold. Most of all there is non-stop motion, a frenzy of perfectly timed entrances and exits («portes qui claquent»). The canonical line from a Feydeau vaudeville show is «Ciel, mon mari!», declared by an adulterous woman who has just discovered her husband is about enter the scene where she is entertaining a lover. English language works like “Charlie’s Aunt” or “Noises Off” are direct cultural descendants of vaudeville as elaborated by Feydeau. And of course Feydeau’s work owes much to Molière’s comedy and to commedia dell arte before that.
Feydeau enjoyed great success in the Paris theaters for over 30 years. He started writing plays in 1882, debuting his first smash hit Tailleur pour dames in 1886. He continued delivering money-makers for decades, titles like Monsieur chasse!, Champignol malgré lui, Le Dindon, La Puce à l’oreille and Je ne trompe pas mon mari! Feydeau had penned over 40 plays when his final play, Hortense a dit : « Je m’en fous ! », was produced in 1916. Sometime afterward he contracted syphilis. Feydeau spent the last two years of his life in a sanatorium in Rueil-Malmaison, a suburban community west of Paris, where he routinely experienced megalomania, paranoia, and hallucinations according to reports. He was just 58 years old when he died in 1921.
It is this final period of Feydeau’s life that modern authors Thierry Barbeau and Pierre Berriau have taken as their focus for their play Feydeau, Chambre 21. We follow the ailing and addled Feydeau through his delirium and hallucinations as his experience of life plays out in a fantasia of clever banter and hat tips to his greatest works. All of this is superimposed on early 20th century mental hospital treatments, with a healthy dose of fourth-wall breaking to boot. In addition to airing the story of his sad demise, the play is an homage to Feydeau’s style of vaudeville with super witty dialogue and carefully choreographed traffic patterns.
Many actors explicitly play two characters, a common device which the audience is ready to accept until Feydeau-the-character sees through it and calls it out. The other characters have no idea what Feydeau is talking about and treat this as another symptom of his madness. Feydeau nonetheless coaches them on how to be a better character in a Feydeau play, e.g. teaching them to use theatrical asides properly. Some characters are delighted that they can say whatever they like, safe in the knowledge that they won’t be heard, while others protest that they can hear the offending remarks loud and clear.
Here’s an example of the sort of self-awareness that suffuses the whole script:
Scène 5 Feydeau et Adélaïde (fille de Fouquart) sous les draps d'un lit. Des ébats amoureux. Fouquart entre en trombe dans la chambre. FOUQUART: Ma femme, Gabrielle, elle a disparu! FEYDEAU: Quoi? Mais qu'est-ce ... FOUQUART: Où est ma femme, Feydeau? Elle est là, n'est-ce pas? FEYDEAU: Mais je ne sais pas. FOUQUART: Mais si, elle est là, je la sens. (Montrant furieusement le lit dans lequel se trouve Adélaïde.) Ce lit! Il y a quelqu'un à l'intérieur. FEYDEAU: Mais non, il n'y a personne. FOUQUART: Enfin, Feydeau, vous n'allez pas voir vos pièces? Quand quelqu'un dit qu'il n'y a personne dans le lit, c'est qu'il y a quelqu'un. FEYDEAU: Mais je vous assure que non. C'est un lit vide. FOUQUART: Un lit vide? Depuis quand y a-t-il des lit vides dans les vaudevilles, ils ne sont jamais vides, croyez-moi, il y a toujours quelqu'un dedans. Et je vais vous le prouver. FEYDEAU: Mais je vous interdis! Pour qui vous prenez-vous, Fouquart? FOUQUART: Pour le cocu, monsieur, le cocu. Vous savez très bien ce que c'est un cocu, Feydeau, non? Il faut toujours un cocu dans l'histoire et aujourd'hui, le cocu, c'est moi. (En direction du lit.) Gabrielle, c'est toi mon bébé? FEYDEAU: (s'interposant) Je suis chez moi! C'est ma chambre, c'est mon lit. FOUQUART: Alors mon ami, d'un, le cocu est cocu mais il a des droits que les autres n'ont pas. Et de deux, (désignant le lit) je vous affirme qu'il ya quelqu'un ici. FEYDEAU: Mais non, je vous dis «personne». FOUQUART: Il y a quelqu'un. (Il va au lit, soulève les draps, il n'y a personne. La comédienne est passée par une trappe.) Ah non, personne. FEYDEAU: Ah bon? FOUQUART: J'aurais pourtant juré que ...
Scene 5 Feydeau and Adélaïde (Fouquart's daughter) are under the sheets of a bed, making love. Fouquart bursts into the room. FOUQUART: My wife, Gabrielle, she's disappeared! FEYDEAU: What? But what ... FOUQUART: Where is my wife, Feydeau? She's there, isn't she? FEYDEAU: Well, I don't know. FOUQUART: Oh yes, she's in there, I smell her. (Gesticulating furiously at the bed where Adélaïde is.) This bed! There's someone inside. FEYDEAU: No, really, there's nobody. FOUQUART: Come on, Feydeau, don't you go to your own plays? When somebody says there's no one in the bed, there's someone in the bed. FEYDEAU: But I swear to you, there's no one. It's an empty bed. FOUQUART: An empty bed? Since when are there empty beds in vaudeville? They are never empty, believe me, there's always somebody inside. And I'm going to prove it. FEYDEAU: Wait, I forbid it! Just who do you think you are, Fouquart? FOUQUART: I'm the cheated husband, sir, the cuckold. You know full well what a "cuckold" is, don't you Feydeau? There's always got to be a cuckold in the story and today, that's me. "Mr. Cuckold." (Turning to the bed) Gabrielle, is that you baby? FEYDEAU: (jumping between them) But we're at my place! This is my bedroom, that's my bed. FOUQUART: Well my friend, in the first place, Mr. Cuckold may be cuckold but he gets some rights that nobody else has. And in the second, (pointing at the bed) I'm telling you there's someone in there. FEYDEAU: And I'm telling you "no one". FOUQUART: There is somebody! (He goes to the bed, lifts up the sheets, but it is empty. The actress has exited via trap door). Huh, nobody. FEYDEAU: Oh, really? FOUQUART: But I could have sworn ...
Broad humor, no doubt.
One noteworthy element of the play, possibly standard in Feydeau’s vaudeville, is the foreigner who speaks French with a ridiculous accent (now that I’ve written that, the play “The Foreigner” comes to mind – another show that owes a debt to Feydeau). In this show it’s Le Général-Docteur Azacassasse, a medical quack from Latin America. This bit is far harder to translate, as the phonetic word play doesn’t work outside of French, but the joke is that Azacassasse says «sisse» when he wishes to say «si», which to him is an all purpose “yes”. But the word «sisse» also sounds like «six» (the number 6), while the word «aussi» (meaning “also”) becomes «aussisse», and the phrase “6 also” («six aussi») becomes «sisse aussisse» in the mangled accent, which with elision sounds like «six saucisses» = “six sausages”.
I’ve tried to translate it on the right, taking liberties to preserve some semblance of the wordplay, but it doesn’t really capture the naturalness of the original.
FEYDEAU: Quoi, quoi, «lé ké vou losse»? Ici, il faut parler français. AZACASSASSE: Ah, sisse? FEYDEAU: Mais parfaitement. En France, on parle français. Sinon, on ne comprend rien du tout. Vous, c'est quoi votre langue? AZACASSASSE: L'ouroulouguaille. FEYDEAU: Ah! bon! eh bien, voilà, chacun sa langue chez soi. AZACASSASSE: Sisse, ma bien sisse! FEYDEAU: Ceci dit, je ne suis même pas certain que vous compreniez tout ce que vous êtes en train de dire. AZACASSASSE: Euh... Nosse, pa to. FEYDEAU: Ah! vous voyez! AZACASSASSE: Sisse, y'avousse. FEYDEAU: Le plus étrange, tout de même, c'est que vous compreniez parfaitement le français que je vous parle. AZACASSASSE: Ah, ma tresse bienne, tresse bienne. FEYDEAU: Il y a quand même un petit problème, non? AZACASSASSE: Ah, sisse, problème? FEYDEAU: No, pas six problèmes, on vous dit qu'il y a un petit problème, un seul. AZACASSASSE: Sisse, yé dis sisse. FEYDEAU: Oui, mais nous, on dit «un». AZACASSASSE: Sisse, oune. FEYDEAU: (comprenant) Ah! «sisse» ça veut dire «un» pour vous. AZACASSASSE: Nosse, sisse é sisse. FEYDEAU: Quoi, «sisse et sisse», six et six, douze. FOUQUART: Bon, Feydeau, le général-docteur n'est pas là pour faire des additions. FEYDEAU: (comprenant) Ah! «sisse», ça veut dire «oui». AZACASSASSE: Sisse! FEYDEAU: Mais comment dites-vous «six» alors? Le nombre six? AZACASSASSE: Euh... Sisse aussisse. FEYDEAU: Ah, vous dites «six saucisses»? AZACASSASSE: Sisse. Sisse aussisse. FEYDEAU: Comment voulez-vous qu'on s'y retrouve si vous dites aussi «sisse aussisse» AZACASSASSE: Sisse, cé pas no kaille. FEYDEAU: Ah, c'est le moins qu'on puisse dire, c'est «pas no cailles» du tout. GABRIELLE: Pour être honnête, c'est vrai qu'on ne comprend pas tout.
FEYDEAU: What's with, «lé ké vou losse»? You must speak french here. AZACASSASSE: Ah, sisse? FEYDEAU: Why of course. In France, you speak French. Otherwise, no one will understand you at all. Say, what's your language? AZACASSASSE: Ouroulouguaille. FEYDEAU: Ah! Good! Well, there you are, when we're in your country, we can speak that. AZACASSASSE: Sisse, berry good, sisse! FEYDEAU: You know, I'm not really sure you understand all the things you're saying. AZACASSASSE: Euh... Nosse, not all. FEYDEAU: Ah! there, you see! AZACASSASSE: Sisse, I sees. FEYDEAU: The weirdest thing, though, is that you understand perfectly when I speak to you in French. AZACASSASSE: Ah, me berry well, berry well. FEYDEAU: But we still have a small problem, right? AZACASSASSE: Ah, sisse, problem? FEYDEAU: No, not six problems. I said that there's a small problem, just one. AZACASSASSE: Sisse, I's says sisse. FEYDEAU: Right, but we, we say "one". AZACASSASSE: Sisse, woon. FEYDEAU: (understanding) Ah! «sisse» for you means "one" for us. AZACASSASSE: Nosse, sisse eez sisse. FEYDEAU: What, «sisse eez sisse», six and six is twelve. FOUQUART: Look, Feydeau, the Doctor General is not here to do arithmetic. FEYDEAU: (comprehension dawning) Ah! «sisse», that means "yes". AZACASSASSE: Sisse! FEYDEAU: But how do you say «six» then? The number six? AZACASSASSE: Euh... Sisse too. FEYDEAU: Ah, you say «six two»? AZACASSASSE: Sisse. Sisse oh sisse. FEYDEAU: What's a guy supposed to do if he has to say «cease see-sawing at seez oh seez"? AZACASSASSE: Sisse, tha's nosse eezy. FEYDEAU: You can say that again. Not easy-peasy in the least. GABRIELLE: To tell you the truth, even I don't understand what he's saying.
In the end, I’m not a big fan of this play. It has some hilarious, laugh-out-loud scenes, but the concept is not executed all that well. It mostly feels like someone wanted to show off how well they can write Feydeau-style farces, and was taken with the idea of what a manic, drugged out Feydeau must have been like. But I had a hard time getting past the bit about syphilis being a horrible way to die, and how being that disoriented would probably feel pretty scary. I expect it works better as a live spectacle than as a written text to be read. But I’m quite sure that in a live performance with lines delivered at full speed I would have been totally lost.
Feydeau, Chambre 21 was created for the 2021-2022 theater season. Rehearsal photos were taken at Théâtre de la Tour Eiffel, but I’m not sure they have a Paris production nailed down yet. The show poster is for some sort of filmed version maybe? Or a staged version in Nantes? I’m not clear. Either way, I think I’ll content myself with having read the script and move on.
