The Bald Soprano

I was overjoyed when an RA said his favorite book, well a play… (he is a theatre major), was The Bald Soprano by Eugene Ionesco.  Ionesco is a French author known in the theatre of the absurd.  The play is set in England and notes a French author’s view on “British life.”  Why was I so happy?  I directed and starred in this play numerous times when I was in college.  Ah, to be in the theatre again…. back to the play… imagine being invited to a dinner party with the Smiths, you and your wife (Mr. & Mrs. Martin) arrive and have trivial conversation, notice that the fire chief, who happens to drop in, is having an affair with the Smiths’ maid and all of this as discussion occurs, but much of it doesn’t seem to make sense… and sometimes the characters speak as if they were complete strangers (A reflection on the time? And also a commentary on a French writer on English couples).  Near the end of the dialogue when the fire chief leaves the scene he notes “the bald soprano” and the characters freeze leaving them into some sense of anxiety shouting: “it’s not that way, it’s over here” over and over again, light’s out and this time when the lights turn on, The Martins take the place of the Smiths and recite their dialogue, indicating a repetition of life repeating itself.  So what does it all mean?  Or should it mean anything at all?  Ionesco shares his thoughts in some essays but even he leaves the audience unsure of its meaning.  Does it need to have a meaning?  That’s what is so great with the theatre of the absurd, it’s like walking into a room of strangers, watching them, leaving and entering another moment in time for another group of strangers.  Isn’t human nature in itself bizarre and unpredictable?  Maybe it should be called realism?  Ah Ionesco, so good for our lifetime.  I could read it over and over again… as I think that is what he hopes we do.  There is more in this one, or not, than we can understand.