The Theater

and Its Double

By Antonin Artaud

Translated from the French

by Mary Caroline Richards

�
GROVE WEIDENFELD NEW YORK
 Copyright © 1958 by Grove Press, Inc.

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Library of Congress Catalog Card Number 58-9910

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Manufactured in the United States of America

Printed on acid-free paper

First Evergreen Edition 1958

30
 VI I I . The Theater of Cruelty (Fi rst Ma nifesto)

We cannot go on prostituting the idea of theater whose only

value is in its excruciating, magical relation to reality and
danger.

Put in this way, the question of the theater ought to arouse

general attention, the implication being that theater, through
its physical aspect, since it requires expression in space ( the
only real expression, in fact ) , allows the magical means of
art and speech to be exercised organically and altogether, like
renewed exorcisms . The upshot of all this is that theater will
not be given its specific powers of action until it is given its
language.
That is to say : instead of continuing to rely upon texts
considered definitive and sacred, it is essential to put an end
to the subj ugation of the theater to the text, and to recover
the notion of a kind of unique language half-way between
gesture and thought.
This language cannot be defined except by its possibilities
for dynamic expression in space as opposed to the expressive
possibilities of spoken dialogue. And what the theater can
still take over from speech are its possibilities for extension
beyond words , for development in space, for dissociative and
vibratory action upon the sensibility . This is the hour of

89
90 The Theater and Its Double
intonations, of a word's particular pronunciation. Here too
intervenes ( besides the auditory language of sounds ) the
visual language of objects, movements , attitudes, and gestures,
but on condition that theu meanings, their physiognomies,
their combinations be carried to the point of becoming signs,
making a kind of alphabet out of these signs. Once aware of
this language in space, language of sounds , cries , lights,
onom atopoeia, the theater must organize it into veritable
hieroglyphs , with the help of ch aracters and objects, and make
use of their symbolism and interconnections in relation to all
organs and on all levels .
The questbn, then , for the theater, is [Q create a meta­
physics of speech, gesture, and expression, in order to rescue
it from its servitude to psychology and "human interest." But
all this can be of no use unless behind such an effort there i!'
some kind of real metaphysical inclination, an appeal to
certain unhabitual ideas, which by their very nature cannot
be limited or even formally depicted . These ideas which
touch on Creation, Becoming, and Chaos , are all of a cosmic
order and furnish a primary notion of a domain from which
the theater i s now entirely alien. They are able to create a
kind of passionate equation between M an, Society, Nature,
and Objects.
It is not, moreover , a question of bringing metaphysical
ideas directly onto the stage, but of creating what you might
call temptations , indraughts of air around these ideas. And
humor with its anarchy, poetry with its symbolism and its
images, furnish a basic notion of ways to channel the tempta­
tion of these ideas .
We must speak now about the uniquely material side of
this language-that is, about all the ways and means it has
of acting upon the sensibility .
It would be meaningless to say that it includes music,
dance, pantomime, or mimicry. Obviously it uses movement,
ANTONIN ARTAUD 91
harmonies, rhythms, but only to the point that they can con­
cur in a sort of central expression without advantage for any
one particular art. This does not at all mean that it does not
use ordinary actions, ordinary passions, but like a spring­
board uses them in the same way that HUMOR AS DESTRUC­

TION can serve to reconcile the corrosive nature of laughter

to the habits of reason.
But by an altogether Oriental means of expression, th is
objective and concrete language of the theater can fascinate
and ensnare the o rgans . It flows into the sensibility. Aban­
doning Occidental usages of speech, it turns words into in­
cantations. It extends the voice. It utilizes the vibrations and
qualities of the voice. It wildly tramples rhythms underfoot.
It pile-drives sounds . It seeks to exalt, to benumb, to c harm ,
to arrest the sensibility. It liberates a new lyricism of gesture
which, by its precipitation or its amplitude in the air, ends by
surpassing the lyricism of words . It ultim ately breaks away
from the intellectual subj ugation of the language, by convey­
ing the sense of a new and deeper intellectuality which hides
itself beneath the gestures and signs, raised to the dignity of
particular exorcisms .
For all this magnetism, all this poetry, and all these direct
means of spellbinding would be nothing if they were not used
to put the spirit physically on the track of something else,
if the true theater could not g ive us the sense of a creation
of which we possess only one face, but which is completed
on other levels.
And it is of little importance whether these other levels
are really conquered by the mind or not, i.e .. by the intelli­
gence ; it would diminish them , and that has neither interest
nor sense. What is important is that. by positive means. the
sensitivity is put in a state of deepened and keener perception.
and this is the very object of the magic and the rites of which
the theater i s only a reflectio n .
92 The Theater and Its Double

TECHNIQUE

It is a question then of making the theater, in the proper

sense of the word, a function ; someth ing as local ized and as
precise as the circulation of the blood in the arteries or the
apparently chaotic development of dream images in the brain,
and this is to be accomplished by a thorough involvement, a
genuine enslavement of the attention .
The theater will never find itsel f again-i . e . , constitute a
means of true illusio n--except by furnishing the spectator
with the truthful p recipitates of dreams, in which his taste
for crime, his erotic obsessions, his savagery, his chimeras,
his utopian sense of life and m atter, even his cannibalism,
pour out, on a level not counterfeit and illusory, but interior.
In other terms, the theater must pursue by all its means a
reassertion not only of all the aspects of the objective and
descriptive external world , but ot the internal world, that is,
of man considered metaphysical ly. It is only th us, we believe,
that we shall be able to speak again in the theater about the
rights of the imagination . Neither humor, nor poetry, nor
imagination means anything unless, by a n anarchistic destruc­
tion generating a prodigious flight of form s which will consti­
tute the whole spectacle, they succeed in organically re­
involving man, his ideas about reality, and his poetic place
in reality.
To consider the theater as a second-hand psychological or
moral function, and to believe that dreams themselves have
only a substitute function, is to diminish the profound poetic
bearing of dreams as well as of the theater. If the theater, like
dreams, is bloody and inhuman, it is, more than just that, to
manifest and unforgettably root within us the idea of a per­
petual conflict, a spasm in which life is continually lacerated,
in which everything in creation rises up and exerts itself
against our appointed rank ; it is i n order t o perpetuate in a
concrete and immediate way the metaphysical ideas of certain
ANTONIN ARTAUD 93

Fables whose very atrocity a n d energy suffice t o show their

origin and continuity in essential principles.
This being so, one sees that, by its proximity to principles
which transfer their energy to it poetically, this naked lan­
guage of the theater ( not a virtual but a real language) must
permit, by its use of man's nervous m agnetism, the transgres­
sion of the ordinary limits of art and speech, in order to
realize acttvely, that is to say magically, in real terms, a kind
of total creation in which man must reassume his place
between dream and events .

THE THEMES

It is not a m atter of boring the public to death with tran­

scendent cosmic preoccupations. That there may be profound
keys to thought and action with which to interpret the whole
spectacle, does not in general concern the spectator, who is
simply not interested. But still they must be there ; and that
concerns us .

THE SPE CTACLE : Every spectacle will contain a physical

and objective element, perceptible to all. Cries, groans, appa­
ritions, surprises, theatricalities of all kinds, magic beauty of
costumes taken from certain ritual models; resplendent light­
ing, incantational beauty of voices, the charms of harmony,
rare notes of m usic, colors of objects, physical rhythm of
movements whose crescendo and decrescendo will accord
exactly with the pulsation of movements familiar to everyone,
concrete appearances of new and surprising objects, masks,
effigies yards h igh, sudden changes of light, the physical action
of light wh ich arouses sensations of heat and cold, etc .
THE MISE EN SCENE : The typical language of the theater
will be constituted around the mise en scene considered not
 The Theater and Its Double

simply as the degree of refraction of a text upon the stage, but

as the point of departure for all theatrical creation. A nd it is
in the use and handling of this language that the old duality
between author and director will be dissolved, replaced by
a sort of unique Creator upon whom will devolve the double
responsibility of the spectacle and the plot.
THE LANGUAGE OF THE STAGE : It is not a question of
suppressing the spoken language, but of giving words approxi­
mately the importance they have in dreams.
Meanwhile new means of recording th is language must be
found, whether these means belong to m usical transcription
or to some kind of code.
As for ordinary objects, or even the human body, raised
to the dignity of signs, it is evident that one can draw one's
inspiration from hieroglyphic characters, not only in order
to record these signs in a readable fashion which permits
them to be, reproduced at will, but in order to compose on the
stage precise and immediately readable sy mbols.
On the other hand, th is code language and m usical trans­
cription will be valuable as a means of transcribing voices.
Since it is fundamental to this language to make a particu­
lar use of intonations, these intonations will constitute a kind
of harmonic balance, a secondary deformation of speech
which m ust be reproducible at will.
Similarly the ten thousand and one expressions of the face
caught in the form of masks can be labeled and catalogued,
so they may eventually participate directly and symbolically
in this concrete language of the stage, independently of their
particular psychological use.
Moreover, these symbolical gestures, masks, and attitudes,
these individual or group movements whose innumerable
meanings constitute an important part of the concrete lan­
guage of the theater, evoc�tive gestures, emotive or arbitrary
attitudes, excited pounding out of rhythms and sounds, will
be doubled, will be multiplied by reflections, as it were, of
ANTONIN ARTAUD 95
the gestures and attitudes consisting of the mass of all the
impulsive gestures, all the abortive attitudes, all the lapses
of mind and tongue, by which are revealed what might be
called the impotences of speech, and in which is a prodigious
wealth of expressions, to which we shall not fail to have re­
course on occasion.
There is, besides, a concrete idea of music in which the
sounds make their entrance like characters, where harmonies
are coupled together and lose themselves in the precise en­
trances of words.
From one means of expression to another, correspondences
and levels of development are created-even light can have
a precise intellectual meaning.
MUSICAL INSTRUMENTS : They will be treated as objects
and as part of the set.
A lso, the need to act directly and profoundly upon the
sensibility through the organs invites research, from the point
of view of sound, into qualities and vibrations of absolutely
new sounds, qualities which present-day musical instruments
do not possess and which require the revival of ancient and
forgotten instruments or the invention of new ones. Research
is also required, apart from music, into instruments and
appliances which, based upon special combinations or new
alloys of metal, can attain a new range and compass, pro­
ducing sounds or noises that are unbearably piercing.
LIGHTS, LIGHTING : The lighting equipment now in use in
theaters is no longer adequate. The particular action of light
upon the mind, the effects of all kinds of luminous vibration
must be investigated, along with new ways of spreading the
light in waves, in sheets, in fusillades of fiery arrows. The
color gamut of the equipment now in use is to be revised
from beginning to end. In order to produce the qualities of
particular musical tones, light must recover an element of
thinness, density, and opaqueness, with a view to producing
the sensations of heat, cold, anger, fear, etc.
96 The Theater and Its Double
COSTUMES : Where costumes are concerned, modern dress
will be avoided as much as possible without at the same time
assuming a uniform theatrical costuming that would be the
same for every play-not from a fetishist and superstitious
reverence for the past, but because it seems absolutely evident
that certain age-old costumes, of ritual intent, though they
existed at a given moment of time, preserve a beauty and a
revelational appearance from their closeness to the traditions
that gave them birth .
THE STAGE-THE AUDITORIUM : We abolish the stage and
the auditorium and replace them by a single site, without
partition or barrier of any kind, which will become the theater
of the action . A direct communication will be re-established
between the spectator and the spectacle, between the actor
and the spectator, from the fact that the spectator, placed in
the middle of the action , is engulfed and physically affected
by it. This envelopment results, in part, from the very con­
figuration of the room itself.
Thus, abandoning the architecture of present-day theaters,
we shall take some hangar or barn, which we shall have re­
constructed according to processes which have culminated in
the architecture of certain churches or holy places, and of
certain temples in Tibet.
In the interior of this construction special proportions of
height and depth will prevail. The hall will be enclosed by
four walls, without any kind of ornament, and the public will
be seated in the middle of the room , on the ground floor, on
mobile chairs which will allow them to follow the spectacle
which will take place all around them. In effect, the absence
of a stage in the usual sense of the word will provide for the
deployment of the action in the four corners of the room .
Particular positions will be reserved for actors and action
at the four cardinal points of the room. The scenes will be
played in front of whitewashed wall-backgrounds designed to
absorb the light . In addition, galleries overhead will run
ANTONIN A RTAUD 97

around the periphery of the hall as in certain primitive paint­

ings. These galleries will permit the actors, whenever the
action makes it necessary, to be pursued from one point in
the room to another, and the action to be deployed on all
levels and in all perspectives of height and depth . A cry
uttered at one end of the room can be transmitted from mouth
to mouth w ith amplifications and successive modulations all
the way to the other. The action will unfold, will extend its
trajectory from level to level, point to point; paroxysms will
suddenly b urst forth, will flare up like fires in different spots.
A nd to speak of the spectacle's character as true illusion or
of the direct and immediate influence of the action on the
spectator will not be h ollow words. For this diffusion of
action over an im mense space will oblige the lighting of a
scene and the varied lighting of a performance to fall upon
the public as much as upon the actors-and to the several
simultaneous actions or several phases of an identical action
in which the characters, swarming over each other like bees,
will endure all the onslaughts of the situations and the external
assaults of the tempestuous elements. will correspond the
physical means of lighting, of producing thunder or wind,
whose repercussions the spectator will undergo.
However, a central position will be reserved which, with­
out serving, properly speaking, as a stage, will permit the
bulk of the action to be concentrated and brought to a climax
whenever necessary .
OBJ ECTS-MASKS-AcCESSORIES: Manikins, enormous
masks, objects of strange proportions will appear with the
same sanction as verbal images, will enforce the concrete
aspect of every image and every expression-with the corol­
lary that all objects requ iring a stereotyped physical repre­
sentation will be discarded or disguised.
THE SET: There will n ot be any set. This function will be
sufficiently undertaken by hieroglyphic characters, ritual cos­
tumes, manikins ten feet high representing the beard of King
 98 The Theater and Its Double

Lear in the storm, m usical instruments tall as men , objects

of unknown shape and purpose.
IMMEDIACY : But, people will say, a theater so divorced
from life, from facts, from immediate interests . . . . From the
present and its events, yes! From whatever preoccupations
have any of that profundity which is the prerogative of
some men, no! In the Zohar, the story of Rabbi Simeon who
burns like fire is as immediate as fire itself.
WORKS : We shall not act a written play, but we shall make
attempts at direct staging, around themes, facts, or known
works. The very nature and disposition of the room suggest
this treatment, and there is no theme, however vast, that can
be denied us.
SPECTACLE : There is an idea of integral spectacles which
must be regenerated. The problem is to make space speak,
to feed and furnish it; like m ines laid in a wall of rock which
all of a sudden turns into geysers and bouquets of stone.
THE ACTOR : The actor is both an element of first impor­
tance, since it is upon the effectiveness of his work that the
success of the spectacle depends, and a kind of passive and
neutral element, since he is rigorously denied all personal
initiative . It is a domain in which there is no precise rule;
and between the actor of whom is required the mere quality
of a sob and the actor who must deliver an oration with all
his personal qualities of persuasiveness, there is the whole
margin which separates a man from an instrument .
THE INTERPRETATION : The spectacle will be calculated
from one end to the other, like a code ( un langage ) . Thus
there will be no lost movements, all movements will obey a
rhythm; and each character being merely a type, his gesticula­
tion, physiognomy, and costume will appear like so many
rays of light.
THE CINEMA : To the crude v isualization of what is, the
theater through poetry opposes images of what is not . How­
ever, from the point of view of action, one cannot compare
 ANTONIN ARTAUD 99
a cinematic image which, however poetic it may be, is limited
by the film, to a theatrical image which obeys all the exigencies
of life.
CRUELTY : Without an element of cruelty at the root of
every spectacle, the theater is not possible. In our present
state of degeneration it is through the skin that metaphysics
must be made to re-enter our minds.
THE PUBLIC : First of all this theater must exist.
THE PROGRAM : We shall stage, without regard for text:
1 . A n adaptation of a work from the time of Shakespeare,
a work entirely consistent with our present troubled state of
mind, whether one of the apocryphal plays of Shakespeare,
such as Arden of Feversham, or an entirely different play from
the same period.
2. A play of extreme poetic freedom by Leon-Paul Fargue.
3. An extract from the Zohar: The Story of Rabbi Simeon,
which has the ever present violence and force of a confia­
gration.
4. The story of Bluebeard reconstructed according to the
historical records and with a new idea of eroticism and cruelty .
5. The Fall of Jerusalem, according to the Bible and
history; with the blood-red color that trickles from it and the
people's feeling of abandon and panic visible e ven in the
light; and on the other hand the metaphysical disputes of
the prophets, the frightful intellectual agitation they create
and the repercussions of wh ich physically affect the King,
the Temple, the People, and Events themselves.
6. A Tale by the Marquis de Sade, in which the eroticism
will be transposed, allegorically mounted and figured, to
create a violent exteriorization of cruelty, and a dissimu lation
of the remainder.
7. One or more romantic melodramas in which the im­
probability will become an active and concrete element of
poetry .
8. Buchner's Wozzek, in a spirit of reaction against our
1 00 The Theater and Its Double
principles and as an example of what can be drawn from a
formal text in terms of the stage.
9. Works from the Elizabethan theater stripped of their
text and retaining only the accouterments of period, situa­
tions, characters, and action .