JeanPaul_Sartre_JeanPaul_Sartre_Basic_Writing

296Jean-Paul Sartre: Basic Writingsconstituted and apprehended by an imaginative consciousness which posits it asunreal.What we have just shown regarding painting is readily applied to the art of fiction,poetry and drama as well. It is self-evident that the novelist, the poet and the dramatistconstruct an unreal object by means of verbal analogues; it is also self-evident that theactor who plays Hamlet makes use of himself, of his whole body, as an analogue of theimaginary person. Even the famous dispute about the paradox of the comedian isenlightened by the view here presented. It is well known that certain amateurs proclaimthat the actor does not believe in the character he portrays. Others, leaning on manywitnesses, claim that the actor becomes identified in some way with the character heis enacting. To us these two views are not exclusive of each other; if by “belief” ismeant actually real it is obvious that the actor does not actually consider himself to beHamlet. But this does not mean that he does not “mobilize” all his powers to makeHamlet real. He uses all his feelings, all his strength, all his gestures as analogues of thefeelings and conduct of Hamlet. But by this very fact he takes the reality away fromthem. He lives completely in an unreal way. And it matters little that he is actuallyweeping in enacting the role. He himself experiences these tears (whose origin weexplained above, see Chapter 2 , 2: Affectivity) as the tears of Hamlet, that is, as theanalogue of unreal tears—and so does the audience. “be transformation that occurshere is like that which we discussed in the dream: the actor is completely caught up,inspired, by the unreal. It is not the character who becomes real in the actor, it is theactor who becomes unreal in his character. 1But are there not some arts whose objects seem to escape unreality by their verynature? A melody, for instance, refers to nothing but itself. Is a cathedral anythingmore than a mass of real stone which dominates the surrounding house tops? But letus look at this matter more closely. For instance, I listen to a symphony orchestraplaying Beethoven’s Seventh Symphony. Let us disregard exceptional cases—whichare besides on the margin of aesthetic contemplation—as when I go mainly “to hearToscanini” interpret Beethoven in his own way. As a general rule what draws me to theconcert is the desire “to hear the Seventh Symphony”. Of course I have some objectionto hearing an amateur orchestra, and prefer this or that well-known musical organization.But this is due to my desire to hear the symphony “played perfectly”, because thesymphony will then be perfectly itself. The shortcomings of a poor orchestra whichplays “too fast” or “too slow”, “in the wrong tempo”, etc., seem to me to rob, to“betray” the work it is playing. At most the orchestra effaces itself before the work itperforms and, provided I have reason to trust the performers and their conductor, I amconfronted by the symphony itself. This everyone will grant me. But now, what is the