Keeping the Pace and Interest: The Main Body, Middle and Unfolding drama

The first act may be regarded as the entrance providing access to the main hall of the actual drama … be it solemn or joyous, fantastic or austere. There should be a carefully planned interdependence between all its parts and an inner law of harmony through selection, proportion and composition in a finely constructed drama. It should present a complete and rounded whole. “Construction” means dramatic architecture, a careful pre-arrangement of proportions and interdependencies.

Constructing a play is an art – in giving the mind of an audience something to look forward to through creating a captivating line of tension, and then not disappointing the audience by letting them feel they have stretched forward in vain. “How” may be more important than the “what.” Dumas remarked: “The art of the theatre is the art of preparations.” It is helping the audience to sense where the play is going and encouraging them to wonder how it’s going to get to the solution. There should be a finger-post (road sign) to direct the anticipation to the road it should go and the dramatist should place these “road signs” there. Forward momentum is important, as too much retrospect can be irritating and counteract the momentum of the play. Finger-posts that point backwards aren’t too useful. Over-preparation, or too obtrusive preparation leading only to a small effect is the characteristic error of the so-called “well-made play,” with too elaborate and ingenious intrigue, which may lead to it’s demise since few playwrights manage to be intricate, consistent, and clear at the same time. Misdirected ingenuity and too involved patterns confuse and fatigue the mind’s eye and may cause the audience to feel sceptic, like in “The Degenerates” by Sydney Grundy.

In an obligatory scene the audience foresees and desires a certain outcome, and if it does not happen, the audience may resent the omission.

There are five ways in which a scene may become obligatory:

· by the inherent logic of the theme – only in plays to which a
definite theme can be assigned, like those of Hervieu and Brieux, and Bernard Shaw in “Candida”

· to achieve specific dramatic effect – this may be instinctively expected by the author charging the scene with emotion, and working up the tension to a very high pitch. It may lead to frustration or disappointment if the author chooses a less dramatic way and “fail” to fulfill the obligation, like in “Agatha” by Ward and Parker.

The dramatic form of the “reversal of fortune” or the “turning of the tables” was a clearly defined and recognized part of the Greek theatre and was often associated with the “anagnorisis” or recognition. These forms apparently had their origin out of the ritual celebrating the death and resurrection of the season of “mellow fruitfulness.”

The “peripeteia” was originally a change from sorrow to joy in the rebirth of the powers of nature, a change from despair to elation. Later it acquired a special association with a sudden decline from prosperity into adversity … a fall from the pinnacle of happiness to the depth of misery. In the Middle Ages, this was considered to be the very essence and heart of tragedy.

Aristotle said that in drama, “the probable impossible is to be preferred to the improbable possible”. Plausibility is more important on the stage than probability. If a thing seems plausible an audience will accept it, but if it seems incredible at face value, it may be impossible to overcome the prejudice against it. Therefore an improbable or unacceptable incident can’t be validly defended on the plea that it actually happened or was published in the newspapers. The playwright can never recreate a situation on the stage as it actually happened. It may be historically factual and accurate, but the dramatist cannot restore the incident to its place of cause and effect, which is the essence and meaning of reality. He can only give his interpretation of the fact.

The concept of logic is loved by French dramatists, but their over -emphasis lead writers such as M. Brieux and M. Hervieu to develop a stiff, formal and symmetrical style of dramatic logical argument, without the pulsing and diverse rhythms of life. Logic can easily be misapplied.

There is a place for logic in dramatic plays, and it is more conspicuous to the audience through it’s absence than its presence.
If the dramatist develops a central underlying theme, it needs to be done in a logical way, to keep him from getting entangled in side issues and to enhance the logical flow of the play.

Good advice, often and authoritatively laid down, is that a dramatist must on no account keep a secret from his audience, because it is so extremely difficult to keep, try as you may. From only one audience can a secret be fairly successfully hidden – the first-night audience.

A huge percentage of any subsequent audience will be certain to know all about it in advance. Surely, the more striking and successful the first-night effect of surprise is, the more rapidly the report of it will circulate through all strata of the theatrical public. A mystery play might make a great first-night success, but the more the playwright relies upon the mystery for effect, the more fatally would that effect be discounted at each successive repetition.