The Grotesque as a Statement of Alienation in The Ball of the Mannequins by Bruno Jasieński

Russian Literature LXII (2007) II www.elsevier.com/locate/ruslit

THE GROTESQUE AS A STATEMENT OF ALIENATION IN THE BALL OF THE MANNEQUINS BY BRUNO JASIEēSKI

AGATA KRZYCHYLKIEWICZ

Abstract This article explores the grotesque in The Ball of the Mannequins, a play by Polishborn author Bruno JasieĔski, with a view to demonstrating the lapses into an apocalyptic vision of modern humanity lost in the labyrinth of misleading appearances, false promises and sham virtues. In the final monologue, the play’s chief character speaks of hope and disillusionment. The analysis of the play foregrounds its interpretation as JasieĔski’s own admission to being alienated because, like his character, he too failed to see through the deception masked by hypocrisy, power playing and ideological slogans pledging to secure a free and equal society. Keywords: Grotesque; Satire; Alienation; Avant-Garde; JasieĔski

I have not loved the world, nor the world me. (Byron, Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage) Alienation is neither a disease nor a blessing but, for better or worse, a central feature of human existence. (Kaufmann in: Schacht 1970)

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Kaufmann’s views aptly describe the condition of the avant-garde generation of poets who, like Polish futurist Bruno JasieĔski, began with the rejection of the established order and embarked on the ambitious task of creating the new art, consonant with the new times, the “art of the street”. In his pursuit to change the world for the better, JasieĔski devoted his talent to the ideological commitment which led him from Poland to France and eventually to the Soviet Union where he perished in the Stalinist purges. The character of JasieĔski’s writing is symptomatic of the estrangement felt by the entire generation of the avant-garde of which he was a prominent representative. “IdĊ máody, genialny, niosĊ but w butonierce, / Tym, co za mną nie zdąĪą echopowiem: – Adieu! –” (“I am walking, young and ingenious, carrying a shoe in the buttonhole, / To those who cannot keep up with me I will echo: Adieu!”) he wrote in his early poem ‘But w butonierce’ (‘A shoe in the buttonhole’; JasieĔski 1972: 24). 1 More such examples can be found in his poetry, which is characterised by the dichotomy between the poet’s desire to be accepted and admired by the crowd, and his concurrent desire to be its prophet who is “above” the uneducated and unrefined masses. This dichotomy becomes a leitmotif in his futuristic poetry, culminating in ‘PieĞĔ o gáodzie’ (‘The song about hunger’) in his portrayal of Christ whose suffering for the sake of humanity is rejected by the city mob (91). As seen in JasieĔski’s later works, the alienation of his protagonists becomes a requisite fact of existence in modern times. In ‘Sáowo o Jakubie Szeli’ (‘The lay of Jakub Szela’), a poem written in Paris in 1924, it is conveyed in the figure of the folk hero who, betrayed by his wife, relieves his grief by killing her lover and by becoming the leader in the peasants’ bloody mutiny against their landowners, only to die condemned by history as a traitor. In all JasieĔski’s works we find heroes that are prophets, misfits, or outcasts, alienated from their loved ones or from society or both, and who are trying to offset this estrangement either by vengeance (like Pierre, who infects the entire population of Paris with a plague, in PalĊ ParyĪ [I burn Paris]) or succumb to lunacy (like the Nazi ideologist Kallenbruck on whose face suddenly appears a Jewish nose, in the short story ‘Nɨs’ [‘The Nose’] published in the Soviet Union in 1936). JasieĔski’s heroes are not well-adjusted individuals. But unlike Oedipus and Hamlet, who are tragic heroes and classic examples of alienated characters (see Kaufmann in: Schacht 1970: xxxv), JasieĔski’s protagonists are model grotesque figures. Alienated heroes of JasieĔski’s works cannot be seen as tragic for they concurrently evoke pity and revulsion, and leave the reader emotionally perplexed. The reader cannot commiserate wholeheartedly with their doomed fate because of the disagreeable nature of their deeds and their disrespect for human life. The fact that they might be on a mission to bring about social justice does little to alter their overall image as misanthropes.

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Scholars who comment on JasieĔski maintain that in his later career he unconditionally renounced the avant-garde with its view of the world as an alienating place and, growing ideologically, he accepted communism and embraced socialist realism as his only creative method (see Balcerzan 1968; Carpenter 1983; Kolesnikoff 1982; Stern 1969). Such an assessment is of little assistance when interpreting JasieĔski’s post-futurist writings, especially his grotesques written in the Soviet Union. Works such as The Ball of the Mannequins (Bal manekenov), or the cycle of short stories ‘The Nose’, ‘The Chief Culprit’ (‘Glavnyj vinovnik’), and even ‘Bravery’ (‘Mužestvo’) are model grotesques, the genre disallowed by socialist realist dogma because of its propensity for ambivalence (see Krzychylkiewicz 2006: 27-38). They stand as proof of JasieĔski’s unremitting defiance of restrictions imposed on the artist’s right to creative freedom. 2 The inherently polyvalent nature of his grotesques makes one also doubt the sincerity of his commitment to communism in its Soviet version. The evidence that he found himself as badly adjusted among the Soviet comrades as when he was a young iconoclast futurist among the petty bourgeois audiences might be hidden in his most complex work (however, least popular with the critics), the “grotesque comedy” The Ball of the Mannequins. That JasieĔski, a futurist poet, would consider himself alienated from bourgeois society, was in line with his artistic programme. It must have been much more difficult for him to admit and equally difficult to express his feeling of being alienated from Soviet society because it meant acknowledging openly his own failure to fit in, to accept the stifling political atmosphere, and to be accepted as a rank-and-file Soviet citizen (see Stern 1969: 174). In looking for ways to express his position of a maverick, his disappointment and even fear, JasieĔski reached again for the grotesque. Thus, The Ball of the Mannequins might owe its inexplicable nature to the repressive atmosphere in the Soviet Union at the time and JasieĔski’s need to communicate it. The play’s Russian version was prepared in haste and appeared in Moscow in 1931. It was described as a “new publication of foreign literature” in the field of “Satire. Bourgeoisie. Europe” (Macuev 1934: 83). Its manuscript has never been found. For this reason the issue of the language in which the play was originally written remains unresolved. 3 Stern (1969: 212) insists that it was JasieĔski’s first attempt to write in Russian. Other scholars argue that the play was most likely conceived during JasieĔski’s stay in Paris and written in Polish with the intent to be translated and staged in France (Dziarnowska 1982: 164; Lubelski 1973: 81). This view is corroborated by the content of a letter by JasieĔski to a friend in 1926. In this letter JasieĔski mentions his intention to write “a thing for the theatre” (in: Jaworski 1995: 42; 2003: 170). This evidence explains Paris as the place of action in The Ball of the Mannequins and its French social and political scenery.

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Although the thesis of the French genesis is plausible, it seems to be certain that upon his arrival in the Soviet Union JasieĔski departed from the original conception of the play and concluded it already under the influence of his first impressions of life in this country. The complex nature of the play also proves that its author was trying to circumvent the restrictions imposed on creative freedom by the Communist regime. This transpires from his own assessment of the play given in ‘CoĞ w rodzaju autobiografii’ (‘By way of autobiography’; JasieĔski 1972: 245-254). It also emerges from the picaresque-style adventures of its main character as well as from the fact that French references lose any significance towards the end of the play, which considerably frustrates attempts at its interpretation. Stern (1969: 216) attributes the difficulty in interpreting The Ball of the Mannequins to the “pitfalls of ambivalence which are hidden in this very genre of the fantastic grotesque” and which, according to him, come to the fore in this play more than anywhere else in JasieĔski’s writing. Cautiously and rather dismissively Stern adds that this happens “of course, against the author’s intentions”. To think that JasieĔski was unaware of these “pitfalls” means that he did not have a basic understanding of writing techniques and that the play is the work of an incompetent author, which is hardly the case with JasieĔski. His talent and artistic mastery are evident in his earlier writing, and have been acknowledged by his peers as well as scholars of Polish futurism (see, for instance, Carpenter 1982, Káak 1993, Lubelski 1973, RawiĔski 1968). Throughout his artistic career JasieĔski used the grotesque effectively to expose the absurd and the incomprehensible in life, to disclose the intrinsic dissonance between outer appearance and inner essence, exposing the dissonance between external beauty and inner mediocrity and malevolence. Thus, it has to be accepted that when writing The Ball of the Mannequins he applied his prior experience and deliberately relied on strategies of the grotesque to convey meanings other than those that a superficial comedy of errors would be able to carry. Among all more or less explicit themes taken up by the play, the one of alienation as the “central feature of human existence”, to use Kaufmann’s words (in Schacht 1970: xv), seems to be of foremost importance. The imminent alienation from the human world of Mannequin 1, the chief character in the play, is not difficult to recognise because it is entrenched in its/his origins as a puppet. 4 In the course of the play one learns that this mannequin is alienated also from its/his own kind, that is, from other puppets. Towards the end of the play, the mannequin realises that because of its/his own arrogance and misinterpretation of the rules of life in general, it/he not only put its/his own physical existence in peril but also exposed itself/himself to the danger of losing its/his own identity – even if that identity was only that of a puppet. 5 However, to see this aspect of the play, one must take into

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account its genesis and examine the complicated nature of the relationship between its composite generic elements, that is, the play’s grotesque mode and its stated satirical intent. In his biographical sketch ‘By way of autobiography’, JasieĔski described his play as a “grotesque-comedy that derides the system of contemporary Western social democracy”, adding that he wrote it “because the revolutionary repertoire did not have light-hearted spectacles which would enable proletarian spectators to laugh at the enemy for two hours with a healthy and carefree laughter that would give them revolutionary charging”. 6 Contrary to his expectations, and despite the careful formulation of his statement, presumably designed to appease the censors, the play was never staged in the Soviet Union (see Stern 1969: 215), 7 even though the introduction was written by no less influential a figure than the Marxist critic Lunaþarskij. Lunaþarskij (in: JasieĔski 1966: 119-120) defended the author’s device of “the purposefully fantastic”, arguing that the improbable world where “headless mannequins speak [...] although they do not have heads, and see although they do not have eyes”, makes JasieĔski’s “satiric targets particularly accurate”. Unfortunately, Lunaþarskij does not elaborate on why these targets are accurate, or what targets he has in mind, which places his opinion among other conventional pleasantries of little critical value. As transpires from the existing scholarship, JasieĔski’s own assessment of his play was never challenged; neither was Lunaþarskij’s ineffectual support critically re-evaluated. On the contrary, the play’s significance as political satire has been consistently emphasised by critics who talk about the “biting, passionate satire directed at the capitalist world” (Stern 1969: 215) and of the “fantastic as an excellent means of transmitting political satire [...] directed at social democrats who are marionettes in the hands of industrialists” (Kolesnikoff 1982: 120). Even relatively recently one critic described the play as “eloquent satiric censure of Western social democracy” (Bujnicki 1993: 182), while another noted that in this play “prevailing grotesque elements are blended with biting political satire” (Volynska 1994: 379). Although there is an element of truth in the quoted statements, their authors avoid the crucially important issue of the effect the highly disorienting grotesque mode has on the clarity of the play’s satirical objectives. In their refusal to ponder the true significance of the play’s genre, the scholars seem to adopt the view of a prominent Russian scholar of the grotesque, Jurij Mann (1966: 122), that there is perfect harmony between the grotesque and satire, for “the grotesque is written not to hide, but to expose”. He also is convinced that “literature – especially satiric literature – worked out the most subtle ways to substantiate the grotesque” (97). In accordance with what transpires from another publication, Mann (1970: 141) believes that as a rule the grotesque is subordinated to the satirical purpose.

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Mann and his followers disregard the fact that the relationship of the grotesque and satire is usually very complex. 8 Thus, although satirists often use the grotesque to highlight issues that need to be exposed as harmful, care must be taken that the inherently ambivalent nature of the grotesque does not inhibit or obscure the explicitness of satirical targets as well as the directness of satirical attacks for, as Thomson warns, “the grotesque writer does not analyse and instruct in terms of right and wrong, or true and false, nor does he attempt to distinguish between these”. Indeed, the grotesque helps the satirist to awaken the reader’s attention to various problems by casting a profoundly disquieting light over the portrayed universe. At the same time, however, it is the satirist’s duty to make sure that “the nonplussing, disorienting, and generally overwhelming effect of the grotesque” will not surpass “the didactic point which [the satirist] wishes to make” (1972: 42). In other words, in satirical contexts the grotesque must be used as a device that does not challenge the objectives of satire per se. There is one more important quality of the grotesque that upsets its already troubled coexistence with satire. It is its ability “to hide”. Contrary to Jurij Mann, Geoffrey Harpham, in his study On the grotesque: Strategies of Contradiction in Art and Literature (1982: 21), argues convincingly that “serious attention to the grotesque might unlock many secrets”. In the context of Harpham’s view, the grotesque text may easily become “a mask” concealing various issues – from the author’s fears and anxieties to his/her attitude to the world. Thus, in attempting to interpret the literary work that is at the same time satirical and grotesque, one must examine the interrelation between these two modes of expression, and establish whether the intensely grotesque character of the work, as is the case in The Ball of the Mannequins, does not interfere with its satirical objectives. 9 As stated, The Ball of the Mannequins is both satirical and grotesque. Its satire rests chiefly on the contemptuous analogy that politicians are puppets. Its grotesque mode is derived inter alia from this common figurative expression being enacted literally when a mannequin replaces the actual politician. The mannequin ideally suits the definition of the grotesque object as formulated in Jennings (1963: 9): it “is a figure imagined in terms of human form but devoid of real humanity”. 10 The play’s grotesqueness benefits further from its universe relying on its own intrinsic logic which abolishes common sense, rejects the laws of nature, obscures all points of view and confuses all perspectives; it is enhanced even further by the action taking place on a carnival night which, in the words of Jennings (1963: 20), “often serves as the background for a grotesque situation, partly because of its affinity for freaks and monstrous masked figures and partly because of its radical departure from the conventions of everyday life, its creation of a fantastic world in which standards of identity and seriousness no longer apply”.

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The play begins with the mannequins having their annual ball, which they believe is their right, albeit denied by the humans. They consider themselves superior to humans, for having ideal figures they are more graceful and elegant than people. In their world of fantastic appearances, appearance is everything. Viewing the world from their narrow “dummy” perspective makes them laugh with disdain at the humans’ vain efforts to emulate their perfect shapes. The real sense and fullness of life elude the mannequins completely. When Man appears, 11 the mannequins decide to cut his head off, not only because they despise his kind but also because they are afraid that he will disclose their secret gathering. It soon becomes clear that having no true understanding of human life the puppets do not seek justice but the “final solution”. As Female Mannequin 1 puts it, human beings are not an obstacle, there is always a way to kill them (“To mi dopiero przeszkoda – czáowiek. Ostatecznie moĪna go zabiü”; 124). Considering the issues at stake, one needs to pause here for a second and ponder the implications of such categorisation of the characters in the play: on the one hand are the mannequins – the victims and the oppressed who hijack, one may say, the language of the otherwise legitimate social struggle; on the other hand are the humans as their oppressors and deadly foes. It becomes of paramount importance to ascertain whose interests (or which portion of society) the mannequins represent for, as Jurij Mann (1970) says, one should be able to identify a reflection of one’s own reality in a work of art – perhaps presented in a crooked mirror, perhaps seen through a magnifying glass – but one should be able to relate it to one’s own world. It means that in one way or another humans should be able to apply their understanding of the world to the one created. Thus, applying common-sense logic to The Ball of the Mannequins, the mannequins are viewed as objects; the assumption that people may be interested in their vicissitudes, their ambitions, emotions or alleged suffering is ludicrous; unless one is able to establish discernible reasons for their presence in the play, whether in terms of their symbolic, allegorical or metaphoric representation. No such reasons can, however, be established in the overwhelming incongruity of the world presented in JasieĔski’s play. The way in which the mannequins are presented betrays in them nothing that would arouse our sympathy for them or their cause. After all, their only claim to being oppressed is based on the fact that they are not free to dance but are condemned by humans to leading their puppety existence as objects “nailed to the floor”. The interpretation that they might represent the underdog, the class of the workers exploited by the capitalists, is fraught with dangerous semantic associations (workers-puppets) and as such should be treated with caution. Also, the mannequins’ victimhood is not convincing enough, for it is claimed solely on the grounds of their own subjective perception. Nevertheless, the initial development of events in the play seems to lead towards a conclusion that the mannequins are true

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victims and that social justice is being fulfilled when Man – by analogy, the oppressor – is beheaded. But one of the characteristics of the grotesque is its unstable nature, hence, any conclusion made by the reader or spectator is immediately undermined. This observation is enforced by the fact that the scene of Man’s beheading by the mannequins (the victim destroys the oppressor) is cast by the author as the most grotesque scene of the entire play. As such, it renders all conclusions that the spectators might have made thus far invalid, especially the conclusion in respect of the political significance of the play. The search for the meaning of the play continues. In a truly grotesque fashion, the decapitation becomes a farce – the tragic and serious becomes ludicrous, for Man is a typical politician convinced that the whole event is a “masquerade”, a “conspiracy” to compromise him politically. Significantly, he does not lament the loss of his human head but the loss of his “ministerial head” (140). Consequently, he does not die after his head has fallen off; he continues to function like the puppets around him – he moves, he talks, and displays irritation. The logic underpinning this scene aims to prove the non-human nature of the politician. The Leader does not die in a human sense – only in a social sense, because his head signifies not his humanity or wisdom but his political and social standing. The Leader’s head is won (the mannequins draw lots) by Male Mannequin 1, from now on identified as “Mannequin-Leader”. The metaphor becomes reality as one witnesses the birth of a puppet politician in the true sense of the word. It is significant that this unexpected acquisition of a human head converts the mannequin instantly into a pompous creature that launches into the new world with a triumphant monologue: MANEKIN MĉSKI 1: A co wyĞcie myĞleli? ĩe po to wygraáem gáowĊ, Īeby pozostaü tu z wami, a z pierwszym promieniem Ğwitu przekradaü siĊ z powrotem do pracowni? DrĪeü, czy wáaĞciciel i pracownicy nie zauwaĪyli czegoĞ? Znów przeksztaáciü siĊ w kukáĊ na kiju? Przymierzaü ciągle caáymi dniami garnitury, które szyją nie dla mnie? I wyczekiwaü, aĪeby kiedyĞ – moĪe za rok-dwa, a moĪe za dziesiĊü lat – znowu nadarzyáa siĊ okazja, która mi pozwoli zebraü do kupy wszystkie brakujące czáonki i wymknąü siĊ na kilka godzin do miasta? Nie! Nie ma gáupich! DoĞü mam tego! DuszĊ siĊ tutaj! Wygraáem gáowĊ! Rozumiecie? Ludzką gáowĊ! Paszport, z którym mogĊ teraz spacerowaü po caáym Ğwiecie. Chodziü, dokąd zechcĊ i kiedy zechcĊ! Klucz, który otworzy przede mną wszystkie drzwi. IdĊ! PĊdzĊ! Palto! RĊkawiczki! Cylinder! (JasieĔski 1966: 144) MALE MANNEQUIN 1: And what did you think? That I won the head to stay here with you, and to sneak back to the atelier when the first rays of the sun appear? To tremble in case the owner or his employees notice something suspicious? To become a dummy on a stick again? To

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fit suits for them which are made not for me? And wait until some time – maybe in a year or two, or maybe in ten years – the opportunity will arise that I can put together all my limbs and sneak out to town for a few hours? No! No, I am not a fool! I have had enough of it! I am suffocating! I won the head! Do you understand? The human head! A passport which allows me to walk all over the world. Walk wherever and whenever I please! A key which will open all doors for me. I am off! I am out of here! The coat! The gloves! The silk-hat!

The immediate reaction this monologue evokes is that at the very moment the mannequin won the head he began to despise his less fortunate mates. This arrogance and forgetfulness, typical of social climbers, are evident in the rhetoric and tone of Mannequin-Leader’s speech. His perspective on life changes tellingly: what previously was subjected to ridicule – hats worn by humans were compared to “chimneys” – now becomes an indispensable accessory of status. The conspicuous visual grotesque of Act I, strongly supported by an irony that exposes the intrinsic emptiness and hypocrisy of the universe of the mannequins, nevertheless ends on a high note. The puppet with a human head goes into the world of humans with hope and optimism, with a firm belief that it/he will attain true freedom. Translating this scene along the lines of thinking which applies in the universe of the mannequins, a formerly oppressed being attains a means to be free, and his hopes are high. Acts 2 and 3 move the action of the play to the ball which takes place in the mansion of a rich car manufacturer, Arnoux, where Mannequin-Leader is welcomed as an influential politician. It/He becomes an object of attention, since every participant of this gathering came to the ball to do business, unlike the mannequins for whom the ball was an occasion to dance. The ambivalence of appearance that dominated Act 1 is now extended to language as well as to the actions and conduct of characters. Even this scant analysis permits one to see that the intense polyvalence turns the play meant to present a critical image of the bourgeoisie into a universal derision of the shallowness of human nature, of the inherent pettiness of the people, of their greed and vanity. The shift of realms from the fantastic universe of mannequins to the real world of human beings exposes the moral and spiritual emptiness of human society, which in its attitudes and behaviour mirrors entirely the superficial world of the mannequins. The two worlds are therefore not juxtaposed as once suggested (see Kolesnikoff 1982: 117-121) but rather they are extensions of one another, the characteristic which points to JasieĔski’s intense disenchantment with his fellow humans. In the grotesque universe of the play, the ready acceptance of Mannequin-Leader by human society proves one thing: that being a politician, that is a metaphorical puppet, the real Leader would behave in exactly the same way as Mannequin-Leader behaves. The industrialists are aware of the

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puppet-like qualities of politicians, which is why they intend to bribe him, so he will “dance to their music”. But there is an ironic twist to their plans, because they deal not with a human politician but a real puppet: these shrewd men who really know how to look after their own interests are in the end “taken for a ride” by a dummy. Not understanding the human way of doing business and having no comprehension of metaphorical language usage, the mannequin enacts literally various requests presented to him. Additional humour and irony are contained in the fact that the mannequin does not share human greed and has no use for the money offered to him as bribes. Despite having a human head, Mannequin-Leader still is the tailor’s dummy – its/his appearance might have changed but its/his essence has not – it/he is at the ball to dance and neither sees nor cares for any difference its/his favour can make to Arnoux or his rival, Levasin. Furthermore, having no ideological commitment, political integrity or understanding of human scheming, Mannequin-Leader also grants the demands presented by the representatives of the workers, the party delegates. Being the puppet that it/he is, it/he reads aloud and endorses one of the proclamations prepared by the delegates. It happens to be the proclamation of the strike by the Communists. This is as far as the play’s ideological concerns are laid bare. But being mindful of Jurij Mann’s requirement of seeing the real world in the work of art, one must consider the satirical impact of the Communists’ proclamation of the strike being read by a puppet and, in addition, by a sheer stroke of fate. It is impossible to overlook how double-edged this scene is. True, the Communists’ cause is outlined. However, the proclamation is read by a puppet that neither chooses to do so, nor understands its/his mission or the true meaning and significance of the words it/he utters. The saviour of the workers is not a skilled and ideologically mindful politician but a dummy interested only in dancing. Its/His ‘wise’ decisions are taken in haste and in order to get rid of the delegates: “No, do widzenia. Czekają na mnie. Musze iĞü taĔczyü” (“Well, goodbye. I am expected. I have to dance!”; 172). Human beings and their problems bore him, while their behaviour and reasoning elude his comprehension. The simple device of putting a puppet in the place of a political leader and making him arrive unwittingly at a correct decision has undeniable satirical impact. However, the satire is directed at all sorts of politicians whose success is the result of mimicry, ignorance, good luck and skilful manoeuvring rather than sincere dedication to the cause. Clearly, the scene where the Communist declaration is announced literally by a dummy with a human head implies that such dummies may be used by various agents to serve their own ends. Before final conclusions are made, the issue of language should be considered, however briefly, because it is a symptomatic phenomenon in cases of alienation as pointed out by Johnson (1973: 298) who maintains that “mechanical meaningless phrases” as well as the spotlight on “failure of

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language to remain meaningful” indicate the alienation of an individual from the surrounding universe. Language also plays an important role both in satire and in the grotesque. Its use for satirical purposes, often with grotesque effect, may be illustrated by The Stormy Life of Lazik Rojtšvanec (1928), a novel by Il’ja Ơrenburg about the turbulent life of an uninitiated Communist who pretends to be a simpleton in order to tell the truth with impunity. Ơrenburg’s eponymous dim-witted hero continually challenges the language of set and figurative expressions, interpreting them literally, a habit that consistently lands him in trouble. In the grotesque, whose role it is to expose the deceptive nature of appearances, language plays an essential part in this deception. JasieĔski was criticised for the poor quality of language in The Ball of the Mannequins (see Stern 1969: 212). It is, however, possible to accept the deficient language of the play as a premeditated device with a clearly defined purpose. After all, it is the language in which the characters of the play talk. The phraseological clumsiness and syntactic repetitions make the speech of humans and puppets sound the same. This mechanical repetition of phrases implies that the speakers do not comprehend the true meaning of the words they pronounce; it also indicates the misappropriation of language as a means of meaningful communication. In the universe of the play, the ability to utter words is not exclusive to humans for the mannequins also speak. While the mannequins’ language, that is what they are saying, is not essential to the grotesque, the very fact that they can speak predetermines their existence as grotesque creatures. Furthermore, the very fact that the mannequins can speak “degrades” the language of humans, but their blatant misappropriation of language of social struggle and of legitimate human suffering is disquieting, especially since it incites their rebellion against a human being, whom they decapitate. The opposite applies to the language of humans. That humans speak is normal, but how they use this gift is important if they are to be seen as grotesque. In the play, the language of humans is in an atrophic stage, it is a kind of code rather than the means of a meaningful communication. The play’s human characters are accustomed to reading between the lines, that is why they notoriously misinterpret, or rather over-interpret, the straightforward meaning of Mannequin-Leader’s utterances. This, in turn, exacerbates the rivalry between them, fuelling at the same time their admiration for Mannequin-Leader’s astute sense of business. The ease with which language may be abused is exposed further because Mannequin-Leader is a real puppet, unable to comprehend various modes of language usage in human society: it/he is unable to decode the double meaning, or “to read between the lines”, or to recognise metaphoric application of language in human society. Thus, understanding none of the double significance of their bargaining, it/he promises both Arnoux and

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Levasin compliance with their contradictory requests. Not grasping all the complexities of doublespeak and behavioural cunning, Mannequin-Leader is being drawn into a romantic liaison with Angelica and Solange. Inevitably, the mannequin’s wooden irresponsiveness to female charms earns it/him recognition as a connoisseur of women but, in the end, leads to the situation where it/he is expected to act in an honourable way, that is, to fight in a duel and put his head on the block, so to speak. 12 The undeniable humour in the scene when the two different approaches to language clash is short-lived, however, for it also makes us aware of how easily one can be duped by jargon consisting of highly charged words, like honour, freedom and justice. Significantly, it is in this scene when humans expect Mannequin-Leader to fight for the “honour” of the two women whose loose morals have been exposed that the mannequin begins to question language as a reliable means of communication, and realises that it/he was wrong all along in his believing that the human head would bring him freedom and happiness. One needs to note that all the instances of the comedy of errors and mistaken identities indeed enhance the comic quality of the play. But, in this grotesque play, they also have grave consequences which have to be examined in order to make sense of all the intricate turns of events. The ambivalence of appearance and of language is paralleled with the relativity of humour. The likelihood of misreading intentions points to the vulnerability of language as a dependable means of communication in social as well as political discourses; the possibility of a mistaken identity parallels the inherently deceptive nature of appearance. That is why, instead of pure laughter and amusement, the play evokes an unease and bewilderment; it induces doubt in the meaning of life when all the beacons of orientation have shifted to the point that it is no longer clear who is a human being and who is a puppet with a human head; who merits respect and who is respected for the position he/she occupies. Neither appearance nor language provide reliable guidelines. Instead of “biting political satire” and apart from the cursory comment on the hypocrisy of French social democrats, this grotesque comedy illustrates the breakdown in interpersonal communication in a world that worships status and founds its judgement on outward appearance rather than on inner value, a world that hides behind euphemisms, lofty expressions, ideological slogans and political newspeak. The hilarious comedy of circumstances and mistaken identities continues throughout Act 3; thus the angry, threatening tone of the final monologue comes as a surprise. It is delivered when the mannequin finally grasps the futility of its/his expectations of achieving success and happiness in the human world. The mannequin returns the head to its rightful owner who climbs in through the window to Arnoux’s mansion, now guarded by the security police under the pretence that it is necessary to defend it from the outside threat posed by the striking workers. This final monologue brings

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together the summary of the play and the hypothesis underlying this article that JasieĔski’s play, regardless of the author’s initial intentions, is an implicit statement not only of his disillusionment with the Soviet way of life but even more so of his deep-seated feeling of alienation in the world devoid of essential humanness. The final monologue contains the clue to the meaning of the play and as such it deserves special attention. As mentioned, it is delivered at the time when the head is returned to Man-Ribandel and with it the status he once enjoyed. The monologue is an almost incomprehensible concoction of menacing threats and ideologically charged exclamations. One must not forget that these are uttered by a puppet and in accordance with its true puppety nature: MANEKIN-LEADER (podnosząc rĊkĊ): Poczekajcie chwilĊ! Ten czáowiek mówi prawdĊ! (do Leadera) Drogi panie, nareszcie! Akurat w samą porĊ. Maáo brakowaáo, abym pana nie poznaá. (wsuwa mu do rĊki pistolet i popycha na swoje miejsce) ProszĊ, to paĔskie miejsce. (szybkim ruchem zdejmuje sobie gáowĊ jak kapelusz) ProszĊ! PaĔska gáowa! (podaje gáowĊ Leaderowi) Niech pan bierze. Niech pan prĊdzej bierze! Ja juĪ mam tego dosyü! I na co siĊ, doprawdy, poáasiáem? […] Kiedy wygraáem gáowĊ, wydaáo mi siĊ, Īe znalazáem skarb. A niech was licho z waszymi gáowami! Teraz juĪ wiem, do czego wam są potrzebne! […] Sáusznie zadecydowaliĞmy, aby temu ananasowi obciąü gáowĊ. (wskazuje na Leadera) CzyĪ jednak zdoáa siĊ je obciąü wam wszystkim? Nie starczy noĪyc. Zresztą to nie nasza sprawa. Przyjdą tacy, którzy to zrobią lepiej od nas. A nam siĊ zdawaáo, Īe wy nam tylko nie dajecie Īyü! Lecz jak siĊ okazuje, są jeszcze tacy, którzy chcą siĊ z wami porachowaü. Widocznie zabrano siĊ do was nie na Īarty. To juĪ dáugo nie potrwa. No, a tymczasem, skoro tu wszyscy mają gáowy, to czemu pan jeden miaá by byü wyjątkiem? Trzymaj pan! (nasadza gáowĊ Leaderowi na ramiona i przyklepuje ją z wierzchu dáonią, Īeby lepiej siedziaáa, po czym poprawia Leaderowi krawat i podnosi klapy fraka. Do obecnych) Panowie, moĪecie kontynuowaü […]. (JasieĔski 1966: 208-209) MANNEQUIN-LEADER (raising his hand): Wait a minute! This man speaks the truth! (Turning to the Leader) Dear Sir, at last! Just in time. I almost didn’t recognise you. (Puts the pistol in his hand and pushes him to his previous place) Here, here is your rightful place. (Quickly takes off his head, like a hat) Please, here is your head! (Hands the head to the Leader) Take it. Take it quickly! I have had it! And really, I can’t see what was so tempting about it before [...] When I won this head, I thought I had found a treasure. To hell with your heads! Now I know what you need them for! [...] We were right when we decided to cut off this rascal’s head. (Points towards the Leader) But will we manage to

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The fact that the closing speech in the play is delivered by the mannequin is in itself grotesquely ironic, for a puppet is entrusted with preaching a philosophy of life to humans. Seemingly serious in tone at the beginning, the monologue becomes openly ironic, but eventually assumes the tone of a political manifesto, composed of denunciations and threats. Towards its end the monologue degenerates, however, into a joke, a clownish performance emphasised in the stage directions. Why, we may ask, did the author who intended to write a political satire choose to end it in clownish bravado? Despite the play’s mode of comic grotesque, its dénouement is accepted by critics as JasieĔski’s fiery declaration of his Communist ideals. For instance Stern (1969: 218) notes: JeĞli jednak w komedii JasieĔskiego moĪna niejednokrotnie dopatrzeü siĊ wieloznacznoĞci, to jedno jest w niej z pewnoĞcią jednoznaczne: sáowa deklaracji, jaką wygáasza w ostatniej kwestii sztuki bohater jej – manekin, zwracając siĊ do zebranych na sali kapitalistów […] Sáowa takie zdarza siĊ sáyszeü w chwili narodzin kaĪdej niemal rewolucji […] Wygáasza te sáowa pisarz (gdyĪ manekin to oczywiĞcie tylko jego porte parole), z pozycji walki klasowej […] Even if we may occasionally find ambiguities in JasieĔski’s comedy, one thing is unequivocal: the final declaration of the play’s hero – the mannequin, when addressing all the capitalists gathered at the ball. [...] These are the words we hear at the birth of almost every revolution. [...] These are the words of the author himself (the mannequin obviously is his porte-parole), from the position of the logic of the class struggle […].

In a similar vein, noting that “Mannequin-Leader becomes the author’s porteparole” and in his words is a “fervently [uttered] revolutionary prediction”, Volynska (1994: 390) says that this “tendentious statement, a proletarian threat hurled at the world and entirely out of character for the otherwise politically naïve mannequin caught up as it is in its own fantasy of deformation, appears to have little relevance to the rest of the play”.

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The critics fail to note that, instead of being narrowly targeted at the French social democrats, the play appears to be an all-embracing derision of human vices – there is nothing in it that is not subjected to satirical mockery – nothing is serious, yet nothing is purely funny as expected in comedy. As one tries to comprehend the play and ponder its message one cannot help but feel ill at ease. The last monologue, too, instead of shedding light brings more questions, that is why commentators such as Stern or Volynska question its relevance to the play. However, if the closing monologue is indeed “entirely out of character’ and not relevant to the play, why then does the mannequin refer to his own monologue that ends Act 1? He speaks of his vain hopes and wasted illusions, the condition critical for experiencing alienation: hope and disillusionment (see Johnson 1973: 298). All of a sudden, this utterly ludicrous dummy with a human head almost evokes our pity. It/He achieved freedom which it/he hoped will bring it/him “ultimate happiness” – only to discover that this freedom is yet another sham. If scholars such as Stern and Volynska are right, and Mannequin-Leader is JasieĔski’s porte-parole, is it/he really saying what they are suggesting? Despite all the potential meanings which the play generates, this bizarre universe, this tangle of strange circumstances and confused identities, leads to one reflection – how difficult it is to orient oneself in the world and its politics, to know who is a real human being and who is only a puppet with a human head, who is a true communist and who reads only what others have prepared to be read? Why does the mannequin feel cheated and want revenge? Who are those who will come to avenge the puppet? Will they come and kill humans or merely mannequins with human heads, and how will they know the difference? Last but not least, why would the mannequin only at this final moment speak for the author, when it/he clearly admits that it/he was duped most of all? Perhaps laughing at everybody, JasieĔski derides himself more than anyone else? That is why he puts himself in the same category as a puppet who by his own ignorance and groundless idealism reaches the brink of demise. Maybe, indeed, as Stern and Volynska claim, the Mannequin is the author’s porte-parole? However, contrary to their conclusion, the fiery ideological rhetoric, so out of place in the burlesque context of the play’s finale, can hardly be interpreted as a declaration of JasieĔski’s ideological commitment. It merely conceals his shameful admission to his own blunder, concurrently diverting the attention of ideological watchdogs who scrutinised every printed word in the Soviet Union. Perhaps this sad ironic laughter – “When I won this head, I thought I had found a treasure” – is his way of admitting his own naïve belief in the existence of the ideal world, his own inability to see behind the façade of Communist propaganda. And the clownish grotesque jeering intertwined with threats addressed to no one really mocks his own “idiotic optimism” 13 and opportunism.

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In order to validate such assumptions one needs to refer to JasieĔski’s biography and point to possible analogies in the author’s own life and the vicissitudes of Mannequin 1. Living in France, JasieĔski could not possibly understand what Soviet life was becoming. Like his character, he too could perceive the world only from the narrow experience of life in France, which was not a happy one. 14 When he was expelled from France after the publication of I burn Paris, he came to the Soviet Union. Like the mannequin in his play, he too thought he had won the real “passport to freedom”. Arrogantly he looked down on the life he had left behind and entered what he thought was “a real human world”. Like the mannequin with the human head, he was adored and bribed with responsible positions in the Soviet hierarchy; he had mentors and advisers. However, as Dziarnowska (1982: 251, 364-366) and Jaworski (1995) point out, he was constantly reprimanded. In his private life things also went awry and, as Dziarnowska notes, “even his dreams” came true in a wrong way (1982: 294). In conclusion, as JasieĔski fails to maintain the emphasis that his derision is limited to French society, one has to recognise the play’s universal message, the author’s rejection of modern society and its values regardless of the ideological profile of the entire society or of individuals. However, apart from the certain universal significance of the play, its autobiographical message should not be dismissed. The analogy between JasieĔski’s own life and the fate of the mannequin is uncanny, for he too constantly made errors of judgement because he was an outsider in the Soviet world and did not understand its logic. By JasieĔski’s own admission, he accepted the Party’s propaganda language literally while the Party read between the lines of his pronouncements, interpreting their meaning in a way he himself never intended, and obviously to his detriment (see Jaworski 1995: 198). When in response to the accusation of national bolshevism JasieĔski wrote his first self-criticism in 1930, he must have realised that this world was not what it appeared to be from the outside. When he wanted to go abroad, he was refused permission, 15 somewhat like Mannequin-Leader who wanted to escape from Arnoux’s mansion and was told that “Policja zabroniáa kogokolwiek wypuszczaü” (“According to orders from the police, no one is allowed to leave”; 187). Thus, in the essentially misanthropic mockery of modern society one also finds JasieĔski’s concealed admission to his own failure to see beyond the façade of communist utopia, the derision directed at his own blind trust in the utopian ideology that promised perfect bliss in a classless society. As friendly appearances and ideological slogans continue to dominate JasieĔski’s life in the Soviet Union, he becomes aware of the ambiguity surrounding his own position, as Stern (1969: 174) puts it:

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[...] dziaáalnoĞü JasieĔskiego w Związku Radzieckim niemal od pierwszej chwili nie wolna byáa od sprzecznoĞci, wynikających z ówczesnej atmosfery politycznej i literackiej […] – musiaá on oscylowaü pomiĊdzy tym co byáo oficjalnie uznane za dobre, a tym co uznawaáo za dobre jego sumienie pisarza. JednakĪe […] JasieĔski szedá za gáosem emocji i logiki […]. [...] almost from the very beginning, JasieĔski’s presence in the Soviet Union was not free of contradictions, rooted in the atmosphere at that time surrounding political and literary activities […] – he had to oscillate between what officially was considered correct and what his conscience of a writer acknowledged as being right […]. It did not do him any good. However […] JasieĔski followed the voice of his heart and logic […].

It is evident that the iconoclastic grotesque allowed JasieĔski to retain this self-respect, alluded to in Stern’s inconclusive statement, and admit that – not unlike the mannequin’s misguided preconceptions in respect of the human world – his own idea of Soviet life as the true embodiment of freedom, equality and brotherhood fell dismally short of his expectations.

NOTES 1

2

3

For example, see Schacht who believes that the alienation of the avant-garde resulted from its desire to dissociate itself from popular culture. He also notes the unresolved nature of avant-garde attitudes: “the avant-gardists were proud of being alienated and yet wanted to be admired” (1970: 189). See also Poggioli (1968). This defiance is evident even in his most “socialist” work The Man Changes His Skin (1932). The novel shows multifaceted reasons for the struggle to establish a new order. Its plot, being based on the detective intrigue, made Mariơtta Šaginjan comment on JasieĔski’s “white gloves” presence in Soviet literature (see Stern 1969: 199). In this article reference is made to Bal manekinów published in Polish, translated from Russian by Anatol Stern, in: Bruno JasieĔski (1966: 117-209) (“The Legs of Isolda Morgan” and Other Works). All quotations from this source are in my own translation; henceforth they are indicated by the page number only.

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In cases such as this the conventions of language fail us because the act of metamorphosis does not happen in a true sense of the word: although attaining a human head makes the mannequin look like a human being, its essence does not change; that is, the mannequin assumes no truly human characteristics. To maintain this sense of partial transformation, and also for the sake of stylistic clarity, the double pronoun is used in reference to Mannequin 1/MannequinLeader. In cases of alienation, “identity becomes unstable; [the character] changes name and costume, and, even when he is himself, others consistently mistake him for someone else. He is a walking case of mistaken identity” (Johnson 1973: 306). Johnson’s definition fits perfectly the portrayal of the chief character in JasieĔski’s play, Mannequin 1, indicating that it/he, too, falls into the category of alienated heroes. Napisaáem w tym czasie sztukĊ-groteskĊ Bal manekinów, wyszydzającą wspóáczesną zachodnią socjaldemokracjĊ. Pobudziáa mnie do tego nieobecnoĞü w naszym rewolucyjnym repertuarze spektakli wesoáych, które by widzowi proletariackiemu dawaáy moĪliwoĞü poĞmiaü siĊ przez dwie godziny z jego wrogów zdrowym, beztroskim Ğmiechem, dającym rewolucyjny trening. (JasieĔski 1972: 253)

7

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Mejerchol’d intended to produce The Ball of the Mannequins but his plans were frustrated by his arrest. The intention to stage “the play by the unmasked spy Bruno JasieĔski” was taken as further proof of Mejerchol’d’s “departure from the ideals of Soviet theatre” (see Annenkov 1966, 2: 94-95). Some scholars, such as Ơjchenbaum, doubt whether it is even possible at all (Eikhenbaum 1982: 32). Others, such as Kayser (1981: 37), note that satire “has much in common with the grotesque and may even help to pave the way for it” or, such as Jennings (1963: 60), advocate the view that “the satirical orientation of the work does provide fertile soil for the grotesque”. For a more substantial discussion of the relationship between the grotesque and satire in general and in JasieĔski’s satires including The Ball of the Mannequins, in particular, see Krzychylkiewicz (2006: 271-348). According to Jennings (1963: 9), the function of such image is “to screen from view [...] higher attributes of human personality”, its purpose being “to evoke both amusement and fear” (12). The human character is introduced in the play initially as Man (Czáowiek), in the sense of a human being. When his social status is established he assumes the name “Leader” but when he loses his head he is just “Ribandel”. Similar renaming occurs with another character who first appears as Male Mannequin 1 and subsequently becomes Mannequin-Leader. This change of characters’ names merges stage instructions with the play’s main discourse, bringing further emphasis to JasieĔski’s satirical take on the eminence given to social status, to the point where it becomes the sole determining factor of a person’s value as a human being.

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14 15

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Because the mannequin treats human beings as if they were tailor dummies (for it/he is unable to comprehend the difference) and the women treat the mannequin as a real person (for they see only his head, that is, his status), the conversation leads to formidable comical misunderstandings, of which only the spectators, the outsiders to this world, are aware. Mannequin-Leader evaluates human beings in the only way he knows – by size and figure. However, Angelica and Solange interpret this as the mannequin’s profound knowledge of women (see JasieĔski 1966: 175). This expression is taken from Walter Benjamin’s Moscow Diary (1986: 29) and it refers to Joseph Roth who “had come to Russia as a (nearly) confirmed Bolshevik and was leaving a royalist”. JasieĔski’s case is thus not an exception. As Benjamin (30) writes, “the change of colour […] occurs in the convictions of those who arrive [in Russia] as scintillating reddish-pink politicians (under the banner of ‘leftwing’ opposition or idiotic optimism)”. Considering their similar age and Western European intellectual background, Benjamin’s impressions of Russia recorded during his visit at the end of the 1920s may resemble JasieĔski’s. For a detailed account of JasieĔski’s years in France see Jaworski (2003). JasieĔski wanted to go abroad as a correspondent for Izvestija but was refused permission to leave the country; Ơrenburg was sent instead (see Dziarnowska 1982: 523).

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Dziarnowska, Janina 1982 Sáowo o Brunonie JasieĔskim (2-e wydanie). Warszawa. Eikhenbaum, Boris 1982 ‘How Gogol’s Overcoat is made’ (1918) (Transl. J.F. Beebe). Gogol’s ‘Overcoat’: An anthology of critical Essays (Ed. E. Trahan). Ann Arbor, Michigan, 21-36. Harpham, Geoffrey Galt 1982 On the Grotesque: Strategies of Contradiction in Art and Literature. Princeton. JasieĔski, Bruno 1966 “Nogi Izoldy Morgan” i inne utwory (Transl. A. Stern). Warszawa. 1972 Utwory poetyckie. Manifesty. Szkice (WstĊp E. Balcerzan). Wrocáaw. Jaworski, Krzysztof 1995 Bruno JasieĔski w sowieckim wiĊzieniu: Aresztowanie, wyrok, Ğmierü. Kielce. 2003 Bruno JasieĔski w ParyĪu. Kielce. Jennings, L.B. 1963 The ludicrous demon: Aspects of the grotesque in German postromantic prose. Berkeley. Johnson, Frank A. 1973 Alienation: concept, term, and meanings. New York. Káak, Tadeusz 1993 Stolik Tadeusza Peipera: o strategiach awangardy. Kraków. Kolesnikoff, Nina 1982 Bruno JasieĔski: His evolution from futurism to socialist realism. Waterloo, Canada. Krzychylkiewicz, Agata 2006 The grotesque in the works of Bruno JasieĔski. Bern. Lubelski, Karol 1973 ‘Anarchia i dyscyplina: O Polskich powieĞciach Brunona JasieĔskiego’. Rocznik Komisji Historycznoliterackiej PAN, XI. Kraków, 63-98. Macuev, N. 1934 Ɍɪɢ ɝɨɞɚ ɫɨɜɟɬɫɤɨɣ ɥɢɬɟɪɚɬɭɪɵ. Ȼɢɛɥɢɨɝɪɚɮɢɱɟɫɤɢɣ ɭɤɚɡɚɬɟɥɶ. Ɇɨɫɤɜɚ. Mann, Jurij 1966 O groteske v literature. Moskva. 1970 ‘The Magnifying Glass of Grotesque’ (Transl. J. Booker). Soviet Literature, 8, 133-144. McElroy, Bernard 1989 Fiction of the Modern Grotesque. New York. Petro, Peter 1982 Modern satire: Four studies. Berlin.

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Poggioli, Renato 1968 The theory of the avant-garde (Transl. G. Fitzgerald). Cambridge, Mass. RawiĔski, Marian [1968] ‘TwórczoĞü Brunona JasieĔskiego od Futuryzmu do okresu paryskiego’. Thesis submitted for DPhil., àódĨ University (Unpublished). Schacht, Richard 1970 Alienation (With an Introductory Essay by Walter Kaufmann). London. Stern, Anatol 1969 Bruno JasieĔski. Warszawa. Sypher, W. 1964 Loss of the Self in Modern Literature and Art. New York. Thomson, Philip 1972 The Grotesque. London. Volynska, Rima 1994 ‘Avantgardism in Bruno JasieĔski’s Socialist Grotesquerie The Mannequins’ Ball’. Canadian Slavonic Papers, XXXVI, 3-4, 377396.