Metaphors of Oppression in Lusophone Historical Drama (Latin America (Peter Lang Publishing), V. 6.)

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Metaphors of Oppression in Lusophone Historical Drama

Bonnie S. Wasserman

PETER LANG


LATIN AMERICA Interdisciplinary Studies Gladys M. Varona-Lacey

General Editor

Vol. 6

PETER LANG

New York ! Washington, D.C./Baltimore ! Bern Frankfurt am Main ! Berlin ! Brussels ! Vienna ! Oxford

Bonnie S. Wasserman


PETER LANG

New York ! Washington, D.C./Baltimore ! Bern Frankfurt am Main ! Berlin ! Brussels ! Vienna ! Oxford

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Wasserman, Bonnie S. Metaphors of oppression in Lusophone historical drama / Bonnie S. Wasserman. p. cm. — (Latin America ; v. 6) Includes bibliographical references and index. 1. Historical drama, Brazilian—History and criticism. 2. Historical drama, Portuguese— History and criticism. 3. Historical drama, Angolan (Portuguese)—History and criticism. 4. Brazilian drama—20th century—History and criticism. 5. Portuguese drama—20th century— History and criticism. 6. Despotism in literature. 7. Civil war in literature. I. Title. II. Latin America (Peter Lang Publishing); v. 6. PQ9593.H57W37 869.2’05140804—dc21 2003041491 ISBN 0-8204-6113-X ISSN 1524-7805

Bibliographic information published by Die Deutsche Bibliothek. Die Deutsche Bibliothek lists this publication in the “Deutsche Nationalbibliografie”; detailed bibliographic data is available on the Internet at http://dnb.ddb.de/.

The paper in this book meets the guidelines for permanence and durability of the Committee on Production Guidelines for Book Longevity of the Council of Library Resources.

© 2003 Peter Lang Publishing, Inc., New York 275 Seventh Avenue, 28th Floor, New York, NY 10001 www.peterlangusa.com All rights reserved. Reprint or reproduction, even partially, in all forms such as microfilm, xerography, microfiche, microcard, and offset strictly prohibited. Printed in Germany

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Table of Contents

Acknowledgments . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .vii Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .1 Definitions of Historical Drama . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .1 Types of Historical Drama . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .6 Chapters . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .10 Chapter One: Lusophone Historical Drama from the Sixteenth Century through the Twentieth . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .15 Golden Age Historical Drama . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .15 Portuguese Historical Drama . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .19 Brazilian Historical Drama . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .27 Bertolt Brecht and Theater . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .36 Angolan Historical Drama . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .42 Chapter Two: Intolerance on Trial in O Santo Inquérito and O Judeu . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .47 Religious Intolerance and Historical Drama . . . . . . . . . . . . . .47 The Inquisition . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .50 The Trial Play and the Inquisition . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .54 The Inquisitional Courtroom . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .57 Punishment . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .69 Chapter Three: Breaking the Bonds: Slavery and Rebellion in Arena conta Zumbi, A Revolta da Casa dos Ídolos, and Ana, Zé e os Escravos . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .89

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Slavery in Africa and Brazil . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .90 Slave Revolt . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .94 Slavery and the Slave Revolt in American Fiction . . . . . . . . .95 Lusophone Playwrights and Historical Dramas about Slavery . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .98 The Uses of History . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .101 The Church . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .107 Capitalism . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .117 Utopia . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .126 Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .131 Chapter Four: Colonialism and Treachery in Felizmente há luar! and Calabar: O elogio da traição . . . . . .135 Colonialism and Lusophone Historical Drama . . . . . . . . . . .135 The Estado Novo and the Brazilian Military Regime . . . . . .137 Dutch Colonialism in Brazil . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .147 Revolt in Portugal . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .152 The Church . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .158 The Martyr . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .165 Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .177 Notes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .189 Bibliography . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .201 Index . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .211

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Acknowledgments

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would like to thank Professor Mary Lou Daniel for her guidance during the writing of this book. Dana Stevens helped with the translation. My thanks also go to Tom LaConte for his continued support of my endeavors.

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Introduction

For nations, like people, distant memory of trauma can be submerged and repressed but never extinguished. —Vern E. Smith and Allison Samuels “The Long Shadow of Slavery” DEFINITIONS OF HISTORICAL DRAMA

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his book is a comparative analysis of late twentieth century Lusophone historical drama. It first provides a background in the genre of historical drama in Portuguese-speaking countries from the fifteenth century to the twentieth. The study then critiques seven modern plays, written between 1961 and 1988 in Angola, Brazil, and Portugal. The plays examined are O Santo Inquérito (1966) (The Holy Inquisition) by Alfredo Dias Gomes, O Judeu (1966) (The Jew) by Bernardo Santareno, A Revolta da Casa dos Ídolos (1980) (The Revolt of the House of Idols) by Pepetela, Ana, Zé e os escravos (1988) (Ana, Zé and the Slaves) by José Mena Abrantes, Arena conta Zumbi (1964) (Arena Tells Zumbi) by Augusto Boal and Gianfrancesco Guarnieri, Felizmente há luar! (1961) (Luckily, There’s Moonlight!) by Luís de Sttau Monteiro, and Calabar: o elogio da traição (1974) (Calabar: In Praise of Treason) by Chico Buarque de Hollanda and Ruy Guerra. As shown in this analysis, there is a direct correlation between the historical topics chosen by playwrights and the periods in which

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their plays were written. Lusophone playwrights who write under repressive regimes and during politically chaotic times frequently depict historical events and institutions in their respective nations’ histories that were clearly oppressive in nature, such as the Inquisition, slavery and colonialism. They also apply techniques derived from Bertolt Brecht (1898–1956), the renowned German composer and playwright, and intended to make audience members reconsider not only the action-taking place onstage but also their contemporary sociopolitical situation. This phenomenon can be observed in Brazilian and Portuguese plays written during the 1960s and 1970s and Angolan plays written in the 1980s. It is during this time that Brazil and Portugal were governed by dictatorships that curtailed civil rights such as free speech, a while Angola was besieged by a civil war which fractured a nascent sense of national identity. Lusophone playwrights thus portray themes of past oppression to covertly discuss political repression and the seeds of civil war in the second half of the twentieth century. This study of Lusophone Theater of the 1960s–1980s differs from earlier analyses primarily in its focus on the genre of historical drama and, more specifically, the political nature of Lusophone historical drama. I define historical drama as a dramatized representation of history. First, to dramatize or to make a drama derived from Raymond Williams’s Drama in Performance: “The word drama is used in two main ways: first, to describe a literary work, the text of a play; and, second, to describe the performance of this work, its production” (Williams 159). Though a drama is a text in and of itself, it cannot be studied without considering how it was meant to be performed: When a dramatist writes a play, he is not writing a story which others can adapt for performance: he is writing a literary work in such a manner that it can be directly performed. (Williams 159)

The performative aspects that playwrights have in mind refer to speech, behavior, activity and visual enactment and are often included in stage directions as well as other indications (Williams 162).1 In writing the drama, the playwright may contemplate theatrical considerations as well, such as how the staging should take place. These include the type and location of the theater and the conditions under which a performance can take place. In Cultural Space and Theatrical Conventions in the Works of Oduvaldo Vianninha Filho,

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Leslie H. Damasceno writes about how elements such as the social and political situation in which the drama was written, as well as the actual theater conditions, should be considered when examining the piece. In my study of Lusophone historical drama I discuss how the sociopolitical conditions heavily influenced the writing and performance of the seven plays studied. These conditions, especially censorship and the threat of imprisonment, affected the choice of a dramatic subject and the performance of it. The second part of the definition of historical drama is the representation of history. History is the narration of the past and there is no one way in which the past can be presented or narrated. In his work on the narration of history, Hayden White affirms that ideology influences the recording of history, just as with any other narrative. He postulates that ideology cannot be removed from the interpretation of history, for “[e]very representation of the past has specifiable ideological implications” (White, Tropics 69). A writer of history infuses her/his narrative with an ideological perspective regardless of the rigor of her/his research methodology. The subjectivity involved in writing and interpreting past historical narratives must then be taken into account.2 When Lusophone playwrights composed their dramas about history, they drew from historical narratives that were already infused with an ideological perspective that favored the status quo. In the case of Portugal and Brazil, this status quo was determined by the right-wing governments of Salazar and the Brazilian military. These regimes favored the portrayal of historical heroes and events which reinforced their image of the nation—conservative, capitalist and Catholic. National heroes and narratives that bolstered this concept were promoted in the official record and in educational textbooks.3 The Lusophone dramatists studied in this book, on the other hand, had a Leftist ideological stance, which was made apparent in their portrayal of history. Historical events in which the masses were oppressed appealed to these playwrights because that was the consciousness-raising message they wished to send to audiences. The Brazilian and Portuguese theater was thus political and, according to Jeanne Colleran and Jenny S. Spencer in Staging Resistance: Essays on Political Theater, “political theater implicitly requires that official versions of national history be re-examined” (3).

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There is a distinction, however, between plays in Angola and those in Brazil and Portugal. Unlike the Brazilian and Portuguese playwrights, the Angolans were aligned with the political group in power—the Marxist government of Angola—and shared its ideological perspective. Their portrayal of history reflects this by presenting national heroes and historical events in standard leftist fashion while still educating for the future. My definition of historical drama differs from that of several other scholars. Some scholars of the subject argue that a historical drama should be as precise in its treatment of the past as possible. For Larry Allen Reed, authenticity is essential, for he defines the history play as “a dramatic work in which an artistic attempt has been made truthfully to re-create the past” (Reed 10). Reconstructing the past for the stage without changing it is Reed’s ideal. Others find that the historical nature of the drama should be determined by the audience’s perception of what happened in the past. In Historical Drama: The Relation of Literature and Reality, Herbert Lindenberger states: What matters most to a modern audience...is not the historical accuracy of the fable, but the fact that, whether historical or mythical, the matter is ‘publicly known’. (Lindenberger 2)

The fact that the audience is familiar with or knows the tale and its participants is more important than its faithfulness to documented research on the historical subject. Between Reed’s and Lindenberger’s assessment of historical drama, I feel the latter is more akin to my own. In general, the Lusophone playwrights chose events that were known and with which the audience was familiar to make their point about the oppressive nature of the regimes in question, rather than being as faithful as they could to “objectively” documented history. The veracity of the events portrayed in these Lusophone plays is also not ascertainable for a number of reasons. The first deals with the very nature of a dramatic art form. Dramas are based essentially upon dialogue and, when treating events that happened centuries or even decades ago, conversations between historical figures cannot be verified. Reed acknowledges that Because there is very little documented dialogue that has been handed down from the past, and almost none that is dramatically effective, strict factuality is therefore impossible in (an) art form that depends to such a great extent upon dialogue. (107–108)

Introduction

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Dialogue in a historical drama is a sequence of phrases between characters made up by the playwright based upon what s/he thinks they would have said in a certain situation. Since the situation is one with which the audience is familiar, conversations that are totally unrelated to the subject will invariably be dismissed. Those, on the other hand, that seem probable for the time period will be accepted. In the case of Lusophone historical drama, dialogue cannot be verified in all instances, but only those in which actual historical records were used. In addition, the dialogue used reflects the ideological mission of the playwrights. Lusophone playwrights created dialogue and used other forms of communication, such as song, to challenge the official version of history as well as to bring it alive for the audience. The use of music and song is innovative and consequential in three of the dramas studied: Ana, Zé e os escravos, Arena conta Zumbi and Calabar: o elogio da traição. In the first play mentioned the music sets the tone of the scene being depicted. For example, a scene of a Roman Catholic Mass has religious music, whereas in another scene African drum music competes with European Baroque music, reflecting a conflict in Angolan society. In the Brazilian plays, the songs became a point of contention on at least one occasion for the authorities that censored the play days before its opening.4 Another aspect of the historical drama is the use of fictional characters, and Lusophone historical drama includes both fictional and non-fictional characters. There are a number of reasons for this. Whereas the historical record has the tendency of selecting certain individuals associated with events throughout the ages, historical dramas may freely add characters that did not actually exist. These fictional characters are essential to fill in the gaps and make the drama work. Sometimes the use of fictional characters is necessary to round out and bind together the dramatic action. With such characters, not inhibited by the preconceived ideas of historian or audience, the playwright can then enjoy flexibility. Obviously a fictional character can say and do things that a historical figure frequently cannot without unseeming distortion of the record. (McCalmon and Moe 202)

Fictional characters are the threads that tie the drama together. They are free to do activities that the “known” character cannot; though at the same time they cannot distract from the historical nature of the drama. Characters that are known to have existed are often hin-

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dered by the audience’s expectations. By virtue of possessing a general knowledge about the historical figure and the factual event, the audience will not go along with unlikely actions on the part of a “real” character. Though real historical characters exist alongside fictional ones in all the Lusophone historical dramas studied in this dissertation, they do not distract from the event portrayed, but rather enhance it. In O Santo Inquérito and A revolta da casa dos ídolos, this dual presence is specifically acknowledged by the playwrights as necessary to the dramatic action. TYPES OF HISTORICAL DRAMA

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inally, there are specific formats of historical dramas which Lusophone playwrights have adapted to their own use. Lindenberger identifies four of them: the conspiracy drama, the martyr drama, the tyrant drama and the trial play. The first form of historical drama is very common, for it best conveys the conflicts inherent in political strife, an element of many plays. Lindenberger explains that Conspiracies provide the central fable shaping the vast majority of historical dramas and that a conspiracy is that aspect of the historical process, which most readily lends itself to dramatic treatment. (30)

Many dramas have conspiracies in them because these can be dramatized well. In light of the fact that historical dramas are of short duration and often portray moments of political upheaval, the conspiracy provides a framework in which opposing sides can do battle. A conspiracy condenses the conflict between clashing parties and allows the audience to identify the various elements in that conflict. Conspiracy can best be dramatized in situations where both the ruling authority and its opponents are visible to the audience; thus, monarchies, dictatorships, and oligarchies...lend themselves much more readily to conspiracy plays than does a modern democracy. (30)

There are certain types of governments that appear to elicit more conspiracies. A ruling power that is autocratic has one visible front that can be opposed by another group. Or the group in power can attack those who threaten it. For this reason Lindenberger notes that One conspiracy awakens reciprocal action from those who feel conspired against. Thus, conspiracy plays often show two conspiracies moving against one another. (32)

Introduction

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Within a conspiracy historical drama there is usually more than one conspiracy. In all the Lusophone dramas studied in this book, at least one conspiracy takes place, though in O Judeu, A revolta da casa dos ídolos, Felizmente há luar! and Calabar: o elogio da traição the conspiracies are central to the plot of the play. These conspiracies lead to the demise of the main character(s) who are associated with the next two types of historical drama, the tyrant and martyr dramas. The second type of historical drama described by Lindenberger and adapted by Lusophone playwrights is the tyrant drama. This class of drama is “about the fall or the ultimate impotence of a tyrant” (Lindenberger 40). Examples of tyrant plays are Richard III and Macbeth by Shakespeare, and Wilhelm Tell by Schiller. In each of these dramas, an evil and powerful character is brought down as a result of his own cruel actions. In historical dramas of this type “tyranny is most vividly demonstrated through its persecution of those who cannot fight back, above all children” (Lindenberger 40). Though the suffering that the tyrant inflicts may be great, s/he will ultimately be brought down. “A play detailing his complete and unqualified triumph would not only violate an audience’s sense of moral sensibilities but would give the impression of a crude joke which has yet to be resolved” (Lindenberger 40). By not allowing the tyrant to be the victor, the playwright demonstrates “the ultimate bankruptcy of tyranny” (Lindenberger 41). In the Lusophone historical dramas, there is no complete tyrant drama, though there are tyrannical figures who work against the martyr characters. Examples of such tyrannical figures include D. Ana Joaquina in Ana, Zé e os escravos, the Padre in A revolta da casa dos ídolos, the InquisidorMor in O Judeu, Mathias de Albuquerque in Calabar: o elogio da traição, D. Miguel Forjaz in Felizmente há luar! and D. Ayres in Arena conta Zumbi. Each of these figures plays a role in the martyrdom of the dramas’ heroes and heroines. Martyr dramas, which are the primary focus of the Lusophone playwrights considered here, focus on a character that attempts to preserve her/his integrity against those who wish to persecute her or him. Unlike the tyrant drama in which the main character persecutes others, in this type of historical drama the main character is acted upon (Lindenberger 45). Usually the martyr holds a conviction that threatens those who have power over her/his life. The lengths to

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which the martyr will go to maintain this conviction ultimately lead to her or his martyrdom. In a dramatic representation of the situation, the playwright attempts to make the audience aware of the martyr’s belief. Every martyr play, whether religious or secular, works rhetorically to excite the audience’s admiration for the martyr and convince it of the rightness of his cause (though it usually stops short of asking the audience to join him in martyrdom). (Lindenberger 46)

By making the audience aware of what the martyr is sacrificing her/his life for, the playwright focuses the public’s attention on a particular historical circumstance. Whereas the story of Herod provides an example of the tyrant play, “the martyr play inevitably echoes the Passion story (though Walter Benjamin would trace its ‘origins’ to the death of Socrates, which he sees as a parody of Greek tragedy)” (Lindenberger 40). Indeed, the story of the crucifixion is a prime case of a martyr drama, for it contains the elements of a victim (Jesus) being oppressed and then ultimately going beyond the situation through a spiritual transcendence. Aside from Jesus, other figures who tend to be the main characters in martyr dramas are frequently women and children. Lindenberger postulates that this is because “women, like children, have traditionally provided natural symbols for dramatic situations which demand that the audience feel outraged by wronged innocence” (48). Audiences can identify more emotionally with the persecution of the weak who, in Western literature, have often been personified by female and younger characters. In all the Lusophone plays here studied, there are martyr figures who suffer deaths similar to the crucifixion; in all of them there is a character who dies a martyr’s death. Martyrdom can be seen particularly in the historical dramas which end in execution, such as O Judeu, in which António José da Silva is burned at stake by the Inquisition; in O Santo Inquérito Branca Dias dies a similar death, and in Felizmente há luar! General Gomes Freire is also burned alive. In Calabar: o elogio da traição Calabar is hung, drawn, and quartered, whereas in A revolta da casa dos ídolos the main heroes are killed outright. The use of martyrdom as a dramatic structure reinforces the playwrights’ message about the injustice of the political system of the era depicted onstage and calls attention to present-day repression and unrest known to the audience.

Introduction

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A fourth form of historical drama which may incorporate elements of conspiracy, martyr and tyranny dramas is the trial drama. According to Lindenberger, “Trials have been a persistent element in the history of drama” (Lindenberger 21). In this type of play, playwrights re-create onstage courts of law where defendants stand accused of crimes, prosecutors brutally cross-examine, and juries render verdicts. Whereas the final decision may be decided upon by a staged judge, “The audience is expected to serve as judge of whatever villains and/or martyrs the author has set up” (Lindenburger 21). By drawing the audience into the judgment process, the trial play stimulates interest in the actual case as well as in contemporary situations familiar to audience members. Trials dominate two of the Lusophone plays analyzed in this book and, by so doing, closely recreate the specific theme of oppression. The first chapter of this study examines two trial plays, O Judeu and O Santo Inquérito, and finds that the whole structure of the plays revolves around this dramatic model. In the case of historical dramas from all three Lusophone countries, the variations in style do not distract from the playwrights’ purpose. No matter how the historical drama is ultimately composed, there is almost always a direct connection between the history selected and the present day. Herbert Lindenberger writes, “The continuity between past and present is a central assertion in history plays of all times and styles” (Lindenberger 6). Though the historical drama may treat a period of time long passed, there is some link with the contemporary era. Audiences can make the association between the two periods and see what the intention of the playwright is. Oftentimes this comes from the playwright’s own national history. “To the degree that a segment of the past is intended to link up with the present-day reality of the audience, the latter’s own national past has a special status among thematic materials” (Lindenberger 6). Events in national histories that have a connection to the current epoch are the most used material for historical dramas because the audience knows its own history better than the history of other nations and is thus attracted to it.5 Lusophone playwrights chose to write about oppressive events in their respective national histories because the audience could relate to them and make the connection with the social and political turmoil of the present day.

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Metaphors of Oppression in Lusophone Historical Drama CHAPTERS

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n my research I consider the past oppressive events as metaphors for modern political unrest. In Metaphors We Live By, George Lakoff and Mark Johnson explain that “The essence of metaphor is understanding and experiencing one kind of thing in terms of another” (Lakoff and Johnson 5). Metaphors are images or ideas that can be used in place of something else. In the case of Brazil and Portugal, playwrights employ this distancing technique to address contemporary issues without drawing the attention of censors. The temporal gap between that which has taken place and the dramatic interpretation of it allows the audience to grasp the playwright’s intended message without an explicit reference to it. This covert intimation is used to avoid censorship as well as other means of official disapproval. In Theater and Politics, Zygmunt Hübner cites historical drama as a form of allusion used by playwrights to avoid censorship. He writes that [T]his is the most widely used stratagem and often—despite the censor’s vigilance—the most effective. This cat-and-mouse game has been played since the very beginnings of theater: the question is, who is outsmarting whom? The theater usually emerges victorious, but let us not forget the allusion is a form of self-censorship. (63)

For Hübner, by attempting to avoid censorship playwrights may end up censoring themselves. In the case of Lusophone historical drama, it is difficult to determine what would have been written had there not been censorship. In the case of Angola, the historical metaphor is employed to help explain the current post-Independence civil war and shape a cohesive national identity. Not fearing censorship for their views, the Angolan playwrights are more open about the link between their nation’s oppressive history vis-à-vis Portugal and the present day and use historical themes to educate their audience about the importance of national unity. The past events represented in the plays studied in this book were horrific in nature and affected the lives of millions.6 Each of them—the Inquisition, slavery and colonialism—is also interrelated with the others and jointly they bind Lusophone populations together with a shared and painful heritage. The Inquisition was an institution created by the Roman Catholic Church to root out those who

Introduction

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had lapsed in their Catholic faith or belonged to other confessions. Though it had its origin in Rome, the Inquisition is particularly associated with Spain and Portugal, where it existed until the nineteenth century. Thousands of people in Portugal and its colonies were brought before Inquisitional courts to defend themselves against charges that they practiced heretical acts such as judaizing and witchcraft. Many were punished with sentences that ranged in severity from imprisonment to execution at the stake. The second institution, slavery, involved the capture and transport of millions of Africans to North and South American shores. Human beings were considered as commercial goods that could be bought and sold. This dehumanizing exchange stripped Africans of their freedom and created a hierarchy based upon race and class. Portugal was very much involved in the slave trade from the time it first explored Sub-Saharan Africa. The Portuguese transported millions of slaves to Brazil, where they worked in all areas, both rural and urban. In the Northeast, slaves were responsible for the highly profitable sugar industry. The third institution, colonialism, was very much linked to the two already mentioned. It involved the conquest and administration of foreign lands and populations by imperial powers. The Portuguese Empire was one of the farthest-reaching and longest-lasting European empires. Portugal had colonies in Asia, Africa and South America until 1975.7 Under Portuguese colonialism, colonies were not encouraged to develop their own resources, and there were restrictions on printing presses as well as on the establishment of universities.8 Colonialism also fueled the slave trade, for with African labor huge profits were made for the Portuguese crown. In order to represent these metaphors of historical oppression onstage, the Lusophone playwrights employ dramatic violence. One of the most acclaimed books on this subject is Theater and its Double (1938) by Antonin Artaud.9 Artaud postulates that [T]he image of a crime presented in the requisite theatrical conditions is something infinitely more terrible for the spirit than the same crime when actually committed. (85)

Because theater is not “real,” the re-creation of violent scenes is disturbing in that they are performed specifically for a live audience. Each move and gesture is choreographed for the stage with a “visu-

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al language” of objects, gestures and movements (Artaud 90). Another theorist who has examined violence in contemporary film, theater and novels is John Fraser. In Violence and the Arts, Fraser reasons that artists oftentimes incorporate violence in their works to shock their audiences: The author or director may begin by postulating a deservedly shockable bourgeois audience, but ends up with an audience that is begging for the shocks to be given it, either because it identifies with the artist against ‘society’ or because it is slumming. (Fraser 44)

Fraser explains that though the artist may think an audience will be taken off guard by the violence in her/his piece, the audience members may in fact appreciate it for it is circumventing the reality around them. The audience may see a work as the artist’s personal critique of society or as a legitimate comment on the public’s own disinterest in contemporary affairs. Fraser furthers his contention that in some cases the purpose of violence is to disturb the spectator by showing her/him something that s/he may not wish to see: If one is made to feel more or less deeply uncomfortable, it is because one is being confronted with facts that one hadn’t known, or hadn’t thought carefully enough about, or is still reluctant to feel intensely about. (Fraser 47)

Because dramatic violence is disturbing, it challenges the viewer on a deep level. This in turn may make the spectator think or feel differently about a given subject. Artaud sees this as beneficial for society, for it forces “men to see themselves as they are, it causes the mask to fall, reveals the lie, the slackness, baseness, and hypocrisy of our world...” (31). In the present study I argue that dramatic violence is employed in Lusophone historical drama to shed light on the oppressive nature of modern governments in Portugal and Brazil and the brutality of the Angolan civil war. There are many ways in which violence can be dramatized. In his book Violent Acts: A Study of Contemporary Latin American Theatre, Severino Albuquerque studies violence in dramas written during dictatorial regimes in Latin America. He describes how verbal and nonverbal violence is depicted in theater through stage lighting, sounds and props as well as gestures and other body movements (Albuquerque 270). Many dramas include forms of verbal violence such as “reportives” and “bombardives.” A “reportive” occurs when

Introduction

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“the victim recalls violence that others did to him...or to him and his people...” (Albuquerque 43). A “bombardive”, on the other hand, involves “long segments of text...used as ammunition to bombard other characters, and the reader or spectator” (Albuquerque 57). In the Lusophone historical dramas studied in this book, there are numerous examples of both these forms of verbal violence. There are also scenes that depict physical violence, including torture. In these scenes, lighting and props are instrumental in re-creating the atmosphere and action. This study is composed of four chapters. The first provides a background of historical drama from the sixteenth century to the present. It demonstrates that the Lusophone historical drama of the late twentieth century is part of a long tradition of historical drama, deeply influenced by the traditions of other countries, especially Spain. The chapter is set up both chronologically and geographically. It begins by examining the trajectory of the historical drama in Portugal, then Brazil and finally Angola. The reasoning behind this order is that the historical drama, as well as the Portuguese language, originated in Europe before it was exported to Brazil and Angola. The chapter reveals that at various times in history there were surges of historical dramas; El Siglo del Oro (the seventeenthcentury) in Spain and the nineteenth century worldwide were periods in which the historical drama was highly popular. This chapter also discusses several ways in which history was presented in various periods. The next chapter is entitled “Intolerance on Trial: O Santo Inquérito and O Judeu.” It shows how the Brazilian play O Santo Inquérito (1966) by Alfredo Dias Gomes (b. 1924) and the Portuguese play O Judeu (1966) by Bernardo Santareno (1926–1980) use a trial format to question the political repression of the day. The two plays recreate the Inquisitional trials of historical figures Branca Dias and dramatist Antônio José da Silva (“O Judeu”) (1701–1734). Through this dramatic portrayal of Inquisitional trials, the playwrights critique the modern-day injustice of the military regime in Brazil and the Salazar dictatorship in Portugal. The following chapter, “Breaking the Bonds: Slavery and Rebellion in A revolta da casa dos ídolos, Ana, Zé e os Escravos and Arena conta Zumbi,” analyzes the depiction of slavery in modern Angolan and Brazilian theater. A revolta da casa dos ídolos (1980) by

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Pepetela and Ana, Zé e os escravos (1988) by José Mena Abrantes examine the roots of the slave trade in Africa from an Angolan perspective. They focus on the involvement of the Church and the Portuguese as well as the collaboration of Africans in the commerce that wrested millions from their homes and families. In these dramas, the playwrights openly allude to the involvement of Cold War adversaries in perpetuating the civil war in Angola. The third play examined, Arena conta Zumbi (1964), was a collaborative effort by Brazilians Augusto Boal and Gianfrancesco Guarnieri. It depicts the rise and demise of Palmares, a seventeenth-century fugitive slave community in Northeastern Brazil, and compares it to the coup d’etat that brought the military regime to power in Brazil in 1964. All three plays in this chapter—especially Ana, Zé e os escravos and Arena conta Zumbi—use an adapted Brechtian format that separates the story from the action. They also critique capitalism and provide a vision of a utopia in which there is no division among races or classes. The last thematic chapter is “Colonialism and Treachery in Felizmente há luar! and Calabar: o elogio da traição.” This chapter compares the treatment of episodes of treason during colonial days in the Portuguese play Felizmente há luar! (1961) by Sttau Monteiro and Calabar: o elogio da traição (1974) by Brazilians Chico Buarque de Hollanda and Ruy Guerra. In these two plays conspiracy also figures as an important element. The final chapter is a summary. Drawing evidence from all seven plays analyzed, I find that historical oppression is indeed a metaphor for political unrest in modern day Angola, Portugal and Brazil. The playwrights utilize the medium of historical drama to link the past with the present. The re-created version of the past is embedded with a political agenda set by the playwrights who wish to comment on their own society. In some cases, the playwrights were successful in bringing their rendition of history to the stage; in other cases performances did not take place until after the fall of repressive regimes in power at the time of their composition. In any event, the existence of Lusophone historical dramas provides an insightful look into the society and politics of the periods in question.

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CHAPTER ONE

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Lusophone Historical Drama from the Sixteenth Century through the Twentieth

GOLDEN AGE HISTORICAL DRAMA

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usophone historical drama fits within a long tradition of historical drama going back to the Classical period. The earliest plays with historical themes were written by Greek and Roman dramatists, including Aeschylus, Phrynichus, Seneca and Naevius Gnaeus.1 Over the centuries, the dramatization of history evolved; theater gradually moved from religious ritual to popular entertainment, and the performance of historical themes reflected this secularizing trend. Once theater became established on stages built specifically for performances, it became subject to both the sponsorship and censorship of the state. This reflects the fact that theater was normally performed before fairly large groups of people— masses that could potentially be swayed against the governing power. During chapters in history such as Portugal under Salazar (1933–1974) and Brazil during the military regime (1964–1985), restrictions placed upon theatrical productions strongly affected the choice of material presented.2 In many cases historical themes were used to circumvent censorship boards and critique the regime in power. Until the sixteenth century in many European countries, theater was associated with religious ceremonies presented only at Christmas, Easter and the Epiphany (McKendrick 6). Subsequently, theater became a source of entertainment for the general public and

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stages were constructed specifically for the performance of such plays. The types of stages varied from country to country, with some being enclosed while others remained open-air venues.3 In Spain the stages were called corrales and their blueprints reflected class and gender distinctions in Spanish society.4 The corrales consisted essentially of open yards containing a stage. There were seats along the sides of the stage and a pit in front of it where an audience of men, primarily of the lower class, would stand. Lower-class women were segregated to the back of the yard, and wealthier patrons could watch the performance from the windows of nearby houses (Wilson and Moir 33–34). It was in the corrales that the drama of the Spanish Golden Age— the high point of Spanish theater—was performed. The drama of the sixteenth- and seventeenth-century Golden Age featured such universal themes as love, religion and honor in innovative forms such as the comedia (Wilson and Moir 42). The comedia is a genre consisting of three acts with a polymetric verse system as well as at least one gracioso, or humorous character (Wilson and Moir 43). Historical elements were very much a part of Golden Age drama as playwrights employed history as a source of characters and as a background to explore the above-mentioned topics. For the most part, history in and of itself was not realistically depicted, but was often grossly distorted to suit the playwrights’ intentions (e.g. critiquing government policy). One of the greatest Spanish Golden Age dramatists, who effectively interwove amorous and historical themes, was Félix Lope de Vega Carpio (1562–1635). Lope de Vega was extremely prolific, authoring over three hundred dramas.5 Lope de Vega’s popularity and renown are a matter of public record: Lope de Vega took the theatre by storm in the mid-1580s not just because Spanish playgoers were eager for entertainment and he was prepared to give it to them, but because he was an incomparably better dramatist than any of his predecessors or contemporaries. (McKendrick 66)

Lope de Vega knew what audiences wanted and was talented enough to oblige them with many works. The playwright drew from a variety of sources: from the rustic themes of the Medieval period to the more religious, classical ones of Greek and Roman dramatists (McKendrick 66–67). Among Lope de Vega’s historical tragedies are

Lusophone Historical Drama

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Las paces de los reyes y la judía de Toledo (1610?) (The Kings’s Peace and the Jewess of Toledo), about a love affair between a Jewish girl named Raquel and King Alfonso VIII of Castile. In this play the queen, Doña Leonor, has the girl murdered so that the King can return to administering the state (Wilson and Moir 60). Lope de Vega also wrote a number of dramas that blended actual historical events and personalities with the theme of honor. The first, El Duque de Viseo (1604?) (The Duke of Viseu), is about a Portuguese duke suspected of treason and unjustly punished for it.6 The second, Fuenteovejuna (1612?)—considered by many to be Lope’s masterpiece—treats a revolt in the village of Fuenteovejuna and the murder of the villainous Comendador Mayor of the Order of Calatrava, Fernán Gómez de Guzmán.7 When the villagers refuse to divulge the identity of Guzmán’s killer, King Ferdinand uses torture (among other devices) to extract the information. In the end the villagers are granted a general pardon, showing how honor is ultimately rewarded. “Fuenteovejuna anticipates late-19th century theatre in its use of a collective protagonist and its call for social justice” (Zatlin 1016). Lope de Vega was well ahead of his time in the choice of subject matter and portrayal of history. Yet another Spanish Golden Age Dramatist, Juan de la Cueva (1550?–1610), is noted for “dramatizing popular national history, drawn from chronicles and from the ballad-cycles, and of treating it in such ways as to produce effects that are not only emotional but also didactic” (Wilson and Moir 36). Cueva’s work focuses on teaching audiences about their national history. His most famous historical play is Tragedia de los siete infantes de Lara (The Tragedy of the Seven Princes of Lara). He also wrote Comedia de la muerte del rey don Sancho y el reto de Zamora (The Comedy about Death of King Don Sancho and the Reto of Zamora) about the siege of Zamora by King Sancho II. In addition to using Spanish history, Cueva drew from Greek and Roman history for inspiration of his work. A noted play in the latter vein is Tragedia de la muerte de Virginia y Appio Claudio (The Tragedy about the Death of Virginia and Appio Claudio) (Wilson and Moir 36). Some scholars feel that there was a political rationale in many of Cueva’s plays. Cueva may have been presenting to his Sevillian audiences a series of veiled political commentaries directed against Phillip II’s campaign to take

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Metaphors of Oppression in Lusophone Historical Drama over the throne of Portugal, after the death of Sebastian of Portugal at Alcazarquivir. It has been suggested that Cueva’s history-plays and novelesque plays alike were political allegories treating this problem and that he adapted his sources to suit the needs of this treatment. (Wilson and Moir 37)

In light of political developments such as the takeover of the Portuguese throne by Spain in 1580, playwrights such as Cueva used history to critique the actions taken by the monarchy. A number of other Spanish Golden Age dramatists generously incorporated history in their works, among them Tirso de Molina, Pedro Calderón de la Barca, and Ruiz de Alarcón. Tirso de Molina is the pseudonym of Fray Gabriel Téllez (1581–1648), a disciple of Lope de Vega. One of Tirso’s better known dramas is La prudencia en la mujer (Prudence and the Woman), whose protagonist is Queen María, widow of Sancho IV of Castile and León. In this play María is an uncharacteristically strong woman (for the period) intent on passing the throne on to her son, Ferdinand (Wilson and Moir 95). In La prudencia en la mujer, as well as other works by Tirso, historical events are liberally portrayed. According to Wilson and Moir, “Tirso was criticized during his lifetime for his cavalier treatment of historical fact” (106). Pedro Calderón de la Barca (1600–?) wrote numerous comedias and autos sacramentales, or religious plays (approximately 120 and 70, respectively). Yet he is also noted for his drama La cisma de Inglaterra (The Schism of England), about English history and Henry VIII (Wilson and Moir 101). Calderón was criticized for twisting “history to conform to the general truths of poetry” (Wilson and Moir 112). A third playwright, Ruiz de Alarcón (1580–?), was born in Mexico and studied at Salamanca. In addition to numerous comedias of customs and manners such as La verdad sospechosa (Suspicious Truth) and Las paredes (The Walls), Alcarón also wrote dramas that drew from both classical and national history. The employment of the history of the ancient Roman empire, for example, endows the history of Spain, considered to be the inheritor of Roman imperial tradition, with a special degree of dignity. Therefore, by employing ancient history or personages in his plays, Alarcón was able to ennoble his dramas in order to present his message with maximum force. (Halpern 75)

Alcarón included classical history in his works to glorify Spain’s link to the past. He also found theater to be didactic. As Halpern sug-


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gests, Alcarón’s “concern to educate his audience far surpassed any inclination toward historical accuracy” (75). PORTUGUESE HISTORICAL DRAMA

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usophone playwrights participated in and were greatly influenced by Spanish Golden Age Drama. The geographic and linguistic proximity of Spain and Portugal figures among the main reasons for this cultural exchange. Also, between 1580 and 1640 Portugal became part of the “Reino Unido,” or Iberian Union as it is referred to in English. Following the death of Dom Sebastião at Alcácer-Quibir (1580), the crown prince’s uncle—King Phillip II of Spain—nominally took over the country and its colonies. The Spanish King did, however, leave legislative administration in the hands of the Portuguese (Marques, I 315). This situation facilitated travel between Spain and Portugal and reinforced the influence of Spanish Golden Age theater in its neighbor. One Portuguese dramatist, who incidently refused to write in Spanish—António Ferreira (1525–80)—authored a play that ironically inspired many Spanish versions: A Castro (Castro), printed in 1587 and performed in Coimbra, treats the 1355 murder of Inês de Castro, lover of Dom Pedro of Portugal, by executioners contracted by the prince’s father, Afonso IV of Portugal.8 António Ferreira não se cingiu à realidade estrita do facto histórico, mas utilizou-o de acordo com o objectivo e as necessidades estéticas que lhe eram impostas pelo género. (Rebelo 165) [Antonio Ferreira did not restrict himself to exact historical facts but rather used them according to the objectives and aesthetic necessities that were imposed upon him by the genre].

This five-act tragedy influenced the Dominican friar Jerónimo Bermúdez (1530?–99) to write Nise lastimosa and Nise laureada as well as inspiring Luis Vélez de Guevara’s (1579–1644) version of the Inês de Castro episode entitled Reinar después de morir (To Rule After Death) (McKendrick 58). The macabre story of Inês de Castro fascinated both Spanish and Portuguese audiences because her life and tragic death incorporated elements of Golden Age drama’s major themes. The great love between Pedro and Inês did not end with her death, and only the execution of her assailants redeemed her honor.

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In summary, the Spanish Golden Age produced numerous examples of historical plays that influenced the development of the genre in Portuguese-speaking countries. Lusophone writers such as António Ferreira also participated in the movement by bringing topical dramas such as Castro to the Spanish stage. Dramatists from this era may be said to employ history broadly to accentuate the major themes of love, honor, and religion. In the eighteenth-century, the influence of Spain waned in Portugal as that of Italy and France grew. Molière was one of the first French playwrights whose work was translated and adapted to the Portuguese stage. According to Rebello in “Sobre Molière em Portugal,” Alexandre de Gusmão, espírito iluminado e conhecedor profundo da literatura francesa, terá sido um precursor de Castilho na sua tentativa de ‘acomodar’ Molière à cena portuguesa. (23) [Alexandre de Gusmão, an enlightened mind and French literary expert, would become a predecessor of Castille in his attempt to accommodate Moliere to the Portuguese stage].

Italian opera also became increasingly popular, though primarily with the upper classes. The Portuguese kings D. João V (1706–1750) and D. José (1750–1777) were so enthusiastic about this new form of entertainment that combined music and theater that they sent Portuguese artists to Italy to study opera (Rebello 72). They also contributed to the construction of theaters built specifically for opera. In 1735 the Academia da Trindade was built and an Italian opera company invited to perform. Other opera theaters constructed at the time include the Teatro da Ajuda in 1737 and the Ópera do Tejo in 1755 (the latter destroyed by the earthquake of the same year) (Rebello 73). The lower classes, on the other hand, were more interested in and had access to the comedic farsas (farces) and cordel theater that were presented in the Bairro Alto neighborhood of Lisbon. These forms used the common people’s language, flowing dialogue and satire. The most famous playwright of this genre, and of the overall period for that matter, was Antônio José da Silva (1705–1739), whose life and work inspired the play O Judeu (1966) by Bernardo Santareno analyzed in the present study. Antônio José da Silva was born in Rio de Janeiro and brought to Portugal at an early age when the Inquisition


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summoned his mother under charges of practicing Judaism. Antônio José da Silva studied Law at the Universidade de Coimbra before moving to Lisbon to become a playwright. The playwright’s life ended tragically in 1739 when the Inquisition executed him in an auto da fé. Portuguese theaters presented Da Silva’s plays even after his death. Vida do Grande D. Quixote de La Mancha e do Gordo Sancho Pança (The Life of the Great Don Quijote of La Mancha and the Fat Sancho Pancha) (1733), Esopaida (1734), Os encantos de Medéia (The Charms of Medea) (1735), Anfitrião ou Júpiter e Alcema (The Host or Jupiter and Alcema)(1736) and Guerras do Alecrim e da Manjerona (The Wars of Alecrim and the Manjerona)(1737) are among his more famous. In these and other satirical dramas Antônio José da Silva’s use of puppets and critique of upper class excesses made him popular with the lower classes. O público popular, ao qual as óperas cantadas na Academia da Trindade, no pátio da Rua dos Condes e nos teatros régios eram praticamente inacessíveis, acolheu com entusiasmo as composições do “Judeu”, que cinco anos após a sua morte eram anonimamente reunidas em dois volumes a que o editor (Francisco Luís Ameno, tradutor, sob o pseudónimo Fernando Lucas Alvim, de Metastásio e Goldoni) chamou Teatro Cómico Português. (Rebello, História do teatro português, 75) [The public, which had no access to the operas sung at the Academia da Trindade, in the patio of the Rua dos Condes and in the royal theaters, enthusiastically greeted the Judeu’s compositions. Five years after his death they were anonymously collected in two volumes that the editor (Francisco Luís Ameno, translator, under the pseudonym Fernando Lucas Alvim, of Metastástio e Goldoni) called The Portuguese Comic Theater].

With his comical vision of Portuguese society as well as his pseudohistorical incorporation of classical dramatic themes, António José da Silva left a lasting mark upon popular theater. Though his life and work inspired many historical dramas, including one—O Judeu (1966)—analyzed in the following chapter, António José da Silva was not himself a historical dramatist. Historical drama reappeared during the eighteenth century with the Neoclassical literary movement commonly called the Arcadians.9 This group valued the Classics and was influenced by Greco-Roman themes and genres, especially the tragedy. One of the Portuguese playwrights who fused historical drama with the Neoclassical tradition was Manuel de Figueiredo (1725–1801). Figueiredo adapted many

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of his plays from other playwrights by making them more Lusitanian: Vesti nas minhas comédias o ridículo do homem com trajes portugueses, pintei nas tragédias a paixão das heróis da pátria (Rebello, História do teatro português 81). [In my comedies, I dressed up man’s folly in Portuguese clothing; in my tragedies, I painted the passion of our nation’s heroes].

Examples of his works include Ósmia, a Lusitana (Osmia, The Lusitanian) (1773), Inês (1774), and As Irmãs (The Sisters) (1775), the last play of which concerns fourteenth-century D. Leonor Teles and her sister, D. Maria. Near the time of Figueiredo’s death a literary movement that would greatly increase and vitalize the use of historical themes both in Portugal and in other European countries was in its initial stages. This movement—Romanticism—sought to free itself from the rigid constraints of the Neoclassicists by infusing literature with an emphasis on the individual and her/his passions, as well as a nationalist zeal.10 Romanticism “was marked by an affirmation of the need for a freer, more subjective expression of passion, pathos and personal feelings” (Cuddon 817). Romantic writers also commonly sensed a fascination with the past, particularly the Medieval period. Among the most influential European writers participating in the genre of historical drama was Victor Hugo (1802–1885), who authored Hernani (1830), featuring a riot onstage “representing the irruption into the temple of conservativism and classicism the ‘angry young men’ of the romantic school” (McCormick 504). Alfred Lord Tennyson (1809–1892) of England—better known as a poet—caught the same inspiration in his plays Queen Mary (1875), Harold (1876), and Becket (1884). Portuguese writers joined this trend of incorporating the past in fiction and theater. One of the earliest Portuguese Romantic writers, João Baptista da Silva Leitão de Almeida Garrett (1799–1854), used Portuguese history as a theme for the play Afonso de Albuquerque (1819). His first major historical dramatic success was Um Auto de Gil Vicente (An Act by Gil Vicente) (1838), the story of the sixteenthcentury playwright considered the “father” of Portuguese drama. According to scholars, this play ushered in a rebirth of Portuguese theater:


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Herculano podia datar de 1838 o momento em que o teatro adquiriu importância no País” (França 177). [Herculano names 1838 as the moment when theater gained importance in the country].

A few years later, Garrett presented at the Teatro de D. Maria II in Lisbon what is considered to be his obra prima: Frei Luís de Sousa (1843) (Frier Luís de Sousa), a tragedy about the legendary Dom João of Portugal and seventeenth-century writer Manuel (Frei Luís) de Sousa which vividly re-creates the ambience of fear and gloom surrounding the aforementioned “Reino Unido” (1580–1640) (United Kingdom). Almeida Garrett is not the only Portuguese writer to utilize historical themes. Rebello notes that this period produced a “verdadeira epidemia” (true epidemic) of historical dramas (História do teatro português 91). José da Silva Mendes Leal (1818–1886), for example, incorporated French Romantic elements such as poisoning and melodrama in his historical plays O Pajem de Aljubarrota (1846) (The Aljubarrotan Page), D. Maria de Lencastre (1843) and Martim de Freitas (1861). José Freire de Serpa Pimental (1814–1870) wrote D. Sisnando (1838), O Almansor Ben-Afar (1840), and D. Sancho II (1846). Antônio Lopes de Mendonça (1826–1865) composed Afronta por Afronta (1848). Even novelists joined the ranks of dramatists in portraying history: João de Lemos wrote Maria Pais Ribeira (1844); Alexandre Herculano (1810–1877)—better known for his Medievalist prose Lendas e narrativas—authored A Fronteira de África (1839); and Camilo Castelo Branco wrote Agostinho de Ceuta (1846) and O Marquês de Torres Novas (1849). Though their fascination with the past was great, their presentation of it did not do justice to the actual events. Romantics were criticized for their excessive use of archaic language and external description of past settings with little focus on the actual mentality of the period in question. They were, according to Rebello, Preocupados apenas em revestir as suas obras de uma cor local que eles confundiam com o pitoresco da linguagem arcaica e com todo um aparato puramente exterior e circunstancial (História do teatro português 89). [Worried only about dressing up their works with a local color, which they confused with the picturesqueness of archaic language and with an apparatus that was completely external and circumstantial].

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Portuguese playwrights of the Romantic period used history as a colorful background setting rather than as a careful or critical analysis of the past. In Portugal there was a lull in the production of historical dramas during the Realist period; subsequently, the genre once again became popular. In 1886 Henrique Lopes de Mendonça (1856–1931) wrote O Duque de Viseu (The Duke of Viseu), which was presented in the Teatro Nacional. Lopes Mendonça authored A Morta (The Dead One) in the same year, and two decades later composed Afonso de Albuquerque (1907). Marcelino Mesquita (1856–1919) wrote a number of historical dramas, including Leonor Teles (1889), O Regente (1897) (The Regent), Peraltas e Sécias (1899) and Pedro, o Cruel (1916) (Pedro, The Cruel). Júlio Dantas authored Viriato Trágico (1900) and Santa Inquisição (1910) (The Holy Inquisition). D. João da Câmara (1852–1908), “o maior dramaturgo da geração finissecular” (the greatest playwright of the fin-de-siècle generation) wrote Afonso VI (1890) and Alcácer Quibir (1891), both of which played in the Teatro Nacional (Rebello, História do teatro português 103). The popularization of historical drama coincides with the nationalist fervor of the time, as well as with a saudosista or nostalgic look toward the past. [E]stes dramas entroncam na corrente nacionalista que, na década de 90, forneceu um substrato ideológico às forças tradicionalistas e reaccionárias, saudosos do passado e receosos do futuro, procurando esconjurar este pela tentativa, de antemão condenada a frustrar-se, de ressuscitar aquele. (Rebello, História do teatro português 102) [T]hese dramas connect with the nationalist current that, in the decade of the 90s, provided an ideological substrate to traditional and reactionary forces, nostalgic for the past and fearful of the future, searching to stave off the future in the doomed attempt to resuscitate the past].

The past was used as a theme at a juncture of Portuguese history when the future was somewhat dim. After having lost a showdown with Great Britain in Colonial Africa over the “Mapa Cor de Rosa” (The Rose-Colored Map) in 1890, Portugal was weakened both spiritually and strategically.11 The turn-of-the-century movement of saudosismo (nostalgia) reflected this longing for a time in history that was more glorious than the present moment. In the early twentieth century few historical dramas were written. Of the Orpheu generation of writers—the first wave of


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Portuguese Modernism which included José de Almada-Negreiros (1893–1970), Fernando Pessoa (1888–1935) and Mário de Sá Carneiro (1890–1916)—Pessoa is known to have written plays about the late Medieval pseudo-queens Inês de Castro and Leonor Teles (Rebello 125). Subsequently, however, historical themes once again became more prevalent in theater. Rui Chianca (1891–1931) wrote A Conspiradora (The Conspirator) and Aljubarrota, which anunciavam uma revivescência do teatro histórico, baseada num compromisso romântico-naturalista, em cujo sulco depois surgiram os dramas em verso O Infante de Sagres (1916) e Egas Moniz (1918) de Jaime Cortesão. (Rebello, História do teatro português 115) [announced a revitalization of historical theater, based upon the romanticnaturalistic style in whose wake emerged the dramas in verse O Infante de Sagres (1916) (The Prince of Sagres) e Egas Moniz (1918) by Jaime Cortesão].

Other historical dramas of the period include Vasco Mendonça Alves’s Conspiradora (1913) (The Conspirator), Um Bragança (1931) and Vila Viçosa (1941). After the establishment of the Portuguese Estado Novo (The New State) under António de Oliveira Salazar in the 1930s, theater as well as other arts were scrutinized and used by the state for propaganda purposes. In the New State there was a high degree of censorship, so plays that were political in nature or could be construed as such were not permitted to be staged. For this reason, it is not until the 1960s that historical themes once again became more prevalent in theater as a critique of the regime. Two Portuguese playwrights who wrote historical dramas during this period are Luís de Infante de Lacerda Sttau Monteiro and Bernardo Santareno. The former was born in Lisbon in 1926. He was influenced by Bertolt Brecht and believed that theater could be used to effect positive change in society. In addition to writing original plays, such as Todos os anos pela primavera (Every Year in Springtime) (1963), Auto da Barca do motor fora de borda (1966) (The Act of the Outboard Motor Ferry), A estátua (1967) (The Statue), A guerra santa (1967) (The Holy War), As mãos de Abraão Zacut (1968) (The Hands of Abraham Zacut) and Crónica aventurosa de Esperançoso Fagundes (The Adventurous Cronicle of Esperançoso Fagundes), Sttau Monteiro also did adaptations of works written by other Portuguese authors. These plays include O barão (1968) (The

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Baron), an adaptation of the novel by Branquinho da Fonseca, and A relíquia (1970) (The Relic), an adaptation of Eça de Queirós’s novel. Bernardo Santareno was born António Martinho do Rosário in 1920. A native of Santarém, Santareno studied medicine at the University of Coimbra and became a doctor in Lisbon and on fishing boats. These experiences provided the fodder for his first book, Nos mares do Fim do Mundo (1957) (The Seas at the End of the World), and the play Lugre (1959). As a member of the Sociedade Portuguesa de Escritores, Santareno was jailed by the PIDE, the Portuguese secret police. He wrote numerous works and participated in various conferences, including the 1976 Bienal do Livro in São Paulo. Of his dramas, O Judeu (1966) stands out as an exceptional piece for both its content and format. This drama, which is analyzed at length in Chapter II, treats the life of António José da Silva, the Portuguese playwright killed by the Inquisition in the 18th century and mentioned earlier in this chapter. Other examples of historical dramas written at the time are: O render dos heróis (1960) (The Heroe’s Surrender) by José Cardoso Pires (1925–1998), concerning revolution in the nineteenth century; Bocage, alma sem mundo (1967) (Bocage, the Soul Without a World) by Luzia Martins (b. 1927), focusing on the poet Bocage’s difficulties with the government; A outra morte de Inês (1968) (The Other Death of Inês) by Fernando Luso Soares (b. 1924), linking a young nineteenth-century woman named Inês who also dies as a result of a conspiracy with the famous medieval protagonist of the same name; and Antônio Vieira (1973) by Fernando Luso Soares (b. 1924), about the famous Jesuit orator. According to Rebello, [N]enhuma destas peças tem a estulta pretensão, a que românticos e neoromânticos cederam, de reconstituir um passado irreversível, mas sim submetê-lo a um “olhar novo” (como diria Brecht a propósito do seu Galileu) que no-lo restitui como exemplo e fonte de reflexão crítica à acção. Só a este título podem elas considerar-se “históricas”: porque o processo histórico em que aspiram a intervir é aquele em que autor, atores e espectadores se acham comprometidos, mesmo sem terem disso plena consciência. (História do teatro português 139) [None of these plays have stupid pretension, to which the Romantics and Neo-romantics fell prey, of reconstructing an irreversible past. Rather, they submit the past to a “new gaze” (as Brecht said about his Galileu) which restores it to us as an example and a font of critical reflection. Only in this sense can they be considered “historical”: because the historical process in


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which they attempt to intervene is that in which the author, the actors and spectators find themselves involved , even if they didn’t intend to].

Rebello explains that these plays represent history differently than did the nineteenth-century Romantics. Rather than trying to reconstruct history to stir nationalist sentiment or as a colorful background to a love tale, these twentieth-century Portuguese playwrights use their national history to comment upon their present day. The influence of Bertolt Brecht was strong in Portugal, though only one of his works was performed during the Salazar era. A Alma Boa de Se-Tsuan seria...a única peça autorizada a representar-se em Portugal sob o fascismo...é certo que por uma companhia brasileira, e durante cinco dias apenas (Rebello, História do teatro português 136). [The Good Soul of Se Tsuan was the only play authorized to be presented in Portugal under fascism...by a Brazilian company and for only five days].

Soon Portuguese playwrights began to draw from Brechtian staging and use theater in an attempt to raise social consciousness. Historical themes in turn were presented in such a way as to highlight the dire conditions of the day. By the 1960s the Portuguese historical drama had evolved substantially from the Golden Age. In retrospect, it is obvious that many influences contributed to the development of the historical drama in Portugal, the theater of foreign countries such as Spain (comedia), Italy (opera), and Germany (Brecht) being among the most significant. Certain figures in Portuguese history, such as Inês de Castro, Afonso de Albuquerque, Gomes Freire and António José da Silva (“O Judeu”) have been a constant presence in such dramas. The playwrights of the Romantic period of the mid-nineteenth century produced the most impressive corpus of historical dramas. A century later there was a resurgence in the form as playwrights looked for ways to critique the Salazar regime.12 BRAZILIAN HISTORICAL DRAMA

T

hough theater was one of the first forms of social exchange between the Portuguese and the Native populations in Brazil, historical drama did not become a popularized genre until the early nineteenth century. It was at this time that the Portuguese court arrived, fleeing the Napoleonic invasion of the Iberian Peninsula, and with it came the establishment of theaters. After the declaration of

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Brazil’s independence from Portugal in 1822 and the advent of Romanticism, historical dramas became more prevalent. The production of such dramas did not cease until the mid- to late-nineteenth century, when there was a hiatus for approximately 60 years. In the twentieth century, historical dramas appear during times of political repression—first in the 1930s with the establishment of the Estado Novo under Getúlio Vargas, and later in the 1960s after the military coup d’etat. Soon after the ‘discovery’ of Brazil in 1500, the Portuguese began to catechize and convert the Native population to Roman Catholicism. One of the principal ways in which they attempted to do this was through the vehicle of theater. Jesuit priests wrote and performed autos, or one-act plays, written in Tupi, Portuguese and Spanish to instruct the Native population and illiterate colonists.13 One Jesuit in particular—José de Anchieta—composed autos to spread the Christian faith; among his many autos, constructed under the inspiration of Gil Vicente and written with the blessing and encouragement of his superior Padre Manuel de Nóbrega, are Auto de Santo Iago (1564) (Act of Saint Iago), Auto representado na Festa de São Lourenço (1583) (Act Performed on the Feast of Saint Laurence) and Na Vila de Vitória (1586) (In Village of Victory). Anchieta was known for his innovation in both the material and presentation of his autos. Adapting the drama to the needs of his audience, he molded and influenced the attitudes of his public. Anchieta insisted upon combining current historical figures with religious and allegorical characters. Apparently, he was the first playwright in Latin America to use the auto extensively as a political tool to change governmental attitudes and prejudices. In this manner he aroused public opinion against traitors of the government and warring Indian chieftains. (Quackenbush 31)

Anchieta, who arrived as a young priest in 1553, did much to spread the Christian faith and establish Portuguese sovereignty in Brazil through the vehicle of his autos. During the next two hundred years theater in Brazil, including the historical drama, failed to develop extensively. Some comédias were performed, having been brought over by the Spanish during their occupation of Portugal and her colonies between 1580 and 1640. At the end of the eighteenth century operas were performed in casas de comédia (houses of comedy) or casas de ópera (opera houses).


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According to Albuquerque, these were small, modest playhouses offering little in the way of comfort and for the most part featuring adaptations of Molière, Calderón, Goldini, and Metastasio, often directed by immigrant impresarios, and performed by mulattoes who were not embarrassed by what was then a highly disreputable activity. (“The Brazilian Theatre up to 1900” 109)

The casas de comédia and the casas de ópera were located in many of the larger cities in eighteenth-century Brazil and sometimes hosted performances by foreign companies as well (Albuquerque, “The Brazilian Theatre up to 1900” 110). In the beginning of the nineteenth century, however, a Brazilian theatrical tradition quickly developed, and historical themes were some of the first topics explored by playwrights. One of the major factors leading to the development of Brazilian theater was the arrival of the Portuguese court. Fearing the imminent invasion of Napoleon’s troops, the court fled to Brazil in 1808; there they set up residence in Petrópolis, outside the city of Rio de Janeiro. The royal family assisted with the construction of the first theater, the Real Teatro de São João, by architect Fernando José de Almeida (?–1829) in 1813. In succeeding decades, theatrical activity expanded in large part because of the work of one man: João Caetano dos Santos (1808–1863). João Caetano was an actor, director, and theater promoter who starred in the first post-Independence Brazilian play, O príncipe amante de liberdade ou a independência da Escócia (The Prince Who Loved Liberty or the Independence of Scotland), in 1833. There is uncertainty as to the authorship of the play, though some scholars attribute it to Camilo José do Rosário Guedes (Cafezeiro and Gadelha 116). O príncipe amante de liberdade ou a independência da Escócia treated the subject and was analogous to the Brazilian declaration of independence from Portugal in 1822. Just as in Portugal, in the next few decades of the nineteenth century Romanticism in Brazil stimulated an interest in the past. Yet the past that the early Brazilian Romantics wrote about was that of Medieval Europe with its tales of chivalry and knights in armor— experiences totally foreign to Brazil. Only later did playwrights attempt to construct a Brazilian historical past in their plays. One of the first Brazilian Romantic playwrights was Domingos José Gonçalves de Magalhães (1811–1882). He wrote a historical drama entitled Antônio José, ou o poeta e a Inquisição (Antônio José, or the

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Poet and the Inquisition) (1838) about the aforementioned eighteenthcentury New Christian playwright. Magalhães composed the drama in Brussels while traveling through Europe; it was presented as a play at the Teatro Constitucional Fluminense in Rio de Janeiro on March 13, 1838. Though it was meant to be a Brazilian story with a nationalistic theme, there was some controversy regarding it because Antônio José da Silva was born in Brazil but wrote his plays in Portugal. Magalhães’s plays, including Olgiato (1841), “avoid the national past, be it the pre-Conquest days or the struggle for independence during the colonial period” (Albuquerque, “The Brazilian Theatre up to 1900” 113). Magalhães typically privileged European rather than Brazilian history. A number of Brazilian Romantic novelists and poets tried their hand at playwriting or adapted previously written novels into dramas. Some were more successful than others; among the more unsuccessful was Antônio Gonçalves Dias (1823–1864). This prolific author—justly famous as a poet—wrote four historical dramas. These plays—Patkull (1843), Beatriz Cenci (1844), Leonor de Mendonça (1847) and Boabdil (1847)—are all set in foreign countries. Of the four, Leonor de Mendonça is considered to be the most well written in its portrayal of the tragic love affair of the Dukes of Bragança, Jaime and Leonor, during the sixteenth century. In writing this play, Gonçalves Dias was influenced by Almeida Garrett, who brought out Frei Luís de Sousa for the stage in 1844. After his unsuccessful attempts at convincing producers to stage Leonor de Mendonça, Gonçalves Dias focused on his poetry (Albuquerque, “The Brazilian Theatre up to 1900” 114).14 A Brazilian poet who achieved success in both drama and poetry was Antônio Frederico de Castro Alves (1847–1871). Castro Alves was an avowed abolitionist who also wrote a number of poems dedicated to the cause. His single, though noteworthy, collection of lyrical poetry was As Espumas Flutuantes (1870) (Floating Foam). Castro Alves, who died at the age of 24 from tuberculosis, wrote the play Gonzaga ou A Revolução de Minas (1862) (Gonzaga or the Minas Revolution) about the Mineira Conspiracy, or Inconfidência mineira, of 1789 (Bosi 132). As inflamado defensor de abolição da escravatura, o poeta quis demonstrar, na peça, sua fundamental necessidade histórica como complemento da independência (Cacciaglia 52).


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[fierce defender of abolition the poet wanted to demonstrate, in the play, its strong historical necessity as a complement of independence].

For Castro Alves, the history of the predecessors of an independent Brazil was important to his own campaign for the abolition of slavery. Luís Antônio Burgain (1812–1877) wrote numerous historical plays, including Fernando Vieira ou Pernambuco libertado (Fernando Vieira or Pernambuco Liberated), staged in the São Pedro Theater in 1843. The play had a nationalistic overtone and appealed to the audience of the day. “O drama atendia ao apelo que estava nos ares brasileiros de então, em prol de uma dramaturgia nacional”(Hessel 49). [The drama listened to the appeal that was in the Brazilian air at that time, on behalf of a national drama]. Burgain was criticized for his treatment of the past but explained in the preface that he did not alter the truthfulness of the events presented: Quanto ao aspecto histórico, resta-nos dizer que eu não alterei a verdade histórica nos acontecimentos principais; e que todos os rasgos de bravura e patriotismo que comemorei são fundados em fatos (Hessel 49–50). [As to the historical aspect, it should be said that I did not alter the historical truth of the principal events; and that all of the brave and patriotic deeds I commemorated are based on facts].

Burgain was interested in promoting patriotism and did not feel that he had tampered with historical facts. The playwright did not restrict himself to Brazilian history, but also wrote a number of plays about European history, such as O mosteiro de Sant’Iago (The Monastery of Sant’Iago) about Medieval Iberia, Glória e infortúnio ou a morte de Camões (Gloria and Misforfune or the Death of Camões) (1841) and Luís de Camões (1849). José Martiniano de Alencar (1829–1877), considered to be Brazil’s greatest nineteenth-century “Indianist,” wrote a number of novels and dramatic adaptations about historical Native populations in Brazil, including O Guarani (1857), Iracema (1865), and Ubirajara (1874). He also authored a pair of abolitionist plays: Mãe (Mother), a tragedy performed in 1860, and O demônio familiar (The Demon Familiar), a comedy presented in 1857 and published in 1858. In 1875 Alencar wrote O Jesuíta, a historical drama about the expulsion of the Jesuits in 1759. O herói da ação é justamente um jesuíta, que sonha, com palavras proféti-

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Metaphors of Oppression in Lusophone Historical Drama cas, um Brasil independente, no qual possam fundir-se, juntamente com os índios, todas as raças perseguidas da Europa para formar um novo grande país e nele encontrar a liberdade. (Caccaglia 65) [The hero is a Jesuit who dreams, in prophetic words of an independent Brazil, where the Indians could blend with all the persecuted races of Europe to make a great new country and there find freedom].

There were many problems associated with the production of O Jesuíta. First, João Caetano was supposed to play the lead role but later backed out. Then the Conservatório Dramático “deemed the play unacceptable” (Albuquerque 118). In the end, O Jesuíta only ran three days, and after its closing, Alencar did not pursue theater. Agrário de Menezes, Luigi Vincenzo de Simoni, Manuel de Macedo, and Francisco Pinheiro Guimarães were other Brazilian Romantic playwrights who used historical themes in their dramas. Agrário de Menezes (1834–1863) wrote Calabar (1858) about the famed seventeenth century traitor in Pernambuco. This play was a precursor to Calabar: o elogio da traição (1974), analyzed in the present study (Chapter Four). Two other historical dramas by Menezes were Bartolomeu de Gusmão (1865-posthumous) and O dia da Independência (1861) (Independence Day). Luigi Vincenzo de Simoni (1792–1881), born in Italy, spent a great deal of time in Brazil. He wrote Marília de Itamaracá (1835), based upon a Pernambucan legend from the time of Dutch colonization (Cacciaglia 54). Manuel de Macedo (1820–1882)—author of the popular novel A moreninha (1844)(The Little Dark One)—also wrote 20 plays, including O primo da Califórnia (1855) (The Cousin from California). He wrote a drama about Antônio da Silva by the same title in 1880 (Cacciaglia 60–61). Francisco Pinheiro Guimarães (1832–1875) authored O desembarque de Pedro Álvares Cabral, presented on December 22 in 1867 (Cacciaglia 65). Goulart de Andrade composed Os Inconfidentes in 1910 (Cacciaglia 93). And Afonso Arinos (1868–1910)—best known for his regionalist short stories—wrote O contratador de diamantes (The Diamond Contractor) about Minas Gerais during the eighteenth century (Cacciaglia 93). From the turn of the century until the end of the 1930s the historical drama was not a popular form of theater in Brazil, though the comedy of manners (comédia de costumes), along with musical operetas, melodrama, and vaudeville (revista), did contain some historical elements. Flora Sussekind explains how the revista shows


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reported what had taken place in the preceding year: A revista do ano...perseguiu vários impossíveis. O primeiro e mais óbvio é a tentativa de condensar num único espetáculo, cujo estréia se dava em geral nos últimos meses do ano, os principais acontecimentos, os novos hábitos, as transformações urbanas sobretudo na Capital durante o periódo que findava. Tratava-se, pois, de espacializar a História, de torná-la análoga a uma mutação teatral, de dar-lhe a curta duração do instante. (7) [The annual review...attempted several impossible feats. The first and most obvious was the attempt to condense into a single spectacle, which generally opened toward the end of the year, the main events, the new customs, and all the urban transformations (especially in the capital) during the period that was coming to an end. It was an attempt, then, to spatialize history, to make it analogous to a change of scenery, to give it the brief duration of an instant].

The revista shows included music and dance and were Brazilian predecessors to the musicals of the 1960s and 1970s. According to George, “The comedy of manners genre proved to be a rich source of inspiration for successive generations of comic authors, but by the 1930s what was once innovative and satirical had become tired and merely formulaic” (George 2).15 The comedy of manners did not use distant historical themes but instead focused on humorous depictions of contemporary everyday life. During the 1920s and early 1930s, the Brazilian Modernist movement tended to focus on genres other than theater, though one of its major participants, Oswald de Andrade, wrote O Rei da Vela in 1933.16 At the end of the 1930s, however, historical themes reappeared in Brazilian theater. Two playwrights of the time were Viriato Correa (1884–1967), who wrote Marquesa de Santos (1938), and Raimundo Magalhães Jr. (1907–1982), author of Carlota Joaquina (1939). The latter was staged lavishly with muitos vestidos de baile, muitas fardas, muitos figurantes, muitas personalidades e muitos episódios conhecidos desde os bancos escolares—algo, em suma, com que encher os olhos e não apenas os ouvidos dos espectadores. (Prado 34) [many ballroom gowns, uniforms, figures, personalities and episodes known to every schoolchild—something, in short, that would fill the eyes and not just the ears of the spectators].

The play Carlota Joaquina was highly entertaining because of its colorful presentation rather than its historical accuracy. Other plays of

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the period which included historical elements were Iaiá Boneca (1938) (Iaiá the Doll) and Sinhá Moça Chorou (1940) (The Young Miss Cried), both by Ernani Fornari (1899–1964). Though history was an element in these plays, it consisted more of a backdrop for love stories than a well examined element. According to Décio de Almeida Prado: A parte política (a maioridade de D. Pedro II, a Revolução Farroupilha) servia de pano de fundo patriótico para esses verdadeiros romances de mocinha, simpáticos, tão sentimentais quanto seus nomes indicam, contemporâneos pelo espírito da Moreninha de Macedo, nos quais a escravaria, elemento indispensável da cor local...(Prado 35) [the political part (the majority of D. Pedro II, the Farroupilha Revolution) served as the patriotic backdrop for these girls’ romance novels, likeable, as sentimental as their names indicate, contemporaries in spirit of Macedo’s Moreninha, in which slavery [was], an indispensible element of local color].

The historical plays of this period had a patriotic bent and the historical setting served to facilitate the romantic plots. Though these plays did not challenge the view of history in drama, George notes that “the 1930s historical dramas brought some limited progress to stagecraft by making the spectacle broader and more flexible” (George 4). One play of the period that predates the types of historical dramas studied in this book is Tiradentes, staged by the Olga Delorges Company in 1939. Tiradentes, one of the conspirators executed by the Portuguese during the Inconfidência mineira, the Mineira Conspiracy of the late eighteenth century, is considered one of Brazil’s chief heroes. The play about his life may have been a vehicle through which the theatrical company indirectly critiqued Getúlio Vargas’s regime. Vargas, who came to power in the 1930s, had imposed censorship on theater; by performing a drama about a figure who “has long been a national symbol of struggle against tyranny,” the play avoided censorship (George 4). The 1940s ushered in a new era of theater in Brazil and the staging of several historical dramas. In Rio de Janeiro, the group “Os Comediantes” staged productions that were highly innovative for the period. This was due in great part to the collaboration of Polish émigré and theater director Zbigniew Ziembinski (1908–1978). He brought with him new staging and lighting techniques, which he used in the performance of Nelson Rodrigues’s (1912–1980) Vestido de Noiva (The Bridal Gown). This play, which opened at the Teatro


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Municipal in Rio on December 28, 1943, featured a multi-leveled stage never used before in Brazil and inspired new approaches to the theater. The playwright Nelson Rodrigues would write numerous plays that, though not strictly historical in nature, strongly influenced the development of Brazilian drama.17 Another theater company that presented numerous stage productions was the TBC, or Teatro Brasileiro de Comédia in São Paulo. This company was founded in 1948 by the Italo-Brazilian Franco Zampari (1898–1966).18 Though the TBC was not known specifically for historical dramas, one playwright associated with it—Jorge Andrade (1922–1984)—wrote several plays with historical themes. Andrade depicted the decline of the coffee boom in rural São Paulo in a series of plays, including A Moratória (1954) (The Moratorium). Set between 1929 and 1932, this play links the demise of the coffee industry with family disintegration. Another play, O Telescópio (1960) (The Telescope), portrays the feud between children over the inheritance left by their deceased father. His ten-play cycle on the demise of the São Paulo rural aristocracy was titled Marta, a Árvore e o Relógio (Marta, the Tree and the Clock) and published in 1970 with some revisions.19 According to Albuquerque: Infused with the traditions of Andrade’s native state—the playwright himself was a descendant of rich coffee planters—the São Paulo Cycle is a vividly re-created panorama of a particular time (from late eighteenth to mid-twentieth centuries), place (the mostly rural state of São Paulo), and circumstance (origin, heyday, and decadence of the rural oligarchy in the course of several generations). (“The Brazilian Theatre in the Twentieth Century”, 291)

Though Andrade does not identify specific historical figures in his dramas, his work is historical nonetheless for portraying a recent period of profound change in Brazilian economic history. Historical themes became more prevalent in Brazilian theater following the 1964 coup d’etat. The theater company most interested in staging historical dramas was the Teatro de Arena. Founded in 1953 by José Renato and later joined by Augusto Boal (b. 1931), Gianfrancesco Guarnieri, and Oduvaldo Vianna Filho (1936–1974), the Teatro de Arena went through a number of stages in its development. The innovative theater-in-the-round company first presented foreign classics such as Tennessee Williams’s plays, than “Brazilianized” versions of them, and finally works specifically by

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Brazilian playwrights. According to Augusto Boal: This phase coincided with political nationalism, with the flourishing of industry in São Paulo, with the foundation of Brasília, with the euphoria of prizing highly everything that is national. As this time the Bossa Nova and the New Cinema were also born. (Boal, Theatre of the Oppressed 162)

Teatro de Arena was greatly influenced by Bertolt Brecht and viewed theater as a didactic device to educate the masses as to the reality about themselves. BERTOLT BRECHT AND THEATER

B

recht (1898–1956) was both theorist and playwright and had a tremendous impact on twentieth century theater worldwide. Over his lifetime he was involved in various forms of theater—from Expressionist drama to his Epic theater (Counsell 79). Brecht’s ideology was very much a part of his theater and he tried to “present a Marxist-based analysis of social relations” in his work (Counsell 80). Marx, it will be remembered, believed that society was based on economics and the divisions between the classes. He theorized that the ruling class subjugated the lower classes by owning the means of production and postulated that eventually the capitalistic society which existed at the time would evolve into a communist one; this would happen when “disparate forces collide and struggle against one another” in the form of a dialectic (Counsell 80). Brecht, in turn, was interested in breaking down the existent bourgeois nature of theater, which did not reveal the underlying socioeconomic forces at odds, transforming it to “show his audiences the true nature of society, thereby empowering them to change it” (Counsell 81). In order to do this, Brecht developed a new form of theater, which he labeled Epic theater. Epic theater was intended to elicit a critical rather than sympathetic response from the audience. “The essential point of [E]pic theater is perhaps that it appeals less to the feelings than to the spectator’s reason” (Willet 23). Brecht’s Epic theater was influenced by collage from Cubist artists such as Picasso and photomontage from the Berlin Dada group (Counsell 82). Brecht employs montage techniques at many levels of his practice, but his work differs from most of the above in that it seeks to provoke a dialectic; by showing ideas/images in contradiction, Brecht attempts to represent the collision and interaction of forces in society itself...Whereas in realism the


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story develops linearly according to a notion of dramatic ‘growth’, in Epic theatre it was to proceed in montage-like leaps, juxtaposing this scene against the next, one ‘moment’ against the opposite. (Counsell 82–83)

Brecht’s Epic theater differed from the theater that preceded it in its depiction of contradictory scenes and images. This was in line with the playwright’s political intentions, questioning the status quo, the public, and provoking a reconsideration of society and its values. Brecht devised a number of theatrical techniques as part of his Epic theater. One of the more famous was the Verfremdung, or alienation effect (A-effect). The A-effect is a technique of taking the human social incidents to be portrayed and labelling them as striking, something that calls for explanation, is not to be taken for granted, not just natural. The object of this ‘effect’ is to allow the spectator to criticize constructively from a social point of view. (Willet 125)

The A-effect is achieved by using signs and other seemingly distracting methods that break the spectators’ concentration on the “reality” onstage, causing them to view the performance more objectively. Another way in which Brecht sought to create a more “objective” theater was through the use of film and music. For Brecht “the film was a new, gigantic actor that helped to narrate events. By means of it documents could be shown as part of the scenic background, figures and statistics” (Willet 78). Film projections incorporated material that the playwright wanted the spectators to consider while viewing the stage performance. Music was also used in an entirely different fashion from earlier theater; instead of being added to merely entertain, the lyrics of songs brought up serious social and political issues. In The Threepenny Opera (1928), for example, the musical pieces “had the immediacy of a ballad, (and) were of a reflective and moralizing nature” (Willet 85). Another technique developed by Brecht was that of Gestus, an encoding gesture that embodied social relations. Brecht believed that the gestures that actors made, both subtle ones like facial expressions and more obvious ones, such as in arm movements, represented social interactions and class distinctions (Counsell 86). ‘Gest’ is not supposed to mean gesticulation: it is not a matter of explanatory or emphatic movements of the hands, but of overall attitudes. A lan-

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Metaphors of Oppression in Lusophone Historical Drama guage is gestic when it is grounded in a Gest and conveys particular attitudes adopted by the speaker towards other men. (Willet 104)

With Gestus, movements onstage took on an entirely different meaning, for they revealed socioeconomic and political attitudes. How an actor stood and what s/he did with her/his body divulged information regarding her/his social class. Brecht placed great emphasis on the didactic possibilities of theater. He was convinced that audiences needed to be taught and that theater was “a means of teaching and transforming his society” (Willet 75). He devised Lehrstücke or ‘instruction pieces’ for audiences to learn from, for his ultimate goal was that they change society. For the German playwright, “the learning play is essentially dynamic; its task is to show the world as it changes (and also how it may be changed)” (Willet 79). The Lusophone dramatists studied in this thesis used the premise of Brecht’s Lehrstücke plays to teach contemporary audiences about serious issues such as war and dictatorship. In addition to specific techniques such as the A-effect and Gestus, Brechtian theater presented types of characters in new ways. One such character is the heroic figure found in traditional Aristotelian theater. The heroic character who embodies positive and virtuous qualities is not found in Brechtian theater. In her/his place there is the “anti-hero” whose actions are contradictory and/or negative. Martin Esslin explains that “Brecht’s plays conspicuously lack positive heroes...the good characters are invariably crushed and defeated” (Esslin 153). The reason for the scarcity of positive characters is that Brecht intended to persuade the audience to be critical of capitalist society (Esslin 153). The “anti-hero” does this by acting in ways unbecoming of a hero. For example, in Life of Galileo (1943), Brecht depicts Galileo in a manner that few would expect—instead of standing behind his scientific discoveries, he recants them and also treats those around him poorly. Brecht had a great deal of influence on Brazilian theater. Brazilian artists adapted or “brazilianized” his work as well as experimented with his techniques. Augusto Boal, a playwright and director studied in this book, developed a staging method that was greatly influenced by Brecht. Called the Sistema Coringa, or “Joker Method”, it involved the participation of various actors playing multiple roles, including a particular character who would interact with the audience mem-


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bers by questioning them and the onstage actors (Boal 252). The coringa (“joker”) would question and challenge the audience to consider what was taking place in the drama. Through the Coringa system Boal wanted to “change the people—’spectators,’ passive beings in the theatrical phenomenon—into subjects, into actors, transformers of the dramatic action” (Boal 122). The spectator or audience would no longer merely watch the performance but participate in the action. This would reverse the traditional relationship between the audience and the actors and create a dialogue in which the two parties could share the performance. The creation of dialogue comes in part from Paulo Freire’s work in Pedagogy of the Oppressed. Freire argued that only through dialogue could true communication and learning develop. This differs somewhat from Brechtian theater, in which the audience still maintained its traditional role as spectators. Though Boal mentions that there is no specific coringa character in Arena conta Zumbi (Arena tells about Zumbi), there is a Cantador or narrator played by multiple actors. My book examines a character named the Cavaleiro de Oliveira in the Portuguese play O Judeu who is similar to the coringa. Boal and other Arena members were committed to creating a new type of theater to promote the group’s left-wing political views. Among the plays presented by Arena that were historical in nature were Arena conta Zumbi (1965) (Arena tells about Zumbi) and Arena conta Tiradentes (1967) (Arena tells about Tiradentes). The first play, analyzed in depth in the present study (chapter three), is about the seventeenth-century maroon community Palmares and is set in musical format. The second treats the story of Tiradentes using a Lehrstücke model (George 51). One of the playwrights who initially worked with Arena and employed historical elements in his dramas was Oduvaldo Vianna Filho. Vianninha, as he is commonly known in Brazil, was the author of many plays, including Quatro quadras de terra (1964) (Four Squares of Earth) and Se correr o bicho pega, se ficar o bicho come (1966) (If You Run, The Animal Will Get You; If You Stay, He’ll Eat You). In Papa Highirte (1968), Vianninha writes about an anonymous Latin American dictator. Rasga Coração (1974) (Torn-Out Heart)—Vianninha’s last, and according to some, best work—recreates the period of the early Vargas regime (ca. 1930). In this drama the relationship between a father and son is examined in respect to

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generational political beliefs. Rasga coração is divided into two acts, with four scenes in the first and five in the second. Aside from the drama itself, there are additional sections in the appendix, including one on slang and another on jokes from the period. Though it has a strong historical component, Rasga coração is not included in this dissertation because it deals with more recent history through the eyes of fictional characters. My study focuses exclusively on specific historical events of the more distant past. Another theater group of the time was Oficina, founded in 1958 by José Celso. Though it did not stage many historical dramas, it left a mark on the Brazilian theatrical movement with plays such as Andorra (1964), about the Nazi persecution of the Jews. The play “was taken by many to be the first theatrical response, albeit somewhat allegorical, to the military dictatorship and its anti-Communist witch hunt” (George 62). Another drama with historical elements, presented in translation by Oficina in 1968, was Bertolt Brecht’s Galileu Galilei (1943). This play drew a parallel between the repression of ideas during the Renaissance period and the modern era and was fitting both at the time it was written by Brecht in the 1940s and when it was performed in Brazil (George 64). In the book Brecht no Brasil: Experiências e Influências, Sábato Magaldi describes his amazement at how Galileu opened on the same day that the most repressive legislation of the military regime was announced: A estréia me trouxe particular alegria, por reafirmar os valores da razão, numa data particularmente fatídica para a nossa história—13 de dezembro de 1968, quando a ditadura militar impôs o Ato Institucional n.0 5. (225) [The opening night brought me particular happiness, because it reaffirmed the value of reason, at an especially fateful date in our history—December 13, 1968, when the military dictatorship imposed the Institutional Act No. 5].

Like many of Brecht’s plays performed in Brazil, Galileu was “Brazilianized”—at the end of the drama, José Celso included a Carnaval scene. A playwright who initially began writing with the TBC is Alfredo Dias Gomes (b. 1922). Dias Gomes wrote numerous plays, including O pagador de promessas (1960) (The Promise Keeper) and O Santo Inquérito (1966) (The Holy Inquestion), the latter analyzed in the next chapter. Another of his dramas with strong historical elements is Dr.


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Getúlio, sua vida e sua glória (1968) (Dr. Getúlio, His Life and Glory) about Brazilian dictator Getúlio Vargas. The drama uses the life and death of Vargas as the backdrop of a power struggle within a samba school. It is not included in this book on historical drama because it treats very recent history. Among Brazilian playwrights who incorporated history into their works are the authors of the play Calabar: o elogio da traição (1974) (Calabar: In Praise of Treason): Francisco (Chico) Buarque de Hollanda and Ruy Guerra. Chico Buarque is best known as a musician and writer, having authored over two hundred musical titles as well as numerous poems and novels (Perrone 81). Buarque has made an important contribution to Brazilian theater as well by composing the musical settings for João Cabral de Mello Neto’s Morte e Vida Severina (1965) (The Life and Death of Severino) and his own Roda Viva (1967—a two-act musical comedy) (Living Wheel) and coauthoring Gota d’Água (1975) (Drop of Water) and Ópera do Malandro (1978) (The Trickster’s Opera). In “Dissonance and Dissent: The Musical Dramatics of Chico Buarque” Charles Perrone explains: [F]or textual, compositional, performative or historical reasons, each of the major dramatic productions with which Buarque has been involved was a significant moment in the trajectory of the theatre during the military dictatorship of 1964–1985, whose repressive and censorial tactics so adversely affected performance arts in Brazil. (Perrone 81)

Buarque was involved in the development of a crucial period in Brazilian theater and stood up as a strong critic of the military regime. The carioca musician and author has been called “the conscience of an entire generation” for speaking out against political and economic repression in Brazil. Ruy Guerra (b. 1931) is a native of Mozambique and was involved in the movement against Portuguese colonialism in Africa. In 1950 he was arrested by the PIDE and after his release went to Paris to study film at the IDHEC. In 1958 he journeyed to Brazil, where he became associated with the Cinema Novo movement of Brazilian filmmakers along with Joaquim Pedro de Andrade, Carlos Diegues, Glauber Rocha, and Nelson Pereira dos Santos. Guerra has directed five films, including “Os Cafajestes” (1962), “Os Fuzis” (1964), “Sweet Hunters” (1969), “Os Deuses e os Mortos” (1971), and “A Queda”(1977). He has also worked as a lyricist for Milton

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Nascimento, Francis Hime, Marcos Valle, and Chico Buarque. As in Portugal, the development of the Brazilian historical drama shows outside influences, especially that of its former colonizer. Political events such as the declaration of independence from Portugal and the rise of authoritarian regimes also spurred the production of dramas with historical themes. Censorship likewise played an important role in the writing and performance of plays, whether historical or not. ANGOLAN HISTORICAL DRAMA

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he production of historical dramas closely coincides with the establishment of a theatrical tradition in Angola. Before independence from Portugal in 1975, theatrical activity in Angola was limited. After independence, the production of plays has expanded and several historical dramas have been written and performed. In O teatro angolano hoje (Angolan Theater Today) Mena Abrantes notes that there have been several historical plays written in Angola including Njinga, a rainha da união (Njinga, Queen of the Union), by an anonymous author, about the famous queen who defied the European invaders, and Kakila by Lobão (Correira Domingos), which portrays the fight over territory in the Kikongo region of Angola before the arrival of the Portuguese. The two Angolan playwrights who have written the most acclaimed historical dramas are Pepetela and José Mena Abrantes. Pepetela is the pen name and nom de guerre of Artur Pestana born in Benguela, Angola, in 1942. Winner of the 1997 “Prêmio Camões” and author of numerous works including the novels As aventuras de Ngunga (1976) (The Adventures of Ngunga), Manua Puó (1978), Mayombe (1979), O cão e os caluandas (1985) (The Dog and the Caluandas), Yaka (1985), Lueji, o nascimento dum império (1990) (Lueji, The Birth of an Empire), A geração da utopia (1992) (The Utopian Generation), O desejo de Kianda (1995) (Kianda’s Desire), Parábola do cágado velho (1996) (Parable of the Old Turtle), and the drama, A corda (1980) (The Rope), Pepetela has a fascination with Angolan history and its link to the present day. Many of his literary pieces trace characters through the decades and centuries. Examples of this include Yaka, in which a statue is passed on from generation to generation; Lueji, o nascimento dum império, in which a young ballerina has ties to the legendary Angolan queen Nzinga; and A


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geração da utopia, which explores the sentiments of a group of revolutionaries before and after independence. In all of Pepetela’s works there is a vision of a harmonious nation in which the painful colonial past, though not forgotten, is surpassed and a new, more unified Angola is created. This theme is present in A revolta da casa dos ídolos (The Revolt of the House of Idols) and will be discussed at greater length in chapter III. The second playwright, José Manuel Reio Mena Abrantes, was born in 1945 in Malanje, Angola. He studied Germanic Languages at the Faculdade de Letras da Universidade de Lisboa. Since 1975 he has been a journalist and is currently Press Secretary to the President of Angola. Abrantes has been active in theater groups including Tchinganje and Xilenga Teatro. In 1986 he won the Prémio Sonangol de Literatura for Ana, Zé e os escravos (Ana, Zé and the Slaves); he is one of Angolan theater’s major proponents and critics, and in 1994 co-authored O teatro angolano hoje (Angolan Theater Today), describing the development of theater in that country. Like Pepetela, Abrantes is keenly interested in Angolan history; he has written yet another play entitled Sequeira, Luís Lopes ou o mulato dos prodígios (1993) (Sequeira, Luís Lopes or the Mulatto of the Prodigals) about the death of a famous Angolan official in the seventeenth century. The Lusophone African historical drama can be understood in the context of Sub-Saharan Africa theater as a whole. Many of the same circumstances confronted the Lusophone playwrights both before and after independence, though in the case of Lusophone Africa the situation was more difficult due to the civil war that immediately erupted after the declaration of independence in 1975. In general, the theater of Africa grew out of movements to defeat European colonialism and survive the post-colonial aftermath. History was a theme used to galvanize African audiences against the European oppressor and later used by governments to promote their concept of nationhood. Some playwrights have used drama to critique these same governments. There are many examples of pre-independence Anglophone African dramatic production, including one radio play. In 1957 Andreya Masiye, an African education officer and producer at the Central African Broadcasting station in Northern Rhodesia, wrote and aired the program “Kazembe and the Portuguese” (published as The Lands of Kazembe). This radio show was meant

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Metaphors of Oppression in Lusophone Historical Drama to explore Central African history and explain it in dramatic form to a wide audience. Masiye is one of many examples of authors in the period immediately preceding and following independence who used history plays as a cultural correlative of nationalist sentiments. (Kerr 29)

The play is about the 1798 expedition of Francis de Lacerda from the Indian Ocean to the Atlantic, and Masiye used an English translation of Journey to the Lands of Kazembe, Lacerda’s diary. The play caused a great deal of controversy due to its multi-racial cast and African author (Kerr 30). In Nigeria, a number of playwrights have used history in their works. One of the first was Chief Hubert Ogunde (1916–90), a Nigerian musician and playwright, who founded the Ogunde Theatre. He is considered by many to be the father of Nigerian and contemporary Yoruba theatre. His plays were banned by the colonial authorities because they were considered a threat to colonial rule. These plays include Tiger’s Empire (1946), Strike and Hunger (1946), and Bread and Bullet (1950) (Dunton 76). After independence, Ogunde’s plays used history as a critique of the African regime in power. One play in particular, Yoruba Ronu (Yorubas Think) (1963), used history as a metaphor for the present day. This play treats a nineteenthcentury event between Afonja of Ilorin and Alafin of Oyo. “Although the play was based on real historical incidents, the contemporary audiences were quick to take up the play’s modern relevance. The plot was accepted as a thinly disguised allegory about postindependence politics in Nigeria’s Western Region” (Kerr 92). A third Nigerian playwright to make use of history is Ladipo. His history cycle “might have been influenced by Shakespeare’s history plays” (Kerr 98). According to Kerr: As with some of the plays by nineteenth-century European dramatists, African playwrights dramatization of pre-colonial myth and history is meant to nourish the psychic roots of national pride. (115)

In post-colonial society, returning to one’s origins through the portrayal of historical and legendary events helped spur nationalist sentiment. Myth and history were also used by governments to define a national identity that would compensate for the devastating effects of European colonialism. The exploitation of national myth is closely linked to dramatization of history. Nearly every independent African nation’s cultural cadres have attempted to create a major epic-size history play as a way of asserting an


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identity (ravaged by colonialism) through the re-creation of a ‘usable past’. (Kerr 115)

The artists affiliated with the governments in African countries were interested in making a new image of their nations that was built upon the pre-colonial past. In Lusophone African theater, the same mythical and historical elements can be found. Both Abrantes and Pepetela incorporate myth and history as a source of cohesion for a new national identity. The characters portrayed in these African historical dramas tended to focus on the upper classes in traditional African society. [W]ith a few exceptions...the bulk of these heroes are from the ruling classes. They are kings, chiefs, obas, high priests or generals...African literary dramatists have found little interest in presenting heroes representing the sufferings or aspirations of the subaltern classes. Consciously or unconsciously they have re-created ruling-class heroes who would embody qualities of leadership, as a way of dramatizing the problems of unity and consensus in the post-independence nation-state. (Kerr 115)

The post-colonial African regimes were very interested in creating a new identity based upon the older, more traditional society. They wanted to depict strong characters who had resisted the Europeans. This would in turn inspire patriotism. Yet, the division between classes and ethnic groups in the newly independent nations of Africa caused some playwrights to reconsider their portrayal of past heroes. For example, Seydou Badian’s La Mort de Chaka [The Death of Chaka]...is often thought to reflect the power struggles in Nkrumah’s Ghana, and Dadie’s condemnation of the megalomaniac pre-colonial king, Nahoubou I, in Les Voix dans le vent [Voices in the Wind] offers a lesson for many a post-colonial African despot. (Kerr 117)

Inspired by Aimé Césaire’s Tragédie du Roi Christophe (1964) (The Tragedy of King Christophe) about the Haitian Revolution and the despotism that followed, two other African playwrights wrote surreptitiously about dictatorship; they were B.B. Dadié of Senegal and Wole Soyinka of Nigeria. The former wrote Monsieur Thôgô-gnini (1970) while the latter authored A Play of Giants (1985). In A revolta da casa dos ídolos (1980) Pepetela chooses to depict the corruption of priests and kings by the slave trade. He shows how greed can divide the people and lead to despotism and subjugation by outside powers.

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Though there exists to date only a small sampling of Angolan historical dramas, the themes found within them link them to a greater African theatrical tradition. Mythical elements can be found in both Ana, Zé e os escravos (1988) and A revolta da casa dos ídolos (1980), the two plays studied in chapter III of this book. Similarly, the underlying theme of building a new national identity in a unified country is a common theme throughout these works.

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CHAPTER TWO

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Intolerance on Trial in O Santo Inquérito and O Judeu

RELIGIOUS INTOLERANCE AND HISTORICAL DRAMA

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wo Lusophone historical dramas written in 1966 treat the Inquisition as a metaphor for political repression in Brazil and Portugal. O Santo Inquérito by Alfredo Dias Gomes (b. 1922) and O Judeu by Bernardo Santareno (1920–1980) draw a parallel between the persecution of Jews and New Christians during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries and the subjugation of those opposed to twentieth-century Brazilian and Portuguese dictatorships. Playwrights Dias Gomes and Santareno include the trials of historical figures within their dramas to illustrate the similarities between the two time periods. Bernardo Santareno’s drama remakes the investigation of the famed Portuguese playwright António José da Silva, using excerpts of his plays as well as testimony from the actual case. In the Brazilian drama Dias Gomes reconstructs the life of Branca Dias, a legendary Pernambucan (a Northeastern Brazilian state) woman tried and executed by the Inquisition. As a result of their trials and subsequent punishment, Branca Dias and António José da Silva become martyrs for the cause of free expression and liberation from despotism. This in turn serves as an example for the contemporary audience to reconsider the intolerance of the regimes by which they are governed. There are many traits in common between religious intolerance and political repression. Both involve the existence of a dominant

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group that imposes a set standard of beliefs and behavior upon an unpopular minority. Those who deviate from the norm are considered a threat to society, for they hold convictions that set them apart from the general population. This group is then labeled an “other,” repressed and, in some cases, eliminated. The Holocaust provides an extreme example of this form of prejudice and fanaticism as the Jews were at first deemed racially inferior to the German Aryans and depicted as sub-human and dangerous. Posters and other media from the time period show Jews with deformed features and illnesses such as syphilis. In “Plague in Germany, 1939/1989: Cultural Images of Race, Space, and Disease,” Sander L. Gilman argues that Jews were portrayed as ill and sickly to terrify the German population. This in turn stirred public sentiment against them and made it easier for the government to impose sanctions such as the wearing of yellow stars and the dismissal of Jews from their employment. Next, their civil rights were curtailed and assets taken away. In the end the Jews were expunged from society—sent to ghettos and concentration camps for extermination. A parallel to this treatment of outside groups—though by no means a direct analogy—is found in the case of opposition groups in Brazil and Portugal under dictatorship. Individuals in organizations which opposed the government were labeled terrorists and subversives.1 Just as in Nazi Germany, these “outsiders” were portrayed as menacing to the general public. 2 Those affiliated with opposition groups were not allowed to criticize or demonstrate against the regime and many were imprisoned and tortured or simply “disappeared.”3 Lusophone playwrights make a link between religious oppression and political repression by using examples from history both inside and outside of Portugal. Luís de Sttau Monteiro (b. 1926) and José Saramago (b. 1922) both have both written dramas about religious persecution in Germany. As Mãos de Abraão Zacut (1968) (The Hands of Abraham Zacut) treats a Jewish family’s struggle for life during the Holocaust. For Sttau Monteiro, the historical persecution of Jews illustrates the disdain and distrust showed to the “other” in society.4 He expounds: Os judeus foram sempre o alvo principal do ódio das sociedades fechadas, mas não foram, como não são os únicos “outsiders” repudiados pelas comunidades histórica e politicamente ensimesmadas ou pelas classes interessadas em contribuir para o ensimesmamento das suas comunidades. Nesta

O Santo Inquérito and O Judeu

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peça os judeus e os seus perseguidores não passam dum pretexto para se falar de perseguidos e de perseguidores. (Monteiro 12) [Although Jews have always been the main object of hatred in closed societies, they were not, nor are they now, the only outsiders repudiated by historically and politically entrenched communities. In this play, the Jews and their persecutors are no more than a pretext to speak about persecuters and the persecuted].

For Monteiro, the Jews are not the only ones who have suffered at the hands of their neighbors, though as a group they are symbolic of the persecution and ridicule faced by outsiders in a closed society. Writing at a time when the dictatorship established by Salazar was still in control, Monteiro, like Bernardo Santareno, found the persecution of Jews in the Holocaust and the Inquisition analogous to the repression of political dissidents.5 In the play In Nomine Dei (1993) (In the Name of God), José Saramago describes the slaughter of Anabaptists and Roman Catholics in Münster during the sixteenth century. Though this drama was not written during the Salazar era, it still has a resounding message for the contemporary period and draws the link between religious and human intolerance. For Saramago religious oppression is thus symptomatic of greater human prejudice and readers are told in the preface to reconsider their own sentiments with respect to bigotry. Os acontecimentos descritos nesta peça representam, tão-só, um trágico capítulo da longa e, pelos vistos, irremediável história da intolerância humana. Que o leiam assim, e assim o entendam, crentes e não crentes, e farão, talvez um favor a si próprios. (9) [The events described in this play represent only a tragic chapter of the long, and by the looks of it, irremediable history of human intolerance. May it be read understood thus, by believers and non-believers, and perhaps they will do themselves a favor].

Religious oppression is thus symptomatic of greater human prejudice. Readers are told to reconsider their own sentiments with respect to bigotry. For both Santareno and Sttau Monteiro, historical dramas about religious persecution are a plea for tolerance and understanding towards all human beings, regardless of their beliefs. Though the persecution of Jews and Christians in Germany is part of the historical record and known to all, Lusophone audiences can relate more to the historical events which took place in their own countries. This follows Lindenberger’s assertion that,

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Metaphors of Oppression in Lusophone Historical Drama To the degree that a segment of the past is intended to link up with the present-day reality of the audience, the latter’s own national past has a special status among thematic material. (Lindenberger 6)

For this reason, an institution associated with religious persecution which existed in Portugal and Brazil (as well as in other Portuguese colonies such as Goa) has been the subject of many dramas. This institution—the Inquisition—was created in 1231 by Pope Gregory IX of the Roman Catholic Church to root out those who had lapsed in their Catholic faith or belonged to other confessions.6 Two centuries later, in 1478, Pope Sixtus IV sanctioned the Spanish Inquisition, which featured a grand inquisitor who administered the institution. The first grand inquisitor was the Dominican Tomás Torquemada, “who has become the symbol of the inquisitor who uses torture and confiscation to terrorize his victims” (“Inquisition” 328). THE INQUISITION

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n Portugal the Inquisition was established in 1536 by King João III to “combater heresias, isto é, zelar pela pureza da prática da religião católica bem como de seus princípios doutrinários” (Novinsky xiiv). [To combat heresy, that is, to fight for the purity in the practice of Catholicism as well as its principal doctrines]. Only those already baptized could be considered heretics if they practiced confessions or religions other than Roman Catholicism, such as Judaism, Islam, or paganism. In 1541 the cities of Évora, Lisboa, Porto, Coimbra, Tomar and Lamego all had Inquisitional tribunals. In the overseas colonies the Inquisition operated with both a temporary and permanent structure. There were visitações, or “a presença periódica de um Inquisidor...enviado[s] pela Coroa” (Novinsky vix) [visitations, or the periodic visit of an Inquisitor sent by the Crown].7 Whether in Portugal or her colonies, the Inquisition kept a strict vigilance over public and private life until the early ninteenth century.8 As a topic for theater the Inquisition, is fascinating for a number of reasons. In his article “Historical Dramas on the Inquisition and Expulsion,” Ben-Ami Feingold explains: The age of the conversos [converted Jews or New Christians] and the expellees is an excellent subject for drama, since it contains a great deal of dramatic tension. It has its heroes: conversos persecuted by the Inquisition and living in hiding, underground, and “New Christians” with a double, Jewish-Christian, identity in a world of religious fanaticism and political


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struggle. The meeting of the converted Jews, especially those of the second generation, the children of the conversos, with the New Christian world of Spain and Western Europe enables the playwright to home in on essential questions of personal identity and national destiny, and to explore the meaning of the individual’s affiliation with and responsibility to his ethnic group and national tradition. (9)

The Inquisition is a theme that addresses a variety of issues including individual and group reactions to religious intolerance. Feingold, who writes about the subject of the Inquisition in plays authored by Jews before and after the creation of the state of Israel, finds that the persecution of Jews by Spanish and Portuguese Inquisitors is no longer a topic that Israelis are interested in depicting on stage. “The contemporary Israeli playwright shows little interest in historical subjects in general and in the generation of the expulsion and the year 1492 in particular” (26). This may be due to the reluctance of Jews in the modern Jewish state to view themselves as victims of religious persecution or the fact that there have been subsequent and more pressing conflicts that seem more relevant to the Israeli audience. The Inquisition as a dramatic theme is more prominent in places where it actually functioned, and consequently, where there are few Jews living today. In countries such as Mexico, Brazil, and Portugal, numerous plays have been written about this institution.9 In these places the Inquisition is part of the national history and has had a major impact upon the development of the nation. Audiences are familiar with their past and can identify with what is taking place onstage. This is essential when the playwright intends to make a parallel between the current day and the historical event. In their dramatic rendition of the Inquisition, Lusophone dramatists have used a trial play format. According to Lindenberger, the trial is a frequent trope in historical drama and has been found in theater from around the world including Germany and the United States (21). With the historical trial play the playwright can re-create a famous trial as a venue for an audience to contemplate contemporary issues. In many cases, it is not just the historical case being represented but the values and mores of a bygone era. Playwrights are interested in bringing that past to life for the scrutiny of the present generation. With the understanding of all that has occurred since the period in question the audience can question what took place at the time of the

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trial and judge it by contemporary standards. Oftentimes the audience is not in agreement with the original verdict and ends up with a different judgment. Though it has no power to impose a “new” finding or sentence, the audience can reinterpret the issue to which the playwright is alluding. Since the historical drama almost always has some link or connection to the present day, the audience can apply the knowledge gained through the trial process to the contemporary dilemma and act differently from their predecessors. Bertolt Brecht found that historical trial plays provided an ordered setting in which conflict could be played out, much like that of the sports arena. During the play the audience could hear the presentation of evidence and the defense, then come to its own conclusion. In dramas such as Life of Galileo (1938), Mother Courage and Her Children (1938–39), and The Caucasian Chalk Circle (1944), the trials are set in the past but provoke a reconsideration of the socioeconomic and political conditions of Brecht’s own time. Life of Galileo examines the turbulent life of the great scientist and his encounters with the Inquisition. In this play Galileo is an anti-hero for recanting his discoveries and then smuggling his research abroad. Mother Courage and her Children is set in the seventeenth century and depicts the personal and material losses caused by war. The Caucasian Chalk Circle “offered a parable on the equitable use of resources from ancient China as a model for what should happen in Europe after Hitler’s defeat” (Rorrison xxii). Though the playwright makes no mention of the rise of Hitler and fascism in Europe in these plays, an audience of his day would have been able to make the connection between the events taking place in real life and the history portrayed in these dramas. In North American theater, two examples of trial plays that connect the past with events of the present are Inherit the Wind (1955) by Jerome Lawrence and Robert E. Lee and The Crucible (1953) by Arthur Miller. Both dramas were written at the height of the McCarthy era, when the House Committee on Un-American Activities sought to root out suspected Communists. During this time people lived in fear of being labeled Communist and brought before the Congressional Committee, for the consequences were severe: loss of one’s job, blacklisting, and imprisonment. The live hearings broadcast across the nation on television also helped create an atmosphere of terror as people watched the unrelenting question-


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ing of prosecutors and the fearful testimony of the alleged Communists. The playwrights of Inherit the Wind tried to find “a parallel, a parable from history to help bring some light to the present,” and found it in the 1925 Scopes Trial (Woods 3). This trial pitted those defending the teaching of evolution in schools against those who found it sacrilegious. In the play, which is “primarily a courtroom drama,” the intolerance of those who did not want the dissemination of new ideas and perspectives is evident (Woods 6). The teacher who brought Darwin’s theories into the classroom is harassed and shunned before and during the trial. Only after his lawyer successfully argues his case do people of his community lessen their unkindness to him. By portraying this ideological debate, Jerome Lawrence and Robert E. Lee hoped to show how unpopular beliefs and ideas should be tolerated and respected. In The Crucible Arthur Miller re-creates the Salem witch trials of the 17th century. While writing this drama the playwright discovered that one problem remained unyielding: so many practices of the Salem trials were similar to those employed by the Congressional Committees that I could easily be accused of showing history for a more partisan purpose. (162)

Not only were the same methods of interrogation used in both sets of trials but even the type of crime that moved Miller to write his play. Whether it was seventeenth-century Salem or twentiethcentury Washington, DC, Miller found that “the thing at issue is buried intentions—the secret allegiances of the alienated heart, always the main threat to the theocratic mind, as well as its immemorial query” (164). For the playwright it is personally held convictions, whether political or religious, that are considered a crime when deemed dangerous to those in power. Political beliefs are often called into question when there is a dramatic change in government. Arthur Miller postulates that [I]t is only a slight exaggeration to say that, especially in Latin America, The Crucible starts getting produced wherever a political coup appears imminent, or a dictatorial regime has just been overthrown. From Argentina to Chile to Greece, Czechoslovakia, China, and a dozen other places, the play seems to present the same primeval structure of human sacrifice to the furies of fanaticism and paranoia that goes on repeating itself forever as though imbedded in the brain of social man. (164)

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For Miller, a watershed period in a nation’s history often sparks intolerance and repression as those newly in power fear a return to the past. Through presentation of plays about controversial historic trials such as those that took place in Salem, the audience is reminded of the necessity of being on guard so as not to allow such hysteria to recur. A third American trial play adapted from a novel by Harper Lee is yet another example of an author’s attempt to put injustice on trial. In To Kill a Mockingbird (1960) a black man is accused of raping a woman and put on trial before an all-white jury. Despite his obvious innocence and the valiant attempts by the defense attorney, Atticus Finch, Thomas Robinson is found guilty and sentenced to death. Set in the 1930s in a small Alabama town, the trial reveals the deepseated racism in the South. Written at what would become a turning point in American history—the beginning of the civil rights movement—this work sensitized audiences throughout the United States to the harsh reality of race relations. THE TRIAL PLAY AND THE INQUISITION

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he trial play trope is also found in drama about the Holocaust. In his article, “Holocaust Theatre and the Problem of Justice,” Robert Skloot examines how the trial is used to bring the perpetrators of the Holocaust to justice. In The False Witness (1995) playwright Robert M. Krakow employs a revisionist approach to history as Hitler is put on trial for genocide. In another play, George Steiner’s Portage to San Christobal of A.H. (1983) by Christopher Hampton, Adolf Hitler is caught by a group of Israelis in a Brazilian jungle. In this drama the jungle becomes a courtroom in which Hitler defends himself by saying that “the Jews provided his ideology, that they deserved punishment, and that they benefited from the Holocaust through the founding of the State of Israel” (Skloot 21). The trial setting allows both those responsible for the Holocaust and those who were affected by it to attempt to explain the unexplainable and punish the unpunishable. In their portrayal of the Inquisitional trial the Lusophone playwrights re-create the Inquisitional period and tie it to their contemporary era. They do so by including a courtroom setting, réus, or people accused of crimes, a description of their transgressions and


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punishment. Bernardo Santareno and Dias Gomes use performative techniques derived from Bertolt Brecht such as gestus or gestures, film projection and lighting to make the audience ponder what is taking place onstage. Moreover, there are scenes of verbal and physical violence made to shock the audience into the realization that what is being performed in front of them is actually occurring in everyday society. The two dramas vary decidedly in structure and composition. O Judeu is composed of three acts and contains numerous excerpts from various texts, including letters from figures of the time, Inquisitional testimony and António José da Silva’s plays in a collage fashion. The action takes place in a number of locations including Lisbon and Coimbra, where António José da Silva is a law student. Act I begins with an auto-da-fé (an act of faith usually associated with the ritual public burning or other punishment during the Inquisition in which a Padre Pregador (Preacher) attacks the Jews.) The audience is at first addressed as if it were part of the masses watching the event before several actors come onstage to take the role of spectators. Next, the Cavaleiro de Oliveira (Knight of Oliveira) appears as a narrator and comments on the auto-da-fé and the Inquisitional process. Throughout the drama this historical figure who lived in London as an exile explains the similarities between the period being performed and the twentieth century.10 The next few scenes depict how powerful and pervasive the Inquisition is (was) in Portugal. Even the Rei king is afraid to intervene on behalf of a réu, an accused—in the case of António José da Silva. The inquisitors themselves have problems with the unfair system and in a subsequent scene the First Inquisitor describes how disturbed he is by his work as an inquisidor. The Inquisidor-Mor or Head Inquisitor tries to convince him that he is suited for the job. The Cavaleiro de Oliveira then describes how difficult it is for António José da Silva to study law at Coimbra. Because the Inquisition orders him to wear a garment that identifies him as an someone under scrutiny he is tormented by students, especially the fearsome Estudante Pálido (the pale student). At the end of Act I there is another auto-da-fé. Act II begins in the home of Lourença Coutinho, António José da Silva’s mother. Lourença and Leonor, António José’s cousin, are reciting Jewish prayers. António José da Silva arrives and falls in love with his cousin. The Cavaleiro de Oliveira relates that the two will marry and have a child. At the end

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of the act there is a segment from António José da Silva’s Vida do Grande Dom Quixote de La Mancha e do Gordo Sancho Pança. Act III begins with Lourença Coutinho’s nightmare of the destruction of the Jewish people. There are projected images of gas chambers of the Holocaust while a voice reads the names of concentration camps. The household is unnerved. Next, there is an excerpt of the play Esopaida ou Vida de Esopo by António José da Silva. The Cavaleiro tells of others affected by the Inquisition, such as Bartolomeu de Gusmão. Segments from other plays by António José da Silva are shown, including Guerras do Alecrim e Mangerona and Anfitrião ou Júpiter e Alcmena. The Cavaleiro openly makes the connection between the plays and the Inquisition. Near the end of Act III António José is taken away after having been denounced by the Escrava Negra. He is interrogated, tortured, and eventually confesses. In the last scene there is an auto-da-fé in which António José da Silva is led to the pyre as people scream and the Padre Secular describes his sentence. O Santo Inquérito is a two-act play set in 1750 in the state of Paraíba, Brazil. The characters are Branca Dias, her father (Simão Dias), her fiancé Augusto Coutinho, Padre Bernardo, the Visitador do Santo Ofício, a Notário and a Guarda. There are no distinct scenes but rather a change in action signaled by “muda a luz” (change in lighting). Act I begins with the trial of Branca Dias. Padre Bernardo describes Branca’s heretic crimes to the Visitador and the Notário, who later interrogate her about her suspected Jewish practices. Next, there is a flashback to the first meeting of Branca and Padre Bernardo when Branca saved the Padre from drowning. Padre Bernardo is fascinated by the young woman’s opinions about God and religion. This fascination leads him to conclude that Branca needs his help to rid her of heretic beliefs and practices such as bathing in the nude and reading the Bible. After her father Simão is interrogated about the family’s New Christian ancestry, an inquest is ordered and Branca is imprisoned. Act II begins with Branca in prison, wondering what is happening to her. She is interrogated repeatedly by the Visitador and Padre Bernardo. Augusto is also imprisoned and tortured in an attempt to make him testify against Branca. He dies and Branca accuses her father of not trying to save him. At the end of the drama Branca refuses to renounce her beliefs and is sentenced to death. The final scene depicts Branca’s auto-da-fé.


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THE INQUISITIONAL COURTROOM

I

n both of these dramas, the Inquisitional trial is brought to life through the re-creation of the chambers and other physical spaces in which the Inquisition operated. In O Judeu, the stage directions call for an elaborate set. There is a painting of São Domingos, the founder of the Dominican order that administered the Inquisition. There is also the estandarte (banner) of the Santo Ofício—a sword in one hand and an olive branch in another with the inscription, “Misericordia et Justitia” [Mercy and Justice] (Santareno 9). A statue of Christ dying on the cross as well as an altar with lit candles figure prominently on the stage. To the right and left of the stage are plush thrones. Close to the edge of the stage are “dois grandes genuflexórios de banco corrido, dispostos oblíquamente e destinando-se aos réus do auto-da-fé” (Santareno 9). [Two large kneeling benches set up obliquely for the defendants.] With these directions Bernardo Santareno creates a believable Inquisitional chamber that is believable to a twentieth-century audience. The inclusion of the painting of São Domingos, who, through his order, is associated with the Inquisition and the banner of “Misericordia et Justitia” leaves little doubt that the drama is about the Inquisition. In addition to making an explicit reference to the period, Santareno sets the stage for how the various characters will be treated. There is a stark contrast between the comfortable chairs for the inquisidores and the genuflexórios (kneeling benches) for the réus, showing the difference in power between these two groups. In O Santo Inquérito, the stage directions do not call for a specific courtroom setup. Instead, there are various props which can be arranged into different levels. O palco contém vários praticáveis, em diferentes planos. Não constituem propriamente um cenário, mas um dispositivo para a representação, que é completado por uma rotunda. (27) [The stage contains various props on different levels. Strictly speaking they do not constitute scenery, but rather an arrangement for a representation, which is completed by a dome.]

During the drama the characters stand on various planes in relationship to one another. For example, in Act I when the Visitador arrives to declare that all those accused of heresy must tell the truth, he is on a different level than the other characters.

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Metaphors of Oppression in Lusophone Historical Drama O Visitador surge no plano mais elevado, desenrola um edital e lê. Branca, Simão e Augusto, em planos inferiores, escutam atentamente. (Dias Gomes 64). [The Inquisitional authority emerges on the highest level, unravels an edict and reads. Branca, Simão and Augusto, on lower levels, listen attentively.]

The Visitador’s position is clearly higher than that of Branca, Simão and Augusto; this indicates that the Visitador has power over those he will try. Just as in O Judeu, there is inequality between those who interrogate and those who are questioned. Yet in the final scene of O Santo Inquérito Branca rises to the highest plane. It is in this scene that she is executed in an auto-da-fé. Though she is killed for her heretic views, when Branca dies she is on a higher moral ground than Padre Bernardo and the Church. In creating the setting for Branca’s trial, Dias Gomes also uses meaningful sound effects. The stage directions call for background noises such as a “sirene de viatura policial” (Dias Gomes 27) (Police siren). While police sirens did not exist in the eighteenth century, and the inclusion of them in the drama reflects the playwright’s desire to connect the drama with the current day. The sirens are symbolic of the curfews and other forms of repression following the 1964 Brazilian coup. They also inspire fear and are a constant reminder of police surveillance. The second way in which the plays depict the Inquisitional court through the presence of characters with professions who would actually take part in the Inquisition. In O Santo Inquérito, the characters include Padre Bernardo, a Notário, (notary) a Guarda, (guard) and a Visitador do Santo Ofício. In O Judeu there is a Head Inquisitor, two lower ranking inquisitors a notary and the Padre Secular, who serves as the “proclamador das sentenças” (sentence proclaimer) (Santareno 152). There are also background characters such as Familiares do Santo Ofício or “funcionários da Inquisição escolhidos entre os membros da população, incumbidos de espionagem continuada” [Inquisition functionaries chosen from members of the population, and assigned to continuing espionage] (Novinsky vix). By re-creating an Inquisitional courtroom with props and characters, the playwrights take the audience back to the Inquisitional period. In comparison, the stage set-up for O Judeu is more elaborate and historically accurate than that of O Santo Inquérito. Santareno’s drama is more focused on depicting the situation in Portugal than on


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sending a universal message. The set-up of Dias Gomes’s drama, on the other hand, is not specific because he wishes to send a generalized message to the audience. According to Ana Lúcia Almeida Gazolla de García, Dias Gomes does not stress the specific time period of Branca Dias’s trial because he is interested in the universal human truth that can be derived from the events. Staging and the use of time contribute to create an impression of timelessness: The play is visually suspended in time; nothing, on a concrete visual level, relates it to any time period. The use of expressionistic techniques and of light and sound elements all contribute to the creation of an imprecise setting with the intention of suspending the action from its historical moment and setting and emphasizing the universality of the themes that emerge from it. As a result, the events portrayed are seen as timeless, constantly occurring in the history of mankind, and the religious framework is used only as a symbol of any type of persecution that alienates man from society and denies his freedom of thought. (García 108)

By not offering specific cues that depict an eighteenth-century courtroom, Dias Gomes creates a setting that could apply to any historical period. The Brazilian audience’s familiarity with the trial of Branca Dias allows the play to work as historical drama, but the staging gives it further authority to extend beyond the past to the current day as well as to other episodes of oppression. The second essential component of an Inquisitional trial—present in both of the dramas under consideration—are those accused of crimes, or réus. In O Judeu there are many characters who are accused by the Inquisition of various crimes. The main réu is the playwright António José da Silva, known simply as “O Judeu” (The Jew). There is no doubt that he actually lived, for his life is well documented. Born in 1705 in Rio de Janeiro, António José da Silva went to Portugal at the age of eight when his mother was called before the Inquisition. He later studied Law in Coimbra and eventually settled in Lisbon, where he became a playwright. Among his many popular plays are As Guerras do Alecrim e da Manjerona, A Vida do Grande D. Quixote de la Mancha e do Gordo Sancho Pança, and Anfitrião ou Júpiter e Alcmena. António José da Silva married a cousin and had a child before being arrested by the Inquisition in 1737. Two years later he was burned at the stake in an auto-da-fé after being strangled (“Silva” 1022). The Inquisition also implicates and tries António José da Silva’s mother, Lourença Coutinho, and his cousin Leonor. There are also other characters in the drama such as fellow prisoners who

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appear at the auto-da-fé: António Pereira de Sá, accused of being a Lutheran, José Lavareda, a New Christian, and Maria do Rosário, who is accused of talking with the Devil. O Santo Inquérito focuses on the life of Branca Dias and some of her family members. As Dias Gomes explains in the preface “O que sabemos e o que pensamos das personagens,” (what we know or think about the characters) Branca was a real person and not merely a myth. “Parece fora de qualquer dúvida que Branca Dias, realmente, existiu e foi vítima da Inquisição” (Dias Gomes 16). [It seems beyond doubt that Branca Dias, did in fact, exist and was a victim of the Inquisition]. That is not entirely the case. There are scholars such as Anita Novinsky, an expert on the Inquisition in Brazil, who question the existence of Branca Dias.11 Whether she actually lived or not is not an issue for in the play because of the fact that her story is famous. This demonstrates the importance of an incident or personality in a historical drama being well-known. Indeed, “What matters to a modern audience...is not the historical accuracy of the fable, but the fact that, whether historical or mythical, the matter is ‘publicly known’” (Lindenberger 2). Since the story of Branca Dias is recognized throughout Brazil, especially in the Northeast, the audience can relate to her as a defendant in a historical trial drama.12 The other réus who are interrogated by the Santo Inquérito are Branca’s father, Simão Dias, and her fiancé, Augusto Coutinho. The inclusion of these characters in the drama adds to the true-to-life depiction of an Inquisitional process. Calling family members and friends to report before the Inquisition was not uncommon and was actually encouraged. During the first of three interrogation sessions, the Inquisitional authorities asked the suspect if anyone else in the family had been questioned by the Inquisition. This technique was used to elicit names of other possible heretics (Saraiva 61). The names of family members were also extracted during the torture sessions (60). During the military dictatorship in Brazil, the use of torture to gather names of other suspects was a common practice. According to Brasil: Nunca mais (Torture in Brazil), a book documenting hundreds of cases of torture between 1964 and 1979: The suspicion of subversion spread to include the relatives and friends of persons being sought by the military police forces. In the light of the ideology of national security, the enemy was not only the individual person,


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but a network of relationships seen as the potential nucleus of an organization or revolutionary party. (69)

As in the Inquisition, torture was used to make the those accused of any number of crimes against the government talk and implicate others, especially family and friends. In O Judeu and O Santo Inquérito the crime that Branca Dias and António José da Silva are accused of is heresy. During the Inquisition the crime of heresy was a “spiritual” one and as such was investigated differently from more common crimes (Saraiva 19). Once accused, the suspected heretic was brought before a court consisting of inquisitors, attorneys, bailiffs, clerks, and guards. A case was prepared on the basis of denunciations, confessions during interrogations and torture, as well as any complaints from other prisoners or guards (Saraiva 58). The accused was allowed a defense attorney hired by the Inquisition itself,though not one of his or her choosing. He could only argue that the accused did not commit the alleged crimes because of extenuating circumstances or was known for being a good Christian. “A única função era redigir e homologar os factos alegados pelo réu na defesa e nas contraditas” (68). [(The Attorney’s) only function was to write down and ratify the facts alleged by the réu during the defense and rebuttals.] Both dramas are historically accurate in depicting how a case was made against a réu of the Inquisition. First, António José da Silva and Branca Dias and their families are accused of practicing Jewish rites and rituals such as preparing for the Sabbath and not eating pork. In O Santo Inquérito, the Inquisitor asks Branca and Simão on several occasions if they take baths on Fridays. Cleaning on this day was regarded as a preparation for the Jewish Sabbath. In Act I Simão has just taken a bath after a long journey when the (Visitador) arrives and accuses him of witchcraft and practicing Judaism. The exchange between the Notário, the Visitador and Simão reveals the absurd nature of the Inquisition’s actions: VISITADOR. Houve uma denúncia BRANCA. De que nos acusam? VISITADOR. De alguma coisa O Notário e os guardas entram com uma enorme Bacia NOTÁRIO. Senhor visitador! VISITADOR. O que é isso? NOTÁRIO. Uma bacia

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Metaphors of Oppression in Lusophone Historical Drama BRANCA. É pecado ter em casa uma bacia? NOTÁRIO. A bacia contém um líquido SIMÃO. É água NOTÁRIO. Estou vendo que é água...Mas a cor da água O Visitador examina detidamente a água, molha as pontas dos dedos. NOTÁRIO. Vossa Reverendíssima se arrisca...Ninguém sabe o que há nessa água VISITADOR. (Enxuga a mão.) Sim, a cor indica que a água levou algum preparado... NOTÁRIO. Algum pó mirífico para invocação do Diabo! SIMÃO. Vossas Excelências me perdoem, mas o único pó que há aí é o pó das estradas, de vinte léguas no lombo dum burro. VISITADOR. Acabou de tomar banho...hoje, sexta-feira? SIMÃO. Cheguei de viagem, empoeirado... VISITADOR. Também trocou de roupa? SIMÃO. Também, a outra estava imunda. (Dias Gomes 66–67) [VISITADOR. There was an accusation. BRANCA. What are we accused of? VISITADOR. Of something. The Notary and the guards enter with a large bathtub. NOTÁRIO. Gentleman Inquisitor! VISITADOR. What is this? NOTÁRIO. It is a bathtub. BRANCA. Is it a sin to have a bathtub in the house? NOTÁRIO. The bathtub contains a liquid. SIMÃO. It’s water! NOTÁRIO. I see that it is water. But the color of the water... The visitador carefully examines the water, getting the tips of his fingers wet. NOTÁRIO. Your distinguished Reverend is putting himself at risk. No one knows what is in that water! VISITADOR. (Drying his hand) Yes, the color indicates that something is in the water. NOTÁRIO. Some extraordinary powder to invoke the Devil! SIMÃO. If your Excellencies will excuse me, the only powder here is the dust from the highway, from 20 leagues on the back of a burro. VISITADOR. Did you just finish taking a bath...today, is Friday? SIMÃO. I arrived from a trip, dusty.... VISITADOR. You even changed your clothing? SIMÃO. Yes, the old ones were filthy].

Because of an accusation, every action that Simão and his family do is suspect. The Notário and Visitador at first presume that the water in Simão’s bathtub has a Satanic powder in it. When they discover it


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is dust from Simão’s mule ride they question him about taking a bath on Friday. This is an example of how the Inquisition comes to conclusions which that defy logic. When Branca is also asked if she bathes on Fridays she answers affirmatively because she cannot see why taking a bath on Friday is different from bathing on any other day. Branca cannot understand the connection that the Inquisitors are trying to make between preparing for the Sabbath and cleaning oneself up for personal hygiene. This may also be an indirect barb at the supposed lack of bathing by the Portuguese and other Europeans during the colonial period In O Judeu António José is falsely accused of Jewish practices by a cellmate in prison who collaborates with the Inquisition for a lighter sentence. The prisoner, Bento Pereira, is first told that his own crime is considered a “pecado mortal” (mortal sin) punishable by “açoutes nas ruas públicas, seguidos logo de degredo nas galés...por espaço de cinco a sete anos” [whipping in the public streets, followed by banishment to the galleys. . for the length of five to seven years] (Santareno 206). He is then informed that any information he provides against O Judeu would make him “co-justiceira e cosalvadora” [co-lover of justice and savior] (Santareno 206). When then asked by the Second Inquisitor if António José da Silva fasted, Pereira responds: BENTO PEREIRA. (Logo e repetidamente, faz que sim com a cabeça; sôfrego, agarrando-se à tábua da salvação própria.) Saiba Vossa Reverendíssima que sim senhor! Uma e bastas vezes vi que não comeu... 20 INQUISITADOR. E carne? Viu que se negasse a comê-la, das vezes em que ela ia no jantar, ou na ceia? BENTO PEREIRA. (Coçando a grenha hirsuta) Carne?! Sim, senhor...Não, não, senhor; não comia. (Abrindo-se num sorriso alarve:) Carne? Durante a minha prisão, só nove ou dez vezes a vi...!? Carne? Não, senhor, ele não lhe botava o dente: Quem comeu sempre fui eu...(Santareno 207) [BENTO PEREIRA. (Nodding quickly and repeatedly; impatiently grabbing the table for dear life) Yes definitely, dear Reverend! So many times I saw that he didn’t eat... 20 INQUISITADOR. And meat? You saw that he refused to eat it when it would be in his dinner or supper? BENTO PEREIRA. (Scratching his matted head) Meat?! Yes sir...No, no sir: he didn’t eat it. (His mouth opens into a gluttonous smile) Meat? During the length of my entire prison stay, only nine or ten times did I even see it! Meat? No, sir he didn’t even try it: I was the one who always ate it].

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Bento Pereira tries to tell the Inquisitor exactly what he wants to hear—that António José fasts and doesn’t eat meat. But Pereira’s reaction to the question of eating meat reveals even more about the abysmal prison conditions and lack of nutritious food. He acts shocked that the inquisitor asks about what kind of meat António José eats because the prisoners are not served meat. The use of Pereira’s testimony accurately depicts how the Inquisition used the testimony from guards and fellow prisoners in the case against the accused (Saraiva 75). Regardless of the truth the prisoners had nothing left to lose and would tell the officials anything that might lessen their own punishment. Of all the characters in both plays, only two are affirmed judaizantes or disseminators of Judaism. Lourença Coutinho and Leonor recite prayers such as “Shema Yisroel” (“Hear o Israel”) and quotations from Proverbs (Santareno 127). It is Lourença who performs the wedding rites of António and Leonor in Act II. The association between the women of the household and Judaism is also made clear in a dream sequence of Lourença’s.13 In it a large screen over the stage shows fragmentos de filmes-documentários dos campos de exterminação nazis para judeus, durante a última guerra. As imagens escolhidas, que serão autênticas, mostram os massacres de judeus nas câmaras de gás...A luz e o som criarão a necessária unidade entre as imagens fílmicas e as personagens vivas do palco...Ouvir-se-á, durante a projecção, o velho canto de amor judaico: ‘Shema Yisrael Adonoi Elohenu Adonoi Echod...‘ (Santareno 152) [Fragments of documentaries from Nazi concentration camps. The authentic images selected depict the slaughter of Jews in gas chambers...The light and the sound will create the necessary bridge between the screen images pictures and the live actors onstage...One will hear, during the projection, the ancient Jewish song of praise: Shema Yisrael Adonoi Elohenu Adonoi Echod...Hear o Israel the Lord is my God the Lord is one].

In Brechtian fashion, images of the Holocaust are shown to the audience, using clips from “authentic” films. The use of documentary material is done to reveal the veracity of the events that took place during WWII and connect them with the Inquisition. Light and sound also help bridge the gap between the more distant past, the eighteenth century, and the more recent past, the 1940s. Sound is also employed in this scene to create an atmosphere of sadness. A sad voice recites


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the Jewish prayer “Shema” followed by the names of eighteen World War II concentration camps and ghettos beginning with “Maidanek, Treblinka, Auschwitz” (Santareno 152). In this scene Santareno makes full use of many Brechtian techniques such as video, light and sound efects to completely rivet the audience’s attention upon the repeated history of oppression of Jews in Europe. In each drama, the réus are considered guilty by association. In O Santo Inquérito the Inquisition implicates both Branca Dias and António José da Silva because of their ancestry. The two are descendants of New Christians—cristãos novos, as they are called in Portuguese. The New Cristians were Jews who had converted to Christianity either through their own volition or under duress. Many such Jews were forced to convert to Christianity at the end of the fifteenth century.14 After their conversion, the New Christians were promised that their religious beliefs would not be called into question so as to better integrate them into the Portuguese population. Many began to practice Judaism in secret while outwardly acting as Christians by going to church and eating pork in public (Saraiva 34). Others, however, did take their new faith seriously and relinquished their past beliefs. In both plays, other characters do not accept the New Christians and are jealous of their economic success. In O Santo Inquérito Padre Bernardo interrogates Simão about his ancestry: SIMÃO. Meu caminho é o da fé cristã, caminho abraçado por meus antepassados. PADRE. Não por todos os seus antepassados. Seus avós não eram cristãos, seguiam a lei mosaica. SIMÃO. Sim, mas os meus pais se converteram. PADRE. Sei disso. Vieram para o Brasil em fins do século passado. SIMÃO. Já eram cristãos quando aqui chegaram. PADRE. Cristãos-novos. Chegaram pobres e logo enriqueceram. SIMÃO. Honestamente. (Dias Gomes 47) [SIMÃO. My path is that of the Christian faith, the path embraced by my ancestors. PRIEST. Not by all your ancestors. Your grandparents were not Christian, they followed the law of Moses. SIMÃO. Yes, but my parents had converted. PRIEST. I know this. They came to Brazil at the end of the last century. SIMÃO. They were already Christian when they arrived here. PRIEST. New Christians. They arrived poor and quickly became rich. SIMÃO. But honestly.]

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The priest finds that the fact that Simão has New Christian ancestry is reason enough for him to be one himself. He also implies that the New Christians became rich overnight through treachery. Simão insists that they did so “honestamente,” through their own hard work. This illustrates the stigma of being a New Christian and reasonably successful in Brazil at the time. In O Judeu the vicious attack on cristãos novos is made during the auto-da-fé that will be explained in the section on “Punishment.” In O Santo Inquérito, it is not only Jewish practices that put Branca at odds with the Inquisition, but also her world view. Branca naively discusses her ideas about God and religion with Padre Bernardo after she saves him from drowning in Act I: BRANCA. O mais importante é que eu sinto a presença de Deus em todas as coisas que me dão prazer. No vento que me fustiga os cabelos, quando ando a cavalo. Na água do rio, que me acaricia o corpo, quando vou me banhar. No corpo de Augusto, quando roça no meu, como sem querer. Ou num bom prato de carne-seca, bem apimentado, com muita farofa... (Dias Gomes 30) [BRANCA. What is most important is that I feel the presence of God in all the things that give me pleasure. In the wind that whips through my hair when I ride a horse. In the water of the river, that caresses my body when I bathe. In Augusto’s body, when it rubs against mine by accident. Or in a good plate of dried meat, well spiced with a lot of farofa (Brazilian appetizer made of mandioc root, lard and egg)...]

Branca’ view of God is not punitive nor coercive but rather simplistic and sensual. Branca feels God’s love all around her—in the wind, the water, her fiancé’s body, etc. It is precisely Branca’s sensuality and her open feelings of love that most disturb Padre Bernardo. When she explains why she saved the Padre from drowning, he is openly upset. BRANCA. Não foi querendo agradar a Deus que eu me atirei ao rio para salvá-lo. Foi porque isso me deixaria satisfeita comigo mesma. Porque era um gesto de amor ao meu semelhante. E é no amor que a gente se encontra com Deus. No amor, no prazer, e na alegria de viver. (Ela nota que o Padre se mostra um pouco pertubado com as suas palavras). (Dias Gomes 33) [BRANCA. I threw myself in the river not to please God, but to save you. It was because I would be satisfied with myself. Because it was a gesture of love of my fellow man. And it is in love that we encounter God. In love, pleasure and the joy of living. (She notes that the Priest becomes somewhat upset by her words)].


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The Padre does not understand how and why Branca saved him from drowning. She explains that she did it as a gesture of love and free will and not because of religious obligation. When Branca later describes how she once swam in the nude on a hot summer’s night, the Padre is even more disturbed. Throughout O Santo Inquérito there are frequent references to Branca’s nudity and nocturnal river bathing. These begin in Act I, Scene 1, when Padre Bernardo declares, “Ela está nua” (She is naked) at the end of his opening statement (Dias Gomes 30). Though she has clothing on, the priest cannot or will not see it. During one of her interrogations she describes bathing in the river one night when she couldn’t sleep. The Padre is interested in knowing exactly what she was thinking as she swam nude in the flowing water. PADRE. Algum pensamento pecaminoso lhe atravessou a mente nessa noite? BRANCA. Eu...não me lembro. PADRE. Não pensou em seu noivo nessa noite? BRANCA. É possível. Eu penso nele todas as noites, todos os dias. Tudo que me acontece de bom, eu penso em compartilhar com ele, tudo que me acontece de mau, eu acho que não seria tão mau se ele estivesse a meu lado. PADRE. E ele nunca a viu tomar banho no rio? Responda. BRANCA. Uma vez...sim. Mas não foi naquela noite! Juro por Deus, não foi! PADRE. (Cerra os olhos, como se procurasse fugir a todas aquelas visões e mergulhar em si mesmo.) Branca...pode ir. Eu preciso fazer minhas orações. (Dias Gomes 44–45) [PRIEST. Did some sinful thought cross your mind that night? BRANCA. I...I do not remember. PRIEST. You did not think about your fiancé on that night? BRANCA. It’s possible. I think about him every night, every day. When good things happen to me I think about sharing them with him, when bad things happen to me, I think they wouldn’t be so bad if he were here by my side. PRIEST. And he never saw you bathe in the river? Answer me. BRANCA. One time...yes. But it was not that night! I swear to God, it wasn’t! PRIEST. (Closing his eyes, as if he could run away from all those visions and hide within himself). Branca. You may go. I need to say my prayers.]

When Branca describes how her fiancé, Augusto, may have seen her bathing, it is the Padre who becomes the voyeur. He cannot help becoming aroused at the thought of the young woman swimming and tries to shut the image from his mind. The repeated references to Branca’s nudity in the O Santo Inquérito and the Padre’s reaction to it symbolize how disruptive sexuality can be to societies rigorously

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attached to conservative values.15 Indeed, the military regime in Brazil imagined a conservative, traditional, Roman Catholic country. Open sexuality was contrary to this ideal because in essence it involves the most basic freedom—freedom over one’s mind and body. Under dictatorship the body and the mind are governed by an outside power which puts constraints on thoughts and actions. For this reason, Branca’s nudity is emblematic of autonomy. In O Judeu, António José da Silva also has different ideas about life. He is not a practicing Jew and wants to live without being called one. In an exchange with his wife Leonor he describes how he regards himself—free of labels: ANTÓNIO JOSÉ. Eu sou tão-só um homem. Nem mais, nem menos. Nem raro de espírito, nem singular de corpo. Um homem; um qualquer. Esta é a verdade. A verdade! (Santareno 132–133) [ANTÓNIO JOSÉ. I am only a man. No more, no less. There is nothing special or unique about my body or soul. A man like any other. . This is the truth. The truth!]

António José da Silva cannot escape being called a Jew and feels that the lable “Jew” personifies hatred. It is Leonor who reminds him that regardless of how he sees himself, the outside society and the powerful Inquisition in particular view him as a Jew. Santareno is well aware that racial and religious labels such as “Jew” or “heretic” are a social construct and create a societal expectation for that person to become what he or she is considered to be by others. Under these conditions António José da Silva attempts to overcome the “crime” of being a Jew and does so through theater. O Judeu contains several selections from dramas written by the eighteenthcentury playwright. In an excerpt from Vida do Grande Dom Quixote de la Mancha e do Gordo Sancho Pança, Homem and Sancho ironically discuss finding justice in society: HOMEM. Senhor Governador? SANCHO. Que quereis ao Senhor Governador? HOMEM. Senhor Governador, peço justiça. SANCHO. Pois de que quereis que vos faça justiça? HOMEM. Quero justiça. SANCHO. É boa teima! Homem do diabo, que justiça quereis? Não sabeis que há muitas castas de justiça? Porque há justiça direita, há justiça torta, há justiça vesga, há justiça cega e finalmente há justiça com velidas e cataratas nos olhos. (Santareno 143–144)


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[MAN. Mr. Governador? SANCHO. What do you want from Mr. Governador? MAN. Mr. Governador, I ask for justice. SANCHO. Well, what is the matter in which I can do you justice? MAN. I want justice. SANCHO. Such stubbornnous! Man of the Devil, what kind of justice do you want? Don’t you know that there are many types of justice? Because there is right justice, twisted justice, cross-eyed justice, blind justice, and finally there is justice with blinders and justice with cataracts.]

The quest for justice in an intolerant society is apparent in this exchange. Sancho and the Homem joke about where they can find justice and why the courts or government in general cannot provide it. This is a definite allusion to the situation taking place for the playwright, António José da Silva. He cannot find fairness in an intolerant society that seeks to subjugate him for little reason. The inclusion of this excerpt from the play also has significance for Bernardo Santareno. He, too, feels that there is no equity or freedom under Salazar’s government and creatively uses the words of António José’s characters to discuss the problems facing his own society. PUNISHMENT

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nother way in which the Inquisition tried to incriminate the réus was through torture.16 In O Santo Inquérito there are several references to torture. In Act II the Visitador demands that Augusto Coutinho be brought out before Branca. “O Guarda sai e volta com Augusto. Está algemado e seu aspecto é deplorável. Foi torturado” [The Guard leaves and comes back with Augusto. He is handcuffed and looks terrible. He has been tortured.] (Dias Gomes 97).17 The audience is not shown what happened to Augusto, but from his wounds it is apparent that he has been tortured. Even though the actual torture session is not depicted, portraying the end result of it is effective in making the audience feel uncomfortable. According to John Fraser in Violence in the Arts: If one is made to feel uncomfortable, it is because one is confronted with facts that one hadn’t known, or hadn’t thought carefully enough about, or is still reluctant to feel intensely about. (47)

Being visually confronted with evidence that young people like Augusto are being harmed is shocking and disturbing. The inclusion of such a scene is there to make audience members realize that a gross

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abuse of power is taking place around them and that they should do something about it. To reinforce the institutionalization of torture there is the dialogue between the Visitador and the Guarda. When the Visitador finds out that Augusto fainted after only fifteen minutes of torture even though the maximum allowed is an hour, he states: VISITADOR. (Severo.) Não deviam ter chegado a tanto. A finalidade da tortura é apenas obter a verdade...(Dias Gomes 98) [VISITADOR. (Harshly) They should not have done all his. The only purpose of torture is to get to the truth...]

The Visitador’s strict tone reveals a certain “by-the-book” enforcement of the rules regarding eliciting confessions. It also signifies a larger organization that is behind the use of torture. The allusion to clear guidelines in the torture of prisoners during the Inquisition to elicit information is also found in the twentieth century: The official proceedings of political trials held in military courts indicate that the authorities were fully aware of the routine use of torture during preliminary inquests, and that evidence produced under torture was considered valid in the courtroom. (Dassin x)

During the military regime the authorities not only knew about the employment of torture methods to elicit information, but approved of it by using such methods in cases against the accused in courts. The Inquisition and the torturers it employed also had ways of removing themselves from guilt in the torture of others, as illustrated by the statement that the accused must sign. Ironically, it is purportedly Augusto who is to blame for the torture he suffers, as the Guard and Notary explain that he signed a waiver stating that se nestes tormentos morrer, quebrar algum membro, perder algum sentido, a culpa será toda minha e não dos senhores inquisidores. Assinado: Augusto Coutinho “ (Dias Gomes 99) [If in these torments I should die, break a bone, faint, it is I who is at fault and not the gentlemen Inquisitors. Signed: Augusto Coutinho. ]”

The Guard and Notary act matter-of-factly, as if assuming that the responsibility for one’s own torture is understandable. This absurd reaction to the pain and suffering of others only underscores the dehumanization of Augusto and of the Guards participating in the process.


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In a subsequent scene Augusto describes to Branca what was done to him: AUGUSTO. Deitaram—me numa cama de ripas e me amarraram com cordas, pelos pulsos e pelas pernas. Apertavam as cordas, pouco a pouco, parando a circulação e cortando a carne. (Ele lhe mostra os punhos, ela os sopra e beija.) E faziam perguntas, perguntas, e mais perguntas. As mais absurdas. As mais idiotas. (Dias Gomes 103) [AUGUSTO. They put me on a wooden plank and tied my wrists and legs with ropes. They slowly tightened the ropes, which cut off my circulation and burned into my flesh. (He shows her his wrists, which she blows on and kisses.) And they asked questions, questions and more questions. The most absurd. The most idiotic].

In his description of the torture methods, Augusto tells Branca what has occurred and shows her his wrists. By telling another character and the audience of a violence inflicted upon him, this character is using a form of theatrical violence which Severino Albuquerque calls a “reportive.” For Albuquerque, a reportive is “often more forceful than actual scenes of physical violence both in print and onstage” (Albuquerque 42). A reportive produces a strong effect on the audience because [E]ach victim of violence assumes the status of a collective representative, while his or her stage persona produces in the addressee the empathy necessary for a successful report of the violence experienced. (Albuquerque 42–43)

The character represents an entire group and what was done to him or her is experienced collectively. Both the audience and the other character(s) being told about the violent event are affected by it. Watching Branca tenderly kiss Augusto’s wounds elicits additional sympathy from the audience. In O Judeu there is a similar scene in which António José da Silva is shown with injured wrists. In Act I, the stage directions read: Como um menino apavorado, frágil e desprotegido, estende os braços e mostra aos espectadores os pulsos entrapados, ainda com manchas de sangue visíveis nas ligaduras. A luz concentra-se com o máximo de intensidade sobre os pulsos de António José; tudo o mais fica em semiobscuridade. (Santareno 36) [Like a terrified child, a small and unprotected boy, he extends his arms and shows the spectators his bound wrists, still with visible spots of blood on

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Metaphors of Oppression in Lusophone Historical Drama the ropes. The light concentrates intensely on António José’s wrists; everything else is in semi-darkness].

Rather than telling the audience what happened to him, António José shows them his bloodied hands. The light focusing on the injury also increases the impact and shock value for the spectator. Also, as in scenes from the Cruxification of Jesus, a group of women gather and weep for the tortured man. A black servant kisses António Josés tortured wrists and hands. De joelhos, colocada lateralmente em relação ao grupo que o Judeu faz com sua mãe, muitas e repetidas vezes, chorando sempre mais alto, a negra beija as mãos e os pulsos feridos de António José. (Santareno 40) [On her knees, off to the side of the Jew and his mother, many times over, weeping louder and louder, the black woman kisses the wounded hands and wrists of António José].

Having a woman, this time a black servant, cry for the injured protagonist creates an atmosphere of sorrow and revulsion that few in the audience can escape. In O Judeu, there are even more explicit scenes of torture. In Act III the “tratos de polé” [pulley treatments] are re-enacted: António José, suspenso pelos braços, volta a cabeça, cerrando os dentes. Sinal do Inquisidor-Mor: O Carrasco larga a corda e, deste modo, António José despenha-se no ar em direcção ao pavimento; num golpe súbito, o Carrasco de novo sustém a corda: com o corpo contorcendo-se-lhe todo pela violência do choque e as cordas enterrando-se-lhe nas carnes, o Judeu solta um urro de dor. (Santareno 222) [António José, suspended by his arms, turns his head, clenching his teeth. At the signal of the Head Inquisitor the executioner releases the rope and lets António Jose fall towards the floor; then, with a quick move, the executioner pulls the rope back up again making the Jew’s body twist with violent shock and embedding the rope in his flesh until he lets out a cry of pain].

The directions describe the gruesomeness of António José’s torture. António José is hung by his arms, then dropped violently toward the ground only to be jerked upward again, straining his limbs and muscles. Watching this scene of torture is not only revolting to the audience but also to those who participate in the torture. After watching the scene and hearing António José confess, the First Inquisitor leaves the room:


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Com raiva e náusea, em aberta hostilidade, coloca-se diante do Geral, fixando-o intensamente com os olhos, os músculos todos fremindo; surpreendido primeiro, logo o Inquisidor-Mor se recupera aguentando-lhe firme e rígido o olhar acusador; ()(Santareno 222) [The First Inquisitor, openly hostile, angry and sick to his stomach, stands in front of his superior, staring at him with twitching muscles. Surprised at first, The Main Inquisitor recovers and stares him down. The Second Inquisitor, tense with rage, gets up. The First Inquisitor, in a sudden and ferocious half-turn, turns away and quickly leaves the room in long and decisive steps].

This Inquisitor, who throughout the drama has difficulty with the methods used by the Inquisition, finally follows his conscience and dares to act out against the system. By looking the Head Inquisitor in the eye and walking out, he refuses to collaborate in a cruel and unjust institution. This reaction sets an example for the audience to follow in not supporting nor participating in present-day political repression. A similar message of non-compliance with the system is offered in O Santo Inquérito. Simão has just told his daughter that Augusto has died during a torture session rather than implicate her. He describes how Augusto finally succumbed while hanging from his ankles:17 SIMÃO. (Faz uma pausa. As palavras custam a sair Ele não resistiu... BRANCA. (Num sussuro.) Morreu! (Mais forte.) Eles o mataram! (Seus joelhos vergam, repete baixinho.) Eles o mataram...Eles o mataram... SIMÃO. Eu sabia que ele não ia resistir. Estava vendo!...depois de tudo, ainda o penduraram no teto com pesos nos pés e o deixaram lá...Quando os guardas voltaram, ainda tentaram reanimá-lo, mas BRANCA. (Sua dor se traduz por um imenso silêncio. Subitamente:) E o senhor não podia ter feito nada?! SIMÃO. Eu? BRANCA. Sim, por que não gritou, não chamou alguém SIMÃO. Pensei em baixar a corda. Mas BRANCA. Pois então... SIMÃO. Eles têm leis muito severas para aqueles que ajudam os hereges. Eu já estava com a minha situação resolvida, ia ser posto em liberdade... BRANCA. Bastava um gesto... SIMÃO. E o que me custaria esse gesto? Um homem deve pesar bem suas atitudes, e não agir ao primeiro impulso. Eu podia ter tido o mesmo destino que ele. Era ou não era muito pior? (Dias Gomes 115) [SIMÃO.(Pausing. The words are difficult to pronounce.) He didn’t make it. BRANCA. (Whispering. ) He died! (Louder) They killed him! (Her knees

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Metaphors of Oppression in Lusophone Historical Drama buckle, she repeats softly) They killed him...They killed him... SIMÃO. I knew he wouldn’t make it. I could see it. After everything else they strung him up from the ceiling with weights on his feet and left him there. When the guards returned, they even tried to wake him up, but... BRANCA. (Her pain translates into a long silence. She says suddenly) And you couldn’t do anything?! SIMÃO. Me? BRANCA. Yes, why didn’t you yell or call someone? SIMÃO. I thought about pulling down the rope. But... BRANCA. Well, then. . SIMÃO. They have strict laws against anyone who helps heretics. My situation was already taken care of, they were going to free me... BRANCA. At least a gesture. . SIMÃO. And what would that gesture cost me? A man must weigh his atitudes well and not be impulsive. I could have ended up just like him. Would that not have been worse?]

After hearing from her father that Augusto is dead, Branca reacts with shock and at first blames “eles” or the Inquisition for Augusto’s death. Then she questions her father’s actions and learns that he could have done something to save Augusto’s life, but did not so as not to compromise his own. Branca wants to know why Simão did not offer a gesto, or gesture to help save Augusto. In a Brechtian sense the gesto or gestus as implied by Branca is symbolic of involvement. Simão, like many people of Dias Gomes’s day, did not want to become involved in the stand against the dictatorship for fear of risking their own lives. Branca in turn blames her father for being an accomplice to the death of Augusto and, symbolically, for the continuance of the military regime in Brazil. She says: BRANCA. O senhor é tão culpado quanto eles. SIMÃO. Não, ninguém pode ser culpado de um ato para o qual não contribuiu de forma alguma. BRANCA. O senhor contribuiu. SIMÃO. Não matei, não executei, não participei de nada! BRANCA. Silenciou. (Dias Gomes 117) [BRANCA. You are just as guilty as they are. SIMÃO. No, no one is guilty of something that he did not do. BRANCA. But you contributed. SIMÃO. I did not kill, I did not execute, I did not participate in anything! BRANCA. You were silent].

Though Simão tries to distance himself from Augusto’s death, Branca finds him responsible for not saying anything. Even his denial that


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he didn’t kill, order nor participate is rebuked with his daughter’s statement that he was silent. For Branca, silence means complicity. She continues with, “Quem cala, colabora” meaning, literally, that whoever fails to speak collaborates. With these three words Dias Gomes points an accusatory finger at those in the audience and in Brazilian society at large who do not rise up and protest what is happening in their country. The playwright is making a plea for action against the regime of his day on the part of the erstwhile “silent majority.” In O Santo Inquérito and O Judeu the réus are subjected to various forms of punishment. These punishments include the wearing of marked clothing, imprisonment, and execution at an auto-da-fé. The Inquisition’s punishments were designed to shame the perpetrator of the crime and deter others from following in their footsteps. Both Branca Dias and António José da Silva are imprisoned in their respective dramas. In the beginning of Act II of O Santo Inquérito, Branca Dias finds herself in a jail cell. She laments her predicament and questions the purpose of her punishment: BRANCA. (Deitada de bruços, atrás da grade. Sua atitude revela abandono e perplexidade. Há um longo silêncio, antes que ela comece a falar.) Se ao menos eu pudesse ver o sol...(Pausa.) Será que é essa a melhor maneira de salvar uma criatura que está na mira do Diabo? Tirar-lhe o sol, o ar, o espaço e cercá-la de trevas, trevas onde o Diabo é rei? (Dirige-se à platéia.) Vêem vocês o que eles estão fazendo comigo?...Será que foi para isso que me prenderam aqui e me tiraram o sol, o ar, o espaço? Para que eu não pudesse fugir e tivesse de enfrentar o Diabo cara a cara. É justo, senhores, que para me livrar dele me entreguem a ele, noites e noites a sós com ele, sem saber por quê... (Dias Gomes 75) [BRANCA. (Lying prone, behind bars. Her attitude shows abandonment and perplexity. There is a long silence, before she begins to speak.) If I could only see the sun...(Pausing.) Could this be the best way to save a creature who the Devil has designs on? To take away sun, air, space and surround her with darkness, darkness where the Devil is king? (Addressing the audience.) You see what they are doing to me? Could it be that for this they arrested me and took away my sun, air, and space? So that I could not run away and meet the Devil face to face. Is it gentlemen, to deliver me to him alone every night in order to free me of him, without knowing why...]

In her cell, Branca is shut off from the elements that she associates with Life and with God, such as the sun and fresh air. It is in the darkness of prison that she feels the Devil’s grip. When Branca addresses

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the audience she is asking them to see what “eles” are doing to her. “They”, or the authorities, could be interpreted as the Brazilian military, which imprisoned many people without reason; Branca’s question to the public is therefore a “two-edged sword.” Other forms of punishment, such as the wearing of marked clothing, are referred to in O Santo Inquérito and O Judeu. António José da Silva and Simão, Branca’s father, are made to wear garments that identify them as penitentes of the Inquisition. Simão does not find this punishment to be excessive. SIMÃO. Devo apenas levar esta cruz na roupa durante um ano. É humilhante, mas ainda é uma sorte. (Dias Gomes 118) [SIMÃO. I only have to wear the image of a cross on my clothing for a year. It is humiliating, but I’m still lucky].

Though shameful, this punishment is not nearly as painful as others that could be inflicted by the Inquisitional authorities. For António José da Silva, however, the wearing of marked clothing is not as tolerable. When he returns to Coimbra to study law after his first encounter with the Inquisition he must wear the habit that marks him as a penitente or sinner. According to the Cavaleiro de Oliveira, he is harassed because of it: CAVALEIRO DE OLIVEIRA. Entre a cruel surriada de muitos, o ódio desatado de mais ainda, e porventura a compaixão temerosa e escondida de alguns poucos, lá se foi arrastando de aula em aula, vestido sempre o hábito infamante que o “Judeu”-–como já por esse tempo lhe chamavam—usava com gosto igual àquele com que se meteria dentro duma camisa de fogo esperto. (Santareno 84) [KNIGHT DE OLIVEIRA. Between the cruel taunts of some, the open hatred of many, and perhaps the fearful and hidden compassion of a few, he dragged himself from class to class, always wearing the infamous habit that the “Jew”—as they already called him—wore with all the enthusiasm of someone dressed in a shirt of fire].

Because of the clothing he must wear, António José becomes a pariah amongst his classmates and is teased and abused. There are a few who feel sorry for him, but they fear the scorn of the others and avoid António José nonetheless. To reinforce the feelings of sadness and isolation, the stage directions describe António José’s body language in the following terms: (Em atitude corporal de fundo desalento, triste e meditabundo, enverga o


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traje comum aos estudantes de Coimbra setecentista) (Santareno 84). [With the bodily attitude of deep discouragement, sad and meditative, he dons the suit common to the students of eighteenth-century Coimbra].

António José is forlorn and distant as he eyes his classmates in their unmarked “normal” attire. By mandating distinct marks on common clothing the Inquisition was able to identify and shame individuals, making it difficult for them to blend in with others. The most spectacular form of punishment that occurred during the Inquisition appears at the end of both plays. The auto-da-fé or “act of faith” was a solemn, choreographed affair in which the guilty party was led in procession before a crowd of people and executed by being strangled and/or burned alive. If the accused admitted to his/her guilt and asked for mercy from the Church, s/he could be strangled before being burned. Such was the punishment of the accused who were relaxados ao braço secular. (Executed by the secular authorities) Autos-da-fé were always performed on Sundays or on other special occasions such as the King’s wedding or the Prince’s birthday to ensure a large audience (Camelo and Pecante 61). In O Judeu, the autos-da-fé, of which there are several, are described in detail. They begin with a procession from the Palácio da Inquisição led by Dominican monks holding the banner of the Inquisition, followed by the penitentes with a lighted candle in their right hand. Each penitente is wearing a different garment indicating the crime committed. The first penitentes are those convicted of lesser crimes and wear black, sleeveless shirts. Following them are those who have committed more serious crimes and have sambenitos, or long vests, over their black shirts ...com chamas pintadas de pontas viradas para baixo—”o fogo revolto”; depois destes, os negativos e relapsos, destinados ao queimadeiro, cujos sambenitos apresentam também chamas, mas com as pontas viradas para cima; por fim, os heresiarcas que, além das chamas, têm pintado na veste o seu próprio retrato, cercado de cães, serpentes e diabos, todos de boca escancarada; cada um dos Penitentes é acompanhado por um Familiar do Santo-Ofício, além de um Jesuíta, este apenas para os que vão ser queimados. Depois dos penitentes, vêm os Familiares, quase todos nobres e de rico trajar...(Santareno 93–94) [with painted flames with their tips facing downwards—”revolting fire”; after these, the deniers and relapsers, destined for the pyre, whose outfits also have flames, but with the tips turned upwards; finally, the heresiarchs

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Metaphors of Oppression in Lusophone Historical Drama who, in addition to the flames, have their own picture painted on their clothing surrounded by dogs, serpents and devils, all with gaping mouths; each one of the Penitentes is accompanied by an authority of the SantoOfício, in addition to a Jesuit, only for those who are going to be burnt. After the Penitentes, come the authorities, almost all of whom are noblemen wearing expensive clothing].

The penitentes who will be burned alive have the most terrifying sambenitos—a vest with their face on it surrounded by dogs, snakes and devils as well as flames pointing to the sky. The choreographed nature of the auto-da-fé is done to both capture the attention of the spectator and reinforce the power of the Inquisition. The ordered nature of such a procession in which everyone has a predetermined place with clothing that identifies her/him with her/his crime inspires fear and awe. These emotions are encouraged by those who speak at the auto-da-fé: the padres pregadores and padres proclamadores. A padre pregador was a priest selected by the Inquisition to expound upon the evils of those about to be punished. In a study of the sermons preached by the padres pregadores, Edward Glaser finds that [O] objectivo primário dos sermões que se dirigiam aos culpados de práticas judaizantes era refutar de uma vez por todas os seus erros graves. Por isso, os padres explicavam exaustivamente às vítimas aterrorizadas problemas de natureza teológica que, devido à sua complexidade, continuavam fora do seu alcance. Embora considerassem sua tarefa principal a explicação clara da verdade, não se limitavam a tratar de diferenças doutrinais. Achavam-se ainda no dever de fazer uma acusação radical da ‘venenosa cizânia do judaísmo.’ (Glaser 82) [The main objective of these sermons directed at those guilty of Jewish practices was to refute, once and for all, all of their grave errors. Therefore, the priests explained exhaustively to the terrorized victims by theological problems that, due to their complexity, remained beyond their grasp. Although they considered their main task to be the clear explanation of the truth, they did not limit themselves to the discussion of doutrinal differences. They still found themselves obligated to make a radical accusation of the “poisonous discord” of Judaism]

The padres pregadores spoke of the evils of Judaism before an ignorant crowd which did not understand them. Instead of clearly pointing out the theological differences between Catholicism and Judaism, the padres pregadores instead used rhetoric to rouse the population


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and speeches which were vicious attacks on Jews and New Christians. This is seen in Act I, Scene I, where the Padre Pregador takes the stage and begins to rail against those at the auto-da-fé: PADRE PREGADOR. (Impondo silêncio.) Judeus conversos? Cristãos novos? que venham, sus!...A máscara “cristão novo” esconde um judeu velho, um hereje relapso, hipócrita, diminuto e obstinado, morada fedorenta do Demónio, profanador irremisso do Sacramento do Baptismo! E são estes heresiarcas—verdugos do Senhor, matadores de Jesus!—que possuem a grossura desta terra, onde habitam com mais folgança que muitos de vós, seus naturais: Os judeus—eles são praga, neste infeliz reino! (Santareno 12) [PREACHER. (Imposing silence.) Jewish converts? New Chrstians? Let them show themselves! The mask of the “New Christian” hides a lapsed, hypocritical, shrinking and stubborn old Jew, a heretic in the stinking dwelling of the Devil, an unredeemed profaner of Sacrament of Baptism! And it is these heresiarcas—executioners of the Lord, Christ killers!–-They own the best of this land, where they live more idly than many of you, the natives: The Jews—they are a plague, in this unhappy kingdom!]

The Padre Pregador sees no difference between a New Christian and a Jew. He accuses the Jews and New Christians of being responsible for the death of Christ and. This provokes the crowd to yell and jeer at the accused. One man shouts, “Ao queimadeiro! Façam a barba aos cães judeus!” (12). (To the pyre! Cut all the Jews’ beards!) Through the encouragement and incitement of these priests, the crowd becomes more violent. After the Padre Pregador speaks, the voice of the Padre Secular identifies the penitentes and reads their sentences. At the auto-dafé in Act I the anger and hatred towards the penitentes is visually and audibly portrayed. A group of people are roused to participate in their own demonstration against the penitentes. 1a MULHER VELHA. Os Judeus lavram? Não! 1a MULHER NOVA. Eles plantam? Não! 1o HOMEM. Vão à guerra? Não! 2a MULHER NOVA. Constroem casas? Não! (Cada uma destas perguntas é feita pela personagem indicada a todos os outros, à maneira de quem faz uma demonstração; o “Não!” que a si próprios respondem tem o mesmo sentido. Este jogo de pergunta-resposta é precedido por movimentos violentos de corrida e gesto, por parte de cada intervenente...) (Santareno 32) [FIRST OLD WOMAN. Do the Jews farm? No! FIRST YOUNG WOMAN. Do they plant? No! FIRST MAN. Do they go to war? No!

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Metaphors of Oppression in Lusophone Historical Drama SECOND YOUNG WOMAN. Do they build houses? No! (Each one of these questions is made by the character pointed out by the others, in the manner of a demonstration; when they respond “ No “ it gives the same impression. This game of question-answer is preceded by violent movements of running and gesture, on the part of each participant...)]

Those watching the auto-da-fé follow the Inquisition’s lead in terms of voicing their antipathy towards the Jews. The way in which the “question-answer” session is staged creates a scene verging on a riot. This is exactly what the Inquisition had in mind—getting the populace excited and angry about the cristãos-novos so they would forget the dismal poverty in which they themselves lived. The final auto-da-fé in O Judeu is that of António José da Silva himself. It is a repetition of the first execution, which opens the drama in Act I. There is one exception, however, and that is the replacement of the character about to be burned. In Act I the penitente is José Lavareda, a thirty-year-old man accused of practicing Judaism. In Act III, it is António José da Silva who is about to be led to the pyre. Before the procession the Cavaleiro de Oliveira tells the audience what is being lost by António José’s premature death: CAVALEIRO DE OLIVEIRA. A sua INOCÊNCIA. A sua JUVENTUDE quebrada. O MEDO que em todos os actos da sua vida, os mais simples e naturais, misturou cobras vigilantes. A sua CORAGEM de artista, a fidelidade do seu espírito ao do Teatro, lugar de justiça, banco da verdade, aonde ousou despir de suas opulentas vestes aqueles muitos que, nada sendo, com o vesti-las, disfarçadas de tudo correm a vida e o mundo...(Santareno 226) [KNIGHT OF OLIVEIRA. His INNOCENCE. His broken YOUTH. The FEAR that in all the acts of his life, the simplest and natural, mixed vigilant snakes. His COURAGE as an artist, the allegiance of his spirit to the Theater, a place of justice, the courtroom of truth, where he dared to strip naked those who were nothing beneath their opulent vestments, who went through life disguised as everything.]

In his eulogy of António José da Silva, the Knight of Oliveira points out the playwright’s youth, his innocence and the fear that both terrorized him and inspired his art. It is in the theater that António José da Silva found justice and truth—where he could address the hypocrisy of the rich by figuratively disrobing them. The Cavaleiro’s speech is interrupted several times with recordings of crowds yelling “O Judeu.” At first the sounds are those of approval, such as those made by audiences of his plays: (...Palmas, gargalhadas, gritos de


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júbilo...) [Clapping, laughing, shouts of jubilation] but later they become antagonistic and cruel: (Judeu maldito!...Cão tinhoso!...Façam a barba ao cão!...) [Damned Jew! Mangy dog! Cut the beard of the dog!] (Santareno 227–228). This extreme change is not lost on the Cavaleiro, who points out: CAVALEIRO DE OLIVEIRA. O ÓDIO, o ódio do povo que ele tanto amou, e tudo, tudo!, fez para até si trazer. Este, é o ódio nado no medo, na superstição, na fome...o ódio gerado pelas trevas. (Quase frágil, bebendo ansiosamente o público com os olhos, implorando:) ILUMINAI O POVO DE PORTUGAL! (Santareno 228) [KNIGHT DE OLIVEIRA. The HATRED, the hatred of the people who he so loved, for whom he did everything, everything! This is hatred swimming in fear, in superstition, in hunger. The hatred generated by darkness. (Almost fragile, anxiously drinking in the public in his eyes, begging:) ILLUMINATE THE PEOPLE OF PORTUGAL!]

The Cavaleiro is sickened by the hatred shown to António José by the people he loved so dearly. He knows that it is fear, hunger and superstition that breeds the hatred that is so strong in Portugal. For this he pleads that Portugal become enlightened. Following the Cavaleiro’s speech, António José is led in the autoda-fé procession. While the Padre Secular reads the sentence of death Lourença and Leonor try to reach António José: Lourença, deixando cair a vela que segurava nas mãos, solta um grito de horror; destaca-se da fila dos penitentes, avançando uns passos vacilantes na direcção de António José. Logo Leonor a segue. O Familiar-Estudante Pálido detém Lourença, impedindo-a de alcançar o filho. Estas serão as marcações estáticamente fixadas—António José da Silva, ajoelhado, a cabeça pendente no peito, quase sem alento; uns passos atrás, Lourença, sustida pelo Familiar-Estudante Pálido, tem os braços convulsivamente estendidos para o filho; atrás desta, Leonor, também destacada dos mais penitentes, apresentada, os membros sem vida, na face a máscara rígida e desumanizada do pavor...(Santareno 230) [Lourença, letting fall the candle that was in her hands, lets out a scream of horror; she stands out from the line of penitents, advancing a few shaky steps in the direction of Antonio José. Soon Leonor follows. The inquisitional authority, the Pale Student, holds Leonor back, not letting her reach her son. These figures remain ecstatically in place: António Jose Da Silva, kneeling, head hanging on his chest, nearly lifeless; a few paces behind, Lourença, held up by the Pale Student, her arms convulsively extended towards her son; behind her, Leonor, also detached from the penitents, her limbs slack, her face a rigid, inhuman mask of terror...]

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In this pathetic scene, the Familiar-Estudante Pálido, an Inquisitional informer, comes between mother and son. There is nothing that Lourença or Leonor can do to save António José, who is about to be executed. Their body language and facial expressions depict deep feelings of horror and sorrow. It is here that Lourença resembles the Virgin Maria as she watches her son, Jesus, crucified.18 In both cases the son dies a martyr’s death, misunderstood by many except those close to him. The auto-da-fé scene in O Santo Inquérito has similar elements. First, Branca is told that she will be released to the secular authorities because she does not recant her confession. VISITADOR. Declara-se ainda inocente porque quer impor-nos a sua heresia, como todos de sua raça. Como todos os que pretendem enfraquecer a religião e a sociedade pela subversão e pela anarquia. BRANCA. Mas senhores, eu não pretendi nada disso! Nunca pensei senão em viver conforme a minha natureza e o meu entendimento, amando Deus à minha maneira; nunca quis destruir nada, nem fazer mal algum a ninguém! VISITADOR. (Corta-lhe a palavra com um gesto.) Seu caso já não é conosco, Branca. O Tribunal eclesiástico termina aqui a sua tarefa. O braço secular se encarregará do resto. BRANCA. (Receosa.) Que resto, senhor? VISITADOR. O poder civil, a quem cabe defender a sociedade e o Estado, vai julgá-la segundo as leis civis. Nós lamentamos ter de declará-la separada da Igreja e relaxada ao braço secular...À acusada foram oferecidas todas as oportunidades de defesa e de arrependimento. Dia após dia, noite após noite, estivemos aqui lutando para arrancar essa pobre alma às garras do Demônio. Mas fomos derrotados. Desgraçadamente. (Sai, seguido do Notário e dos padres.) BRANCA. Os senhores foram derrotados...E eu? PADRE. Você, Branca, vai amargar a sua vitória. (Dias Gomes 121) [VISITADOR. And you still declare yourself innocent because you want to impose your heresy on us, like all of your race. Like all those who want to weaken religion and society through subversion and anarchy. BRANCA. But gentlemen, I did not intend any of this! I never thought about anything other than living according to my nature and my understanding, loving God in my own way; I never wanted to destroy anything or hurt anyone! VISITADOR. (Cutting her off with a gesture.) Your case is no longer with us, Branca. The ecclesiastical Court has finished its task here. The secular arm will take care of the rest. BRANCA. (Distrustful.) What rest, sir? VISITADOR. The civil power, which is in charge of defending society and


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the State, will judge you according to its civil laws. We are sorry to have to excommunicate you from the Church and execute you in the secular branch. The accused was offered every opportunity of defense and repentance. Day after day, night after night, we were here fighting to pull this poor soul from the Demon’s claws. But we were defeated. Unhappily. (He leaves, followed the Notary and the priests.) BRANCA. You gentlemen were defeated. .And I? PRIEST. You, Branca, have achieved a bitter victory].

In this exchange the Visitador informs Branca that she is considered “victorious” for maintaining her position, yet will die anyway. Though the Church worked hard to make Branca give up her original notions about God, it was unsuccessful. She holds fast to her ideals and does not relent and for this she will pay the ultimate price. In this way Branca becomes a martyr for, as Lindenberger explains, “A martyr is not someone who simply is executed, but one who dies for an idea” (40). Branca dies because she does not stop believing in the goodness of God and love in the world. As a young woman, Branca’s martyrdom is especially powerful for the audience. Indeed, “women, like children, have traditionally provided natural symbols for dramatic situations which demand that the audience feel outraged by wronged innocence” (Lindenberger 48). This sense of revolt is reinforced by Branca’s final words: “E sei também que não sou a primeira. E nem serei a última” (Dias Gomes 121). (And I also know that I am not the first. Nor shall I be the last.) Branca’s message is that there will always be people who will stand up to tyranny, no matter what the cost. After her final speech Branca Dias is led to her death in much the same way as in the crucifixion of Jesus: Os guardas entram e amarram-na pelos pulsos e pelo pescoço com cordas e baraço, e a arrastam assim por uma rampa para o plano superior, onde surgem os reflexos avermelhados da fogueira. Padre Bernardo, no plano inferior, a vê, angustiado, contorcer-se entre as chamas. Contorce-se também, como se sentisse na própria carne. (Dias Gomes 121) [The guards enter and tie her by the wrists and neck with rope and a noose, and drag her up a ramp to the upper plane, where the reddish reflections of the fire can be seen. Padre Bernardo on the lower plane, sees her, overwhelmed, contorting in the flames. He is also contorting himself, as he felt his own flesh were on fire].

Branca is tied up by guards and brought up a ramp to a pyre. There she dies, convulsing in the flames, as Padre Bernardo watches. Once

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she is dead, Padre Bernardo is finally freed from his obsessive desire for Branca and says: PADRE. (Caindo de joelhos.) Finalmente, Senhor, finalmente posso aspirar ao Vosso perdão! (Dias Gomes 121) [PRIEST. (Falling to his knees) Finally, O Lord, finally I can ask for your forgiveness!]

For Padre Bernardo, it is only through the complete extermination of Branca that he will be released from his desire for her. In the contemporary period, the necessity to exterminate subversives or make them disappear was an objective held by many in the military held without the “mitigating sensuality” at work in Padre Bernardo. Yet Branca, who dies standing on the highest physical point (plano superior) on the stage with the priest below her, has achieved apotheosis. The two historical dramas studied in this chapter carefully and creatively connect a past era with the present. For the playwrights, the historical period in question—the heyday of the Inquisition—had much in common with their contemporary era. During both epochs the governments forbade free speech and invented instruments to forcefully put down dissent. In order to make a twentieth-century audience realize that it, too, is living under repression and to encourage viewers to do something to change their situation, Bernardo Santareno and Alfredo Dias Gomes reenact the trials of António José da Silva and Branca Dias. In O Judeu and O Santo Inquérito the playwrights employ different methods in re-creating both the trials and the Inquisitional period. Dias Gomes takes a general approach and offers more vague allusions to the Brazilian military regime. Examples of this are the way the courtroom is set up and the avoidance of specific references to the twentieth century. It appears that the playwright is taking extreme care not to draw the attention of the censors. Bernardo Santareno, on the other hand, is much more direct in his attack on the Salazar regime and conditions in modern-day Portugal. One way in which he accomplishes this is through the Cavaleiro de Oliveira. According to José António Camelo and Maria Helena Pecante, the Cavaleiro de Oliveira has a didactic role to instruct the audience in the similarities between their period and that which is being presented onstage. He is the


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acusador público, denunciando os males do reino; articula a realidade portuguesa sua contemporânea com a realidade portuguesa do século XX; serve de máscara àquilo que Santareno diz e que gostaria que a plateia não esquecesse. (Camelo and Pecante 189) [Public accuser, denouncing all of the kingdom’s evils; comparing his contemporary Portuguese reality with the Portuguese reality of the 20th century; serving as a mask for that which Santareno says and would like the audience not to forget].

The Cavaleiro de Oliveira not only directs the audience’s attention to certain aspects of the trial that they are both watching but also plays the role of external prosecutor, condemning the injustice taking place on stage and in society. In this way, the dramatic trial of António José da Silva is much larger—a trial of historical and presentday injustice. The Cavaleiro de Oliveira states, “Acreditai que antes muito a sério vos falo. Senão vede como o Judeu nos retrata a justiça dseu—e do meu—tempo, no cristianíssimo reino de Portugal” (Santareno 142). (Believe that above all, I speak to you seriously, that you may see how the Jew shows us the justice of your—and my— time, in this most Christian realm of Portugal.) For the Cavaleiro de Oliveira, the life and trial of António José da Silva reflect aspects of both the eighteenth and twentieth centuries. In addition to being more specific about the contemporary era, O Judeu has an autobiographic base. Bernardo Santareno, like António José da Silva, had to contend with severe censorship and harassment...but by the PIDE, the Portuguese security police. He, like António José da Silva, used theater as a vehicle to discuss the inequalities and intolerance of his society and as a result was condemned by the authorities. Playwright and critic Luís-Francisco Rabello notes that there is a clear connection between Bernardo Santareno’s life and that of António José da Silva’s. In the February 20, 1981, performance program of O Judeu Rabello explains: As proibições da censura, as miseráveis campanhas desencadeadas contra as suas peças que chegaram a subir à cena, os compromissos traídos, as promessas incumpridas, tudo isso gerou nele uma amargura, que o seu entranhado amor pela liberdade e o povo do seu país ainda tornava mais dolorosa e que, misturada de raiva, tristeza e náusea, está na raiz mais profunda e secreta da sua morte prematura. Por tudo isto, O Judeu é como o seu testamento espiritual. Pela boca do dramaturgo setecentista supliciado, é a voz do nosso companheiro redivivo—pois aí reside a força eterna do teatro...(257)

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Metaphors of Oppression in Lusophone Historical Drama [The prohibitions of censorship, the miserable campaigns unleashed against those plays that actually made it to the stage...all this generated in him a bitterness that his deep love of freedom and the people of his country made more painful and which, mixed with sadness and nausea, is the deepest and most secrect cause of his premature death. For this reason, O Judeu is his spiritual testimony. Through the mouth of an executed eighteenth-century dramatist this is the voice of our revived friend–for in it resides the eternal force of theater...]

Rabello discerns many similarities between the two playwrights’ lives. He finds that both of them suffered greatly from the repressive nature of their worlds and sought to interpret it in theater. Rabello believes that O Judeu is as much a historical drama as a personal testimony of one artist to another. In the end both António José da Silva and Bernardo Santareno died untimely deaths—the former at 33 and the latter at 60—but left an undeniable mark upon Portuguese theater. The crime for which António José da Silva and Branca Dias are ultimately executed reflects the values placed by the playwrights on free expression. Both réus have opinions about life that run contrary to what is acceptable in their societies. The Inquisition, like the twentieth-century regimes of Salazar and the Brazilian military, did not allow dissent but rather wished to suppress it in any way possible. The scenes of torture and violence in both dramas illustrate the means to which a government will go to repress opposition. O Judeu has more explicit scenes of torture performed onstage than O Santo Inquérito, including one in which António José da Silva is hung from the ceiling and dropped repeatedly. In depicting such scenes the playwrights wished to shock audience members and make them question their own values. As John Fraser remarks: It is in violent encounters, however, that one is required most obviously to reaffirm or reassess one’s own values and to acknowledge the necessity of having as strong and clearly articulated a value-system, as sharply defined a self, as much alertness to others, and as firm a will as possible. (Fraser 157)

When confronted with practices such as the pulley treatments within the context of a historical drama, the spectator may consider not only what is taking place onstage, but also outside the theater as well. In the final scenes of both dramas Branca Dias and António José da Silva die as martyrs. The way in which their autos-da-fé are por-


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trayed is very reminiscent of Christ’s crucifixion. This type of death only reinforces the playwrights’ message that intolerance and injustice will not win in the end, for the audience and society at large will ultimately see the error of supporting repressive regimes. Though the sentences against Branca Dias and António José da Silva were carried out long ago, their cases have been appealed by both the twentieth-century playwrights and by history itself. The Inquisition ended in the nineteenth century and the regimes under which Dias Gomes and Santareno worked are also a thing of the past: Portugal broke free from the hold of dictatorship with the April 25th (1974) Revolution and Brazil returned to democracy in 1985. In a most ironic and perhaps fitting turn of events, on February 20, 1981, O Judeu was performed for the first time after 15 years of censorship in the Teatro D. Maria/Casa de Garrett, located atop the ruins of Palácio Estaus, the headquarters of the Inquisition (Camelo and Pecante 244). Though the fight for injustice in the world is surely not over, in the case of António José da Silva, the verdict has been reversed.

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CHAPTER THREE

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Breaking the Bonds: Slavery and Rebellion in Arena conta Zumbi, A Revolta da Casa dos Ídolos, and Ana, Zé e os Escravos

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lavery is a metaphor for political unrest and repression in three Lusophone historical dramas written between the mid-1960s and 1988. The Brazilian drama Arena conta Zumbi (1965) (Arena tells Zumbi), by Augusto Boal and Gianfrancesco Guarnieri, treats Palmares, the seventeenth-century maroon colony of Pernambuco.1 For these playwrights, the story of Palmares is analogous to the political repression and socioeconomic disparity in Brazil during the 1960s. Two Angolan dramas, A revolta da casa dos ídolos (1980) (The Revolt of the House of Idols) by Pepetela and Ana, Zé e os escravos (Ana, Zé and the Slaves 1980/1988) by José Mena Abrantes, focus on the effects of the slave trade on African society. The first Angolan drama highlights the establishment of the slave trade in Angola with the arrival of the Portuguese in the early sixteenth century. It depicts how traditional African society was undermined by outside forces such as the Roman Catholic Church and Portuguese slave traders as well as by the greed of the African upper classes. The second drama examines the lengthy process towards the abolition of slavery in the nineteenth century. It does this by dramatizing the lives of two historical figures linked to the slave trade and

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colonialism in Angola. In all three dramas, the playwrights question their own use of history as well as the role of organized religion and capitalism in the perpetuation of slavery. By depicting the difficult conditions suffered by their ancestors and the lengths to which many went in search of freedom, Lusophone historical dramatists treating slavery instruct modern audiences to turn their attention to that which threatens their hard-earned independence—namely, civil war and dictatorship. SLAVERY IN AFRICA AND BRAZIL

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he choice of slavery as a metaphor for oppression in Lusophone drama is appropriate for Angola and Brazil, given its long history and lasting effects in both countries. As an institution slavery goes back millennia and has been a constant feature of human history, appearing in nearly every part of the world. We can trace it back to the earliest civilizations of Mesopotamia and Egypt, and we can discover it in more recent societies at various levels of development. (Phillips 3)

Some of the earliest written documents have references to the enslavement of one people by another. Whether because of race or religion or as a result of war, individuals have bought and sold others, forcing them to work and treating them cruelly. The relationship between slaveowner and slave was one of ultimate hierarchical power and control. The owner governed every aspect of the slave’s life. A slave was property. The slaveowner’s rights over his slave-property were total, covering the person as well as the labor of the slave. The slave was kinless, stripped of his or her old social identity in the process of capture, sale and deracination, and denied the capacity to forge new bonds of kinship through marriage alliance. These are the three basic components of slavery. They reveal its uniqueness and explain its appeal to owners. There were other types of ‘unfree’. Chattel slavery has been historically a rare mode of unfreedom. But no other labor system offered a proprietor such flexibility and control over his labor force as did chattel slavery. (Garnsey 1–2)

A slave had no right to self-determination and could not form a family or derive personal benefit from labor. Her/his life was literally in the hands of the slave owner. In the case of Africa in general, slavery existed long before the arrival of Europeans in the fifteenth century. Throughout Northern

Breaking the Bonds: Slavery and Rebellion

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and Southern Africa, slavery was an established institution in society, and there were numerous ways in which slaves could be acquired.2 During times of famine children were sometimes exchanged for food. In other cases newborns considered supernaturally dangerous, such as twins in some societies, were abandoned and picked up by members of other tribes. At times, people became slaves as a result of the actions of others. “Compensation for homicide and other crimes was commonly paid in people—usually children from the offending kin group and not the actual transgressors” (Kopytoff and Miers 13). Slaves were also captured during raids or battles with neighboring tribes. Once captured, the slaves were absorbed into the new tribe, reflecting the interest of the African societies in expanding their numbers through the inclusion of outsiders. The nature of slavery changed with the introduction of the slave trade to the New World. According to Katia Mattoso, Interest in the slave trade did not really develop until the discoverers of the New World, disappointed at not having found the fabulous riches described by travelers to the Orient, realized that these vast new territories called for new modes of exploitation. (9)

In areas such as Brazil, in which they found neither gold nor silver, European explorers looked for other means to make a profit and justify their journey. The fertile soil provided an answer, and sugar cane cultivation was introduced in Northeastern Brazil. Since the farming of this crop was labor intensive and the nomadic native tribes of Brazil were not suited to the harsh conditions required to work the land, the Portuguese sought another source of labor and found it in the African slave. During the slave trade, men, women, and children were captured by Europeans or African traders and sold to traders living in coastal regions. The captives were then placed in holding pens or prisons until ships arrived to take them to the Americas. The voyage in cramped ships called negreiros was perilous, as hundreds of slaves were chained together for months and many died during the journey. Many died of suicide, melancholy and disease. Other Africans jumped overboard to drown in the ocean rather than subject themselves to the horrific conditions on board ship. Others died from a phenomenon called ‘fixed melancholy.’ Even slaves who were well fed, treated with kindness, and kept under relatively sanitary conditions would

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Metaphors of Oppression in Lusophone Historical Drama often die, one after another, for no apparent reason; they had simply lost the will to live. (Cowley and Mannix 108)

Unexplicable illnesses such as ‘fixed melancholy’ or depression frequently affected slaves being transported to the New World. Other sources of pestilence on board the ships were diseases such as smallpox, measles, gonorrhea, syphilis, yellow fever, dengue, blackwater fever, dysentery and malaria, “which was not specifically African, but which most of the slaves carried in their blood streams” (Cowley and Mannix 109). Given the unsanitary conditions, disease and infection spread quickly. All told, it is estimated that at least 15% of African slaves taken across the Atlantic died in transit during the infamous “Middle Passage” (Smith and Samuels 62). As a result of the slave trade, African populations were severely depleted as men, women, and children were captured and sold to slave traders.3 Their political institutions and religious beliefs were threatened by the empire-building Europeans and their clergy. Within decades of the first encounter between the Africans and those from Europe, traditional societies began to break down as the newcomers had little regard for their host countries, aside from their human resources. Some African groups, however, such as tribal chiefs and the middlemen who captured slaves for sale to the Europeans, benefited greatly from the slave trade. Kopytoff and Miers explain the role of the middlemen in the slave trade and how this group grew as a result of the profitable business in the sale of people: A rise in the number of transactions will open up new niches for middlemen. The importance of such systemic relations should not be minimized, for it means that changes in some elements can bring profound transformations to the total configuration. For example, when the existence of an overseas outlet for selling people leads to the rise of entrepreneurship in this field, the transformation is indeed profound. (71)

The African slave trade had an enormous effect upon all aspects of the economy, including the creation of labor for those who worked in the acquisition and distribution of slaves. Just as in any other aspect of the economy, there will always be someone willing to meet the demand of a valuable commodity. On the other side of the ocean, the Africans who survived the perilous journey were usually separated from their fellow tribesmen and sold together with those who spoke different languages so as to lessen the chance of revolt. Between the middle of the sixteenth


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century and the end of the seventeenth, a vast majority of Africans bought by Portuguese traders went to the Brazilian Northeast to work on sugar plantations.4 It was there that they were forced to adapt to life as slaves. Working conditions were harsh, as slaves were expected to labor from dawn to dusk every day except Sundays and holidays. Mortality rates were high due to poor nutrition and accidents with machinery used to cut and grind the sugar cane. Slaves who tried to flee or were difficult to control were subjected to any number of punishments, including beatings with a special whip designed to inflict pain without severely impairing the slave and the wearing of metal devices such as iron collars (colar de ferro) that impinged movement and made escape difficult. It was on the sugar plantations in Northeastern Brazil that slave owners tried to instill in the slave a sense of belonging in order to lessen the possibility of defiance. Sugar planters in the Northeast dropped violence and threats in favor of patriarchal and paternalistic forms of manipulation. They sought to make the slave a servant, a member of an extended family, to involve him in a modus vivendi that saved owners the expense of surveillance and diminished the risk of attacks on his person or property. (Mattoso 89)

Though the institution of slavery involved coerced labor, the slave owners sometimes attempted to make the situation as livable as possible for the slave. The slave owner acted as a firm-handed father figure rather than a hated taskmaster. This was done to foster obedience and loyalty and thus avoid the need to purchase new slaves to replace fugitives. Young slaves were raised in the home or casa grande of the plantation and played with the children of the slave owner, who were in turn nursed by slave maids. Yet beneath the seemingly good relations between master and slave lay the underpinnings of violence. Mattoso explains that [T]his equilibrium was fragile and could be upset by a trifle, leading to suicides, escapes, and individual or collective rebellion. Then the master was forced to resort to violence and repression. In fact, in the northeastern part of Brazil, a section reputed to be so attractive to slaves and so easy for them to adapt to, escapes and rebellions were most numerous and conflicts between masters and slaves most violent. (Mattoso 89–90)

No matter how benevolent a slave master attempted to be, slaves would try to gain their freedom in any way possible, including escapes and rebellion.

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Metaphors of Oppression in Lusophone Historical Drama SLAVE REVOLT

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or as long as slavery has existed, so have rebellions against this form of injustice. “All commentators agree that slaves detested their enslavement and in one way or another practiced resistance and sought their freedom. The most fearful specter for the masters was the prospect of slave revolts” (Phillips 14). After having treated their slaves with brutality, the slave owners feared similar hostility towards themselves and their families. In the case of racial slavery in the United States, slave owners were particularly fearful of black slaves raping their white wives and daughters.5 In some cases the slaves were successful in their quest for liberation, in others they were not. Either way, the revolt represented an organized attempt at breaking the bonds of slavery. Historic slave revolts have been the subject of storytellers and writers who, for generations, have described the unbearable conditions of slavery and the uprisings that ensued as examples of the hardearned price of liberty. Tales of slaves rising up against their masters in a quest for freedom reverberate throughout history. Examples of slave revolts include the story of Exodus in the Bible, in which Moses led the Hebrews out of Egypt, and that of Spartacus, who rebelled against his Roman holders.6 A well-documented slave revolt in Brazil is the Muslim Uprising of 1835 in Bahia. The revolt lasted only a day but had ramifications for the entire country. Hundreds of Malês, or Muslim Africans, participated and over seventy people lost their lives (Reis xiii). Free Bahians took part in quelling the uprising, illustrating “the cultural moat separating Brazilians (including slaves) from Africans (both slave and freed)” (Reis 231). After the rebellion, several hundred slaves were punished and a nationwide crackdown on slaves began. According to João José Reis, The Malê rebellion, for all intents and purposes, brought the cycle of African revolt in Bahia to a close. Except for unfounded rumors of a Malê conspiracy in 1844 in Salvador and another slave conspiracy in the Recôncavo in 1845, there is no news of further revolts. (232)

The 1835 revolt was the last major slave uprising in Brazil. The response of the Brazilian authorities as well as the unification of diverse elements in society helped keep slaves subdued until Abolition, more than five decades later (1888).


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SLAVERY AND THE SLAVE REVOLT IN AMERICAN FICTION

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n slaveholding societies in the New World, slavery and the slave revolt are themes in a variety of genres. In her 1984 dissertation, The Historical Slave Revolt and the Literary Imagination, Mary Kemp Davis examines five works of nineteenth- and twentiethcentury American fiction which depict slave revolts. The Heroic Slave (1853) by Frederick Douglass portrays the Creole mutiny of 1841, and Benito Cereno (1855) by Herman Melville focuses on the mutiny on the Spanish ship Tryal in 1804. The next two novels analyzed by Davis are by Arna Bontemp: Black Thunder (1936) describes the Gabriel Prosser Conspiracy of 1800, and Drums at Dusk (1939) treats the Haitian Revolution. The Confessions of Nat Turner (1967) by William Styron, about the 1831 Southampton Slave Revolt, is the most recent depiction of a slave revolt in Davis’s study. For Davis, the fictionalized slave revolt evolved from a theme used by abolitionists to attack slavery to a metaphor for social anarchy and religious fanaticism (3). Pauline Hopkins, one of the preeminent African-American women writers of the early twentieth century, also wrote about the mutiny aboard the slave-carrying ship Creole. In her 1901 rendition of the rebellion, Hopkins added fictional characters and romance to make the story of Madison Washington, the leader of the revolt, more compelling to her readers. According to John Cullen Gruesser, Hopkins’s biographer: In addition to exploiting the patriotic and romantic potential of Washington’s story, as her literary antecedents do, Hopkins incorporates into her version a theme particularly relevant to conditions that African Americans faced in 1901: the need for unified action to combat white oppression of both black men and black women. (Gruesser 99)

Hopkins was interested in using the historical revolt to encourage change in her own society. The author drew parallels between slavery and injustice in antebellum America and discrimination and prejudice after abolition. For Hopkins, the slave revolt was a justifiable means of overcoming oppression. Decades later, Amiri Baraka wrote Slave Ship (1970), an AfricanAmerican social protest play which he co-directed with Gilbert Moses. The play toured the Southern United States in small theaters during the summer of 1970. Both Baraka and Moses were interested

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in stirring up popular sentiment against the injustice experienced by African-Americans in the United States, especially in the South. They employed performative techniques and stage design in their play to achieve this goal. Slave Ship, through sparse dialogue, music, sound, and movement, chronicles African American history from its origins in Africa, through the oppressive experiences of Africans aboard slave ships during the Middle Passage, up to the struggles for civil rights and black power in the 1960s. (Elam 14)

The drama re-created the experience of the slave trade and slavery in America onstage using various theatrical and performative techniques. First, the directors designed an innovative set design—a cross section of a slave ship—to make the audience feel as if it were making the voyage to America with the actors. The audience was then exposed to what took place during the Middle Passage as actors performed scenes of rape, beatings and suicide. Baraka and Moses “eliminated any distance the audience members maintained from each other or from the performers” (Elam 15). When the barrier between the actors and the audience was removed, the audience became much more involved in what was taking place onstage. “Moses believed that the discomfort and dislocation of the spectators would make them more susceptible to the play’s messages of militancy and revolution” (Elam 16). The directors of Slave Ship wanted audiences to be uncomfortable with the performance so that they would revolt against the status quo for blacks in America. In more recent years, there have been few dramatic attempts to represent the theme of slavery on American television and film. According to Vern E. Smith and Allison Samuels, this is related to how the legacy of slavery is perceived in society. “Slavery is such a gash in the national psyche that mainstream American culture rarely dares to touch it; the ‘Roots’ mini-series was more than two decades ago” (60). More recently, the Steven Spielberg movie Amistad (1997), depicting the 1839 rebellion of African slaves on a Spanish ship, has brought the question of slavery back to American consciousness. The “Amistad incident,” as it was known at the time, involved a group of African slaves who killed most of their captors on board a vessel after being sold in Cuba. Their escape back to Africa failed when they were caught by the United States Coast Guard and returned to New


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England for trial. Their case became a cause célèbre of abolitionists who fought for their freedom against several parties who claimed ownership of them, including the Spanish government. After a lengthy waiting period in which their case eventually reached the U.S. Supreme Court, the surviving participants of the Amistad were finally returned to West Africa. Many scholars feel that Amistad’s cinematic portrayal is significant because of its subject matter. “What’s important is that it’s finally getting made—no matter who made it and as long as it’s quality work,” affirms Harvard sociology professor Orlando Patterson (Ansen and Samuels 65). For its supporters, the dramatization of the “Amistad incident” addresses an issue that many Americans do not want to think about: the long-term ramifications of slavery in America.7 At a time when there is much debate over whether the United States should apologize to African-Americans for the slavery of their ancestors and when friction between the races is on the rise, the movie Amistad sends the message that one cannot forget the past; “for nations, like people, distant memory of trauma can be submerged and repressed but never extinguished. It surfaces in words, in politics and sometimes in movies” (Smith and Samuels 58). In order to rectify the inequality between blacks and whites in America, some feel that a clearer understanding of the past injustice of slavery should be undertaken. Whereas the mutinies aboard slave ships are the dominant themes of North American fiction, the Haitian Revolution has fascinated writers of other languages. In El reino de este mundo (1949) (The Realm of This World) Alejo Carpentier employs magical realism to depict the slave revolt which led to the end of French colonialism in Haiti. Aimé Césaire also focuses on this period in his historical drama La Tragédie du Roi Christophe (1963) (The Tragedy of King Christophe). For Césaire the brutal regime of Henri Christophe (King Henry of Haiti, 1811–20), the first ruler of an independent Haiti, “is used to present the conflicting views of black African liberation current in the 1950s and 1960s” (Banham, Hill, and Woodyard 187). This Martinican writer viewed the process from slavery to despotic rule as a metaphor for twentieth-century decolonization and independence movements in Africa. Césaire was concerned that upon gaining independence many African leaders acted in ways which were

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detrimental to their countries’ socioeconomic and political development, such as the banning of opposition parties and the hoarding of economic aid. LUSOPHONE PLAYWRIGHTS AND HISTORICAL DRAMAS ABOUT SLAVERY

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he three Lusophone plays studied in this chapter reflect the ways in which the experience of slavery was perceived by playwrights writing in very different countries under dissimilar conditions. Augusto Boal and Gianfrancesco Guarnieri composed Arena conta Zumbi after the 1964 military coup d’etat in Brazil—a time when censorship was a formidable obstacle for playwrights. Though it would be four years before Institutional Act 5 would come into effect, making those involved with theater suspect to even more scrutiny, Boal and Guarnieri still needed to have their work pass a censorship bureau. The Angolans Pepetela and José Mena Abrantes, on the other hand, did not have to contend with institutionalized censorship. Their concerns were related to dramatizing a painful part of history in such a way as to unify a country divided by civil war. It is evident from these dramas that all four playwrights perceived slavery as a significant part of their nations’ past which not only had lasting ramifications in the present day but was also analogous to the problems facing their respective nations. Augusto Boal and Gianfrancesco Guarnieri, the playwrights of Arena conta Zumbi, were two of the early participants of the Teatro de Arena.8 Founded in São Paulo in 1953, Teatro de Arena was a group committed to experimenting with new forms of theater, some of which were influenced by Bertolt Brecht.9 The group was also interested in encouraging popular participation in the theater and broadening its audience to include the lower and middle classes.10 Teatro de Arena began staging original Brazilian works such as Eles não usam black-tie (1958) (They Don’t Wear Black Tie) by Gianfrancesco Guarnieri, one of Arena’s early successes. This play examined class differences in Brazilian society and the struggle of favela (slum) in Rio. By the early 1960s Teatro de Arena became more active in making theater a locus for “political expression and mobilization for political action” (Damasceno 66). Because of their political involvement, a number of Arena participants, such as Vianna Filho and Augusto Boal,were imprisoned and tortured.


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After the 1964 coup Teatro de Arena began staging plays that would challenge the military regime and its concept of Brazil. These plays drew from stories of Brazil’s past that would provide a corollary to the current repressive situation. History was re-written and retold with an emphasis on giving voice to the vanquished. Rather than privileging the conquerors of events, thereby reinforcing the statesponsored version of history, Arena sought to portray in a new light those who had been defeated. The intention was to encourage those outside the power structure, such as the Brazilian Left and the working class, to continue their fight for equality. Arena conta Zumbi was the first of a series of plays by the Teatro de Arena that was both historical and revolutionary.11 In it, playwrights Augusto Boal and Gianfrancesco Guarnieri adapted the story of Palmares from a book called Ganga Zumba (1962) by João Felício dos Santos (Campos 71). Palmares was the maroon community that existed in the hinterland of Pernambuco; during the seventeenth century runaway slaves under the leadership of Zambi formed the agricultural-based community. Palmares was so successful that it numbered nearly 20,000 inhabitants and had extensive trading networks with neighboring non-slave communities. Fearing widespread slave revolt and departure as well as a powerful autonomous community, the governor of Pernambuco demanded its destruction. In the end it took nearly five decades and thousands of men to defeat Palmares. Since its demise, Palmares remains in the national consciousness as a symbol of resistance against domination. Arena tells its version of Palmares in a two-act musical, which features a “cantador” or narrator played by different actors. According to Boal in Theatre of the Oppressed, “All the actors were grouped into a single category of narrators; the spectacle ceased to be realized from the point of view of each character and came to be narrated by a team” (170). In Act I slaves are treated brutally and encourage each other to run away to Palmares. There, under the leadership of Zambi, they work hard to become a productive agricultural community. The Palmarinos, or inhabitants of Palmares, sell their products to neighboring white villages. The peaceful relations between the two communities do not last, as the former landowners begin to complain about their loss of goods (the slaves) and encourage the once-friendly neighboring whites to cut off relations with the former slaves. Before long, the governor orders Palmares destroyed and in Act II,

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after a series of unsuccessful assaults, the whites ultimately destroy Palmares. Before its destruction, though, Ganga Zumba, the grandson of Zambi, is born and becomes leader of Palmares. Zambi responds to the impending end of Palmares in a statement reminiscent of Bertolt Brecht’s poem, “To Those Born Later” (ca. 1930). Two decades after Arena conta Zumbi, a pair of Angolan playwrights also link the past oppressive era of slavery to the contemporary period. In A revolta da casa dos ídolos, Pepetela uses the slave trade as an example of how Angolan society has been divided by outsiders in both the past and present. This three-act drama begins with two actors dressed as students discussing a sixteenth-century revolt against the Portuguese slave traders and the African groups which supported them. In Act I, an uncle and his nephew, named Nimi and Nanga respectively, discuss what has happened to the Kingdom of the Congo since the arrival of the Europeans. They describe the infiltration of the Roman Catholic missionaries and the conversion of the King to Christianity. In Act II, priests and soldiers gather the people’s amulets. This is a part of a conspiracy to divide the populace against the groups who support the slave trade, such as the African monarchy and nobility. At the beginning of Act III, the audience is told that the house of amulets has been burned. Nimi and Masala, an escaped slave representing the younger generation, attempt to organize a revolt against the Portuguese and their African supporters. At the end of the play, the revolt is put down and a fantastic figure named Kuntuala describes the future that lies ahead for the Angolan people. In Ana, Zé e os escravos the slave trade is also portrayed as analogous to the sociopolitical situation of modern-day Angola. This drama was written by José Mena Abrantes and performed by the Grupo Xilenga in 1980, though it came out in print eight years later, in 1988. The main emphasis of the drama is on the reluctance of the slave merchants to give up their trade and the importance of slavery in the Portuguese colonization of Africa. Ana, Zé e os escravos is divided into five momentos, or acts, and twenty situações, or scenes. There are no intermissions or breaks between momentos and the situações take place directly in front of the audience. The props called for are simple and interchangeable: a black, cylinder-shaped wooden box, six wooden cubes and a large piece of wood. Abrantes also blends oral history, music and dance with poetry and other lit-


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erature derived from books about the period in question to create a collage effect. For Pepetela and José Mena Abrantes, the origins of the slave trade and the difficulties involved in abolishing it are symbolic of the incessant civil war in Angola. The arrival of Portuguese slave traders and the Roman Catholic Church in the Congo as depicted in A revolta da casa dos ídolos can be seen as foreshadowing the interference of outside forces in post-independence Angola. The reluctance of slave trade participants to discontinue their business in Ana, Zé e os escravos illustrates the unwillingness of warring parties in the civil war to end the fighting. In both dramas history is used to help presentday audiences better understand their troubled past and look for answers in the quest for peace. THE USES OF HISTORY

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n all three dramas, the playwrights draw attention to their use of history in the portrayal of slavery. Boal, Guarnieri, Pepetela and Mena Abrantes point out that their depiction of history is different from that of the textbooks for both artistic and ideological reasons. In the case of Arena conta Zumbi, a revised version of history is used to illustrate the ways in which history has been written in favor of those in power. The question of historical authority and authenticity is also addressed in the Angolan dramas, especially in Ana, Zé e os escravos. In this drama, Mena Abrantes incorporates oral history in his depiction of the enslavement of the Africans by the Europeans. In so doing, this playwright demonstrates how those who did not write the history books, namely the Africans themselves, viewed a painful passage in their history. Playwrights Augusto Boal and Gianfrancesco Guarnieri openly admit to rewriting history in their portrayal of Palmares in Arena conta Zumbi. In the preface there is a long introduction about the historical sources of the drama: Estudamos documentos coisa escrita, assinada, mas deixamos o coração fazer a peça animada... Há lenda e há mais lenda Há verdade e há mentira, de tudo pegamos um pouco

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Metaphors of Oppression in Lusophone Historical Drama mas de forma que servira A entender no dia de hoje quem está com a verdade, quem está com a verdade, quem está com a mentira. (Boal and Guarnieri 12) [We studied documents Things written and signed But we let our heart Animate the play... There is legend and more legend There is truth and there are lies We took a little from everywhere But in a way that would help To understand Today Who is with the truth Who is with the truth Who is with the lies.]

In this text, the authors interrogate the truthfulness of recorded history. By questioning who is on the side of truth and who on that of lies,(“quem está com a verdade/quem está com a mentira”) the playwrights challenge the information given by those in authority. While conventional history is written by those in power, Arena is interested in giving voice to the vanquished.12 Instead of privileging those who destroyed Palmares, the playwrights provide a different perspective—that of the former slaves. In this way Arena conta Zumbi sends the message that those outside the power structure, such as the Brazilian Left and the working class, should be heard. In Arena conta Zumbi, the playwrights creatively rewrite history, using myth and other less-than-exact documentation. They do so to spread their message of displeasure with the military government without invoking censorship. According to Robert Anderson: The historical allegory had the political advantage of being patriotic while harnessing the power of national myths and heroes for the ideological purposes at hand. Also, the indirection of the allegories provided cover under which opponents could continue to attack the government. Initially, the cover worked; Zumbi suffered only one cut by the censors in its first run. In the line “A Igreja e o Estado em perfeita harmonia, só faltava o Exército”, The Church and the State in perfect harmony, all we needed was the Army censors required the substitution of “os bandeirantes” the explorers for “o


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Exército” the army [Campos 15]. Thus, censorship unwittingly collaborates in the creation of new metaphors, and the interpretive game is extended to decoding them. Eventually the federal government began forbidding any historical work of art for fear that it might be allegorical! (23)

Arena conta Zumbi carefully constructed an attack on the regime by drawing upon material that was considered patriotic. Government censors missed the historical allegory and inadvertently played into the hands of the playwrights. They even helped make new interpretations of the allegory by obliging the writers to make changes that would extend the critique of history. Pepetela sets A revolta da casa dos ídolos as a history lesson for contemporary audiences. The drama begins with a sign above the stage reading, “Reino do Kongo, 1514.” The Kingdom of the Congo, 1514 Two actors dressed as students appear and discuss how and why the historical events and personalities are presented in the drama. This device is much like Brecht’s Lehrstück [Learning] plays, which sought to instruct audiences in ways they might change society. Pepetela’s message informs modern Angolan audiences about the roots of slavery and challenges them to learn from the mistakes of their ancestors. The two narrators clue the audience in to what is taking place in the Kingdom of the Congo: APRESENTADOR 1. Sobre o Reino do Kongo, no princípio do século XVI, há quase quinhentos anos, somos tão ignorantes, tão ignorantes, que o melhor é seguir o exemplo daquele sábio que nos ensinou olhar para a floresta e não tentarmos ver as árvores uma a uma, senão perdemo-nos. APRESENTADOR 2. Como se fosse possível! Há sempre uma árvore mais bonita ou mais feia que dá a personalidade própria à floresta. APRESENTADOR 1. É a floresta que faz a árvore ou a árvore que faz a floresta? Oh, claro, a figura de Nanga está destinada a ser controversa. Seria possível que um Nanga tivesse idéias tão próximas das nossas? APRESENTADOR 2. E é ele que se põe questões...Devia ser eu, ou vocês. APRESENTADOR 1. A peça que vão ver é feita de factos reais. As personagens, excepto as que realmente viveram, são inventadas. APRESENTADOR 2. Ficamos na mesma. Quem as vai distinguir? APRESENTADOR 1. Contamos com a vossa inteligência para saber quais as históricas e as que talvez tenham vivido mas os historiadores não as fixaram. Por vezes, ou sempre, as mais importantes são as anónimas. (Pepetela 13–14) [FIRST PRESENTER. We know so little about the Kongo kingdom of the early sixteenth century. It’s been almost five hundred years ago, yet we are so ignorant, so ignorant, that it’s best to follow the example of the wise man

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who taught us to look at the forest and not try to see the trees one by one, or else we’d get lost. SECOND PRESENTER. As if that were possible! There is always one tree that is more beautiful or ugly that gives the forest its unique personality. First Presenter: Is it the forest that makes the tree or the tree that makes the forest? Oh, of course, the figure of Nanga is destined to be controversial. Is it possible that such a Nanga existed, with ideas so close to ours? SECOND PRESENTER. And it is he who asks these questions...it should be me, or you. FIRST PRESENTER. The play that you are going to see is derived from real facts. The characters, except those who really lived, are invented. SECOND PRESENTER. It’s all the same. Who can tell them apart? FIRST PRESENTER. We will have to count on your intelligence to determine which of them are historical and which perhaps lived, but the historians didn’t find them? Sometimes, or always, the most important ones are anonymous. ]

In this dialogue the First Presenter explains that, because not much is known about the exact circumstances of what took place five hundred years ago, some liberties were taken in the dramatization of the story. Fictional characters, like that of Nanga, were added. Here, the playwright is concerned that some of the characters and therefore the drama as a whole will not be accepted as “real” and wants to clarify that the general history of what took place is true. Pepetela hopes that the audience will be willing to accept the overall story, or “forest,” rather than focus on the details, or “trees.” In Ana, Zé e os escravos, the question of history is introduced in the initial part of the drama as well. In the printed version of the drama, the title is elongated and reads: Ana, Zé e os escravos ou As reais e supostas venturas e desventuras de uma “filha do país”, comerciante angolana de escravos angolanos (D. Ana Joaquina), e de um “bandido social” português tornado colono pela força das circunstâncias (José do Telhado), no período que vai da abolição do tráfico da escravatura (1836) até ao fim oficial da condição de escravo (1878). (Abrantes i) [Ana, Zé and the Slaves, or the real and the supposed adventures and misadventures of a “daughter of the country”, an Angolan slave trafficker of angolan slaves (D. Ana Joaquina) and a popular Portuguese bandit, turned colonialist by circumstances (José do Telhado) in the period from the abolition of slave traffic(1836) until the official end of slavery (1878).]

The first line of the title questions the authenticity of the history presented in the drama. The words “as reais e supostas venturas e


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desventuras (the real and supposed adventures and misadventures) leave the audience wondering whether the drama is in fact verifiable. By linking famous figures such as Portuguese outlaw José do Telhado and D. Ana Joaquina herself with historical events and dates, Mena Abrantes personifies history and makes it accessible to the audience. In writing the drama, the playwright makes use of additional sources on D. Ana Joaquina and José do Telhado. In the creation of the dramatic version of D. Ana Joaquina’s life, Abrantes draws from other novels, plays and historical documents, including Uma rica dona de Luanda (A Rich Woman of Luanda) by Júlio de Castro Lopo, O segredo da morta (The Secret of the Dead Woman) by António de Assis Júnior, and Alguns aspectos da administração de Angola em época de reformas (1834–1851) (Some Aspects of the Administration of Angola During the Time of Reforms) by Mário António Fernandes Oliveira. For the second historical character in this drama Mena Abrantes uses selections from José do Telhado—romance histórico and José do Telhado em África (romance histórico) (historical novel) by Eduardo de Noronha, Zé do Telhado (teatro) (theater) by Helder Costa, and Memórias do cárcere (Jail Memoirs) by Camilo Castelo Branco. By drawing from so many sources, Abrantes acknowledges past authors and researchers of D. Ana Joaquina and José do Telhado and indicates how these figures left their mark on Angolan history and legend. José Mena Abrantes also incorporates oral history in his drama. The first momento scene is a description of the initial encounter between Europeans and Africans leading to the slave trade. It begins before the arrival of the Europeans with a group of actors dressed in black on the stage with their hands touching a black box “como se dela recebessem uma qualquer energia vital” (as if they received some vital energy from it) (Abrantes 13). Before long a sound is heard and a glaring light is visible. Actors dressed in white enter the scene and “capture” those in black using sheets. After the action takes place, a narrator reads the following text adapted from Eastern Bapende oral history: Nossos pais viviam numa grande planície junto ao mar. Tinham animais e culturas. Tinham salinas e bananeiras... De repente viram sobre o mar surgir um grande barco... Este barco tinha asas muito brancas, brilhantes como facas...

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Os homens brancos saíram da água e ficaram imóveis na praia... Os nossos antepassados tiveram medo. Disseram que eram os “vumbis”, os espíritos que regressam. . Repeliram-nos para o mar com frechadas... Mas os “vumbis” vomitaram fogo com um barulho de trovão... Muitos homens foram mortos. Muitos fugiram. Outros ficaram junto do grande mar... Então os homens brancos desembarcaram de novo. Pediam galinhas e ovos. Davam tecidos e missangas... Pediam ouro, marfim, escravos!(Abrantes 15) [Our ancestors lived on a great plateau near the sea. They had crops and animals. They had salt rocks and banana trees Suddenly they saw an enormous boat appear on the sea... This boat had wings that were very white, brilliant like knives... The white men left the water and were imobile on the beach... Our ancestors were afraid. They said that these were vumbis, spirits that returned. . They repelled them to the sea with arrows But the vumbis vomited fire with the sound of thunder Many men were killed. Many fled. Others stayed near the great sea... And then the white men got out again. They asked for chickens and eggs. They gave clothing, and missals...they demanded gold, ivory, slaves! ]

This selection dramatizes how Africans view their initial confrontation with white men. Rather than focusing on dates, the oral history privileges the actions which took place between them as well as the interpretation of European technology in terms of that with which the Africans were familiar—animals and spirits. The sails are seen as wings and the whites with their cannons are described as powerful spirits, or vumbis. The color of the clothing and makeup of the actors defines the two groups as black and white. The black group, or Africans, become enslaved through performance and remain as a constant presence onstage. Todos os elementos do grupo de escuro, a partir de agora identificados como “escravos”, são empurrados com a ajuda das grades para o fundo do espaço cénico. Estarão permanentemente em cena, implorando, protestando, cantando, ouvindo, numa palavra, participando activamente na acção. (Abrantes 15) [All the parts of the darker group hereafter identified as “slaves”, are pushed with the help of bars to the back of the scenic space. They will remain permanently onstage, imploring, protesting, singing, listening in a word, actively participating in the action.]

The permanent presence of the black slaves onstage reflects how the


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playwright views the question of slavery in Angolan history. It is an issue that cannot be dismissed, nor resolved quickly or easily. The inclusion of this scene at the beginning of Ana, Zé e os escravos emphasizes the importance of oral history for the African writer and audience. For centuries, African history was defined by non-Africans or Europeans who, along with the power of firearms, had the pen to define the civilization of peoples they knew little about. Without knowledge of African language and culture, the European historians omitted oral tradition. In these historical, dramas the African playwright seeks to rectify the way African history is perceived and related to the post-colonial audience. As with Francophone African playwrights such as Dadié and Charles Nokan, Pepetela and Abrantes demonstrate that history is as much a legacy of the history-conscious oral traditions of dramatists as it is a felt, nationalist need to present a dramatic corrective to the colonial view of the African past. (Banham, Hill and Woodyard 8–9)

By incorporating many elements of history—from documented sources to traditional storytellers—these dramas present a more credible past to a twentieth-century audience. THE CHURCH

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n all three historical dramas, the Roman Catholic Church is featured as both an active and passive participant in the slave trade. The playwrights highlight the hypocrisy of the Church and the disparity between its teachings and actions in Brazil and Angola. In Arena conta Zumbi, characters use religion and the Bible to justify their inconsistent actions towards Palmares. The Padre in A revolta da casa dos ídolos masterminds a conspiracy to undermine the King and firmly establish the slave trade in the Congo. In Ana, Zé e os escravos, the Padre looks the other way as Africans continue to be sold even after the official abolition of slavery. Representatives of the Church in Arena conta Zumbi are depicted as approving of slavery. Rather than standing up against the ill treatment of African slaves by their owners, the Priest condones their behavior. An example of this occurs when Clotilde, the slaveowner’s wife, turns to the Priest for reassurance after having Gongoba, Ganga Zumba’s mother, beaten to death. She confesses her role in the slave woman’s death and seeks absolution for her offense:

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CLOTILDE. Sabe, padre, meu coração é tão mole...Eu sinto até uma pitadinha de remorsos... PADRE. Remorsos, senhora dona Clotilde? Remorsos não se há de tê-los por muito zelo para com aqueles que de nós dependem. Para a salvação das almas mais aproveita o castigo em sendo mais que em sendo menos. Em sendo mais, melhor prá eles que mais fácilmente ganham o reino dos céus. CLOTILDE. Mas morrer assim, sem religião... PADRE. Pode ficar tranquila. Vou correndo dizer ao bispo que a culpa foi toda do feitor. O bispo é compreensivo. CLOTILDE. E me faça um favor. Passando pelo mercado, dê uma olhada e veja se tem lá uma negra boa, de muitos quefazeres para o serviço da casa. PADRE. Pois não, senhora dona. Eu mesmo careço de uma que seja de serventia na casa Paroquial. (Boal and Guarnieri 61–63) [CLOTILDE. You know father, my heart is so weak. I even feel a smidgen of remorse. PRIEST. Remorse, my dear Clotilde? There doesn’t need to be much remorse for those who depend on us. For the salvation of souls, punishment should be more, not less. The greater the punishment, the better for them, to enter the kingdom of heavan. CLOTILDE. But to die this way, without religion... PRIEST: You can relax. I was running to tell the bishop that the fault was all that of the sinner. The bishop is understanding. CLOTILDE. And do me a favor. When you go through the market, see if there is a nice black woman there, the kind that can do housework. PRIEST. Of course, dear lady. I myself am in need of one for the parochial house.]

The Priest and Clotilde are not as upset by Gongoba’s death as by the fact that she was not given final rites. Clotilde’s guilt is easily resolved by the Priest’s going to the Bishop, who will surely absolve her. By picking up new slave women for their homes, the two illustrate how easily replaceable they consider the slaves. In addition to the insensitive actions of individual priests, organized religion is depicted as hypocritical in this drama. An example of this is the use of the Bible by the merchants to at first justify and later condemn their transactions with the Palmarinos: COMERCIANTES. Nós os brancos comerciantes nos guiamos pela Bíblia, o livro santo diz ser pecado matar o negro trabalhador. Não deixaremos ser massacrado o povo heróico e sofredor. (Boal and Guarnieri 47) [MERCHANTS. We the white merchants are guided by the Bible: The holy book says that it is a sin to kill a black worker. We will not let the heroic and suffering people be massacred.]


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Here, the Bible is used to protect the hardworking black neighbor. The merchants pledge to protect Palmares. But their promise does not last. Before long they team up with the Lords of the Land-grants and use the same Bible to attack their former friends. COMERCIANTES. Nós os brancos comerciantes, nos guiamos pela Bíblia o livro santo prevê este caso no Evangelho de Ezequiel: Com a rebeldia não há concórdia. Punir com firmeza é uma forma de demonstrar misericórdia. (Boal and Guarnieri 47) [MERCHANTS. We the white merchants, we are guided by the Bible, The holy book foresees this case in the Gospel of Ezequiel: With rebellion there isn’t agreement. Punishing firmly is one way to demonstrate mercy.]

Race overcomes economic interests, and religion is the bonding force that unites the wealthy Donos das Sesmarias and the Comerciantes. It is interesting to note that there is no “Evangelho de Ezequiel” in any version of the Bible, revealing an additional ironic gesture on the part of the playwrights. COMERCIANTES and DONOS DAS SESMARIAS. Nós os brancos, senhores da terra Nós os brancos comerciantes Resolvemos em santa união dar fim ao povo rebelde exterminar a subversão. (Boal and Guarnieri 48) [MERCHANTS AND LANDOWNERS. We the white people, owners of the land We the white owners Resolve to form a holy union To put an end to the rebel people To exterminate the subversion.]

Regardless of economic advantage or disadvantage among the whites, they declare war against the blacks. This suggests that regardless of what the Brazilian authorities may say, race is a major factor in determining socioeconomic status in Brazil.13 It also denotes how Arena viewed the Roman Catholic Church as complicit with the military in oppressing the poor of Brazil. Following the coup in 1964 the Church failed to protest the military’s intrusion in politics. According to Scott Mainwaring: Groups within the Church, concerned about a threat of Communism or of social disintegration and disorder, allied themselves with the anti-Left

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forces. Within the Church, the sharpest anti-Left reaction was in the Catholic Right, which between 1963 and 1968 enjoyed a high profile in Brazilian politics. Closely linked to the military movement that deposed Goulart, with a reactionary ideology and morality, the Catholic Right thrived during the first years of military rule and lent its support to the authoritarian regime. (Mainwaring 81)

The Church was supportive of the military regime because it suppressed communism. It did not openly attack the government in the beginning due to its intense opposition to the Left. Only later, when human rights abuses became better known and members of the clergy were themselves attacked, did the Church take a stand against the military.14 The portrayal of the Roman Catholic Church is equally negative in A revolta da casa dos ídolos. In the beginning of the drama, outside forces plant the seeds of division among the people. The two groups responsible for this are the Church and the Portuguese slave traders. The Catholic Church in particular is depicted as complicit with the slave traders, as it converts the King of the Congo to Christianity and undermines the traditional belief system in the region. In Act I, Nimi and Nanga discuss what has happened to society since the King converted. The two are seated on the right side of the stage while on the left side of the stage the King, the Portuguese Captain, the priests and soldiers act out Nimi’s description of their encounter (Pepetela 15): NIMI. Quando nasceste, o Rei Nzinga-a-Nkuvu governava o Kongo. Tinha vários filhos e o mais velho era Mbemba Nzinga. NIMI.Chegaram então brancos em navios ao Mpinda Trouxeram presentes para o Rei. Voltaram para as suas terras com presentes. Tempos depois, outros vieram. E chegaram até aqui. Os presentes eram uns pedreiros para fazerem um palácio para o Rei, e uma Igreja. E padres. E outros presentes. Uns partiram, os padres ficaram. Sabes tudo isso. NANGA. Sei, sim. E cada vez vieram mais brancos, e soldados com armas que fazem barulho. NIMI. E matam mais que as nossas zagaias. O que os brancos queriam era sobretudo homens para levarem para a terra deles, Portugal. NANGA. Escravos. NIMI. O Rei Nzinga-a-Nkuvu acabou por se deixar convencer pelos padres e renegou as nossas crenças. Mbema Nzinga, seu filho, também se baptizou. O Rei passou a chamar-se D. João I e o seu filho D. Afonso. Mas o povo chamou-lhes sempre pelos seus nomes. (Pepetela 18–19) [NIMI. When you were born, King Nzinga-a-Nkuvu ruled the Kongo. He had


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several sons and the oldest was Mbemba Nzinga. NIMI. Then the whites arrived in boats at Mpinda. They brought presents for the King. They returned to their lands with presents. A while later, others came all the way here. The presents were masons to build a palace for the King and a church. And priests. And other presents. Some left, the priests stayed. You know all of this. NANGA. Yes, I know. And each time more whites arrived, and soldiers with weapons that made noise. NIMI. Which kill more than our spears. What the whites wanted most were men to take back to their land, Portugal. NANGA. Slaves. NIMI. King Nzinga-a-Nkuvu let himself be convinced by the priests and renounced our beliefs. Mbema Nzinga, his son, also was baptized. The king soon called himself D. João I and his son D. Afonso. But the people always still called them by their names.]

Nimi explains to Nanga how the Portuguese won over the King by first converting him and his son to Christianity and then offering gifts. Once the King is let in on the profits from the slave trade, the demise of the kingdom begins. The additional advantage that the Portuguese have is their weapons, which are much more deadly than the African zagaias, or iron spears. Though the King converts to Christianity willingly, he has difficulties with his new faith because of polygamy. As King, he feels entitled to more than one wife. Yet the Church is opposed to this. NANGA. Os padres andavam sempre atrás dele, que só devia ter uma mulher... NIMI. Sim, isso é verdade. Aquele velho que já nem sabia quantas mulheres tinha...Os filhos enchiam uma sanzala! Sim, ele zangou-se de vez por causa disso. Mas já para o fim. Muita gente o ouviu pôr os padres na rua, aos berros, de que não admitia que o chamassem de pecador por causa das mulheres....Esses padres! A um escravo, que nada possui que não consegue arranjar mais que uma mulher podem convencer que é bom ter só uma...Não pode ter mais. Mas a um Rei! É preciso ser louco. (Pepetela 27–28) [NANGA. The priests were always after him telling him that he should have one wife... Nimi. Yes, this is the truth. That old man, who no longer even knew how many women he had...His children could fill a village. Yes, he was upset because of this. But now for the end. A lot of people heard him put the priests out in the street screaming, that they could not call him a sinner because of women. Those priests! You can convince a slave who cannot acquire more than one woman that it’s good to have only one...but a king! You’d have to be crazy.]

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This exchange shows how difficult it is for the customs of the Europeans to be completely adopted by the Africans. Whereas a rich man in African society—especially a king—feels entitled to many wives, the practice does not sit well with the Church. The priests in A revolta da casa dos ídolos show little patience with the Africans and their religion. Rather than respecting the African spiritual beliefs, the representatives of the Roman Catholic Church threaten the people with the use of fire if they do not abandon their traditions: MPANZU-A-NZINGA. O teu filho foi para lá despeitado. Impôs a religião católica como única no Nsundi. Todos os que acreditam nas nossas tradições são queimados vivos. Não digas que não sabes. Todos os dias chegam aqui pessoas a fugir do Nsundi e contam o que lá se passa. REI. Sim. D. Afonso tem exagerado um bocado. Mas isso passa-lhe. MANI-VUNDA. Matar um inimigo é normal. Mas mata-se com ferro ou com pedra. Matar pelo fogo! Invenção dos padres. Matar pelo fogo. NIMI. O fogo cria vida. A zagaia nasce pela acção do fogo e do fogo que eu crio batendo no ferro. O espírito do fogo é um espírito bom que cria a vida. MANI-VUNDA. Só umas cabeças loucas podiam inventar essa tortura de matar pelo fogo. (Pepetela 21) [MPANZU-A-NZINGA. Your son went over there out of spite. He imposed the Catholic religion as the only one in Nsundi. All who believed in our traditions were burned alive. Don’t say you didn’t know. Every day people fleeing from Nsundi arrive here and tell us what is happening there. KING. Yes. D. Afonso goes a bit too far. But this goes beyond him. MANI-VUNA. To kill an enemy is normal. But you kill with iron or stone. To kill with fire! NIMI. Fire creates life. The spear is born through the action of the fire and from fire I create by hitting on iron. The spirit of fire is a good spirit that creates life. MANI-VUNDA. Only crazy minds could be able to invent this torture of killing by fire.]

For the Africans, fire symbolizes creation. The making of iron is used as an example. For the priests, however, fire is used to destroy and punish, akin to a hell on earth. As in the Inquisition, the use of a pyre was a powerful tool in “convincing” people to relinquish or modify their beliefs. Rather than using gentle persuasion, the priests inculcate the populace with fear if they do not give up their practices. The cruelty and hypocrisy of the padres is further described in Act I when a slave trader named Lopes offers the Padre a “present” in the


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form of a beautiful African virgin. Though both slave trader and priest talk about converting the girl, the underlying tone of their conversation alludes to other more lascivious intentions: LOPES. Sabendo que o senhor padre vive apenas para o ideal de salvar pagãs do fogo sagrado do Inferno, trouxe para ser salva uma rapariga de dezasseis anos, a coisa mais bela que os meus olhos viram. CAPITÃO. Caramba, que prenda! LOPES. Uma donzela verdadeira, de pele azulada de tão negra, cetim sob os meus dedos, uns olhos de gazela envergonhada, um anjo! PADRE. Para mim? LOPES. Para a Santa Madre Igreja Apostólica e Romana. Entrego-a ao seu vigário, evidentemente. PADRE. Virgem? LOPES. Virgem... PADRE. Como a Santa Madre Igreja vai ficar feliz por ter uma servidora destas! Logo que chegar, vou lançar-me ao trabalho de a converter. Tenho de lhe arranjar um leito macio. Não farei nada mais durante todo o dia senão ensinar-lhe a língua das Sagradas Escrituras e o temor ao Santo Nome de Deus. Obrigado, minha querida Virgem Maria, ouviste as minhas preces. (Pepetela 53–54) [LOPES. Knowing that dear priest lives merely for the goal of saving pagans from the sacred fire of Hell, I brought a young girl of sixteen years to be saved. She was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on. CAPTAIN. Oh my, what a gift! LOPES. A truly gorgeous one, with skin so black that it was blue, satin underneath my fingers, with eyes of a shamed gazelle, an angel! PRIEST. For me? LOPES. For the Saint Mother Apostle and Roman Church. I turn her over to your vigilance, obviously. PRIEST. A virgin? LOPES. A virgin... PRIEST. The Holy Mother Church will be happy with a servant like this! As soon as I arrive, I will turn myself over to converting her. I have to get her a soft bed. I will not do anything other than teaching her the language of the Sacred Scriptures and the fear of the holy name of god. Thank you, my dear Virgin Mary, you have heard my prayers.]

In this conversation the priest thinks about the young African girl as more than another young soul to convert. Though he states that his only wish is to save her through conversion, his concern with her virginity and providing a soft bed imply other intentions. At the end of Act II the reader is provided with an update on the young girl when the Captain inquires about her condition:

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CAPITÃO. A propósito, a moça adaptou-se? PADRE. Parece que sim. No princípio estava estranha de viver na casa de um branco. Mas, aos poucos, a Santa Religião vai penetrando nela...Até logo. CAPITÃO. Então é a Santa Religião que vai penetrando nela...Este padre é um finório! (Pepetela 95) [CAPTAIN. By the way, has the young girl adapted? PRIEST. It looks like it. In the beginning it was strange living in the house of a white man. But soon, the Holy Religion began to penetrate her...Goodbye. CAPTAIN. So, the Holy Religion is penetrating her...This priest is a sly dog.]

The exchange between the Captain and the Priest confirms what was alluded to earlier in Act I. In the last line the Priest explains that religion is penetrating the girl, but the Captain and the reader know better—it is the Priest himself who is engaging in intercourse with her. The Priest in A revolta da casa dos ídolos uses his position to conspire with the slave traders to spark a revolt against the King of the Kongo. He directs the soldiers to gather up all the peoples’ amulets and place them in a house. The Priest explains his actions to the trader Lopes and the Capitão who is in charge of the soldiers: PADRE. O Rei D. Afonso é muito sensível a esta história dos ídolos ou amuletos. O filho dele, D. Henrique que está a estudar para padre em Lisboa, escreveu-lhe para ter cuidado com as crendices populares que podem fazer perigar a vida espiritual do Reino. Evidentemente que foi aconselhado por nós. O certo é que o Rei ficou extremamente preocupado e aprovou o nosso plano de se proibirem todos estes feitiços. Assim a revolta do povo é canalizada contra o Rei pelo facto de permitir que lhe retiremos os feitiços. LOPES. Mas isso é perigoso! PADRE. Tudo é perigoso com este gentio, nunca se sabe como ele reage. Mas mais perigoso seria que eles se revoltassem contra o tráfico de gente. Ora nós sabemos que esta é a única maneira de salvar os desgraçados do fogo do Inferno. Enviá-los para S. Tomé ou para o Brasil, onde as suas almas serão assistidas e salvas. Ao mesmo tempo que ajudam a fazer as plantações de cana-de-açúcar. (Pepetela 55–57) [PRIEST. King D. Afonso is very sensitive about this story of idols or amulets. His son, D. Henrique, who is studying to be a priest in Lisbon, wrote him to be careful about the popular beliefs that could put the spiritual life of the kingdom at risk. Obviously, we advised him. What is certain is that the King has become extremely worried and approved our plan to prohibit all of these magic spells. This way the people’s revolt is channeled against the king for permiting us to take away the spells. LOPES. But this is dangerous! PRIEST. Everything is dangerous with these people, you never know how


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they will react. But it is more dangerous if they revolt against the slave trade. Listen, we know what is the only way to save these poor ones from the fire of Hell. Send them to São Tomé or to Brazil, where their souls will be helped and saved. At the same time, they will help with the sugar cane plantations.]

The Priest cynically ascertains that gathering up the people’s amulets will infuriate them and distract them from protesting against the slave trade. They in turn will rebel against their King and not directly against the Portuguese. Instead of protecting his people, the King listens to the priests and follows their advice. He does not realize that it is a ploy by the Portuguese to protect the slave trade at his expense. The plot to collect the amulets is tied to the overall scheme by the Portuguese to maintain and expand the slave trade. Because the King is also profiting from this institution, he does not acknowledge the danger involved with supporting the Europeans. According to Daniel Spikes, the cooperation of kings like the Mani Kongo in the slave trade led to the downfall of traditional African societies: [T]he undoing of Kongo, as it was of every kingdom on Africa’s coast, was the slave trade. The introduction of firearms and the willingness of European traders to deal with anyone able to procure the commodity rapidly upset local balances of power. So lucrative did slaving become for buyers and sellers alike that it eclipsed all other forms of commerce. The result for Africa was as devastating as it was paradoxical: the opening of European markets to Africa resulted in a dramatic drop in the production of African goods. The trade destroyed the power and prestige of the Mani Kongo. (Spikes 2)

The slave traders and their African counterparts undermined local balances of power. The quick profits involved in the sale of people led to the division of African society by creating economic, political and social turmoil. The conspiracy by the Priest to collect the amulets and upset the balance of power can be interpreted in the late twentieth century as the intervention of outside groups such as the South Africans, Cubans, Americans and Soviets in the civil war following independence. These groups offered warring Angolan factions “presents” or weaponry, military training and money in order to fuel division. Whereas in the sixteenth century the commodity that such groups coveted was slaves, in the twentieth century it was oil and minerals. In both time periods, the intervention of outside forces such as the Roman Catholic Church or Cold War adversaries divided the Angolan nation.

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In Ana, Zé e os escravos the Roman Catholic Church is also pictured as condoning the slave trade. Abrantes first introduces the religious theme with music in momento 2, situação 2: “começa a soar um cântico religioso” (Abrantes 17) (a religious chant begins to be heard). The following situação is that of a Mass in which the Padre declares that Christianity has led the fight against slavery: O Cristianismo, primeira religião que proclamou todos os homens irmãos, teve de lutar durante séculos contra a força das tradições, dos códigos, dos costumes, dos interesses e da vaidade animal, para impôr a eliminação da injustíssima distinção entre senhores e escravos. (Abrantes 18) [Christianity, the first religion that proclaimed all men brothers, had to fight for centuries against traditions, codes, customs, the interests of animal vanity, to force the elimination of the very injust distinction between masters and slaves].

This address, adapted from a 1892 sermon of D. Antonio Tomás da Silva Leitão e Castro, shows the Church’s official views of tolerance toward the Africans. Yet, directly after proclaiming that Christianity finds all people equal, this same Padre colludes with the slave trader D. Ana. She asks his opinions on the subject: D. ANA. Acredita no que acaba de dizer, Padre? PADRE. Acreditar, acredito apenas naquilo que um dos meus colegas no Brasil chamou ‘a pregação com a espada e a vara de ferro’...(agarra na cruz como se fosse uma espada) mas é preciso estarmos com o tempo. As coisas mudam para tudo poder ficar na mesma. A propósito, como vão os negócios? D. ANA. Não tenho tido razões para me queixar, nem pretendo tê-las no futuro. Com prudência e inteligência tudo se consegue. E com esta lei da abolição do tráfico, a procura vai de certeza aumentar. PADRE. Ainda bem! Pelo menos no cativeiro têm um contacto mais directo com a religião. São almas que se ganham para a fé de Cristo... D. ANA. Absolve-me então de eu ter maltratado pessoalmente um dos meus escravos? PADRE. Por Deus, D.Ana! Cada um é livre de celebrar à sua maneira o decreto da abolição da escravatura. (Abrantes 18–19) [D. ANA. I believe only what I just told you, Padre? PRIEST. Believe in what one of my colleagues in Brazil calls “preaching with a sword and an iron rod” (he grabs the cross as if it were a sword) but it is necessary to be with the times. Things have changed, only to remain the same. By the way, how is business? D. ANA. I don’t have any reasons to complain, nor do I plan to have in the future. With prudence and intelligence everything can be achieved. And


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with this abolition law, the demand will certainly increase. PRIEST. Even better! At least in prison there is more direct contact with religion. These are souls that one gains for the Christian faith. D. ANA. Do you absolve me then if I have ever personally mistreated any of my slaves? PRIEST. By God, D. Ana! Every one is free to celebrate the abolition decree in his or her own way.]

Even though the Church supports abolition, the Priest sees no problem with the continued existence of slavery, nor with the cruelty that goes along with it. For him more slaves mean more souls to save. D. Ana is well aware of the Church’s official stand and yet knows that she will have little opposition from it in plying her trade. In this scene the Priest seizes his cross as if it were a sword, symbolizing the importance of the Church in the militant colonization of Africa, Asia and the New World. The non-intervention of the Priest in the slave-trading business of D. Ana can be interpreted as the lack of interest shown by nonAfrican countries in helping warring parties in Angola come to the peace table. The Church was intricately involved in setting up the slave trade but did not try to stop it with the same intensity of interest. In the twentieth century, Cold War adversaries had no qualms about supplying and arming opposing factions in the Angolan civil war but showed little concern for stopping the war and disarming rival factions once their own dispute was resolved. Instead, Angola is still filled with land mines and other devices sold by outside forces. CAPITALISM

I

n Arena conta Zumbi, A revolta da casa dos ídolos and Ana, Zé e os escravos the playwrights critique modern-day capitalism through the metaphor of slavery. The existence of different socioeconomic classes and the exploitation of the poor worker (slave) by the rich (slaveowner and trader) is one of the analogies made by both the Brazilian and Angolan playwrights. Boal and Guarnieri highlight the subhuman conditions of slavery and allude to similar circumstances for workers in the twentieth century. In Arena conta Zumbi, the construction and short-term success of Palmares is a vindication for socialism. Its destruction by wealthy plantation owners and the government underscores the fear that these groups have towards organized labor. In the Angolan historical dramas, the playwrights draw

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attention to the devastating effects which occur when individuals and governments place profit-making above community. In Arena conta Zumbi, the critique of capitalism in twentiethcentury Brazil is made in several ways. First, slavery in the historical drama is depicted as inhumane and brutal. In Act I slaves are bought and sold at markets just like other salable goods. There is a market scene in which a merchant discusses the attributes of his chattel: MERCADOR. Olha o negro recém-chegado. Magote novo, macho e fêmea em perfeito estado de conservação. Só vendo moço e com forças. Pra serviço de menos empenho tem os mais fracos e combalidos, pela metade do cobrado. Quinze mil réis o são, sete mil e quinhentos os tropiados. Escravo angolano purinho. Olha o escravo recém-chegado, magote novo, macho e fêmea. (Boal and Guarnieri 19–20) [MERCHANT. Look at the newly arrived black. A young male and female in perfect states of conservation. I’m only seeing young men and strong ones. For lighter work, there are the weaker and worn-out types for half the price. Fifteen thousand mil-reis for the healthy and half the price for the weaker and the worn-out. Pure Angolan slave. Look at the recently arrived slave, new Magote, male and female.]

Like livestock, the slaves are described in terms of their physical prowess and the work they can perform. They are seen not as human beings but rather as commercial items that can be used and abused. Indeed, as property the slave is treated cruelly. In Arena conta Zumbi there are several episodes in which the heartless treatment of slaves is graphically described. In one scene actors list the types of instruments used to punish slaves: ATOR. Se desagradava ao branco ATOR. Tronco ATOR. Pescoço, pés e mãos imobilizados entre dois grandes pedaços de madeira retangular. ATOR. Se houvesse ofensa mais grave ATOR. Viramundo. ATOR. Pequeno instrumento de ferro que prendia pés e mãos do escravo forçando-o a uma posição incômoda durante vários dias. ATOR. Se a ofensa requeria castigo mais prolongado ATOR. Cepo. ATOR. Longo toro de madeira que o negro deveria carregar à cabeça preso por uma corrente ao tornozelo. (Boal and Guarnieri 20–22) [ACTOR. If they displeased the white man. ACTOR. The trunk.


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ACTOR. Neck, feet, and hands immobilized between two large rectangular pieces of wood. ACTOR. If it is a more serious offense. ACTOR. Viramundo. ACTOR. A small iron device that hold the hands and feet of the slave, forcing him into an uncomfortable position for many days. ACTOR. If the offense requires a longer punishment ACTOR. Cepo. ACTOR. A long piece of wood that the black must carry on his head tied by a chain to the elbow.]

The variety of instruments and devices used to inflict pain and injury on the slaves reflects the barbarity of the institution itself. In the performance of Arena conta Zumbi the violent nature of slavery is reinforced when “slides ilustrativos são manipulados por um quarto ator. Um quinto arranja a tela” illustrative slides are manipulated by a fourth actor. A fifth arranges the screen (Boal and Guarnieri 20). In Brechtian fashion, slides of the torture instruments are shown on a screen. This view of torture is effective in making the audience visualize the multiple ways in which the slave was coerced into working. By portraying how the slaves were sold like livestock and mistreated with instruments of torture, the playwrights are also making a commentary about the contemporary period. Working conditions in the factories and farms of Brazil were not good and the worker had little recourse of appeal due to tight restrictions on unions and other organizations during the dictatorship. The business elite viewed the working class as replaceable and held them in “economic bondage,” forcing them to work long hours for little pay. Class division and warfare is another aspect of capitalism explored in Arena conta Zumbi. At the beginning of the drama, Palmares has a good relationship with the neighboring communities. As Palmares grows and prospers, it begins to sell its agricultural produce to towns such as Porto Calvo. The audience is told the types of goods sold to the area merchants such as cana, argila trabalhada, azeite, milho and hortaliça (Boal and Guarnieri 45). Sugar cane, refined clay, olives, corn and parsley. The description of the commerce between Porto Calvo and Palmares corresponds with historical documents that “referemse reiteradamente à produtividade (no sentido de abastecimento) maior em Palmares do que nos latifúndios, dedicados exclusivamente à produção para o mercado externo” (Costa 119). (Repeatedly

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refers to greater productivity (in the sense of provisioning) in Palmares than on large landed estates dedicated exclusively to production for the external market). Palmares did indeed put its emphasis on varied crop production for local consumption and began to develop like any other village. Because of its population—former slaves—the reaction of whites to this bustling community differs. First there are the local Comerciantes in the hinterland who buy produce from Palmares and want to be on friendly terms with the Palmarinos: COMERCIANTES. Nós os brancos comerciantes sabemos ter muita amizade pelo negro que trabalha tão distante na cidade. Queremos paz prosperidade, chega de raiva e de maldade, de tudo um pouco nós compraremos e muitas armas venderemos. Pra que o negro não se sinta tão sozinho no sertão. E quem é amigo sempre se entende e bons preços conseguiremos, e o negro nos compreende e das armas tem precisão. (Boal and Guarnieri 45–46) [MERCHANTS. We the white merchants know how to be friends with the black man who works in the distant city. We want peace (and) prosperity, enough of hatred and maliciousness, we will buy a little of everything and sell many arms. So that the black man does not feel so alone in the backlands. And whoever is a friend always understands, and we will get good prices, and the black man will understand us and we need the weapons.]

The Merchants offer friendship and camaraderie for the Palmarinos who live nearby and whose goods they buy. In the beginning it seems that the Comerciantes have more in common with the local blacks than with the plantation owners on the coast. The attitude of the latter group towards the Palmarinos, however, is very different: DONOS DAS SESMARIAS. Nós os brancos senhores da terra fiéis vassalos de Portugal aqui chegamos, lutamos, vencemos e desbravamos esse país. O que aqui existe só a nós pertence, aqui trabalhamos, nosso sangue correu O negro trouxemos, o negro compramos pagamos bom preço ao barão espanhol. A paz que se pede com o negro rebelde é paz enganosa, é pura traição. Paz é quietude que trará sofrimento. É perda de ouro, da honra e de tempo. Negro que foge é negro perdido, dinheiro empatado e não devolvido. Negro que foge é negro rebelde é o grito de guerra de um mero cativo. A paz e a vitória, do subversivo. Viva a guerra! (Boal and Guarnieri 46–47) [LANDLORDS. We the white landowners are loyal servants of Portugal who arrived here, fought, won and pacified this country. Whatever exists here belongs to us, we work, our blood ran, we brought the black man, we


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bought him, paying a good money to the Spanish Baron. The peace that the black rebel asks for is a treacherous peace; it’s pure treason. Peace is calm that brings suffering. It is the loss of gold, of honor and of time. The black who runs away is a lost black, money taken and not given back. The black man who flees is a rebel black, the war cry of a mere captive. Peace and victory over the subversive. Long live war!]

The Landlords want to destroy Palmares, despite its productivity. The mere fact that runaway slaves—their former slaves—have created a successful community is reason enough to do away with it. Since they have lost money on the runaway slaves and continue to lose more, the Landed Lords want Palmares destroyed as soon as possible. The divergent attitudes of the Merchants living near Palmares and the Landlords in Arena conta Zumbi can be interpreted in a number of ways. First, they reflect how the government elite viewed organized labor. As a productive egalitarian society, Palmares posed a threat to the plantation owners, who feared that their slaves would run off to live there, causing them an economic loss. The rebellious slave, like the communist or union activist, is considered a “subversive” and should be put down. During the military dictatorship unions and other opposition groups were severely restricted and not allowed to strike for better working conditions.15 The playwrights wanted to show their concern for the workers and make the audience aware of their plight. Secondly, the Donos das Sesmarias did not relish the “capitalistic” economic competition generated by Palmares’ produce and preferred to hold on to their monopoly in the region. This can be perceived as opposition to land reform in Brazil. A small minority which is not interested in sharing its resources holds a vast majority of land in Brazil, especially in the Northeast. The Palmarinos, like modern-day squatters, took over land without permission and made it profitable. In this way the land owners lose both land and the revenue they would have made in selling produce to the poor.16 Thirdly, the situation can be viewed as that of the rift between the wealthy coastal region and the poorer interior. Since the early days of colonization, and in particular during the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, the coastal region of Brazil received more attention—and subsequently held more political clout—than the sertão, or interior region. This was due to the wealth of the sugar cane plantations on the coast. The disparity in economic and political status became more pronounced during times of drought, when thousands

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of retirantes, or poor migrants, fled to the coastal cities. In Arena conta Zumbi, the playwrights draw attention to the interior region with the hope that it will receive the resources it, too, needs for development and growth. In A revolta da casa dos ídolos Pepetela focuses on the class warfare which results when the slave trade arrives in the Congo and alludes to similar social divisions in the twentieth century. In Act I the audience is informed that society is changing due to the presence of the Europeans. The Artesão describes how the manis, a priestly class who have a high place in the political system and are supported by taxes, make a substantial profit from the sale of slaves. Though they are the nation’s spiritual leaders, ever since the advent of the slave trade the manis no longer perform their religious duties. ARTESÃO. Antes era simples. Os chefes da aldeia exigiam um pouco do produto de cada camponês. Era o imposto. Juntavam tudo e levavam ao mani da província. O mani ficava com uma parte para ele e o resto trazia ao rei. Hoje, além do tributo o qual é cada vez mais pesado, para satisfazer os apetites dos manis e do rei, os manis e o rei mandam fazer guerras para apanhar escravos e vendem-nos aos portugueses. (Pepetela 44) [ARTISAN. Before, everything was simple. The chiefs of our village insisted in a little of the product of every peasant. It was a tax. The put it together and took it to the priest of the province. The priest kept a part and brought the rest to the king. Today, besides the tribute which is growing heavier and heavier, to satisfy the appetites of the priests and the king, the priests and the king order wars to capture slaves and sell them to the Portuguese.]

In earlier days, the people paid the manis, who in turn paid the King. Now, the King and the manis are more greedy, and want more than the people are able to supply them. This in turn causes the people to lose faith in both their King and their own priests, who represent their traditional beliefs. Intergenerational conflict is explored in this drama as well as the younger generation becomes concerned about the deterioration of traditional values. Masala, a captured slave from the mani class, and Nanga view the collection of amulets as part of a larger scheme. Masala feels that the King is aligned with the priests: MASALA. As pessoas começam a murmurar. Não estão contentes com o Rei, por causa da venda de escravos. Não estão contentes, porque os padres é que mandam. E agora o Rei deixa que os padres andem por aí a apanhar


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todos os amuletos e a perseguir os adivinhos e curandeiros. Dizem que o Rei mandou guardar todos os amuletos numa casa...(Pepetela 39) [MASALA. The people are beginning to murmer. They are not content with the King, because of the sale of slaves. They are not happy because the priests are the ones who give orders. And now the king lets the priests walk around here collecting all the amulets and persecute the holy men and cure people. The say that the king ordered all the amulets gathered in one house.]

Masala is disturbed by the collection of amulets for spiritual reasons and clearly sees the cooperation between the King and the Priest. Nanga, however, views the plot for what it is and doesn’t believe that the amulets in and of themselves give the people strength; this they must find in unity. Nanga. Our force is to be together and to want the same thing. And what we want is to put an end to this king who has sold out to the foreigners. The priest convinced him to burn the house and he accepted it, because he accepts everything that the father says. Do you doubt that it happened this way? The priest only says that which interests the Portuguese merchants. That’s the problem. Slavery! Now there is the problem. The slaves and the ivory. And everything that the Portuguese want. At our cost. And the king allows it, because it is also in his interest. In the middle is the stinking priest with his nonsense angels and archangels to fool us.

Nanga knows that slavery is the real problem and that profits derived from it only stimulate the trade even more. Since the King is deeply involved with it, the people must do away with him as well as the Portuguese. Nanga encourages them to stick together and fight immediately before the other side can get even more powerful. This attempt by Nanga to stir up revolt is a secondary conspiracy in what Herbert Lindenberger calls a “conspiracy drama.” According to Lindenberger, “one conspiracy awakens reciprocal action from those who feel themselves conspired against. Thus, conspiracy plays often show two conspiracies working against one another” (32). Nanga’s plot attempts to counterbalance the Padre’s but falls short. Upon its failure, Nanga is executed and dies a martyr to an ill-fated cause—that of the liberation of the Kongo from both the greedy Portuguese and upper-class Africans. By clarifying the link between profitmaking and slavery, Pepetela is condemning the role of capitalism in Angolan society. With the civil war in mind, the playwright critiques those who wish to hoard

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the vast mineral wealth of Angola without sharing the proceeds. Like Nanga, Pepetela is making a plea that the Angolan people should unite and resist the urge to make personal gains at the expense of building a united, independent nation. Abrantes also discusses class division in Ana, Zé e os escravos. One of the historical figures, José do Telhado, is presented as a “Robin Hood” type bandit who robs the rich to give to the poor. In momento 4, situação 11, Zé do Telhado awakens in a prison cell in Angola. He describes to a fellow prisoner what led him to a life of crime. He explains how he fought during the Maria da Fonte Revolution against the dictatorship of Costa Cabral and was persecuted because of it.17 Due to poverty and suppression, he organized a band of men to rob the rich. ZÉ DO TELHADO. Eu não quero ser rico. Os pobres terão sempre uma quinta parte do produto dos nossos roubos. (Abrantes 38) [ZÉ DO TELHADO. I don’t want to be rich. The poor people will always have a fifth of the profits from what we rob.]

Like Robin Hood, Zé do Telhado gives to the poor after taking from the rich. In portraying Zé do Telhado’s life the playwright uses varied techniques, including the citation of songs and sections from dramas written about the character. One selection comes from Helder Costa’s play, Zé do Telhado. The first four lines of the poem read as follows: Pelos nobres era odiado A eles sempre fez mal E viva o Zé do Telhado Um bandido social. (Abrantes 48) [He was hated by t the nobles He always did them wrong And long live Zé do Telhado A social bandit.]

The upper classes were fearful of José do Telhado because he robbed them of their wealth. The label “social bandit” implies the existence of a social hierarchy in which José did not stay in his place. He is ultimately captured by the authorities and sent to Angola in exile; there he helps with the colonization of the interior regions. When he learns that he is only being used by the colonial authorities and will


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soon be sent back to prison, José do Telhado escapes and integrates himself into African society far from the coast. In telling the story of José do Telhado, Mena Abrantes intimates how the dire conditions of the poor in Portugal and the slight regard that the elite classes had for them led to increased colonization in Angola.18 The depiction of José do Telhado also leads the audience to think about post-colonial Africa. As a Portuguese man in Angola he is a colonist, yet the circumstances of his arrival in Africa and his turning against the Portuguese make him a positive addition to an independent, multiracial Angola. The contrasting portrayal of the other main character in Ana, Zé e os escravos, D. Ana Joaquina, is one of a cruel businesswoman who is interested exclusively in making money. D. Ana is heavily invested in the slave trade and, even after the official abolition of slavery is declared, does not stop her business. In momento 2, situação 7, D. Ana shows the Padre Capitão do Navio Negreiro the underground tunnels where slaves are led to awaiting ships. The year is 1842—six years after the abolition of the slave trade. She declares: D. ANA. Passaram-se já seis anos desde a abolição do tráfico e nunca deu tanto lucro embarcar estas”cabeças de alcatrão” para o Brasil. Com receio que a fonte se esgote, até os mais tímidos se meteram no negócio. Não há como uma boa proibição para espevitar a iniciativa criadora dos comerciantes. (Abrantes 26) [D. ANA. Six years have already passed since the abolition of the slave trade and there has never been more money made from the shipping of these “woolen heads” to Brazil. Fearing that the source will dry up, even the most timid are getting involved in the business. There’s nothing like a good prohibition to liven up the creative instincts of businessmen].

D. Ana correctly asserts that when there is a demand for a product, human or otherwise, someone will always come up with the supply. Following this scene D. Ana, the Governador and the Padre discuss D. Ana’s new business—making alcohol. The Governador informs her that he has told others how D. Ana has stopped her slave trading and begun working in agriculture: GOVERNADOR. Ainda esta manhã, na notificação que fiz para a Corte, voltei a elogiar a prontidão com que a senhora D. Ana cessou o tráfico da mão-de-obra indígena para se dedicar à valorização dos frutos da terra...É realmente um exemplo! (Abrantes 28)

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[GOVERNOR. This very morning, in the notification that I made to the court, I once again praised the promptness with which D. Ana ended the traffic in indigenous labour to dedicate herself to the valorization of the fruits of the earth...She is really an example!]

The Governador praises D. Ana’s compliance with the law. The performance is repeated several times to depict how time passes and how many Governadores are fooled. The stage directions read: “Toda esta cena se repete mais duas vezes, com ligeiras variantes, que insinuem que houve mudança do Governador” (Abrantes 28). [This entire scene is repeated two more times with slight changes that insinuate that there was a change in the governor.] The performance of the same scene over and over reinforces the number of people who are taken in by D. Ana. The reluctance of slave traders to give up their trade can be seen as an analogy to the warring factions in Angola vis-à-vis the end of the civil war. At various points during the war there were calls for a cease-fire, but neither side ended the hostilities until 1988, when U.S.-sponsored negotiations led to a South African withdrawal from Namibia in exchange for the removal of Cuban troops in Angola. Many groups profited from the war and continue to do so. MPLA and UNITA signed a peace treaty on May 31, 1991, and participated in elections the following year (Van Der Waals xv). UNITA claimed election fraud and returned to war. After the breaking of a 1994 cease-fire, hostilities in Angola continued openly until Jonas Savimbi, the leader of UNITA, was killed by government forces in 2002. UTOPIA

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n all three dramas, the playwrights provide a solution for their politically and economically torn nations in the form of a utopia. A utopia is “a place, state, or condition ideally perfect in respect of politics, laws, customs and conditions” (“utopia” 485). Since a utopia necessarily implies an “ideally perfect” place, it does not exist in reality. Yet the hope for a better situation or future is one that the playwrights wish to impart to the audience. In Arena conta Zumbi, Palmares is pictured as a workers’ utopia—a classless society where freed slaves relish their freedom and work hard.19 This is a vision for a modern day Brazil in which—after the equal distribution of wealth and land—people could live side by side in freedom and peace. Palmares is featured as productive because


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the former slaves are happy to work for themselves instead of for a slaveowner. This is reinforced with the use of music and song. Trabalha, trabalha irmão. Trabalha, trabalha, de coração. Palmares tá grande, Palmares cresceu, com a força do braço do negro que sabe o que é seu (Boal and Guarnieri 40) [Work, work, brother Work, work from your heart Palmares is big, Palmares grew With the force of the arm of the black man who knows what is his.]

Through music such as this the playwrights create a joyous atmosphere for Palmares, much like that of a utopia. The audience associates those who sing about their work with those who love life, further reinforcing the utopian notion. Palmares, like all utopias, cannot last, and in the end the Donos das Sesmarias and others team up to destroy it. Nevertheless, the hope brought about by its very existence and lasting power—over a century—is an example for those who struggle against oppression in the present day. When Zambi hands the kingdom of Palmares over to his grandson Ganga Zumba at the end of Act II, he recites lines that are a loose translation of Bertolt Brecht’s poem, “To Those Born Later”: Eu vivi nas cidades no tempo das desordem. Eu vivi no meio da minha gente no tempo da revolta...Assim passei os tempo que me deram pra viver. A voz da minha gente se levantou e minha voz junto com a dela. Minha voz não pode muito mas gritá eu bem gritei. Tenho certeza que os dono dessas terra e sesmaria ficaria mais contente se não ouvisse a minha voz...(Boal and Guarnieri 75–76) [I lived in the cities at a time of confusion. I lived in the midst of my people at a time of revolt...and this was how I spent the time they gave me to live. The voice of my people rose and my voice along with its. My voice couldn’t do much, but I shouted, all right. I am certain that the owner of these lands would be happier if the never heard my voice.]

In this statement, Zambi describes how he lived in a time of turmoil and raised his voice along with his people. He knows that his actions did not please the rich landowners and the former slaveowners but that did not stop him. Regardless of the outcome, it is worthwhile and

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necessary to stand up to oppression. Bertolt Brecht also maintained this perspective and in the original poem he writes: I came to the towns in times of great confusion When they were ruled by hunger. I came to live with people in a time of uproar And I began rebelling with them... You, though, when things are moving forward So that man becomes a helper to other men Look back on us With indulgence. (Brecht 138)

In “To Those Born Later”, Brecht describes how he rebelled with the people during times of famine. He also looks forward to the time when a future society will learn from the past and be more civil.20 The inclusion of this poem in Arena conta Zumbi shows how important the German writer’s influence was both on the play and the Brazilian Arena theater group in general. It also expresses how the playwrights viewed themselves—as part of the opposition movement. Lines like “I began rebelling with them” and “Look back on us/With indulgence” clearly underline how Arena wanted to be remembered for its stance against the dictatorship. The end of the play illustrates that fighting oppression is not in vain. According to Robert Anderson, “Significantly, Zumbi is not killed in the final battle of the play. His final self-sacrifice is implied in the hopeless battle at the end. Zumbi never dies, just like the legend that he spawned” (21). Zumbi transcends Death and is raised to divine status. His apotheosis and legacy continued as a lesson and inspiration for subsequent generations of slaves until abolition in 1888. For Brazil, the political repression at the hands of the military would exist until 1985, when democracy was restored. In the case of economic oppression, though, the disparity between rich and poor continues to grow. In A revolta da casa dos ídolos, the rebellion against the Portuguese and the King is put down. Nanga is killed, dying as a martyr to the short-lived cause. There is some hope for the future, however, when a character named Kuntuala comes on the stage. He tells the audience: KUNTUALA. Chamam-me Kuntuala, o Futuro. Nanga foi morto, os seus derrotados. Resto eu, o futuro. Nada vejo senão sombras. Por todo o lado,


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as sombras do luto, da escravidão, da dor. Os homens afastados de si próprios e do seu passado, as mulheres arrastadas em óbitos contínuos. Os filhos dos meus filhos e os netos deles viverão no reino das sombras, da ignorância, da escravidão mais brutal. Sei-o...No fundo, lá muito no fundo, vejo uma luz. Uma luzinha débil, tão tímida, como se fosse das últimas estrelas que se escondem por trás da Lua. É a única luz que se avista neste universo de sombras. Será a luz de Nanga, aquela que ele perseguia? Sim, é ela. Existe, afinal. Mas está tão afastada, que nem os netos dos meus netos a poderão alcançar. Não importa! É Nanga! Alguém um dia a alcançará. Alguém rasgará as sombras que se adensaram sobre esta terra e as atirará num feixe para o passado. Sim, a luz de Nanga brilhará como um Sol por esta terra toda. Sinto. Sei. Muito longe, dentro de mim, mas dentro de mim. Kuntuala, o futuro. (Pepetela 156–157) [KUNTUALA. The calll me Kuntuala, the Future. Nanga was killed, his followers defeated. What remains is me, the future. I see nothing but shadows. On every side, the shadows of grief,, of slavery, of pain.Men kept from themselves and from their past, women plodding along in perpetual death. The sons of my sons, and their grandsons, will live in the realm of shadows, of ignorance, of the most brutal slavery. I know it...Far off, very far off, I see a light. A weak little light, so timid, like one of the last stars hiding behind the moon. It’s only light that can be seen in this universe of shadows. Might it be the light of Nanga, the one he sought? Yes, it is. It exists, then. But it’s so far away that not even the grandsons will reach it. No matter! It’s Nanga! One day it will be reached. Someone will tear a hole in the shadows that gathered over this earth and throw them in one great heap into the past. Yes, Nanga’s light will shine like a sun over the whole earth. If feel it. I know it. Far, far off, inside me, but inside me. Kuntuala, the future].

Kuntuala speaks of the painful consequences of slavery. Generations of Africans will be divided and lost. Yet the light or utopia lies ahead in the distance. Through understanding their past, the Angolan people can achieve a bright future. The inclusion of Kuntuala reflects a method used in many African historical dramas to link the past with the present. Kerr explains, “A similar technique for achieving relevance is by allowing historical characters to have a prophetic vision of the future (made accurate of course by the hindsight of the author)” (Kerr 117). In Pepetela’s drama, the attainment of a utopia has not yet been achieved, but the hope for a society in which there are no class divisions nor exploitation remains a goal to which the playwright hopes the audience will aspire. Abrante’s drama also offers some hope that the lessons of the past will not be for naught and that a new future will come. This hope is found in the poem “Adeus à hora da largada” (“Goodbye to the Hour

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of Release”) by Agostinho Neto, the first Angolan president, at the end of momento 5: Minha Mãe (todas as Mães cujos filhos partiram) tu me ensinaste a esperar como esperaste nas horas difíceis... nós mesmos nós vamos em busca de luz os teus filhos Mãe (todas as mães cujos filhos partiram) vamos em busca da Vida! (Abrantes 72) [My mother (All the Mothers whose sons are gone) you taught me to wait as you did, in difficult hours... we go in search of light your sons, mother (all the mothers whose sons left) we go in search of Life!]

In this poem there is an image of separation from one’s mother (“todas as Mães cujos filhos partiram...”). This can be interpreted as the result of slavery as children were taken from their mothers. It also reflects the “poetry of parting” described by Mary Lou Daniel in “A Woman for All Seasons: Mãe in Modern Lusophone African Poetry”. According to Daniel, the imagery of departure in this and other poems written during the Colonial Wars (1961–1974) applied to the young intellectuals who left their homes and families in Africa due to exile, imprisonment, or study in Europe (Daniel 91). Though there are difficult times and trials to overcome, there is a search for light or hope (“nós vamos em busca de luz”). We go in search of light as in A revolta da casa dos ídolos, the light is a hope for a new life free from the pain of slavery and war. The inclusion of a poem by the first Angolan president is not merely another example of collage in this play, but rather an illustration of intergenerational respect and tradition of the orality of Lusophone African literature. In the place of a speaker, the poem voices a perspective that is integral to the play-


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wright’s message. The fact that the poet is the first president of Angola is also significant, for it represents the close ties between the intelligentsia and the power structure in newly independent Angola. CONCLUSION

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he three historical dramas examined in this chapter provide an insight into how Lusophone playwrights viewed the legacy of slavery in their countries and how it could be interpreted in light of contemporary issues such as dictatorship and civil war. Though the actual experience of slavery as well as the conditions in which the dramas were written differ greatly, there are several points in common amongst all three, namely the portrayal of the Church, capitalism and the utopic vision. All four playwrights provide a negative depiction of the Church and give examples of how the clergy acted hypocritically in relation to slavery. For the Brazilians, the attack on the Church is related to how the authors viewed the twentieth-century Church’s support of the military dictatorship. The Angolans, on the other hand, are not as contemptuous towards the modern-day Church in Angola as they are towards the interference of outside entities in general in the affairs of their country. For Augusto Boal and Gianfrancesco Guarnieri, there are numerous similarities between the condition of slavery and life under dictatorship. The economic bondage experienced by the slave was similar to that of the Brazilian worker. Freedom is found through socialism and the creation of a communal state in which all share in the labor and profits. Though the playwrights tout the creation of a workers’ utopia, they are well aware that it is virtually impossible, given the strength of their modern-day opponents in the military. They do hope, nevertheless, that the exposure to Leftist ideals as portrayed in their rendition of Palmares will cause the audience to challenge the dictatorship.21 In the Angolan dramas, the playwrights offer a harsh critique of capitalism and colonialism. Pepetela depicts how the making of profits divided the Kongo nation five hundred years ago and how it continues to split Angola in the twentieth century. Abrantes emphasizes how long change can take and uses the example of abolition in Angola. Though the slave trade ended in 1836, it did not officially conclude until the late nineteenth century. By showing this lengthy

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process, the playwright hopes to encourage the Angolan people to begin to heal the wounds of civil war as soon as possible. Ana, Zé e os escravos also addresses the question of colonialism and how slavery went hand in hand with the day-to-day life of nineteenth-century Angola. In momento 2 there is a scene which takes place in a courthouse. Upon hearing that the slave trade is abolished the white merchants are incensed: (...Ouve-se uma grande gritaria. Distinguem-se frases soltas, como “Abaixo a lei!”, “Isto é uma afronta!”, “Traição!”, “Esta lei é o fim da civilização!”, etc...) COMERCIANTE 1. Isto é uma traição do Governo a todos os que aqui trabalham, longe da Pátria e dos seus. Um insulto, uma afronta aos nossos sacrifícios. COMERCIANTE 2. O que será de nós neste ambiente hostil? Quem nos vai trazer a cera, a borracha e o marfim do interior? Quem carregará as nossas machilas? Quem despejará a merda das nossas casas nas marinhas? Quem? MAGISTRADO. (acalmando-os) Calma! Eu compreendo-vos! Demonstradamente, na área tropical, o branco não possui resistência física para a execução de tarefas manuais duras. Tem forçosamente de ultilizar o nativo para levar a efeito o progresso do território. Eu dou-vos, razão, senhores. Isto é o fim da civilização em África. (Abrantes 20) [(There is a lot of shouting. A few solitary phrases can be distinguished, such as “Down with the law! “This is an affront!”, “Treason!”, “ This law is the end of civilization”!, etc...) MERCHANT ONE. This is the government’s betrayal to all that would work here, far from their country and their people. An insult, an affront to our sacrifices. MERCHANT TWO. What will become of us in this hostile atmosphere? Who will bring us the wax, the rubber and the ivory from the inland? Who will carry our packs? Who will take out the shit from our seaside houses? Who? MAGISTRATE. (Calming them) Calm down! I understand you! It has been proven that in a tropical area, the white man does not have the physical resistance for hard manual labor. He is forced to use the native to bring about progress in the territory. I agree with you, sirs. This is the end of civilization in Africa.]

In this scene, the white merchants discuss their fears about living in the colony without slaves to do the hard work, including cleaning their waste products. The whites both depend on African labor and exploit the Africans by selling them into slavery. Even the Magistrado agrees that abolition will constitute the “end of civilization” in the


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region, because it is his belief that the white man is not suited to hard labor in tropical climates.22 Some of the most noticeable differences among the three dramas lie in their performance. Arena conta Zumbi is a musical, which features music composed by Edu Lobo. The use of music is a device which involves the audience in the action taking place onstage. In the Brazilian drama, there is also a multiple narrator or Cantador who makes the spectators focus closely on the presentation. An example of this character is in Act I: Entra um cantador—o papel do cantador é desempenhado indiferentemente por todos os atores CANTADOR. Feche os olhos e imagine viver em mil e seiscentos em plena terra africana vendo os maiores portentos... (Boal and Guarnieri 16–17) [(A singer enters—the role of the singer is performed indifferently by all the actors.) Singer. Close your eyes and imagine living in 1600 in the middle of Africa, seeing all the portents...?]

Unlike A revolta da casa dos ídolos in which there are two distinct narrators describing the historical setting, in this drama there are many actors playing the same role. This in turn provides a level of “‘collective’ interpretation.” (Boal, Theatre of the Oppressed 170). One must not only concentrate on who is speaking or acting but on exactly what is being said, without attachment to a particular actor. The Brechtian technique of using film projection is found in Arena conta Zumbi when the actors present slides of the torture instruments used to make slaves obey their masters. As in the Portuguese drama O Judeu, this scene reinforces the violence perpetrated on the characters as well as the audience which views it. Ana, Zé e os escravos utilizes a variety of performative techniques including music, collage, and lighting. In situação 9 of momento 2 there is a ball in which D. Ana, the Governador, an officer, his pregnant wife, a Velha, a dancer and the Assimilated Poet are present. While three conversations are going on simultaneously, the actors dance a ‘minuet’, changed in certain moments by the introduction of an African rhythm. (Abrantes 29). The alternation between a European dance and African music only reinforces the mixture of cultures and races in Angola. In another scene between the momentos about D. Ana and José do Telhado, an attempted mutiny takes place

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aboard a slave ship. The playwright is very adept at recreating this scene for the stage with sheets, screens and lights. (Ainda no escuro ouvem-se gemidos e gritos abafados. O ‘navio negreiro’— a tábua atravessada sobre duas estruturas—chegou entretanto ao centro do espaço cénico, em primeiro plano. Deve estar iluminado com um foco baixo, de forma a projectar enormes sombras no fundo do cenário. Duas das telas das estruturas deverão servir de velas, ao mesmo tempo que as outras duas serão agitadas como se fossem ondas...) (Abrantes 33) [(Muffled moans and cries are heard in the dark. The slave ship—the board crossed by two statues has now arrived at the center of the spacial scene, in the foreground. It should be lit with a low focus, so as to project enormous shadows on the background of the scene. Two of the screens of the structures should serve as sails, while the other two should be moved like waves.)]

Using sound, light and other stage props Abrantes re-creates a storm at sea and a failed attempt at freedom. This scene is mesmerizing and dynamically focuses the audience’s attention on the terrifying conditions experienced by the African slaves. Finally, Abrantes weaves oral history into the written text, thus giving voice and authority to the traditional African version of its continental past. Though the history of slavery in Brazil and Angola is long and bloody, it can be used to understand and map the future of these two countries. By means of a thoughtful understanding of the legacy of the past, oppression can be dealt with in creative and successful ways. Each drama thus offers hope that a new future free of pain and suffering can be achieved through hard work and unity.

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CHAPTER FOUR

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Colonialism and Treachery in Felizmente há luar! and Calabar: O elogio da traição

COLONIALISM AND LUSOPHONE HISTORICAL DRAMA

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usophone playwrights of the 1960s and 1970s critiqued the political repression of their day by re-examining episodes of treason during periods of colonial rule. Two such historic instances are rewritten with the contemporary era in mind: Felizmente há luar! (1961) (Luckily There’s Moonlight), by Luís de Sttau Monteiro, recasts the conspiracy of 1817 in which popular General Gomes Freire was executed by the Conselho do Reino; Calabar: O elogio da traição (1973) (Calabar: In Praise of Treason), by Chico Buarque de Hollanda and Ruy Guerra, depicts the attempts by the Portuguese to capture Domingos Fernandes Calabar for treason in seventeenth-century Pernambuco. In spirit and staging, the two plays are nearly polar opposites: Felizmente há luar! is stark and lugubrious, while Calabar: O elogio da traição rocks with bawdy humor and scatological scenes. Yet both dramas draw a parallel between colonialism in the seventeenth and nineteenth centuries and repressive regimes of twentieth century Portugal and Brazil by employing a conspiracy format as well as many Brechtian techniques. The historical dramas about Gomes Freire and Calabar reflect a deep interest on the part of Portuguese and Brazilian playwrights in two specific and complex periods of history: the Dutch occupation

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of Pernambuco in the seventeenth century and the British regency in Portugal during the nineteenth. According to Elleke Boehmer, Colonialism involves the consolidation of imperial power, and is manifested in the settlement of territory, the exploitation or development of resources, and the attempt to govern the indigenous inhabitants of occupied lands. (Boehmer 2)

Following this definition, Brazil is a classic example of colonialism whereby the native inhabitants and resources of Pernambuco were exploited, first by Portugal and later by Holland. The area of Pernambuco was initially under Portuguese control (beginning in 1549, when the first Capitão Geral was appointed).1 The Dutch arrived in the early 17th century and fought with the Portuguese over the area’s profitable sugar trade. With the help of a Brazilian-born landowner named Domingos Fernandes Calabar (c. 1600–1635), the Dutch were able to capture Pernambuco and remain there for nearly three decades. During the time in which the Dutch governed the colony (1630–1654), Pernambuco benefited from the economic efficiency of the Dutch East India Company and a relatively tolerant governor, Count Johan Maurits of Nassau-Siegen (1604–1679). Due to the lack of Dutch settlers and mounting Portuguese resistance, however, the Dutch ultimately lost control of their Brazilian colony and were driven out. The second situation—that of Felizmente há luar!—is more complex in that the sovereign rulers of Portugal voluntarily allowed a foreign government to intervene in the affairs of their nation while they themselves resided abroad. Fearing the imminent invasion of Napoleon’s troops, the Portuguese court fled in 1808 to Brazil, where they set up residence in Petrópolis, outside Rio de Janeiro. In their place a regency was established under the British general William Beresford, who was in charge of the country’s defense forces. As a ruler Beresford tried to contain opposition from groups influenced by the progressive ideas spreading through Europe. His tenure was punctuated by turmoil and in 1817, in order to quell revolt, General Gomes Freire (1757–1817) was captured and executed. Beresford was ultimately driven out in 1821 as King João VI returned from Brazil. Because of Beresford’s active role in ruling the country and the Portuguese monarchy’s presence in Brazil, Portugal was “both an English protectorate and a Brazilian colony” (Marques 429).

Felizmente há Luar and Calabar: O elogio da traição

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During periods of colonialism such as these, the question of national allegiance becomes complicated. Such allegiance implies support of one’s perceived country, especially against outside threats. Yet a colony is not a sovereign nation, but rather an extension of an imperial power. The question then is whether those who reside in a colony—especially those born there—are obligated to support the first imperial power to colonize the region even if a second power, such as the Dutch in the case of Pernambuco, may offer greater socioeconomic and political benefits. In the involved case of Portugal, if the King has voluntarily allowed a foreign power to occupy and govern his country, are those who rebel against that power considered traitors or patriots? Because treason typically implies the “violation of allegiance toward one’s own country by waging war against it or by consciously and purposely acting to aid its enemies,” switching sides in a colonial situation can thus be regarded as both treasonous and patriotic (“Treason” 1367). THE ESTADO NOVO AND THE BRAZILIAN MILITARY REGIME

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n both historical dramas studied in this chapter, playwrights Luís de Sttau Monteiro, Chico Buarque de Hollanda, and Ruy Guerra use the question of allegiance to a colonial regime as a way to discuss support of the Portuguese Estado Novo and the Brazilian military government. They do so thematically by first drawing a parallel between the earlier sociopolitical conditions of colonialism in their respective countries and the contemporary situations of political repression. Next, they depict how some in the past reacted to those conditions. A wide array of characters offers diverse approaches to living under difficult conditions. For many, looking out for one’s own interests supersedes strict allegiance to the state, especially when there is a question as to who is governing the country. Others, on the other hand, hold lofty ideals that go beyond self-interest. These characters end up as martyrs for their principles. By offering the audience different possibilities to consider with respect to their current situation, all three playwrights draw from Brechtian theater in their presentation of history; the dramatization of Felizmente há luar! and Calabar: O elogio da traição employs techniques such as music, irony, gestus, and the inclusion of marginalized characters. Chico Buarque de Hollanda’s and Ruy Guerra’s

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musical combines ironic lyrics that critique the military regime with styles of music familiar to the Brazilian audience, such as the Portuguese fado and the Brazilian samba. The gestures of characters in the two historical dramas studied in this chapter are laden with meaning concerning sociopolitical status and attitudes. Typically Brechtian characters such as prostitutes and the “anti-hero” are also detected, especially in Calabar: O elogio da traição. Felizmente há luar! (1961), Sttau Monteiro’s first drama, won an award from the Sociedade Portuguesa de Escritores but was censored until 1978.2 The Drama has elaborate stage directions and statements of intentionality both in the text and in the margin, suggesting that it was intended to be read as well as performed. Given the political situation of the day and the power of the censorship bureau, it is possible that Sttau Monteiro knew that the drama would not be performed under the conditions of dictatorship and instead would be read as a text. The notes in the margin contain many specific instructions regarding gestures, reflecting an attempt by Sttau Monteiro to use Brechtian techniques: A pergunta é acompanhada dum gesto que revela a impotência da personagem perante o problema em causa. Este gesto é francamente “representado” (11). [The question is accompanied by a gesture which reveals the character’s powerlessness faced with the problem at hand. This gesture is deliberately “represented.”]

In this example the gesture of the character asking a question should reveal his incapacity to solve the social problem at hand. Felizmente há luar! is composed of two acts and set in 1817 Lisbon. The first act begins with Manuel, a character who serves as narrator, questioning what is happening in society. He describes the intervening forces that have occupied Portugal—the British, French and Spanish. Next, people gather to discuss their difficult situation before police break up the group. The following scene has Vicente, a poor soldier, describing how he intends to turn against his own people by participating in a conspiracy against General Gomes Freire. He is brought before the Conselho do Reino, composed of General Beresford, Principal Sousa and D. Miguel Forjaz, who want to find a scapegoat to accuse of instigating unrest. With the help of Vicente and Corvo, a captain in the army, a conspiracy develops to find such a per-


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son, and General Gomes Freire is chosen for both his military and estrangeirado background. Act II begins with Manuel once again addressing the audience, asking what can be done to ameliorate the situation in his country. Manuel then plays the part of two men—one rich and one poor—changing his gestures and tone of voice. At the end of this scene he announces that Gomes Freire has been captured (though the victim never appears onstage throughout the play). The next few scenes depict Gomes Freire’s female companion, Matilde, attempting to save him by speaking with the authorities. Though she manages to address Beresford and Principal Sousa, D. Miguel Forjaz refuses to see her. Matilde’s effort to save Gomes Freire’s life fails and in the final scene she and a loyal friend discuss the significance of Gomes Freire’s ideals as he is burned alive (offstage) in the distance. Calabar: O elogio da traição is a musical composed of two acts. Act I begins with a Mass celebrated in Pernambuco by a Priest, who then describes the political situation in the colony. In the following scene Mathias de Albuquerque, the Portuguese governor, writes to Domingos Calabar in an attempt to persuade him to fight against the Dutch. When Albuquerque is unsuccessful, he plans to capture the renegade as well as the land conquered by the Dutch. At the end of Act I, Calabar is captured with the help of Souto, Dias, and Camarão and executed offstage. In Act II Maurício de Nassau, the Dutch governor of Pernambuco (played by the same actor as Mathias de Albuquerque) discusses his plans for colonizing the territory. His designs include developing the region both culturally and economically. Nassau brings with him a cadre of artists and scientists for this purpose. Through the next several scenes, Nassau meets with the colonists in an attempt to make the region successful, but cannot maintain it due to the continuing war with the Portuguese and lack of funding from the Dutch West India Company. In a subsequent scene, there is a discussion between Bárbara, Calabar’s lover, and Souto, one of the henchmen who turned Calabar in. Though Bárbara repudiates Sousa, she has an affair with him. In the final scene, Nassau departs from Pernambuco and the whole cast sings the song “O elogio da traição” (“In Praise of Treason”). Felizmente há luar! and Calabar: O elogio da traição depict the colonial period as oppressive both politically and economically. The first drama presents the three rulers who governed Portugal as more concerned with staying in power than in ameliorating the conditions

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of their people. In depicting these figures and their motives, Monteiro employs irony and sarcasm. The English general, Beresford, looks down upon the Portuguese country and has little respect for its people. This is dramatized when he gazes out the window and describes his own country’s landscape: Através da janela, Beresford contempla uma paisagem portuguesa e descreve as belezas naturais da sua terra. Esta situação é, em si mesma, um crítica a Portugal que ele, como se depreende, despreza. (Monteiro 57) [Behind the window, Beresford contemplates the Portuguese landscape and describes the natural beauty of his land. This situation is, in itself, a critique of Portugal, which, we are to infer, he hates.]

In this gestus, Beresford reveals his personal attitudes towards Portugal by not “seeing” the countryside around him. By talking about a distant place, Beresford is discounting the land and people of Portugal. He is detached from his present reality and thinks only of why he is there: to make money. This in turn constitutes a critique of capitalism, another element of Brechtian theater. The emphasis on the financial reasons for Beresford’s presence in Portugal are clearly spelled out by the Englishman himself when he states: BERESFORD. Pretendo uma única coisa de vós: que me pagueis—e bem! Tão bem que, ao voltar à minha terra, possa olhar para trás sem lamentar os anos que por cá perdi. Estou aqui pelos mesmos motivos que vos levam a viver durante anos nas florestas do Brasil e, por isso mesmo, sou o mais fiel e o mais dedicado dos vassalos deste reino. (Monteiro 58) [BERESFORD. I expect one thing from you: that you pay me—and well! So well that, when I return to my land, I can look behind and not regret the years I lost here. I am here for the same reason that you spend years in the jungles of Brazil, and for this, I am the most loyal and most dedicated of all this kingdom’s servents].

Beresford’s motives for being a regent are not at all altruistic. He does not wish to better the country but rather to fill his own pocketbook. In this sense he is a mercenary who has little regard neither for the country or the people whom he is protecting. He also compares his tenure in Portugal with the Portuguese presence in Brazil, thus reinforcing the colonial nature of the British regency in Portugal at the time.3 In addition to his “body language” and words, Beresford’s character is portrayed through the tone of his voice. Throughout the drama


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Beresford’s speech is laced with sarcasm. O tom do Marechal é sempre jocoso. Sente-se que não toma os portugueses a sério, embora esteja disposto a colaborar com eles na medida do necessário para a obtenção dos seus fins. (Monteiro 56) [The Marshall’s tone is always mocking. It is evident that he doesn’t take the Portuguese seriously, although he is willing to collaborate with them in order to achieve his goals].

Once again gestus is employed to inform the audience of the sociopolitical views of this character. Beresford’s tone of voice divulges how he looks down upon the Portuguese. In a performance for Portuguese spectators, Beresford’s patronizing tone would elicit feelings of antipathy towards the character and what he represents—foreign aid to a non-democratic regime. An audience of the time could find this analogous to the support of the Salazar regime by other countries such as the United States. An additional affront to Portuguese audiences is the treatment of cleric Principal Sousa at the hands of Beresford. In a stage direction, Sttau Monteiro states that Beresford especially dislikes Principal Sousa and never hesitates to provoke him: PRINCIPAL SOUSA. Trama-se contra el-rei, e V. Exa. brinca! BERESFORD. (Rindo-se) Não brinco, Reverência, não brinco...Dentre nós, só V. Reverência brinca...e com o fogo! PRINCIPAL SOUSA. Fala de tal forma que ninguém o entende. BERESFORD. Preferiria, certamente, que me exprimisse em latim? (Monteiro 55) PRINCIPAL SOUSA. There’s a plot against the King—against the King, and your Excellency jokes! BERESFORD. (Laughing) I am not joking, Reverend, this is not a game. Between us, only Your Reverency is playing...and with fire! PRINCIPAL SOUSA. You speak so that no one understands you. BERESFORD. Would you prefer, then, that I express myself in Latin?

By suggesting that they communicate in Latin Beresford, who is not Catholic, puts down the Church and its representatives. To Beresford, Latin is not a modern language and hence the Roman Catholic Church and its followers are primitive. This exchange would have a powerful effect on some in the audience who, though they may not support all the positions of the Church, would find the comment by a Protestant offensive. As the representative of the Church, Principal Sousa first appears

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on the stage in Act I “imponentemente vestido” (Monteiro 34). Imposingly dressed, Principal Sousa stands behind the monarchy and upholds the divine right of kings. He declares, É de origem divina o poder dos reis e é portanto a sua—e não a do povo—a voz de Deus” (Monteiro 34). [The kings’ power derives from divine right and thus the voice of God is yours and not the people’s.]

According to Principal Sousa, the people do not have the right to power because God did not give them it. With his views on the place of religion in society, Principal Sousa symbolizes the Catholic hierarchy that would later gain greatly increased influence during the Salazar regime. Indeed, according to Van Der Waals, there were “good relations between Church and State” while the dictator was in power (Van Der Waals 33). This was due to the fact that Salazar himself was very religious and felt that Portuguese society should be based upon Roman Catholic values.4 The third leader, D. Miguel Forjaz, represents the nobility and is depicted in Felizmente há luar! as aloof and out of touch with the common people. D. MIGUEL. (Passeando agitadamente à frente do palco) Sou um homem de gabinete. Não tenho as qualidades necessárias para falar ao povo...(Começa a apagar-se a luz que incide sobre Beresford e o Principal Sousa) Repugna-me a acção, estaria politicamente liquidado se tivesse de discutir as minhas ordens...Não sou, e nunca serei, popular. Quem o for, é meu inimigo pessoal. No estado em que se encontra o Reino, basta o aparecimento de alguém capaz de falar ao povo para inutilizar o trabalho de toda a minha vida...(Monteiro 72) [D. MIGUEL. (Pacing nervously in the front of the stage.) I am a ministering man. I don’t have the qualities necessary to speak to the people. . (the light begins to fade above Beresford and Principal Sousa) I am disgusted by direct action, I would be eliminated politically if I had to dispute my orders. I am not and never will be popular. Whoever is will be my personal enemy. In the state the kingdom is in, the mere appearance of someone capable of speaking to the people will destroy my entire life’s work].

In the nervous pacing across the stage, D. Miguel’s body language suggests that he is a vulnerable and paranoid man who does not have the ability to govern a country. This may be a veiled attack on António de Oliveira Salazar himself—a shy man who avoided the public eye. Indeed the twentieth century dictator ruled from a distance and


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refused to allow others to share power with him.5 Yet another similarity between D. Miguel and Salazar lies in their vision of Portugal. In Felizmente há luar! D. Miguel describes his ideal for the Portuguese people: D. MIGUEL. Sonho com um Portugal próspero e feliz, com um povo simples, bom e confiante, que viva lavrando e defendendo a terra, com os olhos postos no Senhor. Sonho com uma nobreza orgulhosa, que, das suas casas, dirija este terra privilegiada. Vejo um clero, uma nobreza e um povo, conscientes da sua missão, integrados na estrutura tradicional do reino. (Monteiro 71–72) [D. MIGUEL. I dream of a Portugal that is prosperous and content, with simple, good and confident people cultivating and defending the land, with their eyes fixed on the Lord. I dream of a proud nobility, that leads this privileged land from their homes. I see a clergy, a nobility and a people, conscious of their mission, integrated in the traditional structure of the kingdom].

D. Miguel’s ideal for the country was much like that of Salazar’s. The twentieth century dictator wished for a country with clearly defined classes and was worried about the possible abolishment of class differences through the spread of communism.6 D. Miguel continues elaborating about how each element of society should know its place. D. MIGUEL. Um mundo em que não se distinga, a olho nu, um prelado dum nobre, ou um nobre dum popular, não é mundo em que eu deseje viver. Não concebo a vida, Excelências, desde que o taberneiro da esquina possa discutir a opinião d’el-rei, nem me seria possível viver desde que a minha opinião valesse tanto como a de qualquer arruaceiro. (Monteiro 71–72) [D. MIGUEL. A world in which you can’t distinquish, through the naked eye, a priest from a nobleman, or a nobleman from a commoner, is not a world in which I want to live in. I cannot conceive of a life, your excelencies, where the tavern owner on the corner could debate the opinion of the king, nor would it be possible for me to live if my opinion were worth as much as any old hooligan].

A Portuguese audience watching the play would be able to see a parody of the Estado Novo’s policies when D. Miguel mockingly questions living in a society in which anyone, even a street person, could discuss his/her political views. Under the regime which lasted nearly four decades, illiterates and women who did not have a college education (or were not heads of households) were not allowed to vote (Marques, II 191). Marques infers that the Portuguese public was not encouraged to participate in politics when he mentions that “the size

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of the electorate...did not significantly increase in forty years” though the number of those eligible did (191). In addition to having restricted voting rights, the public was not allowed to discuss politics in the street since Salazar’s ideal was “a sanitized Portugal forswearing politics” (Gallagher 100). In Calabar: O elogio da traição, the oppression of colonial Pernambuco and its parallel in modern-day Brazil is depicted through the portrayal of Mathias de Albuquerque, the Portuguese governor of Pernambuco. Albuquerque initially appears in the drama casually shaving while a blond prisoner is being strangled in a corner of the stage. Mais adiante, o escrivão, pena de pato na mão. Noutro canto, dois soldados garroteiam um prisioneiro louro, que solta um grito lancinante. Soldados adormecidos, fuzis ensarilhados. Tudo sugere um acampamento militar. (Buarque de Hollanda and Guerra 2) [Near the front there is the writer, with a duck’s feather in his hand. In another corner, two soldiers garroteiam a blond prisoner, who lets out a shrill cry. There are sleeping soldiers with rifles. Everything suggests a military camp].

This scene reveals the insensitivity of the governor and the other soldiers towards violence. The blondness of the prisoner also suggests he is Dutch and that a war is taking place. By linking the torture scene with the line “tudo sugere um acampamento militar”, everything suggests a military camp Chico Buarque de Hollanda and Ruy Guerra are making a direct statement regarding the modern day Brazilian military’s use of torture (Buarque de Hollanda and Guerra 2). During the ditadura thousands were tortured and/or disappeared. Another way in which Calabar: O elogio da traição makes the connection between the two time periods is through music and song. As in Brechtian theater, the lyrics of the songs heard in this musical critique the sociopolitical and economic situation of the day through their gravity and irony. The juxtaposition of lighthearted music with heavy, cynical words aims to shock the audience and make them reconsider the performance taking place before them. As one of Brazil’s most popular composers and musicians, Chico Buarque de Hollanda was especially skilled in writing songs that were both appealing to the hearers and critical towards the government. In “Dissonance and Dissent: The Musical Dramatics of Chico Buarque,” Charles Perrone explains that


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Buarque’s songs are an important part of the critical and political discourse of the play (Calabar: O elogio da traição), which indirectly targets the Brazilian regime of the 1970s. (87)

Three such songs are “Fado tropical”, “Cala a boca, Bárbara”, and “Vence na vida quem diz sim” (“To Win in Life Say Yes”). The first is an excellent example of how a Brechtian technique is “Brazilianized.” A fado is a sentimental Portuguese ballad about love and saudades, or nostalgia. Yet “Fado tropical” as sung by Mathias de Albuquerque contains verses that provoke contemplation. One verse reads: O rio Amazonas/ Que corre trás-os-montes/ E, numa pororoca/ Deságua no Tejo (Buarque de Hollanda and Guerra 17) [The Amazon River/ that runs past the mountains/ And in a Pororoca/ Returns to the Tagus.]

By mixing the Brazilian Amazon and the Portuguese Tagus, the Portuguese governor both acknowledges and discounts Brazil. He sees the beauty of Brazilian flora and fauna yet yearns for his native Portugal. Albuquerque views Brazil as a tropical extension of Portugal from which natural resources can be extracted.7 He exclaims in one verse: “Ai, esta terra ainda vai cumprir seu ideal/ Ainda vai tornarse um imenso Portugal” (16). (Oh, this land will still fulfill its ideal, it will eventually become an enormous Portugal.) In the midst of singing “Fado tropical” Albuquerque tells the audience that he is truly sentimental “mesmo quando as minhas mãos estão ocupadas em torturar, esganar, trucidar” (16). (Even when my hands are busy torturing, strangling, slaughtering...) There is an ironic incongruity between the sentimentality of the fado and the cruelty of Albuquerque’s actions. Fado singers typically do not describe strangling and butchering. This can be understood as a reference to torture and other violence perpetrated by the Brazilian military in more recent years. The second song, “Cala a boca, Bárbara”, (Shut Your Mouth, Bárbara) is more specific in its criticism of the military regime. The lyrics allude to the censorship of the arts and media that existed dur-

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ing the military period. One of the verses goes as follows: Cala a boca, Olha a noite, Cala a boca, Olha o frio. Cala a boca, Bárbara. Cala a boca, Bárbara. (Buarque de Hollanda and Guerra 5–6) [Shut your mouth Look at the night Shut your mouth See the cold Shut your mouth Barbara Shut your mouth Barbara]

In this song Bárbara, Calabar’s companion, is told to be quiet during the night. This means literally to keep silent so as not to betray the couple’s position as they try to elude the Portuguese. The modern equivalent of this is not revealing one’s political position. Instead of being open about where one stands on issues, under dictatorship one must be silent and not draw official attention. The song can also be understood in terms of the censorship of the arts. In 1968, the AI5 (Institutional Act Number 5) prohibited Brazilians from speaking out against the regime. Those who did were subject to censorship, imprisonment or torture. Calabar: O elogio de traição itself is a prime example of a work that was censored and could not be presented to the audience in its original format when it was scheduled to be produced. As Perrone points out, This single verse (‘Cala a boca Bárbara’) is an ironic reflection of the fate that befell Calabar, an episode which, in all its ramifications, is one of the best reflections of the conflicts in Brazil between military authoritarianism and the performing arts. (87)

The case of Calabar: O elogio da traição reflects how concerned the military authorities were regarding the arts in general and theater in particular. In addition to keeping one’s true beliefs to oneself, the third song, “Vence na vida quem diz sim”, (To Win in Life, Say Yes) ironically explains how one can get ahead in such an oppressive situation. In the song, Anna de Amsterdam, a prostitute who has come to


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Pernambuco to ply her trade, describes how one must go along with the authorities regardless of how one really feels. She sings: ANNA. Vence na vida quem diz sim. Vence na vida quem diz sim. Se te jogam lama, Diz que sim... Se te chamam vagabunda, Montam na cacunda, Se te largam moribunda. (Buarque de Hollanda and Guerra 46) [ANNA. He who is successful in Life says “yes”. He who is successful in Life says “yes”. If they throw mud on you say yes If they call you a tramp, If they jump on your back, if they leave you for dead.]

This is a clear allusion to life under the military regime where many went along with the government regardless of what they believed or how they truly felt. Anna de Amsterdam’s profession—prostitution—is also symbolic of the colonial condition. As a prostitute Anna sells herself to anyone to make money. The corollary to this is that in a colony and/or under an undemocratic regime both human and land resources are sold for profit. By depicting a prostitute explaining how to succeed in intolerable conditions, playwrights Chico Buarque de Hollanda and Ruy Guerra offer the audience an opportunity to consider their own position in society. Are they, too, selling out to the regime by not protesting repression? Prostitutes are characters frequently found in Brechtian dramas because they are marginalized members of society who persevere regardless of their lowly status. Their very survival thus presents audience members with strategies for endurance and subversion. DUTCH COLONIALISM IN BRAZIL

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ct II of Calabar: O elogio da traição portrays Dutch colonialism and juxtaposes it with that of the Portuguese. It begins with Maurício de Nassau-Siegen explaining how Calabar did not die in vain (more about Calabar himself later in this chapter). Nassau then proceeds to tell the audience how he intends to govern Pernambuco. He does not wish to use force and elucidates:

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NASSAU. O que importa é que, apesar dessas dificuldades, não vim trazer uma política de repressão. Apoiado na unidade das nossas forças armadas, que estão com seu soldo em dia, vim disposto à confraternização e à colaboração mútua.Reduzirei os impostos. Garantirei a portugueses igualdade de direitos com os holandeses...(Buarque de Hollanda and Guerra 66) [NASSAU. What is important is that even though there are difficulties, I didn’t come here to bring a repressive regime. Supported by the unity of our armed forces, which are paid on time, I am in favor of mutual friendship and collaboration. I will reduce taxes. I will guarantee the Portuguese the same rights as the Dutch.]

Although at first it appears that Nassau intends to rule in a more democratic fashion than his Portuguese predecessor who imposed religious, social, and economic domination, the spectator will soon understand that his statement only promotes equality between the Portuguese and the Dutch, i.e., between two imperialist powers. The Brazilians are ironically left out of the picture. This is a clear call for a nationalist voice in modern-day Brazil. It further relates to the contemporary era by drawing attention to the close relationship between the Brazilian military and the foreign economic powers (e.g. multinationals) which overlooked the Brazilian people. Nassau’s pledge to bring artists and painters to beautify the colony and scientists to enhance its intellectual quality is also a not-so-veiled reference to cultural imperialism. The foreign artists, scientists, and doctors appear in the stage directions in an entourage surrounding Nassau. They are thus not necessarily serving Brazilian interests but rather those of the colonizer. Under Nassau, there was in fact more religious freedom in Brazil than under the Portuguese. The Protestant Dutch are here portrayed as somewhat more progressive than the Catholic Portuguese. For instance, Jews are allowed to worship in the territory. CONSULTOR. Souberam com escândalo que aqui se dá liberdade aos judeus como em nenhuma outra parte do mundo. E que, aproveitando-se disso, os cristãos-novos que fugiram da Inquisição na Europa, aqui se circuncidam em praça pública, ufanando-se de se declararem novamente judeus. (Buarque de Hollanda and Guerra 93) [CONSULTANT. It is scandalously known that they give Jews freedom like no other place on earth. And that, the New Christians who escaped the Inquisition in Europe, take advantage of this by circulating in the public square, proudly declaring themselves Jews again.]


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The Dutch provide such liberties in order to encourage trade and economic growth. Since the Jews and the New Christians were highly involved with the sugar trade, the Dutch wanted to take advantage of good relations with them. This is a typically Brechtian mode of demonstrating that things are not always as they seem. Nassau is not kind and generous to the Jews out of the goodness of his heart but rather because they can be used for economic advantage. Regardless of how the Dutch go about colonizing the region, they, too, are interested in making a profit from Brazilian resources just as much as are the Portuguese. For this reason neither empire is better than the other. The fact that both Mathias de Albuquerque and Maurício de Nassau are played by the same actor demonstrates how the two are in essence very much the same. The doubling of characters is a Brechtian technique which forces the audience to concentrate on the specific attributes of each character; every gesture, expression, and utterance reveals the individual’s sociopolitical opinions. In the case of Albuquerque/Nassau, the doubled character is an imperialist who is intent upon exploiting Brazil’s natural resources without regard for the Brazilian people. This in turn is yet another call for the audience to become more nationalistic and stand up to those who wish to take advantage, i.e., the Brazilian military and the multinationals. The idea that foreigners know what is best for Brazil is ironically attacked in the song “O elogio da traição.” This song, which is sung at the end of Act II, provides a repetitive critique of Brazilian foreign and domestic policy: O que é bom pra Holanda é bom pro Brasil O que é bom pra Luanda é bom pro Brasil O que é bom pra Espanha é bom pro Brasil O que é bom pra Alemanha é bom pro Brasil O que é bom pro Japão é bom pro Brasil O que é bom pro Gabão é bom pro Brasil... O que é bom pro inglês é bom pro Brasil O que é bom pra vocês é bom pro Brasil (Buarque de Hollanda and Guerra 119–120) [What is good for Holland is good for Brazil What is good for Luanda is good for Brazil What is good for Spain is good for Brazil What is good for Germany is good for Brazil What is good for Japan is good for Brazil

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What is good for Gabon is good for Brazil What is good for the English is good for Brazil What is good for you is good for Brazil]

The refrain of this song is an extended variation of a statement by one of Brazil’s military commanders, Minister Juraci Magalhães. The Minister is quoted as saying “O que é bom para os Estados Unidos, é bom para o Brasil” (What is good for the United States is good for Brazil) (Ponte Preta 15). By indicating that United States’ interests are good for Brazil, the military discounts the needs and concerns of the Brazilian people. It also infers that Brazil is still an underdeveloped Third World country that must accept the leadership and guidance of an industrialized nation such as the United States. In the song the names of various countries are sung in a rhyming pattern pairing geographically disparate nations and adding to the ironic humor of the lyrics. The final line, however, is more serious. The “vocês” (you) in “O que é bom pro vocês, é bom pro Brasil” [what is good for you is good for Brazi]l refers to the members of Brazilian audience itself, who are invited and encouraged to think about what is best for them. In this way the playwrights call for a nationalist approach to Brazilian problems. In both Felizmente há luar! and Calabar: O elogio da traição the playwrights examine the issue of self-interest and treason with the inclusion of conspiracies. Lindenberger explains that numerous historical dramas contain conspiracies because conspiracies can easily dramatize political conflict: The ideal situation for a play about conspiracy is a regime that shows one or more weaknesses which could prove fatal to its continuance—a regime characterized, for instance, by its ineptness (Richard II), fears about its legitimacy or security (Richard III, Egmont), or a display of tyranny which awakens an ‘idealistic’ challenge from its subjects (Julius Caesar, Cinna). Conspiracy can best be dramatized in situations where both the ruling authority and its opponents are visible to the audience; thus, monarchies, dictatorships, and oligarchies (for instance, those of Venice or late republican Rome) lend themselves much more readily to conspiracy plays than does a modern democracy. (31)

Many historical dramas, including the above-mentioned by Shakespeare, contain conspiracies that focus on undemocratic types of governments. In both Felizmente há luar! and Calabar: O elogio da traição the dramatic portrayal of Portugal and Pernambuco lends


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itself to a conspiracy format as the governments sense their vulnerability and struggle to maintain power. The Portuguese Conselho do Reino is concerned about its legitimacy and the prospects of revolt. In the case of Pernambuco, both the Portuguese and the Dutch see each other as a threat to their control over the sugar-rich colony. The modern-day equivalent to the types of governments which invite yet prosecute conspiracies may be found in Portugal and Brazil. The Estado Novo, or New State founded in the 1930s by António de Oliveira Salazar, was extremely repressive and can be compared with the contemporaneous fascist dictatorships of Franco’s Spain, Nazi Germany, and Italy under Mussolini.8 According to D.L. Raby, The suppression of political parties and free trade unions, the systematic use of censorship and of the political police, the development of typically fascist institutions such as the official party, the paramilitary Portuguese Legion and Youth Movement (Mocidade)—all of this created a thoroughly repressive atmosphere and a comprehensive system of control over the population. (3)

Because of its repressive qualities, the Estado Novo of Portugal was the type of government that could be re-created on stage via the format of a conspiracy. Salazar’s regime feared threats from the opposition and Monteiro replicates and dramatizes this with the historical example of the conspiracy against General Gomes Freire. In the case of Brazil, the military government also restricted political parties, demonstrations, and unions and employed censorship to maintain itself in power. Playwrights Buarque de Hollanda and Guerra adapted the conspiracy format in their drama to allude to the very real fear that motivated those in power to repress the population. Calabar: O elogio da traição goes further by attacking the economic exploitation of Brazil under the military, and depicts how the conspiracy to capture Calabar involved self-interest and opportunism. In most cases conspiracies require the betrayal of comrades and friends, and this is found in both Felizmente há luar! and Calabar: O elogio da traição. The main conspiracy in Felizmente há luar! is that of the Conselho do Reino to capture virtuous and popular General Gomes Freire. D. Miguel, Principal Sousa, and regent Beresford worry that an insurrection against them will take place and a parliamentary Cortes system will be established. According to them, such a system would create anarchy and do away with the privileges afforded to the nobility. Portugal would, in fact, have the

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equivalent of a civil war shortly thereafter (1828–34) over the conflicting political philosophies of absolutist and constitutional monarchy. The triumvirate portrayed by Monteiro sees the recent Pernambucan Revolution of 1817 as reason for concern: D. MIGUEL. De toda a parte me vêm relatórios inquietantes, Reverência.O povo fala abertamente em revolução... VICENTE. No Cais do Sodré há um café, Excelência, onde se reúnem todos os dias os defensores do sistema das cortes... D. MIGUEL. A revolta de Pernambuco incendiou as almas. (Monteiro 35–36) [D. MIGUEL. I am getting bad reports from everywhere, your Reverence. The people speak openly about revolution. VICENTE. At the Sodré Docks there is a café, your Excellency, where the defendors of the court system get together every day D. MIGUEL. The Pernambuco revolt fires the souls].

The Pernambucan revolt, in fact, “represented the most critical challenge to Portuguese authority of any late-colonial regional uprisings in Brazil” (Allen 350). It began on March 6, 1817, when Captain José de Barros Lima killed General Manuel Joaquim Barboza de Castro after a plot to overthrow the Portuguese was discovered. The uprising lasted approximately three months, during which time a provisional government was set up which established diplomatic relations with other countries including the United States (Mourão 24–26). For the Conselho do Reino the thought of a similar uprising in Portugal itself is very disturbing. REVOLT IN PORTUGAL

I

n addition to fear of revolt, D. Miguel—absolutist par excellence— is also worried that he will be killed in much the same way that the French guillotined their king and queen during the French Revolution of 1789. D. MIGUEL. Querem matar-me? BERESFORD. Talvez não o queiram, mas têm de o fazer... D. MIGUEL. (Falando sozinho) Sempre a Revolução Francesa...Temos que a impedir seja como for. Temos de a impedir com tal brutalidade que ninguém volte a conjurar neste reino...Se o não fizermos, se tivermos piedade, ou escrúpulos, mais tarde ou mais cedo voltaremos ao mesmo. (Monteiro 41–42)


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[D. MIGUEL. They want to kill me? BERESFORD. Maybe they don’t want to, but they have to...(speaking to himself) It’s always the French Revolution...Whatever it is, we must stop it. We must stop it so brutally that no one will ever consider upsetting this kingdom...If we don’t do it, if we have mercy, or scruples, sooner or later we will return to the same thing].

In this brief soliloquy about the French Revolution, D. Miguel reveals his concern that the Portuguese monarchy will be overthrown, leading to a classless society. He also fears for his life and feels that preventing a revolution in Portugal would justify any means, however brutal they may be. D. Miguel’s cruelty and desire to stay in power are very clear in this exchange and build up to the conspiracy to find a scapegoat. It is Beresford who decides that the conspiracy should focus on someone from the military. He feels that others doubt his ability to command and worries that a military officer with a better record will take his place: BERESFORD. Não devo esquecer-me de que estou rodeado de inimigos: o clero odeia-me porque não sou da sua seita; a nobreza, porque lhe não concedo privilégios; o povo porque me identifica com a nobreza, e todos, sem exeção, porque sou estrangeiro...Neste país de intrigas e de traições, só se entendem uns com os outros para destruir um inimigo comum e eu posso transformar-me nesse inimigo comum, se não tiver cuidado. (Monteiro 65) [BERESFORD. I shouldn’t forget that I am surrounded by enemies: The Church hates me because I am not of their faith; the nobility, because I do not hand out privileges; the people, because they identify me with the nobility, and everyone, without exception, because I am a foreigner...In this country of intrigue and treason, the only people who understand each other are those who wish to destroy a common enemy and if I’m not careful, I could become this common enemy].

Beresford’s words reveal how he feels perceived as an outsider in Portuguese society. This is a comment on how he is a ruler out of touch with the people—an imperialist who wishes to exploit the Portuguese. The author’s marginal notes indicate that the last line of Beresford’s speech is to be said “no tom de quem já pensou no assunto” (in the tone of someone who has thought about the topic) (Monteiro 65). This reference indicates that the Englishman is somewhat paranoid about his fate in Portugal. He understands that his position is not secure, especially during times of political turmoil.

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Of the three regents, it is Principal Sousa the priest who shows some reservation about condemning an innocent man. In the margin of the text, however, the stage directions clarify that this is only pretense: O Principal Sousa, que só no segundo acto se revela inteiramente, apenas pretende salvar a sua consciência, isto é, apenas deseja ser convencido, pelos outros, da necessidade de tomar as medidas que, aliás, já está inteiramente decidido a tomar. (Monteiro 61) [Principal Sousa, who reveals himself entirely only in the second act, merely tries to save his conscience, that is, he only wants to be convinced by the others of the necessity to take measures that he has, in fact, already decided to take.]

Even though Principal Sousa seems worried about condemning an innocent man, his concern is insincere. He will go to whatever lengths necessary, along with the others, to maintain his position of power. Lengthy notes in the margin such as these indicate Sttau Monteiro’s intention that the play be read as well as performed; though composed in 1961, incidentally, it was not staged until 1980. Directions of this sort are not found in Calabar: O elogio da traição, denoting Chico Buarque de Hollanda’s and Ruy Guerra’s belief that the drama would be performed at the time. In order to allay Principal Sousa’s alleged fears, D. Miguel tells him: D. MIGUEL. Não há inocentes, Reverência. Em política, quem não é por nós, é contra nós. (Monteiro 61) [D. MIGUEL. No one is innocent, your Reverence. In politics, whoever is not for us is against us].

The irony of this statement is that it is a reverse variation of Luke 9:50 in the Bible. In that passage, Jesus states that “any man who is not against you is on your side,” meaning that if someone is not openly antagonistic towards you, s/he can be considered peaceful (Hartdegen 1120). D. Miguel’s statement to the priest inverts this interpretation by offering a more Realpolitik perspective. For the nobleman, it is either “us or them” and those who are not openly aligned with him can and should be done away with. D. Miguel has a plan of how to capture, “try” and execute the conspirator in private so that there will be no interference from the King or others. Principal Sousa wonders how this can be achieved


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without the knowledge of the judicial system: PRINCIPAL SOUSA. E quanto a juízes? D. MIGUEL. Reverência: as provas judiciais pertencem ao domínio da razão e, se não pudermos condenar nesse domínio, faremos com que o julgamento decorra no outro, o da emoção, já que a emoção, Reverência, nem carece de provas, nem de apoia na razão. PRINCIPAL SOUSA. E a quem recorreremos? D. MIGUEL. A “patriotas”, Reverência. Há-os sempre prontos a condenar o que não entendem e a classificar de racionais os seus estados emotivos. Os estadistas recorrem a tal gente sempre que a mais nada podem recorrer...(Monteiro 66–67) [PRINCIPAL SOUSA. And the judges? D. MIGUEL. Your Reverence, judicial proof belongs to the domain of reason, and if we cannot condemn him in this domain, we will see to it that the judgment takes place in another, that of emotion; for emotion, Your Reverence, needs no proof, nor does it depend on reason. PRINCIPAL SOUSA. And to whom should we appeal to? D. MIGUEL. To the patriots, Your Reverence. There are always those ready to condemn what they do not understand and to classify as rational their emotional states. The statesmen turn to these people when there is nothing else to do].

Principal Sousa is concerned about how the action will look—especially to the judges, but D. Miguel feels that their action would be justified by the “patriots,” those whose passion can be easily aroused by nationalism, regardless of the legitimacy of the issue. The quotation marks placed on “patriotas” emphasizes the irony with which D. Miguel regards the situation and which should be communicated by the actor’s articulation in performance. He feels that the superpatriotic of the population can be easily manipulated emotionally. This could be interpreted as a critique of those who supported the Estado Novo’s policies out of patriotic duty or nationalist fervor, never questioning the repression. The need for a scapegoat to blame for the ills of society has a modern equivalent in the Portugal of Sttau Monteiro’s day. The Salazar regime maintained power in part by systematically attacking subversives and communists. Artists and playwrights found themselves considered enemies of the state and forced to flee the country. As Marques notes, “Many artists were forced into permanent exile or residence for long periods outside Portugal” (II, 207). Those supporting independence in the African colonies, for example, were considered traitors to the state and frequently apprehended.9

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In order for the conspiracy to work, there is a need for henchmen, and Vicente plays this role in Felizmente há luar! His treachery is apparent from the beginning. In Act I, Scene 1, as Vicente, Manuel and O Antigo Soldado are discussing Gomes Freire, a voice screams, “A polícia!” (Police!) (Monteiro 21). The stage directions call for a chaotic situation in which the group disbands quickly. Vicente is left yelling, “Fujam! Fujam!” [Run! Run!] as the police approach him to ask questions. This scene evokes the omnipresent terror of the time, showing how people were forbidden to gather in the streets to discuss politics. It is clearly suggestive of the Salazar period, during which the PIDE (Polícia Internacional de Defesa do Estado), the Portuguese secret police, and the Portuguese Legion created a climate of fear in which people were afraid to gather or speak openly against the regime. It also reveals how many of the Portuguese people during the Estado Novo were informers, as Vicente stays on the stage to talk with the policemen. VICENTE. Há muito que os não vejo. Que é feito? 10 POLíCIA. Sempre a mesma coisa: rondas, feiras, serviço à porta deste ou daquele...sei lá. E tu? VICENTE. Cá vou discutindo o general, de manhã, à tarde e à noite...Para esta cambada, o Gomes Freire é Deus. (Monteiro 22) [VICENTE. I haven’t seen you in a while. What happened? FIRST POLICEMAN. It’s always the same thing: patrols, fairs, door service for this one or that one...Whatever. And you? VICENTE. I’ve just been talking about the general, morning, noon and night. For this group, Gomes Freire is God].

Vicente wants to inspire trust in both the police and the people. He works for both sides to take advantage of any opportunity that may arise. He declares: VICENTE. Que diferença há entre mim e um fidalgo qualquer? Será que tenho uma cara diferente? Será que sou mais estúpido? Mais baixo? Mais alto? Serão as minhas pernas e os meus braços diferentes das pernas e dos braços dum desses fidalgotes das touradas? Não, meus amigos. A única coisa que me distingue dum fidalgo foi uma coisa que se passou há muitos anos e de que nem sequer tive a culpa: o meu nascimento. Nasci a dois passos daqui, numa trapeira em que nenhum fidalgo entraria. Quando passo lá à porta, só Deus sabe o que sinto... (Monteiro 24–25) [VICENTE. What difference is there between myself and any nobleman? Is it that I have a different face? Could it be that I am more stupid? Or shorter? Or taller? Could it be that my legs and my arms are different from these


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nobleman at the bullfights? No, my friends. The only thing that distinguishes a nobleman is something that happened many years ago and that wasn’t even my fault: my birth. I was born two steps away from here, in a shack that no nobleman would enter. When I go by the front door, only God knows what I feel].

Vicente’s description of his circumstances illustrates the problems inherent in the feudal system. As in a caste system, those born into a certain sector of society can do little to change their position in life. They are doomed to live a life of poverty and to passively accept that those born as nobles inherently have and deserve a better lot. This situation makes Vicente and others more apt to participate in any available scheme to improve their lives. By participating in the conspiracy to turn in the General, Vicente hopes to procure better employment. He exclaims, Se eu souber fazer render o peixe, sou capaz de acabar com uma capela...ou chefe de polícia, quem sabe? (Monteiro 28) [If I can turn a profit from fish, I can bring down a Chapel. .or the chief of police, who knows?]

Ironically, Vicente wants to be the chief of police if the plan works. His behavior illustrates how economics will often determine loyalty. Because of the oppressive nature of poverty Vicente does not feel loyalty to those of his class but instead will work against them by turning in someone who may be in a position to vicariously help the group as a whole. By teaming up with Corvo, a captain in the army, Vicente plans to betray General Gomes Freire to the Conselho do Reino. When the two collaborators are called before Beresford, D. Miguel and Principal Sousa, they say: VICENTE. Excelências, todos falam num só homem... CORVO. Um só nome anda na boca de toda a gente. MORAIS SARMENTO. Senhores Governadores: onde quer que se conspire, só um nome vem à baila. CORVO. O nome do General Gomes Freire d’Andrade! D. MIGUEL. Senhores Governadores: aí tendes o chefe da revolta. Notai que lhe não falta nada: é lúcido, é inteligente, é idolatrado pelo povo, é um soldado brilhante, é grão-mestre da Maçonaria e é, senhores, um estrangeirado...(Monteiro 71–74) [VICENTE. Your Excellencies, they all speak of one man... CORVO. Only one name on every mouth.

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MORAIS SARMENTO. Dear governors: wherever they conspire, only one name comes up... CORVO. The name of General Gomes Freire d’Andrade! D. MIGUEL. Dear governors: here you have the leader of the revolt. Note that he doesn’t lack anything: he’s bright, intelligent, idolized by the people, a brilliant soldier, a grand master of Masonry and he is, sirs, an estrangeirado].

Gomes Freire is the perfect candidate for a scapegoat: Though admirable in most ways, he is an estrangeirado. As such he is not totally accepted by all segments of the population due to the general Portuguese distrust toward those who have spent time abroad.10 Gomes Freire is also a Mason, affiliated with a group that many fear and blame for all of their problems.11 Once Gomes Freire is chosen as the scapegoat, the Church is instrumental in furthering the aims of the conspiracy. The General is made out to be an enemy of God and D. Miguel wants priests to fan the flames of sentiment against him: D. MIGUEL. E, agora, meus senhores, ao trabalho! Para que o país se não levante em defesa dos conjurados, há que prepará-lo previamente. Há gente, senhores, que sente grande ardor patriótico sempre que os seus interesses estão em perigo. Há que provocar esse ardor. Há que pôr os frades, por esse país fora, a bramar dos púlpitos contra os inimigos de Deus. Há que procurar em cada regimento um ofical que se preste a dizer aos soldados que a pátria se encontra ameaçada pelos inimigos de dentro. Há que fazer tocar os tambores pelas ruas para se criar um ambiente de receio...(Monteiro 75) [D. MIGUEL. And now, dear gentlemen, to work! So that this country does not have to rise up in defense of the conspirators, we have to prepare it soon. There are people, gentlemen, that feel such a strong patriotic zeal that their interests are in peril. We have to provoke this ardor. We must have the priests, all across the land, preach from their pulpits against the enemies of God. We must search in every regiment for an official who can tell the soldiers that there is a threat from enemies within the ranks. We must make the drums roll throughout the streets to create an environment of fear].

THE CHURCH

T

he link between patriotism and religion is very clear in this passage; Church and State walk hand in hand, with the clergy as government “servants.” D. Miguel wants the Church to help create a climate of fear and trepidation in which opposition to Gomes Freire will take shape and catch on with the general populace.


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Though Principal Sousa is hesitant at first, he follows D. Miguel’s directive and stirs up the frenzy: PRINCIPAL SOUSA. Meus filhos, meus filhos, a Pátria está em perigo! Os inimigos de Deus preparam, na sombra, a ruína dos vossos lares, a violação das vossas filhas, a morte d’el-rei! D. MIGUEL. Portugueses: a hora não é para contemplações! Sacrifiquemos tudo, mesmo as nossas consciências, no altar da Pátria. PRINCIPAL SOUSA. Morte aos inimigos de Cristo! D. MIGUEL. Morte ao traidor Gomes Freire d’Andrade! (Apagam-se todas as luzes. As personagens ficam na penumbra agitando os braços e erguendo bandeiras no ar. Durante um espaço de tempo muito curto, ouvem- se sinos e os tambores.) (Monteiro 76–77) [PRINCIPAL SOUSA. My sons, my sons, the homeland is in peril! The enemies of God are preparing in the shadows the ruin of our homes, the violation of your daughters, the death of the king! D. MIGUEL. Portuguese: this is not the time for contemplating! We must sacrifice everything now, even our consciences, on our country’s altar. PRINCIPAL SOUSA. Death to the enemies of Christ! D. MIGUEL. Death to the traitor Gomes Freire d’Andrade! (The lights are all turned off. The characters stay in the shadows waving their arms and raising flags in the air. During a short space of time, bells and drums are heard.)]

Gomes Freire is identified not only as a treasonous enemy of the people but also as an enemy of Christ. He is linked by innuendo with all sorts of fear-producing behaviors, such as the rape of innocent daughters and the potential killing of the king. Principal Sousa’s stance is similar to the sentiment of the Padre Pregador of the Inquisition at the auto-da-fé. 12 During the autos-da-fé these priests would provoke the people into a frenzy and in this scene the same thing occurs. Many characters appear onstage waving their hands and flags in the air as the lights dim. In this instance Monteiro employs lighting to create an ominous atmosphere. The sound of drums and bells symbolically unite the Church and State in their mission to kill Gomes Freire. Indeed, in the twentieth century the Catholic Church was one of the factors which was instrumental in maintaining the Estado Novo’s rule.13 In Calabar: O elogio da traição, there is also a conspiracy, though the actions of the character conspired against are somewhat different from those of Felizmente há luar! In the Portuguese historical drama General Gomes Freire is depicted more innocently—as a “fall guy”

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rather than as someone who is actually responsible for reprehensible actions. He is a threat to the establishment merely because he is popular with the people and not because he schemes against the power structure. Calabar, on the other hand, actually works against the Portuguese by helping the Dutch capture strategic Porto Calvo. In order to capture Calabar Mathias de Albuquerque enlists the support of three men who fought with him: Filipe Camarão, Henrique Dias and Sebastião Souto. These three men are commonly identified as the first national heroes of Brazil because they represent the three races (Indian, African, and Caucasian, respectively) which compose the Brazilian people: FREI. (Fazendo o sinal-da-cruz.) Viremos a página e tratemos de nos mirar no exemplo dos grandes heróis da nossa Pátria. Acordes lentos e solenes do tema “Vence na vida quem diz sim” acompanham a entrada de Souto, Dias e Camarão. (Buarque de Hollanda and Guerra 42) [FRIER. (Making the sign of the cross.) We will turn a page and try to see ourselves in the example of the great heroes of our country. (Slow and solemn chords of the theme “He who says yes wins in life” accompany the entrance of Souto, Dias and Camarão.)]

The irony of declaring the three men “great heroes of our history” is reinforced by the notes of the song, “Vence na vida quem diz sim,” originally sung at a more lively tempo by Anna de Amsterdam, the Dutch prostitute. This is now related to the three so-called heroes because they, too, will do whatever they are told to do in order to improve their situation, including betraying their comrade. Anna exposes the three “heroes” of Brazil and the ways in which they gain power. It is ironic that a prostitute should criticize how Souto, Dias, and Camarão prostituted themselves to the imperial powers and yet are still considered patriotic. Calabar, on the other hand, is deemed a traitor for supporting the opposing imperial Dutch. By juxtaposing these characters and their motivations in this way, with the sound effects “editorializing” in the background, the playwrights provoke the audience to question the legitimacy of the very historical past as it has been traditionally presented by those in power. As in the case of Vicente in Felizmente há luar!, Dias, Camarão and Souto come from disadvantaged backgrounds and are willing to conspire with Mathias de Albuquerque to improve their socioeconomic condition. In so doing each betrays the group that he represents by turning against its members in order to become more accepted in


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colonial society. The first, Henrique Dias, is a freed African slave who has become a fugitive slave hunter or capitão-do-mato. DIAS. O meu nome é Henrique Dias. E sou capitão-do-mato. Toco fogo nos quilombos, Pra catar preto e mulato. Ganhei foro de fidalgo, Prata, patrimônio e patente. Eu tenho uma alma tão branca que já ficou transparente. (Buarque de Hollanda and Guerra 42) [DIAS. My name is Henrique Dias. I am a runaway slave hunter. I set fire to the maroon communities, To snare the black and mulatto. I got my freedom from a nobleman, Silver, patrimony and privilege. I have a soul so white That it has already become transparent].

As a capitão-do-mato Dias is willing to bounty-hunt his own people. He further distances himself from other blacks by describing himself as an “Oreo.” Becoming whiter is further implied by the Frier who describes Dias as “Negro na cor, porém branco nas obras e no esforço. Tenho até notado que ele está ficando um pouco mais claro” [Black in color, but white in work and power. I’ve even noticed that he’s getting a little lighter](42). The idea that Dias’s skin is “ficando um pouco mais clara” becoming a little whiter reveals Brazilian attitudes towards race and “whitening.” Becoming whiter in pigmentation means achieving a higher socioeconomic status. Dias, who has known discrimination and humiliation, feels that by working on the side of the Portuguese he will ultimately be successful. Meus pais foram escravos e eu sofri na carne a chibata e a humilhação...e quando a guerra acabar, bem, aí serei um homem respeitado. (50) [My parents were slaves and I suffered in my flesh the whipping and humiliation...and when the war ends, well, then I will be a respected man].

Dias may achieve riches and some distinction, yet he cannot flee the discrimination that exists in Brazil. “Filho meu não vai conhecer chibata nem humilhação. Meus filhos vão ser quase iguais aos brancos” (50). [My son will not know the whip nor the humiliation. My sons

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will be equal to the whites]. By mentioning that his children will be “quase iguais aos brancos,” [almost equal to the whites], Dias implies how important skin color is in determining one’s place in Brazilian society and that equality is not possible. He will always be a privileged black man, but never enjoy the same rights as those of European descent. On an international level, the black man symbolizes the economically disadvantaged Brazil which will never be on par with a First World country. The second man who collaborates with Mathias de Albuquerque is an Indian baptized Antônio Felipe Camarão, or Camarão (“shrimp”) for short. Camarão’s original name is Poti in his native language. “Minha graça é Camarão/Em tupi, Poti me chamo” (42). [My baptismal name is Shrimp/In Tupi, I am called Poti.] In using this name, Chico Buarque de Hollanda and Ruy Guerra draw from Brazilian literature—Poti appears in José de Alencar’s novel Iracema (1865) as a noble coastal Indian (a Pitiguara) of a group whose protein staple is shrimp as well. They also poke fun at foreigners who are called camarão or “red-faced” after too much sun exposure. With so many interpretations for the Indian’s name, the playwrights make the audience think about what it means to be a native in Brazil. Camarão and Bárbara discuss the oppression of Indians both during the earlier days of colonization and at the time the play was written: BÁRBARA. É escusado perguntar por que é que você luta ao lado do branco CAMARÃO. De todos os lados é uma guerra de brancos. Mas foi o português quem me deu o uniforme, o mantimento e o evangelho. E daqui eu saio com ele até o fim da guerra. BÁRBARA. Eu sei de índios que lutam a luta dos índios. A luta contra os brancos. CAMARÃO. A luta contra o tempo. Minha raça começou a morrer no dia em que o primeiro civilizado botou o pé nas Américas. (Buarque de Hollanda and Guerra 42) [BÁRBARA. There’s no point in asking why you fight alongside the white man. CAMARÃO. It is a white man’s war on all sides. But it was the Portuguese who gave me a uniform, sustenance and the Gospel. And it is from here that I leave with him until the end of the war. BÁRBARA. I know of Indians that fight the war of Indians. The war against the whites. CAMARÃO. It’s a battle against time. My race began to die the day in which the first civilized man put his foot in the Americas].


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Camarão foresees the demise of the Indians and wants to participate in an evolving white society instead. Rather than merely remaining part of Indian lore and oral history, he prefers to take his place in the history books written and published by and for the white man in order to more widely record and praise his own career. In this way Camarão, like the other characters in the play, pursues his own agenda regardless of how it affects others. CAMARÃO. Meu nome não vai entrar nos contos que o índio pai conta pro índio filho, e este pro seu curumim, e deste pro curumim, até que não vai ter mais curumim nenhum pra escutar esses contos. Não. O meu nome vai ficar nos livros que o branco manda imprimir para sempre. (Buarque de Hollanda and Guerra 51–52) [CAMARÃO. My name will not enter in the stories an Indian father tells his Indian son, and this one for his curumim and that one for his curumim, until there are no more curumim to hear these tales. No. My name will enter into the books that the white man has printed for eternity].

By wanting to become a part of white civilization Camarão distances himself from his own people. He becomes assimilated into the dominant culture and in so doing loses part of his own. This is very revealing for the Brazilians who wish to leave their “Brazilianness” behind and become like more industrialized nations. The audience must then consider what can be lost by becoming more modern. Tradition, symbolized by the Indian’s oral history, is an important aspect of culture that could disappear during times of socioeconomic change and “advancement.” Poti’s acknowledgment that white civilization has more “longevity” than the finite Indian civilization also exposes the oppression of Indians during the initial colonization of Brazil and into the late twentieth century. The third man is Souto, a mercenary who has fought on the side of many armies: combati normalmente sob as ordens de chefes espanhóis, franceses, italianos, polacos, alemães, que também achavam normal lutar pela bandeira que pagasse mais” (54). [I normally fought under the orders of Spanish, French, Italian, Polish, and German leaders, who also thought it typical to fight for the flag that paid the best].

Souto was involved in the brutal subjugation of the Indian tribes, killing many people. He explains the reasons for his participation in these massacres:

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SOUTO. Falaram em religião, acreditei. Não perguntei nada, mas disseram que era a luta entre Deus e os diabos. Depois desconfiei que se matava e morria pelo comércio do açúcar, do sal, pelo ouro e pela prata, pelo tráfico de escravos de Angola e da Guiné, pelo domínio dos mares, para o transporte da pimenta, da cochonilha, da nozmoscada, do pau-brasil, e aceitei. (Buarque de Hollanda and Guerra 54) [SOUTO. They spoke of religion, and I believed. I didn’t ask anything, but they said that it was the fight between God and the devils. Later I suspected that they killed and died for the commerce of sugar, of salt, of gold and of silver, for the slave trade of Angola and Guinea, for the domination of the seas, to transport pepper, cochineal, da nutmeg, Brazil wood, and I accepted it].

By using religion as an excuse to kill Indians the playwrights comment on how a political platform can be adopted to justify the torture and murder of thousands of dissidents. Souto is depicted as a cynical mercenary who will follow orders, regardless of their cruelty. Eventually he realizes that material gain motivated those who commanded him and with this knowledge he ironically becomes a voice of conscience. These three are not the only ones who betray Calabar. Bárbara, his companion, does so as well by sleeping with Souto.14 Like the others, she sells herself though in her heart she still loves Calabar. Bárbara’s character is complicated—every time Souto even refers to her former lover Bárbara grows incensed and tells him that he cannot even mention Calabar’s name. Yet, she still allows the man who handed her lover over to the Portuguese to have relations with her. Bárbara, however, is not an opportunist like Anna, who encourages her to make the most of her beauty by being a prostitute. Instead, she is a marginalized individual who had the privilege of coming into contact with someone who had laudable ideals (Calabar). In his absence she must make do with her low position in society. In Felizmente há luar! and Calabar: O elogio da traição, the themes of conspiracy and betrayal evoke a critique of the twentiethcentury regimes in Portugal and Brazil. In both countries the regimes do not act in the best interest of people but rather that of the State and the maintenance of those in power. Due to unequal economic distribution, underlings such as Vicente, Corvo, Souto, Dias and Camarão are willing to help those in power maintain their position, even if it means going against their own class, race, and nation.


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Overall, both dramas reveal how oppression can make many act in ways that they would not otherwise. THE MARTYR

I

n each of the dramas, there is a martyr-like figure that dies for an ideal. In Felizmente há luar! this figure is General Gomes Freire. At the end of Act I, Gomes Freire is taken into custody and it is left to Matilde, his companion, and Sousa Falcão, a loyal friend, to attempt to save his life. SOUSA FALCÃO. (Com ternura) Todos somos chamados, pelo menos uma vez, a desempenhar um papel que nos supera. É nesse momento que justificamos o resto da vida, perdida no desempenho de pequenos papéis indignos do que somos...(Avançam para a frente do palco enquanto desaparece gradualmente a luz que iluminava a cómoda e a cadeira. A meio caminho, António de Sousa Falcão afasta-se e sai pela esquerda. Matilde fica isolada ao centro, e à frente do palco). (Monteiro 93) [SOUSA FALCÃO. (Tenderly) We are all called upon, at least once, to carry out a role that is too great for us. It is in that moment that we justify the rest of our lives, which are lost in the portrayal of the small unworthy roles of ourselves...(moving towards the front of the stage while the light that lit up the sofa and chair gradually disappears. Halfway there, António de Sousa Falcão moves away and exits stage left. Matilde remains alone, downstage center)].

Through the staging of this scene Matilde is depicted as reluctantly rising to the occasion. She stands alone, though with the moral support of Sousa Falcão, in her quest for justice. Sousa Falcão’s comment that there are defining moments in one’s life in which one must take a stand is intended to provoke audience members to consider what they themselves are doing to support or oppose the government. The diminishing light onstage adds to Matilde’s sense of isolation. Matilde then begins a long address that is divided by short pauses. She relates in a melancholy tone what it is like to be a woman in Portuguese society. Indeed the margin notes read: “Não há nada de heróico neste monólogo de Matilde. Todo ele é triste, dolorosamente triste”, (93). (There is nothing heroic in Matilde’s monologue. All of it is sad, painfully sad.) After each short paragraph describing how women must care for their children and husbands. As a poor woman Matilde does not feel that she has any power to change her circumstances, much like a significant percentage of the Portuguese popu-

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lation. Her attitude is negative until she finally states, “Mas é preciso começar!...Vou enfrentá-los. É o que ele faria se aqui estivesse...” (Pausa) (95). (But I must begin/ It is necessary to begin. (Pausing)) I will challenge them. It is what he would do if he were here. Thinking of Gomes Freire gives Matilde strength and she decides that the moment has come to begin her fight. In this way Sttau Monteiro suggests that it is never too late to battle oppression, no matter how marginalized one may be. Matilde attempts to meet with each of Portugal’s three leaders to save Gomes Freire, and her encounters with them further reveal the low socioeconomic status of women in Portuguese society. She first sees Beresford: BERESFORD. (Trocista) Vem, então, pedir-me clemência? MATILDE. Venho pedir-lhe que o liberte. É-me indiferente que o faça por favor, por clemência ou por qualquer outro motivo. (Monteiro 98) [BERESFORD. (Jokingly) Are you coming then to ask me for mercy? MATILDE. I come to ask you to free him. It doesn’t matter to me if you do it as a favor, for mercy or for any other reason.]

In the margin notes, Sttau Monteiro adds, “O facto de ser procurado por Matilde diverte o Marechal” (98). The fact that Matilde seeks him out amuses the Marshall Beresford’s mocking tone reveals his contempt for Gomes Freire and patronizing attitude toward the Portuguese woman. He views himself as superior toward those without power and is indifferent to their suffering. At first Matilde is not intimidated by Beresford’s stance and pleads her case before him: MATILDE. Às mulheres, senhor, pouco interessa a justiça das causas que levam os seus homens a afastar-se delas. A injustiça e a tirania, só se sente quem anda na rua, quém é homem ou quer ser homem. (Pausa) Que me importa, a mim, que o rei seja tirano e o país miserável e mal governado? Que me importa que as cadeias estejam cheias, o exército por pagar e o povo a morrer à fome? (Pausa) Quero o meu homem! Quero o meu homem aqui, ao meu lado! Quero acabar os meus dias em paz! (Pausa: domina-se) As mulheres, sr. Marechal, estão sempre dispostas a colaborar com a tirania para conservarem os maridos em casa. (Monteiro 98–99) [MATILDE. Women, sir, are not very interested in the justice of the causes which take their men away from them. Injustice and tyranny are felt in the street by whoever is a man or wants to be a man. (Pausing) What does it matter to me if the king is a tyrant and the country is poor and badly gov-


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erned? (Pausing) What do I care if the jails are full and the army has yet to be paid and the people are dying of hunger? (Pausing: collecting herself) I want my man! I want my man here, by my side! I want to end my days in peace! (Calming down: regains herself) Women, sir, are always prepared to go along with tyranny to keep their husbands at home].

Matilde’s words and her beliefs are not one and the same. The notes of the margin indicate that “Estas afirmações são proferidas em tom de desafio, até porque não correspondem à verdade. Matilde, ao fazêlas, está a desafiar a sua própria consciência” (98). [These affirmations are offered in the tone of a challenge, mostly because they do not correspond with the truth]. By making them Mathilde is challenging her own conscience. While Matilde extrapolates as to how women are disinterested in politics and only want their men at home, she thinks otherwise. She is well aware of the injustice and oppression in Portuguese society and reveals this to the audience by negating her interest in it. By having a woman speak the “truth,” Sttau Monteiro is also adressing the low status of women during the Estado Novo. Beresford does not change his mind regarding Gomes Freire and instead tries to humiliate Matilde by asking her what the General would think if he knew that she was pleading for his life: MATILDE. (Envergonhada) Prefiro não saber. BERESFORD. Vende-lhe, assim, a honra para o salvar? MATILDE. É a minha que vendo e não a dele. (Monteiro 99) [MATILDE. (Embarrassed) I prefer not to know. BERESFORD. You sell your honor this way to save him? MATILDE. It’s mine to sell and not his].

Beresford brings up the question of honor because he knows that as a military man having a woman beg for his life would disgrace General Gomes Freire. Matilde knows this also, but will do anything to save him. When she realizes that Gomes Freire will be executed anyway, her indignation is obvious. MATILDE. (Exaltadíssima) Não o matem, sr. Marechal! Mandem-no para a guerra, deixem-no morrer como um homem, batendo-se com inimigos que possa reconhecer! (Monteiro 103) [MATILDE. (Extremely upset) Don’t kill him, Sir Marechal! Send him to war, let him die like a man, fighting against enemies that he can recognize!]

Matilde discovers that Beresford is not concerned with honor after all.

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She angrily asserts that an execution is a not a dignified way for General Gomes Freire to die. In his lifetime the General fought in many battles, but this is one in which he cannot fight back. Because Gomes Freire is jailed (and is symbolically silenced by not appearing onstage), Matilde is the only one who can speak in his defense—which she does adamantly. When she attempts to meet with D. Miguel with the aid of Sousa Falcão to persuade him not to execute the General, the legal status of the relationship between Matilde and Gomes Freire is brought up: CRIADO. (Reaparecendo) Sua Ex.a não recebe amantes de traidores e amigos dos inimigos d’el-rei. SOUSA FALCÃO. (Desvairado, corre para o fundo do palco) Cão! Covarde! Assassino! Pega na espada e vem bater-te como um homem! Não te escondas atrás do cargo que ocupas! Eu sei quem tu és!...(O criado desaparece e Sousa Falcaão segue-o, gritando, até desaparecer também) Cão! Assassino! (Monteiro 128) [SERVANT. (Reappearing.) His Excellency does not receive the lovers of traitors and friends of the king’s enemies. SOUSA FALCÃO. (Upset, running to the back of the stage.) Dog! Coward! Assassin! Grab a sword and come hit me like a man! Don’t hide behind the office you occupy! I know who you are! (The servant disappears and Sousa Falcão follows him, yelling, until he disappears also.) Dog! Assassin!]

By running and screaming the General’s loyal friend displays his impotence and low social status in relation to those who make decisions. He cannot save Gomes Freire and instead goes mad because the system is unjust. After Sousa Falcão runs off, Matilde returns to the stage “nitidamente humilhada pela resposta do governador e marcada pelo sofrimento dos últimos dias” (completely humiliated by the response of the governor and marked by the suffering of the last few days.) (128). Through her body language Matilde shows that the situation and the final insult by the governor have affected her. MATILDE. Amante dum traidor...E assim acabamos a vida...Tu, que deste aos homens tudo o que tinhas e viveste de mãos abertas, acabas enforcado com o rótulo de traidor. E eu...que nasci tua mulher, (Começa a chorar) morro tua amante! Nem me recebem, meu amor. (Monteiro 128–129) [MATILDE. Lover of a traitor...and this is how we end our lives. You who gave everything you had to these men and lived with open arms, and you end up hung with the title of traitor. And me...I was born to be your wife


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(starting to cry) I die as your lover! They won’t even receive me, my love].

Matilde is vilified in that she is labeled Gomes Freire’s “companion” or “lover” and not granted the honor of being called a wife in spite of her lifelong sacrifice to support him. Such is the low status of women in Portuguese society of the day—unless officially married by the Church, they were disregarded as “amantes” (lovers). During the Salazar era, women also enjoyed very few rights: they had no vote and were not granted passports, for example, without the permission of their husbands or fathers until 1968, besides having extremely limited educational and professional opportunities.15 After her attempt to meet with D. Miguel is thwarted, Matilde seeks out cleric Principal Sousa. Though she succeeds in meeting with him, the cleric also rejects her plea for clemency. In her exchange with him she brings up the sacrificial way in which the general is selected for death and likens it to the crucifixion of Jesus: MATILDE. O senhor, como governador do reino, mandou prender e condenar um inocente... PRINCIPAL SOUSA. As razões do Estado... MATILDE. Conheço esse argumento. Foi com ele que justificaram a condenação de Cristo! (Monteiro 132) [MATILDE. Sir, as governor of this kingdom, you ordered an innocent caught and condemned. PRINCIPAL SOUSA. Matters of state... MATILDE. I know this argument. With it they justified the condemnation of Christ!]

Matilde continues with the biblical allegory by equating cleric Principal Sousa with Judas in his betrayal of Jesus: MATILDE. Judas, que traiu Cristo uma vez, acabou enforcado numa figueira, mas Vossa Reverência, que o trai todos os dias, vai acabar entre os seus, com todas as honras que neste reino se concedem aos hipócritas e se negam aos justos. O meu homem vai morrer lá em baixo, junto ao mar, com o som do vento nos ouvidos, mas Vossa Reverência há-de morrer, um dia, ouvindo, por entre o latim, as suas pragas. (Monteiro 139) [MATILDE. Judas, who betrayed Christ once, ended up hung on a fig tree, but your Reverence, who betrays him every day, will end up with your own kind, with all the honors that this kingdom can bestow on the hypocritical and deny to the just. My man will die down there below, near the sea, with the sound of wind in his ears, but you, Reverence, will die, one day, listening, in between the words in Latin, to your curses].

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This New Testament imagery is important because it addresses the connection between Church and State both at the time of Gomes Freire’s execution and later in the contemporary era. The Catholic Church received special privileges from, and collaborated with, Salazar’s Estado Novo. As an institution the Church did not speak out against the repression and difficult conditions under which most of the population lived. In the final scene of Act II, Matilde once again tries to change Principal Sousa’s mind. She kneels before him and begs for Gomes Freire’s life but it is already too late. D. Miguel enters the stage and stands next to the cleric, stating: D. MIGUEL. Lisboa há-de cheirar toda a noite a carne assada, Excelência, e o cheiro há-de-lhes ficar na memória durante muitos anos...Sempre que pensarem em discutir as vossas ordens, lembrar-se-ão do cheiro. (Com raiva) É verdade que a execução se prolongará pela noite, mas felizmente há luar...(Monteiro 143) [D. MIGUEL. Lisbon will smell of cooked meat all night, Your Excellency, and the smell will stay in their memory for many years...Whenever they think about disputing your orders, they will remember that smell. (Angry) It’s true that the execution will last into the night, but luckily there is moonlight...]

General Gomes Freire is burned at the stake as a warning for others. The type of execution is significant because the conspirators want to frighten the population. D. Miguel refers to the smell of burning flesh and how it will stick in people’s memory of the event.16 For the audience it is shocking to have moonlight as a setting for such a gruesome event. Usually moonlight is associated with romantic evenings. Matilde watches the execution from a hill overlooking the execution. Dressed symbolically in a green skirt given to her by Gomes Freire, the woman is unwilling to give up the hope that her man’s death is not in vain. She reaches out to a distant place where a distant light representing the pyre slowly dims before returning “com dignidade” to Sousa Falcão’s side: MATILDE. Julguei que isto era o fim e afinal é o princípio. Aquela fogueira, António, há-de incendiar esta terra! (O clarão da fogueira diminui visívelmente) Adeus, meu amor, adeus. Adeus! Adeus! Adeus! (Para o povo) Olhem bem! Limpem os olhos no clarão daquela fogueira e abram as almas ao que ela vos ensina! Até a noite foi feita para que a vísseis até ao fim...(Pausa) Felizmente—felizmente há luar! (Monteiro 152–153)


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[MATILDE. I thought that this was the end and instead it is the beginning. That fire, António, will set this land on fire! (The light of the fire diminishes visibly) Goodbye my love goodbye. Goodbye! Goodbye! Goodbye! (To the people.) Look here! Wash your eyes in the brilliance of that fire and open your souls to what it teaches you! Even the night was made so that you could see up till the end...Luckily there’s moonlight!]

Though Matilde is distraught that her lover is being put to death, she is confident that something good will come from it. She hopes that people will see the execution and that the impact of it will spur them to action. In defiance Matilde utters the same sentence offered earlier by D. Miguel, but with a contrastive and subversive sentiment. The use of an exclamation point in the phrase “Felizmente há luar!” highlights her desire that the execution will somehow change the situation by shedding light on the injustice perpetrated by the executioners. Whereas Gomes Freire is executed as a traitor, his purported actions against the State in Felizmente há luar! are not clear. There are no specific instances in which he committed treason. Instead the general is a convenient scapegoat whom the regime selects and eliminates. In the historical drama he is depicted as a martyr—the victim of an evil conspiracy to maintain the status quo. By presenting Gomes Freire as such, Sttau Monteiro elicits compassion and sympathy from the audience. In Calabar: O elogio da traição the figure of Calabar is more complicated. On the one hand Calabar can be considered a martyr who is betrayed by those close to him. Indeed the staging of his execution is very similar to that of Gomes Freire’s in Felizmente há luar! At the end of Act I Mathias de Albuquerque describes how he intends to execute Calabar: MATHIAS. Calabar seja executado em praça pública, para que sua punição sirva de exemplo. Com baraço e pregão, para que ninguém falte ao espetáculo, e ao som de tambores, para que palavras perniciosas não sejam escutadas. E que Deus e os homens nos perdoem por nossos caminhos se terem cruzado assim. (Buarque de Hollanda and Guerra 40) [MATHIAS. Calabar should be executed in the public square so that his punishment will serve as an example. With a noose, and a town crier so that no one will miss this spectacle, and with the sound of drums, so that pernicious words will not be heard. And may God and men forgive us for our paths having crossed this way].

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Albuquerque wants Calabar to be killed both publicly and painfully to warn others against siding with the enemy, yet the act consummated offstage, perhaps for more than technical reasons. The performance techniques used here by Chico Buarque de Hollanda and Ruy Guerra are very telling. During the Brazilian military dictatorship, acts of torture were practiced not in public, as Albuquerque plans the execution of Calabar, but away from the public eye, in hidden military quarters. Indeed, in Torture in Brazil former prisoners describe being tortured in private prisons called aparelhos. “These torture centers, where many prisoners were killed, allowed the security agencies to conduct their work beyond the reach of the law” (Archdiocese of São Paulo 174). It may be for this reason that the character of Calabar is never presented onstage: in this way, his execution by hanging and quartering is carried out like those of the modern day “disappeared”— in secret. The information regarding the execution is, however, divulged in the form of a “reportive” to the audience, generating fear in much the same way the military did in Brazil. There is also a strong similarity between the reactions of the main female characters in this pair of historical dramas. In Calabar: O elogio da traição Bárbara, like Matilde of Felizmente há luar!, is aghast that the victim is killed without being allowed to fight back: BÁRBARA. Não lhe deram nem a satisfação de morrer na guerra. Ele morreu na forca. Não foi julgado nem nada, não pôde reagir, não teve defesa nem foi condenado. Foi executado e ponto final. (Monteiro 48) [BÁRBARA. They didn’t even give him the satisfaction of dying at war. He died on the gallows. He wasn’t judged, nor could he respond, he wasn’t defended or condemned. He was executed, period].

Calabar, like Gomes Freire, was a warrior and to be executed without being able to fight is an affront to his honor. The fact that he was not judged nor allowed to defend himself is also disturbing to Bárbara. The injustice of the situation alludes to the period of the military regime when people were arrested, tortured and imprisoned without due process. Many people were held in military prisons and other detention centers without formal charges being made. They were also tortured and even killed without knowing why. As a martyr Calabar dies for an ideal and for Bárbara, but Calabar’s death will not put an end to his legacy: BÁRBARA. Eu sei que Calabar deixou uma idéia derramada na terra. A gente


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da terra sabe dessa idéia derramada na terra. A gente da terra sabe dessa idéia, colhe essa idéia e gosta dela, mesmo que ande com ela escondida, bem guardada, feito um mingau esquentando por dentro. (Buarque de Hollanda and Guerra 59) [BÁRBARA. I know that Calabar left an idea strewn across this land...The people of this land know of this idea, they gather up this idea and like it, even though it is hidden, well guarded, like a porridge heating up slowly from inside].

Though the idéia that is Calabar’s legacy is repeatedly emphasized by Bárbara, even the playwrights do not mention exactly what the idea is for fear of censorship. Although the play speaks of a different historical period, the numerous last-minute performance prohibitions are the confirmation that its theme and characters were obviously correlated to Brazil’s political situation in the 1970s. BÁRBARA. A idéia é dessa gente. Os que não gostam da idéia, esses vão se coçar, vão fazer pouco dela, vão achar que é um bicho-do-pé. Depois essa idéia maldita vai começar a aperrear e aperrear o pensamento desses senhores, vai acordar esses senhores no meio da noite...Eles vão querer matar a idéia a pau. (Buarque de Hollanda and Guerra 59) [BÁRBARA. The idea is from this people. Those who don’t like the idea, they are going to scratch themselves, make little of it, think that it is a parasite. Afterwards, this damned idea will begin oppress the minds of these men, it will wake them in the middle of the night. .They will want to beat this idea to death.]

Calabar himself also never divulges his idea to the audience since he never appears onstage. The other characters, such as Bárbara, are the ones who provide the audience with fragments of his discourse. In this way each audience member has the responsibility of discerning exactly what the idea bequeathed by Calabara entails. Bárbara’s repetition is their invitation to ponder the matter. She continues as to how through his execution Calabar’s ideas will be disseminated: BÁRBARA. Mas nem adianta esquartejar a idéia e espalhar seus pedaços por aí, porque ela é feito cobra-de-vidro. E o povo sabe e jura que o cobra-de-vidro é uma espécie de lagarto, que quando se corta em dois, três, mil pedaços, facilmente se refaz. (Buarque de Hollanda and Guerra 59) [BÁRBARA. It’s not worth hanging and quartering an idea and scattering the pieces around because it is like a limbless lizard. And the people know and swear that a glass snake is a kind of lizard that when it is cut in two, three, a thousand pieces, it easily redoes itself.]

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Bárbara compares Calabar’s body and ideas to a glass snake (limbless lizard) that, after being cut up, multiplies and becomes many more snakes. The image of the “cobra-de-vidro” is intended to be a form of subversion. Chico Buarque de Hollanda and Ruy Guerra want the audience to know that the authorities may attempt to extinguish democratic ideals by killing individuals but their efforts will not succeed. Instead, more “snakes,” or subversives, will arise. Calabar can also be seen as an opportunist who takes advantage of what both the Portuguese and the Dutch have to offer. In this way he is like the Brechtian “anti-hero,” who is not the heroic figure that audiences expect to see. As Severino Albuquerque points out in “In Praise of Treason: Three Contemporary Versions of Calabar,” “Brechtian theater demythologizes the hero by presenting him in such a way as to stimulate conscious or critical rather than blind imitation” (562). The character of Calabar in the historical drama by Chico Buarque and Ruy Guerra is problematic—he fights for different armies and is killed in the end. By portraying the historical figure of Calabar in such a way the playwrights make the audience reconsider the real significance of his actions in light of his day. It also causes viewers to question their own loyalty or disobedience to a politically repressive regime. In summary, Felizmente há luar! and Calabar: O elogio da traição! first depict the earlier situation of colonialism as similar to the contemporary era in both its exploitive economic and politically repressive nature. Felizmente há luar! draws attention to the widespread poverty and underdevelopment that a vast majority of the Portuguese people suffered in the beginning of the nineteenth-century and continue to experience in the twentieth. The rulers in charge of the country—D. Miguel Forjaz, Beresford and Principal Sousa—care little for the poor and fear rebellion. The three mount a conspiracy against General Gomes Freire to ward off revolt. The twentiethcentury analogy to this situation is the repression practiced by the Salazar regime. It, too, feared dissent and used censorship, police intimidation and similar tactics to keep opposition at bay. Calabar: O elogio da traição highlights how the Portuguese and Dutch colonialists vie for control over the profitable sugar industry. In Brazil there is no democratic rule either—just the authoritarian control of both the Portuguese and Dutch empires. The Portuguese governor, Mathias de Albuquerque, and his Dutch counterpart, Maurício de


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Nassau, battle over the area of Pernambuco and the allegiance of its landowners. Each uses different approaches to govern the territory, many of which are oppressive. The modern-day equivalent of these two powers warring over Pernambuco are the entities which fight over Brazilian resources, including multinational corporations and other countries who supported the Brazilian military during the period 1964–1985. Both dramas raise the question of allegiance to repressive regimes by providing the example of historical treason real or alleged. The two “traitors”, Gomes Freire and Calabar, are depicted in a challenging way—they do not appear onstage but are “constructed” by the characters around them. In this form of collage, the audience is invited to actively ponder who the two men were and what they stood for. Other staging techniques derived from Bertolt Brecht are gestus, music and marginalized characters that offer different solutions to the socioeconomic and political problems that they face. Indeed, the oppressive conditions in Portugal and Pernambuco create ideal circumstances for opportunism and treachery as individuals outside the power base assist in conspiracies to improve their own situation. In Felizmente há luar! Monteiro employs lighting effects to create a melancholic atmosphere and stage scenes such as the execution of Gomes Freire. Furthermore, the two historical dramas raise the question of nationalism, though Calabar: O elogio da traição is more explicit in its criticism of foreign intervention. In many scenes the Brazilian people are discounted or simply left out of the picture by the Dutch and the Portuguese. Felizmente há luar!, on the other hand, depicts an impoverished Portugal that is held back from development by powerhungry individuals—both foreign and Portuguese—out of touch with the population at large. Felizmente há luar! and Calabar: O elogio da traição close by challenging audiences to do something about the socioeconomic and political conditions in their respective countries. In the Portuguese drama Sttau Monteiro voices defiance to the Salazar regime through Matilde, who watches Gomes Freire executed. Calabar: O elogio da traição ends on a more ironic note with the song “O elogio da traição” (Calabar is executed earlier in the play). This ending fits the musical format of the drama and also implicitly critiques the policies of the military government. Although the two dramas were not performed

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until several years after they were written, both Felizmente há luar! and Calabar: O elogio da traição provide an excellent insight into the period.

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usophone playwrights writing at times of political upheaval have looked to the past for examples of analogous situations in order to critique present-day institutions and events. Dramas written during the 1960s and 1970s in Brazil and Portugal and in the 1980s in Angola have focused their attention on two major historical institutions—the Inquisition and slavery—as well as individual acts of treason. Lusophone playwrights have used a wide spectrum of dramatic techniques, many of which are derived from Brechtian theater, to portray these historical episodes with the hope that their representation may elicit a political response on the part of the public to present-day exigencies. Modern Lusophone historical dramas rely upon such metaphors for a number of reasons. During the 1960s and 1970s in Brazil and Portugal, playwrights attempted to avoid censorship and other forms of official suppression by writing about past events. The military and authoritarian regimes which governed Brazil and Portugal at the time strictly prohibited dissent, and artists had to contend unrelentingly with government bureaus holding the power to censor parts of works or block entire performances of plays. The “coded” messages presented on stage were a critique of the violence and repression in everyday society under António de Oliveira Salazar in Portugal and the military government in Brazil. Angolan writers, on the other hand, did not have to contend with strong censorship; thus their use

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of history was not motivated by the intent to evade government sanction. As in other African countries, the use of history in African literature was important in developing a sense of nationhood after independence. Angola, as a young nation (Independence, 1975) in crisis, was in need of a unified identity, so playwrights looked to the past for models. Historical themes were therefore employed to create a sense of national unity and understanding of past issues in the hope of solidifying the concept of Angolan nationhood and alerting Angolans to the dangers inherent in external interference. The three historical institutions depicted by Lusophone dramas are very consequential in Angolan, Brazilian and Portuguese history, given their impact in terms of duration and severity. The Inquisition was established in the early sixteenth century and lasted three centuries. During this period thousands were imprisoned, tortured and executed. The two dramas about the Inquisition—O Judeu by Bernardo Santareno and O Santo Inquérito by Alfredo Dias Gomes— focus on repressive elements of the institution and the way in which individuals were terrorized into relinquishing their own ideas and values. In both dramas a connection is made between the Inquisition’s objective to limit religious beliefs and practices and the twentiethcentury regimes’ attempts to curtail free speech and artistic expression. The next historical institution is that of slavery, which also persisted more than three centuries. During this time millions of Africans were captured and sent to the Americas to work under inhuman conditions. Of the three Lusophone historical dramas about slavery, A revolta da casa dos ídolos by Pepetela focuses on the origins of the slave trade in early encounters between the Portuguese and the Kingdom of the Congo. This drama finds a correlation between the outside forces which disrupted earlier Congolese society and the Cold War adversaries who interfered in Angolan politics four centuries later. The second Angolan drama, Mena Abrantes’s Ana, Zé e os escravos, depicts the official end of the slave trade and the reluctance of the slave traders to give up their business. This drama draws a parallel between the persistence of slavery and opportunism and the elusiveness of peace in present-day Angola. In the third Lusophone historical drama on the slave theme, Arena conta Zumbi, the conditions of slavery are likened to the circumstances faced by the Brazilian working poor. Augusto Boal and Gianfrancesco Guarnieri

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portray Palmares, the seventeenth- century maroon colony that was successful in setting up commercial relations with neighboring communities, as a workers’ utopia that the Brazilian elite ultimately manages to destroy. Finally, the third type of historical episode examined in Lusophone historical drama is that of treason. Two dramas, Felizmente há luar! by Luís de Sttau Monteiro and Calabar: o elogio da traição by Francisco (Chico) Buarque de Hollanda and Ruy Guerra, portray real or purported acts of treason and question loyalty to repressive governments in both past and present. Modern Lusophone historical dramas contain many thematic elements found in historical dramas written in other languages. Herbert Lindenberger defines the main types of historical plays to be 1) martyr, 2) tyrant, 3) conspiracy and 4) trial dramas. In the historical dramas studied in this dissertation there is a blending of several of these elements. O Judeu by Bernardo Santareno and O Santo Inquérito by Alfredo Dias Gomes contain both trials and martyr figures. In the latter a young woman, Branca Dias, is brought before the Inquisition for holding heretical beliefs. Branca Dias is characterized as a free spirit who believes in the goodness of God and loves life with all of its pleasures, including bathing in the nude. Branca’s ideas are misunderstood and run contrary to the beliefs of Padre Bernardo, a priest who is both attracted to and repelled by her. It is the Padre who condemns Branca to the Inquisitional authorities who in turn investigate her and her family. Branca is questioned incessantly about her beliefs and practices both by the Padre and members of the Inquisition visitações, yet she does not waver in her beliefs. In the end, she dies a martyr for the principle of free expression. Branca’s martyrdom is depicted with subtle references to the experience of the opposition in Brazil in the 1960s. Like Branca, the opposition groups held beliefs which were contrary to the government and for this they were imprisoned, tortured and killed. Perhaps most symbolically, the issue which disturbs Padre Bernardo the most is Branca’s nudity. After she has told him that she has bathed in the nude, he becomes obsessed with the vision of her body. Nudity is representative of freedom as well as of sexuality—two concepts with which the Padre and conservative authorities have a difficult time dealing. Another trial drama, O Judeu, also contains a martyr figure. This historical drama examines the life of António José da Silva, an eighteenth century Portuguese playwright who is investigated and later

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condemned by the Inquisition. Just as in the trial of Branca Dias, the authorities invent charges and use biased testimony. António José da Silva’s ideas about justice in society and freedom of thought are equally attacked by the authorities, and he dies a death similar to that of Branca Dias in an auto-da-fé set on a higher level. In twentiethcentury terms António José da Silva’s life and death symbolize the quest for liberty in a society ruled by an authoritarian regime. Unlike O Santo Inquérito, O Judeu features a chorus-like character, the Cavaleiro da Oliveira, who points out the points of contact between the past and present and concludes that little has changed in Portugal in over two centuries. People are still fearful in what they say and do and they cannot organize nor protest actions of the corporate state without risking imprisonment and torture. Santareno also draws attention to the correspondence between the economic state of Portugal at the time of the drama’s composition and during the days of António José da Silva himself. In both periods, extreme poverty was epidemic and the authorities were more interested in finding scapegoats than in dealing with the underlying causes of social ills. Several other modern Lusophone historical dramas containing martyr figures also feature conspiracies. In Felizmente há luar!, Calabar: O elogio da traição, and A revolta da casa dos ídolos, there are characters who die for their beliefs after being conspired against by the authorities. The Portuguese drama by Luís de Sttau Monteiro portrays General Gomes Freire, a military man beloved by the people, who is captured as a scapegoat by the government and executed in order to suppress rebellion. Once again the poor economic state of Portugal is advanced as reason for social unrest. In this drama, General Gomes Freire does not appear on stage and his female partner, Matilde, speaks for him. Though she tries valiantly to save his life by going to the authorities, she fails. Similarly, in Calabar: O elogio da traição the character Calabar does not appear onstage and is represented by his female companion, Bárbara. In the latter drama the economic conditions of seventeenth-century Pernambuco, a colony in Northeastern Brazil, are juxtaposed with the economic conditions of the twentieth century. Playwrights Ruy Guerra and Chico Buarque de Hollanda openly criticize the exploitation of the land and people in both periods and inquire as to who really governs Brazil—the multi-national corporations or the Brazilian elite. In both cases, there is an appeal to the people to become more nationalistic and take

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charge of their situation. The Angolan drama A revolta da casa dos ídolos contains two conspiracies which work against one another. The Padre organizes the first conspiracy to collect all of the Africans’ amulets in order to spark distrust and rebellion. Nanga sees what is occurring and plans to foil the Portuguese. In the end he dies trying to unite the people against the Portuguese and the Kingdom’s corrupt leaders. The conspiracy to collect the amulets in the Congo and create civil division can be likened to what has taken place in post-independence Angola. Outside forces such as Cold War adversaries have plotted and armed various factions, who in turn continue to fight one another. Lusophone historical dramas which feature tyrant figures include Ana, Zé e os escravos, Felizmente há luar!, O Judeu, and Arena conta Zumbi. In the Angolan drama, D. Ana Joaquina is portrayed as a cruel slavetrader who does not stop her human commerce even after the official decree of abolition. She treats her slaves poorly and takes pride in deceiving the authorities regarding her business interests. In the drama by Sttau Monteiro, the triumvirate of rulers of Portugal— D. Miguel Forjaz, Beresford and Principal Sousa—are all characterized as men who have little interest in improving the lives of the poor of the country. Instead, they find a way to repress social discontent by unfairly accusing the popular General Gomes Freire of fomenting rebellion. In the drama by Bernardo Santareno, the Inquisidor-Mor is depicted as a tyrannical figure who has no qualms about torturing the accused “for their own good.” This Inquisidor is not only cruel to those incarcerated but also to other colleagues such as the 10 Inquisidor, who questions the Inquisition’s objectives and practices. When the 10 Inquisidor tells the Inquisidor-Mor of his ambivalence towards his work, the latter implores him to continue. It is during the torture of António José da Silva, however, that the 10 Inquisidor finally challenges his superior and leaves. Another tyrant in Lusophone historical drama is Dom Ayres in Arena conta Zumbi, who as governor of Pernambuco ultimately destroys the community of Palmares. In soliloquies that draw from the speeches of modernday leaders, Dom Ayres and Dom Miguel Forjaz of Felizmente há luar! describe their own impopularity and their objectives in ruthlessly suppressing dissent. In their version of history the Lusophone playwrights studied here offer a Leftist perspective which is evidenced by the criticism of

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capitalism in each of the dramas. In O Judeu and Felizmente há luar! the playwrights allude to the extreme poverty in Portuguese society. The elite classes did little to ease the suffering of the rest of the population, but instead tried to find scapegoats to blame for the problems in society. Among the latter appear the estrangeirados— those who lived abroad or had enlightened ideas—and the New Christians. By maintaining a group that could be constantly held culpable, the Inquisition and the Portuguese monarchy could preserve the status quo and avoid revolt. For the playwrights, this has resonance in the twentieth century in the existence of so-called subversives and others who could be faulted for threatening society. During the Salazar period, all those who opposed the regime were labeled Communist subversives. They, like the earlier New Christians or estrangeirados, were considered to have ideas which were “foreign” and un-Portuguese. These enlightened notions challenged the established hierarchy in Portuguese society and conservative elements in the Church. The Brazilian dramas Arena conta Zumbi and Calabar: O elogio da traição serve also as examples of the harsh critique that the playwrights offer of capitalism. In the former there are distinct classes such as the Comerciantes and Donos das Sesmarias, who have little in common except for their race. At first the Comerciantes pledge their support to the Palmarinos but later team up with the Donos das Sesmarias against them. In this drama the Palmarinos work hard because they are the beneficiaries of their own labor. The many allusions to work can be understood as a critique of the working conditions experienced by the Brazilian laborer. The twentieth-century Brazilian worker, like the slave, does not reap the rewards derived from his own labor. Only through emancipation and socialism can this discrepancy be changed. Calabar: O elogio da traição in turn compares the colonialism of Pernambuco by the Portuguese and the Dutch with the economic exploitation of Brazil by multinational corporations in the twentieth century. In both cases, those at the bottom of the socioeconomic scale—the Brazilian people—are not considered in policy matters and are expected to support whoever is in charge without dissent. By switching allegiances from the Portuguese to the Dutch, Calabar questions the status quo and chooses a somewhat better situation— even though it is still colonial and therefore exploitative. Chico

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Buarque de Hollanda and Ruy Guerra use this example to propagate the notion that the Brazilian military and the multi-national corporations are taking excessive advantage of Brazil’s resources and should therefore be confronted. By not supporting the military regime, Brazilians would actually show greater loyalty to their country. In the Angolan historical dramas, capitalism is linked to colonialism. A revolta da casa dos ídolos depicts a society divided by class. With the conversion of the King to Catholicism and the advent of slavery, those in the upper classes try to profit from the sale of their fellow tribesmen. The lust for money and weaponry supersedes any concern for maintaining a united society and is likened to that of warring factions who refuse to come to the peace table for fear of relinquishing their strongholds. Ana, Zé e os escravos also depicts a society where making money is more important than developing strong communal ties. Merchants from Portugal seek to quash rebellion and make Angola a profitable colony. They see slavery as a way to adequately develop the region because, as whites, they feel they lack the physical stamina to do the work themselves. The intense greed of the characters in this drama is analogous to that of those still fighting for control over Angola’s rich resources in the late twentieth century. In modern Lusophone historical dramas, the playwrights attack those they find responsible for creating present-day problems. The Roman Catholic Church is one of the institutions frequently held accountable in terms of the disruption it has caused in society. In the two dramas about the Inquisition—O Santo Inquérito and O Judeu— the Church is directly liable for the persecution of Branca Dias, António José da Silva and their families. This critique of the State Church and the Inquisition is reflective of the role the Church played in the establishment and maintenance of authoritarian regimes in Portugal and Brazil. In both countries the Church was heavily involved in supporting the regimes’ stance against Communism and other “alternative” political philosophies. By criticizing the Church of an earlier period, the playwrights allude to its continued influence in governance in the present day. In Felizmente há luar! the Church is an integral part of the ruling group and shows little compassion for the people. When Matilde asks Principal Sousa for mercy on General Gomes Freire, she is rebuffed. The Church cares little about socioeconomic inequities and instead relishes its high position in the hier-

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archy. In Arena conta Zumbi, A revolta da casa dos ídolos and Ana, Zé e os escravos, the Priests are depicted as hypocritical and cruel to the Africans. They do not care for Africans as individuals and do not respect their traditional institutions. In the drama by Mena Abrantes the Priests fails to follow orders to promote abolition, but instead supports his friend D. Ana, the slave trader. In A revolta da casa dos ídolos the priest seduces a young African girl and cynically maintains that he is “converting” her. The Priests of Arena conta Zumbi treats the slaves as objects that can be easily replaced. It is in this drama that the harshest critique of the Church is made. The Bible is used to justify and then condemn the friendship shown towards the Palmarinos. In the end, instead of symbolizing love and brotherhood, the Roman Catholic faith is used to oppress the less fortunate. This is similarly depicted in A revolta da casa dos ídolos and Ana, Zé e os escravos, where the Church is involved mainly in conquest and colonialism. In addition to thematic metaphors of oppression in modern Lusophone historical drama, playwrights employ performative devices to make the audience think more seriously about its own condition under repression. The methods they use are heavily influenced by Bertolt Brecht, who also tried to expose socioeconomic and political oppression in his day. Music with a social message is one such technique found in Calabar: O elogio da traição and Arena conta Zumbi. Both of these musicals contain songs with lighthearted melodies and serious lyrics about repression and torture. Music is also used in Ana, Zé e os escravos to portray the relations between classes and races. At a ball attended by the governor and D. Ana Joaquina, African and European music plays interchangeably, depicting the conflicting forces in Angolan society. Film is another Brechtian feature found in O Judeu and Arena conta Zumbi. In the Portuguese drama, documentary photos of the Holocaust are presented to connect the slaughter of Jews in the twentieth century with that of the Inquisition. In Arena conta Zumbi, actors show the audience slides of the instruments used on slaves for punishment. The pictures of cruel metal instruments along with the description of what they were used for reinforce the immediacy and impact of oppression. As in many of Brecht’s plays, there are marginalized characters such as prostitutes and poor soldiers. These figures cause the audience to question its own morals and political opinions by offering different strategies for survival. In Calabar: O elogio da traição and

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Felizmente há luar!, for instance, Camarão, Souto, Dias, Corvo and Vicente betray their friends and kinsmen in an attempt to better their lives. This leaves the audience to ponder what is best for the nation as a whole and whether individual concerns are more important than standing up to oppression. The dramatized actions also offer the audience different options for subverting the repressive authorities. In O Judeu and O Santo Inquérito the marginalized character is the Jew who suffers discrimination and abuse at the hands of the Inquisition. In this case playwrights Bernardo Santareno and Alfedo Dias Gomes want the audience to identify political dissidence with the classical “Other”—the Jew. In nearly all of the historical dramas studied here there are examples of Brechtian gestus. In O Santo Inquérito the actual staging of the drama reveals the difference in power and authority amongst the characters. In Felizmente há luar! the tone of voice and body language of Beresford and D. Miguel expose their attitudes toward those beneath them—the Portuguese public. Another Brechtian technique used by the Lusophone playwrights is collage. Ana, Zé e os escravos and O Judeu are excellent examples of dramas which incorporate poetry, drama, correspondence, oral history, film and song. In the first play, the lives of José do Telhado and D. Ana Joaquina are brought to life through use of pieces of material from various sources. In the latter, the dramas written by the tortured eighteenth-century playwright himself and correspondence from other figures of the period help make the burdens suffered by António José da Silva understandable to a twentieth-century audience. In addition to these techniques, Lusophone playwrights establish a connection between past and present through the use of characters who serve as liaisons between the spectators and the actors as well as between the two time periods. Like a Greek chorus, these actors provide additional information for the audiences. In O Judeu the Cavaleiro de Oliveira serves as a prosecutor who questions the actions of the Inquisition. In Arena conta Zumbi the Cantador assists the audience in interrogating that which is taking place before them. In modern Lusophone historical drama, oppression is also dramatized through the use of violence. Among the many types of dramatic violence employed are verbal, physical and implied violence not shown directly to the audience but rather inferred or understood.

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Examples of verbal violence range from the “reportives” of Inquisition victims telling their loved ones of the atrocities they have experienced to the verbal attacks on Jews and New Christians at the autos-da-fé. Physical acts of violence occur in the torture scene of António José da Silva in O Judeu, the beating of slaves in Arena conta Zumbi and Ana, Zé e os escravos, and the execution of other martyr-like characters. In the autos-da-fé of António José da Silva and Branca Dias, the two are killed onstage in the final scenes. Their deaths are likened to the crucifixion of Jesus in both dramatization and symbolism. The executions of Gomes Freire and Calabar, on the other hand, occur offstage and the latter is carried out in the middle of the drama. Though the audience does not witness these executions, references to them conjure up images that are equally disturbing. In conclusion, modern Lusophone historical dramas of Angola, Brazil and Portugal offer not only an enlightened perspective of the past but a critique of the present and a vision of the future. Some of these dramas are more optimistic about the prospects for change. In both Angolan dramas analyzed, for example, the final scenes offer references to a light that is symbolic of hope and peace. Two dramas end on a decidedly defiant note: in the last scene of Felizmente há luar! Matilde watches the execution of General Gomes Freire from a distance and declares her hope that others will witness his death and rise up against injustice and repression; in O Santo Inquérito Branca affirms that she will not be the first, nor the last, to question authority. Other Lusophone historical dramas, on the other hand, are somewhat more pessimistic. O Judeu ends tragically with the Cavaleiro de Oliveira repudiating the ignorance of the Portuguese and António José da Silva’s death. In Arena conta Zumbi Palmares is destroyed along with the dream of freedom from oppression. Of all the dramas, Calabar: O elogio da traição is the most ironic as it demands to know who really controls Brazil. Modern Lusophone historical drama warrants additional research, particularly in the area of African theater. A specific study on the influence of Bertolt Brecht in African drama would clarify performative, thematic and contextual aspects of the two Angolan dramas studied in this dissertation. Also, as the Angolan civil war continues, it would be interesting to know if other historical events in addition to slavery are portrayed as metaphors in future theatrical works.

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Another area that merits further examination is that of the status of historical drama in Brazil and Portugal after the return to democracy in the 1970s (Portugal) and 1980s (Brazil). In Portugal there were several historical dramas written after the revolution. According to José Oliveira Barata, Curiosa e sintomaticamente, também logo após a revolução de 25 de Abril, as grandes crises nacionais vão ser retomadas mas não de forma velada; pelo contrário cada vez mais os objectivos político[s] surgem bem definidos. Neste caso se encontram peças como Arraia-Miúda de Jaime Gralheiro, ou 1383 de Virgílio Martinho. Em algumas destas peças a operação de identificação é tão fácil que quase se poderiam substituir os nomes das personagens retiradas à história e substitui-los por nomes de conhecidas figuras políticas do Portugal democrático. (15) [Curiously and symptomatically, also right after the the April 25 Revolution the grand national crises would be re-addressed but not in a veiled form; in contrast each time the political objectives would arise more and more defined. In this case one encounters plays such as Arraia-Miúda by Jaime Gralheiro, or 1383 by Virgílio Martinho. In some of these plays the identifying operation is so easy that it is almost possible to substitute the names of the people taken from history and substitute them for names of wellknown politicians of democratic Portugal].

Though censorship is no longer a factor contributing to the use of the historical drama format, Portuguese playwrights continue to use the style as a way to comment on the political events taking place. In a 1978 article entitled “A literatura teatral nos últimos cinco anos” Luiz Francisco Rebello mentions the teatro de revista and the comédia musical as two forms of theater that have resurged since the end of the “censura fascista” fascist censorship (55). Other playwrights and critics such as Carlos Wallenstein, Bernardo Santareno and J. A. Osório Mateus cited in the article remark that post-1974 Portuguese theater witnessed a surge of new performing groups, techniques and theatrical spaces. In the case of Brazil, two factors are significant in the continuance of the historical drama: the influence of television and the changing role of theater in Brazilian society. As Margo Milleret explains in “An Update on Theatre in Brazil,” much of the writing talent that previously went to the theater has recently gone to the television industry: Dramatists already writing scripts are attracted to writing for television where the audience and the work are more regular, leaving their theatrical careers as a hobby. (124)

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In addition, theater during the 1960s and 1970s was considered to be a “critical force against a repressive government” (Milleret 126). Now that the military regime is out of power, audiences do not see a need for strictly serious theater with a social message. Instead, they are more interested in entertainment. Milleret elucidates that While earlier works were aimed at developing a language, characters, and a conflict that would incarnate the unspoken wrongs of the dictatorship, more recent theatre has abandoned these constraints. Freedom from censorship, repression and even economic collapse seems to have unleashed the creative liberty of directors to respond to something other than external forces. (127)

Though Brazil is certainly not free from socioeconomic problems such as the most recent finacial crisis (2002), unequal land distribution, and violence toward the poor, the relative lack of political restraints on artistic expression has made the covert use of history as seen in the dramas analyzed in this study less necessary.

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Notes

INTRODUCTION

1.

According to Aston and Savona, stage directions are essential to the analysis of the dramas because they frame the dialogue in two senses: literally, in the layout of the page, and theatrically, in that they impart to the printed text the status of a blueprint for theatrical production. The production team is offered a series of indications of the dramatist’s theatrical intentions. The reader is offered the opportunity to read performance action from the text, and so to stage the play in a theatre of her/his imagination. (Aston and Savona 73)

2.

White also views the structure of the narrative chosen by the historian and how it ultimately affects the way in which her/his ideology is expressed: [H]istorians interpret their materials in two ways: by the choice of a plot structure, which gives to their narratives a recognizable form, and by the choice of a paradigm of explanation, which gives to their arguments a specific shape, thrust, and mode of articulation. It is sometimes suggested that both of these choices are products of a third, more basic, interpretive decision: a moral or ideological decision. (White, Tropics 67) In writing history, the historian must choose how to structure the plot of his or her narrative. There are several types of plot structures that s/he may use including Romance, Tragedy, Comedy, and Satire. These narrative structures, which White has adapted from Northrop Frye’s Anatomy of Criticism (Princeton: Princeton UP, 1957), help frame the respective history (White, Metahistory 7).

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3.

The idea of using printed material to reinforce the concept of nationhood is examined in Imagined Communities by Benedict Anderson. Anderson theorizes that nationbuilding is linked to what he terms “print capitalism” in the form of newspapers and novels (Anderson 43). History textbooks printed by a government also inculcate a national identity.

4.

The history of Calabar: o elogio da traição is long. Initially approved for a performance, it was cancelled by the authorities days before its opening, causing great financial and emotional loss to all involved. The text and music later appeared in print though the album cover was blank white.

5.

Lindenberger clarifies that “Except for Shakespeare’s histories, scarcely any national plays have been able to acclimate themselves abroad” (Lindenberger 7).

6.

Another institution based upon racial and religious intolerance and frequently represented in drama is the Holocaust. In The Theatre of the Holocaust: Four Plays and The Darkness We Carry: The Drama of the Holocaust, Robert Skloot describes how playwrights have attempted to portray the horrors of the Holocaust. The Lusophone plays studied in this dissertation cannot be compared to Holocaust dramas because, as Skloot argues, out of respect for the victims of the Holocaust and the enormity of the crime no comparison should be made between it and other instances of oppression (The Theatre of the Holocaust, 15). Lusophone historical dramas about the Inquisition, colonialism and slavery also differ from those studied by Skloot in that they are distanced by time. Whereas there are still survivors of concentration camps who witnessed the Holocaust massacres, there are no living witnesses to the periods treated in the dramas analyzed in this dissertation; the playwrights are therefore at greater liberty to portray the events as a metaphor for their current situation.

7.

While Brazil became independent in 1822, many of the remaining Portuguese colonies such as Angola were granted Independence only after the Revolution of 1974 which overthrew the Salazar regime in Portugal. Macau, on the coast of China, reverted to Chinese governance late in 1999.

8.

The printing press was brought to Brazil with the arrival of the Portuguese Court in 1808. A university was not established in Angola until the 1960s.

9.

The Theatre and its Double is a collection of essays by Antonin Artaud, the theatrical director who developed the Theatre of Cruelty. The characteristics of this type of theater are “violence, sexuality, and the eruption of dramatic violence outside of the safe confines of the stage” (Bradby 39). CHAPTER ONE: LUSOPHONE HISTORICAL DRAMA FROM THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY THROUGH THE TWENTIETH

1.

The Persians by Aeschylus and Octavia by Seneca are regarded as the first historical dramas. Phrynichus, a Greek playwright of the 6th century B.C., wrote The Capture of Miletus and Phoenician Women. According to Hübner, “Phyrnichus was fined ‘for having reminded the citizens of their own misfortune’ and his tragedy was banned from any future stagings” (7). After the third century “the tragedians occasionally wrote plays on subjects from Roman his-

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tory, whether legendary or recent” (Brown 936). 2.

This was true for modern Greece under dictatorship (1967–1974). Whereas Greek dramas such as Antigone were considered subversive and were censored, South American plays which were clearly political were ironically performed (Bein, interview).

3.

In Great Britain as well specific places to stage plays were built and theatrical companies established to present performances. The first “purpose-built” theater in London was named the Red Lion and was built by John Brayne in 1567. The Theater was built by his brother-in-law, James Burbage, in 1576. In England there were strong ties between the aristocracy and the theater companies as it was illegal to perform without the patronage of an aristocrat. The “Act for the Punishment of Vagabonds” of 1572 made roaming theatrical activity a crime (Worthen 191). Examples of theater companies with “patents” or patronage by aristocrats are the Lord Chamberlain’s Men (which included Shakespeare) and the Lord Admiral’s Men (who produced Marlowe’s work and others). There were two types of theaters in England: public theaters that were often quite large— outdoor venues holding up to 3,000 people—and private theaters which were smaller and indoors (Worthen 192)

4.

The first corrales date back to 1579 Madrid (Zatlin 1016).

5.

Aside from being extremely fruitful professionally as a playwright, Lope de Vega was married three times and had numerous children inside and outside wedlock (Wilson and Moir 44).

6.

Pedro, the Duque de Viseu depicted in this play, was the brother of Manuel I and Leonor de Lancáster. He was excecuted in 1483.

7.

Lope de Vega was known to have consulted the chronicles of the three Military Orders of Santiago, Calatrava, and Alcántara to write the play (Wilson and Moir 61).

8.

“Consequences of this murder were a brief civil war and (of much greater importance), the rise of a historical drama, which has enraptured chroniclers, fiction writers, and poets for more than five centuries” (Marques, I 123).

9.

The Neoclassical period was ushered in around mid-century with the Arcadian groups of writers who sought to emulate Greek and Roman forms and themes. The Arcádia Lusitana dates from 1756; the Nova Arcádia began in 1790.

10. “At its narrowest, the Romantic period in Britain is usually taken to run between 1798, the year in which Coleridge and Wordsworth published the first edition of Lyrical Ballads, and 1832, when Sir Walter Scott and Goethe died and the Reform Bill was passed” (Cuddon 817). 11. Portugal and Great Britain competed over a stretch of land in Southern Africa that linked the Indian and Atlantic Oceans. Portugal claimed it but backed off when Great Britain issued an Ultimatum and threatened to invade Lisbon in 1890. 12. After the April 25, 1974, Revolution in Portugal, a collection of one-act plays about life during the Salazar period appeared. Entitled Dramaturgia de Abril: 8 peças em 1 acto (Playwriting in April: 8 Plays in 1 Act), the book included

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works by Bernardo Santareno, Carlos Coutinho, Hélder Costa, Jaime Salazar Sampaio, José Gomes Ferreira, Luiz Francisco Rebello, Mário de Carvalho, and Virgílio Martinho. Another drama on Salazar is Salazar: Deus, Pátria, Maria (1997) (Salazar: God, Country, Maria), by Maria do Céu Ricardo. It is about Salazar’s maid and her relationship with the dictator. 13. “The Brazilian auto structure has its origins in the European liturgical theatre, including such works as Visitatio Sepulchri, Officicum Pastorum, Officium Stellae, and early renaissance works of religious content” (Quackenbush 29). Autos were also used by the Franciscans to instruct Native populations in Spanish Latin America (Versényi 34). 14. Leonor de Mendonça was presented by the TBC in 1954. 15. “The first writer of comédias of this type is considered to be Martins Pena (1815–1848)” (George 2). 16. According to Galante de Sousa, “Os nossos modernistas desconheceram, praticamente, a existência do teatro” (Galante de Sousa 243). 17. Nelson Rodrigues wrote three dramatic “cycles”: tragédias cariocas (Vestido de Noiva, Álbum de Família, Anjo Negro, Senhora dos Afogados), tragédias de costumes (A Falecida, Boca de Ouro, Beijo no Asfalto, Perdoa-me por me traíres), divinas comédias (Os Sete Gatinhos) and farsas irresponsáveis (Dorotéia, Viúva porém Honesta) (Prado 52–53). 18. The TBC put on plays by Rodrigues and others such as Silveira Sampaio (1914–1964)—Trilogia do Herói Grotesco (A Inconveniência de Ser Esposa) (1948); Da Necessidade de Ser Polígamo and A Garçonnière (1949)—and Abílio Pereira de Almeida (1906–1972)—Moral em Concordata (1956) and Rua São Luís, 27, 8 Andar (1957). 19. The ten plays in Andrade’s collection are: As confrarias, Pedreira das almas, A moratória, O telescópio, Vereda da salvação, Senhora na bôca do lixo, A escada, Os ossos do barão, Rasto atrás, and O sumidouro. CHAPTER TWO: INTOLERANCE ON TRIAL IN O SANTO INQUÉRITO AND O JUDEU

1.

There were organizations committed to armed struggle against the Brazilian dictatorship such as the ALN (National Action for Liberation) and the MR-8 (8th of October Revolutionary Movement). These groups collaborated in the kidnapping of the U.S. Ambassador to Brazil, Charles Elbrick, in September of 1969.

2.

See Disappearing Acts: Spectacles of Gender and Nationalism in Argentina’s Dirty War by Diana Taylor for more information on how the Argentine military depicted women as terrorists and subversives.

3.

Imprisonment, torture and disappearances occurred frequently in Uruguay, Argentina and Chile as well.

4.

See From Stereotype to Metaphor: How Jews Have Been Transformed in Contemporary Drama by Scheff for more information on the “othering” of Jews.

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5.

In The Theatre of the Holocaust Robert Skloot maintains that the Holocaust was a unique event and should not be used as a metaphor or analogy for other historical episodes (p.15).

6.

“The name is derived from the Latin verb inquiro (‘inquire into’), which emphasizes the fact that the inquisitors did not wait for complaints but sought out heretics and other offenders” (“Inquisition” 328). Though the Inquisition is primarily associated with Spain and Portugal, it also existed in Italy and the Netherlands, where it was set up as part of the Counter-Reformation (along with the creation of the Society of Jesus, i.e. the Jesuit Order, and the beginnings of Baroque Art). In 1522 Emperor Charles V brought the Inquisition to the Netherlands but was unsuccessful in stopping the spread of Protestantism. In 1542 Pope Paul III established the Roman Inquisition, which was more successful.

7.

During the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries the Inquisition was most active in the Brazilian Northeast, particularly Bahia and Pernambuco. Later, during the eighteenth century, it grew more concentrated in the Southeastern part of Brazil, especially in Rio de Janeiro.

8.

According to the Portuguese historian Oliveira Marques, the Inquisition was abolished by the liberal governments after 1820: The cortes [courts] started by abolishing the Inquisition. This abolition of a centuries-old body with such a tremendous impact on history had undoubtedly a symbolic meaning but very few practical consequences, because the Inquisition had been slowly fading away for years. (Vol. I, 21)

9.

The Mexican playwright Sabina Berger wrote a play about the Inquisition’s persecution of the Carbajal family in Herejía (1983). Another Portuguese play which features the Inquisition is António Vieira (1973) by Fernando Luso Soares. This play examines the persecution of the Jesuit priest, António Vieira, for his support of Jews in seventeenth-century Bahia. Brazilian playwright Augusto Boal wrote Torquemada (1972) about the Spanish Inquisitor.

10. Francisco Xavier de Oliveira, the Cavaleiro de Oliveira (1702–1783), was a Portuguese refugee who fled to London in the eighteenth century. He was one of many Portuguese thinkers who “lived abroad or had traveled extensively in Europe (and) were instrumental in defining the many faults and preparing the total revision of the Portuguese system” (Oliveira Marques I, 408). In O Judeu the Cavaleiro de Oliveira serves as a narrator much like a Greek chorus, moving in and out of the drama and commenting on the action. 11. Anita Novinsky, personal interview, 14 June 1997. 12. The story of Branca Dias is well known throughout Brazil, especially in the Northeast, and even takes on a number of variations regarding her beauty or the exact way in which she died. In one area some think that “Branca foi queimada, como Joana d’Arc” (Dias Gomes 16). 13. Lourença Coutinho’s adherence to Judaism throughout the drama illustrates the

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importance of women in keeping Jewish practices alive during Inquisitional times. Women were central to the transmission of Judaism within converso or second generation New Christian communities because it was only in the confines of the home that religious rites such as lighting candles could take place. 14. Though the objective of the conversion was to integrate the New Christians into Portuguese society, the experiment failed when they were not welcomed by their Old Christian neighbors. The Portuguese historian Oliveira Martins explains that [T]he New Christians formed, in the main, a middle class of merchants and capitalists, with a significant role in the Portuguese and European economies. As such, they were not well accepted by the small “Old Christian” Portuguese bourgeoisie, jealous of their predominance, or by the feudal nobility, also interested in trade activities. (288) The Portuguese who were not descendants of Jews were envious of the perceived wealth possessed by the New Christians. Though the conversos may have had more education and experience in professions that earned more money, their neighbors focused only on the differences between them. Because of this economic rivalry, “[T]he majority of the country harassed the New- Christians and welcomed any means of weakening them” (Oliveira Martins 288). Another reason why the Old Christians did not accept the New Christians was pure antiSemitism. Saraiva contends that the hatred towards the New Christians was a continuation or transference of the anti-Semitism directed towards the Jews in general (Saraiva 40). Indeed, a number of massacres or pogroms even occurred after the conversions as the New Christians tried to fit into Portuguese society. 15. Arthur Miller sees a link between sexuality and politics. In The Crucible he finds that “[B]elow its concern with justice the play evokes a lethal brew of illicit sexuality, fear of the supernatural, and political manipulation, a combination not unfamiliar these days” (164). 16. Two types of instruments were commonly used for torture during the Inquisition: the polé, or “pulley” (“uma corda na qual o preso era içado e sacudido violentamente”) and the potro (“espécie de banca ou leito de ripas, em que o paciente era entalado com cordas accionadas por manivela”). The polé was used when the defendant was at risk of dying on the potro. Women were always tortured on the polé because “muito (que) se deve atender por sua honestidade” (Saraiva 65). You could listen to a lot for their honesty. It was also easier to break or deslocate limbs on the polé. It was after these sessions that other family members were frequently arrested. “Uma só testemunha bastava, segundo o mesmo parágrafo, se o denunciante era o cônjuge ou um parente em primeiro grau” (Saraiva 61). According to the same paragraph, one witness was enough, if the denounced person were a spouse or first degree relative. 17. Sadly, this torture method was used by the Brazilian military in the twentieth century. In Torture in Brazil Luís Medeiros de Oliveira, an engineering student, and Elenaldo Celso Teixeira, a lawyer, describe how the torturers tied ropes

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around their ankles, “threw the ropes over a beam between two and three meters above the floor, and hung us by our ankles” (180–181). 18. According to Lindenberger, “The martyr play, whether about a saint, a monarch, or simply some exemplary individual, can never completely escape being an imitation of Christ” (45). CHAPTER THREE: BREAKING THE BONDS: SLAVERY AND REBELLION IN ARENA CONTA ZUMBI

, A REVOLTA DA CASA DOS ÍDOLOS,

AND ANA, ZÉ E OS ESCRAVOS

1.

Maroon colonies were composed of runaway slaves and existed in the hinterland of slave-owning societies. Though some existed in the United States, there are more documents of such communities in the Caribbean and South America, especially Brazil. Palmares is the most famous of the Brazilian maroon colonies because of its duration and ability to withstand military onslaughts against it.

2.

For more information on North African slavery see Willis.

3.

According to Mattoso, approximately 9,500,000 Africans were taken from the continent between 1502 and 1860 (Mattoso 10).

4.

The Brazilian slave trade reflects the economic booms and busts in Brazilian history. The first economic boom was that of the highly profitable sugar plantations in Northeastern Brazil in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. Brazil lost its monopoly on the sugar market as the English, French and especially the Dutch entered the competition. After gold was discovered in Minas Gerais in the late seventeenth-century, approximately one million slaves were imported to that region of Brazil (Mattoso 41).

5.

According to Mary Kemp Davis in her study of slave revolts in American fiction, sexual aggression was one of the most alarming concerns of whites in antebellum America, though few if any actual rapes recorded during documented slave revolts prove that this fear was unfounded (Davis 3).

6.

The Passover Seder is an example of how a slave revolt story of the past is retold in dramatic fashion. Every year Jews relate the episode of how their ancestors, under the leadership of Moses and with the help of God, fled the land of Egypt. Through this ordered meal with its symbolic foods and rituals, the participants are made to feel as if they themselves had gone from slavery to freedom. In every generation it is a man’s duty to regard himself as though he went forth out of Egypt, as it is said: And thou shalt tell thy son in that day, saying: It is because of that which the Lord did for me when I came forth out of Egypt. Not our fathers only did the Holy One, Blessed be He, redeem then, but us too He redeemed with them, as it is said: And He brought us out from thence, that He might bring us in, to give us the land which He swore unto our fathers. (Nachman 23) The Passover Seder personifies the Exodus story, bridging generations of Jews. This illustrates that slave revolts are generally dramatized by those groups

196


that were once enslaved. The reenacted tale helps link members of a community together, much like a common language and other markers of identity. The experience of oppression and the struggle against it unifies nations by offering a lesson of hope: that self-determination awaits those who bind together. 7.

The portrayal of the “Amistad incident” as historical drama has been the subject of much controversy. First, there is a $10 million lawsuit against the filmmakers by Barbara Chase-Riboud, an author who accuses them of plagiarizing her rendition of the Amistad case in Echo of Lions (1989) (Smith and Samuels 60). Second, some members of the African-American community resent the fact that a white film director made the movie. “We have to be in control of our own stories—just like our destinies,” explains Haki Madubuti, the owner of the Third World Press publishing house (Ansen and Samuels 65). Third, criticism has been leveled at the film version for the inclusion of fictional characters alongside those who actually existed.

8.

Other early participants of Teatro de Arena include José Renato and Oduvaldo Vianna Filho.

9.

Brechtian techniques such as the alienation effect, in which the audience is forced to think about and transfer actions that are taking place onstage, were adopted and adapted to the Brazilian stage.

10. Before Teatro de Arena, theater was reserved primarily for the upper classes in modern Brazil. 11. Other plays include Arena conta Tiradentes (1967), which deals with the Inconfidência Mineira of 1789. 12. Boal and Guarnieri were not the first to use historical revisionism. “Zumbi em alguma medida é também expressão do movimento intelectual de revisão da história do país, ocorrido em sintonia com o ascenso das lutas populares desde os anos 50” (Costa 112–113) (Zumbi is also to some extent the expression of an intellectual movement of revision of national history, occurring alongside the growth of popular struggles since the 1950s). During the Kubitschek years in the 1950s a growing sense of nationalism and class-consciousness spurred a reinterpretation of Brazilian history. 13. In “Race and Class in Brazil: Historical Perspectives” Thomas E. Skidmore describes how the Brazilian elite promoted the notion of a “racial democracy” in Brazil (pp. 12–14). Carlos A. Hasenbalg provides evidence of how those of color are economically and socially disadvantaged in “Race and Socioeconomic Inequalities in Brazil” (pp. 28–38). 14. According to the report on torture prepared by the Archdiocese of São Paulo, “The Church hierarchy was engaged in the anti-Communist crusade backed by the conservative elite” and “played a fundamental role in the creation of a favorable ideological climate for military intervention” (Archdiocese 124). It was only after 1968 and in light of more serious crackdowns that Church support of the military waned (Archdiocese 124). 15. During the period preceding the military coup, there was an increased growth in labor unions. Many strikes occurred between 1963 and 1964 for increased

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salary and better working conditions. Upon its takeover, the military targeted unions under the auspices of the Brazilian Communist Party and the General Strike Command (Archdiocese 107). 16. Rural groups such as the Peasant Leagues championed “agrarian reform by law or by force” and encouraged land takeovers. After the coup, these groups, which had previously numbered over two thousand, were targeted by the military and repressed (Archdiocese 108). 17. The Maria da Fonte Revolution, named after a leading female participant, took place during 1846 and 1847 and teamed “several contradictory forces, encompassing old absolutists and partisans of Miguel, leftist radicals, moderates, and even right-wing Chartists” against the despotic rule of Costa Cabral (Marques, II 66–67). 18. During the Salazar period, Angola and the other Portuguese colonies in Africa and Asia served as “safety valves” for a poor, uneducated population. 19. In historical documents the real village of Palmares was not egalitarian, but rather a monarchy based on traditional African societies. 20 “Many think ‘To Those Born Later’ was written in the 1940s, after the war started, but in fact it was written ca. 1930, long before the Nazis had taken power” (Silberman). 21 Many studies on Arena conta Zumbi focus exclusively on the political critique of the military dictatorship offered by the playwrights. This study, on the other hand, has highlighted the economic dimension brought up by Boal and Guarnieri in the drama. Among the key points made by other scholars is that the destruction of Palmares is an allegory for the 1964 coup that toppled the Goulart regime in Brazil. In this interpretation the inhabitants of Palmares, the Palmarinos, represent the Brazilian Left which was decimated by the military. In Zumbi, Tiradentes e outras histórias contadas pelo Teatro de Arena de São Paulo, Cláudia de Arruda Campos views the allusions to events and participants of the coup as proof that the play is primarily a commentary on this event: A inserção de diversas referências ao presente relembra constantemente a que época se devem ajustar as lições extraídas do evento narrado: o episódio de Palmares será a metáfora dos acontecimentos de 1964. Pretende-se analisar o golpe de abril, a derrota das forças populares, expondo suas causas de modo a substituir uma atitude de resistência. (74) [The insertion of various references to the present constantly reminds one of the moral lessons learned during this period. The Palmares episode will be a metaphor for what took place in 1964. There is an attempt to analyze the coup d’etat of April and the defeat of the popular forces, exposing their causes so as to instill an attitude of resistance.] Campos finds many references in the play to the contemporary era. She cites examples such as the attempt to influence public opinion against “o perigo

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negro (entende-se ‘vermelho’) “black danger (read: red) peril” and the negative characterization of the Church. “Papel dos mais negativos é reservado à Igreja, à religião, cujo respaldo fora uma das mais caras armas da direita em 64” (75). (The most negative role is reserved for the Church, for religion, whose smoothing of the way was one of the most important weapons for the right in ’64.) The characters who are the most negative are reserved by the Church, by religion , whose respaldo was one of the dear weopons of the ’64 right. 22. The reference to bringing civilization to the tropics is reflective of lusotropicalism, a notion developed by Brazilian sociologist Gilberto Freyre and embraced by many twentieth-century Portuguese colonialists, though currently under attack in Brazil. The theory attributes the propensity of the Portuguese for successfully colonizing (with the “help” of the natives) tropical regions to their unique Western (Lusitanian) Iberian heritage. CHAPTER FOUR: COLONIALISM AND TREACHERY IN FELIZMENTE HÁ LUAR! AND CALABAR: O ELOGIO DA TRAIÇÃO

1.

Pedro Alves Cabral “discovered” Brazil in 1500.

2.

Felizmente há luar! was staged at the Teatro Nacional in Lisbon on September 29th.

3.

In accordance with the Methuen Treaty of 1703 Great Britain agreed to purchase Portuguese wines in exchange for the Portuguese purchase of British textiles. This initiated an economic, and later political, dependency on Great Britain that lasted until the nineteenth century.

4.

Under Salazar, Portugal was closer to the Church than in earlier periods of history, including the Middle Ages, though legally there was a separation between Church and State in Portugal. The 1940 Concordat with the Vatican reversed centuries-old laws of State autonomy and gave special privileges and legal concessions to the Roman Catholic Church throughout Portugal’s sphere of influence.

5.

Salazar was known for his lack of consultation with others and “never trusted the judgment of his entourage even in essentially minor matters” (Gallagher 133).

6.

According to Van der Waal, “Government action against all opposition thwarted the formation of even moderately critical organizations. This led to a situation in which the Communist Party, though small and unrepresentative, exerted an influence totally out of proportion to its numbers. The result was that Salazar saw any form of opposition as a communist plot, or an opening for the communists to exploit the situation, and thus as a threat to the security of the state” (Van Der Waal 33–34).

7.

This desire by the Portuguese to colonize Brazil and regard it as part of Portugal also has resonance for the co-author of the play, Ruy Guerra. Born in Mozambique, this playwright and movie director had firsthand experience in living under Portuguese colonial rule.

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8.

There is much debate as to how the Estado Novo should be classified. Some argue that because the regime was in power for so long (May 28, 1926 until April 25, 1974) and suffered no civil war or acts of armed resistance, the Portuguese people supported it (Raby 2).

9.

During the many years in which the Estado Novo was in power, there were numerous opposition groups in Portugal. Before WWII, the Communist Party, the Democratic Party and the Socialist Union were in the forefront of criticizing the regime. During WWII the Movimento de Unidade Nacional AntiFascista (MUNAF) and the Grupos Anti-fascistas de Combate (GAC’s) were founded followed by the Movimento de Unidade Democrática (MUD). After the war, the PCP (Portuguese Communist Party) unified the opposition movement. For more information on opposition groups in Portugal, see Raby. There were many people and groups involved in the independence efforts for the colonies of Portugal, both in the colonies themselves and in Portugal, including the PAIGC for the liberation of Cape Verde and Guinea Bissau, MPLA and others in Angola, and FRELIMO in Mozambique.

10. The distrust of estrangeirados is prevalent in Portuguese history. See Chapter II on the Inquisition. 11. The Masons (a shortened version of Freemasons) are the largest worldwide secret fraternal organization, developed from the builders of cathedrals during the Middle Ages. 12. See Chapter II on Padres Pregadores. 13. According to Raby, “isolation, disunity and the conservative influence of the Catholic Church ensured that protests by peasant small-holders would remain sporadic and localized” (123–124). 14. Bárbara’s character is similar to that of a prostitute named Jenny in Brecht’s Three Penny Opera (1928) and another in Chico Buarque de Hollanda’s A Ópera do Malandro (1978). In both of these plays the prostitute sleeps with two men. 15. Upon the failure of a law to prohibit married women from working, Salazar is quoted as saying, “Convinced as I am that a wife who has in mind the care of her home cannot do good work outside, I shall always fight against the independence of married women” (Gallagher 100). Even after the 1974 Revolution, Virginia Ferreira writes, “Portuguese women confront a misogynist barrier much stronger than the one found in more advanced countries: the assumption of their inferiority. The institutional-juridical order that governed women’s lives until the 1970s defended that assumption, and was based upon it” (163). 16. Caroline Miller explains that, “Of all our senses smell is the most directly linked to memory because it is located in the brain’s limbic system, where scent perceptions are recorded and emotions are stored. Even more importantly, smells don’t require verbal decoding for the memories to be retrieved so they are especially accessible to us” (205).

i


i

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i

i

Index

—A— A Castro, 19, 20 A Conspiradora, 25 A corda, 42 A estátua, 25 A geração da utopia, 42, 43 A guerra santa, 25 A Moratória, 35 A moreninha, 32 A Morta, 24 A outra morte de Inês, 26 A Play of Giants, 45 A relíquia, 26 A Revolta da Casa dos Ídolos, 1, 6, 7, 8, 43, 45, 100, 101, 103, 178, 183 capitalism and, 117, 122 Church and, 107, 110, 112, 114 conspiracies in, 181 martyr figures in, 180 mythical elements in, 45 slavery in, 13, 89 utopias in, 126–31 Abrantes, J. M., 1, 14, 42, 43, 45, 89, 98, 100, 101, 106, 107, 116, 126, 133, 134, 178

class division and, 124, 125 oral history and, 105 utopias and, 129 Aeschylus, 15 Afonso de Albuquerque, 22, 24 Afonso VI, 24 Afronta por Afronta, 23 Agostinho de Cueto, 23 Alarcón, R. de, 18 Albuquerque, S., 12, 13, 27, 29, 30, 32, 35, 70, 145, 172, 174 Alcácer Quibir, 24 Alencar, J. M., 31, 162 Alguns aspectos da administraçã de Angola em época de reformas, 105 Aljubarrota, 25 Allen, J., 152 Almada-Negreiros, J., 25 Almeida, F. J., 29 Alves, V. M., 25 Amistad, 96, 97 Ana, Zé e os escravos, 1, 5, 7, 43, 100, 101, 104, 125, 133, 178, 183 capitalism and, 117 Church and, 107, 116

212


class division in, 124 colonialism and, 132 mythical elements in, 46 slavery and, 14, 89 tyrant figures in, 181 utopias in, 126 Anchieta, J., 28 Anderson, R., 102, 128 Andorra, 40 Andrade, G., 32 Andrade, J., 35, 41 Andrade, O., 33 Anfitrião ou Júpiter e Alcema, 21, 59 Angola civil war in, 12 Marxist government of, 4 national identity in, 10 Angolan historical drama, 42–46 Ansen, D., 97 Antônio José, ou o poeta e a Inquisição Antônio Vieira, 26 aparelhos, 172 Arena conta Zumbi, 1, 5, 7, 14, 39, 98, 99, 100, 101, 102, 103, 133, 178 capitalism and, 117, 118, 119, 121, 122, 182 Church and, 107 slavery in, 13, 89 tyrant figures in, 181 utopias in, 126 Arena conta Tiradentes, 39 Arinos, A., 32 Arnaud, A., 11, 12 As aventuras de Ngunga, 42 As Espumas Flutuantes, 30 As Irmãs, 22 As mãos de Abraão Zacut, 25, 48 Assis Júnior, A., 105 Auto da Barca do motor for a de borda, 25 auto-da-fé, 60, 77–84, 86, 159, 180 Auto de Santo Iago, 28

Auto representado na Festa de São Lourenço, 28 —B— Badian, S., 45 Banham, M., 97 Baraka, A., 95, 96 Bartolomeu de Gusmão, 32 Beatriz Cenci, 30 Becket, 22 Benjamin, W., 8 Benito Cereno, 95 Beresford, W., 136, 140 Berlin Dada group, 36 Bermúdez, J., 19 Black Thunder, 95 Boabdil, 30 Boal, A., 1, 14, 35, 36, 38, 39, 89, 98, 99, 101, 117, 118, 131, 133, 178 Bocage, alma sem mundo, 26 Boehmer, E., 136 bombardive, 13 Bontemp, A., 95 Bosi, Alfredo, 30 Branco, C. C., 23 Brasil: Nunca mais, 60 Brazil dictatorships in, 2, 12 Dutch colonialism in, 147–52 military regimes in, 137 and Roman Catholicism, 28 Brazilian historical drama, 27–36 Brazilian Modernist movement, 33 Bread and Bullet, 44 Brecht, B., 2, 25, 26, 36–42, 52, 98, 99, 103, 127, 128 influence on Brazilian theater, 38–39 influence in Portugal, 27 Brecht no Brasil: Experiências e Influências, 40 Buarque, C., 42 Burgain, L. A., 31

Index —C— Cacciaglia, M., 30, 32 Cafezeiro, E., 29 Calabar, 32 Calabar: o elogio da traição, 1, 5, 7, 8, 32, 41, 137, 138, 139, 146, 147, 151, 154, 172 capitalism and, 182 colonialism in, 14, 135, 174 conspiracies in, 159, 164 martyr in, 171, 180 music and song in, 144 nationalism and, 175 self-interest and treason in, 150, 179 violence in, 144 Calerón de la Barca, P., 18 Câmara, D. J., 24 Camelo, J. A., 84, 85 Cantador, 133 capitalism, 117, 118, 119, 121, 122, 131, 182 Carpentier, A., 97 Castelo, C., 105 Castro, I., 27 Castro Alves, A. F., 30, 31 Castro Lopo, J., 105 Caucasian Chalk Circle, The, 52 Celso, J., 40 Césaire, A., 45, 97 Chianca, R., 25 Christophe, H., 97 Cinema Novo, 41 Colleran, J., 3 colonialism, 10, 11, 14, 131, 132, 135, 174 comedia, 16, 28 Comedia de la muerte del rey don Sancho y el reto de Zamora, 17 Confessions of Nat Turner, The, 95 Conservatório Dramático, 32 Conspiradora, 25 conspiracy drama, 6 cordel theatre, 20

213

corrales, 16 Correa, V., 33 Cortesão, J., 25 Costa, H., 105, 124 Costa, I. C., 119 Counsell, C., 36, 37 Coutinho, L., 59 Cowley, M., 92 Crónica aventurosa de Esperançoso Fagundes, 25 Crucible, The, 52, 53 Cudden, J. A., 22 Cueva, J. de la, 17, 18 Cultural Space and Theatrical Conventions in the Works of Oduvaldo Vianninha Filho (Damasceno), 2 —D— D. Maria de Lencastre, 23 D. Sancho II, 23 D. Sisnando, 23 Dadié, B. B., 45, 107 Damasceno, L. H., 3, 98 Damiel, M. L., 130 Dantas, J., 24 Dassin, J., 70 Davis, M. K., 95 Dias, B., 47, 59, 60, 63, 65, 75, 83 Diegues, C., 41 Douglass, F., 95 Drama in Performance (Williams), 2 Dr. Getúlio, sua vida e sua glória, 41 Drums at Dusk, 95 Dunton, C., 44 —E— El Duque de Viseo, 17 El reino de este mundo, 97 Elam, Jr., H. J., 96 Eles não usam black-tie, 98 Epic theatre, 36, 37 Esopaida, 21, 56

214


Esslin, M., 38 Estado Nova (Portugal), 25, 28, 137, 167 estrangeirados, 182 Expressionist drama, 36 —F— False Witness, The, 54 farsas, 20 Feingold, B.-A., 50, 51 Felizmente há luar, 1, 7, 8, 136, 137, 138, 139, 142, 143, 156, 160, 172 colonialism in, 14, 135, 174 conspiracies in, 151, 159, 164 martyr in, 165, 171, 180 nationalism and, 175 poverty in, 182 self-interest and treason in, 150, 179 tyrant figures in, 181 Fernandes Calabar, D., 136 Fernandes Oliveira, M. A., 105 Fernando Vieira ou Pernambuco libertado, 31 Ferreira, A., 19, 20 Filho, O. V., 35, 39, 98 Fonseca, B., 26 Fornari, E., 34 Franco, F., 151 Fraser, J., 12, 69, 86 Frei Luís de Sousa, 23, 30 Freire, G., 27, 135, 136, 151, 156, 157, 158, 165, 166, 168 Freire, P., 39 Fuenteovejuna, 17 —G— Gabriel Prosser Conspiracy, 95 Gadelha, C., 29 Galileu Galilei, 40 Gallagher, T., 144 Ganga Zumba, 99

Garcia, A. L. A., 59 Garnsey, P., 90 Garrett, J. B., 22, 23, 30 George, D. 33, 34, 40 George Steiner’s Portage to San Christobal of A. H., 54 Gestus, 37, 38, 137, 140, 141 Gilman, S. L., 48 Glaser, E., 78 Glória e infortúnio ou a morte de Camões, 31 Gomes, A., 1, 13, 30, 40, 47, 55, 58, 59, 60, 67, 69, 70, 74, 83, 84, 87, 178 Gonzaga ou A Revolução de Minas, 30 Gota d’Água, 41 Gregory IX, Pope, 50 Grueser, J. C., 95 Grupo Xilenga, 100 Guarnieri, G., 1, 14, 35, 89, 98, 99, 101, 117, 118, 131, 178 Guerra, R., 1, 14, 41, 135, 137, 144, 147, 151, 154, 162, 172, 174, 180, 183 Guerras do Alecrim e da Manjerona, 21, 56, 59 Guevara, L. V. de, 19 Guimarães, F. P., 32 Gusmão, A. de, 20 —H— Haitian Revolution, 45, 95, 97 Halpern, C. L., 18 Hampton, C., 54 Harold, 22 Hartdegen, S, J., 154 Heroic Slave, The, 95 Herculano, A., 23 Hernani, 22 Herod, 8 Hill, E., 97 Hime, F., 42 Historical Drama: The Relation of

Index Literature and Reality (Lindenberger), 4 Historical Slave Revolt and the Literary Imagination, The (Davis), 95 Hollanda, C. B. de, 1, 14, 41, 135, 137, 144, 147, 151, 154, 162, 172, 174, 180, 183 Holocaust, 48, 49, 54, 56, 64 Hopkins, P., 95 Hübner, Z., 10 Hugo, V., 22 —I— Iaiá Boneca, 34 Iberian Union, 19 In Nomine Dei, 49 Ines, 22 Inherit the Wind, 52, 53 Inquisition, 10, 47, 49, 50–54, 57–69, 177, 178 torture and, 69–71 trial plays and, 54–56 Institutional Act 5, 98 Iracema, 31, 162 —J— João III, King, 50 Joaquina, D. A., 105 Johnson, M., 10 José do Telhado em África, 105 José do Telhado—romance histórico, 105 —K— Kakila, 42 Kerr, D., 44, 45, 129 Kopytoff, I., 91, 92 Krakow, R. M., 54 —L— La cisma de Inglaterra, 18 La Mort de Chaka, 45

215

La prudencia en la mujer, 18 Lacerda, F., 44 Lakoff, G, 10 Lapido, 44 Las paces de los reyes y la judía de Toleda, 17 Lavareda, J., 60 Lawrence, J., 52, 53 Leal, J., 23 Lee, H., 54 Lee, R. E., 52, 53 Lehrstücke, 38, 39, 103 Lemos, J., 23 Lendas e narrativas, 23 Leonor de Mendonça, 30 Leonor Teles, 24 Life of Galileo, 38, 52 Lindenberger, H., 4, 6, 7, 8, 9, 49, 51, 60, 83, 123, 179 Lobo, E., 133 Lope de Vega, F., 16, 18 Lueji, o nascimento dum império, 42 Lugre, 26 Luís de Camões, 31 Lusophone historical drama about slavery, 98–101 African, 43, 45 Church and, 107–17, 183 colonialism and, 135 definitions of, 1–6 dialogue in, 5 from the 16th to the 20th century, 15 Inquisition and, 51 religious intolerance in, 47–50 sociopolitical conditions and, 3 types of, 6–9 use of fictional characters in, 5 use of history in, 101–107 Lusophone playwrights dramatic violence and, 11

216

Metaphors of Oppression in Lusophone Historical Drama Leftist ideological stance of, 3 political conditions and, 2 —M—

Macbeth, 7 Macedo, M., 32 Mãe, 31 Magaldi, S., 40 Magalhães, D. J., 29, 30 Magalhães, R. Jr., 33 Mainwaring, S., 109, 110 manis, 122 Mannix, D. P., 92 Manua Puó, 42 Maria da Fonte Revolution, 124 Maria Pais Ribeira, 23 Marília de Itamaracá, 32 Marquesa de Santos, 33 Marta, a Árvore e o Relógio, 35 Martim de Frietas, 23 Martins, L., 26 Marques, A. H. de Oliviera, 136 martyr drama, 6, 7–8 Marx, K., 36 Masiye, A., 43, 44 Mattoso, K., 91, 93 Maurits, J., 136 Mayombe, 42 McCalmon, G., 5 McCarthy era, 52 McCormick, J., 22 McKendrick, M., 15, 16, 19 Mello Neto, J. C., 41 Melville, H., 95 Memórias do cárcere, 105 Mendonça, A. L., 23 Mendonça, H. L., 24 Menezes, A., 32 Mesquita, M., 24 Metaphors We Live By (Lakoff and Johnson), 10 Middle Passage, 92 Miers, S., 91, 92 Miller, A., 52, 53, 54

Mineira Conspiracy, 30, 34 Moe, C., 5 Moir, D., 16, 17, 18 Molière, J.-B., 20 Monsieur Thôgô-gnini, 45 Morte e Vida Severina, 41 Moses, G., 95, 96 Mother Courage and Her Children, 52 Muslim Uprising, 94 Mussolini, B., 151 —N— Na Vila de Vitória, 28 Naevius Gnaeus, 15 Nascimento, M., 41 negreiros, 91 Neto, A., 130 Nise lastimosa, 19 Nise Laureada, 19 Njinga, a rainha da união, 42 Nóbrega, M., 28 Nokan, C., 107 Noronha, E., 105 Nos mares do Fim do Mundo, 26 Novinsky, A., 50, 58, 60 —O— O Almansor Ben-Afar, 23 O barão, 25 O cão e os caluandas, 42 O contratador de diamantes, 32 O demônio familiar, 31 O desembarque de Pedro Álvares Cabral, 32 O desejo de Kianda, 42 O dia da Independência, 32 O Duque de Viseu, 24 A Fronteira de África, 23 O Guarani, 31 O Jesuíta, 31, 32 O Judeu, 1, 7, 8, 13, 20, 26, 39, 47, 55, 57, 58, 61, 63, 66, 68, 71, 72, 84, 85, 86, 87

Index auto-da-fé in, 79–80 autobiographical base in, 85 Church and, 183 Inquisition and, 178 martyrs and, 179 poverty in, 182 punishment in, 75, 76 tyrant figures in, 181 O Marquês de Torres Novas, 23 O Mosteiro de Sant’Iago, 31 O Pajem de Aljubarrota, 23 O pagador de promessas, 40 O primo da Califórnia, 32 O príncipe amante de liberdade ou a independência da Escócia, 29 O Regente, 24 O Rei da Vela, 33 O render dos heróis, 26 O Santo Inquérito, 1, 6, 8, 13, 40, 47, 56, 57, 58, 60, 61, 65, 66, 67, 69, 73, 84, 86 auto-da-fé in, 82–84 Church and, 183 Inquisition and, 178 punishment in, 75, 76 O segredo da morta, 105 O teatro angolano hoje, 42, 43 O Telescópio, 35 Oficina, 40 Ogunde, Chief H., 44 Ogunde Theatre, 44 Olga Delorges Company, 34 Olgiato, 30 Ópera do Malandro, 41 Os encantos de Medéia, 21 Os Inconfidentes, 32 Ósmia, a Lusitana, 22 other, 48 —P— Palmares, 99, 100, 101, 102, 109, 117, 119, 120, 121, 126, 127, 179 Papa Highirte, 39

217

Parábola do cágado velho, 42 Patkull, 30 Patterson, O., 97 Pecante, M. H., 84, 85 Pedagogy of the Oppressed, 39 Pedro, o Cruel, 24 Pepetela, 1, 14, 42, 45, 89, 98, 100, 101, 103, 104, 107, 110, 123, 124, 129, 131, 178 Peraltas e Sécias, 24 Pernambuco, 16 Perrone, C., 41, 146 Pessoa, F., 25 Pestana, A., 42 Phillips, Jr., W. D., 90, 93 Phrynichus, 15 Picasso, P., 36 Pimental, J. F., 23 Pires, J. C., 26 Ponte Preta, S., 150 Portugal dictatorships in, 2, 12 revolt in, 152–58 Portuguese historical drama, 19–27 Portuguese Modernism, 25 —Q— Quatro quadras de terra, 39 Queen Mary, 22 Queirós, E., 26 —R— Raby, D. L., 151 Rasga Coração, 39, 40 Real Teatro de São João, 29 Rebello, L. F., 20, 23, 24, 26, 85, 86 Rebelo, L., 19 Reed, L. A., 4 Reinar después de morir, 19 Reis, J. J., 94 Renato, J., 35 “reportive,” 70 Richard III, 7 Rocha, G., 41

218


Roda Viva, 41 Rodrigues, N., 34, 35 Romanticism, 22, 23, 27, 28 Rorrison, H., 52 Rosario, M., 60 Rosário Guedes, C. J., 29 —S— Sá, A. P., 60 Sá Carneiro, M., 25 Salazar, A., 25, 49, 84, 86, 151, 155, 177 Samuels, A., 96, 97 Santa Inquisição, 24 Santareno, B., 1, 13, 20, 25, 26, 47, 49, 55, 57, 63, 65, 69, 71, 84, 85, 86, 87, 181 Santos, J. C., 29 Santos, J. F., 99 Santos, N. P., 41 São Pedro Theater, 31 Saraiva, A. J., 60 Saramago, J., 48, 49 Schiller, F., 7 Scopes trial, 53 Se correr o bicho pega, se ficar o bicho come, 39 Seneca, 15 Sequeira, Luís Lopes ou o mulato dos prodígios, 43 Shakespeare, 7, 44, 150 Silva, A. J., 26, 27, 30, 32, 47, 55, 56, 59, 61, 63, 65, 68, 71, 75, 76, 85, 86, 116 Simoni, L. V., 32 Sinhá Moça Chorou, 34 Sistema Coringa, 38 Sixtus IV, Pope, 50 Skloot, R., 54 Slave Ship, 95, 96 slavery, 10, 11, 118, 177, 178 capitalism as a metaphor for, 117 dictatorships and, 131

in Africa and Brazil, 90–93 in American fiction, 95–98 revolts by, 94 Smith, V. E., 96, 97 Soares, F. L., 26 Sociedade Portuguesa de Escritores, 138 Socrates, 8 Southampton Slave Revolt, 95 Soyinka, W., 45 Spencer, J. S., 3 Spielberg, S., 96 Spikes, D., 115 Staging Resistance: Essays on Political Theater (Colleran and Spencer), 3 Strike and Hunger, 44 Sttau Monteiro, L. de, 1, 14, 25, 48, 49, 135, 137, 138, 140, 141, 142, 153, 154, 155, 156, 159, 166, 167, 179, 180 Styron, W., 95 Sussekind, F., 32 —T— Teatro Brasileiro de Comédia, 35 Teatro Constitucional Fluminense, 30 Teatro D. Maria/Casa de Garrett, 87 Teatro de Arena, 35, 36, 98, 99 Teatro Municipal, 35 Teatro Nacional, 24 Telhado, J., 105, 124 Téllez, F. G., 18 Tennyson, A. L., 22 Theater and its Double (Arnaud), 11 Theater and Politics (Hübner), 10 Theatre of the Oppressed, 99, 133 Threepenny Opera, The, 37 Tiger’s Empire, 44 Tiradentes, 34 Tirso de Molina, 18 To Kill a Mockingbird, 54 Todos os anos pela primavera, 25

Index Torquemada, T., 50 Torture in Brazil, 172 Tragedia de la muerte de Virginia y Appio Claudio, 17 Tragedia de los siete infantes de Lara, 17 Tragédia du Roi Christophe, 45, 97 trial drama, 6, 9, 54–56 tyrant drama, 6, 7 —U— Ubirajara, 31 Um Auto de Gil Vicente, 22 Um Bragança, 25 Uma rica dona de Luanda, 105 Universidade de Coimbra, 21, 26 Universidade de Lisboa, 43 —V— Valle, M., 42 Van Der Waals, W. S., 125, 142 Vargas, G., 28, 34 Verfremdung, 37 Vestido de Noiva, 34 Vicente, G., 28 Vida do Grande D. Quixote de La Mancha e do Gordo Sancho Pança, 21, 56, 68 Vila Viçosa, 25 violence, 11–12, 144 Violence and the Arts (Fraser), 12, 69 Violent Acts: A Study of Contemporary Latin American Theatre (Albuquerque), 12 Viriato Trágico, 24 —W— White, H., 3 Wilhelm Tell, 7 Willet, J., 36, 37, 38 Williams, R., 2 Williams, T., 35

Wilson, E. M., 16, 17, 18 Woodyard, G., 97 —Y— Yaka, 42 Yoruba Ronu, 44 —Z— Zampari, F., 35 Zatlin, P., 17 Zé do Telhado, 105, 124 Ziembinski, Z., 34

i

219

LATIN AMERICA Interdisciplinary Studies

Gladys M. Varona-Lacey

General Editor Latin America: Interdisciplinary Studies serves as a forum for scholars in the field of Latin American Studies, as well as an educational resource for anyone interested in this region of the world. Themes and topics encompass social, political, historical, and economic issues, in addition to literature, music, art, and architecture. For additional information about this series or for the submission of manuscripts, please contact: Dr. Gladys M. Varona-Lacey Ithaca College Department of Modern Languages & Literatures Ithaca, NY 14859 To order other books in this series, please contact our Customer Service Department at: (800) 770-LANG (within the U.S.) (212) 647-7706 (outside the U.S.) (212) 647-7707 FAX Or browse online by series at: WWW.PETERLANGUSA.COM

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