The Bandeirantes

If the object of drama were pure obscurity, Hugh Amory's The Bandeirantes could unquestionably be considered a modern masterpiece. The confusion in which the play wallows is due mostly to the language in which it was written. That language is English to be sure, but it is a political English filled with wild, though sometimes provocative images. I suppose the poet must have exercised some control over his imagery, and that he must have wanted to squeeze some concentrated extract of meaning out of his story when he decided to employ the type of speech he used. But his efforts were not notably apparent. A single hearing left me, at least, with an impression of trackless confusion far deeper than the Amazon jungle where part of the play takes place.

Since the characters remain incomprehensible, the incidents in which they are involved and upon which they comment necessarily fail to have much coherence. Briefly, the plot deals with a pair of Brazilian promoters who hatch a scheme to build a dam in the hinterlands of the upper Amazon. In order to show their prospective customers that some work is actually progressing, they send out an American engineer and a young college student to make a preliminary survey. But the plane in which the two are travelling crashes, and the student, after a delirious conversation with a Bahian sea goddess, finally dies. What all this means, and indeed whether the other survivers ever get out of the jungle, never becomes clear.

Considering their handicaps, the actors of the Poets' Theatre emerge, if not victorious, at least impressive performers. Most of them are very skilled in delivering their lines clearly and without resorting to declamation. Edward O'Callahan, as the engineer, turns in the best performance giving his role considerable power and intensity. John Peters is appropriately pompous as Banderia, the promoter, while Edith Owen plays Marcia, Bandeira's "friend," with an acute feeling for the quiet sadness which the role demands. Gregory Lafayette skillfully keeps the rather intense college student from becoming annoying. The production also gains much from the direction of Edward Thommen, who shows real talent in making the theater's tiny stage appear uncluttered.

But no amount of skill in acting and producing can make The Bandeirantes into good theater. The play, however, does raise the question of how much subtlety of expression and meaning a writer of poetic drama has to sacrifice for the sake of clarity. Plays, perhaps, more than any other form of literature, must be capable of raising and sustaining the interest and immediate involvement of the audience. If the language of a play is subtle to the point of obscurity, and if the action thereby appears unmotivated, then the audience will grow bored and the work will fail. It seems to me that Bandeirantes fails precisely because Amory has refused to make the essential sacrifice.