Writer 1879: Solitary Journey in France

Chapter 361 Maupassant's Good Place!
Lionel Sorel took twenty minutes to finish his explanation of stage lighting and set design.

He didn't use many fancy words, but rather explained the possibilities of light and shadow on the stage in a comprehensive way, like an engineer dissecting a blueprint.

He talked about how to use light sources of different angles and intensities to shape the psychology of characters, and how to use the rhythm of light and shadow to echo the ups and downs of the plot...

Finally, Lionel concluded: "...So, gentlemen, the electric light is not just a brighter lighting tool."

It completely transformed the stage from an 'illuminated space' into a 'space where light speaks'.

Light can be a monologue, a dialogue, an accusation, or a comfort.

It has attained a status of theatrical language that is as important as dialogue and acting.

He paused briefly, his gaze sweeping over each listener present, their faces reflecting shock and contemplation.

"To match this is a realistic stage set. The real 'La Verne Estate' in the Comédie-Française is not just for the sake of visual realism."

It provides an environment where actors can truly 'live' in it, imbuing every door opening, every staircase climb with a genuine power.

This sense of realism will greatly enhance the 'credibility' of the drama, making it easier for the audience to be drawn in, to breathe and share the fate of the characters.

He took a small step forward, his voice carrying a declarative force.

"Future screenwriters will no longer be just people who weave stories in their studies; we should also be stage designers and poets of light and shadow!"

These words were like the final piece of the puzzle, elevating all of Lionel's previous technical explanations to a whole new level.

For the playwrights present, how to write a story is never the problem; what troubles them is the limitations of stage technology in this era.

After the invention of electric lights, it wasn't that theaters or playwrights didn't want to introduce this new technology, just as the Paris Opera House once installed arc lamps.

However, any new technology requires a significant amount of experimental time and high sunk costs to develop from its inception to maturity.

After all, no one has ever seen what an "electrified stage" should look like.

But Lionel was surprisingly adept at using electric lights in the play from the very beginning, and was even willing to share his insights with them.

This saved everyone at least ten years of exploration time!
A brief silence fell over the room as everyone looked at Lionel with complex expressions.

Henrik Ibsen was the first to take action.

He slowly stood up, strode over to Lionel, opened his arms, and gave his young colleague a tight hug.

Immediately afterwards, Paul Heise also stood up, excitedly grasped Lionel's hand, and then gave him a hug as well.

He muttered to himself, "Speaking with light... How wonderful! This is the future of theater!"

Ostrovsky nodded emphatically, walked over, and patted Lionel's shoulder firmly with his broad hand, everything understood without words.

Strindberg practically rushed over and hugged Lionel, whispering something rapidly and excitedly in his ear in heavily accented French, his eyes shining.

Zola looked at Lionel, who was surrounded by several giants of European theater, and a genuine smile appeared on his face.

He clapped softly and whispered to Maupassant beside him, "Did you see that, Guy? He's not just writing plays!"

Maupassant thought of "The Café," and his excitement was equally overwhelming—he never imagined that he would become a part of this revolution.

He replied with emotion, “Emile, I see. This guy has tomorrow’s sun in his head.”

"Electric lights... I used to just think they were brighter and more convenient than gas lamps. But in his words, that light practically had life, a personality! That's amazing!"

……

As night deepened, the sounds of carriages outside the Villa Médan gradually faded into the distance, carrying the excited playwrights back to Paris.

The villa fell silent again, and the servants quietly tidied up the cups and saucers in the living room. Zola lit another cigar and leaned back in his comfortable armchair by the fireplace, seemingly still savoring his theory about light and drama.

Maupassant was the most restless; he paced around the room a few times before suddenly stopping in front of Lionel.

His tone was puzzled: "Leon, about how electric lights shape space, how they become part of theatrical language, and those set design tricks..."

Isn't this your most important secret? Why did you reveal it all so easily? Ibsen and the others are geniuses; they understand it instantly!
By telling them this, aren't you creating a formidable competitor for yourself? You could easily stay ahead of Europe for years with this technology!

Lionel picked up the half-empty glass of brandy on the table, swirled it gently, and then looked at Maupassant.

He said calmly, "Guy, stage technology is indeed one of the reasons for the success of 'Thunderstorm,' but it is not a 'secret' that needs to be guarded!"

Lionel took a sip of his drink and continued to explain: "First of all, this is not a simple technical trick; it's more of a concept, a new possibility."

Once an idea is presented, seen, and felt, it's like a seed falling into fertile soil; no one can stop it from sprouting.

Ibsen and Sterling were both geniuses; they would figure out the secret sooner or later—there might be differences in the details, but the direction would be correct.

Rather than letting it stagnate in isolation and conservatism, we should share it, stimulate more creativity, and propel the entire theatrical art forward.

This is far more meaningful than one person hoarding a so-called 'secret' and watching it slowly lose its value within a small circle.

He put down his glass and looked at Maupassant: "And, Guy, think about it, within a few years all the major theaters in Europe will be up to the standard to stage 'Thunderstorm'—"

In this way, my script can achieve the best performance results and the highest box office revenue, which is much more worthwhile than achieving success in only one theater.

The living room was quiet for a moment.

Maupassant opened his mouth, then his face lit up with sudden realization: "My God, Léon! I was thinking only about the script and the stage!"

You're like an Englishman in this respect, no, much smarter than them! The stage renovation is a business you're doing in collaboration with the comedy theater, isn't it?
And bicycles, typewriters… Leon, are you about to become a millionaire?

Huysmann then stood up and circled Lionel around halfway: "Balzac and Dumas were both eager to do business, but they all failed."

Could a successful businessman emerge from among our French writers?

Zola, Huysmann, and the others all looked at Lionel with eyes full of envy, even jealousy.

Most 19th-century writers had little moral concern about getting rich and were almost all enthusiastic about gambling, investing, or doing business.

Many of them were forced to keep creating because of debt, such as Dostoevsky, who recently passed away.

Flaubert, who inherited a country villa and hundreds of thousands of francs, only wrote four novels in his lifetime and could agonize over a single punctuation mark for an entire day.

In order to complete his works as quickly as possible, Dostoevsky even married his scribe, and almost all of his works in the last ten years of his life were dictated.

Therefore, Lionel's success in business was even more likely to arouse the envy of his friends than his success in literature.

Maupassant suddenly remembered something, a mysterious expression on his face, and leaned closer to Lionel: "Hey, Lionel, are you free tomorrow afternoon?"

I'll take you to a great place, I guarantee you'll have a lot of fun!

Lionel frowned: "Where?"

Huysmann and the others burst into laughter first: "Hey, Guy, which new brothel have you discovered? The one on Blanch Avenue?"

Maupassant repeatedly denied it, but when others asked him to specify the location, he said, "I can't say now, it would ruin the fun."

Lionel nodded: "Okay, I'll go with you tomorrow afternoon."

(End of this chapter)