A Brief Surrealist History (Published in Wilde Press)

Theatre Michel, Paris, 1923;

Deep into the velvet night, a collection of artists are gathered for a production of Soirée du Coeur à Barbe (Night of the Bearded Heart), the newest play from poet, playwright, and performer Tristan Tzara. There is no way of knowing that this night will finalize the breakage which has been upon the horizon for weeks. There is no way to tell that this night will end in brutality, violence, and arrests. This is merely the beginning of a performance. Yet it is the performance that will divorce two movements for all of history. 

Here, the sallow-faced Tzara is established amidst the ranks of waning Dadaists. Seated aside from the audience, collected into a single, solitary group, they are a testament to the tension which has been brewing in Paris. Across the theatre, separated by the darkened aisle, the young Andre Breton sits amongst the preterite Surrealists, tipping his cane and waiting for the show to begin. 

Though, as it stands, there is only animosity, many of these young artists can still recall when the disparate groups were a united front. Not long before, the two parties had been as one, under the Dadaist moniker. They believed firmly that in a world so recently ravaged by the violence of global war, art could exist only as a reflection of this savagery. Dadaism was a revolutionary movement of anti-art meant to address the absurdity of the post-war era. It was an admixture, equal part nihilism, angst, and avante.   

Andre Breton believed that Dadaism had run its course and that the movement had become a thing of antiquity. In truth, it was only a matter of time before the nihilism of Dada turned inwards, involuting and splintering apart into a series of infights between the artists themselves. Andre Breton, now seated in the eves of the theatre, headed the Surrealists, who believed they had discovered the much-needed improvement. Tying together Freudian ethics with the flavouring of Marxism, the Surrealists now stood as opposed to what they viewed as an art form on its deathbed. 

Sensing the internal rift, Tristan Tzara has put together this night’s performance as a way of rounding up the old crew. Those in attendance stand as the foremost names of the day: artists, poets, musicians, and performers who are still lauded even in the modern era. In speaking more, Jean Cocteau, Paul Eluard, and Phillipe Soupalt are present, and there is music composed by the likes of Stravinsky, Satie, and Milhaud. In its entirety, Theatre Michel is occupied by the most prestigious artists Paris has to offer. 

All at once, the show begins, though not in the way the audience has been made to expect. With sudden vigour, the young writer, Pierre de Massot, takes the stage and proceeds to recite a list of names. Loudly, he prefaces that these names are Tombé au champ d'honneur or Those Fallen on the Field of Honour. He means to say that these are the names of artists who have since become obsolete, or rather, those who have fallen out of favour with the Dadaists. Herein, de Massot lists Duchamp, Picabia, and, most notably, the name of Pablo Picasso. Immediately, there is an uproar, with jeers descending from the audience. Cries of outrage come from the Surrealists, headed by a newly animated Andre Breton. Enraged by the disrespect put upon the absent painter, Breton leaps to his feet and waves a fist at the young writer. Now, the Dadaists, too, are in arms, shouting down the Surrealists’ abuse. Called to action, Breton springs onto the stage itself and unmercifully strikes de Massot with his cane. This occurs for a short, panicked moment until, with relish, he fractures the writer’s arm. 

Having been dragged back to his seat, Breton and the Surrealists subside into quiet as the show truly starts. Incorporating extreme and angular costume designs by Sonia Delaunay, the play is a deeply curious one. Staged as an interpretation of Tzara’s earlier play, The Gas Heart, this production delivers a series of disjointed dialogues wherein the characters are established as human body parts such as Ear, Eye, Nose, and Neck. Although the play has hardly begun before pandemonium erupts again. Without warning, there is abuse again being hurled, and soon thereafter, the two groups are caught in renewed fighting. Here, the actors are thrown about in costumes that provide little to no mobility. Breton and Tzara clash wildly, all while the owner of the Theatre Michel, cries, “My lovely little theatre!” 

Soon enough, the police are summoned, and many of the actors and poets are promptly arrested. It is no understatement to consider this one of poetry’s most violent nights, as all parties involved come away well-bloodied and beaten. Even to the bitter end, members of both sides trade blows, throwing themselves viciously into the melee occurring at the very centre of the theatre. 

This night marks the generally understood end to Dadaism’s briefly shining reign. Much of their dwindling support, which had held fast until this point, dissolved following the arrests made at the Theatre Michel. Coined as Le-Suicide Club, the theatre refused to put on any of Tzara’s further productions (a fact which led him to attempt legal action against Paul Eluard). Breton triumphantly proclaimed that he had, on this night, witnessed Dadaism’s obsequies or the funeral rites for a now-deadened movement. 

Soon after, Andre Breton produced his first Surrealist Manifesto, outlining the new age of absurd art and what to expect from his nascent movement. From here, the art world exploded into life, born from the flowering corpse of Dadaism. Contemporary icons, such as Salvador Dali arrived into the surreal circus, producing some of the most legendary works of 20th century art. It can be supposed that Dadaism’s death led to the birth of a wider profusion of art at large. Indeed, this would be the optimist’s perspective, believing that Tzara’s defeat meant the wider liberation of art and culture. 

But suppose that on this night, tucked into his seat in the Theatre Michel, Tristan Tzara had every intention of murdering his beloved child. Perhaps it was the case that he knew the truth of the matter. Dadaism was to be the sacrificial lamb; meant to die in the name of greater art. Here, the Soirée du Coeur à Barbe, exists as the nexus point, a pivotal turning from one era to the next. Somewhere amidst the violence, vitriol, and chaos, there was art, and there remains art, forever outrageous and utterly absurd.