Philosophy & Theatre

Damn, am I cultured.

Alex spends a lot of time waiting in subway stations. (I suppose most commuters with his schedule do.) He often comes home with ridiculous stories that unfolded during his idleness – solicitation by Scientologists, harassment from creepy homeless men, disappointment due to a disastrous iPod. Not last week. Last week he came home with a magazine.

Stuff @ Night included an interesting listing in their calendar section that he knew I’d love to see. (Aww, what a nice brother I have!) The American Repository Theater on Brattle Street in Cambridge (which may or may not have some relation to Harvard) was putting on one the most famous plays by one of our most favorite philosophers. And… there was a bar. Say no more – before I realized the week had passed, Alex and I were drinking beers in the tiny artsy theater waiting for Jean-Paul Sartre’s No Exit to begin.

Jean-Paul Sartre has always intrigued me. Yes, I am inexplicably in love with (almost) everything French. (Ok, fine, everything.) I thoroughly enjoy philosophy, and Sartre’s work is certainly thought provoking. And his controversial relationship with Simone de Beauvoir leaves me in utter admiration – there’s nothing like a powerful, independent woman whose both French and in Love.

No Exit also happens to be my favorite of his works, (Though in the book No Exit & Three Other Plays, the piece entitled Dirty Hands is dedicated to Delores, who may or may not be a family friend… how scandalous! And that makes me like it more than I probably would if it were dedicated to someone I didn’t know.) mostly because of its underlying principle. It takes place in hell (again, intriguing), except Sartre’s portrait of hell is a flame-less hotel room. In this room three seemingly random strangers are placed for eternity, fully clothed and equipped with personal couches. No instruments of torture. No pointy-tailed devils. No forced repenting of a lifetime of guilt. Instead, as we later find out, these individuals will suffer because they will have to spend the rest of time cooped up with their chamber-mates.

And that’s the thing – isn’t it – Hell is other people.