Johnny Johnson As Gestic Theatre Michael Patrick Nolan

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Electronic Theses, Treatises and Dissertations The Graduate School

2004 Brechtian Philosophy without Brecht: Johnny Johnson as Gestic Theatre Michael Patrick Nolan

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THE FLORIDA STATE UNIVERSITY

SCHOOL OF THEATRE

BRECHTIAN PHILOSOPHY WITHOUT BRECHT:

JOHNNY JOHNSON AS GESTIC THEATRE

MICHAEL PATRICK NOLAN

A Thesis submitted to the School of Theatre in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of Master of Arts

Degree Awarded: Spring Semester, 2004

The members of the Committee approve the thesis of Michael Patrick Nolan defended on

March 29, 2004.

Anita Gonzalez Professor Directing Thesis

Carrie Sandahl Committee Member

Gayle Seaton Committee Member

The Office of Graduate Studies has verified and approved the above named committee members.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

The author would like to thank the helpful and friendly staff of the Wilson Library at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill for their assistance in accessing the Paul Green Papers without which this project could not have been possible.

The author would also like to acknowledge the tireless work of his thesis committee, Anita Gonzalez, Carrie Sandahl, and Gayle Seaton, as well as Joe Karioth and Mary- Karen Dahl for their support, encouragement, and assistance during a difficult time.

The author would also like to thank Hollie Marie Corbitt for invaluable editorial and research assistance, as well as transportation.

Finally, the author would like to thank the late John Degen for introducing me to a wonderful play called Johnny Johnson, for his encyclopedia-like knowledge of American musical theatre, and his tireless efforts as a member of my committee.

iii TABLE OF CONTENTS

LIST OF FIGURES ……………………………………………………………………. v

ABSTRACT …………………………………………………………………………… iv

INTRODUCTION …………………………………………………….……………... 1 Texts and Methodology………………………………………………………… 3

1. THE CREATION OF GESTUS AND JOHNNY JOHNSON ………………..…….. 7 Johnny Johnson, an American Everyman ……………………………….….… 7 Weill, Green, and the Group: Unlikely Prophets of Peace …….……………… 10 Evolving Theories of Gestus: Musical, Lyrical, and Social ………………….. 21

2. THE MUSIC OF JOHNNY JOHNSON: DETERMINING GESTUS ……………… 31 Songs of War and Peace ………………………………………..………..……. 31 The Traditional Waltz in Johnny Johnson ……………….…………………… 34 Gestus through the Tango in “Captain Valentine’s Song”……………….…... 35 The Missing Scenes and Song …………………………..………………….... 37 The Goddess’ Song—Gestus Through Icons …………………………………. 43 A Sea Song For Tea …………………………………..…………………….… 45 Kraber’s Cowboy Song …………………………….……………………….…. 48 Mysterious Melodies and Musical Munitions ….…..…………………….……. 50 The Use of “La Marseille” …………………………..………………………... 52 The Repeating Foxtrot ………………………….…………….…………….…. 53 War and Tumults ………………………………………………………………. 56 The Lunatics Running the Asylum …………………………………………… 57 Gestus and Satire …………………….……………………………………….... 60 Johnny’s Song …………………..……………………………………………... 63

3. CONCLUSION …………………..…………………………………………………. 67

APPENDIX ……………………...…………………………………………………..… 80

REFERENCES ……………...………………………………………………………… 94

BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH ………..………………………………………………… 99

LIST OF FIGURES

FIGURE 1. “Democracy’s Call”………………………………………………………... 80 FIGURE 2. “Democracy’s Call”………………………………………………………... 80 FIGURE 3. “Democracy’s Call” ……………………………………………………….. 81 FIGURE 4. “Democracy’s Call” ……………………………………………………….. 81 FIGURE 5. “Democracy’s Call” (reprise) ……………………………………………... 82 FIGURE 6. “Captain Valentine’s Song”……………………………………………….. 82 FIGURE 7. “Captain Valentine’s Song” ………………………………………………. 83 FIGURE 8. “The West Pointer” ………………………………………………………... 84 FIGURE 9. “The West Pointer” ………………………………………………………... 84 FIGURE 10. “The Sea Song” ………………………………………………………….. 85 FIGURE 11. “Oh the Rio Grande” …………………………………………………….. 85 FIGURE 12. “Oh Heart of Love” ……………………………………………………… 86 FIGURE 13. “Johnny’s Dream” ……………………………………………………….. 86 FIGURE 14. “The Allied High Command” ……………………………………………. 87 FIGURE 15. “The Laughing Generals” ………………………………………………... 88 FIGURE 16. “The Battle” ……………………………………………………………… 88 FIGURE 17. “The Battle” ……………………………………………………………… 88 FIGURE 18. “In Times of War and Tumults” …………………………………………. 89 FIGURE 19. “The Psychiatry Song” …………………………………………………... 90 FIGURE 20. “The Psychiatry Song ……………………………………………………. 90 FIGURE 21. “The Psychiatry Song ……………………………………………………. 91 FIGURE 22. “Asylum Chorus” ………………………………………………………... 92 FIGURE 23. “Blest Be the Tie That Binds” …………………………………………… 92 FIGURE 24. “Johnny’s Song” …………………………………………………………. 93 FIGURE 25. “Johnny’s Song …………………………………………………………... 93

ABSTRACT

This thesis explores Weill and Green’s Johnny Johnson, produced by the Group Theatre in 1936. The play is an example of gestic theatre, first seen in the works of Brecht and Weill and continued by Weill after his arrival in the United States. The purpose is to determine the gestic quality of the play by first exploring the many theories and identifying a clear definition of gestus, and then by highlighting moments in the texts that exhibit qualities of that definition. By using both published material and archival documents from the Wilson Library at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, a detailed reading was performed to determine moments within the play that meet the criteria established in the paper. The material reviewed included the text of the play as well as Weill’s musical score. The research determined four variations of gestus either created by Brecht and Weill or adapted by Weill and Green: musical, lyrical, visual and social. Johnny Johnson contains several examples of these variations. Johnny Johnson is a clear example of Brecht and Weill’s legacy, the next step in their theories, which has its influence in current musical theatre.

INTRODUCTION

In 1936 the Group Theatre produced its first and only musical, Johnny Johnson, an anti-war morality tale set during the First World War. Paul Green wrote the lyrics and the book, and Kurt Weill composed the music. Green was a Southern playwright and social activist from North Carolina, who had won a Pulitzer Prize a decade prior to writing Johnny Johnson. Weill was a composer of opera and popular musical theatre in his native Germany before emigrating to the United States when the Nazis came to power. The Group Theatre, a company of actors and directors that attempted to promote the theories of Constantine Stanislavski and to produce meaningful plays with a social impact, brought these unlikely collaborators together. The resulting endeavor, Johnny Johnson, is a curious play. At its heart it is a modern-day morality play with an American “Everyman” as its central character. He encounters the horrors of war, and the authors express their own war-related social and political opinions through his experiences. Green and Weill assert that the public was being led through blind patriotism, that their leaders’ tactics and motives were questionable, and that society had a negative reaction to peace-seeking individuals. The moral of the story is that war ruins lives, yet if the individual is sound, he may survive the experience with his soul intact. The play is an amalgam of styles; scenes shift freely from realism to expressionism to surrealism. In addition to having the distinction of being Kurt Weill’s first attempt at creating a musical after leaving his native Germany in 1933, it is also the only musical that either the Group Theatre or Paul Green would ever create, although Green would later incorporate music in many of his symphonic dramas, such as Lost Colony. It is also significant in that it is the first appearance of gestic theatre in the American musical, used in this instance to protest the horrors of war. Gestic music is music that is specifically designed to foster an emotional and intellectual relationship between the audience and the play, drawing on the

inherent assumptions and preconceived notions that an audience would invariably possess towards an identifiable style of music. The audience would react to the musical styles familiarity and transfer whatever feelings or thought they embody to the actor and situation, essentially communicating to the audience a specific attitude or gest. The use of gestus in Johnny Johnson can largely be credited to Weill’s theories on music, which he formulated while creating musical theatre in Germany. Weill’s theories sprang from his mostly successful partnership with noted playwright, director, and theorist Bertolt Brecht, who had significant ideas about how theatre should be performed. Brecht combined narrative and dramatic elements to tell his stories, employing what he called the Verfremdungseffekt (roughly, “estrangement effect”) to stimulate his audience intellectually, and he paid particular attention to the gestic qualities of his productions. Brecht and Weill gained international fame with their productions of The Threepenny Opera (1927) and The Rise and Fall of the City of Mahagonny (1930), in which they developed their ideas of gestus. The German collaborators parted over creative differences and soon found themselves fleeing Germany in 1933. Their paths led them to radically different destinies. Brecht lived in exile, writing his most famous plays and scholarly works, while Weill became a Broadway composer. Brecht continued to write about gestus, refining his theories, but what happened to Weill’s own theories on gestic music? Did he abandon them in favor of a Broadway sound? Weill’s harshest critics claim that he compromised his integrity and began producing work that was highly commercial but lacking in substance, but is this accurate? Perhaps he tried to continue to write gestic music but found it impossible to create the same effect without the lyrical contributions of Bertolt Brecht. Weill’s gestic music by itself has very little effect; melody and lyric must be used together to create the proper effect. Brecht, as director and playwright, had the necessary authority to demand of a composer the musical qualities required to achieve his goals. Weill, as composer, had less authority to demand a gestic quality from a playwright, who would naturally have very particular opinions about incorporating such characteristics into his writing. Weill may have continued to compose gestic music, but his work lacked the imprint of its co-creator. An assessment of the gestic quality of Johnny Johnson, Weill’s first American piece, will demonstrate Weill’s attempt to recreate gestic theatre

without Brecht. Evidence can be found within the published and non-published texts that demonstrate elements of gestic theatre. Although it was a commercial failure, it is clear that many moments in Johnny Johnson reflect Green’s understanding of gestic theory, and these instances can be seen as an attempt to incorporate Weill’s ideas into the text of the play, and as such can be seen as a successful example of gestic theatre.

Texts and Methodology

Johnny Johnson is rarely performed, and many will be unfamiliar with the story or the music. As a result, a synopsis of the play is included. By contrast, the principal creators, Kurt Weill and Paul Green, are very well known for their oeuvres. Weill is famous for The Threepenny Opera and Lady in the Dark, where Green is known for In Abraham’s Bosom and Lost Colony. Johnny Johnson is influenced by both men’s past experience, in particularly their involvement in World War I as a soldier in Green’s case and as a teenage citizen in Weill’s situation. It is important to understand the background of Weill, Green and the Group Theatre, for their politics and convictions heavily influenced the inception of Johnny Johnson, and as such, a brief background of the creators is included in this thesis. Once the major plays of the story are identified, the concept of gestus must be defined. This proved to be difficult in that there is no universally agreed-upon definition of gestus. It has no direct English translation, scholars disagree on the meaning, and it is often completely misunderstood. Any question as to the meaning of gestus must begin its creators in the writings of Bertolt Brecht and Kurt Weill, for they individually wrote their ideas about the nature of gestic theatre, but even in their writings it is difficult to clarify a definition because they would alter their theories over time. The Writings of Brecht include the articles “On Gestic Music,” “On Rhythmless Verse with Irregular Rhythm,” “Short Description of a New Technique of Acting Which Produces an Alienation Effect,” and “Short Organum for the Theatre,” These articles can be found in Brecht on Theatre: The Development of an Aesthetic with English translations by noted Brechtian scholar John Willett. Weill’s article “Concerning the Gestic Character of Music” can be found in English translation in Kurt Weill in Europe by Kim Kowalke.

Secondary sources involve the many scholars that have attempted to define getsus. In addition to the aforementioned scholars, Willett and Kowalke, books and articles by Kenneth Fowler, Foster Hirsch, Ronald Sanders, and David Stoffel each try to illuminate the definition of gestus and point out discrepancies. Through the scholarly debate, a definition, primarily through Weill’s writings, began to emerge. The Gestic process is altering an established piece of work in order to foster an emotional and intellectual relationship between the audience and the play. The audience would react to the familiarity and transfer whatever feelings or thought they have to the actor and situation, essentially communicating to the audience a specific attitude or gest. There are four different kinds of gestus. The first is musical gestus, where an established piece of music that has a specific connotation is performed. The music can be an entire song, a recognized melody, or even as small as the rhythm of a particular style, as long as the piece is recognizable to the listener. The second type is lyrical, where there are two schools of thought. The type used in Johnny Johnson is where the spoken word references an established piece with history and meaning. In Brecht’s writings, it is when the combination of rhythm and rhyme reflect a characters’ mental state. While the first two are mostly aural, visual gestus, the third type, is where an image with a specific meaning is presented. The image can be a famous icon or as common as an everyday event. It can also be a movement, as long as it has a specific meaning. The fourth and most difficult to define is social gestus, where a situation is placed within a specific context in order to demonstrate the relationship between individuals. Once gestus is defined, Johnny Johnson can be looked at for examples The bulk of this thesis contains a close reading of songs and gestic moments from Johnny Johnson. Since the nature of theatre is transitory at best, attention is paid to the written texts of the play in terms of stage direction and visual imagery. Most of the songs have a gestic quality to them and they are discussed in this thesis. A number of songs do not qualify as gestic music under the established criteria. The songs “Aggie’s Song,” “Song of the Wounded Frenchmen,” and “Mon Ami, My Friend” do not have rhythmic or melodic elements that are easily recognizable. This is not to say that they are functionless. “Song of the Wounded Frenchmen” sets a mood through minor and dissonant chords, but it doesn’t create an association with another musical form. “Aggie’s

Song” is very rhythmic; it mirrors the rhythm of the sewing machine that she is working with while singing. Sanders calls “Mon Ami, My Friend,” a “bit of French pastiche,” (236) while Hirsch calls it “convincing French drag” (142). However the piece doesn’t real subtext, only nationality, and is therefore not gestic. While not every moment in the piece can be described as gestic, there are many examples of gestic theatre in Johnny Johnson. Complicating the matter of finding the gestic content of Johnny Johnson is the multitude of texts available. Although they are very similar, each edition contains minor alterations as Paul Green made many changes and omissions to the text of Johnny Johnson both prior to publication by publisher Samuel French in 1937 and in subsequent editions, also by Samuel French. The earliest published copy of the plays is the 1937 Samuel French edition, which is very similar to that of the original production that opened at the Forty-Fourth Street Theatre in 1936. Green subtitled the play “The Biography of the Common Man,” and it is the earliest edition that is available to the general public, and as such, most of the quotes from the play in this thesis are from that edition unless otherwise noted. Green republished the play in 1963 as part of “Five Plays of the South,” a collection of Green’s plays published by Hill & Wang. The Hill & Wang edition of the play is a reprint of the 1937 Samuel French version, and the publishers even refer inquiries about performance rights to Samuel French. The only difference between the two versions was that Green revised the subtitle to “A Fable of Ancient and Modern Times.” Green would rewrite and publish the play once more with Samuel French in 1971, thirty-five years after the original Broadway production, and it contains many changes, including yet another alteration of the subtitle, “The Biography of a Common Man,” which is very similar to the one assigned to the 1937 version. The play is divided into two acts instead of three and contains the songs “Johnny’s Song,” “Song of the Goddess,” and Sergeant Jackson’s patter-song. It also includes a version of Johnny’s song in Act I. Of the published versions, the 1971 edition is least like original Broadway production. Samuel French also published Weill’s piano and vocal score in 1940. All of the musical references in this thesis are from that score unless otherwise noted Paul Green donated many of his notes and journals to The University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. These documents are now part of the North Carolina Collection at Wilson

Library. The notes contain an unpublished version of the play, subtitled “A Legend,” that appears to be a copy sent by Samuel French to Green for approval. The script contains Green’s notes and markings, eliminating several scenes and a few songs. In doing so, Green eliminated several moments from the play from the 1937 Samuel French edition. The North Carolina collection also contains Green diary, a program from the original Broadway production, and several letters and telegrams, including one by F. Cowles Strickland, a director, which discuss the changes in text. Also included in this collection is Weill’s original unpublished score that contains the music to “The West Pointer.” The information found at Wilson Library was vital in reconstructing the original performance.

CHAPTER 1 THE CREATION OF GESTUS AND JOHNNY JOHNSON

Johnny Johnson, an American Everyman

The story of Johnny Johnson begins before the United States enters World War I. It is 1917 and the citizens of a small town in North Carolina are celebrating the anniversary of their town’s founding, which was a historic treaty between European settlers and Native Americans. For the occasion, a stonecutter named Johnny Johnson, the play’s protagonist, has created a monument to peace. At this time, America has yet to enter the war, and the mayor of the town takes the opportunity to reflect upon American isolationist policy. He speaks of George Washington’s warning to avoid foreign alliances and states “America must stay out” (7). Minerva “Minnie Belle” Tompkins, the object of Johnny’s affection, leads the crowd in a hymn to peace, but Grandpa Joe, a veteran of the Civil War, interrupts the hymn by singing of his adventures at Chick-a-munga Hill. The crowd is enraptured by his story, and Johnny is confused, wondering if the crowd is for peace or for war. A boy arrives on a bicycle to inform the crowd that war has been declared, and the crowd rushes off in anticipation. Anguish Howington, Johnny’s rival for Minnie Belle, is introduced as a coward, but he is willing to pretend that he is pro-war in order to win Minnie Belle’s hand. Johnny and Anguish quarrel as Johnny is unclear on the reason for the war, believing Woodrow Wilson’s earlier claims that America should not become involved. Minnie Belle is aghast for her naive patriotism establishes an absolute: one is both patriotic and supportive of the war or against the war and a traitor. The scene ends with Johnny looking forlornly at his abandoned monument to peace. At Minnie Belle’s house her mother Aggie sings a song about her dead husband, while she works at the sewing machine. Aggie clearly favors Anguish as a suitor for her daughter, while Grandpa Joe likes Johnny. Johnny is still undecided about the war, but Minnie Belle insists that he enlist; meanwhile Aggie instructs Anguish to prepare himself

for the draft board. Aggie describes how members of her family had avoided wartime service in the past by injuring themselves in ways that were not fatal, but made them unfit for duty. After reading in the newspaper Wilson’s claim that the war would be “the war to end all wars,” Johnny, taking Wilson’s words literally, decides that he will enlist for the noble cause of ending all war. At the recruitment office an Army officer, Captain Valentine, enters singing a tango while reading a magazine about a sultry affair. Valentine and the medical examiner are working to fill vacancies in Valentine’s company despite a low turnout. Anguish has succeeded in turning himself into such a sickly recruit that he is easily rejected. The Captain and his doctor are so desperate that they will accept anyone healthy. Johnny enters and submits to an examination to determine his intelligence, but his country logic does not fit with the Army’s idea of sanity, so he is summarily dismissed. Upset, he knocks out the two guards restraining him, demonstrating such amazing physical strength that Valentine declares Johnny the ideal recruit.1 Johnny is shipped off to war, and while on a boat in New York Harbor, he makes a promise to the Statue of Liberty that he will find a way to end the suffering overseas. After the boat pulls away, the Statue sings about living under the cold earth and lamenting the men who will soon die.2 The second act begins in France, as Johnny’s squad is replacing wounded soldiers leaving the battle. They are preparing for a major Allied attack and are apprehensive. The squad is comprised of men from all walks of life, including an Irishman, a Jewish soldier, and a cowboy. Private Harwood, the cowboy, sings a ballad about giving up the wild frontier to enlist for the love of a woman, echoing Johnny’s story. As the men sleep, Minnie Belle’s voice can be heard reprising her song to Johnny, and the cannons sing their lament over the fact that they are used to kill. The next morning Johnny agrees to undertake a mission to remove a German sniper, a young boy named Johan, which he does by using the cowboy’s lasso. Johnny is inspired by how similar the two men are, and he gives Johan letters that he has written that describe the reasons for the war. It is his hope that Johan will pass the letters on to other Germans soldiers, convincing them to lay

1 There are two scenes following scene 3 that appeared in the original Broadway production and an additional song “The West Pointer.” They are omitted from the 1937 version and will be discussed in Chapter Three. 2 Also omitted from the 1937 version, but included in the 1971 version.

down their weapons. He lets Johan escape, receiving a non-fatal wound in the buttocks in the process.3 Johnny is taken to a military hospital, where he is treated by a young French nurse who has fallen in love with him. She sings a song in the style of a French chanteuse as she cares for Johnny, but he spurns her advances. While in the hospital, he overhears news that while the main offensive is still on, a rebellion is taking over the German soldiers, and he is convinced that it is the result of his interaction with Johan. During a visit by a nurse with show business aspirations who is preparing a USO show, the doctors introduce anesthetic gas, accidentally sending the nurse into a laughing fit and a tap dance routine that gives Johnny a terrific idea. He steals the laughing gas and boldly enters a strategic meeting of the Allied High Command, and tries to explain his position on the war, but they disregard his appeal for peace and continue preparations for their attack. Johnny then releases the laughing gas, sending them into a frenzied dance. In their disoriented state, the commanders make Johnny a general, and he immediately calls an end to the war. Elated, Johnny runs out to spread the news, but when the commanders come to their senses, they quickly send word to stop him. On the battlefield Johnny announces the end of the war to elated soldiers on both sides, but their celebration is short-lived, as officers arrive to reveal that the war is indeed back on. Carnage ensues with bloody casualties on both sides, including young Johan. Johnny is arrested on the spot and brought back to the United States. Once again he sails by the Statue of Liberty, but this time she is silent. In America, Johnny is sent to a psychiatric facility where the doctor diagnoses him as having a mania for peace, and cites Jesus as an example of a similarly afflicted individual. Johnny is committed, and when Minnie Belle learns that Johnny did not kill a single German in battle, she turns from him to Anguish. Johnny is kept in the psychiatric facility for ten years, and he spends his days debating other inmates who represent the prominent politicians—such as Henry Cabot Lodge, William Borah, and Theodore Roosevelt—who were active in the debate on the League of Nations. Anguish, who has become wealthy from selling mineral water, visits the facility and reveals to Johnny that he has married Minnie Belle and that they have a child. When Johnny is finally released

3 The 1971 version places the act break after this scene.

from the institution, he finds work as a toy maker, selling his creations on the streets. As public discussions begin turning to the subject of World War II, Johnny runs into Minnie Belle, who does not recognize him, and her son. The boy, Anguish Jr., wants to purchase toy soldiers, but Johnny doesn’t make them. As he is left alone on the stage, he sings a little song to the tune that has been playing throughout the production as “Johnny’s Theme,” his leitmotif. This is the first and only time Johnny sings in the show, which is unusual for a musical-theatre protagonist who would most likely sing throughout the production.4 Like most biographies, the plot follows Johnny throughout his adventures. While we are given the entire play to get to know Johnny, the other characters in the play only show up intermittently. Minnie Belle appears in only four scenes, while other characters, such as Dr. Mahodan, the French nurse, Dr. McBray, and Aggie Tompkins appear in only one scene each, yet each character significantly affects the plot in his or her turn. In this case, gestic actions and music are an ideal way to demonstrate a great deal about these characters in the short amount of time given to each. The audience members form associations at the very instant they hear the music and are informed about the characters’ emotional inner beings at the speed of thought. In essence, gestic music relies on the intelligence of the audience to relate complex emotional states in a brief amount of time. By making assumptions about the audience’s musical knowledge, gestic music quickly provides enough insight about the characters without interrupting the narrative flow, allowing characters with minimal stage time the opportunity for greater dimension.

Weill, Green, and the Group: Unlikely Prophets of Peace

Kurt Julian Weill was born in 1900 in Dessau, Germany, forty miles south of Berlin. The son of a cantor, Weill had extensive musical training as a child and began composing at a young age. He went to Berlin at the age of eighteen to study at the prestigious Hochschule für Musik under the tutelage of Ferruccio Busoni, who instructed Weill in the art of combining different musical traits into a new style. Weill would continue Busoni’s lessons by synthesizing popular and classical idioms in his own works.

4 Johnny’s only song is omitted from the 1937 version, but included in the 1971 version.

After college he became known for composing atonal operas such as Der Protagonist and Der Zar lässt sich photographieren (The Czar has his Photograph Taken). At twenty-five he became a music critic for the radio station Der Deutsche Rundfunk (German Radio), where he had the opportunity to review the incidental music for Bertolt Brecht’s Mann ist Mann. Soon after, Weill met the playwright and began collaborating with him.5 The Brecht-Weill partnership began with a collection of Brecht’s poems set to Weill’s music. Called the Mahagonny Songspiel, it premiered at the Baden-Baden music festival in 1927, and afterward Weill became known as one of Germany’s newest modern composers. The pair planned a full-length version of Mahagonny, but they were temporarily sidetracked when the opportunity to stage an updated version of John Gay’s The Beggar’s Opera presented itself. After Brecht and Weill created new songs and a new book, the play became known as Die Dreigroschenoper, or The Threepenny Opera, and it was an enormous success, making the collaborators very rich men. Although it was initially unsuccessful in the United States, it was translated into eighteen languages and had over ten thousand performances in several countries within five years. The duo eventually completed their own opera, called Aufstieg und Fall der Stadt Mahagonny (The Rise and Fall of the City of Mahagonny), as well as a follow-up to The Threepenny Opera called Happy End. It was during this time that Weill began to publish articles discussing gestic music, music that reflects a character’s inner state of being through rhythmic signifiers. Weill writes mostly about the musical aspect of gestus and the ability of music to denote character, leaving discussion of lyrical and social gestus to his partner. Brecht and Weill’s collaboration was rocky due to growing personal conflicts. In a fit of anger during a rehearsal for Mahagonny, Brecht had once declared, “I’m going to put on full war-paint and throw that phony Richard Strauss [i.e., Weill] right down the stairs!” (Sanders 183) The pair eventually ended their partnership, for Weill wished to return to other genres of music such as opera and non-theatrical pieces that he felt he had been neglecting as well as continuing in his role as music critic and essayist (Sanders 183). Weill worked without Brecht on his next piece, the opera Der Silbersee (The Silver Lake) with playwright Georg Kaiser, which opened on February 18, 1933. A week later

5 Information on Kurt Weill was found in Ronald Sanders The Days Grow Short and Foster Hirsch’ Kurt Weill on Stage.

the Nazis set fire to the Reichstag, beginning their reign of terror, and Weill fled to France. Upon arriving in Paris, Weill reluctantly accepted an offer to create a ballet, Die sieben Todsünden (The Seven Deadly Sins), with choreographer George Balanchine and with Brecht, who had fled to Denmark. Weill completed one more production in Europe, Marie Galante, before he and his wife, singer and actor Lotte Lenya, came to the United States in 1935 at the behest of expatriate German director Max Reinhardt. Reinhardt was planning to stage an epic production of the history of the Jewish people, and he invited Weill to write the score for the play, which was written by Franz Werfel and titled The Eternal Road. Work on The Eternal Road stalled due to the reconstruction of the Manhattan Opera House, leaving Weill in New York without any projects or a source of income; however, after he attended a rehearsal of the opera Porgy and Bess, he became determined to duplicate his European success in America. He was amazed at composer George Gerswhin’s music, which managed to fuse classical music and American jazz, and Gershwin’s ability to apply such music to a dramatic form in much the same fashion as Weill had with his successful German works. Perhaps his inspirational encounter with the Gershwin brothers’ masterpiece led him to believe that he could replicate his earlier success with Brecht in the United States by utilizing the same techniques that brought The Threepenny Opera such fame. Given Weill’s fervent desire to leave Germany and become an American citizen, Johnny Johnson stands as almost the black sheep in Weill’s political history. After emigrating to the United States, Weill began to distance himself from everything German. He insisted that his name be pronounced with a “W” rather than a “V,” and he rarely spoke German after mastering English. In an interview with William G. King of the New York Sun, Weill expressed that he was ready to write contemporary music. “I write for today. I don’t give a damn about writing for prosperity” (Sanders 290). Later, during the war, he volunteered for his local Air Watch and composed music for many fund raisers for the war effort. He was determined to become an American citizen, and made efforts to dissociate himself from Brecht, who was an unabashed communist. It is almost hard to believe that such a patriotic man could be one of the authors behind such an anti-war play, but such contradictions are a reflection of Weill’s background. He

undoubtedly witnessed first-hand the destruction that war brought to his country as a teenager, and at the same time, as a Jew, he was surely horrified at the Nazis’ reign of terror. A history like that might produce a man who would support the effort to rid Europe of a madman like Hitler, yet would also hate a society where violent ends were necessary. Paul Green, who was also in Europe during World War I and had seen the horrors of war first hand, may have shared Weill’s opinion. Paul Eliot Green was born in 1894 in Harnett County, a rural area of North Carolina. Throughout his life, he was dedicated to the issue of civil rights, perhaps inspired by the idea of racial cooperation that was supported by the late 1890s political movement known as “Fusion Politics,” which refers to the uniting of moderate, middle- class white Republicans with African-American Republicans and Populist farmers (Roper 24). The movement led to the election of a U.S. senator and a governor6 and greater prominence for the African-American community. John Herbert Roper, in his 1994 article “Paul Green’s War Songs,” offers the following description of Green: Green was, perhaps, the prototype of the Chapel Hill liberal, but above all, he was a Public Man, in the way that the term was used in the Enlightenment; that is, he was constantly before the public, his ideas constantly on trial in the forum of political opinion and debate. His causes found their way onto the stage in the plays that he wrote, but he also spoke and wrote more directly – in speeches, articles, and essays – to the political and social issues of the day. (23) Green was a student at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill before he enlisted in the military. In wartime, Green was assigned to the 105th Engineer Regiment, a support division of the 30th Infantry Division, which was a National Guard unit that incorporated men from North Carolina, South Carolina and Tennessee under the command of Major General John F. Morrison. The regiment’s function was digging and maintaining trenches along with destroying any obstacles in the division’s way (McPherson 35). Green entered boot camp at Camp Greene, where he trained as a mining engineer from October 1917 until May of the following year. He sailed to Europe on the

6 Sen. George Henry White served from 1897 to 1901, and Gov. Daniel L. Russell served from 1896 to 1900.

Talthybius and started combat duty in July 1918. He was promoted to sergeant and was placed in command of several nighttime missions to maintain defense and repair damage, sometimes requiring him to tunnel under enemy lines. When the Armistice was announced, Green was transferred to Paris as a clerk from November 1918 to July 1919. During his time in Europe he kept a diary, writing poetry that described his experiences: In the drear night I’ve heard wild things, The sobs of lost souls borne upon the wind, The innumerable hosts of sin driven on, The labored breath of death behind. (Roper 41) Green supported the idea of the League of Nations and considered Woodrow Wilson “the greatest president since Abraham Lincoln” (Roper 23). After returning home, he returned to his studies in Chapel Hill. At the University, Green met his mentor, Frederick Henry Koch, who introduced him to The Carolina Playmakers, a student group producing self-written plays with material from everyday life, an approach called “People’s Theatre” (Perkinson 26). Green wrote several plays with Koch’s group, eventually joining the faculty as an assistant professor. In 1927, Green won the Pulitzer Prize for In Abraham’s Bosom, which revolves around Abraham McCranie, the illegitimate offspring of a white slave owner and a slave. The play opens around 1880 and covers a period of about thirty years. Abraham is an ambitious fellow, struggling to create a school for the children of former slaves. Colonel McCranie, his former owner and biological father, gives him permission to create such a school, but it is soon shut down. Abraham tries his hand at many jobs, such as a tenant farmer and a coal worker in various North Carolina towns like Raleigh and Durham, but continues to speak for education and constantly pays the price. After delivering a speech championing education for the children of slaves in his hometown, he is beaten for his trouble. While trying to escape, he has an encounter with Lonnie McCranie, the colonel’s son and Abraham’s half brother and landlord. Lonnie informs him that he has seized the crops that Abraham neglected when he let his farm go, and in a rage, Abraham attacks Lonnie and kills him. For his crime, the white townsfolk come to Abraham’s house and fatally shoot him. In Abraham’s Bosom is presented in a realistic fashion, yet it contains elements of supernatural or surrealist phenomenon. After he kills

Lonnie, Abraham hears nature respond in an almost Chekhovian manner. “The wind groans through the trees like the deep note of some enormous fiddle and then dies away with a muffled boom across the open fields” (69). He also sees a vision of his own conception: his mother and Colonel McCranie sneaking off to the forest to have intercourse. Only then does Abraham realize that he has killed his own brother. Green felt that the success of In Abraham’s Bosom drew him into the world of commercial theatre, and he became determined not to become a commercial artist. In 1928 he was awarded a Guggenheim Fellowship to study European theatre in Berlin, where he saw Weill’s The Threepenny Opera. The piece revitalized him and inspired him to use music as an integral part of his own plays, which is shown in The House of Connelly (Wood 27). This particular play focuses on the members of the Connelly family, plantation owners in the Southern United States. When the play opens, the Connellys are coping with the death of the family patriarch, General William Connelly, who was killed in the Civil War, and he is survived by his brother Robert, his wife, and his three children, Geraldine, Evelyn and William. Their estate has fallen on hard times, and the land is being leased to several tenant farmers. Patsy Tate, one of the farmers’ daughters, has a bold vision of the estate’s future, and she develops a relationship with William, encouraging him to reform the farm. The other members of the house feel threatened by Patsy, but in the end, she marries William and becomes the lady of the house. The House of Connelly reflects Chehkov’s The Cherry Orchard in that the family members represent the Southern Society before the Civil War, whereas Patsy is the New South, the South of the Reconstruction. The family is unwilling to accept that their lives have changed. For example, Uncle Robert constantly talks about the South rising to prominence once more. Our day is not over. Chance, luck that makes us great, makes success. A heavy rain is what beat the Confederacy. Our guns were stuck below the hill. It happened in the rain. But our day will come. (35) The family simply wants to bask in the glory of the past and preserve their way of life. Patsy is the “Lopakin” of the play; she is willing to admit that the world has changed and new methods are needed for survival and success. Throughout the play various characters perform songs to express these sentiments and offer some insight into their ever-changing

points of view. For example, Uncle Robert sings a jaunty Christmas ditty when he first appears, but later, when Patsy has spurned his advances, his attitude changes. The stage directions describe “his eyes glinting with low malice,” and his lyrical content becomes darker. Drunk last night And drunk the night before And if I ever see tomorrow night I’m gonna get drunk some more. (98) This song could very well be the first indication of lyrical gestus in Paul Green’s work. His choice of song lyric reflects his state of mind; the music is a traditional Irish drinking song that would feel appropriate in a barroom setting, but the context of the song changes the meaning. Given the circumstances, and the indication of a trace of malice, the song becomes a reflection of Uncle Robert’s thoughts and feelings. Although Green did not write this piece, his decision to place the song under these conditions suggests that even before he met Weill, yet after he saw The Threepenny Opera, Green had started to experiment with gestus, or at least along similar lines that led to his ideas for Symphonic Drama. In his diary, Green lays out the elements of Symphonic Drama, and he conveys some ideas that are similar to Brecht’s. Objective presentation of reality as well as subjective... By symphonic drama is meant that type of dramatic presentation which (necessarily) demands for its creation the intense and full use of all dramatic elements – words, music, dance, light, masks, color, sculpture (shapes), movement – each one impassioned and integrated in the whole – a sounding (in the Greek sense) together... The two primary elements are words (poetry) and music, and so far the insertion of the cinema does not fit. (Green, Diary 247) Green’s use of both objective and subjective presentations can be compared to Brecht’s theory of dramatic and narrative presentation. Narrative presentation is, by its nature, objective. When Brecht’s characters tell the story to the audience, they become objective reporters presenting the facts. By comparison, dramatic action is subjective, relying on

the character’s point of view to drive the action. Because the above diary entry was written in 1937, it is possible that Weill may have had an influence in Symphonic Drama, relaying Brecht’s theories to Green. The Group Theatre brought these two radically different individuals, Green and Weill, together. The Group Theatre was a company composed of actors and directors who attempted to create a theatre collective with a cast trained in a singular style, what would come to be known as the “Method”, and created contemporary plays with a social conscience. Many of the members of the Group believed in Left-wing politics and wished to address social issues in their works. The Group started when two American members of the Theatre Guild, Harold Clurman and Lee Strasberg, had a long discussion about what Clurman calls “the emptiness of the plays” that had been performed in New York in 1925 (12). Clurman felt that theatre artists needed to be re-educated, and he found his inspiration in Strasberg, who had received training in the Stanislavski acting technique at the American Laboratory Theatre under Richard Boleslavsky. Clurman was also inspired by French director Jacques Copeau’s commitment to an ensemble-style company, shifting the focus from individual actors to the cast as a whole. He felt that while the Theatre Guild brought many non-commercial plays to the American public, they had no “blood relationship” to them (26). Clurman, Strasberg, and Theatre Guild stage manager Cheryl Crawford decided to create their own company as a subset of the Theatre Guild and invited other like-minded individuals, such as actors Morris Carnovsky, Stella Adler and Sanford Meisner, to join them. They shared an impulse to get away from the commercialized, star-driven theatre that had been dominating the industry and rather to focus on the problems of human interaction. Crawford successfully convinced the board of the Theatre Guild to release the rights to Green’s The House of Connelly as well as allowing a budget of one thousand dollars. Subsequently, The House of Connelly became the first play to be produced by the Group Theatre. Clurman describes their intended rehearsal process in his book The Fervent Years. For that is what we decided to do: to go away to some country place with twenty-eight actors and rehearse two plays until they were ready for production in New York. We would pay no salaries, but we would provide meals, living quarters, laundry expense. (36)

As well as developing new plays, the Group would also perform benefit performances in lieu of rent. The Group rehearsed The House of Connolly at the Brookfield Center in 1931 and brought it to Broadway that fall at the Martin Beck Theatre. Although, it opened to favorable reviews, the Group Theatre struggled financially for two years before finally finding success in 1933 with Sidney Kingsley’s Men in White. The subject matter involved an intern in a hospital having to choose between marriage and working with his mentor, and touched on the subject of abortion. Brooks Atkinson called the play “worthy of their ambition,” and it was awarded the Pulitzer Prize of 1934 (Clurman 128). They repeated their success with two political plays by Clifford Odets, Awake and Sing! and Waiting for Lefty, both in 1935. They continued using their summer retreats for developing new plays and had gained a reputation for producing politically radical productions. Clurman befriended Kurt Weill when the German composer arrived in the United States to work on The Eternal Road. Although Weill was suddenly unemployed when the production stalled, he had fallen in love with America and wished to restart his career there. Upon meeting Weill, Clurman’s wife, Stella Adler, proposed that he write a musical for the Group similar to The Threepenny Opera. Weill eagerly accepted and proposed an American version of The Good Soldier Schweik, a Czech novel that had been staged in Berlin by Erwin Piscator. Clurman agreed and went to search for a playwright to collaborate with Weill. On a visit to Chapel Hill, Clurman learned of Green’s involvement in World War I, and he proposed the project to Green, emphasizing Green’s interest in music of the theatre (Clurman 183-4). Clurman’s intuition may not have been based on Weill and Green’s individual philosophies, but rather Green’s wartime experience and writing talent. Their resulting partnership, while not as tumultuous as the Brecht/Weill collaboration, managed to blend their separate theories in a common direction. Weill and Crawford traveled to North Carolina to work on the play with Green, but unfortunately their process is not well documented in either Green’s diary or Weill’s letters. In a letter to his wife, Weill described his impression of Green. “Paul Green makes a very good impression: refreshing, young, easy-going, almost like Zuckmayer.7 I

7 Carl Zuckmayer, author of Captain of Köpenick

think he’s going to be a good man for me” (Weill and Lenya 193). A few days later Weill sent two more letters to Lenya, describing their working relationship. The first, on May 6, 1936, reads, “Paul Green is a strange fellow, and I’m not quite sure whether he’s able to handle this project” (194). The very next day, however, Weill wrote again to Lenya. “Yesterday we made great progress in our work, and if he writes it the way Cherill [sic] and I have laid it out, it could turn out to be a fabulous play” (194). In addition to Schweik, they also looked at Georg Büchner’s Woyzeck and Carl Zuckmayer’s The Captain of Köpenick (Crawford 94). “We spent days at the local library reading newspaper articles about the period and even Dere Mable, a popular novel of letters from a private soldier. At night we talked, and soon a rough scenario began to evolve” (Crawford 94). They called the play Johnny Johnson, the name of their hero and the most common name among the enlisted men during the war. Weill and Crawford returned to New York with a rough script, and the play went into rehearsal that summer at the Group’s annual retreat. As the Group members were not singers, Weill had to coach them throughout rehearsals, and his manner of instruction lends evidence that he was continuing to explore gestic music. Robert Lewis, one of the actors, would later recall Weill’s method of teaching his songs. He would play a phrase with the notes, but you were not supposed to put yourself in a singing style – you were supposed to talk the notes. We who had a musical background just loved it because it had something other than psychology, which is only what Clurman and Strasberg were interested in. (Rizzo 50) Lewis’ description implies that Weill was focusing on the rhythm of the songs, rather than the melody, suggesting that he was still attempting to isolate the rhythmic center of the piece, one of the tools of crafting gestic music. Weill also created his own orchestrations, which not only saved money, but also allowed him to exert more control over the way he wished his music to sound (Crawford 94). The play had difficulty moving from rehearsals to their performance space, the Forty-Fourth Street Theatre, one of the largest on Broadway at the time and the only space available. Built in 1912, it was originally named the Weber and Fields’ Music Hall

and sat 1,468,8 which was much larger than they had anticipated. (Morrison 80-81). The play had been rehearsing in a small theatre, where it was “charming: informal, unpretentious and sweet” (Clurman, 188). In the new theatre the actor’s voices were diminished, and the sets looked “monstrous” (188), and apparently the designers and cast had difficulty adapting to the new space after rehearsing in a smaller, more intimate setting. Previews went badly with audiences walking out after five minutes; however, when the play actually opened, it garnered very positive audience feedback. The play received mixed critical reaction. Brooks Atkinson, critic for the New York Times, wrote the following review: [The play is] part fantasy, part musical satire, part symbolic poetry in the common interests of peace; and also, one is compelled to add, part good and part bad, since new forms cannot be created overnight. There are many interludes in Mr. Green’s work when both the satire and the idealism wither away to restless emptiness. Although Mr. Green is an honest and exultant poet, he is not a virtuoso theatre man. Having given the Broadway flaneur fair warning in that last sentence, this column proposes from this point on to celebrate a sincere and generally exalting attempt to put on the stage an imaginative portrait of recent history. (Sanders 255). Harold Clurman notes that the press was by and large complimentary but lacked the kind of business notice that attracts an audience. “Our Johnny Johnson press was critically favorable, but discouraged all except the cognoscenti from seeing it” (190). Critic Robert Benchley of The New Yorker also advocated the play a week after it opened. Since Johnny Johnson is the first imaginative and exciting entry in a season of old, dead-tired waxworks, I think it ought to be given a break or two. My God, if we don’t grab onto something really big when it comes

8 Out of the sixty existing theatres at the time, only thirteen theatres were bigger than the Forty-Fourth; the Winter Garden Theatre, the Hippodrome, The New Amsterdam Theatre, The Cosmopolitan Theatre, The Center Theatre, The Hollywood Theatre, The Erlanger Theatre (St. James), The Majestic Theatre, The Ziegfeld Theatre, The Broadway Theatre, The Earl Carroll Theatre, Jolsen’s Theatre, and The Palace Theatre. Of those, only six are still standing, and one is a church. The Manhattan Opera House was larger, but it was still under construction for The Eternal Road (Morrison).

along, even if it does have its flaws, the theatre may go right on as it has started this year. (Sanders 255). Both Atkinson and Benchley recognized that there was something special about Johnny Johnson, but their words were generally ignored. The play closed after sixty-eight performances, and while it was not a complete disaster, it compared unfavorably to other Group efforts. For example, Awake and Sing! ran for 185 performances in its first run and Waiting for Lefty ran for 144 (“The Group Theatre”). What went wrong with this production? The play was rehearsed in a hurry, songs were cut, and the stage was too big for the show to fill. Clurman remarks in his book The Fervent Years that the actors were unhappy with Lee Strasberg’s directing, a declaration supported by Robert Lewis’s earlier statement on Strasberg’s fascination with psychology. Green recorded his opinion of the Group’s methods in his diary: [Clurman] gets loose for a long hysterical harangue pointing out obvious little values in script, etc. etc. No wonder Group actors are so whipped down and full of psychoses - - listening to this sort of thing for five years. (Green Diary 226) Their dissatisfaction with the handling of the play led to dissent within the Group and added to the tension between Strasburg and Clurman. The failure of the play may be attributed to a mismatch between the piece and the artists staging it. It is entirely possible that Johnny Johnson was Weill’s attempt to craft gestic music, a style he had previously created only with Bertolt Brecht, without the necessary influence of its co-creator. Additionally, Strasberg and the Group Theatre’s strict adherence to Method Acting may have hindered their attempt to stage such an anti-realistic theory, resulting in a loss of direction.

Evolving Theories of Gestus: Musical, Lyrical, and Social

The term gestus is most commonly associated with Brecht, and it has been the source of much confusion for theatre students and scholars in that the German term has no direct English translation and, therefore, cannot be accurately defined in simple, concise terms. The meaning of gestus has changed or evolved as time has passed, further

compounding the matter. For example, Encyclopedia Britannica offers the rather imprecise translation of “attitude” for gestus, suggesting an external characteristic forcibly adopted and displayed for the benefit of others in order to conceal a conflicting state of being, rather than an external reflection of the individual state. In Received Truths, musician and scholar Kenneth Fowler states that, in German, gestus means the same as the term geste or “Gesture.” He continues by defining gestus as “expression” and “manner,” which “implies the outward manifestation of an inner condition” (27). Brechtian scholar John Willett offers a more precise definition of gestus: It is at once gesture and gist, attitude and point: one aspect of the relation between two people, studied singly, cut to essentials and physically or verbally expressed. It excludes the psychological, the subconscious, and the metaphysical unless they can be conveyed in concrete terms. (Willett 173) Whereas “attitude” implies a conscious tactic used either to conceal an opposite inner truth or to alter a relationship with another person, gestus is the representation of a character’s inner state of being, which the actor communicates through outward manifestations such as body language, vocal intonation, and facial expression. In his 19409 essay “Short Description of a New Technique of Acting which Produces an Alienation Effect,” Brecht explains that gestus is a quality primarily presented by actors. Everything to do with the emotions has to be externalized; that is to say, it must be developed into a gesture. The actor has to find a sensibly perceptible outward expression for his character’s emotions, preferably some action that gives away what is going on inside him. The emotion in question must be brought out, must lose all its restrictions so that it can be treated on a big scale. (139) The expression of gestus is not necessarily a “realistic” representation, but rather communicates the inner truth, demonstrating a pure, unfiltered emotion, which may take the form of an expressionistic or symbolic action or reaction. Brechtian scholar Kim Kowalke describes this physical manifestation of gestus as “the translation of dramatic emotion and individual characterization into a typical, reproducible physical realization”

9 Although written in 1940, the essay was published in Versuche in 1951.

(117). Therefore, the “physical realization” must take the form of a recognizable action that can signify to an audience a universal human behavior. Although this signification is primarily represented through the actor, the authors can also establish this signification as one method of storytelling through various methods. The terms lyrical gestus, musical gestus, and social gestus describe certain aspects of the overall concept. Lyrical gestus and musical gestus take the form of tactics and approaches that authors take to fashion this story, whereas social gestus becomes the particular goal of the whole. Gestus is much more than simple gesture and physical expression. Brecht, in his essay “On Gestic Music,” wrote that language itself could be gestic. “A language is gestic when it is grounded in a gest and conveys particular attitudes adopted by the speaker towards other men” (104). The language then transcends the communication between individuals and expresses a character’s personal prejudices and attitudes. Gestus in that manner originates with the playwright rather than the actor and director. The playwright creates the inner voice of the character and expresses that voice through word and phrase choice. It is up to the actor and director to recognize and interpret these choices and communicate the gest to the audience through vocal intonation, pitch, and the deliberate placement of pauses within the line. This lyrical gestus enables the playwright to maintain control over the demonstration of gest, in effect minimizing potential misinterpretation by the actor and director. Brecht offers an example in his essay “On Rhymeless Verse with Irregular Rhythm.” Early in his career Brecht directed a production of Christopher Marlowe’s Edward II and was forced to handle iambic pentameter. He had two translations available: an earlier one by German playwright and Shakespearean scholar Ludwig Tieck (1773-1853) and a contemporary translation by Hans Rothe (1894-1963). Brecht felt the actors displayed greater force when reading the older, rockier translation by Tieck than when they read the newer, more fluid Rothe version. He cites the following passages, re- translated into English, as an example. First the iambic rhythm found in the smoother translation of Rothe:10 I heard the drumbeats ring across the swamp Horses and weapons sank before my eyes

10 Translated back to English by John Willett.

And now my head is turning. (116) Secondly, Brecht shows the same lines in his final adaptation of the Tieck translation: After those drumbeats, the swamp gulping Weapons and horses, all turns In my mother’s son’s head. (116) The difference is astonishing. The former passage is almost perfectly iambic with each line encompassing a single phrase. It reads smoothly and conveys a higher train of thought. By comparison, the second example does not follow any rhythmic structure and phrases are spread over lines of poetry. It reads disjointedly, and Brecht felt that this demonstrated the inner conflict of the character. “This gave the jerky breath of a man running, and such syncopation did more to show the speaker’s conflicting feelings” (116). The gest can be established with the very words of the author and are not entirely dependant on the actor. Musically, gestus functions in a similar fashion as lyrical gestus. Instead of the actor creating a physical realization of the character’s inner life, the composer expresses the character’s inner being through musical traits such as rhythm, melody, harmony and style, much like the author expresses the gest with the written word. While the character may be singing about his professed feelings and ideas on a given subject, the music will reflect the true inner workings of the character’s relationship to the subject matter. The concept of gestic music originated with composer Kurt Weill during their famed collaboration in the late 1920s. Willett credits Weill with being the first to formulate the concept of gestus, although it would later become more closely associated with Brecht and epic theatre. In his 1929 essay “Concerning the Gestic Character of Music,” Weill seems to oppose the Wagnerian idea that music can better represent the human condition through an emotional response than words. “Music lacks all capacity for psychological or characterizing effect” (492). Weill continues to state that music can instead reflect the gestus of the character. It can even create a type of fundamental gestus which prescribes a definite attitude for the actor and eliminates any doubt or misunderstanding about the respective incident. In the ideal case, it can fix the gestus so powerfully that a false representation of the relevant action is no longer

possible…Music has the potential to define the basic tone and fundamental gestus of an event to the extent that at least an incorrect interpretation can be avoided, while it still allows the actor abundant opportunity for deployment of his own individuality of style. (492) There is an apparent contradiction in Weill’s statement. How can music lack “all capacity for psychological or characterizing effect,” and at the same time prescribe “a definite attitude for the actor,” which could be considered a characterizing effect? (492) Perhaps Weill was saying that, on its own, music can not have a characterizing effect, but rather the music must be placed within a specific context, and it is only through that context that music can demonstrate the gestus. Weill’s statement also demonstrates how a composer can maintain control over the actor’s interpretation in the same manner the playwright can. As the actor’s physical realizations of the internal reality of his character must take the form of a recognizable action, so must gestic music take the form of a musical idiom that can be clearly identified. The musical style must have a significant relevance to the audience. Without that significance, the audience can not make connections based on their own assumptions and thus may come to conclusions contrary to the author’s approach. Weill’s method of creating gestic music utilized popular musical styles, such as jazz and the blues, as well as dance forms like the tango and foxtrot. Throughout Weill’s career, he used these dance rhythms to communicate the gestic aspect of his characters. He would isolate a specific aspect of the rhythm, a distinct combination unique to the particular genre, what Kowalke calls the “identifying rhythmic kernel,” and create a musical structure based upon that specific characteristic (118). The prominence of the musical structure may vary. It can be either an understated use of the rhythm or the use of an entire song in the given style. Weill states that the composer has control over the various rhythmic devices found in music and can manipulate them to the desired effect. First of all, the gestus is expressed in a rhythmic fixing of the text. Music has the capacity to note the accents of language, the distribution of short and long syllables, and above all, pauses. Thereby, the sources of the most serious errors in the treatment of the text are eliminated from the stage. (493)

As an example of this musical invention, Kowalke cites the song “Zuhälterballade” (Tango Ballad) from The Threepenny Opera. The number is a duet between Macheath the criminal and Jenny the prostitute set in a brothel. Kowalke describes their relationship as “the relationship between a man and a woman who are at the same time both attracted to and repelled by the fascination of a love-hate relationship” (119). By this time the tango had become associated with passionate, animal sexuality as compared to the dignified elegance of the waltz. Weill uses the phrase “rhythmically predetermined music,” suggesting the style was chosen specifically for its rhythmic qualities and what those qualities represent (493). Gestus is then expressed through the essential tango rhythm, which signifies to the audience both passionate lust and cheap sexual tastelessness, thereby personifying the characters’ inner conflicts. In this case, the song is a reflection of a personal relationship between two people rather than between the individual and society The idea of gestus is often associated with describing the relationship between the individual and society; however, sometime in the mid 1930s,11 Brecht wrote that gestus did not have to be exclusively social. Not all gests are social gests. The attitude of chasing away a fly is not yet a social gest, though the attitude of chasing away a dog may be one, for instance if it comes to represent a badly dressed man's continual battle against watchdogs. (“On Gestic Music” 104) In this early essay, “On Gestic Music,” Brecht clearly delineates the difference between gestus and social gestus. A social gest is a physical manifestation that represents a societal interaction. It is at once symbolic, allegoric, and relative. To use Brecht’s example, the dog is the personification of an abstract concept: the monitoring of the individual by the state. The resulting action of chasing away the dog therefore becomes the outward expression of the individual’s desire to be free of external surveillance. However, the communication of that expression is entirely dependant on the ability of the audience to associate the dog with state-supported surveillance. If the audience does not establish that initial connection, the action will not represent the inner life of the character

11 The essay “On Gestic Music,” is not dated. Editor and translator John Willett places the essay in the mid 1930s.

through the gestic action. If the audience establishes a different significance to the dog, they will create a different relationship not envisioned by the playwright. The dog could also conceivably represent the media, and therefore the expression becomes the individual’s desire to be free of criticism. In either case it is only through a specific context does gestus become social. In Fowler’s Received Truths, he points out that the meaning of gestus is inconsistent in the writings of Brecht. Initially, Brecht had said that a social agenda was not a necessary element of gestus. However, as he refined his theory, Brecht began to use the term “gestus” only when gest had a specific social context. In all other cases, he refers to it as “gesture.” Fowler claims that “social gestus” is a redundant phrase, as gestus is social by its very nature. If it illustrates a relationship between people, can gestus even exist without a social context? For if social being does indeed determine consciousness (and therefore gesture as well), then it would appear to be impossible to hold that view and also maintain that there are gestus which are not social. (33) In addition, Fowler examines Brecht’s later writings. In 1948, Brecht published “A Short Organum for the Theatre.” The realm of attitudes adopted by the characters towards one another is what we call the realm of gest. Physical attitudes, tone of voice and facial expression are all determined by a social gest: the characters are cursing, flattering, instructing one another, and so on. The attitudes that people adopt towards one another include even those attitudes that would appear to be quite private, such as the utterances of physical pain in an illness, or of religious faith. (198) In this essay, cause and effect have been reversed. Whereas Brecht once maintained that social gestus was the outward expression of a social relationship, he came to believe in 1948 that, as Fowler explains, “the social gestus is precisely that system of relations which before was the precondition of social gestus. Social gestus becomes, if we combine the two statements, its own precondition, which is a logical impossibility” (35). Fowler’s statements suggest an incongruity in Brecht’s writing that may be the result of an evolving theory. In ten years, his ideas would have understandably changed as a result of

practical application and, as such, Brecht’s writings should not be seen as a contradiction, but rather a refinement. The current concept, as it is understood in modern theory, is derived mainly from Brecht’s later writings and the writings of Brechtian scholars. For example, music scholar David N. Stoffel, in an essay entitled “A Discussion of Gestus and Social Implications in Kurt Weill’s and Berthold Brecht’s Opera The Rise and Fall of the City of Mahagonny,” refers to gestus as “morals or lessons intended by the composer and librettist” (27). Stoffel isn’t necessarily in error; however, he is clearly using “gestus” to mean social gestus, which would coincide with Brecht’s 1948 writings. Yet the contradiction can be easily explained by interpreting Brecht’s use of the word “social” to mean “socio-political.” Politics are always social, but social interaction is not exclusively political. If gestus is social by its very nature, then Brecht’s social gestus becomes specific to moments where it reflects a political attitude. Gestic music would therefore follow the same rules as social gestus. Like language, gestic music can be social when it is within a certain context. Brecht wrote, “The pomp of the Fascists, taken at its face value, has a hollow gest, the gest of mere pomp, a featureless phenomenon… Only when the strutting takes place over corpses do we get the social gest of Fascism” (“On Gestic Music,”105). In this instance, the music represents the Fascists’ inner pride at the extermination of others. Without the context of performing a march over corpses, the music only represents pride. Such a situation would be gestic, but it cannot be described as social gestus without the presence of the corpses. An ideal example of Weill’s musical and social gestus can be found in his most famous song, “The Ballad of Mackie Messer” (“Mack the Knife”). In order to be socially gestic, the song must contain a specific combination of music, lyric, and presentation. The lyrics describe a vicious individual, a man who indulges in rape, arson, and murder. The form of the song is a Moriat, which was a style of German folk ballad sung about famous robbers, celebrating their misdeeds. The harsh lyrics are placed in juxtaposition to a jazzy blues melody accompanied by a carnival-like rhythm. The gest becomes Macheath’s inner delight in his violent actions, yet it becomes specifically societal when presented with Macheath’s appearance, as he is traditionally costumed as a bourgeois gentleman with a top hat and blue silk tie. Macheath comes to represent the bourgeois, and the vicious actions described in the song then become associated with that social class.

Hence, the bourgeois either perpetrate or condone rape, arson and murder. By displaying this social gest to a primarily middle-class audience, Brecht essentially holds a mirror to the audience saying, “This is you.” Is Weill’s music gestic or simply semiotic? Semiotics refers to the human ability to communicate through the use of signs. A sign can be anything, such as a word, a movement, an image, or anything that represents the object, which can be physical or conceptual. The sign and the object are linked by association and create meaning. Bilateral semiotics is the basis of human communication through the creation of the sign by one party and interpretation of the sign by a second party, when both parties understand the meaning of the sign or signs in the same manner. To use a musical example, if the object is the idea of violent sex, then the sign can be a specific combination of notes in a tango rhythm. The meaning, the association of the object and sign, is created by the listener, so when the tango rhythm is heard, it is interpreted as violent sex. By this example, Weill’s music is semiotic. However, semiosis has a very broad definition, for almost every type of communication is semiotic. Therefore, is every form of theatrical music also gestic? No, because gestus is the reflection of the inner state of being of one or more characters, and not everything signifies that quality. It is more accurate to say that semiosis is our inherent method of communication, and that gestus purposely takes advantage of that very nature by exploiting the human capacity to interpret meaning from signs. A sign may have many different signifiers, and gestus relies on the juxtaposition of signifiers in order to create a second level of associations in that the context of how the sign is used determines the meaning. Semiosis is a natural human process, while gestus is a specific method directing that process to demonstrate a condition. As such, musical and lyrical gestus is more than merely good characterization or writing, but rather a method to make a social statement, a weapon in the writer’s arsenal of tools. Certainly not every note in Johnny Johnson is a reflection of a character’s inner state of being, nor every word that Brecht wrote is a peek into a character’s state of mind, but they used their gestic theories from time to time as a manner of telling their stories. There is, however, a contradiction between Weill theories and those of Brecht. Weill’s writings clearly state that the gest is merely a reflection of a pre-existing

condition, and that the music is a tool to present that condition. Brecht’s later writings assert that the pre-existing condition is the gest and that tools like music and gestic language convey that condition. Two divergent paths are clearly established. Although Brecht and Weill seemed to agree on the nature of gestus during their time in Germany, their separation in 1933 created two evolutionary paths as each man had his own idea about what it was. Brecht wrote about the function of gestus and how the lyricist could create the gest within the written word, whereas Weill wrote on how it could be created within the music and thereby controlled. As demonstrated, Brecht’s theory evolved to the point where gestus exclusively contained a social context and became the starting point upon which actions are based. Weill saw it as the end result, reflecting the pre-existing condition. But how did his theories evolve once he was forced to flee Europe? Did he continue to write gestic music or did he simply drop the form in favor of a Broadway style? Was he able to practice his theories without Brecht to create the lyrical gest and the context for his music? Perhaps he felt that any competent writer would be able to provide him with the lyrical content he had grown accustomed to, and he attempted to work in his usual manner with his first American collaborator, Paul Green.

CHAPTER 2 THE MUSIC OF JOHNNY JOHNSON: DETERMINING GESTUS

Songs of War and Peace

Gestus is used to reflect the authors’ anti-war sentiment from the first scene; indeed the very first action in the play is a gestic action. In the stage directions the mayor “holds up one lean hand in a gesture that looks like a combination raspberry and Fascist salute, and begins his speech” (5)12. The direction itself is conflicting. A raspberry is usually considered to be an insulting gesture, but one that is made with the mouth and not with the hands. The combination of a Fascist salute while giving a raspberry is absurd at best, but if one were to interpret the attitude of the mayor based solely on this gesture, he would be described as a man who both shows contempt for his constituents and the willingness to suppress their liberties for his own gain—the opposite of the bumbling fool he appears to be. In addition, the very setting is a gestic statement in that the placement of the actors, dressed in dark clothes with the men holding their hats over their hearts, as well as the design of the monument, described as a “funeral obelisk-like” structure, creates images that one traditionally associates with funerals (3). When it is revealed that the architect of the monument is a tombstone-maker, it becomes clear that Green and company are announcing or mourning the death of peace. The primary song in the opening scene, “Democracy’s Call,” is an ideal example of Weill’s gestic theory, in that the music reflects the crowd’s shifting attitude not only through changes in rhythm as well as changes in key, mode, and accompaniment. It follows a strophic pattern with three verses followed by a chorus, and each verse is accompanied by a different rhythmic accompaniment. The first verse is sung by Minnie Belle and is about George Washington. Though Washington did fighting stand

12 All citations are from the 1936 Samuel French version unless otherwise noted.

Embattled in the fray, My children, ‘twas that this great land Should know a happier day (8) The rhythm is a very straightforward march with no syncopation, and the melody generally sticks to the tonic scale, while the harmony contains mostly major chords (Fig 1.). This gives the tune a sound almost like the song of an elementary school child. In his notes, Green originally envisioned Minnie Belle to be a schoolteacher with a “schoolbook romanticism of war” (Folder 3063). Therefore, Minnie Belle sings the Democracy March as a school song, gestically reflecting her absolutist viewpoint of the war and in effect, representing people who see the war in absolute terms without any first-hand knowledge of warfare. As the song moves toward its chorus, it changes keys from B-flat major to E- flat major. This is the only verse where the key changes, and it remains in E-flat for the rest of the song. The chorus is a sharp descending progression using the notes in the major triad in the first measure shifting from the major tonic chord to a slightly dissonant, yet not unpleasant, chord in the second measure (Fig 2.). The strong chords and fixed rhythm denote an anthem such as can be sung at football games and town hall meetings and characterizes the crowd as having a collective mentality. When “Democracy’s Call” moves to the second verse, its rhythm changes. The bass line stresses the first and third beats with an eighth-note pick-up, while the treble responds with a staccato burst of major triads, resulting in a Sousa-like march. However, the chords suggest a change from the bright major key to a combination of diminished chords and major chords. (Fig 3.) The result is an unusual combination, ultimately darker while the graphic lyrical content describes Lincoln. And then with frightful carnage swept With red and direful gleam Across our land ‘twas Lincoln kept The vision and the dream… (8) The gloomier music reflects a much darker conflict. The rhythm remains constant throughout both the verse and chorus, but changes once again in the third verse which features Woodrow Wilson as its subject. The accompaniment is simply chords played on the first and fourth beat of each measure, implying a more solemn state. However the

chords change to minor and diminished chords, producing a more sinister sound. (Fig 4.) Here, Weill modifies his gestic theory. While the rhythm changes throughout the song, each variation could easily be described as parade music, the rhythmic kernel of the piece signifying to the audience a patriotic march. At the same time, Weill cleverly adjusts the feel of the song. As the melody remains the same, the chords underneath adjust from a positive major key, to an increasingly disturbing sound. The result is a sinister sound creeping into a child’s song. The gest could be interpreted as blind patriotism supporting darker and morally questionable actions. Grandpa Joe’s retelling of the battle of Chickamauga13 Hill interrupts the song, which doesn’t resume until the declaration of war has been announced, but once it does, the rhythm is quick and lively, resembling the sound of a snare drum while marching. The quality of the piece is once again major, this time in the key of D major. There is very little dissonance; even the dissonant chords from the first verse are gone, replaced by a simple A-Major-7th chord (Fig 5.). Now the music reflects the full-blown enthusiasm of the assembled mass, for the subject is now war, and there is no longer any ambiguity. Johnny, of course, does not join in (15). The authors demonstrate the mindless, mob mentality that overcomes people when patriotism inspires unquestioning agreement to a cause. Johnny, as the lone soul refusing to sing, is also the only citizen who questions the validity of the war. Johnny’s lack of participation is in itself a reflection of his difference of opinion. By contrast, Anguish sings along with the crowd but doesn’t wish to personally go to war. Anguish is smart enough to know that public opposition of a cause in the midst of mob mentality is dangerous to his business and his political aspirations. In this case, Anguish is shown as smarter and more cunning than Johnny, for Johnny is open with his thoughts, regardless of how unpopular they might be, while Anguish tells people what they want to hear. Anguish’s actions during the first scene, may not appear to be gestic, for they don’t reflect his true inner state, but they do reflect his relationship to his fellow man in that he goes along with the crowd to avoid being ostracized.

13 The Battle of Chickamauga, September 19, 1863, was a Confederate victory, placing the location of the first act, not surprisingly, in the South. However Chickamauga refers to the nearby creek, not the hill, which has the unfortunate name of Snodgrass. Perhaps Green felt “Chickamauga” sounded better than “Snodgrass.” It also doesn’t explain why the number is entitled “The Battle of San Juan Hill,” which took place during the Spanish-American War several years later.

The Traditional Waltz in Johnny Johnson

A key component of Weill’s gestic theory is using well-known rhythms and song styles to create a recognizable association for the audience, and one of the most popular musical styles of the day was the waltz, a traditional musical staple borrowed from the German rural dances of the eighteenth century. Later, as it become accepted in the courts during the nineteenth century, it denoted sensuousness as a result of the dancers’ close proximity to one another, and it provided a stark contrast to the courtly dances that minimized contact. The twirl of the dance requires the woman to hold tightly onto her partner and led to a romantic notion of being swept away, which became associated with love and romance (“The Waltz”). Weill’s “Oh Heart of Love” was certainly not the first Viennese Waltz to appear on the Broadway stage, nor was it the last. Audiences were well accustomed to them in 1936. They would have expectations and associations about the waltz before entering the theater, and Weill and Green used that expectation to establish a storybook romanticism for their leading lady. Weill recreates the standard waltz rhythm: a strong downbeat followed by two weaker beats in ¾ time. As with “Democracy’s Call” Weill begins the piece with major and minor chords, but as the song progresses he favors minor and diminished chords, allowing the song to alter its meaning throughout. It is a change that can also be seen in Green’s lyrics. At first glance, it is simply the story of a young woman waiting for her love to return. Oh heart of love, The soul of all my yearning, Come back to me, My days are filled with pain. (32) However as the song progresses, the lyrics take on a more pessimistic view. Every footfall on the floor, Every tip-tap on the stair— Open wide I fling the door, You are never standing there. (33)

Finally, at the end of the song, Minnie Belle’s words have evolved from lonely to pessimistic, and finally, to morose. Shadows of night Across my path are falling, Frightened and lone I die apart from you. (34) The lyrics and darkening sound of “Oh Heart of Love” demonstrate a state of mind that doesn’t quite match an idyllic love song. In the context of the play, Johnny and Minnie Belle know the song from one of her books. Johnny mentions it in order to describe his feelings when he is apart from her, but Minnie Belle knows it by heart. The question of why a woman in love would sing such a depressing song gives the audience a clue in determining her attitude toward Johnny. Green previously established that Minnie Belle has an academic zeal towards war, and perhaps she has a similar view of love as well. Minnie Belle seems to think that a lover going to war to die tragically has a romantic quality to it to the point where she won’t even speak to Johnny unless he enlists. It is an attitude that could be created from reading material that has been watered down to absolutes, as many schoolbooks can be. The lessons she has learned have all been presented as facts with little room for complication. As such, her ideas of love may have come through literature. She may feel that true romantic heroes would die for love, like Romeo. Weill projects that fatalistic romanticism into her song.

Gestus through the Tango in “Captain Valentine’s Song”

If one of the basic tenets of gestic music is a previously established rhythmic form signifying a specific mood or quality to an audience, then the tango-rhythm of “Captain Valentine’s Song” is an ideal example of that tenet. The tango is believed to originate from the brothels of Argentina, combining Spanish, African, and Native American influences, and the subjects of early tangos usually consisted of duels between men or the relationship between prostitute and pimp (“Tango: A Dance, a Culture, a Way of Life, The”). Although the tango became a part of the mainstream in the early twentieth century, its qualities remained connected to its sensual, almost brutal origins. “The lyrics

of the ‘tango-song’… continued to express views of love and life in highly pessimistic, fatalistic and often pathologically dramatic terms” (Béhague 74). Like the waltz, the genre is associated with a specific connotation, in this case passionate and illicit sex, and as such it is ideal to express Captain Valentine. Green describes Valentine in the cast of characters as “formerly a movie stand-in” when first introduced. He is reading a lurid sex-story from a pulp magazine— the source of his lyrics, and in scenes that were later cut, he is attempting to woo a prostitute. Therefore, the tango is an appropriate choice to reflect his personality. The “pathologically dramatic terms” previously mentioned would suit a man who fashions himself as a movie stand-in, wanting to appear on camera but acting only when it is off, and the lurid sexuality appeals to the romanticized version of sex he enjoys and tries to procure. Although the song starts in scene three, Weill reprised it for every scene in which Valentine appears. The words “Tempo di Tango” appear on the vocal score, giving the scholar an idea of the song’s rhythm. However, the audience does not have the luxury of reading the score, and therefore Weill crafted an easily recognizable tango rhythm. Latin American music scholar Gerard Béhague, in The New Grove Dictionary of Music and Musicians, defines the tango rhythm as either a dotted eighth and a sixteenth followed by a pair of eighth notes or a sixteenth, an eighth, and another sixteenth followed by a pair of eighth notes. Weill’s song follows the second example, yet relies on both staves to create the rhythm. Rhythmically the B-flat quarter note on the bass staff sounds like an eighth note when followed by the first triad on the treble staff. The second triad is staccato while the third note, a quarter note, also sounds like an eighth note. Notice that the group of eighth notes on the bass clef is not noted as a triplet, meaning that the first note of the trio comes halfway through the last quarter note on the treble clef (Fig 6.). The rhythm then becomes a slower version of Béhague’s second example, with the final eighth notes doubled but not varying from their rhythm. The very next measure follows the Béhague’s second rhythm exactly, with the dotted half note sounding like a rhythmic eighth note. Weill doesn’t confine the rhythmic element to the accompaniment, but interchanges it with the melody in providing the identifying rhythmic kernel. When the melody is sung, it assumes the rhythm from the accompaniment. The bass staff maintains the beat while the treble, paralleling the melody, matches Béhague’s example with slight

variation. Notice in Figure 7 how the first note combination of Béhague’s example is repeated three times. Also observe how the accompaniment resumes the tango rhythm while the singer holds a dotted half note through the next measure, and then immediately allows the melody to resume the standard rhythm. The rest of the song, including reprises, repeats these variations, and, as a result, Valentine becomes associated with the qualities of the tango: lurid sex and violence. As such, Valentine’s song foreshadows his actions later on in the deleted scenes that depict him wooing a prostitute and sending Johnny to his potential death for malicious reasons.

The Missing Scenes and Song

The casual reader would not be aware that two scenes were cut from the published versions of Johnny Johnson. In the 1937 Samuel French edition, Act One, scene three, ends with Johnny being accepted into the military after he single-handedly takes on two men who manhandle him. Scene four follows with Johnny on the deck of a ship in New York Harbor, sailing to France. However, this arrangement does not reflect the original Broadway production. The program from the original run reads “A camp drill-ground. A week later” (Johnny Johnson: A Legend. Program, 3060A). The original Broadway production contained two scenes that were omitted for publication. Evidence suggests they were performed in New York, not only by the program listing, but also by a letter to Paul Green from F. Cowles Strickland, who was producing the play in Washington. “One thing that is bothering me is the absence of the drilling scene which I saw in New York, the music of which is in the score, but the scene is cut from the printed play. Is it your preference that the scene be omitted?” (Strickland 446). Unfortunately, Green did not respond in writing, nor did he indicate in his diary why the scenes were left out, only that he was making revisions. The Paul Green collection at the University of North Carolina in Chapel Hill contains a copy of the script with Green’s penciled in notes, and this may be the rough copy sent to Green by Samuel French. The scenes in question are marked through with a large “X,” and it is obvious that, while these scenes were a part of the original production, Green did not wish to publish them (Green, Notes, Folder 3061B). In addition, the North Carolina collection also contains an undated copy of Weill’s score,

which includes a missing song, “The West Pointer,” in addition to a reprise of Captain Valentine’s tango, confirming Strickland’s letter (Weill, Johnny Johnson. Unpublished score, Folder 3061A). The deleted scene begins with a musical combination of traditional army songs. “You’re in the Army Now,” “First Call,” and “Reveille” are performed during the blackout between scene changes. As the lights come up, we are introduced to Johnny’s drill sergeant, Sgt. Jackson, putting Johnny through his paces. Johnny is not adjusting to military life well, and Jackson’s patience is wearing thin. “Why the hell do you do everything backwards?” (Johnny Johnson: A Legend. Unpublished script, Folder 3061B, 40). Interestingly, Johnny is left-handed, and it is difficult for him to conform. Jackson singsongs a patter-like list of the things that he has tried to impart to Johnny. How to load and aim and fire – Fire by volley, at will – by clip, Close range, effective and long – To suspend and cease firing, To use cover and break cover, To assemble and dismiss – (Johnny Johnson: A Legend. Unpublished script, Folder 3061B, 44)14 They are interrupted by Captain Valentine’s return, which is announced by the reprise of his tango. A woman listed only as “voluptuous street Doll” holding a dozen roses accompanies him (Johnny Johnson: A Legend. Unpublished script, Folder 3061B, 44). After inquiring about Johnson, Valentine informs Jackson that they are about to disembark for France, then exits to his tent with the Doll in tow. Jackson and the Doll silently signal one another, letting the audience know that there is something between them. Johnny is excited to go to France, but Jackson has no intention of sending him. He places his Corporal in charge of the squad while, using the same words as Captain Valentine, he excuses himself, stating that he has “a few small routine matters to attend to up at my tent” (Johnny Johnson: A Legend. Unpublished script, Folder 3061B, 46).

14 Although omitted from the 1937 version, Sergeant Jackson’s patter-song appears in the 1971 version as a brief interlude between the scene at Aggie’s house and the scene in the Recruitment office. Green leaves a note that reads, “In the original Broadway production this bit scene was omitted” (32). However the scene appears in the program.

Scene five takes place an hour later on the bayonet run where a young lieutenant commands the men in a training exercise. “Contrasting with the seraphic innocence of his face is the bad-boy song that pours hoarsely from his tender lips” (Johnny Johnson: A Legend. Unpublished script, Folder 3061B, 47). That song is labeled in the unpublished score as the “West Pointer.”15 While Johnny is on guard duty, Valentine encounters Jackson, and both men are holding the Doll’s roses. Jackson is holding four whereas Valentine is only holding one, demonstrating to the audience that Jackson has had sex with the Doll four times whereas Valentine has only once. Valentine realizes that Jackson is four times the lover that he is, but instead of ordering a court-martial, he sends Jackson to France and, most likely, his death. The Doll returns and tries to engage Johnny in conversation. When Johnny responds that he’s not allowed to speak to civilians, she replies, “I’m not a civilian. I’m a wh-r – a camp worker” (Johnny Johnson: A Legend. Unpublished script, Folder 3061B, 53). She then offers Johnny roses – at two dollars apiece. Johnny refuses, however, for his heart still remains with Minnie Belle. The Doll gives the remaining seven roses to Johnny before she exits, believing that she may see him later. When Valentine and Jackson return, they notice the flowers and assume that Johnny has slept with the Doll seven times. As they have just been given the order to head to France, Valentine and Jackson, in their jealousy, are more than happy to send Johnny to meet his death. “Johnson, we’re going to let the Germans have the pleasure of cutting your guts out” (Johnny Johnson: A Legend. Unpublished script, Folder 3061B, 55). Green eventually decided to omit these scenes from the play, perhaps in an effort to streamline the narrative. Because Johnny is already in the army at the end of the third scene, the audience can simply assume that he has experienced basic training in the time between his recruitment and his deployment, and consequently, the subplot involving the Doll is superfluous to the advancement of the story. However, to determine the incidents of gestus within the play, Weill and Green’s original stage work must be examined regardless of Green’s later edit. Green’s stage directions in Scene four specify movement that reveals the gestic quality within the character of Sgt. Jackson, who exhibits a much more relaxed attitude

15 Although this song did not make the 1956 recording with Burgess Meredith, it can be found on the 1997 Elektra album Music for Johnny Johnson.

than is traditionally seen in a drill sergeant. While Jackson does belittle Johnny at every turn, he is given lines like, “Just try it once, angel, for my sake” (Johnny Johnson: A Legend. Unpublished script, Folder 3061C, 42). Unless bitterly dripping with sarcasm, as they are, such words are usually not expressed by a drill sergeant. However, his physical movements are described as “in Krazy Kat style” (Johnny Johnson: A Legend. Unpublished script, Folder 3061C, 39), meaning arms akimbo with hands on the small of the back.16 Green denotes a physical gesture identified with George Herriman’s long- running comic strip character, which was very popular at the time and would therefore be familiar to the audience. As such, the gesture, an ape of a character deemed “crazy” would communicate the same qualities to the audience. In conjunction with Jackson’s uncommon casualness in his job as drill instructor, Green, through the qualities he prescribes, creates a character of potential mental instability. Green’s stage directions describe gestic actions throughout the scene both to show that Johnny is physically out of sync with army life and to compare him with the young lieutenant. He has difficulty with the drills, and he holds his rifle awkwardly. He even marches out of step when his squad exits. During the bayonet practice Johnny is physically unable to skewer an effigy of a German solder and, when on guard duty he holds his rifle on the left side rather than his right, demonstrating his own individuality. In his own excitement, he even bumps into barbed wire. Johnny is clearly out of his element. His inability to master military movements is the reflection of a pacifist living in a military situation. Johnny simply shouldn’t be there, and his movements demonstrate as much. Green also creates juxtaposition with the young Lieutenant, who has the face of an angel, yet fancies himself a brutal killer, and the lyrics of his song suggest that he is a bully. He can hold himself in any fight, but only with his weapons. Without them he is weak, and Johnny easily defeats him with the simple ruse of throwing sand in his eyes. The Lieutenant, in turn, sobs like a child and must be mothered by an inferior officer. This use of gestus reflects Brecht’s original theories in that the gestic action is one that is created by the actor, but Green exercises a bit of control over the gestic action by specifying in his directions actions that can reveal a character’s inner state. As such,

16 George Herriman’s “Krazy Kat” ran in Hearst newspapers from 1914 to 1944. Krazy Kat was in love with Ignatz Mouse who would pelt Krazy with bricks (“Krazy Kat”).

Green continues the anti-war statement. If Johnny is the common man, as described in the title, and if this common man is out of sync with war, then war, by logical extension, is not a natural state for the common man. While Weill’s written theories advocate a rhythm that can be easily identified by the audience, the same idea can be extended to a melody. The scene begins with themes associated with military life, specifically the trumpet performing “Reveille,” “First Call,” and “You’re in the Army Now.” Isham Jones and Trey Taylor wrote, “You’re in the Army Now” specifically for World War I (“Traveling Through Time with Arnett Howard and Ohio’s Greatest Musicians”). While these themes are played by brass in their real- world setting, Weill further varies the sound of the piece by interpolating “First Call,” the bugle call associated with assembly that precedes “Reveille,” played in counterpoint on a banjo (“Bugle Call Sequence”). Not only does Weill incorporate music with direct associations to the military, but with direct references to World War I as well. By using a very specific and familiar melody associated with the Army during World War I, Weill establishes the scene immediately. Although the music does not reflect the inner state of the character’s emotion, and therefore is not gestic, it does reflect the lifestyle in which Johnny has found himself. The lyrics to “The West Pointer” are not included in the 1937 Samuel French edition. The song, in its entirety consists of two verses. In the first verse, the lieutenant introduces his background I first felt the urge to splurge Through my childing bosom surge One Christmas day when I found in my sock a toy gun. Hip I marched, hooray I swagged, Mother smiled and beamed and bragged And kissed and called me her little cock Napoleon. -- So I grew – grew – grew – in manly might, And I owe it most to mother, she was right. For by chasing girls and boys With my frightful warlike toys,

Whoop, I learned to hold my own in any fight. (Johnny Johnson: A Legend. Unpublished script, Folder 3061B 47) He expounds upon his education in the second verse, and this time, the verse continues for an extra six lines. Then she sent me to West Point Where I toughened brawn and joint, Growing hard to fierce and wild to meet the foe. There the teachers did inspire Me with patriotic fire – Till I thought I was the child of Alamo I’m the child – child – child of Alamo, Bunker Hill and Gettysburg the same ditto. U.S. Grant and R.E. Lee Trained at West Point just like me; Some day too I’ll also be a great hero. Now I’ll yell a mighty yell, Saying give the Boches hell – Old Auguste and Fritz and Karl and Johann too. For remember they are swine From the mudflats of the Rhine Killers all – with snoot and snarl – they may kill you. (Johnny Johnson: A Legend. Unpublished script, Folder 3061B 47-8) Essentially, the Lieutenant is a bully. He received a toy gun for Christmas and spent his days terrorizing the neighborhood. By invoking the names of Lee and Grant, Green suggests the bully quality in them as well. However, the Lieutenant is only as good as his weapon. Johnny easily defeats him with dirt to the eyes, and the Lieutenant immediately leaves to report him, like a child who torments others on the playground but immediately runs to a parent when he does not get his way. He is a man who is all pretense, lacking any true courage or cunning, and his sobs are the reflection of a preschooler who has his toys taken away from him and needs to be comforted.

In keeping with his theory of using familiar musical styles, Weill chose a fast foxtrot for “The West Pointer,” a syncopated rhythm in 4/4 time, music that could easily accommodate a dance such as a Quickstep or a Peabody. Named after American vaudevillian Harry Fox, the foxtrot is a simple dance that can be performed to almost any music in 4/4 time and is commonly associated with ragtime (“Notes on Dance Types”). It is a distinctly American musical creation. Weill notes that the piece should be played “Allegro Molto” (very fast), so it may be too quick for a foxtrot, which favors slow Big Band music. The first half of the measure is swung— a dotted eighth note before a sixteenth note followed by another dotted eighth and sixteenth. The second half of the measure is even eighth notes. (Fig 8.) In the same manner as “Captain Valentine’s Song,” the rhythm is displayed through the melody and then assumed by the accompaniment when the singer is silent or holding a note. The song is structured in two verses with the beginning of the verses using minor chords; however, when the second part of the song, “Chasing girls and boys,” occurs, the chords become major ones, demonstrating his delight in his work. (Fig 9.) If he is a bully, he is one who derives pleasure from his actions. Weill, Green, and company turn officers such as the West Pointer, Captain Valentine and Sgt. Jackson into negative characters through the combination of Green’s descriptive stage directions and Weill’s associations through certain musical styles. They used their writing skills to demonstrate the character of the officers as morally corrupt individuals. They are making a statement about the type of man who actively participates in warfare, continuing their anti-war commentary through portraying the officers as viciously mad individuals.

The Goddess’ Song—Gestus Through Icons

Green uses visual images within a specific context, as Weill utilized familiar musical styles, to create associations. This type of visual gestus works along the same theoretical lines as musical gestus. The authors present a familiar, recognizable image that has a specific meaning, such as the funeral obelisk in Scene one, a pop culture image, or a national landmark like the Statue of Liberty in Scene six. The first act ends with a scene in New York Harbor in which Johnny makes a promise to the Statue of Liberty to

do his best both to put an end to war and to maintain his character throughout his ordeal. As he sleeps, the statue sings to him. Although the song is stirring, the music is not gestic in the way that many other songs in the play are. The rhythm is simple—chords on the first and third beats on every measure. The chords are mostly composed of the tonic and dominant notes, creating a sound neither major nor minor, but more like a religious ritual, appropriate for a goddess. It is not, however, Weill’s music that demonstrates the gestic quality of the scene, but rather Green’s lyrics and the iconic nature of the singer. The very fact that the Statue of Liberty is singing a song places the entire number in a specific context. After the statue was positioned in New York Harbor in 1886, it became a symbol, not only of liberty and democracy, but also of the United States itself. In the same way that a tango or a waltz represents a specific mood or emotion, the statue signifies a very specific connotation to anyone who sees it. As such, it can be described as visual gestus, an idea neither Brecht nor Weill mentioned in their writings. More importantly, the nature of the lyrics creates a strong statement. Although “The Song of the Goddess” was removed from the 1937 Samuel French edition, the lyrics remain in the 1940 published score. The statue remarks that she has “no heart within [her] breast,” (30) the implication being that liberty is heartless, cold, and unfeeling, which is in opposition to the emotions that most people invest in the concept of liberty. She continues to explain that man is her creator and her existence is used to justify warlike actions. And set me up with queer intent To swear their pride and folly by And I who never nothing meant Am used to send men forth to die. (31) The meaning is clear. Men created the concept of liberty in order to excuse their ruthless actions, which can be seen as a comment on the historical events leading up to America’s involvement in the war. Earlier in the play, Grandpa Joe remarks “The sea has got to be free,” referring to the sinking of the Lusitania in 1915 (28). After this incident, the United States urged Germany to restrict submarine warfare, and, for a while, Germany complied. However, America entered the First World War soon after another ship, the Laconia, was sunk en route to New York. The event became a rallying point, helping to change isolationist policies, and led to the United States involvement in the war with the

justification of freedom of the seas. Therefore, the gestic meaning of the song is that those who want war use even the noblest sentiments, such as liberty as their excuse. The anti-war sentiment in the first act of Johnny Johnson focuses primarily on the home front and the attitudes of people, with the exception of Grandpa Joe, who lack first hand knowledge of war. Green and Weill portray American citizens as individuals who blindly follow their leaders when motivated with patriotic rhetoric. The notions of liberty and patriotism are exploited for the mighty American war machine, and rational citizens fall into a singular mob mentality. The officers are shown as bullies, madmen, and libidinous creatures. Weill and Green explore the attitude of people an ocean away from the conflict. They show more of a contradiction when the scene moves to Europe in Act Two.

A Sea Song For Tea

The transition from Act One to Act Two also shows a change in Johnny’s experience. In switching locations, Johnny also experiences the attitudes of the soldiers, not the elite officers, but the grunts. Throughout Act Two, Green and Weill demonstrate that the common man who experiences war does not glorify it. At first glance, the title “The Sea Song” appears to be a typographical mistake, as the subject of the song is tea and is sung by English soldiers enjoying their favorite beverage. Rather than naming it “The Tea Song,” Green’s title provides us with a clue of the song’s origins and ultimately its gest. Sea songs, or shanties, were sung on sailing ships to coordinate group work efforts and also for entertainment. While many songs were sung during the sailors’ rare downtime, most shanties were sung to accompany specific duties onboard, and therefore, each kind of duty had its own rhythm. There are two types of shanties for jobs that require pulling rope, such as raising or lowering sails. For the lighter sails, a short drag shanty would be used. It would have a steady rhythm to keep the sailors focused on the task and enable the crew to work in unison. By contrast, long drag, or halyard, were designed for times when a heavy object, such as a particularly large sail, needed to be pulled and the work required a greater period of set up time between each pull. The song would consist of a verse and a chorus. The verse would be sung by one sailor, most likely

the boatswain or team leader, while the rest of the group rested in preparation. The men would join for the chorus, and the lyrics usually coincided with a collective pull from one to three times during the chorus depending on the weight of the sail (“Types of Shanties.”). “The Sea Song’s” structure suggests that it falls into the latter category of halyard shanty. There are two verses of sixteen bars each which could be sung solo followed by a chorus of “Hail, hail, hail.” Within the chorus there are four moments, all half notes, in which a collective pull might occur; however, the longest pause is two half notes tied over two measures, essentially a whole note, midway through the chorus (Fig 10). This pause is the most likely moment for a collective pull anywhere within the song. The piano score does not specify which actors are singing which part, but the 1937 Samuel French edition makes a clear distinction. A character simply designated as “Sergeant” leads the English soldiers, and it is this character that sings the first verse. After he is finished, the stage directions read, “The English Soldiers join in the chorus” (69). Clearly, this is a version of the halyard form of sea shanty with the Sergeant acting as the Boatswain. The chorus of the “Sea Song” reads as follows in the Samuel French edition: Then hail—hail—hail! All hail Britannia and her crown! We lift our cups to thee— (They do so) And drink thy health in bumpers down Of tea, strong tea. (69) Notice how the specific action of raising their glasses coincides exactly with the pause illustrated in Figure 10. Although it may not be a strenuous action, it is one that is made in unison like sailors heaving sails aboard ships, and thereby identifies the song as a halyard shanty. By selecting a sailor’s song for the English soldiers, Weill and Green once again chose a very specific musical idiom with pre-conceived notions attached to it. The shanty song is identified with sailors and all the associations that come with naval men. The sailors aboard sailing vessels were not blood-thirsty rogues, in general, but rather hard- working men simply trying to earn a living in the most lucrative field offered to men of

limited opportunity. Therefore, in singing a shanty, the English soldiers do not become bloodthirsty warriors, but average men performing an average day’s work. Also, the English display a casual attitude toward the war. When a sniper’s bullet is heard whizzing through the air, the American soldiers duck down, but the English soldiers “sit as they are” because they’ve been in the war for three years and have grown accustomed to bullets flying overhead (64). Their physical action, or rather their lack of physical action, combined with the sea shanty, signifies that war has become a way of life. Hence, the gest becomes one of a workplace, a nine to five job in which combat is no big deal. It is interesting to note that the American soldiers join the English soldiers in the final chorus of the shanty. If the gest of the English soldiers is one of men engaging in everyday activity, then the assumption is that the Americans participating in the song also become average men performing an average day’s work. Even more significant is that the German soldiers sing the chorus offstage as well, demonstrating that they, too, are just average men, an item Johnny is quick to point out. “See there—good scouts like us, I been telling you” (71). The only characters onstage that do not join the singing are Private O’Day and Johnny. O’Day is an Irish-American and understandably does not share the Anglophile feelings of the other members of the squad. Johnny, however, does not harbor any anti-British sentiment, so his lack of singing can be seen as a gestic action. If the gest of singing the song reflects the acceptance of wartime as part of everyday life, then the choice of not singing becomes a rejection of that lifestyle. Once again, Johnny is gestically shown to be a man of peace in a warlike atmosphere. As Johnny is the common man, the message once again becomes man’s natural rejection of a war-like state. However, Johnny’s actions later in the scene appear to contradict the gestus established by the shanty. When the English soldiers leave, the American soldiers are left on their own, and a sniper fires another bullet following a few pages of dialogue. The stage directions read, “Now once more comes the musical whing of the sniper’s bullet. They, all except Johnny, duck their heads and then sit a moment of silence” (76). If, as it was previously established, the acceptance of the bullets flying by demonstrates a casual attitude towards war and Johnny’s gest signifies that he is out of place with the military lifestyle, then why is he so calm in the face of bullets? Before the scene opens, Johnny has participated in several missions to bring supplies to his squad, and Johnny often

volunteers for dangerous assignments that his comrades are too scared to accept. Johnny’s attitude toward the bullets does not demonstrate that he has accepted the military way of life, but rather that he is simply unafraid. The difference between the various soldiers is quite distinct. The French solders, seen in the opening moments of Act Two are wounded and morally crushed. They are in a much harsher state than their English or American counterparts. Perhaps the injuries inflicted upon their homeland reflect in their utter despair and their disabled bodies. By sharp contrast, the English are casual, disconnected almost to the point of boredom, as if fighting wars were a common occurrence. Finally, the American solders display the kind of bravado that exists to cover fear. They are untested and have no idea what is in store for them. As such, we experience the war through their eyes, we are introduced to the horrors when they are, and through their experience we see a marked difference between those at home with no contact with the war and those who fight. Perhaps the idea that Green and Weill promote is that war is easy to rationalize and support when one isn’t directly involved, but those who experience war first-hand like Weill and Green did, know better from their experiences.

Kraber’s Cowboy Song

Group Theatre actor Tony Kraber was known within the organization for performing “cowboy songs,” and would even perform them for the community at the Brookfield center as part of their annual summer performance (Clurman 127). At the same time, as Weill began his new career as an American composer, he made an effort to explore various styles of American music, which is demonstrated in the cowboy song sung by Private Harwood. Actor Phoebe Brand, who played Minnie Belle, reports that Weill wrote the song especially for Kraber. That song has nothing to do with anything in the show, but Kurt was dying to write some American songs of all kinds, including folk songs of the type that Tony would sing for us. Kurt especially liked that song, and so did we. (Hirsch 142)

Although Brand believes that the song is a random number placed in the show for Kraber’s and Weill’s delight, her statement also supports the idea that Weill was attempting to create gestic music. She states that Weill was eager to write American songs, presumably because they were the type of songs that an American audience would know and understand. The very nature of gestic music, according to Weill’s writing, is to use a sample of easily recognizable song styles in order to establish an emotional connection with the audience. Brand’s statement implies that Weill was actively searching for recognizable styles and found a purely American one in the cowboy song, which had its roots in the Old West with amateur songwriters plucking melodies around a campfire. By the 1930s, it had evolved into a commercial product. Even before Gene Autry brought the cowboy song to an urban sensibility during the 1930s, performers like Jimmie Rodgers had modest hits. His 1921 song “When the Cactus is in Bloom” contains a Hawaiian guitar within its arrangement, an element that Weill included in his orchestra for “Oh The Rio Grande” (Lankford. Hirsch 143). Although, at first glance, the chords of the cowboy song seem to be unusual and rather difficult to play, one notices that almost every chord is a barre chord. A barre chord is played by stretching the index finger across the entire neck of the guitar, in essence shortening the length of the string, producing a higher note when strummed or fretted. The chord requires the index finger to be very firm against the string, and as a result it becomes very difficult to fret the other notes in the chord in a clean manner. However, if a capo, a small bar placed over the strings to transpose the instrument, is placed on the second fret, the chords can be played with ease. For example the opening bars of “Oh the Rio Grande” shown in Figure 11, feature a Bsus2 chord that can easily be played with two fingers followed by the more complex but manageable F-Sharp diminished chord, and the rest of the song is also composed of chords that can easily be played with the capo on the second fret. This suggests Weill’s conscious attempt to recreate an authentic cowboy song by supplying the number with chords that an amateur guitar player can easily handle, albeit in a transposed key, echoing the manner in which cowboy songs were originally composed. One should also observe the rhythm of the opening bars in Figure 11. The bass is accentuated on the first and third beats of every measure anticipated by an eighth note pick up, while the treble staff displays three quick notes

following each strong beat. The resulting rhythm suggests a mariachi number, often associated with the American Southwest. Green assigns Harwood a stage direction that helps to supply the gest. When Harwood sings his song, the stage directions describe his action as a “wistful remembrance” (80). The rest of the men have fallen asleep, and Harwood is the last man to fall silent. Therefore, the song is performed solely for Harwood’s benefit, and in turn, for the benefit of the audience. The gest of the scene is clear; Harwood misses the West and wishes he were there instead of Europe. Harwood is, therefore, in contrast to the officers in Act One, who want nothing more than to go to war. Those that experience war, like Harwood, want nothing more than to go home.

Mysterious Melodies and Musical Munitions

Music reflects the dreams of the men, their unconscious state, while Harwood, Johnny and the squad sleep. The first music that is heard during that sequence is a reprise of “O Heart of Love,” Minnie Belle’s song from the first act. As previously mentioned, the song begins with major and minor chords and progressively includes more and more diminished chords so that, as the song progresses, it becomes darker. In the reprise however, Weill doesn’t allow the song to have that chance; it is only twenty-one bars long, ending before it can grow too melancholy. Also, the figuration changes between the original and the reprise, as shown in Figures 12 and 13. The original is a straightforward danceable waltz with a strong downbeat in the bass staff in every measure, followed by two weaker beats in the treble staff. By contrast, the reprise does not follow the standard waltz beat. The chord in the bass is held for the entire measure, while the treble part is broken up and played an octave higher. The heartbreaking lyrics, which hinted at a schoolgirl’s romantic idea of love, are replaced by and instrumental melody, and with the elimination of those lyrics comes the elimination of the gest attached to the original version of the song.17 The stage directions describe Johnny’s “smiling blissful face” as the only thing visible, suggesting that the music comes from his own mind and has removed any doubt that can be foreseen in Minnie Belle’s words.

17 The 1937 vocal score does not contain lyrics to the reprise, but the 1971 edition Minnie Belle appears onstage and sings the last verse of the song.

The gestus is a combination of music, action, and lighting. All elements are necessary to portray the intended meaning. After Johnny’s dream fades, the light on him fades as well, rising on the other men in the squad. Their faces are described as “tortured,” and they are heard “moaning and twisting the in grip on an uneasy dream” (81). The light change signifies to the audience that what follows is not a reflection of Johnny’s state of mind, but an suggestion of the emotional state of the other men in the squad. The light change itself is not gestic, but rather indicative of the subject. Green describes the next event in his stage directions as follows: As if embodied forth by the restless sleepers’ nightmare, the round muzzles of three great cannon push themselves slowly up over the parapet and then out and out until their long threatening necks stretch above the recumbent figures. (82) By the use of the phrase “embodied forth,” Green’s directions imply that the cannons were called by the angst of the soldiers, and therefore, the presence of the cannons can be seen as an indication of the soldiers’ inner states. In the most symbolic scene in the play, the cannons themselves present social commentary directly to the audience, corresponding to Brecht’s idea of social gestus as “the realm of attitudes adopted by the characters towards one another” but embodying those attitudes in normally inanimate objects (Brecht, “A Short Organum for the Theatre” 198). While Green wrote his lyrics to demonstrate the soldiers’ inner states, Weill felt it was necessary to express musically the relationship between the men and the cannons. Instead of doing what most composers would do—make the music grim and stark, with timpani and such devices—I wanted it to be seducing, as if sung by prostitutes. For cannon are like prostitutes: their metal could have been used for better purposes, and moreover they do anybody’s bidding, right or wrong. They say to the soldiers, “You sleep, we do the work for you.” (Hirsch 141) By comparing the cannon’s appeal to that of prostitutes, Weill is expounding upon the nature of man to be seduced. His statement suggests that man’s character can be corrupted by the ease with which a cannon or a prostitute can be used. However, he states that it is ultimately the choice of man whether or not to give in to such temptation, for it

is not the canon itself that brings death, as the metal is devoid of choice, but the man who uses it for such a purpose. Such bold statements from both Green and Weill suggest a complex gest. The soldiers are drawn into a warlike state through the ease and seductiveness of the guns, which they created themselves, yet at the same time they are repulsed by the situation that makes the relationship necessary, a relationship created for them by other men.

The Use of “La Marseillaise”

As Weill introduces us to the headquarters of the Allied Command, he employs a similar type of gestic music by introducing a well-known theme. Earlier, it was noted that Weill used familiar bugle calls when presenting a scene, allowing the audience to associate the scene with the military. At the beginning of the number listed as “The Allied High Command,” Weill uses the well-known opening melody of "La Marseillaise" in the same way. Originally titled Chant de Guerre pour l'Armée du Rhin (Battle Song for the Army of the Rhine), it was written in 1792 by Claude-Joseph Rouget de Lisle as a march for the Marseille volunteers. Although many now know the tune as the French National Anthem, it did not become so until 1958, eight years after Weill’s death. Indeed the original lyrics are rather bloody: Entendez-vous dans les campagnes Mugir ces féroces soldats? Ils viennent jusque dans nos bras Egorger nos fils et nos compagnes! (Kendall) In English, Do you hear in the battlefields The howling of these wild soldiers? They come into our midst To cut the throats of our sons and lovers! It is interesting that Weill chose this number over the official French anthem, Le Chant des Partisans (The Song of Partisans). In doing so, he is more than simply denoting that the scene takes place in Europe, but rather introducing a martial quality to the scene.

As previously stated, one of the techniques of creating gestic music was using a small sample of a well-known rhythm, what Kowalke calls a “rhythmic kernel” (118). In the case of “The Allied High Command,” Weill uses a small sample of a familiar melody, which one might term a “melodic kernel.” Unlike the Beatles’ use of “La Marseillaise” in “All You Need is Love,” Weill only uses the first eight notes. Observe in the first five measures of Figure 14 how Weill plays the phrase once and then repeats the phrase an octave higher, making certain each use of the phrase is clearly heard. He repeats the pattern in measures five through nine. However, in measure ten, the phrases, still alternating octaves, begin to overlap. Although they are played with the same tempo as the first nine measures, the overlapping gives the music the appearance of getting faster, but actually, the phrase is simply starting a measure earlier. By measure fourteen, the phrase is shortened to the opening four notes, an even smaller kernel, and Weill repeats the phrase in various octaves. Once again, the music appears to be getting faster although the tempo remains the same. The bass is a constant quarter note rhythm, and Weill gives no indication of tempo change. The result of using of “La Marseillaise” is that it becomes a familiar tune signifying war and revolution becoming faster and faster until it is barely recognizable. The reflection of the scene’s attitude, the gest, is that of a military march spinning out of control. That gest, in conjunction with the use of a well-known French anthem in the specific context of World War I, makes the statement that the now-historical men in charge of the war, General Pershing and company, were not entirely in control of the situation, a connotation made even stronger by Green’s less-than-subtle stage directions. He states that the character referred to as the American Commander is more than simply representing the position of “American Commander, but is rather General Pershing himself, and the rest of the officers are meant to be their foreign counterparts. It also foreshadows the loss of control that will happen later when the officers are exposed to Johnny’s laughing gas.

The Repeating Foxtrot

During the musical interludes that occur throughout the Second Act, Weill repeats a specific rhythmic phrase, a dotted quarter note followed by an eighth note, which then repeats, followed by two quarter notes. The phrase picks up with a quarter note to repeat the entire phrase. The first time Weill uses this rhythmic phrase is within the song “The Laughing Generals,” when Johnny exposes the generals to the laughing gas. Observe in Figure 15 how the melody follows the rhythmic pattern: a dotted quarter note, an eighth note, another dotted quarter note, an eighth note, and two quarter notes. Weill labels this music “Fox Trot,” and it is indeed music that can accompany a fox trot or a quick step (64). The music is repeated during the battle scene when the German and Allied soldiers are celebrating what they believe to be the end of the war. Note that Figure 16 is the same melody used in Figure 15. The use of the same music is significant when placed in context. The first time the music is heard, Johnny has released laughing gas in the headquarters of the Allied High Command. Before Johnny enters, the various officers make plans for a very large offensive in which many men will be killed. As previously stated, Green makes certain to note that while these men are not addressed by name, they bear a “striking resemblance” to the officers who historically served in World War I: Foch, Pershing, Haig, Rawlinson, Petani, George, Clemenceau, and King Albert of Belgium (106). Rather then shifting the blame to mysterious unnamed powers-that-be, Green assigns identities to the men responsible for the war. They continue planning the offensive, and throughout the scene, the individual officers are often confused as to which country is going to do what job. They even engage in barely veiled hostility towards each other from time to time. The officers participate in a boasting contest when the subject of estimated casualties is broached. Each European country pledges higher and higher numbers in order to prove themselves braver then their neighbors, with the exception of the Pershing character who, when asked what his estimated loses will be, responds, “Very few, I hope” (113). This demonstrates a very delicate relationship between each country. The gest of the Europeans is of men who don’t wish to be perceived as cowards, whereas the United States soldiers come off as people who are simply doing a job without emotional attachment. The United States is making it clear, through the attitude of the American Commander, that this is not their war, and they are less than enthusiastic about the upcoming battle. The officers speak their lines in rhythm,

and Weill accompanies the scene with bright, cheerful old-fashioned dance music in 4/4 time, sounding much like a turn-of-the-century promenade. The exposure to the laughing gas reveals the officers’ inner state without the inhibitions they felt in the company of one another. Under the influence of the gas, they sing and dance around the room, each officer performing a dance native to his own country. When Johnny asks for the war to end, the American Commander readily agrees, saying, “General Johnson’s right. This war is foolish, there’s nothing to it but blood and murder” (122). They continue to dance around, even singing the line “We’ll all be home for Christmas” to the very rhythmic melody shown in Figure 15. The laughing gas becomes a logical vehicle for the gest in that it allows the true inner state of the officers to be revealed. The gas strips away all thoughts of duty and imposed responsibility, exposing the true feelings of the men, and gives them an outlet to express themselves. The feelings have to be inherent within the men in order for them to be released when the gas removes their inhibitions, and the fox trot music is the gestic reflection of those feelings. The same music is reprised during the battle, as shown by Figure 16. Johnny has announced to the men at the front lines that the war is over and they can go home. The reprise of the music reflects the soldiers’ joy at the end of hostility, and while the music may be the same, the soldiers are not under the influence of laughing gas. The music simply reflects their happiness; the news of a cease-fire is enough to lower their cares and suggests that the soldiers are not willing to fight but do so only because it is their job. After reprising “The Laughing Generals,” Weill also reprises “The Democracy March.” Observe in Figure 17 how the melody of “Peace, peace, peace” is played fortissimo in the bass staff while the arpeggio is played in staccato in the treble staff. When played in Act One, the melody started with an ode to peace but reached its pinnacle after the declaration of war, but here it receives a bold, brass treatment when the soldiers believe that the war is over and peace has been declared. The song comes full circle in the Second Act and demonstrates the difference in gest between those who serve in war and those who stay home. The citizens on the home front who, with the exception of Grandpa Joe, have no knowledge of war are clearly more excited by the impending war than with the notion of peace. In contrast, the men who have experienced war are much more delighted at the

thought of a cease-fire than proceeding with the imminent frontal attack. When other officers arrive and the soldiers learn that the war has not ended, the music ceases, as their happiness has disappeared. Interestingly, Green ends the scene in a symbolic way. “Somewhere far away and as if beneath the earth, a great gun is fired” (131). Such a noise is reminiscent of Chekhov’s breaking string at the end of The Cherry Orchard or Green’s own wind groaning through the trees in In Abraham’s Bosom. It symbolically represents the state of the world changing, a noise reflecting not the inner state of any individual, but rather the state of the world at large.

War and Tumults

The battle in Johnny Johnson is shown through a series of eight flashes depicting bloody scenes while two priests, one American and one German, chant the prayer “In Times of War and Tumults.” Green is not the author of the prayer, but it can be found in the Episcopalian Book of Common Prayer, which had a very popular edition printed in 1928. The prayer can also be found in an 1863 edition of the Book of Common Prayer, which was published in Atlanta and distributed in the South with a prayer for the President of the Confederate States. With the exception of a spelling correction, Green did not change the words or punctuation from the 1928 edition, which implies that the prayer held a particular significance for him. Raised in the South, Green would no doubt be familiar with the prayer as he fills his works with memories from his own Southern experience. It is reasonable to conclude that Green chose this prayer because it would be the standard prayer used in Episcopal services during wartime18 and therefore familiar to audiences. It is once again the verbal equivalent of Kowalke’s rhythmic kernel in that it is a familiar piece of work with an established significance. Upon hearing a prayer that they are familiar with, the audience transfers the emotions associated with the prayer to the scene. Green describes the scene as “A series of flashes—by the light of busting shells” while the two priests perform their monologues in separate spotlights on opposite sides of the stage (132). Notice in Figure 18 how the vocals of the priests are sung while the

18 The prayer has remained popular throughout the years and has been frequently featured in online Church Bulletins since the events of September 11, 2001.

orchestra plays long chords. In the measure following their vocals, the orchestra plays a series of sixteenth notes. These rapid notes resemble the artillery fire that Green describes, and there are eight places where these notes occur in significant length. There are also eight specific tableaus described in the Samuel French edition, ending with Johnny holding a dying man’s head and offering him water. The tableaus, therefore, appear during the bursts of sixteenth notes that occur between the priests’ words. The audience is thereby subjected to alternating information that begins with the priests offering a prayer for the success of their armies, followed by a scene of violence and then returning back to the priests, establishing a pattern. The resulting juxtaposition demonstrates that God is impartial in times of war. Both priests recite the same prayer, and both sides suffer casualties. The gest of the scene is the righteousness of the priests when they are blind to the war erupting around them. Additionally, Green’s use of an official prayer sanctioned by the Episcopal Church lends a certain formality and authenticity to the gest in that it suggests that the Church’s official stance on the war is one of silent consent.

The Lunatics Running the Asylum

As the scene shifts from Europe back to America, the focus once again changes from those who experience war to those who do not, but after being shown the horrors of war, the audience can only view the behavior of those on the home front as insane. As Act Three opens, the play is set in a mental hospital run by Dr. Mahodan, a psychiatrist who is clearly mad himself. In his number, “The Psychiatry Song,” Dr. Mahodan discusses the manner in which mental health was treated in primitive and medieval times, before discussing the relatively new advances in psychotherapy.19 After referencing Freud, Jung and Alder, Dr. Mahodan states, And though it hurts, we probe the ruts Of mental pain that drives men nuts And heal their lunacies. And from their devils being free

19 The 1937 version places the song at the beginning of the scene, with the song being sung to the audience. The 1971 version places the song at the end of the scene, with the song being sung to Johnny.

They all take up Psychiatry. (142) The implication is, of course, that psychiatrists are either insane, or that they are quacks practicing false medicine. Green argues that the former applies to Dr. Mahodan, demonstrating his madness by showing gestic actions throughout his scene by both his words and gestures. After his song, he consumes a dose of medicine and says, “Well my business is to cure others, and not myself” (143). He continues to diagnose Johnny in an absurd manner, comparing Johnny to Jesus by referring to him as a “will-less egocentric,” and he notices that Johnny is left-handed and remarks at the “discrepancy between his forehead and his chin” (143). These techniques in no way resemble any method of diagnosis familiar to the average layperson. Psychoanalysis was, at the time, still relatively new; although he had been working on developing his theories since the turn of the century, Freud’s The Ego and the Id was published in 1923, only thirteen years before its use in Johnny Johnson, and his groundbreaking book, The Interpretation of Dreams was published in 1900 (Noland 320). The methods that twenty-first century audiences are no doubt familiar with must have seemed strange and unusual to an audience in 1936 that might have only a layman’s understanding of Freud’s theories. Accordingly, Green parodies the seemingly random methods employed by early twentieth century psychiatrists and alienists. In addition to Dr. Mahodan’s faulty diagnosis, he also performs physical gestures that exhibit his mental instability. When alone in his office, Dr. Mahodan “picks up a hand mirror and begins studying the interior of his mouth” (143). While he may conceivably be checking his teeth for traces of food, the act itself is quite random and out of place. In addition, Dr. Mahodan seems to forget Johnny’s name several times throughout, as well as forgetting his own name and even calling Johnny “Mr. Mahodan” at the end of the scene (152). At one point, Dr. Mahodan bursts into uncontrollable laughter at one of Johnny’s jokes. These physical actions are clearly the result of a disturbed mind and can be seen as the reflection of Dr. Mahodan’s inner state, and while the actions are not difficult to interpret and may or may not represent the logical cause and effect of mental illness, the actions are gestic in that they reveal Dr. Mahodan’s attitude towards the world. Dr. Mahodan’s song has three separate styles that accommodate three eras of time described by the singer. The first era is the primitive era, and Weill matches the lyrics

with a stereotypical, primitive sound. Notice in Figure 19 how the rhythm of the bass notes resemble the beating of tribal drums when repeated measure after measure. Although the rhythm is not specific to any nationality, it strongly resembles the style of drumming that would appear in a contemporary Hollywood movie. One could imagine that the island scenes of King Kong or any film that takes place in the South Pacific could be set to the rhythm that Weill created. Thus Weill played on the familiarity of Americans’ knowledge, or misunderstanding, as it were, of tribal sounds to accompany such lyrics as “With yell and blow and expletive and loudly beaten drum” (141). In the second verse, Weill simplifies the accompaniment. Observe in Figure 20, how the accompaniment is only a chord at the beginning of each measure and that chord itself is only played in the treble staff. Also, the chords start out with only the tonic and dominant pitches replacing the major mediant chord in the third and fourth measure, giving them piece a solemn, religious feeling. Weill even placed the words “Andante Religioso” on the page to determine the tempo (83). Finally, in the third verse, Weill updates the rhythm of the song to a slow foxtrot. Notice in Figure 21 how Weill has changed the time signature from 2/4 to 4/4, for a fox trot is performed in four. The notes are a combination of dotted eighth notes and sixteenth notes, creating a swung four. One may recall that “The West Pointer” had the same rhythm of a dotted eighth note, sixteenth note, dotted eighth note, and sixteenth notes. It can be seen in the fourth measure of Figure 21 and in the first measure of Figure 8. Both numbers are fox trots, a distinctly twentieth century style of music. Weill bluntly chose to accompany each verse with a style of music that brings to mind the era that Dr. Mahodan describes, and in doing so, took advantage of the previously established notions that audience members had already made with the source music, creating a gestic connection between audience and performers. By making Dr. Mahodan insane, Weill and Green essentially neutralize his opinion of Johnny. If Dr. Mahodan is insane himself, then his diagnosis of Johnny is likely incorrect, and as Green and Weill could attest from their personal experiences, anyone who endures the horrors of war cannot think of peace as an insane notion.

Gestus and Satire

As he did with the Allied High Command, Green recreates the debate surrounding the League of Nations, but while the officers in Europe could conceivably be the famous military men that Green suggests, the men that populate the Adelphi Debating Society are clearly madmen. Although Green names his officers in Act Two by saying that the Chief of the Combined Allied Forces “bears a striking resemblance to Marshal Foch,” he chooses his words more carefully here, describing Brother Thomas as “a man who resembles a certain late Vice-President of the United States” rather than explicitly mentioning that he looks like Thomas Marshall (106, 153). Each member of the society represents an important public person at the center of the historical debate, and they bear the same first name as the public figure they represent. For example, Brother Henry, who is described as “a little man resembling a certain late senator from Massachusetts,” is clearly Massachusetts’ Senator Henry Cabot Lodge, and, while Green doesn’t directly state that these men are intended to represent their famous counterparts, most people would recognize Brother Theodore as Teddy Roosevelt when he says “Both present—me and my stick,” a clear reference to, “Speak softly but carry a big stick” (157). Green establishes this distinction from the beginning of the scene when “Dr. Frewd” mistakes Johnny for Woodrow Wilson. In response, Brother Thomas says, “I’m sorry Dr. Frewd, but you keep making the same mistake. Johnny is not the President of the United States. Are you, Johnny?” to which Johnny, after looking pointedly at the portrait of Wilson on the wall, simply says “No” (154-5). Perhaps Green wished to make clear that these men were not meant to represent the politicians of the time, but an alternate view into the way things could have been. Brothers William, Hiram, and Henry vocally opposed the “League of World Republics” as William Borah, Hiram Johnson, and Henry Cabot Lodge oppose the League of Nations, but while the real Thomas Marshall opposed U.S. entry, Brother Thomas in Johnny Johnson argues most adamantly for it. In the end, while the real politicians voted against membership in The League of Nations, the madmen in the Adelphi Debating Society, even Brother Henry, unanimously approve their own “League of World Republics” (154).

One can assume that an audience in 1936 would easily remember the events of fifteen years prior, much as modern audiences could easily recognize references to Ronald Reagan or Oliver North, and here we see another example of gestus in that Green created characters based on easily recognizable public figures. Furthermore, Green chose to focus on and exaggerate one or two specific characteristics about each member as a celebrity impressionist would. For example, Teddy Roosevelt has his stick, and it becomes the recognizable factor in his persona. To expand upon Kowalke’s “rhythmic kernel” metaphor, Teddy’s stick is the kernel in which the audience creates its mental and emotional association. While the emotional inner state of the character is not as clearly revealed as in other scenes in the play, the character’s intellectual inner state is obviously demonstrated by that stick. The stick, therefore, becomes the metaphor that the true Roosevelt intended it to be, that the United States must make adequate preparations for armed conflict in order to keep the nation safe, which is supported by Brother Theodore’s statement, “In time of peace prepare for war” (160). Green drives home his point even further by including a physical action with Theodore’s line that reads, “Waving his rubber stick” (160). In gesturing with the very instrument that signifies military preparedness, Brother Theodore’s actions become a gestic reflection of his intellectual state. At the beginning of the scene, the inmates sing a small chorus celebrating their brotherhood. In Foster Hirsch’s biography Kurt Weill on Stage, he explains the song’s origin. “Weill arranged a version of an old Methodist hymn, ‘Blest Be the Tie That Binds,’ which Paul Green suggested” (143). The music and lyrics to the Methodist hymn can be found in The New Hymnal, published in 1930. Blest be the tie that binds Our hearts in Jesus’ love: The fellowship of Christian minds Is like to that above. (501) Green’s lyrics are similar in structure to the old hymn, but with a few changes. How sweetly friendship binds— Our hearts in brother love With kindness of forgiving minds—

Life’s sweetest pleasures prove. (154) Notice that the syllable structure is identical. There are six syllables in the first, second and fourth lines, and eight syllables in the third line of each version. The second lines are almost identical with “brother” replacing “Jesus.’” Also note that not only the rhyme structure is identical, ABAB, but the ending words are the same in each version, with the sole exception of “above” and “prove,” though the word is close enough to sustain the rhyme. In contrast, Weill’s music for the hymn was significantly altered. Observe the differences between Figure 22 and Figure 23. The original time signature is 3/4, meaning three beats per measure with a quarter note equaling one beat. Weill changed the time signature to 6/8, which has six beats per measure with an eighth note equaling one beat, which may sound almost the same, but in Weill’s version, the eighth notes are given a stronger emphasis. This can be seen in how Weill places emphasis on the first, third, fourth, and sixth beat in his version, whereas the original hymn, when placed in 6/8 time would emphasize the first, third, and fifth beat. Weill’s version purposely disrupts the original rhythm. In addition, Weill changed the key signature from the key of C to the key of B minor, and while the original begins in C major, Weill’s version begins in the natural minor with the first chord as a Bsus4. Also note that the melodies are completely different: where the original goes up, Weill goes down and vice versa. The two versions are similar enough to warrant comparison, but different enough to be completely separate pieces. The combination of Green’s adherence to the lyrical structure and Weill’s modification of the music makes for an interesting piece of gestic music. Green used an identifiable piece of music and made an effort to maintain the syllable structure, resulting in a recognizable parody of a familiar song. The song, used in church services, would be as familiar and distinguishable as “In Times of War and Tumults” and would therefore generate its own set of preconceived notions from an audience. When combined with Weill’s skewed accompaniment, the piece changes but still retains its familiarity. The audience would consequently recognize the piece, if only through the lyrics, and make all the inherent associations, but they would know that something is wrong, that they were witnessing strange circumstances. Since the song takes place at the beginning of the scene, the audience may not be aware that the action takes place inside an asylum, even

though Johnny is committed in the previous scene, for Johnny Johnson rapidly changes venues throughout the play. The song is gestic because it reveals spirituality and a feeling of brotherhood, as can be found within a close-knit community church, while at the same time displays the madness through the unorthodox music. It is strange and familiar at the same time. Interestingly, Hirsch’s statement that the piece was Green’s idea suggests that Green understood the idea of gestus that Weill wrote about several years before, and it becomes the strongest evidence of Brecht’s gestic idea, filtered through Weill, influencing Green’s work. The final scene of the play takes place in 1936, and it is at this point that the criticism shifts from the errors committed to in World War I to the prevention of World War II. The play becomes a cautionary tale to avoid World War II, as Green seems to be saying that an organization such as The League of Nations could have prevented Hitler’s rise to power, a role the United Nations currently fills. Perhaps Green is saying that even a madman could see the need for a governing body to watchdog the international community.

Johnny’s Song

Johnny Johnson is an unusual play for many reasons, and one of them is the fact that the title character does not sing a note until the final scene of the play. His theme plays throughout the piece, but never with lyrics or voice attached, and it is only after Johnny has completed his journey that he finally sings. Green subtitled his play “The Biography of the Common Man,” and the story follows the structure of a biography as the audience follows the life of one individual experiencing the world and the events that shape it. Try as he may, he cannot change that world because he is not ultimately a part of it. In Green’s notes, one can find lyrics to Johnny’s song that never made it into the script. Green notates that the song is to take place by the monument. My daddy used to tell me That folks are mighty strange, They twist and turn and change— One day it’s peace, the next it’s war—

And now they would compel me To march away to die, Or kill another guy, Not knowing what it’s for. And what’s the use of all such killing? I wish somebody’d tell me why, The rotting graves forever filling With young men marching forth to die My daddy used to tell me Go do the best you can And trust your fellowman— Then likely he’ll trust you. (Green, Notes Folder 3062) The existence of these lyrics suggests that Green originally intended them to be sung at some point in the production, perhaps when his theme is heard for the first time following the “Democracy March” reprise. When Green revised the play in 1971 he included this version of the song in the first scene. However he only included the first eight lines of the song, altering the first stanza. My daddy used to tell me That folks on Earth are queer Just take my neighbors here One minute peace, the next it’s war. (19) Green never says why he included this version of the song in 1971, but by doing so he removes one of the most distinct attributes that sets Johnny apart from the rest of the world. Simply put, the rest of the world sings, and Johnny does not, and this difference is important in establishing three things that lets the audience understand this character. First, it makes Johnny more of an outsider than he already is. Johnny never seems to fit in any situation. He doesn’t join the crowd in singing the “War! War! War!” reprise, nor does he join Minnie Belle in the love song, demonstrating that his feelings are different in those situations. As a pacifist, Johnny cannot bring himself to fanatically sing for war, and while Minnie Belle’s view of love is a romantic, fatalistic one, Johnny’s view is more pure and doesn’t fit Minnie Belle’s idea. Johnny also doesn’t join in “The

Sea Song” with the rest of his company, a reflection of his outsider status. In the same way, the absence of his singing voice throughout the entire piece is a reflection of unwillingness to participate in a world where war exists for absurd reasons. He cannot change the world because he is not part of it. Secondly, the lack of Johnny’s musical contribution establishes a connection with his two foils. Of the major characters in the play, the only other two who do not sing are Anguish Howington, Johnny’s rival for Minnie Belle’s affection, and Johan, Johnny’s German counterpart. Anguish represents the path that Johnny has too much honor to take. He also doesn’t believe in the war and doesn’t want to go, but, unlike Johnny, he is afraid, and confesses his fear to Aggie early in the play. “Ever since last Sunday when that English hero preached in church I haven’t slept a wink” (40). While Johnny takes the hard, but straightforward route, Anguish manages to make himself unfit for the army and avoid service. In the end, not only does Anguish get the girl, but he is also a successful businessman and mayor of the town. In many ways, although Johnny has more character, Anguish is much more clever in how he is able to manipulate the system and Minnie Belle. He is not part of the world, for he doesn’t sing on his own, but unlike Johnny, he joins in during the “Democracy March” reprise, and by pretending to be a part of the system, he is able to manipulate it to his advantage. In Green’s notes, he mentions that Anguish represents business and that businesses manipulate political events for capital gain, much like the way in which he profits while stateside (Green, Notes, Folder 3063). The other obvious foil is Johan. When the two meet, Johnny discovers that the two of them have many things in common, including the same name and same opinion of the war. If Johnny is the American Everyman, then Johan is Germany’s version of the same stereotype. Johan doesn’t sing, as he is not part of the warlike world in which he has found himself, therefore, if Johnny’s absence of song is a gestic reflection of his unwillingness to participate in a world where war exists for absurd reasons, then the same gest exists for Johan. Thirdly, by not singing, Johnny’s creates a connection to the audience and a vehicle through which we can experience his world. Because Johnny is an outsider, we also view the world as such, much in the same way we view the world of Forrest Gump through the eyes of the title character. In this way, our perspective changes, and we see

familiar events in a different way, forcing us to reevaluate out own preconceived notions of history. When Johnny does eventually sing, the established connection is used to communicate directly with us. Johnny does not sing his song to any other character in the play, nor does he need to sing to himself, but rather Johnny turns and sings directly to the audience in the same manner that the characters do in The Threepenny Opera, to deliver a message.20 Rhythmically, the song is simple and straightforward with a simple quarter note beat as can be seen in Figure 24. But, as illustrated by the first measure of Figure 24, Weill places moments of a swung rhythm, which becomes more prominent as the verse moves on. Observe in Figure 25, the familiar fox trot rhythm occurs again as in “The West Pointer” and “The Psychiatry Song,” once again bringing the audience into the twentieth century. By the end of the play, the audience’s association with Johnny is complete and he is finally in the position to address the audience.21

20 Weill would use a similar tactic later in Lady in the Dark with Moss Hart and Ira Gershwin but not for the same reasons. Whereas Johnny’s theme in Johnny Johnson is a gestic reflection of Johnny’s character, “My Ship,” the melody that runs through Lady in the Dark, is a manifestation of the protagonist’s subconscious, for the only music that exists in Lady in the Dark comes from the protagonist’s dreams. The song thereby becomes a vague remembrance of an altered state. 21 In the 1971 version, Green edited many of the lyrics to “Johnny’s Song.” The changes are minimal, and in such a way that the meaning remains the same.

CONCLUSION

Clearly, Johnny Johnson is a gestic piece that went unrecognized as such at the time of its initial performance. Instances of lyrical, musical and social gestus as defined by both Brecht and Weill during their famous collaboration fill the play, and Johnny Johnson also demonstrates gestus in ways that expand upon the original theories to demonstrate the gest or the attitude through different methods. In my opening chapter, I defined gestus based upon the writings of Brecht, Weill, and their critics, and while gestus as a whole strives for the same goal—that is, to communicate an emotional and intellectual inner state to the audience—there are many different tactics that an author, composer, director, or actor can employ to arrive at that goal. The methods that Brecht and Weill described in their early writings are clearly on display within Johnny Johnson and can be categorized by lyrical gestus, musical gestus, and social gestus. As the lyricist and writer of the book, Green set the tone for the language used in the play, for Brecht wrote that language could be gestic. “A language is gestic when it is grounded in a gest and conveys particular attitudes adopted by the speaker towards other men” (“On Gestic Music” 104). The language expresses a character’s personal prejudices and attitudes, transcending the communication between individuals. The playwright expresses the inner voice of the character through word and phrase choice. Paul Green chose words that could express a character’s feelings even when performing a contrary action. His clever use of lyrics in Minnie Belle’s “Oh Heart of Love” demonstrates a state of mind that doesn’t quite match a romantic waltz, projecting Minnie Belle’s fatalistic romanticism as she professes her love to Johnny. In addition to choosing words that may contradict an action, Green also used recognizable phrases in order to establish a connection with the audience. He would use a phrase that his audience would recognize, but then alter it slightly in order to give the phrase a different meaning. For example, he

has Brother Theodore make a reference to Roosevelt’s “Big Stick” military policy, the significance of which could be identified by most audience members, but he alters the line to imply that the stick is present in the room with Theodore. Brother Theodore is a lunatic, and the inclusion of the stick—not merely the physical, although rubber, stick, but also the metaphorical stick—implies that the policy, preparing for war in a time of peace, is also unsound. In the same scene, Green uses the lyrics to the Episcopal hymn “Blest Be the Tie that Binds” in an “Ode to Brotherhood” sung by the inmates. He alters the lyrics slightly to change the meaning but retains enough of the original lyrics to be recognizable. In this way, not only does Green create gestus in the manner that Brecht suggested, but he also creates gestus by applying Weill’s theories of musical gestus to lyrics. Although Green was successful in creating associations through word choice, he was less successful in displaying the emotional state of his characters through choice of phrase. Brecht used irregular rhythms within his lyrics in order to demonstrate an agitated state, and he would stretch lyrical phrases over rhythmic ones. By contrast, Green kept his rhythms fairly regular, rarely stretching phrases over a single line. Brecht also advocated the intentional lack of rhyme in order to disrupt the rhythmic quality of the line. Green, however, rhymes very consistently throughout the piece. He doesn’t always rhyme within the verse, but he will rhyme phrases from one verse with the corresponding phrase in another verse, as in “Oh Heart of Love.” Brecht’s theories on rhyme and rhythm were published in 1939, well after his collaboration with Weill and the premiere of Johnny Johnson, in his essay “On Rhymeless Verse with Irregular Rhythm.” As such, it is very possible that these theories were formulated after 1933 and not shared with Weill during their brief time together; therefore, the non-rhythmic aspect of gestus would not have been passed from Weill to Green. However, the aspects of Brecht’s theories that he created with Weill are evident in Green’s previously stated choice of words to exhibit the inner state of his characters. Although the theories of lyrical gestus come from the writings of Brecht, Green clearly could not have read these writings. His only exposure to gestus would be viewing The Threepenny Opera in Europe and through discussion with Weill. While Green’s lyrics in Johnny Johnson attempt to contradict Weill’s music as Brecht’s often did, there is no attempt to recreate the style of Brecht. There is also no

evidence that Green even had any interest in aping Brecht’s style. As such, since Green could only have heard of gestus through Weill, his use of gestus follows Weill’s path, and in doing so creates new tactics of expressing the gestus of a scene or play. In essence, Green attempted to adapt Weill’s musical gestic theory to language and narrative. In his writings, Kurt Weill expressed that, on its own, music cannot have a characterizing effect, but it must be placed within a specific context, and it is only through that context that music can demonstrate the gestus. He felt a composer could maintain control over the actor’s interpretation in the same manner a playwright could. Gestic music takes the form of a musical idiom that can be clearly identified much in the same manner as an actor’s physical realizations of the internal reality of his character must take the form of a recognizable action. The musical design must have a significant bearing to the audience. Weill chose to insert the rhythm by isolating a particular aspect of the rhythm, what Kowalke calls the “identifying rhythmic kernel,” and create a musical structure based upon that specific characteristic (118). Weill uses waltzes, tangos, a cowboy song, and the foxtrot throughout Johnny Johnson in this manner. A style of music can become associated with a particular theme or idea. Kurt Weill was very much aware of this association and used it to his advantage several times during his European career. Weill scholar Kim Kowalke, in Kurt Weill in Europe, identifies several examples of Weill’s use of dance music in plays like The Threepenny Opera, Happy End, Mahagonny, and Marie Galante (120-121). One can readily extract “families” of musical numbers that, although unrelated to one another in form, reproduce the same or a very similar gestus through the use of standard and readily recognizable rhythmic gestures derived from dance idioms. (119) According to Kowalke, he used the waltz form on no less than fifteen occasions, including “Polly’s Lied” in The Threepenny Opera (120). It is interesting that Weill chose the waltz form for “O Heart of Love,” for Minnie Belle’s song and “Polly’s Lied” share similar circumstances. Both involve a young woman singing about love in a fatalistic, romantic way. In both cases, Weill played upon the romantic notions of the listening audience to create a feeling of passionate devotion, reflecting the attitudes of both Polly and Minnie Belle. “O Heart of Love” is only one of many examples of Weill

using the same technique in Johnny Johnson. Nine times in Weill’s European career, Weill used a tango rhythm as the core of his music, most notably “The Pimp’s Ballad” and “The Sailor’s Tango” from The Threepenny Opera and Happy End, respectively (Kowalke 120). The tango, created in the brothels of Argentina, is associated with passionate and illicit sex, and as a result becomes associated with Valentine during “Captain Valentine’s Song” just as it had with Macheath in The Threepenny Opera. Weill’s most prolific use of dance idioms, both in his European work and in Johnny Johnson, is his use of the foxtrot. Kowalke identifies eighteen examples of the foxtrot between the years of 1927 to 1934, including some of Weill’s more well-known numbers such as “The Cannon Song,” “The Ladies of Bordeaux,” and “The Bilbao Song” (120- 121). Weill uses the foxtrot in several numbers from Johnny Johnson: “The West Pointer,” “The Laughing Generals,” “The Battle,” the third verse of “The Psychiatry Song,” and moments during “Johnny’s Song.” While the examples of popular dance music demonstrate Weill’s continuous use of the methods described in his essay “Concerning the Gestic Character of Music,” Weill’s use of the cowboy song for “Oh the Rio Grande” shows that his theories can be flexible. While dance forms such as the waltz, tango and foxtrot transcend cultural barriers and can be easily recognized in both Europe and America, the cowboy song is a purely American invention, and Weill’s inclusion of that style of music indicates that he was writing for a distinctly American audience. In addition, Phoebe Brand’s statement that Weill “was dying to write some American songs of all kinds” indicates that he was actively researching music with which an American audience would develop an emotional and intellectual association (Hirsch 142). In addition, Weill’s theory of gestic music apparently evolved, perhaps with the help of Paul Green, during Johnny Johnson. Whereas the point of recognition previously originated from the rhythm of the piece, during Johnny Johnson Weill used recognizable melodies that create an association in the same manner that rhythm does. Weill used the bugle calls “Reveille” and “First Call,” and the songs “You’re in the Army Now,” “La Marseille” and “Blest Be The Tie that Binds” throughout the play. Each number has a preconceived association for an audience, and when an audience recognizes the melody, the associated meaning becomes clear. It is

an evolved type of musical gestus that Weill had not considered in 1929 when he wrote “Concerning the Gestic Character of Music.” In his essay, “On Gestic Music,” Brecht distinguishes the difference between gestus and social gestus. A social gest is a physical manifestation that represents a societal interaction. However, if gestus is social by its very nature, then Brecht’s social gestus becomes specific to moments where the gest reflects a political attitude. In this manner, Green creates several examples of social gestus in Johnny Johnson through context. In “Song of the Goddess,” Green writes a song about unfeeling metal being used to justify warlike actions. By placing such words in the inanimate mouth of the Statue of Liberty, a representation of liberty, democracy and the United States, Green is stating that liberty becomes man’s excuse to wage war by purporting a noble motivation to violent action. In the same way, Green uses the “Sea Song,” a song sung while performing normal working activities, during a war. The context suggests that the British soldiers singing the song have grown accustomed to the horrors of war and regard war as an accepted part of life. Apparently, Green also reasoned that if a group of characters participated in a song, then everyone singing would be expressing the same gestus. As a result, he wrote a few instances where Johnny specifically abstains from singing along with the rest of the chorus such as “The Democracy March” and The Sea Song.” Such an absence would therefore indicate that Johnny doesn’t have the same gest as others in the scene do. Green understood that gestus is communicated by the actor through outward manifestations such as body language, vocal intonation, and facial expression. As a result, Green included in his stage directions several occasions where the expression of the characters inner state is manifested in physical gesture. Green was very specific in his directions, implying that he knew the associations the gestures would create and he wished to maintain as much control over those gestures as an author could. Examples of Green’s gestic action include the mayor’s half-fascist, half raspberry salute, Sergeant Jackson’s Krazy Kat-like movements, Johnny’s inability to march in synch with the rest of his squad, and the British soldiers’ casual indifference to bullets whizzing by. Johnny Johnson contains gestic music, action, and lyrics throughout the entire piece from the Mayor’s Fascist salute in the opening moments of the play to Johnny’s song with its elements of the foxtrot as the curtain closes.

Green and Weill’s work on Johnny Johnson can be seen as an evolution of gestic theory. While they continued the tactics that Brecht and Weill used with success in Europe, they also found new ways the express the inner life of the characters. One method is the use of what one could call visual gestus. Considering that the main thrust of Weill’s theory is that the use of recognizable musical rhythms can trigger an emotional or intellectual association, then by extension, a recognizable visual representation can also trigger an emotional or intellectual association, and the representation can vary from the general to the iconic. Not only does the use of visual gestus draw it influence from Weill’s theories, but it also can draw a parallel to Brecht’s definition of gestic action. It will be recalled that in Brecht’s essay “Short Description of a New Technique of Acting which Produces an Alienation Effect,” he explains that gestus is a quality primarily presented by actors. “Everything to do with the emotions has to be externalized; that is to say, it must be developed into a gesture” (139). The purpose of the gesture is to communicate the inner state of the character, what Kowalke describes as “the translation of dramatic emotion and individual characterization into a typical, reproducible physical realization” (117). Therefore, the gesture must take the form of a recognizable action that can signify to an audience a universal human behavior. As such, the basic concept differs very little from Weill’s idea of a musical idiom creating a specific association. The actor’s gestures create a specific association, and so does visual stimulation. Throughout Johnny Johnson, Green continually uses visual elements specified in his stage directions to create visual associations for the audience. From the very first scene, Green creates an environment that has a specific association. The monument to peace is described as a “funeral obelisk-like” structure, and the men and women assembled are dressed in dark clothes with the men holding their hats over their hearts (3). Without hearing a line of spoken dialogue, the audience may conclude from visual inspection alone that the play starts off at a funeral. It is only when the mayor begins to speak that it becomes clear that the scene is a monument dedication, but as the audience has already made the association with a funeral, the object of the dedication takes the place of the deceased. As such the context of the scene suggests that peace itself is dead. By no coincidence, Green chooses to set this event on the same day that the United States entered the war, suggesting that peace itself died when America, who had so far managed

to avoid the conflict, committed itself to World War One. Green makes the assumption that the average audience member could recognize a funeral and thereby make a connection, a funeral being a common event that most people have to attend in their lifetime, but Green also uses specific visual references to make similar connections. Weill’s theories promote the use of recognizable rhythms to create a connection, and by extension, Green uses the same idea to promote visual stimulation, but until Johnny Johnson, Weill generally used recognizable music in a general sense, using waltz and foxtrot rhythms for example. In Johnny Johnson, as previously mentioned, Weill evolved these theories to include specific musical melodies, such as “Reveille,” “First Call,” “You’re in the Army Now,” “La Marseillaise,” and “Blest Be The Tie that Binds,” to create the desired associations, taking a step from the general to the specific. Green also takes his use of visual gestus from the general to the specific by including visual pictures with specific meaning and connotation, an iconic gestus using items with a particular signification. The clearest example of this type of visual gestus is the use of the Statue of Liberty at the end of Act One. The statue is an image that the entire audience would know, if not from images in the media then by the presence of the statue itself, only six miles away from the theatre. The audience cannot help but to instantly recall all the emotion and intelligence associated with the image of the statue, so when she says “I who never nothing meant/ Am used to send men forth to die,” she means men use her existence to justify warlike actions (31). Later, in Act Two, the German sniper Johan hides in a hollowed-out statue of Christ, which later topples during the battle. Christians and non-Christians alike would easily recognize the image and know for what it stands. For many, it symbolizes the Christian religion, which emphasizes peace, tolerance, and forgiveness. As such the destruction of the representation becomes the destruction of peace and tolerance as ideals, made even more significant when combined with the two priests reciting the prayer while the statue falls. The event demonstrates the contradiction between what is said and what is done, suggesting that the Church’s official stance on the war is one of silent consent. In addition to iconic images such as the Statue of Liberty and a statue of Christ, Green also uses specific people in his play such as the Pershing and the officers in Act Two and the inmates to resemble Roosevelt and other politicians in Act Three, extending the concept of recognizable visual representation to specific individuals

who have a detailed and public history. Like most public and historical figures, these men have detailed histories associated with their public personas, and as such they represent the ideas that they championed. For example, as stated before, Brother Theodore represents Roosevelt’s stated opinion that the United States must make preparations for warfare in order to keep the nation secure. Green’s use of visual gestus, both general and iconic demonstrates an evolution from Weill and Brecht’s original writings on the matter. In a compilation of Paul Green’s works, A Paul Green Reader, Laurence Avery describes the use of music in many of Green’s plays such as Lost Colony. It is a rare Green story or play that does not make prominent use of music, but the purposes of the music Green includes are untypical in that they are not used to intensify feelings or to rouse an audience through rhythm. The key to understanding the music in Green’s work is to realize that most of it is “real” music—that is, songs and other pieces that exist in the world outside his imaginative works and will be known by some or many readers and audience members… Green’s purpose was to convey a sense of the Elizabethan musical consciousness as a way of characterizing the colonists. (172) Avery’s statement confirms Weill’s lasting influence on Green in his use of gestic theatre throughout his career. Although the terms gest, gestic, or gestus do not appear in criticism of Green’s work, Green use of music to characterize the colonists bears a striking familiarity to Weill’s statement years before that music “can even create a type of fundamental gestus which prescribes a definite attitude for the actor” (“Concerning the Gestic Character of Music” 492). If music can impose an exact attitude, then it can be described as producing a specific characterization for an actor to use in the interpretation of the character. In effect, it defines the character, which is what Avery states that Green was intending to do with the music in Lost Colony. Furthermore, the method in which Green uses music in his later plays, such as Lost Colony, is the same method that he used in Johnny Johnson. In Johnny Johnson, Green made use of several well-known hymns in order to create an association with the audience, and, as Avery says above, most of the songs that Green used in his plays were well known to members of his audience. Here we see Kurt Weill’s influence. The basis of Weill’s theory about gestus revolves around

manipulating an established piece of work in order to foster an emotional and intellectual relationship between the audience and the play. The audience would react to the familiarity and transfer whatever feelings or thought they have to the actor and situation, essentially communicating to the audience a specific attitude or gest. While Paul Green’s work after Johnny Johnson was mainly devoted to symphonic theatre, elements of gestic theatre appear throughout his work, although not quite to the extent as in Johnny Johnson. Weill, of course, continued to create gestic music for the remainder of his career. Weill biographer Foster Hirsch describes a moment in Weill’s famous “September Song” from Knickerbocker Holiday: “Weill supports Stuyvesant with a progression that hesitates on two unstable chords, as if the character is fearful of continuing” (172). Weill displays the subtext of the character through the choice of unbalanced chords, revealing an inner truth through his music. He also continued to explore American music throughout his career. Collaborator Langston Hughes reports that he and Weill would go to Harlem nightclubs and listen to children playing on the street to research music for Street Scene (350). Obviously, Weill was looking for that authentic bit of rhythm or melody to build his music around. He would use bits of popular dance forms such as the rumba and bolero in Lady in the Dark, even using music from Gilbert and Sullivan’s The Mikado. The difference between Brecht’s concept of gestus and Weill’s theories on the same subject is, as stated before, a chicken-and-egg-like paradox. Is gestus the existing condition or the end result? Brecht asserted that gestus exclusively contained a social context and is the starting point upon which actions are based; Weill saw gestus as the end result, reflecting the pre-existing condition. In the case of Johnny Johnson, all the gestic elements reflect the unnaturalness of a warlike state, a condition that the common man, personified in Johnny, cannot abide, and therefore works to change that condition. Utilizing Brecht’s approach with that interpretation would mean that peace is the social condition and that all other actions are based on that idea, which is clearly not the case. Johnny is the only character in whom peace could be the social condition. The rest of society as portrayed in Johnny Johnson is a war-like state. Clearly, Johnny Johnson follows Weill’s notion that gestus is the reflection of the state. If the gestus is that war is

an unnatural state, then the preexisting condition is the warlike state of the United States during World War I. The social message can be simply stated that war destroys lives. However Johnny Johnson delves into more complex issues involving war, the nature of patriotism, and the ignorance of those who do not fight. Often in the play, we see citizens of the United States who are blindly patriotic, who do not question the motives for the war, but instead place their entire faith in their government. As the threat of war looms, there is no room for any other emotion. Minnie Belle is an ideal example of such unwavering patriotism as she chides Johnny when he speaks of love to her and refuses to marry him unless he enlists. For her, there is no question, but there is also no risk. As a woman, Minnie Belle would never have served in any military capacity, never have been drafted, or never have been required to lift a finger in the war effort. Women, of course, could volunteer to serve as nurses or other support capacity as seen in Act Two, but Minnie Belle, for all her patriotic jingoism, does not volunteer. She only asks Johnny how many Germans he killed. Minnie Belle certainly gives the impression that her only interest is the status of the man she will marry. Had Johnny killed a dozen Germans and returned a war hero, would she have still married Anguish? It is very easy for Minnie Belle to speak of war and duty to country, when she will never be asked to support her statement with action. Anguish Howington is the perfect example of the person who supports the war with his public face while takes extreme measures to avoid active service in private. On the advice of Aggie, he makes himself physically unfit for duty, sparing him the responsibility of fighting for his country and giving him an excuse to defend himself. It’s easy for him to claim that he wanted to go, but the Army doctors wouldn’t release him for service, for no one can contradict him. Of course it is also interesting to note that once Anguish is mayor of the town, he is publicly in favor of war, as he tells his son. Anguish can be compared to many modern politicians who avoided service in Vietnam by various means such as appointments to the National Guard or overseas scholarships. Certainly the careers of politicians Dan Quayle, Bill Clinton, Phil Gramm, Pat Buchanan, and pundits George Will and Rush Limbaugh can testify that one can avoid service in wartime and still embark on a successful career in politics (Franken 66-67). It is easy for Anguish to talk tough about going to war because he’s never faced war before, and neither has

Captain Valentine or the West Point Lieutenant. Yet they are the ones who speak most forcefully in favor of the war. By contrast the men who actually participate in combat are more than eager for the war to be over and even celebrate with each other when they believe a truce has been declared. Some of the men, like Private Harwood, yearn for home. To sum up, not only are Weill and Green stating that war is bad, which admittedly is a simple concept, but they also assert that anyone who has experienced war first-hand, like they did during World War I, cannot help but see the folly of it and make efforts to prevent war. Although their message can be taken to mean war in general, the time of the original production places the message of the play within a specific context. There can be no coincidence that in the same year Johnny Johnson was produced, Hitler invaded the Rhineland and announced with Mussolini the Rome-Berlin Axis (Grun 510). Winston Churchill had already warned the British government his concerns about German airplane production in defiance of treaties in 1934 with the Luftwaffe formed the following year, and concentration camps had already been erected for years (Grun 504, 510). The Group Theatre is warning America to stay out of the coming war, much like Charlie Chaplin did with his film The Great Dictator four years later (Grun 517). In light of the historical context, Johnny Johnson is clearly a play protesting the coming war much in the same way as Euripides’ The Trojan Women can be seen as a play protesting the Peloponnesian War. Although the play was written specifically with the coming of World War II in mind, the messages and concepts can be applied to war in any age, such as the recent Second Gulf War, and can resonate with a contemporary audience. For example, Johnny Johnson demonstrates how an individual can be ostracized when he doesn’t agree with public opinion, particularly during wartime. The recent backlash that occurred when Natalie Maines, lead singer of country group The Dixie Chicks, expressed her displeasure with President Bush22 can be compared to the many times Johnny is labeled as unpatriotic or a traitor. Using the concept of liberty as an excuse to wage war after the sinking of the Laconia can be compared to the motive of protection from terrorism after the devastating

22 Maines told a London crowd on March 20, 2003, “We’re ashamed the president of the United States is from Texas.” As a result, media conglomerate Cumulus Broadcasting removed their songs from regular rotation from their country stations (Eliscu, Swanson and Tsang 26).

attacks on the World Trade Center and the Pentagon. The English Sergeant’s claim that the war would never end due to the business it generates can reflect the corporations who stand to profit from the rebuilding of Iraq. It would seem that the message that Green and Weill were trying to convey with Johnny Johnson is more important than ever. The choice of staging a revival at this point in time would undoubtedly been seen as a comment on American foreign policy and could very well suffer a backlash like Maines and other oppositionists, but perhaps the message would be worth the risk to revive this production. It is difficult to imagine a play like Johnny Johnson being produced on Broadway today. One cannot help but believe that if they were still alive, Green, Weill, and members of the Group would not approve of current events, but the potential threat to their careers may not entitle them to say so in such a public forum. Weill’s theories are alive today. Many musicals written in the last decade employ gestic music, although arguably not as subtle as Weill’s own work. Musicals use either a small piece of identifiable rhythm or an entire style of song to express an inner state. As was earlier noted, the tango, as an example, engenders an association with sex and violence. In Kander and Ebb’s Chicago, the inmates perform the “Cell Block Tango,” where women describe in detail how each of them murders her unfaithful lover. Another example to consider would be “Hernando’s Hideaway” from Adler and Ross’ The Pajama Game. The tune is a tango, and the lyrics describe a place where people can meet for a secret sexual rendezvous. The music, supported by the lyrics, suggests a dark illicit sexuality, affecting the audience in the same way as “Captain Valentine’s Tango.” However, one may argue that these examples are straightforward uses of the genre as opposed Weill’s use of the music to explain the inner state of the characters as the subtext and the spoken dialogue of “Cell Block Tango” and “Hernando’s Hideaway” are one and the same. Another example would be the use of Irving Berlin’s song “White Christmas” in Jonathan Larson’s Rent. During the song “Christmas Bells,” a number of riot-guard clad police officers sing, “I’m dreaming of a white Christmas.” The song is easily recognizable, even for people who haven’t seen Holiday Inn, and an association between the tune and traditional Christmas sentiment is already established. But Larson takes things a step further by shortening the note on which the word “white” is sung. The variation of a familiar tune attracts attention to the word “white,” and as such gives the

characters of the policemen a particular attitude. The white Christmas that they are dreaming of is a Caucasian one, reflecting a social gestus such as described in Brecht’s writings. Unfortunately, gestic music is dependant upon the audience’s understanding of the musical form or song that the author uses to express the inner workings of the characters. Modern musical composers may find themselves appealing to the lowest common denominator in their audience. Like a joke that has to be explained to the listener, gestic music can only be effective if the audience is familiar with the music. As such gestic music is not universal, but of its own time. Johnny Johnson may be a wonderful play, but time has diluted its power because the references needed to demonstrate the social environment within the play are slowly being forgotten. After almost seventy years, today’s audiences are not as familiar with the musical forms and cultural references of the 1930s as the audiences who watched the production at the Forty-Fourth Street Theatre in 1936. Green must have known that the play would lose some of its universality, but in the 1971 edition he describes the time of the play as “Years ago as well as now” (6). Perhaps he was trying to infuse the production with a timeless quality that it could never truly have, for Johnny Johnson is a gestic piece, and gestus, just like Weill himself once was, is not concerned with lasting for all time, but for the here and now.

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--- “On Rhythmless Verse with Irregular Rhythm.” (“Über reimlose Lyrik mit unregelmässigen Rhythmen” Das Wort. No. 3. Moscow, 1939. Rpt. in Brecht on Theatre: The Development of an Aesthetic. Ed. and trans. John Willett. 13th edition. New York: Hill and Wang, 1977. 115-120.

--- “Short Description of a New Technique of Acting Which Produces an Alienation Effect.” (“Kurze Beschreibung einer neuen Technik der Schauspielkunst, die einen Verfremdungseffekt hervorbringt”) Versuche 11, 1951. Rpt. in Brecht on Theatre: The Development of an Aesthetic. Ed. and trans. John Willett. 13th edition. New York: Hill and Wang, 1977. 136-147.

--- “Short Organum for the Theatre.” (“Kleines Organon für das Theater”) Sinn und Form, Postdam, 1949. Rpt. in Brecht on Theatre: The Development of an Aesthetic. Ed. and trans. John Willett. 13th edition. New York: Hill and Wang, 1977. 179-205.

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Eliscu, Jenny, David Swanson, and Teri Tsang. “Dixie Chicks Boycott.” Rolling Stone. 17 April 2003: 26.

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--- In Abraham’s Bosom. Rpt. in A Paul Green Reader. Ed. and introduction, Laurence G. Avery. Chapel Hill: U of North Carolina P, 1988.

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--- Notes, Folders 3061B, 3062 and 3063 in the Paul Green Papers #3696, General and Literary Manuscripts, Wilson Library, University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill.

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BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH

Michael Patrick Nolan was born in 1973 in Erie, Pennsylvania where he attended Mercyhurst Preparatory School, a Catholic high school with an inspiring drama teacher, Kathleen Cannarozzi-Harris. In school, he discovered theatre and participated in several school productions and performed with the local community theatre, The Erie Playhouse. Michael attended The Pennsylvania State University Main Campus from 1991 to 1995 majoring in Theatre. At Penn State, Michael was involved in a number of productions both with the Theatre Department and independent student organizations, including writing, performing and directing an adaptation of Douglas Adams’ The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. With the student organization The Outlaw Playwrights, Michael directed a number of original works in addition to a few one-act plays that he authored. After graduating, Michael joined the staff of the Astor’s Beechwood Theatre Company in Newport, Rhode Island where he served as Wardrobe Master and House Manager for the 1996 season. At Beechwood he was a co-author of The Astor Affair, an interactive- murder mystery set in a nineteenth century Victorian mansion. In 1997, Michael moved to New York City to pursue work as an actor. He appeared in several non-union performances with such groups as the Paper Lace Theatre Company and the Village Light Opera Group. A diverse member of the theatre community, Michael served as costume designer in two productions with the Paper Lace Theatre Company, as set construction chief for the Village Light Opera Group, served as a committee member of VLOGworks, a subset of the Village Light Opera Group that determined workshops and studio shows, and appeared as an extra in The Thomas Crowne Affair. Michael was a co- founder of The Iron Crow Theatre Company and directed and adapted their first two

productions, Shakespeare on Crack, based on Romeo and Juliet and Hamlet. Michael moved to Tallahassee, Florida to attend The Florida State University in 2001. At Florida State, Michael appeared as an actor in two Mainstage productions as well as worked as a dramaturg on a third. Michael has been involved in Capital City Shakespeare, a group focused on educating high school students on performing Shakespeare. In 2003, Michael presented a selection of his paper “The Battle of the Alamo: Negative Representations of Mexicans on Stage” at the 28th Annual Conference on Literature and Film at Turnbull Conference Center at Florida State University. After graduation, Michael plans to move to central Florida to continue his career.

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