Britannicus

“MY TRAGEDY is as much about Agrippine’s fall from grace as it is about Britannicus’ death.” This is how Racine’s describes Britannicus in his preface. For the author, therefore, the political and family aspect was just as important as the pathos of Britannicus’ dilemma. However, this view did not necessarily reflect the sensibilities of the contemporary audience and Racine chose to name his play after a secondary character precisely because the audience of his time was moved by touching figures, of which Britannicus was the archetype.

While the subject matter was political, the context of the play’s creation was equally so. The build-up to the premiere took place in the salons where Racine first read his play, his first Roman play, inspired by Tacitus and Suetonius, and where it was suggested that he had outdone himself, writing the best tragedy of his time. It was even reported that this work would simply sweep aside previous tragedies –notably those of Corneille– taking on the dimensions of a genuine literary coup d’état. For its opening performance on 13 December 1669 at the Hôtel de Bourgogne, it was targeted by a cabal and had to compete with an execution.

It was also political through the way it was interpreted by the critics, who speculated that the play may have motivated Louis XIV to renounce one of his favourite pleasures, dancing, marking a turning point in the reign towards a displayed austerity, in keeping with Narcisse’s report to Nero that the Romans criticised his taste and practice of the theatre, deemed incompatible with the exercise of power.

The history of how Britannicus has been interpreted is very strongly determined by the balance established by the actors in the casting of the play. Initially, the title character was considered as the hero by spectators fond of weepy tragedies. The audience demanded that Floridor, a well-liked actor who played Nero in the first production, leave this detestable role for fear they should feel “obliged to wish harm upon him”. The balance of favour was inverted in 1757 when Le Kain took on the role of the emperor. His temperament incited him to play Nero as a totally wilful tyrant rather than stick to the subdued portrait of the “nascent monster”. Nero and Agrippina came to the fore as a result and politics took over from pathos.

Jean Marais’ production for the Comédie-Française in 1952 divided the audience but also caused a great stir in the Troupe. Having just been appointed as a pensionnaire destined to be cast in roles of the “princes of tragedy” type, the omnipotent Marais took charge of directing, sets and costumes for the production while also playing the role of Nero opposite Marie Bell’s Agrippine. What was seen as a power grab within the first theatre of France resonated oddly with the subject of the tragedy. Marais was booed and resigned a few months later.
On the opposite end of the spectrum to this aborted attempt to open up the institution, Michel Vitold’s 1961 staging gave two immense actors of the Comédie-Française the chance to take on characters from outside of their usual comic roles in what turned out to be a highly convincing duel: Annie Ducaux as Agrippine and Robert Hirsch as Nero.

Jean-Pierre Miquel’s interpretation in 1978 approached the play from a purely political angle, totally avoiding the psychoanalytical dimension that had dominated in recent literary criticism. In 1989, Jean-Luc Boutté’s take on the play took the opposite tack to Miquel’s reading of ten years earlier, emphasising the passions at work and the “nascent monster” in Nero, the political dimension being treated as intrinsic to the play.

The most recent production to date is that of Brigitte Jaques-Wajeman at the Théâtre du Vieux-Colombier in 2004, which brought to fore the incestuous nature of the relationship between Nero and Agrippine. As for Stéphane Braunschweig, he places himself halfway between these traditions, offering an interpretation that is driven both by politics and passion, in which power games are troubled by the emotions.