IN MEXICAN THEATERS.
Mexico does not know how a nation mourned for one Virginius like
McCullough; has never witnessed Barrett's Cassius and David Garrick,
or been thrilled with O'Neill's Monte Cristo; has never looked on Mary
Anderson's exquisite form and cold, unsympathetic acting; has missed
Margaret Mather's insipid simper and Kate Castleton's fascinating
wickedness; is wholly unconscious of Little Lotta's wondrous kick and
Minnie Palmer's broadness; has never seen pretty Minnie Maddern's "In
Spite of All," and a mother of fifty odd years successfully transformed
into a child of nine--Fanchon; is in blissful ignorance of "Pinafore"
and "Mikado," and yet she lives and has theaters.
The most fashionable theater in Mexico is the National. President Diaz
always attends, and of course the elite follow suit. It is well to
say the president always attends, for there is little else to go to.
Bull-fights, theaters, and driving are all the pleasures of Mexican
life; the president gives no receptions or dinners, and entertains no
Thursday or Saturday afternoon callers, so before death entered his
family circle he was at the theater almost every night.
No paid advertising is done by theaters in the papers. Once in a while
they, with the exception of the National, send around bills of their
coming plays, accompanied by two tickets. For this they get a week's
advertising; cheap rates, eh? Besides this they have native artists
who select the most horrible scene to depict in water colors on cloth
and hang at the entrance; these "cartels" changed necessarily with
every play, as billboards are in the States, and some of them are
most ludicrous and horrible in the extreme. The Saturday I reached
Mexico one of the theaters had on its boards a play, the cartel of
which represented the crucifixion. What the play was could not be
ascertained.
Sunday is the most fashionable theater day. Every person who can
possibly collect together enough money goes, from the poor, naked peon
to the Spanish millionaire. On Monday all amusement houses are closed
and many are only open every other day throughout the entire week; they
are not at all particular about fulfilling engagements. A play may
be billed for a certain night and on arrival there the servant will
politely inform you it is postponed until mauana (to-morrow), and all
you can do is to go back home and await their pleasure.
The National Theater is a fine building with accommodations for 4,500
persons. The first entrance is a wide open space faced with mammoth
pillars. Going up the steps you enter, through a heavily draped
doorway, the vestibule or hall. Along the sides are racks where
gentlemen and ladies deposit their wraps. The orchestra, or pit--the
fashionable quarter in American theaters--is known as the "Lunetas."
The seats are straight-backed, leather-covered chairs of ancient shape
and most uncomfortable style. They were evidently fashioned more for
durability than beauty, being made of very heavy, unpainted wood.
Narrow passageways intersect each other, and wooden benches are placed
along the seats to serve as foot-rests. Down in front of the stage is
the orchestra, flanked at either end by long benches running lengthwise
of the stage. Boxes, six stories in height, look out upon the stage,
and balconies circle the room. The balconies are divided into
compartments holding eight persons. Common, straight chairs, with large
mirrors on the door and walls, are the only furnishment. The "Lunetas"
command seventy-five cents to $1.50; Palcos (boxes) $2 a chair, and the
Galeria (the sixth row of balconies) twenty-five cents.
At 8.30 the orchestra strikes up, people come in and find their
places, and about 9 o'clock the curtain goes up and silence reigns;
the enthusiasm which is manifested at bull-fights is absent here.
Everything is accepted and witnessed with an air of boredom and
martyrdom that is quite pathetic. More time is spent gazing around at
the audience than at the players. Everybody carries opera-glasses, and
makes good use of them.
Without doubt you would like to know how they dress; the men--who
always come first, you know--wear handsome suits, displaying
immaculate shirt-front and collar that would make Eastern dudes turn
green with envy. Generally the suit is entirely black, yet some wear
light pantaloons. High silk opera-hats and a large display of jewelry
finish the handsome Spanish man.
The ladies wear full dress, always light in color--pink, blue, pea
green, white, etc.--trimmed with flowers, ribbons or handsome laces.
The hair is arranged artistically, and the dresses are always cut very
low, displaying neck and arms such as only Mexican women possess. Very
handsome combs and pins generally grace the hair. Young girls sometimes
wear flowers, but it is considered better taste to wear the artificial
article, because the real are so cheap, and the former, unsurpassed
by nature, command very high prices. A Mexican woman would not be
dressed without the expensive fan which she flits before her face
with exquisite grace. The prevailing style is a point lace fan, which
adds beauty to the face and, at the same time, does not hide it from
beholders, for, let it be whispered, Mexican girls are fond of being
looked at. A lady considers it the highest compliment she can receive
for a man to stare at her for a long time, and the men come quite up to
the point of being extremely complimentary.
The prompter's box is fixed in front of the stage, and his voice is not
only heard continually above that of the actors, but his candle and
hands are always visible, and he often takes time to peep out and take
a survey of the audience; but the Mexicans do not notice him any more
than the footlights. A bell, which sounds as heavy as a church bell,
rings and the curtain falls. Well, it is a sight! The managers farm
out the drop-curtain to business men by the square. The enterprising
advertiser has painted on a piece of cloth his place of business and
curious signs. One shows a man riding a fat pig, and from out the man's
mouth comes the word "Carne" (beef). How they make beef out of pork
is unknown. Saloons take up the most prominent place. A house bearing
the sign "Pulque" had the side knocked out, displaying a barrel which
filled the building from floor to roof. Cupid was astride a barrel,
sipping pulque from an immense schooner, forgetting in his enjoyment
his usual occupation of softening other people's brains with love's
wine. One fat, bald-headed old fellow had gone to sleep with a generous
smile on his open countenance, while from a large glass which he held
in his hand the drink was running down his coat sleeve. Another fellow,
equally fat and equally bald, was gazing at a full champagne glass
in drunken adoration. These are a few of the curious inducements for
people to patronize certain stores. The signs are only pinned on, and
as the curtain comes tumbling down they fly, work and twist in the most
comical style.
Naturally the spectators would grow tired gazing at such a thing, so
between acts the ladies visit one another, and the men rise in their
seats, put on their hats, turn their backs toward the stage, and survey
the people, English fashion. They smoke their cigarettes, chat to
one another, and discuss the women. The cow-bell rings again, people
commence to embrace and kiss, and when the third bell rings, hats are
off, cigarettes extinguished, and every one in place in time to see the
curtain, after being down for thirty minutes, rise.
Theaters close anywhere between 12.30 and three o'clock. The audience
applaud very little, unless some one is murdered artistically. If a few
feel like applauding other fine points, they are quickly silenced by
the thousands of hisses which issue from all quarters of the house, and
a Mexican hiss has no equal in the world. Ladies do not applaud, never
look pleased or interested, but sit like so many statues, calmly and
stupidly indifferent. After the play every one who can afford it goes
to some restaurant for refreshments. Mexicans are not easily pleased
with plays; and the only time they enjoy themselves is when they have a
"Zarzuela"--a cross between a comic opera and a drama. Then they forget
to hiss, and enter into the spirit of the play with as much vim as an
American.
Some Mexicans are quite famous as play-writers. When a new piece is
ready for the boards a house is rented, and it is presented in fine
style, the occasion being a sort of social gathering. Being invited,
the other night, to attend one, I concluded to see what it was like.
The author had one of his plays translated into English--the name now
forgotten--which has met with great success in the States. I thought
this would be endurable. As I entered with some ladies an usher in
full dress and white kid gloves presented each of us with beautiful
bouquets, and offering his arm to the ladies, escorted the party to the
box with the air and manner of a prince. Once in the box, he gave us
little programmes, went out, and locked the door. Interested, I watched
the people as they came in and arranged themselves comfortably. Much
amused and even disconcerted we were when we found hundreds of glasses
turned our way and held there long and steadily, as they saw we were
"greengoes," or foreigners, and with feminine timidity we thanked our
lucky stars we had ventured forth without a bonnet--as no woman ever
wears a hat to the theater here--so that the difference would not have
been more pronounced.
At last the curtain went up, and before the actress, who was sitting
on a chair, crying, could issue one blubber, dozens of bouquets were
flung at her feet. Not understanding the words the play seemed most
absurd. Apparently the girl could not marry her lover because her
mother had forbidden it, as another sister loved the same man, and as
he did not reciprocate she was dying; the dying sister appeared but
once, then in a nightdress, and soon afterward screamed heartily behind
the scenes and was pronounced dead by the actors. The men and women
cried continuously all the evening, and Americans dubbed the play "The
Pocket-Handkerchief." Once, when the lover told his sweetheart he was
going out to fight a duel with a dude with a big eye-glass, who had
loved the dead girl, she fainted on his breast and he held her there,
staggering beneath her weight, while he delivered a fifteen-minute
eulogy. As she was about two feet taller and twice as heavy as he,
the scene was most comical, particularly when she tried to double up
to reach his shoulder, and forgot she had fainted and moved her hands
repeatedly. But smothering our American mirth we looked on in sympathy.
How it ended I cannot tell, for at 2 o'clock I started for home and the
players were then weeping with as much vigor as when the curtain first
rose.
The carvings and finishing of the National Theater are superb. It is
surpassed by few in the States, but the walls are smeared and dirty--no
curtains deck the boxes, uncomfortable chairs are alone procurable,
and, all in all, the house is about as filthy as one can find in
Mexico. It is rumored that Sarah Bernhardt is to come to Mexico next
December with a French troupe, and as French is as common as Spanish
here, she will doubtless have large houses. It is to be hoped the
managers will awaken to the fact that the house needs a scrubbing down
and fumigating before that time.
As stated before, young men do not need to keep back their
washerwoman's money to be able to take their best girl to the theater.
A gentlemen and lady are never seen alone; even husband and wife, if
they have no friends, take a servant along.
Mexico supports a circus all winter. They have an amphitheater built
for the purpose, and it is the best lighted and cleanest spot in the
city. It is open afternoons and evenings, except Monday. The seats
are arranged theater-like--pit, boxes and balconies. Some very good
performing is done, but Spanish jokes by the clowns and very daring
feats on horseback are the only acts which gain applause from the
Mexicans. The menagerie, for which they charge twenty-five cents
extra, is not well attended, as the people can see more in the museum
for nothing, and they prefer the beasts stuffed, to being stuffed
themselves or stuffing another man's purse for the sight of a lion,
monkey and striped donkey.