The Cavern

The Cavern is one of M. Anouilh's most audacious experiments.  He puts himself on the stage as the guileful conjuror who fumblingly tells the audience that he thinks his tricks will not come off.  He talks so persuasively that one begins to believe that his old skill has apparently deserted him.  It really does look as if the story of the murder of the seduced cook, of the aristocratic indifference of her employers and of the distresses of her seminarist son is going to miss its effect.  But Anouilh is of course only playing with us.  He has the greatest natural genius for the stage of any man living, and when the moment comes, the knife is once again planted unerringly in our stomachs and our guts come tumbling out.