I Rise in Flame, Cried the Phoenix

by Tennessee Williams

Genres: Plays, Literature, Theatre, American

72 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 1951

About the author

Thomas Lanier Williams III, better known by the nickname Tennessee Williams, was a major American playwright of the twentieth century who received many of the top theatrical awards for his work. He moved to New Orleans in 1939 and changed his name to "Tennessee," the state of his father's birth.

Raised in St. Louis, Missouri, after years of obscurity, at age 33 he became famous with the success of The Glass Menagerie (1944) in New York City. This play closely reflected his own unhappy family background. It was the first of a string of successes, including A Streetcar Named Desire (1947), Cat on a Hot Tin Roof (1955), Sweet Bird of Youth (1959), and The Night of the Iguana (1961). With his later work, he attempted a new style that did not appeal to audiences. His drama A Streetcar Named Desire is often numbered on short lists of the finest American plays of the 20th century, alongside Eugene O'Neill's Long Day's Journey into Night and Arthur Miller's Death of a Salesman.

Much of Williams' most acclaimed work has been adapted for the cinema. He also wrote short stories, poetry, essays and a volume of memoirs. In 1979, four years before his death, Williams was inducted into the American Theater Hall of Fame.

From Wikipedia

Reviews

[Paula Mota · Rating 4 out of 5]

Tal como eu, mas por motivos diferentes, Tennessee Williams era um grande fã da obra de D.H. Lawrence, que considerava “provavelmente o maior monumento moderno às obscuras raízes da criação” e nesta peça imagina os últimos momentos de vida do escritor em Vence, nos Alpes Marítimos, onde ele acabaria por morrer vítima de tuberculose, ao lado da sua mulher Frieda, em 1930.
“Ergo-me em chamas, gritou a Fénix” abre com uma soberba descrição do estado debilitado de Lawrence, pouco antes do pôr-do-sol, tendo em pano de fundo uma insígnia de seda a representar a Fénix, o símbolo preferido do autor…

As mãos, que tinham agarrado a terrível matéria da vida e a tinham transformado em plástico, estão cruzadas sobre uma manta preta e branca axadrezada, de inválido. Os dedos longos, de mineiro galês, com pelos louros e nós salientes feitos para arrancar o coração negro à terra, estão cruzados com uma rigidez que denuncia a agitação interior. As suas narinas ligeiramente dilatadas respiram tão suavemente como se o ar fosse uma linha de seda invisível.

…que, apesar de tudo, ainda não perdeu o orgulho e a combatividade.

LAWRENCE: (…) Na minha derradeira hora, quero uma morte feroz e limpa, nada mais do que sentir raiva e medo, e tudo o que seja assim violento. Percebes isso, Frieda? Ainda tenho uns restos de macho em mim e é com essa parte que hei-de enfrentar a morte. Quando vier a última golfada de sangue, e já não falta muito, não quero mulheres a meter-me na cama e a aconchegar-me com cobertores.

Para aumentar a sua irascibilidade, recebe notícias da sua malograda exposição em Londres, também ela envolta em escândalo e censura.

LAWRENCE: Sim… os quadros… não eram muito bons, mas havia neles uma vida ardente.
BERTHA: Eras tu que estavas neles. Mas porque é que quiseste pintar, Lawrence?
LAWRENCE: Porque é que eu quis escrever? Porque sou um artista…? O que é um artista? Um homem que ama a vida intensamente demais, um homem que ama a vida até a odiar e ter de lhe dar murros. (…) Mas as palavras não chegavam… também precisava de cor. Desatei a pintar da mesma maneira que escrevia! Furiosamente, sem qualquer vergonha!

Numa peça com uma forte simbologia das chamas, assiste-se por fim ao ocaso.

LAWRENCE: Calem-se! Não me toquem. (Cambaleia até à janela grande). No fim há-de haver luz… Luz, luz! (Ergue a voz e levanta os braços como um profeta bíblico.) Uma grande luz!... Maravilhosa, que cega, uma luz universal!

[Illiterate · Rating 2 out of 5]

A sympathetic portrayal of D. H. Lawrence’s death, echoing his style and ideas.

[Jared · Rating 2 out of 5]

A very short work and unfortunately definitely not Williams at his best

[Jim · Rating 5 out of 5]

A delightful one-act play about the death of novelist D H Lawrence. It's probably my favorite among Tennessee Williams's one-acts.

[Jojo · Rating 2 out of 5]

This was alright...didn't know D.H. Lawrence also painted.

[Owen Lucas · Rating 2 out of 5]

This is a strange piece of writing. It's short, even for a one-act play, and the language is so dense and symbolic that it feels quite a lot like a dramatic poem. The subject is DH Lawrence's death, but the style is that of a hasty fan-fiction. The things the characters say about Lawrence sound little like the words real people speak to real people, and a lot like lazy literary criticism. At one point, Lawrence is told "you look into the dark roots of sexuality" or something to that effect. It's all fairly obvious stuff. When it's less obvious, you'll still wish Williams had just written a short essay on Lawrence, instead of inflicting a cod-scenario on you in order to get across whatever vaguely personality-cultish ideas he's trying to push here.
A more mundane problem is that, with the play being so short, every line spoken is either dead-on-arrival exposition, or forms part of the dramatic climax. There are no intermediate stages where the themes build, grow, combine, strengthen. You just get slapped with the who, what, where, and when, and... oh wait now he's dying, or becoming a god, or... oh now it's done. The pathos provided by the spectacle of a famous author's death comes relatively cheap, and Williams doesn't temper it with much more than fuzzy symbolism. Not his best stuff.

[Ala'a · Rating 4 out of 5]

"I had to have color, too. I took to paint and I painted the way that I wrote! Fiercely, without any shame! This is life, I told them, life is like this! Wonderful! Dark! Terrific! They banned my books and wanted to burn my pictures! That's how it is ... When first you look at sun it strikes you blind. Life is ... blinding ..."

[Sarah · Rating 3 out of 5]

Eh. This play was... weird. While it concerns the death of D. H. Lawrence, it doesn't seem to have much of a coherent story outside of the fact that.. well.. it's about D. H. Lawrence. Woo hoo. It's a very mediocre work that I cannot bring myself to have sufficient words for, unfortunately.

[Brandon · Rating 3 out of 5]

Interesting...interesting.

[Isadora Wagner · Rating 3 out of 5]

An odd play by Tennessee Williams about the death of D.H. Lawrence.