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The Stendhal Syndrome: Two Plays: Full Frontal Nudity and Prelude and Liebestod
The Stendhal Syndrome is named for the French novelist, who on a visit to Florence had such a visceral and physical reaction to its beauty that he wrote, "I felt a pulsating in my heart. Life was draining out of me, while I walked fearing a fall." Now Terrence McNally, one of our most beloved playwrights, has crafted two stunning and witty plays about art and how it transforms us. Full Frontal Nudity explores the reaction of three American tourists to the perfection and beauty of Michelangelo's David. In Prelude and Liebstod, a renowned conductor watches his life unravel while conducting Wagner's musical masterpiece. With its world premiere in the winter of 2004 starring Frank Langella and Isabella Rossellini, The Stendhal Syndrome will join the ranks of important plays by this American master.
96 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2004
About the author
Terrence McNally
106 books34 followersTerrence McNally was an American playwright, librettist, and screenwriter. Described as "the bard of American theater" and "one of the greatest contemporary playwrights the theater world has yet produced," McNally was the recipient of five Tony Awards. He won the Tony Award for Best Play for Love! Valour!
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Displaying 1 - 5 of 5 reviews
November 10, 2022
What does great art do to people?
Terrence McNally explores this question, with wonderfully resonant results, in Full Frontal Nudity, the first half of the double-bill The Stendhal Syndrome. The art is Michelangelo's David. The spectators are three American tourists--Lana, a not-so-dumb blonde who missed this morning's breakfast; Leo, from Pittsburgh, an aggressively macho guy who is trying to put the moves on Lana; and Hector, a college instructor who recently lost his wife and child. Also taking in the great sculpture is Bimbi, their worldly European tour guide, who takes very seriously her mission to allow her charges to get the most out of their once-in-a-lifetime encounter with a work of rare and transcendent beauty.
It may not sound like a particularly dramatic idea for a play, but McNally makes it truly compelling, bouncing back and forth between the conversation actually spoken by these characters and the thoughts popping into their heads. The latter are often the most revealing: Hector's stream-of-consciousness ramble as he gazes lovingly at the David feels spectacularly real, for example, flowing naturally from his inability to find just the right words to describe what he's feeling to his random musing about what ever happened to Steve Reeves. Here, perhaps more than anywhere else in the play, McNally nails how we really react to art: intuitively, unpredictably, and wide-rangingly. Most instructive.
Yet throughout McNally continually surprises us with insight about his subject. At one point, Lana decides that what she wants to do, more than anything in the world, is to touch the statue. Bimbi, though empathetic, advises against it; buttoned-up Hector is appalled at the idea. But Lana has a good reason: it's just an object, after all, a thing created by another human being--by definition, then, ripe for engagement rather than adoration. Unexpected wisdom and profundity emanates from an unlikely source.
The second piece, Prelude & Liebestod, features an egomaniacal conductor leading orchestra and soloist in a life-changing and -affirming performance of Wagner. Prelude is almost the obverse of Nudity, offering a glance at what it means not to enjoy art but to create it; it's also a practical illustration of the "syndrome" that gives the evening its name, with its leading character experiencing an erotic (as opposed to an intellectual) response to the grand music he is making.
The play happens inside the conductor's mind, revealing his thoughts about his work and his sex life. Watching from one box is his cool but glamorous wife and from another is a male fan hoping to find his way into the (bisexual) conductor's bed. There's also an unconfident soloist and an envious concert master. Prelude is funny but it's a lot longer than it probably ought to be; McNally indulges himself with too many esoteric cultural references and a lengthy account of a sexual experience that borders on the pornographic.
Terrence McNally explores this question, with wonderfully resonant results, in Full Frontal Nudity, the first half of the double-bill The Stendhal Syndrome. The art is Michelangelo's David. The spectators are three American tourists--Lana, a not-so-dumb blonde who missed this morning's breakfast; Leo, from Pittsburgh, an aggressively macho guy who is trying to put the moves on Lana; and Hector, a college instructor who recently lost his wife and child. Also taking in the great sculpture is Bimbi, their worldly European tour guide, who takes very seriously her mission to allow her charges to get the most out of their once-in-a-lifetime encounter with a work of rare and transcendent beauty.
It may not sound like a particularly dramatic idea for a play, but McNally makes it truly compelling, bouncing back and forth between the conversation actually spoken by these characters and the thoughts popping into their heads. The latter are often the most revealing: Hector's stream-of-consciousness ramble as he gazes lovingly at the David feels spectacularly real, for example, flowing naturally from his inability to find just the right words to describe what he's feeling to his random musing about what ever happened to Steve Reeves. Here, perhaps more than anywhere else in the play, McNally nails how we really react to art: intuitively, unpredictably, and wide-rangingly. Most instructive.
Yet throughout McNally continually surprises us with insight about his subject. At one point, Lana decides that what she wants to do, more than anything in the world, is to touch the statue. Bimbi, though empathetic, advises against it; buttoned-up Hector is appalled at the idea. But Lana has a good reason: it's just an object, after all, a thing created by another human being--by definition, then, ripe for engagement rather than adoration. Unexpected wisdom and profundity emanates from an unlikely source.
The second piece, Prelude & Liebestod, features an egomaniacal conductor leading orchestra and soloist in a life-changing and -affirming performance of Wagner. Prelude is almost the obverse of Nudity, offering a glance at what it means not to enjoy art but to create it; it's also a practical illustration of the "syndrome" that gives the evening its name, with its leading character experiencing an erotic (as opposed to an intellectual) response to the grand music he is making.
The play happens inside the conductor's mind, revealing his thoughts about his work and his sex life. Watching from one box is his cool but glamorous wife and from another is a male fan hoping to find his way into the (bisexual) conductor's bed. There's also an unconfident soloist and an envious concert master. Prelude is funny but it's a lot longer than it probably ought to be; McNally indulges himself with too many esoteric cultural references and a lengthy account of a sexual experience that borders on the pornographic.
December 16, 2023
PHENOMENAL.
like holy fuck.
like holy fuck.
March 25, 2026
I sincerely need gay writers to stop writing shit involving black people and letting it go unexamined in their writing. It's disgusting.
May 15, 2012
The Stendhal Syndrome by Terence McNally (Grove Press 2004)
Most plays are meant to be seen, but I’ve never met a good play that didn’t stand up to being read as well. These two one-acters are so well paired as to seem divinely inspired. McNally, one of the best living playwrights, is able to pack into his short philoso-comical pieces more than some playwrights can cram into a full evening. “Stendhal Syndrome” refers to a condition of being overwhelmed by art, and both works are about just that. In the first, Full Frontal Nudity, three mismatched tourists and a tour guide contemplate Michelangelo’s David, finding in it something that surpasses their own mortality. If this play doesn’t make you feel the same then you may want to check your pulse. The second, Prelude & Liebestod, is a “performance” of the opening and closing pieces from Tristan und Isolde. By turns witty and profound, it piles laugh upon laugh as the inner musings of a conductor, his wife, a concert master, the featured soprano, and fan are exposed during the music’s unfolding. As a side note, the conductor was first played by Richard Thomas of The Waltons’ “John Boy” fame, while his wife (and the tour guide) were performed by Isabella Rossellini.
Most plays are meant to be seen, but I’ve never met a good play that didn’t stand up to being read as well. These two one-acters are so well paired as to seem divinely inspired. McNally, one of the best living playwrights, is able to pack into his short philoso-comical pieces more than some playwrights can cram into a full evening. “Stendhal Syndrome” refers to a condition of being overwhelmed by art, and both works are about just that. In the first, Full Frontal Nudity, three mismatched tourists and a tour guide contemplate Michelangelo’s David, finding in it something that surpasses their own mortality. If this play doesn’t make you feel the same then you may want to check your pulse. The second, Prelude & Liebestod, is a “performance” of the opening and closing pieces from Tristan und Isolde. By turns witty and profound, it piles laugh upon laugh as the inner musings of a conductor, his wife, a concert master, the featured soprano, and fan are exposed during the music’s unfolding. As a side note, the conductor was first played by Richard Thomas of The Waltons’ “John Boy” fame, while his wife (and the tour guide) were performed by Isabella Rossellini.
March 3, 2012
I've never been a big reader of plays, but I gave Full Frontal Nudity and Prelude & Liebestod a try, and I liked them both. Lots of ideas on art and our emotional relationship to it.
Displaying 1 - 5 of 5 reviews