Theater has long seemed to me—in common with much other art—a Biblia Pauperum, a Bible in pictures for those who cannot read; and I see the playwright as a lay preacher peddling the ideas of his time in popular form. For this reason, theater has always been a primary school for the young, the semi-educated and women.
I have therefore thought it not unlikely that in these days, the theater, like religion, might be discarded. This opinion is confirmed by the crisis still prevailing in the major theaters.
Some playwrights, it is true, have attempted to create a new drama by using the old forms with up-to-date contents. Even so, as no new form has been devised for the new contents, the new wine has burst the old bottles.
In this play, I have not tried to do anything new. (This cannot be done.) I have only tried to meet the demands which may, I think, be made on this art today.
–August Strindberg/William Sydney
From “evil,” “wonderful,” “pretty unsafe” playwright William Sydney, a new play about happiness and fear.
