Director Émile Perrin eagerly turned to Lionel, his voice urgent:
"Lionel, what do you think? Madame Berthe's performance was practically perfect, wasn't it? And François, how he captured that hypocrisy..."
Lionel raised his hand, gently interrupting him.
He slowly walked to the center of the "stage," his gaze sweeping over the two main actors:
"Madame Berthe, Mr. François, thank you for your dedication. Your professionalism is admirable, especially under these conditions."
The actors let out a slight sigh of relief, but Lionel's next words made their hearts tense up again.
"However, we are rehearsing Thunderstorm. This play is not Hernani, nor is it Hamlet; it does not require the overt passion and declaration of classical tragedy."
He looked at the actress playing "Madeleine":
"Madame Berthe, your grief is very authentic, your technique impeccable. But Madame's emotion at this moment is not just sadness; it is a numbness after being ravaged by years. When she sees the nightmare of the past reappear, her inner feeling is shock, but also resignation. What you just performed was more of her accusing Lavernère."
Madame Berthe paused, carefully replaying Lionel's words in her mind, and slowly nodded.
Lionel then turned to the actor playing "Lavernère":
"Mr. François, you portrayed the character's hypocrisy and coldness very well. But 'Lavernère' is not a villain by nature. The moment he recognizes 'Madeleine,' he shouldn't only show panic and cold indifference wanting to distance himself. Shouldn't there be a trace of tenderness deep in his heart?
Even if extremely brief, even if he himself refuses to admit it. However, this trace of tenderness is quickly crushed by his severe questioning. I feel this would make the character more three-dimensional, and also more tragic."
François fell into thought, picking up the script to look at it again.
Lionel raised his voice slightly so that the other actors could also hear clearly:
"The power of Thunderstorm lies not in the eloquence of the lines, nor in the strangeness of the plot. Its power lies in repression, in that sense of fate that destroys everything. This sense of fate brews in the cage that is the 'Lavernère Estate' and finally erupts uncontrollably. All acting—whether lines, movements, or expressions—should serve to create this atmosphere."
He paused, allowing everyone to digest his words.
Lionel normally wouldn't intervene so deeply in the actors' performances; for The Choir, he had let the actors use their own interpretations entirely.
This was because The Choir was originally intended for film, and film interpretation differs greatly from theatre, so Lionel naturally had no grounds to comment.
However, Thunderstorm was different; it was a classic drama that had nearly a century of performance history after being written, the signature piece of the 'Beijing People's Art Theatre.'
Lionel had watched dozens of performances of different versions of Thunderstorm—live and on video.
The lines and performances of those excellent actors were practically etched into his mind, and this resource certainly could not be wasted.
More crucially, there was a huge gap in acting ability between the 19th century and later times—Konstantin Stanislavski was still a teenager, and his "experiential school" hadn't even emerged yet.
As for Method acting, the School of Expression, etc., they were at least decades away from being born.
Actors at this time carried some residual operatic performance styles; both in delivery and physical movement, they lacked "realism."
This acting style was fine for The Choir, as that piece was akin to a light opera, where exaggeration didn't matter much.
But in Thunderstorm, it felt somewhat "out of place" to Lionel—which was the same feeling he had when watching A Doll's House.
Since he had spotted the problem, he needed to make the play as close as possible to what he had seen in later eras.
Otherwise, all the effort and money spent on renovating the stage would be for nothing.
Lionel continued:
"Also, regarding rhythm. The pauses in some places could be longer. For instance, before 'Madeleine' speaks a crucial line, there should be a silence, making the audience feel suffocated. Do not be afraid of dead air; the charm of the plot is often hidden in these seemingly empty moments."
The rehearsal hall was silent, with only Lionel's voice and the continuous construction noise from next door.
The actors listened intently; some seemed enlightened, others were still pondering.
The anxiety on Émile Perrin's face gradually dissipated; he realized Lionel wasn't negating their previous efforts but guiding them.
It seemed he was injecting an entirely new concept of theatre into the minds of these actors.
... After a long time, Lionel concluded:
"That's all for today. Please go back and study your roles carefully. We will continue tomorrow at the same time. Thank you for your hard work."
The actors bowed one after another and dispersed, talking in low voices.
Émile Perrin stepped closer, wiping his sweat:
"That was excellent, Lionel! Your points were spot on! The problems you pointed out indeed exist. It seems we need more fine-tuning; I hope you can be present for the rest of the rehearsals!"
Lionel looked at the closed door of the rehearsal hall, the panel vibrating slightly from the knocking outside.
He replied calmly:
"The technical renovation is just the shell, Émile. What truly brings Thunderstorm to life is the soul of the actors on stage. The shell and the soul must be synchronized!"
Just then, the rehearsal hall door was pushed open.
Nikola Tesla stood at the entrance, looking exhausted but excited:
"Mr. Sorel, the first batch of custom-ordered 'Yablochkov Candles' has arrived. Our initial testing of the control circuit is also complete. In a week at the latest, we can begin testing the simulated lightning effect. We will capture the 'flash of lightning' you desire."
When Lionel returned to his apartment on Boulevard Saint-Germain, dusk had already fallen.
Guy de Maupassant was deeply sunk into an armchair in the living room, with a small mountain of notebooks and scattered manuscripts piled on the side table next to him.
Hearing the door open, Maupassant immediately sprang up, his face flushed with excitement.
He waved a sheaf of papers densely covered in writing:
"Lio! You're finally back! Look at this! I've dug up all the changes in the Parisian cafés from those years, going through the National Library, the archives, and even many old newspapers!"
Without waiting for Lionel to take off his coat, he eagerly began explaining his concept:
"Café, Act One, I've got it figured out! The time will be set in 1793, the height of the Reign of Terror! Our café will be located not far from the guillotine!"
His eyes were shining, and his speech was rapid-fire:
"When the curtain opens, it will be a highly impactful scene—an old nobleman, having just lost his hat, rushes into the café, while outside is the procession of prison carts and the singing of La Marseillaise!..."
After a long while, Maupassant finished laying out his vision for the first act, asking impatiently:
"Well? Lio! Doesn't it have tension, satire, and historical absurdity? That's drama!"
After speaking, Maupassant's chest rose and fell, as if he could already hear the enthusiastic applause in the theatre.
His eyes, full of expectation, also held a challenge as he looked at Lionel.
Lionel had been listening quietly, a faint smile on his face.
He walked over to the liquor cabinet, poured two small glasses of brandy, and handed one to Maupassant.
Lionel took a sip of his drink and spoke unhurriedly:
"Guy, your concept certainly has strong dramatic effect. However, you can listen to my version..."
(End of Chapter)