There's so much we don't know. From 1897 to 1962 there was something calling itself The Theatre of the Grand Guignol at the end of a little side street. It went through numerous revisions. It's possible that the Grand Guignol of 1940 wouldn't have recognised its 1897 self. Throughout the entirety of that time though it appears to have been outsider art.
Or was it? It probably wouldn't have thought of itself as outsider. It appears to have been shaped by commercial pressures to become its unique self. The actors were proper professionals, it paid proper wages. It was, for most of its existence, a highly profitable and successful theatre. Probably. It's hard to get proper numbers.
Anyway, the photo. Retrieved from an Ebay listing, it's a promotional postcard, which holds out the salivating possiblity that this was a regular promotional tool and there are more somewhere (so far there aren't, was this a one off? A failed experiment?). It shows eight smartly dressed individuals, three women and five men, standing outside the Grand Guignol. I'm taken by the two proto-goths on the left there. For dates we have the poster to either side of the door. The second piece "Les Nuits Hampton-Club" is clearly visible. Fortunately for us Les Nuits was only ever produced once (according to Agnes Pierron's magnum opus), allowing us to date the photo to somewhere between January and April 1908.
I'm assuming at this stage that Ratineau is Paul Ratineau, who will go on to become the Grand Guignol's special effects wizard. There are photos of him in the Time Magazine special from 1947, but they are still copyright. Also we have "Tunc" in 1908 and "Tung Frere" in 1907. Both rendered in upper case, so the possibility of a typo exists.
The script for Hampton-Club contains the following:
In Les Nuits du Hampton-Club, it was Max Maurey who encouraged Mouëzy-Éon to go as far as possible in the horror: "I can still hear him say to me, about the final scene where the suicide in spite of himself screams his terror in the dark: “Your man's monologue is too mushy! Lock yourself in your cellar and try to imagine and translate the reactions of a guy who feels that his death is near and cannot guess where it will come from!" I did not lock myself in my cellar where I only went down for more pleasant purposes, but I ended up giving birth to a monologue which satisfied our sadistic director and which revolted, as he wished, his loyal audience."
So by 1908 the Grand Guignol is very much taking on the shape it will become legendary for, and it's Max Maurey who is pushing that.
The postcard I found on Ebay was presumably printed in 1908. It was one of a set of four. There is nothing to indicate that they were all part of a set, but could they be the same actors? If that's the case, then the three portraits could match to the three women in the group photo.
A tentative possibility. It's a tiny bit chilling just how much these people have disappeared.
In 1909 Pierron gives us Apres Coup, ou Tics!, which does look to have been a decent hit. The cast for that is:
1908. Février :
- La Suicidette, c. de Johannès Gravier;
- Le Cyprin ou la Précaution inutile, c. de Charles Martel ;
- Les Nuits du Hampton-Club, d. d'André Mouëzy-Éon, d’après Robert-Louis Stevenson
- Les Bâtons dans les roues, e. de Robert Dieudonné ;
- L'Angoisse, d. de Pierre Mille et Ceylia de Vylars
- Les Donnadieu, c. de Maurice de Féraudy et Jean Kold.
Six plays, one with an all male cast of nine. Even if the others were duologues that's a minimum of nineteen people without some overlap. At this stage I flat out refuse to believe that there were up to thirty actors backstage in that show in that tiny building (especially as they were all getting paid, that's a big wage bill). It's dangerous to make assumptions but I would expect each actor to play multiple roles, and Hampton Club to be every single man on stage, and the fact that it was only produced once may have something to do with its cast size. Which may give an insight into the expected company size per season. However this is all assumption without evidence. We shall see.