1920 SZINHAZ (Theatre: Three One-Act Plays).
Undoubtedly the greatest of these is LILIOM. Indeed, I know of no play written in our own time which matches the amazing virtuosity of LILIOM, its imaginative daring, its uncanny blending of naturalism and fantasy, humor and pathos, tenderness and tragedy into a solid dramatic structure. At first reading it may seem a mere improvization in many moods, but closer study must reveal how the moods are as inevitably related to each other as pearls on a string.
And where in modern dramatic literature can such pearls be matched—Julie incoherently confessing to her dead lover the love she had always been ashamed to tell; Liliom crying out to the distant carousel the glad news that he is to be a father; the two thieves gambling for the spoils of their prospective robbery; Marie and Wolf posing for their portrait while the broken-hearted Julie stands looking after the vanishing Liliom, the thieves' song ringing in her ears; the two policemen grousing about pay and pensions while Liliom lies bleeding to death; Liliom furtively proffering his daughter the star he has stolen for her in heaven. . . . The temptation to count the whole scintillating string is difficult to resist.
What is the moral of LILIOM? Nothing you can reduce to a creed. Molnar is not a preacher or a
