'NO EXIT'

The recent production of Jean-Paul Sartre's unusual play "No Exit" by a little theatre group in Palo Alto, Calif. prompts: reprinting the following review which first appeared in VICE VERSA, Vol. 1, No. 3, August, 1947, following performances of the play in Los Angeles. VICE VERSA was possibly the first magazine in America published primarily for Lesbians. It was privately circulated in typed form for nine issues. -ED.

"No Exit" is a study of three condemned souls forced to acknowledge the accusations of conscience. The scene is a shabby hotel room containing a few articles of dilapidated furniture, and no mirrors, forcing the inhabitants to look at each other throughout eternity.

"No Exit" is a tragedy without tears. Nor is there any comedy relief. There is little action and no intricately conceived plot, yet the audience's attention is sustained without the usual recourse to standard stage requisites.

There are three main characters, a French collaborationist, a Lesbian and a ravishingly beautiful nymphomaniac. A11 are dead. The fourth cast member, an impudent bell boy, is incidental. He merely escorts these oddly assorted people into the dingy hotel room, which symbolizes Hell.

The characters are ushered in one at a time, first the French collaborator, then the daughter of Lesbos, and last, the beautiful but completely unprincipled nymphomaniac.

After acquainting themselves with one another, their drab surroundings, and the fact that they are doomed to live together henceforth without even the relief of slumber in this garishly illuminated, dreary little room, they begin to exchange confidences.

The man, a journalist, who considered himself a hero most of his life, besides being a collaborationist mistreated his wife most shamefully. The detailed, half-boastful confession

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