THE CHALLENGE OF OUR TIMES by Robert Montgomery
Theatre Arts February 1955
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The creative people of the world stand face to face with a challenge and an opportunity
which could affect the lives of all of us. The challenge is the shaping of the future, the
dispelling of an atmosphere and the creation of a new one.
The atmosphere to be dispelled is one which has, carelessly and thoughtlessly, been built
up for the last thirty-five years. It is an atmosphere of fear, an atmosphere of despair, an
atmosphere of futility. We live our lives in the shadow of one ominous fear after another.
When the titillative qualities of one fear have been exhausted, a new one is brought to the
front page of our newspapers. It's little wonder that the outlook today is universally bleak.
Yet the future is not as black as it is being painted. It is conditioned, to be sure, by the
manner in which we approach it. When that approach is made in an attitude of
hopelessness, it is bound to prove less than enticing. But must we approach the future with
an attitude of hopelessness? Must we continue to toboggan down this never-ending descent
into fear?
I say no.
I say there is no need for it and I say we are doomed if we can't rein ourselves up sharply,
turn our course and approach the future from a more realistic point of view.
I say--and with emphasis--that the realistic approach embodies one enormously important
element: hope.
If we have no hope for the future, we have no future. If we have no hope for the future, we
are negating the present. If we have no hope for the future, we are denying the past.
The people--the only people--who can provide the unique kind of leadership required for
such a change of course, a leadership which does not ostensibly lead, are the creative
people. The duty, the burden, the opportunity falls to them, because, in a frantic era, the
creative groups are the only ones who have the time to think deeply enough, to observe
dispassionately enough and to give guidance realistically enough. It falls to the creative
groups, essentially by default, since the industrialists and the politicians are too busily
involved with the machinations of their own creation to find the time to think, to observe, to
guide.
Yet, in undertaking this task, I am not suggesting that creative people must band together,
form committees and elect officers to lead us out of the wilderness. their leadership must not
and cannot be a conscious leadership. Whatever movement they contribute to must be a
suggestive movement. It must move in terms of its own value and its own validity, not as a
matter of pressure.
I have in mind a friend of mine, an artist, who has always been--in terms of art--a
revolutionary. He has been a fighter all his life and now, at fifty-seven, he is still a fighter, still
a revolutionary. He has given up painting now. He has given it up not becasue he is
mellowing, not because he is tired of fighting the battle he has always carried on in his own
art, but because he has found a more important battle. He has given up painting because,
he says, it is now more important for a person like himself to learn to find hope.
It is important for creative people like this to find hope because, having found it, they can
impart it to the rest of us. They can reach out to us as no other group can.
It is awfully easy for a painter, a sculptor, a writer--any creative person--to do something in
his field that is revolutionary and destructive. It is much harder to be revolutionary and
constructive.
It is obviously the contructive revolutionary who is the better man, who can be the great
man. It is the constructive revolutionary who must give us guidance now.
In saying this, I am not shouting into a vacuum. I am not calling for the impossible. I am
simply stating a fact of our times. The constructive revolutionary is already with us. He is
beginning to happen, and recognition of these beginnings is coming from the most
auspicious sources.
It is necessary only to look to the Nobel Prize awards to see that the most discerning
minds of our times are aware of the importance of the turning of creative minds toward hope.
One award went to a man who is possibly the greatest living example of hope and faith in
action--Dr. Albert Schweitzer. Another went to Ernest Hemingway for his novel The Old Man
and the Sea. This is a particularly significant selection. It is a definite symptom of our times,
for fifteen years ago Hemingway would have been accused of being corny if he had
produced this novel. Yet a more hopeful book was never written by a more worldly man. It is,
in essence, a story of victory, not--as it has sometimes been interpreted--a story of defeat.
In looking to creative people for this form of leadership, I am, of course, including the
creative people of the theatre. Currently it seems to me that they are in the theatrical
doldrums. Theatre people haven't yet reached out to find out what life is all about. I think
they eventually will. I have the greatest faith in the creative people of the theatre. They'll
smell out the need of our time, and as they do, their reaction to it will be inspiring.
Joseph Hayes is an instance of a man coming into the theatre who is bringing some of this
sense of direction with him. It is Hayes' The Desperate Hours, of course, which has given me
occasion to come back to the theatre after many years devoted to films and television. His
play attracted me because it brought me face to face, in my position as director, with some
technical challenges that I found interesting--the need for working with six stage areas on
which there could be no focus by artificial means, by lights or by a lack of lights. But beyond
that, it attracted me because of its exploration of the behavior of human beings under stress.
It doesn't solve any great problems--unless you are willing, as I am, to consider the human
being and his relationship to other human beings a great problem. What the play says,
essentially, is that given a set of circumstances and conditions that he isn't used to, a man
either rises or he falls. If he falls, it's too bad. But if he rises--well, that's a real triumph.
There is no doubt that it is possible for a man imbued with hope to fall. If he does, it's too
bad. But a man without hope can hardly fail to fall. A man without hope can never triumph. If
we, as a Civilization, are to rise above the circumstances and conditions which face us, if we
are to move on to a real triumph, we must rid ourselves of our blanket of fear, we must have
hope. And it is toward the creation of this hope that all creative people must willingly bend
their efforts, or we shall surely fall.
Robert Montgomery, who returned to the theatre after a lengthy absence to direct The Desperate Hours, flanked by the play's producers, Howard Erskine (left) and Joseph Hayes--who adapted the work from his successful novel.
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The director of The Desperate Hours calls for creative people--the constructive revolutionaries--to lead us out of an atmosphere of fear and futility into one of hope and achievement
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The opening rehearsal session for The Desperate Hours. The actors seated at left are (left to right): Karl Malden, the stars: Malcolm Brodrick, Paul Newman, George Grizzard, Kendall Clark, Rusty Lane and Judson Pratt. Director Robert Montgomery is seated at the table between author-producer Joseph Hayes (foreground) and Howard Erskine, who is presenting the drama with Hayes.
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