ABSTRACT
First, a fiery allegory—the reviewer's house is burning down! After tossing the cats out the window, she has time only to save one object before fleeing: either a CD of Sarah Bernhardt declaiming from Phèdre or an old sepia-tinted postcard of Eleonora Duse in D'Annunzio's La Città morta. Quick! which to choose? The Bernhardt has always been a source of deep hilarity: given the primitive acoustic equipment (the original recording was made in 1903), the fabled French actress sounds like Minnie Mouse on speed. She gabbles her way through “Oui, Prince, je brûle pour Thésée” at a mad, cartoonish pace, r's unrolling wildly in every direction. (Watch your head!) The reviewer dotes on her deranged-chipmunk tones, and has even been known to mimic them—along with accompanying pops and blops and funky squeaks—for the enjoyment of select companions. How to live without her?
