Le Printemps romain de Mrs. Stone

If Flaubert could boldly declare, “Madame Bovary, c’est moi!”, Tennessee Williams might have claimed the same, with even greater justification, for “Mrs. Stone, c’est moi!” The parallels between the author and the novel’s protagonist — a former actress reflecting on her past and career, on the ravages of time, on destructive illusions and emotional solitude — are striking. Williams was only thirty-nine at the time, yet his private life was already unraveling: openly homosexual and once a conqueror, his youthful image was giving way to that of a heavier, aging man who, like Mrs. Stone, sought refuge in an ever-increasing number of affairs with young men, sometimes gratis but more often paid, offering him the illusion of briefly holding back time. Like Karen Stone, exotic travel, fashionable drinking and fleeting liaisons became his daily routine.

This unsparing self-portrait was later adapted for the screen by José Quintero. Williams himself captioned the film’s poster: “It is my favorite film of all those made from my work.”

A fine copy, in a binding from Daniel-Henri Mercher’s series with inset plexiglass covers.