EUGENE O’NEILL: GRAND MASTER OF MONOLOGUE IN AMERICAN DRAMA
Dr. Ksenia Kisselincheva
It is not an exaggeration that Eugene O’Neill is called “the grand master of American
drama”. There is an auspicious detail in his biography. He was born in a hotel
room on Broadway (where Times Square is now).
The inscription on the memorial plate says: “Eugene O’Neill, 1888‑1953, America’s
greatest playwright was born on this site…”.
I am going to speak more
specifically of Eugene O’Neill’s contribution to monologue usage as well as
about some parallels, showing the impact of Eugene O’Neill on successive
generations of American and other English‑speaking playwrights.
Let me start with a general
description of monologue as an expressive means in modern drama.
On the whole the role of
monologue is overshadowed by the lively stage action and dialogue. It is not
always thought of as indispensable for the dramatic mode. But, actually,
monologue has its legitimate place and specific functions in the expressive
arsenal of the theater. It is not accidental that the convention of monologue
is present in the major stages from the evolution of the dramatic art. It has an
especially respectful stature in ancient Greek, Renaissance, Restoration and Romantic
theater.
The expansive experimentation
with the expressive potential of the monologue mode in modern western drama is
undoubtedly related to the inner psychological dimension of the conflict as a
source of dramatic tension. There is hardly another means of expression which
is better suited to give a more direct expression of the invisible inner drama
as well as a more intimate penetration into it. The monologue is shedding bright
light on the inner world of the dramatic characters. It follows in a
retrospective or introspective point of view the modulations of the individual
psycho-gram. The monologue gives the freedom to make a breakthrough in the
socially ritualized framework of dialogue and action, giving an access to the
innermost intimate layers in the soul of the character. They are deeply hidden and
represent an universe of feelings, passions, thoughts, dreams and moods.
The
monologue does not in the least infringe itself the perimeter of the dialogue.
On the contrary, they only complement each other, stand in counterpoint to each
other or merge one into another. The transitions might be marked down by a
stage direction. The dialogic mode prevails whenever the dramatis personae aim
at having an impact on one another. In contrast, the monologic mode takes the
upper hand whenever the character appears to forget about other people’s
presence and starts thinking aloud, or having a conversation with himself.
Alongside
with the multi-dimensional self‑revelation of the characters, monologue
performs other specific functions within the dramatic texture. It expands the
scope of presentation in time and space. More specifically, it can render the
imaginary journey of characters in the past and the future. It can also suggest
indirectly of off‑the‑stage reality which has some relevance to the action.
Another function the monologue can predict the future development of the
action. Apart from this, the monologue often may give a compressed expression
of the author’s message and attitude.
In
the seemingly static plays of the modern theater which do not rely so much on
the well-made plot, the monologic peaks shape up the highlights of the dramatic
parabola. And last, but not least, the dimension of the monologue contributes
significantly to creating a poetic atmosphere, making for the more convincing
impact of the stylized dramatic reality.
For
the purpose of analysis of the drama a number of typological variants of
monologue can be distinguished, depending on its content, like: monologue‑commentary,
monologue‑confession, monologue-reckoning, monologue‑sermon, monologue‑climax,
monologue‑message of the author. Such a typological division can only be
provisional since in the vibrant dramatic texture these types of monologue
never occur in pure form. They intercross and superimpose one upon another. But
yet one of them might be assumed as defining shape of the monologue deviation
from the flux of the dialogue.
I
attempt at shedding light on the various types of monologue in contemporary
American drama within a historical comparative perspective. The starting point
of the study will be the late dramaturgy of Eugene O’Neill. Therein the
prototypes of this ever productive trend in North American drama are contained.
He manages to employ in full measure the expressive might of the monologue,
creatively transforming and enriching what has been achieved before him by
Ibsen, Strindberg and Checkov. In many aspects Eugene O’Neill turns into an
inspiring model for the next generations of English speaking playwrights.
The
slant towards using monologue prevails especially in his late plays, written on
the eve and during World War 2. These monologues are, in one way or another,
variations of the tragic and some time tragicomic discrepancy between reality
and dream: a leitmotif running not only throughout Eugene O’Neill’s body of
work. This eternally insolvable contradiction remains predominant throughout
most of modern theater after Ibsen.
In
“A Touch of a Poet” (1936) this discrepancy is projected in a number of soul
self-revelations which take the shape of a confession or a reckoning. The
ambivalent vision of the complex correlation between reality and illusions is
emphasized in the ironic twists, paradoxes and grotesques. They are born out of
the collision between the dialogic and monologue of the characters. The final
monologue of the main hero Cornelius Melody marks the culmination point of his
inner conflict. He makes a sincere and impartial reckoning of his life and
comes to realize his delusive pretensions to return to real genuine love.
Illusions are presented as destructive for the character’s personality and it
is only through their painful realization, there is a chance for his rebirth
and salvation. This treatment of the subject relates to a similar treatment in
Ibsen’s “Doll’s House”.
Conversely, illusions are treated differently in “The
Iceman Cometh” (1939). Therein they turn into the necessary protection of the characters
against the insupportable reality. This is in tune with the treatment in
Ibsen’s “The Wild Duck”. Both masters of modern drama are rather attracted by
the manyfold embodiment of the human condition rather than by looking for
one-sided solutions.
“Long Day’s Journey into Night” (1941) is considered a
crowning achievement of O”Neill’s mastery. This static play could also be
looked at as the author’s vision of the Eugene O’Neill’s own family fate. The
monologues here are a journey from the present into the past, from the seeming
to the essential, from illusions to crude reality. The mental conflict and its
evolution find an exquisite expression in the sonata‑like transition of
dialogue and monologue, presented at times in counterpoint contrast, at times -
overlapping one into another. In Act Three, the main character Merry Tyrone (whose
prototype is Eugene O’Neill’s mother) makes a confession prompting to her
return to morphine addiction. This is a way to prepare the audience for the
culmination point in Act Four, marked by the parallel confessional monologues of
the four Tyrones.
The tragic suggestion of power of fate is
further enhanced by other means of expression – audiovisual effects, symbolic configuration,
pantomime and dialogue. The monologues turn from a confession into a reckoning of
one’s life and reveal new aspects of the author’s point of view.
In “The Iceman Cometh” (1939) the
expressive power of various versions of monologue is employed. The action is
set in Harry Hope’s pub. He has sheltered a dozen of outsiders. They are eagerly
expecting Hickman, a salesman, to celebrate once again Harry Hope’s birthday. Hickman is known for his sense of humour and
his addiction to booze. This time he comes sober and surprisingly he preaches
the rejection of pipe dreams, which give meaning to the life of each and every
one of the characters.
In a monologue-sermon in Act II, Hickman
persuades them persistently that in order to find peace and happiness, they
have to reject their illusions. The result of the “new religion” is that the
characters are shocked and confused; they become aggressive to each other. The
escalating underneath tension reaches its climax in the monologue self‑confession
of Hickman in Act IV where Hickman admits to having killed his wife. Thus the
monologue turns into a monologue-reckoning.
The fate of Parrit, another key character
in the play, also follows the tragic pattern of crime and punishment. His final
monologue-confession also turns into a painful reckoning - he has the guts to
admit the treachery he has committed to his mother, dooming her to life
imprisonment. He has the courage to take his own life ‑ he jumps off the
fire escape - the retribution for his crime. This is an illustration of O’Neill’s
tragic interpretation of the individual conflicts of the main characters - crime,
pangs of conscience and retribution. The rest of the characters are too weak to
face the horrible truth and they revert to their life sustaining pipe‑dreams.
This shocking outcome has been prepared
by the implications of the dialogue, saturated with images of death.
It was shown how tragic self-awareness
inevitably leads to atonement. The monologues of Hickman and Parrit turn from a
confession into a hard reckoning – they also signal the shocking denouement of
their individual dramas.
“A Moon for the Misbegotten” (1943) is also
connected to O’Neill’s family saga, which is rendered in a wider scope in “Long
Day’s Journey into Night”. The main character is modeled after ONeill’s elder
brother. One of the plot lines revolves around his unfulfilled love with the
farmer’s daughter Josy. The inner conflict of both characters is projected in a
counterpoint between the protective masks of their dialogue and the
self-revelation of their monologues in Act IV. The melodramatic treatment
is finely balanced by the tragicomic treatment - grotesque and farcical
distortions alternate with ironic ambiguity.
If we turn to the impact of O’Neill on
successive playwrights in American drama, there are striking parallels between
the late plays of O’Neill and some plays by Tennessee Williams.
The strong influence of O’Neill on the
formation of Williams’ creative personality has been recurrently underlined by
critics. Indeed among the playwrights of the postwar generation, T. Williams is
closest in his disposition to the patriarch of native American theater. The
line of continuity is quite perceptible, without verging on sheer imitation.
There are many parallels to be traced between “Long Day’s Journey into Night”
and “The Glass Menagerie” of Williams. Both plays are family dramas with a
strong autobiographical touch where the past and the present oscillate between
each other, embodying in a polyphonic manner the leitmotif of human hopes and
failures. Also, the monologue plays a dominant part in both plays which is
partially determined by the contemplative confessional vein of the content.
Tom Wingfield, the main character in “The Glass Menagerie” is
simultaneously a commentator and a participant in the action. In his address to
the audience, he comments, analyses and shares his innermost thoughts. A whole
range of expressive means is manifested in Tom’s monologue: the innermost core
of his personality and his attitude to life is revealed; the narrow scope of the
dramatic action is expanded; the future unraveling of the dramatic conflict is
hinted at.
The most emotional confession belongs to
Tom’s mother, Amanda Wingfield, in scene six, where she shares with her
children her nostalgia for her lost youth, embodied in the key
image of the “daffodils”. In the
romantic idealization of the American South we can grasp Williams’s own
nostalgia for the refined aristocratic culture of his native South, which is
crumbling under the onslaught of the arrogant and upstart business of the
North.
The end of the play is crowned by the monologue
of Tom who expresses his revolt against the omniscient American dream, promoted
like a social psychosis. It remains unattainable for millions of ordinary
Americans like Tom, facing the menace of the Great depression and the
encroaching world war.
The leitmotif of the tyrannical power of
the past over the present from “Long Day’s …” is also elaborated in a number of
plays by T. Williams. Another parallel between both authors concerns the main
source of conflicting tensions. It stems from the clash between desires and
fears, faith and betrayal, love of life and the urge to self‑destruction.
This perennial division and clash could
be traced in the monologue in “Streetcar Named Desire” (1947). There is a
certain ambiguity in the author’s attitude that impairs the tragic treatment.
The retrospective effusions of Blanche Dubois echo the way the monologue
is used by O’Neill and Ibsen to give
extra dimensions to the situation. The confession of Blanche before Mitch in
scene nine marks the culmination of her inner conflict – the shocking
revelations of her past inevitably lead to the catastrophic denouement. These
revelations repel Mitch, her prospective husband, and her last hope of some human happiness is
crushed.
In “A Cat on a Hot Tin Roof” (1955) the monologue
intertwines with the dialogue and successively acquires either the form of a
commentary, or a confession, or a sermon. The two main sources of the action
are the characters of Maggie, Brick’s wife, and Big Daddy, Brick’s father.
Maggie clashes with Kaspar and his wife Mae. They fight fiercely to get hold of
the family property while Big Daddy is doomed to die of cancer. Throughout the
play they have all been roasting on the fire of greed, hatred and alienation.
The monologues are full of these destructive passions. This is another creative
similarity between the attitude of both E. O’Neill and T. Williams. Maggie,
the Cat, reminds of Abbie Cabot from “Desire Under the Elms” of O’Neill in her consistent
calculating strategy. But Maggie is conceived predominantly in a melodramatic
mold, she does not acquire the tragic stature of Abbie Cabot.
The delusions of life and of himself lead
Willie Loman from “Death of a Salesman” (1949), a play by A. Miller, to a
tragic fall from grace. He is reluctant to recognize and admit the false
notions of himself and of his sons. This leads him to despair and to the fateful
decision to commit suicide in order to give his sons a chance to profit from
his life insurance and get a fresh start in business. Arthur Miller also
employs expressionistic devices – he introduces in a imaginary way the ghost of
Ben, Willie’s deceased brother. Ben’s sermons, tinged with a confessional tone,
are actually addressed to Willie’s two sons. In his monologue, Ben stands for
the value system of the conquerors of the Wild West. But his words imply that the other side of individualism
and self-reliance are ruthlessness and fraud. There is only a thin boundary
between them which can be easily trespassed. The strong inclination of A. Miller to use
monologue and other expressionistic devices could be viewed in the context of
his prominent creative reception to the expressionistic mode, found in the
plays of the 20’s and 30’s of E. O’Neill and E. Rice.
The most unambiguous example of this
trend in Miller’s artistic aspirations is to be found in “After the Fall” (1964).
This is an autobiographical monodrama where the ongoing inner monologue is
undercut by short dialogic scenes. The imaginary dialogue of the main character
Quentin with the allegorical figure of the Listener is an example of using expressionistic
devices to render Quentin’s inner drama.
The arena of conflicting clashes is once
again the human soul. Its modulations vary from the analytical commentary
through confessional insights to a long-suffering reckoning. The counterpoint
juxtaposition of dialogue and monologue enhances the ambivalence and fluidity
of the various points of view. The problems which flood Quentin’s “stream of
consciousness” are more than a few and don’t have any easy solutions. They are
projected not only by the textual layer of the play but also by other visual
scenic devices – the symbolical setting, light effects, pantomime and stage
configurations. After his painful meanderings Quentin comes to realize his
personal and his “original sin” and he humbly hopes to achieve expiation
through the cleansing elemental power of love.
The creative adoption of the artistic
potential of monologue can be traced in other plays of the 60’s of the 20-th
century, just to mention “Two on the
Swing” by William Gibson, “ The Typists” by Murray Shisgal and “The Influence
of Gamma Rays on the Moon Marigolds” by Paul Zindell. In general, this trend
asserts itself as artistically productive throughout the 60’s.
There is a certain crisis and decline in the
theater on Broadway. The vibrant formative forces have already shifted to the
off-Broadway theater. It is increasingly captivating a wider audience. The avantguarde‑theater is intensely experimental
at the time of mass social movements like the Civil Rights movement. There is
also an upsurge of underground culture like rock music and the hippies. In this
context there arise and thrive the Living theater, the Open theater,
the Café theater, happenings, regional theater and students’ theater. The
new individual talents arise from this experimental spirit in the arts. For
example, the Living Theater brings forth Edward Albee in whose distinctively
individual style various elements blend.
The failure of achieving meaningful
communication among people accounts for the prevalence of the monologic mode
over the dialogic one in “The Zoo Story“ (1959) of Albee which is his
theatrical debut. This is a chamber drama for two actors. It is auspicious coincidence
that its first US production
took place in Provincetown Playhouse where O’Neill had his debut with “Bound
East for Cardiff“
in 1916. This coincidence reminds of a number of profound parallels between
“The Zoo Story“ of Albee and “Bound East for Cardiff“ of Eugene O’Neill. Both works are
imaginative parables of alienation, inevitably leading to a spiritual impasse.
Both main characters here Yank and Jerry perform a soul-searching hara-kiri in
their desperate impulse to find their place in the chaos of being. In the
context of the analogies, the contrasting differences stand out even better.
First of all, the degree of alienation is different with Yank and Jerry. Yank
from “East for Cardiff“
makes a death-bed confession before his mate, who responds with love and
compassion. In contrast, Jerry from “The Zoo Story“ makes his confession before
a stranger Peter in Central Park. This
stranger does not want and is totally unable to understand him. That is why the desired contact in Albee’s
play is to be achieved only when Peter and Jerry correlate to each other as an
assassin and his victim. Jerry’s monologic tirades imply his failed attempt at
dialogue.
The monologic mode goes through a number
of variations - from a retrospective introduction into Jerry’s life story it turns
into a confession. This confession is finally transfigured into the parable of
“the zoo story” where the author’s message is encapsulated. The climax of
Jerry’s painful self-revelation is his failed attempt at befriending the
neighbor’s dog. In the stage direction of the text, it is explicitly pointed
out that the story is told with the presence of the audience in mind. E. Albee intends
to get the audience emotionally involved and prepared for the unexpected bloody
denouement.
The grotesque hyperbole of the ultimate
degree of alienation definitely reminds to us of a similar drastic resolution of
the situation in O’Neill’s “The Hairy Ape” (1922). Yank, a ship’s stoker, who
has lost his touch with others and the world at large, looks for a final refuge
in the zoo. Having lost any hope of relating to the world, this Yank and Jerry
from “The Zoo Story“ of Albee find the only escape in death. Yank dies in the
mortal embrace of the gorilla in the zoo, while Jerry prods himself onto the
knife, held in self-defense by Peter. In “The Zoo Story “ the dialogic exchange
starts formally, then goes through the monologic failure in communication and
ends in a menacing confrontation.
The motif of the crisis in human
relations is at the center of Albee’s next play “Who is Afraid of Virginia Wolf”
(1961). As far as its structure is concerned, it follows the rhythm of a
carnival ritual. The carefree gaiety of the games in Act One grows into a Walpurgis
unbridledness in Act Two and ends in expiation and exorcism in Act Three. The
psychological dramatic tension of this seemingly static play is charged by two
sources - the understatement of the dialogic crossfire and the tidal wave of
the monologic explosion.
The male characters, George and Nick are
both lecturers in a small New England college.
They impersonate two different intellectual and moral attitudes, which are put
to the test in their confrontation. In his monologic sermon in Act II, George
stigmatizes knowledge devoid of moral principles which intervenes into nature’s
secrets in a purely rational manner. E. Albee’s own predilections can be
glimpsed in this inspired lecture, the author is definitely siding with George,
the old-fashioned moralizer.
Martha, his wife, has a retrospective
speech which is immediately juxtaposed to George’s sermon. Her life story reveals
her own philosophy – we can glimpse where her deep abhorrence for her husband
stems from. This initial antagonism between them predetermines the rising
conflict between them. They endorse contrasting attitudes to the American Dream.
Martha has imbibed her attitude from her rich and successful father. The
relations between husband and wife are built after Strindberg’s model – the
battle between the two sexes is a ferocious battle for overpowering and
submitting your partner, so love turns easily to hatred. The Walpurgis Night
leads to a running high of passions, to provocations and deviations which sweep
away any propriety in the dialogue. The parallel monologic projections of Nick
and George rise to the stature of a poetic message, expressing Albee’s ironic attitude to the pilgrims of the American dream.
The painful shaking off of big and small illusions is the only chance for the
characters to find a way back and to relate to each other in a meaningful way.
This complex interpretation of Albee’s relates him to the tradition of O’Neill,
Williams and Miller.
The monologic device takes a key place in
Albee’s drama in the 60’s and 70’s of the 20th century which is
strongly impacted by the European theater of the absurd (S. Beckett, H. Pinter).
But E. Albee, similarly to O’Neill, does not adopt the posture of despair and
helplessness before the absurdity of the human condition. They assert the
possibility to confront reality and to resist it by making a choice of positive
values, which can give meaning and dignity to individual life.
The shifts in the thematic and stylistic
nature of the monologue in American theater from the last quarter of the 20th
century reflect a certain trend of shoving off from the realistic and
naturalistic tradition, associated with the work of O’Neill, Williams and
Miller in the direction of the theater of the absurd – S. Beckett, H. Pinter,
N. Simpson, E. Bond, etc. Also there is a definite trend to a more extensive
involvement of elements from other genres ‑ musical, rock opera, pantomime
as well as other arts like cinema, ballet, painting. This is another
manifestation that theater, despite the invasion of cinema and the electronic
media, has not exhausted the unique impact of its century-old magic.
Academic article in "Tradition and Innovation", a book, published by Lambert Academic Publishing in September 2018
