by NavnDansk » Thu May 11, 2006 1:31 am
<!--EZCODE AUTOLINK START--><a href="http://www.eoneill.com">www.eoneill.com</a><!--EZCODE AUTOLINK END--><br><br> <!--EZCODE FONT START--><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:medium;">====<!--EZCODE BOLD START--><strong>Contour In Time</strong><!--EZCODE BOLD END-->===</span><!--EZCODE FONT END--> <br><br>Prior <!--EZCODE BOLD START--><strong><!--EZCODE ITALIC START--><em>The Door and the Mirror: The Iceman Cometh </em><!--EZCODE ITALIC END--> </strong><!--EZCODE BOLD END--> Next<br> <br>In other plays, on the other side of the door in the mind, O’Neill explored such lost men, men for the most part without women. In the cycle, the ability and the need to dream were the consequences of man’s having in him a touch of the poet. As he wrote, however, O’Neill came to see the need to dream as a universal one, shared by all men, a human drive, possibly man’s most basic urge. Any dream sustains, whether it gives hope or hopeless hope or acts like hope, a “dope-dream.” <!--EZCODE FONT START--><span style="color:teal;">The dream alone gives life.</span><!--EZCODE FONT END--> Nina Leeds called life “a long drawn out lie with a sniffling sigh at the end,” (40) and the pun has relevance to the lie of the pipe dreams to which the derelicts in Harry Hope’s saloon cling. <br><br><!--EZCODE ITALIC START--><em>O’Neill</em><!--EZCODE ITALIC END--> wrote the first draft of <!--EZCODE BOLD START--><strong>The Iceman Cometh</strong><!--EZCODE BOLD END--> between June 8 and November 26, 1939. In this year, the world fell apart as Poland was invaded and Britain and France declared war on Germany. Throughout the end of the Depression, O’Neill had worked on the cycle, finishing drafts of <!--EZCODE ITALIC START--><em>And Give Me Death,</em><!--EZCODE ITALIC END--> <!--EZCODE ITALIC START--><em>The Greed of the Meek</em><!--EZCODE ITALIC END--> and <!--EZCODE ITALIC START--><em>More Stately Mansions</em><!--EZCODE ITALIC END-->. Work on <!--EZCODE ITALIC START--><em>The Calms of Capri</em><!--EZCODE ITALIC END-->corn had begun, but the world crisis made it mpossible for him to continue his account of the decline and fall of the United States. <br><br>In the midst of Armageddon, one does not bother to prophesy. O’Neill’s reaction to war was predictable. At <!--EZCODE ITALIC START--><em>Tao House</em><!--EZCODE ITALIC END-->, he retreated further into himself than he had ever gone before, as if the only understanding that could come in a world gone mad was the understanding of one’s self. The following year he wrote <!--EZCODE ITALIC START--><em>Hughie</em><!--EZCODE ITALIC END--> and the scenarios and some draft versions of its companion works in the cycle of one-act plays called <!--EZCODE ITALIC START--><em>By Way of Obit</em><!--EZCODE ITALIC END-->. <br><br>In 1941, he wrote his last completed work, <!--EZCODE ITALIC START--><em>A Moon for the Misbegotten</em><!--EZCODE ITALIC END-->. Although he picked at the cycle, making revisions on <!--EZCODE ITALIC START--><em>A Touch of the Poet</em><!--EZCODE ITALIC END--> as late as 1942, the work was at a stalemate. Whatever truths it contained for O’Neill had finally to be explored in another past, his own, and in another way than he had in the cycle. The last four plays form a network of introspection whose effect is perhaps best expressed in <!--EZCODE ITALIC START--><em>O ’Neill’s</em><!--EZCODE ITALIC END--> words about <!--EZCODE BOLD START--><strong>The Iceman Cometh</strong><!--EZCODE BOLD END--> contained in a letter to Lawrence Langner dated August 11, 1940: <br><br><!--EZCODE QUOTE START--><blockquote><strong><em>Quote:</em></strong><hr>. . . there are moments in it that suddenly strip the secret soul of a man stark naked, not in cruelty or moral superiority, but with an understanding compassion which sees him as a victim of the ironies of life and of himself. Those moments are for me the depth of tragedy, with nothing more that can possibly be said.<hr></blockquote><!--EZCODE QUOTE END--> <br><br>Compassion produced by a full understanding of man’s circumstances and man’s essential nature, a compassion which beggars analysis, is <!--EZCODE ITALIC START--><em>O’Neill’s</em><!--EZCODE ITALIC END--> final achievement in theatre. The action of each of the four last plays rests in a tale to be told, a tale that is essentially a confession made in hope of absolution. Although the confessional tale is often plotless, often nothing more than a dream, it is a way of reaching out in the dark, of finding pity long denied to old sorrow.<!--EZCODE EMOTICON START :| --><img src=http://www.ezboard.com/images/emoticons/indifferent.gif ALT=":|"><!--EZCODE EMOTICON END--> <br> <br>== Perhaps the nearest theatrical analogue to <!--EZCODE BOLD START--><strong>The Iceman Cometh</strong><!--EZCODE BOLD END--> is <!--EZCODE ITALIC START--><em>Dylan Thomas’s <!--EZCODE BOLD START--><strong>Under Milkwood</strong><!--EZCODE BOLD END--></em><!--EZCODE ITALIC END-->. Both are “plays for voices,” and the voices are those of the dead, reiterating their stories endlessly in an eternity of silence. Under the circumstances of the play the period slang takes on the special qualities of lyric speech.<br><br>* The movement is musical; the repetition of what is said, often almost without significant development, must be followed as if it were music, as patterned abstraction, implemented through contrapuntal repetitions. It is a kind of <!--EZCODE ITALIC START--><em>“sound effect,”</em><!--EZCODE ITALIC END--> but here blended so completely with the action that it becomes the action. <br><br>There are not many moments in theatre comparable to the canonical <!--EZCODE ITALIC START--><em>weaving of the narratives of betrayal</em><!--EZCODE ITALIC END-->, Hickey’s and Parritt’s, toward the end of the play. Hickey’s long monologue is interspersed by <!--EZCODE ITALIC START--><em>short echoing comments</em><!--EZCODE ITALIC END--> from <!--EZCODE ITALIC START--><em>Parritt</em><!--EZCODE ITALIC END--> telling <!--EZCODE ITALIC START--><em>Larry Slade</em><!--EZCODE ITALIC END--> of his own act of betrayal. <!--EZCODE ITALIC START--><em>Parritt</em><!--EZCODE ITALIC END--> and <!--EZCODE ITALIC START--><em>Hickey</em><!--EZCODE ITALIC END--> do not, really, listen to the words that are said. That is to say they do not understand one another and from that understanding receive direction. <br><br>Rather, they move toward the same end without conscious inter-awareness, impelled by purely verbal concatenations, <!--EZCODE ITALIC START--><em>each developing the theme of betrayal as a sound in the air.</em><!--EZCODE ITALIC END--> <br><br><!--EZCODE BOLD START--><strong>The Iceman Cometh</strong><!--EZCODE BOLD END--> does not need music, yet it should be heard as music is heard with an understanding that it progresses in patterns of sound, as much as in patterns of narrative action...<br><br>==<br>Hickey’s remedy for the ills of the world, as that world is represented by the types in <!--EZCODE ITALIC START--><em>Harry Hope’s</em><!--EZCODE ITALIC END--> back room, is equally cold, equally predicated on a belief that human life is an illusion. As <!--EZCODE ITALIC START--><em>Lazarus</em><!--EZCODE ITALIC END--> exhorts, so <!--EZCODE ITALIC START--><em>Hickey</em><!--EZCODE ITALIC END-->, by means of a series of long, brutal individual encounters in the rooms above the bar, forces the dreamers to give over their <!--EZCODE UNDERLINE START--><span style="text-decoration:underline"><!--EZCODE ITALIC START--><em>ultimate link with life, the sustaining pipe-dream of their worth as human beings.</em><!--EZCODE ITALIC END--></span><!--EZCODE UNDERLINE END--> Their dreams hold at least an illusion of life’s essence: movement in purposive action. Action, to be sure, will never be taken, but the dreams reveal a basic human truth: to foster life, man must preserve a minimal dream of movement.<br><br><!--EZCODE ITALIC START--><em>Hickey</em><!--EZCODE ITALIC END-->, whose promised peace is predicated on showing the dreamers that they will never take action and that their dream of doing so is a lie, brings the peace of death. Like much psychiatric theory, <!--EZCODE ITALIC START--><em>Hickey’s</em><!--EZCODE ITALIC END--> Godless theology seeks “adjustment” to a meaningless reality, claiming that he who faces his life will find it. Yet if there is no life to be found, <!--EZCODE ITALIC START--><em>Hickey</em><!--EZCODE ITALIC END-->—not unlike <!--EZCODE ITALIC START--><em>Lazarus</em><!--EZCODE ITALIC END-->—becomes Death’s priest...<br><br><!--EZCODE QUOTE START--><blockquote><strong><em>Quote:</em></strong><hr><!--EZCODE FONT START--><span style="color:teal;">The world which the dreamers inhabit has the fragile ecology of a tide pool. O’Neill calls the saloon “The Bottom of the Sea Rathskeller,” and the imagery of drifting tidal life is pervasive.</span><!--EZCODE FONT END--><hr></blockquote><!--EZCODE QUOTE END--><br><br>* It is a world that barely holds to the fringes of consciousness, moving hesitantly between sleeping and waking, fusing the two conditions into a continuous trance-like existence. The light that filters through the dirty windows from the street is pale and insufficient to separate day from night. Time is meaningless. Voices are nearly unheard in the comatose silence. Existence at Harry Hope’s is reduced to its lowest denominator, a hibernation of animals huddled together in dread of waking.<!--EZCODE EMOTICON START |I --><img src=http://www.ezboard.com/images/emoticons/tired.gif ALT="|I"><!--EZCODE EMOTICON END--> <br><br>* Interestingly, no one of the cast of characters has any connection with the sea, as if <!--EZCODE ITALIC START--><em>O’Neill</em><!--EZCODE ITALIC END--> were deliberately denying the source of his earlier poetic dreams.<br><br>** <!--EZCODE ITALIC START--><em>Larry</em><!--EZCODE ITALIC END--> has stood in loco parentis to <!--EZCODE ITALIC START--><em>Parritt</em><!--EZCODE ITALIC END-->. Whether or not he is actually Parritt’s father is deliberately left ambiguous. <!--EZCODE ITALIC START--><em>Slade</em><!--EZCODE ITALIC END--> denies it when <!--EZCODE ITALIC START--><em>Parritt</em><!--EZCODE ITALIC END--> suggests that he is, but with such vehemence as to raise the possibility.<br><br>*** <!--EZCODE ITALIC START--><em>O’Neill</em><!--EZCODE ITALIC END--> to <!--EZCODE ITALIC START--><em>Dudley Nichols</em><!--EZCODE ITALIC END-->, December 16, 1942. He had worked on the outline and scenario over the year prior to the bombing of Pearl Harbor. <p></p><i>Edited by: <A HREF=http://p216.ezboard.com/brigorousintuition.showUserPublicProfile?gid=navndansk>NavnDansk</A> at: 5/11/06 1:24 am<br></i>