Adrian Holden

“Agamemnon and the Smoke-Dog:  Tragedy vs. Comedy”

When people find out that I am a literature major, after I help them up off of the floor, those that are interested usually barrage me with questions regarding my favorite author, poet, or work in general.  When I reply Soyinka’s Death and the King’s Horseman or Shakespeare’s Macbeth, I always get that funny look from those who would expect someone who appears to revel in jocularity as I do to fire off something funny or lighthearted.  The funny thing is that I never realized why until I began to take this course.  What I am beginning to be able to articulate is that while comedy makes one feel better, tragedy makes one feel.  It provides food for the mind; it is subtle, elusive [IG].  This is not said to denigrate or downplay comedy, but simply put, tragedy is the greatest of all genres.  The purpose of this answer is to compare and contrast comedy and tragedy. 

First, an examination of the characters in tragedies and comedies is in order if one wants to elevate the one over the other.  In tragedy, the characters are usually great men and women – kings, queens, rulers, or some other type of leader of a particular society.  For example, each of the tragedies that we have encountered featured Aegememnon, Clytemnestra, Hamlet, Oedipus, Jocasta, and the Mannon family.  All of these characters were in positions of leadership or high esteem. The lowest ranking member of this group would probably be Ezra Mannon, but still he is the most powerful character in O’Neill’s Mourning Becomes Electra.   Compare these characters to the ones found in the comedic representation given so far in the semester, Friday.  According to Aristotle, “comedy is an imitation of characters of a lower type,” (Poetics handout).  Craig is the freshly unemployed son of a dog-catcher, and his best friend, Smokey, is an unsuccessful small-time drug dealer. 

Both comedy and tragedy begin with a problem.  A major difference between the two can be found immediately by examining these two problems.  Because tragedy “is an imitation of an action that is serious, complete, and of a certain magnitude,” there is and will always be a palpable sense of gravitas connected to the tragic problem.  Hamlet’s throne has been usurped and his father’s killer has assumed power.  Clytemnestra seeks to avenge the death of her daughter on her husband, King Agaememnon, who has just returned from capturing Troy.  Oedipus has been informed that if he does not locate the former king’s killer, Thebes will continue to rot from plague.  Smokey and Craig need to come up with $200 to pay Big Worm by the end of the day, an issue that, of course, pales in comparison.    Something seems to be missing from that comedic problem, and that something is that feeling of gravitas. 

Another instance in which the gravity of tragedy exceeds that of comedy is in its plot.  According to Aristotle, plot is the “soul of tragedy,” and as the imitation of action, it inspires fear and pity.  Matriculating through the plot of Oedipus Rex, one finds itself disgusted by the bearing out of the prophecy that would create a psychological complex that would forever possess Oedipus’ name and horrified by the self-mutilation as Oedipus gouges out his eyes upon finding Jocasta’s swinging corpse.  Quite dissimilarly, one experiences none of this as we wait to see how Craig and Smokey are going to fumble their way out of avoiding repercussions from the “Big Worm Situation.”