Part 2. Complete "Learning about Tragedy" Essay
Clark
Omo
10
May 2017
A Thoroughbred Web: The Interweaving of Tragedy, Comedy, and the
Romantic
The
development of Tragedy has been an interesting thread to follow. We started with
the genre’s roots in the age of Classical Greece, briefly on through the days of
Renaissance France and England, and at last to the time of America’s great
playwright, Eugene O’Neill. And throughout this development, a steady stream of
genre mixing steadily ebbed its way in. Tragedy begun to take on characteristics
similar to other genres and styles, most notably Comedy and Romance. The Comedic
enters in the form of lowborn characters taking center stage of Tragedy, and
often following with behaviors akin to their status. And the Romance also enters
in the form of cathartic release and faraway dreams, as well as endings that
evoke a sense of transcendence. In this way, all three of these genres bespeak
of a common thread that links each of them together, or else they would not be
able to tie into each other so seamlessly. Therefore, it must be surmised that
all three of these genres possess something in common. This is true, for they
each speak of the struggles of life, yet examine them each in their own way.
For
Tragedy, dealing with everyday issues often takes the form of extreme
circumstances and cathartic release. Consider the Oedipus Cycle. Throughout this
cycle of stories, death, fate, and destruction bombard the audience like
clockwork. Oedipus, the titular character of both the first and second
installments of the Cycle, is fated to kill his father and then subsequently
marry his own mother and father four children through her. No matter what he
does, he cannot avoid the hand he is dealt by fate, and eventually succumbs to
the path he must follow. As a result, his wife\mother slays herself and Oedipus
himself gouges out his own eyes and is banished from his home. While removed
from common life, Oedipus must deal with issues representative of what the
average man would face. Fate is a driving force in Oedipus’s story, and, whether
a person holds a certain faith or not, he or she undoubtedly has reflected that
some things do happen for a reason, and are, therefore, unavoidable. Tragedies
such as the Oedipus Cycles force us to confront such truth, often through
violent and extreme means, but nonetheless releasing in their own right. As
Aristotle said: “Tragedy . . . is an imitation of an action that is serious,
complete, and of a certain magnitude . . . in the form of action, not of
narrative, through pity and fear effecting the proper purgation of these
emotions.” This “purgation” is catharsis, and it allows anyone experiencing it
to release the anger, fear, and pity that they feel not only for the characters
of the story but also for the world around them as well. Humans are often
plagued by things that they cannot understand and situations that are far beyond
their abilities to control. Tragedy asks us to face them in all their terrible
beauty, and then to release the emotions created thereof, according to
Aristotle.
Yet,
to me perhaps, there is more than just emotional release intertwined into
tragedy. We have seen throughout this semester that simple emotional release is
not the dominating purpose of many of the tragedies we have read. Indeed, some
of the works examined in this class often have left us unsure as to what
emotions we should express. Consider
Desire Under the Elms by Eugene O’Neill. In this tale we are confronted by
the likes of Abbie, Ephraim Cabot, and Eben. We have Ephraim Cabot, an old and
bitter man, who marries Abbie, a young woman, who then falls in love with
Ephraim’s son, Eben. At first we are unsure what to feel at this relationship,
for it inspires mixed reactions as well as emotions. There is the slightest
touch of incest and infidelity in this relationship, as well as lust. Yet,
Ephraim is old and cruel, and Abbie just wants to survive. Eben wants the farm
back for himself and his deceased mother. Though these circumstances certainly
inspire a cathartic release, they do much more than that. They allow you to
explore what it means to love and how relationships are centered. Abbie does
love Eben, and Eben feels the same way, or else he would not have gone with
Abbie to the gallows in the final scene of the play. In this way, Tragedy
presents such issues as love and death with starkness and extremity, which
allows the audience to see them in their terrible purity and unhindered by
modern ideals of realism and accuracy. Tragedy forces these painful conflicts
out into the light so that the audience may see and experience them with the
hope that a remedy can at least be pondered. Granted, these answers are rarely
if ever presented explicitly, Tragedy at least tries to cipher them, and that in
itself is the purpose of the genre anyway: to ask us how to deal with pain and
loss.
Tragedy reiterates these themes even more so as it modernizes throughout the
works covered in this semester. We first saw this in the works of Euripides.
Euripides presents the gods of Greece as fickle and somewhat immature, as can be
seen with the opening dialogue of Aphrodite: “People just naturally like to be
admired; why should the gods be any different?” (1.1). With such blatant and
self-deprecating language as this, Euripides brought the colossal powers that
were the Greek gods down to a more human level, thus a significant change
compared to the reverent and fearful approach taken by Sophocles in the Oedipus
Cycle. This change signifies how Comedy edged its way into the Tragic narrative,
for now even though the gods are appealing to the base desires of the common
man; in Aphrodite’s case, this is vanity. Later down the timeline, we encounter
Shakespeare’s Hamlet, which presents
us with Hamlet coping with grief, while two gravediggers comment on the deceased
Yorick. Shakespeare was not afraid to weave characters of a baser status into
the fabric of his narrative, thus appealing to the growing lower classes and
diminishing status of the highborn. And later in the 20th century, we
strike the works of Eugene O’Neill, whose inclusion of regional dialect further
modernizes Tragedy by again giving the common people a voice in the Tragic genre
whose stories for so long were limited to the lives of the nobility. In
Desire Under the Elms, we are given
lowborn characters that act with exaggerated movements and excessive behavior.
We see this in Eben’s brothers, Peter and Simeon, who are big, dirty, and loud
throughout their limited appearance. Furthermore, Tragedy also takes on the
Romantic in its stories, whether it be unintentionally Transcendental or
otherwise. We see in Oedipus at Colonus
how the ending is somewhat transcendental, for Oedipus ascends from the world
into an elusive heaven; he has drawn closer to the gods. Similarly, we see
Romance come to play in Desire Under the
Elms, with its great emphasis on the Romantic struggle for identity, power,
and survival in both Eben and Abbie. Eben’s desire to take back the farm of his
deceased mother rings with the notes of Romantic narrative; the desire for
ultimate happiness. Abbie displays the same desire: to find love and peace. They
both do in each other, and, even though they admit to committing a joint murder
that ultimately results in them going to the gallows hand-in-hand (the supreme
‘get away from it all’), they manage to achieve their peace. Romance can weave
its narrative into Tragedy as well, which attests to the fact that Tragedy can
adjust and adapt according to the times.
Returning to the struggle, in the same way as Tragedy does Comedy also spars
with the problems of reality. Comedy approaches human lives and its problematic
entanglements by bringing them down to a much more basic and sympathetic level.
Through its use of ‘low humor’ often personified by lowborn characters, Comedy
attempts to present the struggles of life through the mundane issues of ordinary
people by inflating them to outrageous proportions, often through excess and
exaggeration. We see aspects of this in the more Comedic parts of
Desire Under the Elms.
Comedy exploits the mundane issues that people face every day and present
them in often excessive, witty, or crude forms. Eben’s two brothers, Simeon and
Peter, are typical comedic characters exhibited with the usual excessiveness.
O’Neill’s stage directions describe them as “[T]all men…built on a squarer,
simpler model, fleshier in body, more bovine and homelier in face, shrewder and
more practical.” They are simple men and not especially abundant in wit and
intelligence. This is a staple of Comedy, for the genre enjoys using lowborn
characters to achieve a sort of down-to-earth-ness that speaks of the common
struggles that most people face. Furthermore, the two brothers are a pair of
awkward, lumbering galoots: “They clump heavily along in their clumsy
thick-soled boots caked with earth” and “stare dumbly up at the sky, leaning on
their toes”. Simeon and Peter exemplify the simple-minded joe that is met along
the streets, every day. They don’t think much of the world, or at least they try
and fail. Comedy uses such characters to appeal to the commoner; for people of
this type not only represent someone met in passing, but also the struggle of
trying to grasp the impossible, but falling short. Furthermore, their immense
physicality represents the same issues we face with our bodies. Simeon and Peter
are everyday men; they are clumsy. Ergo, everyday men are clumsy.
Besides mundanity, Simeon and Peter also represent the more grotesque parts of
Comedy. O’Neill’s description of them being “bovine” in appearance is a
disturbing way of describing the physical appearance of another human. The Cabot
brothers’ dumb physicality is ugly and it is meant to be so by O’Neill’s
language. They are “fleshier” as O’Neill describes, which makes it seem as
though their bodies are overflowing with flesh. Grotesqueness is a trait of
Comedy and its purpose is as blatant as the characters that represent it: to
acknowledge the ugly. Unattractiveness, unpleasantness, revulsion,
repulsiveness, disturbing: all are embodied by the grotesque in Comedy. This
theme allows for Comedy’s audience to face the disgusting; to see it in the
light and accept their existence; for everything beautiful in life, there is
something horrid. Comedy uses the ugly to force its viewers to confront horror
and tangle with it. This inevitable conflict between the audience and the work
does not necessarily usher a solution that may rid the world of the ugly, but it
does acknowledge the existence of ugliness, which is a powerful statement.
Ugliness is just one part of the patchwork of life, and once made aware of its
existence, the audience can at least try to accept it.
Furthermore, another aspect of Comedy that enforces this struggle is its use of
wit, or ‘high humor’. Word plays, clever quips, and other methods characterize
this aspect, and, like low humor, it allows for understanding the mechanics of
reality. Often this form of humor makes light of the myriad of contradictions
that manifest in politics, business, and family life. Such contradictions are
rife throughout existence, and they take form in many guises: the contradictory
policies of your local politicians, the inefficiencies of the manager at your
job, or the fact that your kids spent too much time on their phones and not
enough on their school work. The ability to laugh at such things just makes them
all the more commonplace; such struggles are so ubiquitous that laughing at them
is a method of escape from their seriousness. We laugh with coworkers over the
stupidity of our superiors, yet their stupidity ultimately affects us. At the
same time, however, laughing at such things defines them as idiotic; one would
not laugh at something undeniably serious or logical, for then proper and
considerate thought would result. But things that can be laughed are usually not
meant to be taken seriously or as making sense; therefore, they are stupid. Such
is the purpose of ‘high humor’: to take such serious issues that affect our
lives almost to their very core and then render them to illogicality.
And
then Romance enters and offers us perhaps a better alternative to laughter and
acceptance: escape. We have seen throughout this semester the multiple aspects
of Romance that have invaded into Tragedy. Perhaps the earliest are the
Classical plays, Hyppolytos and the
more modern Phaedra by Racine. Both
plays give the audience a man who dedicates his life to Artemis (or Diana) and
the chastity she demands, while the wife of his father Theseus, Phaedra, has
fallen in love with him. Phaedra
makes use of theme even more so, for Hyppolytus is in love with Aricia, who is
the daughter of a hated enemy of Theseus’s. In either case, the relationship is
highly Romantic, for it is this forbidden love that drives much of the conflict
evident in this plot. And it climaxes almost Transcendentally; Hyppolytos (or
Hyppolytus) is killed by a bull and then gives a riveting speech as he dies
(reminiscent of Hawkeye from The Last of
the Mohicans). This story and conflict may both seem unapproachable to a
degree, for they are so extreme and implausible. But they do offer a reflection
of life’s struggles, and Romance threads through each of the other genres. We
are often presented with things we cannot achieve: someone we want who does not
feel the same or a position that we do not qualify for. In a way, such things
are forbidden; restricted from our grasp. And that presents a struggle. We must
cope with it in the same way as Phaedra. And at times, if this coping is not
handled properly, harmful and counterintuitive actions may take place. In the
case of Hyppolytos, Phaedra, because
of Hyppolytos’s rejection, succumbs to suicide and blames the death on him. In
much the same manner would a rejected lover commit some sort of prank upon his
or her rejecter. Thus, Romanticism forces us to see that the we cannot have
everything, as well as the danger of not realizing this before it is too late.
Already touched upon, another thread of the struggle that Romanticism weaves its
stories with is the aspect of sublime escape from the conflicts of the world. We
observed this again in both Phaedra
and Hyppolytos, where in both cases
the titular characters achieve escape through the ultimate equalizer: death. The
Hyppolytos of both Hyppolytos and
Phaedra achieves death at the hands
of a curse laid upon him by his vengeful father, Theseus. Though he does not
wish this to happen, he is granted final release from the wrath of Phaedra and
the vengeance of Theseus. In such a way, Romanticism acknowledges that, when
presented with such pain and conflict, we wish to find solace. In both
Phaedra and
Hyppolytos, it is interesting to note
that in both cases that release is in the form of death. This attributes to
Tragedy as a genre as well. Death acts as the ultimate key to peace (“To be or
not to be”), and thus creates a struggle between the desire for peace or the
desire for life. And yet, Romanticism’s solution is usually complete rejection
of whatever life the characters currently inhabit, whether it be through death
or not. From this standpoint, Romanticism declares that the only way to achieve
final and eternal peace is through such a drastic measure. It is as if
Romanticism says that such struggles cannot, in any way whatsoever, be solved or
corrected in this life; thus, peace must come through some form of absolution,
death or otherwise. It is a Tragic conclusion indeed, but nonetheless ties the
two genres together.
Tragedy, Comedy, and Romanticism are not as disparate as they may seem. In many
ways, the three different genres are actually three sides of the same coin; and
so many of their messages, themes, and mechanics are woven around the same idea;
the struggle of life. Tragedy presents it with the horrors and conflicts of
death and mental degeneration, Comedy illustrates the struggle through laughter,
and Romanticism reflects the desire for release from such conflicts. Together,
all three of these genres create a thoroughbred web that spreads across many
aspects and themes that many can relate to. Such a fact attests that not only do
these three genres connect with one another, but that all genres can do so. Such
is a critical aspect of the literary realm: Genres build upon each other and
take from each other, thus weaving the web.
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