O’Neill was writing with modernity in full swing, and you can see that in the bleakness of his work. The realization that industrialization was sterile, the humanistic value that man would evolve into greatness as a species and as individuals had proven hollow, and the loss of identity in the swirling masses of urbanization all bleed into the disjointed works of the time. O’Neill was a Yankee, too, from New York City, no less, and that sucked. As is the case with many of his contemporaries, a sense of hopelessness, madness, and despair imbues his work, and all the plays herein end sadly, though not tragically in the theatrical sense. The characters cannot relate to themselves or others, and an undercurrent of insanity, incest, and rage swirls throughout. Still, for all its hideousness, the modernist works are important, in small doses, as they point out the flaws of the time we should strive to avoid in our time. I like them for this reason and others. The plays, as I mentioned, have a tragic tone though they don’t quite reach full-on tragedy. O’Neill has a good sense of characterization, a positive trait for a playwright. He takes the time to set scenes well, which allows the reader to better envision what is going on and experience the drama. Overall, O’Neill, in my opinion, is not as good as Tennessee Williams, but worth reading.
This book includes, of course, nine plays:
The Emperor Jones is named for the main character, a black man who has escaped from jail and made himself an emperor in a backwater Caribbean Island. It relies heavily on flashback and mixes expressionism and realism. All the characters seem warped in some fashion. Emperor Jones’ natives rebel, and he seeks to escape through the jungle. O’Neill’s use of ghostly imagery and the haunting drums throughout add greatly to the atmosphere of the play.
The Hairy Ape is full of disillusionment and the evils of the capitalist system, although it does not directly promote socialism. A lower class man is compared to a “filthy beast,” sparking an identity crisis and rage against the machine that ends with the man being crushed to death while trying to free an ape at the zoo for whom he empathizes as a trapped beast put on spectacle for the rich and idle.
All God’s Chillun Got Wings is a psychotic play of miscegenation wherein the white wife of a black lawyer destroys both their lives. Prejudice and the stink of the ghetto provide a pungent backdrop for this drama, which initially seems happy.
Desire Under the Elms deals with a family with a deceased mother and domineering father, with whom the sons struggle for power and/or freedom. Father and son also vie for the same woman, who seduces them both. This is probably my favourite play in the book, though I also really like Mourning Becomes Electra, too. They have some elements in common such as bastard children and the concepts of incest and mothers dominating their sons.
Marco Millions is a retelling or imagining of Marco Polo’s journey to the Orient. There is some interaction between religious values, but the plot focuses upon the love of Kublai Khan’s granddaughter for Marco and his obliviousness to this fact. This is not full-blown comedy, but it is the most comedic of the plays in this collection.
The Great God Brown follows two sons of two architects who are both friends and competitors in love and work. This play uses masks for some characters to hid identity and/or represent vice, which I like because it adds a mystique to an otherwise too-urban play. Betrayal and deceit are the order of the day, tinged with a good dose of dissipation. Nice work.
Lazarus Laughed involves over a hundred actors in a masked chorus following Lazarus of Bethany after Jesus Christ raised him from the dead. There is some philosophic and theological musing in the play, which is superficially a Greek tragedy. Lazarus claims there is no death, but only God’s eternal laughter. Indeed, the more he laughs, the younger and stronger he becomes, although his wife continues to age and weaken. Lazarus is eventually burnt at the stake by the Roman Emperor Tiberius. I didn’t get this play, and I tried to.
Strange Interlude follows the follows the love life of a woman, who repeatedly makes bad choices. She cuckolds her husband, and has multiple men vying for her. The characters have soliloquies in which they speak their thoughts aloud to the audience as well as conventional dialogue with other characters on stage. The play ends with her marrying the older friend of her father as if this is a happy ending, though it fails to be such.
Mourning Becomes Electra is generally considered to be O’Neills magnus opus and for good reason. First of all, it is a grand title. It is a loose retelling of Aeschylus’ Oresteia, will all its murder, adultery, incest, and revenge. It is not quite as good as the original, but it is well done. It is a cycle of three plays following the family of a Civil War hero (or villain, if you’re from the South) that is full of wicked women and weak men whose actions serve to alienate themselves from one another. Suicide, death, and isolation are key themes.
I recommend this book or O’Neill’s work, generally, to all who like the brutal fruit of modernity in their literature. It is a style to which we all can relate, if only to be glad we aren’t devastated by it. The playwright’s word choice is nice, his descriptions first-rate, and his clever sense of alienation keen. Those liking to plays or literature should read at least some of his works. This collection of nine plays is great because it includes his better known and (presumably) best work, and it is in a manageable chunk that is not overwhelming as I suspect a complete collection would be.