ARTicles vol. 2 i.3b: Uneasy Union

“I start off with people, who come into a particular situation. I certainly don’t write from any kind of abstract idea. And I wouldn’t know a symbol if I saw one. … I take a chance on the audience.” – Harold Pinter, February, 1961 Harold Pinter doesn’t gift wrap his plays. The Birthday Party, his first full-length play, experimented boldly with language, form and theatricality. The experiment has since proven to be a seminal drama of the twentieth century. Pinter’s signature skill as playwright is best illustrated by his unexpected blend of brutality and comedy. Humor entices the audience into Pinter’s world. The opening sequences of all his early plays begin with a comic exchange between two characters. In The Room (1960), Rose speaks for five pages without interruption about the comfort and joy of her home to her silent husband. The Birthday Party also begins with a comic domestic situation. Meg calls, “Is that you, Petey? (Pause.) Petey, is that you? (Pause.) Petey?” And when Petey responds, “What?” Meg maintains her line of questioning, “Is that you?” Meg’s introduction establishes an absurdity in inquiry that will dominate most of the play. While the simplicity of her language reveals a generally sympathetic character, the sweet (and somewhat daft) old innkeeper, it is with this very same use of language that the destruction of the hero occurs. Stanley’s entrance introduces not only our protagonist but also the anxiety that pervades the rest of the play. Much of Stanley’s dialogue gives the impression of deception. We do not trust him. Why does he insist on being so mean to dear old Meg? Whoever he is, he does not strike us as entirely on the up and up. The arrival of Goldberg and McCann heightens the mood of menace. They too seem to be operating within a web of deception. Goldberg gives us several alternate first names, which confuse even his partner. Despite a private conversation between the pair, the only information we ever glean is that they are here to do a “job.” We begin to understand the nature of the job only when they encounter Stanley. Goldberg and McCann’s interrogation of Stanley exemplifies the blend of comedy and violence until the latter shatters the former. But Stanley is never the victim of direct physical violence in the text. In fact, he perpetrates the only “verifiable” act of physical violence. He is, however, the victim of verbal abuse that seeks to intimidate and subjugate. Through the tongue-lashing they hurl at Stanley, Goldberg and McCann strip him of his individuality and control him. The torture peaks when the questions the pair ask are at their most absurd and familiar: Goldberg: Why did the chicken cross the road? Stanley: He wanted. … McCann: He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know which came first! Goldberg: Which came first? McCann: Chicken? Egg? Which came first? Goldberg and McCann: Which came first? Which came first? Which came first? Stanley screams. Goldberg and McCann go on to threaten Stanley but the source of his undoing lies in the power of language not physical violence. Goldberg and McCann’s verbal assault is fashioned around the degradation of meaning which in turn, defeats Stanley. The loss of self-possession is hardly a laughing matter, but Pinter’s approach is not altogether serious. Instead he undercuts the comedy with a brutality of language. Pinter layers disparate emotions in an effort to leave the audience ill at ease. Responding to a single emotion, either humor or fear is easy and Pinter has no intention of being easy. We leave the theatre uncomfortable, and return to our world poised for our own Pinter plays. Amy Nora Long is a first-year dramaturgy student at the A.R.T./MXAT Institute for Advanced Theatre Training.