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anthonywashrosado · 5 years

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Who’s Afraid of Insightful Interpretation? - Edward Albee’s “Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?” Play Review

Bernard Dukore and Matthew Roudané’s essays on Edward Albee’s Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?assert interpretations that lead the reader, by the end of each essay, to question the relevance of internal and external evidence presented. The internal evidence, that which is taken from the work, used by Roudané is more useful than the internal evidence presented by Dukore. “Useful”, or insightful, here ascribes value to the article. The article, or essay, is valuable if it is able to use internal and/or external evidence in support of an interpretation, evaluation, or analysis. This kind of critique allows the reader to judge or appraise the reading, rather than accept that the reading is the only interpretation. Although both writers reference external evidence, that which is taken from outside sources, only Roudané evidences his conclusions with historical facts; ones that Albee hints to in his play. Dukore’s perspective favores the traditional western literary lens. This scope is far too broad, and leaves space for any work to be interpreted in any way when compared to any thing in history. Roudané’s essay is more insightful, in that he offers a lens that is realistic and relevant.

While western traditional literary models will always be relevant in a society that idolizes western canonical values, it is a stretch to take a mid-twentieth century play and equate it to Medeafor the sake of proving that it does not compare to the glory of this classic tragedy. Dukore, as will be seen later, directs his readers to accept the connections he has provided. That is it. This is not useful, in that it pushes the reader too far from the work at hand. Roudané, on the other hand, presents a point and uses the internal and external evidence in conjunction to prove himself. He deduces his reasoning from logical associations between Albee’s artwork and his life experiences at Trinity College.

Roudané validates the violence present in Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?The violence not only keeps the audience present as the night trudges along, he argues, but it also leads Martha to a place vulnerable enough for an exorcism of sorts. The exorcism of the “son-myth” (Roudané, 102) reveals the true roles of George, Martha, Nick, and Honey. Martha, the wife; the possessed. George, the husband; the exorcist. Honey and Nick, as Roudané sees them, become George’s “...assistants...whose unwitting participation in the ritual makes for a successful operation.” (Roudané, 102) The audience also exist as witnesses to confirm the efficacy of the exorcism. While it is argued that Martha and george are non-believably vicious towards one another, Roudané opens his essay with a compelling Virginia Woolfe quote from her novelBetween the Acts:

“Before they slept, they must fight; after they had fought, they would embrace. From that embrace, another life might be born. But first they must fight, as the dog fights with the vixen, in the heart of darkness, in the fields of night.”

Roudané, I would argue, acknowledges, the love behind George’s actions’ intentions. He does not take George and Martha’s words and exchanges at “face value”. Although covered with rabid words, their interactions and moments apart expressed a deep codependency. They love each other unconditionally.

While it can be argued who depends on who more, Roudané interprets George’s exorcism as his necessary removal of their son, or “son-myth”, from Martha. “When [she] becomes transfixed on her child [, their myth,] and hurts the most...” then George acts. (Roudané, 106) To support the essential and ritualistic happening of the night, Roudané utilizes the internal evidence of George’s recitation of the “Requiem Mass”. Roudané perceives the instance in act three when Martha describes their son as the “...one thing I’ve tried to carry pure and unscathed through this marriage...” as the moment “...of expiation, a cleansing intensified by George’s pleas for mercy evoked by his Dies iraeallusion.” (Albee, 241; Roudané, 107)

The exorcism, climax, ritual, final act is, for Roudané, a juncture of truth for George and Martha. The role of Honey and Nick is internally evidenced in Albee’s play:

George: ...peel labels, sweetie; and when you get through the skin, all three layers, through the muscles, slosh aside the organs (An aside to Nick)them which still is sloshable--(Back to Honey)and get down to the bone...you know what you do then? Honey: (Terribly interested)No!

George: When you get down to the bone, you haven’t gone all the way yet. There’s something

inside the bone...the marrow...and that’s what you gotta get at. (A strange smile to Martha)(Albee, 212) Roudané applies this internal evidence to assert his argument that George’s intent was based purely in love for Martha. Once the “son-myth” was provoked by Martha, she chartered George’s enticement to extend a welcoming stay to their witnesses. The act of unveiling of their “son” was a perepiteia that set the literal stage act two, titled Walpurgisnacht. The word is from the May Day Festival in Germany, where a “...cacophony of loud noises, incense, and holy water are used to achieve purgation...” or the purification/cleansing of someone/thing. (Roudané, 104) This ceremony, or “The Witches’ Sabbath,” is executed to exorcise demonic possessions. Following Albee’s hint to a calm before the storm, George transitions to the bar. He suggests drink after drink for their post-midnight guests, until the young couple are as drunk as their hosts. The night’s intoxicated state, ravenous volume, and proliferous cigarette smoke amplified each character’s intensity and sensitivity.

Roudané views the exorcism as more than the title of act three. To him it is the final event of the night, before the sun rises. He identifies it as a coming to the most sacred place of George and Martha’s love. Their restored sense of reality that comes with the “essential [sacrifice] if community order and harmony are to be restored.” (Roudané, 104) This argument is emphasized with a line from René Girard’s Violence in the Sacred, “Violence is the heart and secret of the sacred.” The violence that runs rampant throughout Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?is necessary and it is the cornerstone of what their night requires to be successful, that is for George and Martha. The affection expressed between George and Martha is not overt until the play’s end. It is disguised beneath actualized threats and haphazard verbal stabs. Roudané establishes value and beauty “between the lines” of Albee’s play. His exuberant writing style, I perceive, connotes an appreciation for Albee’s structural and content-based playwriting frameworks.

It is difficult to discern whether Dukore attempted to interpret or evaluate the work, until the end of his essay A Warp in Albee’s Woolf. He debates that the play has not “...succeeded in shaping the classical story in contemporary terms.” (Dukore, 99) For him, the work is of lesser value when compared to the classical tragedy that he states it is adapted from. He translates the title as an homage to Virginia Woolfe’s protagonist in her novel Orlando. His inclusion of external evidence, in this regard, is counter-effective to his argument. Moreso, it is an outlier that has no value to this discourse. Orlando experiences a gender-transition. Whether physically altered or solely trans-identified, Orlando’s “coming of gender” story can not be compared to the

“...change of sexual roles...” in Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?It seems as though Dukore is confused with sexuality, gender, and gender roles.

Aside from the title, Dukore beats around the bush in accusing Albee of literary thievery. His accusation is not solely based on his parallel to Medea, but also on Albee’s refusal to take accountability for doing so. Herein lies a grande issue, one that renders Dukore to be one of the least useful critics that I have ever reviewed. He relates the internal evidence of child murder and George’s emasculation to the world of Medea. As a critic, I would not ever devalue Rent in relation to Remeau’s Les Paladins, nor would I ascribe value to Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?in the context of Shakespeaere’s many glorified and ageless works. I appreciate the reference of scholarly and praised work, yet I am tired and bored by the entitlement of people who have the institutionally accredited “right” to claim a work successful or not; in comparison to an older, widely acclaimed work. Dukore compares Martha to Jason from Medea. Her adultery and status as daughter of a high ranking authoritarian are parallels concocted by Dukore. He notes that Martha cheats, as does jason. He then mirrors Martha and Medea’s fathers: Martha’s being the president of the university and Medea’s as Helios, god of the sun. Adding insult to injury, Dukore correlates Medea and George’s child-murders.

It needs to be noted that aside from Medea’s murder of her real-life children, her motivation was spawned from pure revenge. George kills his “son” in order to exorcise that which has been a daunting, malevolent force in both Martha’s life and their marriage. To associate the two acts as synonymous murders is to make George more ruthless towards Martha than he actually is. He loves her, and accepts her attacks. Dukore defines these attacks as emasculating gestures. However, the dehumanization Martha spits via words of fury at George produce emasculation not for the sake of emasculating, but for the cloaking of her own gender-based insecurities. Martha can not conceive children. Needless to say, Dukore’s arguments are a far stretch.

When a critic references internal and external evidence they need to keep in mind that the discourse between the reader and rtici is successful only if it allots the reader autonomy to appraise the critic’s stance. If the critic is unable to provide the reader this requisite resources, then they are ineffective and therefore not useful.

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