Moss. I lied. Alright? My end is my business. Your end's twenty-five. In or out. You tell me, you're out you take the consequences.
Aaranow. I do?
Moss. Yes.
Aaranow. And why is that?
Moss. Because you listened.
Moss. What's your name?
Blake. Fuck you, that's my name. (from the film version)
You may not believe this, but Glengarry Glen Ross is now considered a classic of contemporary American theater. Right now it is playing in previews on Broadway, starring Al Pacino. Pacino starred also in the film version, but then playing the young hustler Ricky Roma: now, older and more grizzled, he plays Shelly Levine, the desperate salesman we meet in scene one. The play was revived quite successfully in 2005, with Alan Alda of MASH fame as Levine. If Willy Loman and Death of a Salesman are King Lear for American actors (and British too, as we saw in the last blog), then Mamet and Glengarry Glen Ross are Hamlet: some of the hardest dialogue written for actors, but some of the most pleasurable for actors. Mamet is also a screenwriter and film director, best known for his script for The Untouchables starring Kevin Costner and Sean Connery, his television series The Unit, and his play American Buffalo. As well as this play, clearly.
Mamet is hard to read on the page with all the pauses and all that's hinted at but unsaid, the convoluted cadence of his language. Take a look at 3 clips below. The first I gave you a couple days ago, with Alec Baldwin as Blake, the man sent from Mitch and Murray to "inspire" the sales office. It also makes clear what's at stake for these men. The second is a moment from scene 1 between Levine (Jack Lemmon) and Williamson (Kevin Spacey). The third is the opening of scene 2 with Moss (Ed Harris) and Aaranow (Alan Arkin).
So: 1. Your reaction to the play so far? What do you like? Dislike? Is it an easy read? Difficult? In either case, how so?
2. What's the play about to you? What line in the play so far best captures what it's about—and how so?
Write a couple hundred words. I hope all was fine in class and that it helped you get the reading done.
Folks, I'm sorry I wasn't in class today. I hope Nat led a good discussion and you did well by him. This isn't the way I like to finish up books, particular books as important as this one. But we work with what we got. I'm probably not going to be in tomorrow, and so I'll leave the sub instructions.Be sure to bring a copy of Glengarry Glen Ross by David Mamet tomorrow.
First: just for fun: a spoof of Death of a Salesman by that great old comedy group Second City TV. It's spoof and parody at the same time, as Fantasy Island, The Wizard of Oz, Star Trek, George Carlin and Jake Elwood of The Blues Brothers are all touched upon here. Most of the cultural jokes will probably not make sense to you—this is almost 30 years old after all. But imagine a time when television assumed its audience had the cultural background to make sense of such a bizarre satire.
Now: help me know what you all talked about in class today.
Period Two: what did you say—personally, whether you spoke up or not—about who the hero is of the play? The first person to answer, let me know what the class said, and others in the class can add to that.
Period Five: What do you, personally, think about the question of whether this is an anti-capitalist or anti-business play? And same as above: first person to blog, let me know what the class said, and others can add to this description as everyone blogs.
Finally. As a preview to Glengarry Glen Ross, look at the two clips below. It's a scene not in the play, but was added to the film adaptation by Mamet himself. It sets the stage well for both the subject and theme of the play. The company man, Blake, is played by Alec Baldwin (he plays the same guy, really, in 30 Rock: just a lot nicer and funnier); Levine is Jack Lemmon (in the new production on Broadway at this moment he is played by Al Pacino); Moss is Ed Harris; Aaranow is Alan Arkin; and Kevin Spacey is Williamson.
Biff: Why am I trying to become what I don't want to be? What am I doing in an office, making a contemptuous fool of myself. when all I want is out there, waiting for me the minute I say I know who I am! (132)
Biff: I'm a dime a dozen, and so are you!
Willy: I am not a dime a dozen! I am Willy Loman and you are Biff Loman! (132)
Biff: Pop, I'm nothing! I'm nothing! Can't you understand that? There's no spite in it any more. I'm just what I am, that's all. (133)
Happy: I'm gonna show you and everybody else that Willy Loman did not die in vain. He had a good dream. It's the only dream you can have—to come out number-one man. He fought it out here, and this is where I'm gonna win it for him. (139)
Linda: I search and search and I search and I can't understand it, Willy. I made the last payment on the house today. And there'll be nobody home. We're free and clear. We're free. (139)
"Beating the odds begins with a positive attitude."
That last line I heard on some show aimed at children on Saturday morning cable t.v. The segment was on a young boy who didn't have arms but played soccer and whose goal was to play professionally. And one of the two hosts—good-looking twenty-somethings, one white and female and the other black and male—made that statement. It's the kind of statement Willy Loman heard all his life.
Get ready for some clips. First, something very different, an acclaimed British National Theatre production from 1996. It is a revival of an even earlier production starring the same Willy, Warren Mitchell, but with—wrap your heads around this—Mel Gibson as Biff (who is not in this production). And Mel got great reviews.
Now look at part of the same scene from a 1966 movie starring the original Willy and Linda, Lee J. Cobb and Mildred Dunnock. This is 16 years after that original production and Cobb is old and perhaps not up to the task—but perhaps that adds a certain poignancy to his portrayal.
Now, Hoffman, Malkovich, Kate Reid and Stephen Lang.
And finally, the final scene and requiem from this production.
It's funny to hear British accents in the first clip, but for me it doesn't take away from the power of the play (and this is a play that has been performed in translation in Israel, in China, in Japan: which says something of the universality of its themes). So:
1. A comment on the different interpretations of Willy in these clips? 3-4 sentences. Perhaps address which one you liked? Which one worked for you? A brief comparison or contrast of the different actors?
2. Your reaction to the play now that you have finished it? Now that you've finished it, what would you say the play is ultimately about—and why? (I know, the American Dream: but make that not the end point but the starting point for your response)
3. What line in the play best captures its meaning for you?
4. Answer in a couple sentences: is Willy heroic at the end? Don't cut this question off with "He committed suicide, and that's not heroic," even though I imagine some of you feel this. Arthur Miller wrote, "I must confess here to a miscalculation...I did not realize while writing the play that so many people in the world do not see as clearly, or would not admit, as I thought they must, how futile most lives are, so there could be no hope of consoling the audience for the death of this man. I did not realize either how few would be impressed by the fact that this man is actually a very brave spirit who cannot settle for half but must pursue his dream of himself to the end." You obviously don't have to agree with Miller, but at the very least, grapple with what he says. Like much of the play, Willy's suicide asks us to confront what we have been told of the way the world works. Work hard and you will succeed; the best cars or washing machines are the ones with the biggest ads; business must make people into old dogs, fruit, or widgets; beating the odds begins with a positive attitude. Suicide may or may not be cowardly. But think of, for example, soldiers who willingly give up their lives for their comrades, knowing full well that what they will do will result in their death. We say, "It was suicidal, what they did." Indeed. With that in mind, consider Willy's final act.
There will be a quiz tomorrow in class. See you all then.
Bernard: But sometimes, Willy, it's better for a man to walk away.
Willy: Walk away?
Bernard: That's right.
Willy: But if you can't walk away?
Bernard: I guess that's when it's tough. (93)
Maybe the above exchange helps explain a guy that is so hard to understand. Can Willy walk away from the way his life went? Can he walk away from the myriad of bad choices and mistakes he made? Can what he did well—his efforts to be a good father and husband, his dedication to a job that is killing him, his nearly unshakeable belief in his dream—make up for all he didn't do well? Can we walk away from our dreams? This is the quandary for Willy, for all the Lomans: how do you walk way from the life you've created, problematic as it has been? It appears only one Loman can even comprehend this option. Biff.
Take a look at the scene in the restaurant below, from pages 112-115.
This is a crucial moment in the play. The focus of it subtly changes from Willy to Biff, I would argue. And now we see something begin to happen that provides a glimmer of hope in a general hopeless narrative. If this is at all true...
1. Think about what happens in the restaurant, not just in the scene above, but from the moment Biff shows up on 101. What is possibly, potentially, the glimmer of hope that we see here? Go ahead and quote a couple times from the play.
2. For period two only: we haven't really talked about Biff or Happy. So what do you think of Happy? How would you characterize him, using this scene in the restaurant as a starting point?
2.For period five: Willy realizes he has one friend in the world, Charley. Charley, who admits to "nobody [being able] to say I'm in love with [Willy]." Yet he does what Howard won't: he gives Willy money. Is Charley a fool for doing this? Why can he do this while Howard can't or won't?
3. For those who didn't talk in class today. What would you have said if you had spoken up? What point would you have made for any part of the discussion today?
3. For those of you who did talk in class today. Willy behaves awfully toward Biff in the scene above. Either Dustin Hoffman or the director Volker Schlöndorff or both together emphasize this almost petty cruelty in Willy that pops up every so often, mostly when he's at his most stressed. Yet even here, Biff—like Charley—does not reject Willy. It's as if they both recognize something that allows them to overlook the cruelty in Willy. What might they recognize? What makes them not reject Willy?
That's three questions for everybody. Write a couple hundred words. Thanks for the hones responses you gave in class today. We'll see you tomorrow.
Howard: This is no time for false pride, Willy. You go to your sons and tell them you're tired. You've got great boys, haven't you?
Willy: No question, no question, but in the meantime...
Howard: Then that's that, heh?
Willy: All right, I'll go to Boston tomorrow.
Howard: No, no.
Willy: I can't throw myself on my sons. I'm not a cripple! (83-84)
This,
to me, is one of the greatest moments in American Theater, Willy
Loman's destruction. Take a look below at this scene with Dustin Hoffman
and Jon Polito as Howard:
This is the moment where Arthur Miller truly tests our commitment to Linda's view of Willy—if we are committed at all to the notion, as we said at the very end of second period today, that we have to respect the sanctity of Willy's humanity, as Linda pleads with us to do. In the past, many students could not go there. "Business is business," Howard tells Willy in a country whose business is business: and what that saying means to Miller becomes brutally clear here.
So:
1. Quick question. Do you care about Willy's fate? Or has he alienated you to the extent that you don't care whether or not he is fired? As I said in class, Miller deliberately made Willy a difficult character, as many of you said in class today. This is particularly clear during the Loman Brothers scene where Willy constantly belittles Linda. So do you still find yourself caring about what happens to Willy?
2. Dysfunction, thy name is Loman. The problem with the Lomans we see so clearly with Happy's "feasible idea" of the Loman Brothers. What does this show to you about the Lomans?
3. Finally. Should Howard have fired Willy? And why?
Willy: I got nothing to give him, Charley, I'm clean, I'm clean.
Charley: He won't starve. None of them starve. Forget about him.
Willy: Then what have I got to remember? (45-46)
Why is Willy so fixated on Biff's success or failure? The quote above answers the question pretty well. And how terrifying is Willy's descent into madness or senility, into what Linda simply says is something "terrible" (56)? The post title addresses that succinctly as well. Look below at the clip from the film version of the 1984 Broadway revival starring Dustin Hoffman, Kate Reid as Linda, John Malkovich as Biff, Stephen Lang as Happy, and Charles Durning as Charley. It captures powerfully the way the past overcomes Willy's present.
Two questions for you all tonight.
1. Your reaction to the clip above? Does it fit what you've been seeing in your mind as you've been reading the play? Does it make clearer what we've been talking about in class? What do you think of Dustin Hoffman as Willy? Of course, in the play, Willy says, "'I'm fat. I'm very—foolish to look at" (37), but that's because the actor originally cast as Willy, Lee J.Cobb, was a big man. Miller originally had a small man in mind. (Notice too how Linda is as big, if not bigger, than Willy: in the original production, she was a tiny woman compared to Willy)
2. The reading ends with Linda's passionate defense of and argument for Willy. It's a powerful plea for this man who Linda acknowledges isn't "great." Please look at 55 to 57, starting with "Biff, dear, if you don't have any feeling for him, then you can't have any feeling for me" and ending with her characterizing Happy as a "philandering bum." Do you agree with Linda's argument for Willy here? All of it? Parts of it? Are we supposed to accept everything she says as the gospel truth? What does she say that particularly jumps out at you, and why? Go ahead and quote what she says to answer that last question.
What you have begun reading is unarguably the greatest American drama of the post-World War Two era. That doesn't mean it is a perfect piece of art, but as New York Times critic Charles Isherwood said of this year's Broadway production starring Phillip Seymour Hoffman and Andrew Garfield (Jenny saw it): "'Death of a Salesman' remains a touchstone work of American drama that
speaks as powerfully to readers and viewers today as it did to audiences
in 1949, when Miller’s dissection of the moral rot at the heart of an
average American family left audiences stunned by the force of its perceptions."As I said in class, Willy Loman is Hamlet or King Lear for American actors. It is the great American character and has been played by actors as dissimilar as Phillip Seymour Hoffman and Dustin Hoffman. Whether you end up liking the play or not, you are reading a true American classic.
To get us started. Below is the opening minutes of the 2000 Broadway production starring Brian Dennehy, an actor known more for his action roles like in First Blood, the original Rambo movie, or in the "classic" Tommy Boy. Who knew the man had the serious acting chops to pull off Willy Loman?
My questions:
1. Your reactions to what you've read so far?
2. Which line or lines have jumped off the page for you? Or which line or lines best defines what you see the play as being about so far? Quote the line or lines and tell why you picked them. I want everyone to choose something different, so there should be 28 different line or lines.
Write a couple hundred words answering these 2 questions.
Like Kingsfield does with the lessons in his class, Osborn the writer manages to get us from day one of Hart's law school education to the last day—and beyond, to what has to be the most important part of the class: the grade, of course. And we never find out what the grade is. The film version wusses out on this crucial point, perhaps the most important part of the book, by showing Kingsfield grading the tests; and, surprise, surprise, Hart gets an A. Maybe the novel implies this—Hart is just itching to take his exam, unlike the students "moving blindly toward the nearest seat in a short mindless dance, their arms hanging limp at their sides" (219). Kevin's not wrong about Hart. Hart does have it made. But not, the novel implicitly tells us, in the way Kevin defines having it made.
I've always loved the ending of the book: Hart wins. It's important to note that he does not quit law school in a moral huff—in today's terms he still will get that $165,000 job after graduation (and a student of Hart's caliber will get that job). So will Ford. So will Anderson. Bell, on the other hand, probably not. But the novel asks as we've been saying for the last week, what is the price for that success? And the novel dares to posit "success" as something different than what Anderson sees it as, different than it is for those students who felt compelled to write down "Planet of the Apes" in their notes when their professor uttered it in class, different than what it is for the professors who expect doors to be opened for them by their students, and different than the way Kingsfield presents it to Hart. So:
1. What is success to Hart? How do we know this? Quote in your response.
2. The novel comes to a peak with that great chapter showing Hart and Ford studying for a week. This is the logical conclusion to Hart's journey through the novel. What does this show him—and Ford—having learned?
3. "'What was your name?'" This is our last glimpse of Kingsfield. What do you think of him at this moment?
4. Finally: your reaction to the novel? Like? Dislike? Why?
Again, feel free to respond to what others say. PLEASE do not simply repeat in agreement what others have said: use that agreement as a stepping stone for you to make your own unique, individual commentary.
Well, things are happening at good ol' HLS as the school year comes to an end. Those darn kids are giving their beloved professors gifts and party favors, there's hugs and kisses all around, lessons are learned, and everyone can't wait until next year to do it all again.
The television adaptation of our text which ran for four years never went this far, but, if you remember, or go back to, the clip I posted last week, it was close.The title song by pop rock faves Seals and Crofts set the tone:
"The first years are hard years
Much more than we know.
With good friends to love us
We'll field every row.
Stay open to all things,
Unknown and new.
Then one day, we'll all say,
Hey, look we've come through
The first years."
I'm not sure what the theme song would be for the novel we're about to finish, but it sure isn't this song. For me, it's terrifying book in many ways. Isabella asked in class today, "Why would anyone go through what we see go in the book, even for $165,000?" And Jimmy as he has before asked the essential question,"Is the end worth the price one pays?" The book certainly points out that many willingly accept the price the book illustrates. It also gives us a main character who is rapidly now figuring out how maybe to change the rules that everyone else have accepted as necessary for achieving the goal: passing. "'Just grade point,'" Anderson tells Hart about why he studies Kingsfield's movement from afar. He doesn't share the love-hate relationship Hart has with the imperious teacher nor the way Hart sees the building as some living thing, "like an animal"; Anderson doesn't feel the passions Hart does. He simply feels the need for an A.
This said:
1. Your reaction to Kevin's suicide attempt? We've seen it coming for awhile now: either he was going to kill someone else, or kill himself, the book has implied for a long while now. But this moment still is shocking, still horrifying. So your reaction? Along with this, could you say how this makes you see Kevin: a pathetic loser, a guy who couldn't cut it and got what he deserved—or something else? And what made him try to kill himself—was it simply or only his obvious failures at the law school, or were there other factors involved? Please don't simply agree or disagree with others, though you can: try to add to our understanding of this moment of the novel with your answer, okay?
2. "'I'll think I'll pass'" (210). Your reaction and the meaning of this moment to you?
3. Finally. One of the points I have on the board concerning our discussion of what the book is about—and a question that we have to always refer back to—is what is the school teaching these students? The book clearly says it's teaching them more than law. It's teaching them as lawyers, as perhaps Harvard educated lawyers, how they should see the world: how they should see their position in the world: how they should conduct themselves in the world. No better place where we see this, though there have been others, than the class's reaction to Hart's refusal to answer Kingsfield's question. Your reaction to the class's reaction? And can a line be drawn from their reaction—their behavior—to the classroom itself, to specifically how Kingsfield has taught them?
Again, be willing to ask each other questions: and everyone come back once and respond to a classmates' comment. By the way, I really enjoyed class today, both classes: lots of good thinking going on.
Hart is losing it in Chapter 34. And as was said in both classes today, one of the great questions of the novel is how deliberate Kingsfield is in his treatment of his students, particularly Hart. Does he really not know Hart's name? Was he deliberately ignoring Hart's desperate condition after Hart's debilitating four days? Is he here consciously punishing Hart for, as Hart thinks, "the unfinished paper" (151)? Certainly Kingsfield is capable of, to use Isabella's word from today, cruelty: the way he calls on Kevin—the hands down worst student in the class—when Kevin has moved to the back row, having ceded his seat to another more confident student. "'Is Mr. Brooks here today?'" Kingsfield asks when he knows for certain he is (156). Hart thinks earlier in the novel that "back benching," as it's called at HLS, made for these students like Kevin "an uneasy experience, possibly because the professors respected this truce and would not try to ferret out a student from the anonymous group at the back" (33). An implicit contract: the professors generally accept the arrangement...until they don't, as Kingsfield doesn't at the moment he calls out Kevin. And again, we are compelled to ask the question, is this right on Kingsfield's part? Is he carrying out the implicit contract he has with his students—or, as Sam said today, the contract he has as one human being to another.
This is what I wrote on last night's blog. I don't know how many of you read it; it was up on the board today as well.
I want to add to Jake's comment.
Does Kingsfield care about Hart? This goes to the question I posed about
the implicit contract Harvard Law School has with Hart the student.
Molly stated that you go to Harvard Law School to get a law degree.
Indeed. That is the overt contract. Hart works—and if he survives, as
the television Kingsfield intones—he will get a law degree. That's
school. BUT. Does a school, a place of education, owe its students more?
Is the school you attend only about the degree you get at the end of
senior year? Is that all school is supposed to be? Osborn asks in the
intro to my edition, "The idea of reciprocity [that is, a mutual
exchange] is important for contract law because it has to do with the
expectations of those who form a contract. When people enter into a
deal, they expect something in return." It's clear that Hart feels a
responsibility to Kingsfield to finish the paper he's worked on for
nearly three weeks and in the process exhausting himself. Look at the
quote:"In a burst of moral responsibility—a feeling that he owed more than he could repay, that Kingsfield had trusted him and he'd destroyed that trust—Hart decided he would finish the paper" (135) . Does Kingsfield owe Hart some degree of
compassion and kindness, if only to look at him when he is in his
presence? Look at how Kingsfield is described as
Hart asks for more time because Hart felt he had a "moral
responsibility" to fulfill the trust his teacher gave him. It is not a
legal contract, of course, but Hart does believe in the concept of
reciproctiy, which is at the heart (no pun intended) of the course
Kingsfield is teaching him. In Chapter 1, Kingsfield asks Hart what he
thinks the doctor owes the boy whose hand was made hairy by the doctor's
treatment—so what does Kingsfield owe Hart as his student? As someone who feels a trust with his professor, his teacher? as a fellow human being who worked his butt off to both impress and do right by his teacher? So...
1. Does Kingsfield owe Hart anything? Kingsfield does not owe Hart anything based on the explicit contract the two have as professor-student at HLS: but as both Sam and Cam brought up in second period, and as I ask in my response above, doesn't Kingsfield owe Hart more than he gives in this moment? Why or why not? 2. A few of you, Andrew most vocally, said that there is no implicit contract between you and me in the classroom. There is a contract with the school, but not with me. Is this true? What is the contract you have with me—and that I have with you, in your eyes? Please don't answer these questions quickly. As I said in class today, you have to be truer to the text than some of you have been—Hart did not complain to Kingsfield. And some of you are writing responses that appear as though they were composed in 5 minutes or less, even if they weren't. I want more from you. So write a couple hundred words to answer the two questions. Feel free, as always, and I love it when you do, to comment on what your classmates have written. See you tomorrow.
"In a burst of moral responsibility—a feeling that he owed more than he could repay, that Kingsfield had trusted him and he'd destroyed that trust—Hart decided that he would finish the paper" (135).
Hart has reached the first crucible of his year at Harvard Law School, and we see that Susan indeed has reason to worry about him. One lesson of Chapter 32 for the reader, particularly the student reader, is "don't try this at home."
Respond to the following statements based on your reading of Chapters 28-32.
1. Hart is becoming the dick the law school wants him to be. Agree or disagree. Support your answer.
2. Kingsfield is a sadist. Agree or disagree. Support your answer.
3. Harvard Law School has broken its implicit contract with Hart. Agree or disagree. Support your answer.
What I'd like for everyone to do is come back to the blog and respond to an answer by someone in your class: agree, disagree, add to, complement. I'm wanting you all to actually read what your classmates are saying (not that you aren't already) and let them know you're thinking about what they're saying.
Finally:
This is about 10 minutes of the 1973 film version. It's much more romantic than the novel, not surprisingly. But if you skip ahead to about the 6:40 mark, you can see the entire study group as it is portrayed in the film. Kingsfield asks his question, and, in succession, we see Anderson, Bell, O'Connor (now an ex-member in the book), Ford, and finally and unfortunately for him, Kevin. Take a look: I'll ask you what you think of this portrayal tomorrow in class.
