Buried Child by Sam Shepard

Reviewed by James Baur       

        Buried Child is a Pulitzer prize winning play written by Sam Shepard that seeks again to tackle the issue of the American Dream and its potential downfalls. Taking place during an economic downturn and the supposed degradation of morality in America, Shepard’s play puts an interesting spin on the typical family drama. What makes this play stand out amongst others is that instead of using larger-than-life caricatures of familiar personality types to express its message, the play throws a curveball and makes each character a sort of inversion on the typical “nuclear family” roles the reader is likely to expect. The father is powerless and lazy, the mother is hardly ever present, the children have failed to follow in the “family business” as per tradition – and to top it all off, a layer of mystery is added as we find out that seemingly everyone has forgotten about the existence of Vince, one of the youngest members of the family. What follows is a brief read that is very engaging and often confusing – but in the right kind of way, where you are likely to read the entire thing in one sitting just to unwrap the tightly packed family secrets kept just out of reach.

                Despite the depressing subject matter and setting, Buried Child’s writing is often humorous in a unique way. In the opening scene, the old and depressed patriarch Dodge has trouble hearing his wife, causing lines to be repeated and frustration to arise between the characters. Moments like this not only serve to emphasize the tedium and growing anger in the family’s life, but also are great for a laugh as the written font gradually increases in size to convey the two shouting, for example. The genius of Buried Child’s comedy is that it always is presented in a way that highlights the depression the characters are going through, so it isn’t always just cheap laughs – it’s trying to get at a main idea, too. Another example is Dodge and his son Tilden’s total fixation on ears of corn. Dodge simply doesn’t believe that corn could be found anywhere nearby, but Tilden insists that it’s right outside. This back-and-forth goes on just long enough to become humorous, while also being reflective of the mindset one may have during a time of extreme economic struggle. 

                Buried Child is a unique read that is well worth the attention of any fan of drama. Taking the traditional “nuclear family” story and turning it inside-out with an added layer of mystery, it never fails to grab the reader’s attention. The play doesn’t use any archaic language and is overall easy to follow provided you read it carefully. As always, I would recommend seeing it performed via YouTube or some other medium if you enjoy it, as seeing things played out in person adds a further understanding to the events that unfold. In the end, the story may not resolve itself in the way you expect, but it certainly does provide a fresh scenario that allows for deep critical analysis and interpretation on the reader’s part.

James Baur is a student at Valparaiso University, in Indiana who lives in Bristol when not away at school. While he studies Japanese and Accounting, he has always had a strong interest in literature and drama, especially classic works.

The Glass Menagerie by Tennessee Williams

Reviewed by James Baur

Premiering in 1944, The Glass Menagerie after a rocky start became a famous play and won the New York Drama Critics’ Circle Award. Like other plays of the period, The Glass Menagerie focuses on the drama of family life and explores topics such as feeling “stuck” in life and achieving ones’ dreams. What makes this play stand out is its unique usage of a narrator that both speaks on the events of the story and takes part in them. As such, the events are presented as he looks back on them in his mind. This really works to the play’s advantage, allowing for much more dramatic conversations, placement of music, and scene descriptions. The narrator claims that his memory isn’t the most reliable, so it’s up to the audience to think about what really happened in these scenes.

            The play focuses on the Wingfield family. Tom, the narrator, is dissatisfied with his life and seeks adventure. However, his obligations to family have prevented him from acting on these desires. Laura, Tom’s sister, is a very shy and sensitive woman who collects small glass statues – the titular “glass menagerie."  Amanda, the mother, seems to be stuck in the past and thoughtfully reminisces on the days of her youth. Finally, and most interestingly, we have the father figure, Mr. Wingfield, only present in the form of a smiling picture on the wall. He isn’t dead, however. Mr. Wingfield chased his own desires and abandoned his family. Each character faces a problem and desires a change in their life, but the way of accomplishing it isn’t immediately apparent.

            The play offers many little subplots, from Tom’s work life to Amanda attempting to arrange a date for the chronically shy Laura. Each share in common this failure to find something that makes them happy. Many will claim that the “glass menagerie” is simply a reference to Laura’s fragile emotional state, but it actually applies to each member of the family and serves as a sort of ironic message to the audience. Whether it is Tom afraid to emulate his father and walk out on his responsibilities, Laura being too nervous to get very far, or Amanda being stuck in her past, they all are afraid to “rock the boat” so to speak. They seem to think that one little knock will shatter this glass menagerie that the story speaks so much of. The story doesn’t end favorably for everyone by any stretch of the imagination, and this is largely because their behaviors do not change throughout it. In fact, the only person that escapes the life presented in the play makes a rather drastic action that may not have even been the morally right choice. The Glass Menagerie seems to urge the audience to make a decision when the time comes instead of endlessly lingering on it. While it may not be the correct one, the only way to find out is by trying.   

            The play is especially enjoyable to read, as the drama is amped up intentionally. Tom uses the excuse that memory allows for things to be presented more dramatically and somewhat unreliably. The stage notes include images and words flashing onto the stage and music appearing at different intervals. The reader will also get a pretty quick idea of the problems of each character and their personalities. They seem to be overstated and larger than life, which adds to entertainment value. The play is not written in any sort of intimidating dialect, and it isn’t very lengthy either. I would highly recommend The Glass Menagerie as an introduction to the genre of American plays for the adult reader. The action is quick, the message is interesting and contemplative, and the interesting “memory” mechanic of the play ensures a unique read, even for one experienced in other plays.

James Baur is a student at Valparaiso University, in Indiana who lives in Bristol when not away at school. While he studies Japanese and Accounting, he has always had a strong interest in literature and drama, especially classic works. 

Classics Corner: A Doll's House

Reviewed by Ambrea

Nora Helmer is a housewife:  she dutifully cooks and cleans, manages the household staff, takes care of the children, and, in general, oversees her husband’s home.  Flighty and lavish, Nora is doted upon by her husband, Torvald, and plays house for him.  But when their home and their very livelihood is threatened by an outsider, Nora’s decisions will come back to haunt her—and it will shake their marriage to its very foundation.

A Doll’s House is an intriguing play and, I think, definitely worth reading—or viewing—at least once, because it offers unparalleled insight into the life of a 19^th century housewife and all the expectations that go along with it.  It’s a sharp in its telling, pinpointing marital flaws and social issues with uncompromising candor.

Nora is essentially a doll.  Through much of Henrik Ibsen’s play, Torvald dictates everything in her life—her clothes, her shoes, her manners, her religious beliefs, her children’s education, and more—and, when she makes decisions for herself (for the health of her husband, mind you), she is chastised and even threatened.  She’s given no leeway, no sense of individuality, and, essentially, no hope.  She’s a toy, a plaything, and she’s not really given the opportunity to change that, until her world comes crashing down around her.

I found it particularly fascinating to see how Nora grows up in an instant, how she changes dramatically when given the opportunity.  As things begin to fall apart—when her marriage and, yes, her very life is threatened—I thought it was interesting to see how she began to view herself and her husband through new eyes.  She begins to see her own self-worth, which is certainly an astonishing thing for a housewife who has known nothing else, and she views her husband for the man he is and not the man she imagined.  She begins to see happiness as a desirable thing, even if it means flouting social convention.

I was intrigued by her transformation.  More importantly, I was thrilled by her final speech when she decides that things must change—that she must change if she’s ever going to survive, if she’s ever going to become her own person.  Her moment of clarity is sudden and brilliant:  her happiness is important too.

And she will stop the cycle, as she states when she tells Torvald she has never been happy:

Torvald:  Not—not happy!

Nora:  No, only merry.  And you have always been so kind to me.  But our home has been nothing but a playroom.  I have been your doll wife, just as at home I was Papa’s doll child; and here the children have been my dolls.  I thought it great fun when you played with me, just as they thought it was great fun when I played with them.  That is what our marriage has been, Torvald.

Nora has a startling insight into her marriage that changes the entire dynamic of their relationship.  Her transformation is astonishing, and her decision would have been unheard of.  The fact that she made a decision for herself at all would have been surprising in the heavily moderated and monitored Victorian society.  It’s actually pretty fascinating, and I think that Henrik Ibsen does a fantastic job of capturing the drama of a fractured domestic life.

Admittedly, A Doll’s House does have a few moments where it grows dull and dry, making it difficult to slog through the dialogue.  Honestly, the last five pages or so of the play were exactly what I was waiting to find—that’s exactly when the real drama unfolds and Nora shocks everyone (her husband included) by making a decision against convention.  Everything else then feels like idle chatter.