Who's Afraid of Virgnia Woolf? by Edward Albee may well be titled "Who's Afraid of Reality?" In this article, we will explore the amaranthine tensions between illusions and reality, and the (unexpected) optimism for humanity in exploring the possibilities for a future grounded in honesty.
By: Coach Isabella and Coach Ken
Introduction
In the early 1960s, Edward Albee constructed Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? with the vigour of a budding playwright and the frustration of a young man discontent with the rapid homogenisation of American society. Albee regarded the culture of social conformity of the 1950s and the population’s naïve ebullience towards the nation’s economic growth with displeasure - he felt that Americans were coddled in a cradle of complacent idealism, oblivious to the slow deformation of social values around them.
Hence, Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? was born; a scathing and fierce dramatic investigation into the American psyche; dramatising the tensions between illusion and reality to probe and challenge the American ideals of marriage, the mythos of the American dream, American social values and norms. To emphasise the pitfalls of living within illusions, Albee illustrates the distortion an individual’s perception of reality, and beyond that, inhibit emotional maturation. Albee does suggest a redeeming factor for us, though - that illusions can ultimately be defeated when we decide to confront reality with candour and authenticity, however painful the process may be.
Infantilised by Illusion, Minds and Selves in Stasis
Through his vivid characterisations of infantilised adults, Albee presents mental and emotional regression as an ill-fated consequence of living within illusions. This idea is best captured in the image of Honey “rolled up like a foetus, sucking away”, as shown in the following excerpt:
GEORGE [Pause . . . considers]: Why, I don't know. We're having a party, aren't we? [To NICK, who has moved from the bar] I passed your wife in the hall. I mean, I passed the John and I looked in on her. Peaceful ... so peaceful. Sound asleep . . . and she's actually . . . sucking her thumb. MARTHA: Awwwwww! GEORGE: Rolled up like a foetus, sucking away. Act II, Page 89 (Vintage)
Here, Honey’s state of living within illusions is exemplified by her being “peaceful” and “sound asleep”, especially considering that sleep and unconsciousness are symbolic of escapism - a tool frequently used by the play’s characters to dodge the unbearable clenches of reality (the humiliation from Geoge’s derisive game of “Get the Guests'', in Honey’s case). Additionally, Albee’s use of infantile imagery of an adult retrograding towards child-like mannerisms is disconcerting and unnerving to the audience, as they can sense the incongruity of an adult - one supposedly basking in the bright halo of university education and playing the sophisticated role of a professor’s wife - who has yet to evolve into maturity. Moreover, this infantile image also connotes the womb and pregnancy, suggesting Honey’s subconscious attempt or desire to return to the womb, perhaps to seek refuge in perpetual oblivion from the harshness of reality. As a result, she is enclosed in a bubble of illusions, forever stunted in growth as an infantile adult. This image, while disturbing, is Albee’s subtle warning of the repercussions of escaping reality.
Albee develops this idea about illusions encumbering emotional development through George’s story about the boy who drank bergin and killed his parents in the following extract:
GEORGE [After a sympathetic pause]: The saddest thing about men. . . . Well, no, one of the saddest things about men is the way they age . . . some of them. Do you know what it is with insane people? Do you? ... the quiet ones? NICK: No. GEORGE: They don't change . . . they don't grow old. NICK: They must. GEORGE: Well, eventually, probably, yes. But they don't ... in the usual sense. They maintain a ... a firm-skinned serenity ... the ... the under-use of everything leaves them . . . quite whole. Act II, Page 52 (Vintage)
George’s dialogues may seem cryptic at first, but his comments are remarkably perceptive. Here, the boy in the story who spirals into manic laughter after the devastating incident is referred to as one of the “insane people” who “don’t grow old”. While his morbid laughter is an escapist coping mechanism, his stagnation in ageing that ensues suggests a form of emotional stasis - a cessation of spiritual/personal growth that follows an overindulgence in illusions. The imagery of “firmed-skinned serenity” is hence ironic, as the appearance of “serenity” is only conferred by the illusion of perfection, and brought about by the suppression of emotional turmoil lurking beneath the surface. In the end, there is no reconciliation with his underlying issues nor reality. Altogether, Albee presents his claim that neglecting reality is detrimental to spiritual and emotional evolution.
Illusion and Reality: What's the difference?
Beyond the perils of denying reality its authority over our lives, Albee also portrays the murky intersections between illusions and reality, and thus the difficulties in identifying and divorcing ourselves from the illusions that govern our lives. This quandary is crystallised in the myth of the son created by Martha and George: although it is an illusion, it nevertheless shapes the course of their lives in reality. This is evident in the extract below:
MARTHA: And as he grew . . . and as he grew ... oh! so wise! . . . he walked evenly between us . . . [She spreads her hands.] ... a hand out to each of us for what we could offer by way of support, affection, teaching, even love . . .” Act III, Page 118 (Vintage)
In “he walked evenly between us”, the use of the preposition “between'' signifies how the son serves as the binding tissue between George and Martha’s differences, conjuring the impression of a bridge that joins both characters in their unifying ownership of a co-authored illusion, but also inevitably separates them from true communion in actuality. Despite merely being a figment of imagination created by the couple to mend their marriage, the son still engenders a palpable impact on their relationship, connecting and distancing them simultaneously in paradoxical fashion. In a way, the son seems to embody a tangible, physical existence as it slowly but surely occupies an increasingly dominant part of the couple’s marriage. Ultimately, reality and illusion become indistinguishable as George and Martha predicate their lives on the fantasy - to withdraw from it thereafter will be an agonising feat.
Illusions are pleasurable, but only honesty is real.
Ultimately, Albee necessitates the expulsion of illusion in order to achieve authenticity in life. This idea is embodied by the destruction of the son myth in Act III that finally frees Martha and George from the shackles of illusion, granting them the chance to repair the fractures in their marriage. The excerpts below detail the aftermath of the son’s “exorcism”, where the couple resolves their differences:
(A) [NICK and HONEY exit; GEORGE closes the door after them; looks around the room; sighs, picks up a glass or two, takes it to the bar. This whole last section very softly, very slowly.] Act III, Page 127 (Vintage)
B) GEORGE: Are you alright? MARTHA: Yes. No. GEORGE [Puts his hand gently on her shoulder; she puts her head back and he sings to her, very softly]: Who's afraid of Virginia Woolf, Virginia Woolf, Virginia Woolf, MARTHA: I . . . am . . . George. . . . GEORGE: Who's afraid of Virginia Woolf. . . . MARTHA: I . . . am . . . George. . . . I . . . am. . . . [GEORGE nods, slowly] [Silence; tableau] Act III, Page 128 (Vintage)
In (A), the stage direction of George “pick[ing] up a glass or two, tak[ing] it to the bar” is especially significant considering that the characters have indulged in alcohol throughout the liquor-fuelled night as a form of sedative - to keep themselves entertained by the illusory delirium that drinking provides. George's act of returning the glasses and thus abandoning alcohol is hence symbolic of his conscious decision to close the night of illusions after purging the son myth, and to finally reconcile with reality. Furthermore, the language used by George and Martha post-exorcism is drastically simplified, the slow, monosyllabic speech “yes”, “no” and “I am”, is a clear departure in tone and rapid pace from their previous ostentations, verbosity and verbal duelling. The shift in language style coheres with their shift in mindsets: George and Martha have abandoned rhetoric along with illusion, and provides the audience with the auditory confirmation that their relationship has returned to an uncomplicated state. Furthermore, the stage directions that establish a physical contact between the couple, as seen in how George “[puts his hand gently on her shoulder; she puts her head back and he sings to her, very softly]” in (B) suggests a casual intimacy that was never present before, signalling the start of their newfound communion. At last, it is through the expulsion of the son myth that the couple’s marriage is restored. While it is an emotionally scarring process, it is ultimately a form of painful catharsis that begets spiritual regeneration.
Conclusion
While Albee demonstrates the allure of turning to illusions and the ease with which humanity caves into illusions and unreality, Albee's dramatic practice also suggests that it is only through expunging our illusions, be it personal, social and/or national, that humanity may improve and construct a real future. Perhaps this begins with challenging our long-standing mythologies about ourselves and others, such as the American dream, or meritocracy, and recognise that they are merely self-deluding shams. It is only in abandoning our collective bad faith in clinging onto these illusions that we can redefine these myths, and recognise and attain what is truly missing in the pursuits of our idealised selves. The tableau that concludes the play then, not only arrests a moment of honesty in the particular time and space in the audience's viewing of the play, but extends the audience an invitation to envisage a future without personal and cultural illusions.
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