The Iceman Cometh What Makes You Insane
What keeps you alive? In addition to air, water, and food, people require something to motivate them, to keep them going. These motivations are oftentimes dreams which others consider to be unrealistic or even impossible. So what are we to think of people whose very existences are predicated on their own delusions? By definition, a person who cannot separate their own delusions from reality is considered to be insane. By this measure, it is possible to be a person whose entire existence is predicated on their own insanity. In Edward O’Neill’s classic play, The Iceman Cometh, he creates a motley crew of such characters, whose misapprehensions are the only things that keep them going. Many of these characters have dreams which they will accomplish
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in a tomorrow which never comes. It would seem as this cast of misfit alcoholics would be hard to relate to for the average American theatergoer in the 1940’s, but Iceman is now considered to be an integral part of the American theater. What is it about this tale involving an assemblage of the insane that seems to resonate with Americans? The answer is that despite the situations in the play being foreign to most, the dreams of the bar’s patrons make people question their own dreams, and thus, their own sanity. In The Iceman Cometh, Eugene O’Neill makes the audience question their own sanity by making them empathize with Hickey, the apparent “straight man,” who is then gradually revealed to cling to his own pipe dream. By the end of the play, the charismatic Hickey who appealed to the audience is dead. It is through this bait-and-switch that O’Neill delivers his message to the audience; that no one’s sanity or understanding, not even one’s own, can be assumed. In order to set up the arrival of his seeming relatable messiah figure, O’Neill uses most of Act I to introduce us to a group of people who clearly need saving. These people use a combination of alcohol and mental gymnastics to evade reality. The condition of the bar patrons is summed up perfectly in the second line of the play by the pitying Larry, who remarks, “I'll be glad to pay up--tomorrow. And I know my fellow inmates will promise the same. They've all a touching credulity concerning tomorrows… It'll be a great day for them, tomorrow--the Feast of All Fools, with brass bands playing! Their ships will come in, loaded to the gunwales with cancelled regrets and promises fulfilled and clean slates and new leases!” (O’Neill, Act I). Larry views the “inmates” of the bar as foolish people who are yearning for a tomorrow which will never come. Much of the rest of the first act demonstrates what Larry alluded to here; the bar patrons hold on to “pipe dreams” which will never come true and simply serve as delusions to keep their spirits alive. As O’Neill introduces the different patrons and their pipe dreams, the delicate and co-dependent nature of these peoples’ psyches leaves the audience craving something which will destroy the illusion. In parallel, the patrons anxiously await the arrival of their friend, Hickey, who comes by twice a year to drink with them. While the patrons think of him as another one of their deluded selves, right before he enters the bar, we get a taste for what he might bring to the story. Cora tells everyone on behalf of Hickey, “Tell de gang I'll be along in a minute. I'm just finishin' figurin' out de best way to save dem and bring dem peace” (Act I). This gives the audience hope for what they’ve been waiting for, a figure who will shatter the patrons’ ridiculous pipe dreams. Towards the end of Act I, the Iceman finally Cometh with the arrival of Hickey. A charismatic salesman, Hickey sells himself not only to the bar patrons but to the audience as well. The first thing that separates him from the rest of the patrons, endearing him to the audience, is the fact that he no longer drinks: “I have changed. I mean, about booze. I don't need it any more. (They all stare, hoping it's a gag, but impressed and disappointed and made vaguely uneasy by the change they now sense in him)” (Act I). As the stage direction shows, Hickey’s entrance is met with a sense of incredulity from the patrons, and in a way the world their little world has already begun to shatter. This is further supported when he asks them, “What's the matter, everybody? What is this, a funeral? Come on and drink up!” (Act I). This foreshadowing shows that with the arrival of Hickey, the patrons might finally have to accept the deaths of their pipe dreams. This leaves the audience hopeful, thinking that this play will be about how Hickey’s charisma and sobriety will enable him to help his friends finally see reality. This gives the audience a sort of pipe dream—that the world is a place where reality is clearly defined and that these delusional people can be lifted from their madness.
In the second and third acts, O’Neill begins to break the audience’s pipe dream, gradually showing them that Hickey is not who they think, and that the patrons’ pipe dreams are not so easily relinquished. One character who correctly assesses Hickey from the beginning is Larry. Shortly after Hickey arrives, Larry says to himself, “It's nothing to me what happened to him. But I have a feeling he's dying to tell us, inside him, and yet he's afraid. He's like that damned kid. It's strange the queer way he seemed to recognize him. If he's afraid, it explains why he's off booze. Like that damned kid again” (Act II). From the audience’s perspective at this point, Larry is a deeply cynical person who is simply dismissing Hickey so that he can keep hold of his own pipe dream. Hickey quickly quells any doubts the audience may have. He tells Larry, “You’re not so good when you start playing Sherlock Holmes. You've got me all wrong. I'm not afraid of anything now--not even myself. You better stick to the part of Old Cemetery, the Barker for the Big Sleep--that is, if you can still let yourself get away with it!” (Act II). The irony here is that when Hickey says that Larry’s “got him all wrong,” it is in fact the audience and the patrons who have him all wrong.
The audience’s pipe dream is finally shattered in Act IV, when Hickey’s fragile psyche is suddenly exposed. We finally see Hickey’s motivation at the beginning of his giant monologue where he describes what really happened between himself and Evelyn. “I've got to tell you! Your being the way you are now gets my goat! It's all wrong! It puts things in my mind--about myself. It makes me think, if I got balled up about you, how do I know I wasn't balled up about myself? And that's plain damned foolishness” (Act IV). How ironic! Hickey wants to help the patrons deal with their pipe dreams because he can’t cope with his guilt over his actions. With this monologue and his subsequent arrest, the audience’s illusion of Hickey as a messiah is shattered.
As he is being arrested, O’Neill taunts the audience one more time.
Hickey tells Moran, “Oh, I want to go, Officer. I can hardly wait now. I should have phoned you from the house right afterwards. It was a waste of time coming here. I've got to explain to Evelyn. But I know she's forgiven me. She knows I was insane. You've got me all wrong, Officer” (Act IV). Once again, Hickey asserts that we’ve “got him all wrong,” which is exactly what O’Neill intended. After his arrest, most of the patrons pick up right where they left off with their pipe dreams. One of the most insightful assessments ironically comes from Hugo, who does not give many coherent thoughts throughout the play. Hugo says to Parritt, who has decided to kill himself, “Stupid fool! Hickey make you crazy, too… I'm glad, Larry, they take that crazy Hickey avay to asylum. He makes me have bad dreams. He makes me tell lies about myself. He makes me want to spit on all I have ever dreamed. Yes, I am glad they take him to asylum. I don't feel I am dying now. He vas selling death to me, that crazy salesman” (Act IV). This is ultimately why Hickey failed to eviscerate the patrons’ pipe dreams, because their dreams are who they are. Relinquishing these dreams, no matter how farfetched they are, would be akin to
death.
By building up to Hickey’s arrival and then slowly revealing his true character, O’Neill causes the audience to undergo their own confusion, demonstrating how no one’s sanity, not even one’s own, can be taken for granted. This interpretation of the play can help to explain why performances are four hours long when the same story could surely be told in one or two hours. It makes sense when you look at the play through the eyes of O’Neill, who wanted his audience to become emotionally invested in the characters. If the audience is fully immersed into the world that of the plays, the introduction of Hickey and his unraveling can lead the audience to feel betrayed by O’Neill’s bait-and-switch. This emotional reaction can lead audiences to wonder about how the insanity in the play might be reflective of the world they live in. By making audiences question their own realities and dreams, The Iceman Cometh guarantees itself a permanent spot on the pedestal of the great works of American theater.
in a tomorrow which never comes. It would seem as this cast of misfit alcoholics would be hard to relate to for the average American theatergoer in the 1940’s, but Iceman is now considered to be an integral part of the American theater. What is it about this tale involving an assemblage of the insane that seems to resonate with Americans? The answer is that despite the situations in the play being foreign to most, the dreams of the bar’s patrons make people question their own dreams, and thus, their own sanity. In The Iceman Cometh, Eugene O’Neill makes the audience question their own sanity by making them empathize with Hickey, the apparent “straight man,” who is then gradually revealed to cling to his own pipe dream. By the end of the play, the charismatic Hickey who appealed to the audience is dead. It is through this bait-and-switch that O’Neill delivers his message to the audience; that no one’s sanity or understanding, not even one’s own, can be assumed. In order to set up the arrival of his seeming relatable messiah figure, O’Neill uses most of Act I to introduce us to a group of people who clearly need saving. These people use a combination of alcohol and mental gymnastics to evade reality. The condition of the bar patrons is summed up perfectly in the second line of the play by the pitying Larry, who remarks, “I'll be glad to pay up--tomorrow. And I know my fellow inmates will promise the same. They've all a touching credulity concerning tomorrows… It'll be a great day for them, tomorrow--the Feast of All Fools, with brass bands playing! Their ships will come in, loaded to the gunwales with cancelled regrets and promises fulfilled and clean slates and new leases!” (O’Neill, Act I). Larry views the “inmates” of the bar as foolish people who are yearning for a tomorrow which will never come. Much of the rest of the first act demonstrates what Larry alluded to here; the bar patrons hold on to “pipe dreams” which will never come true and simply serve as delusions to keep their spirits alive. As O’Neill introduces the different patrons and their pipe dreams, the delicate and co-dependent nature of these peoples’ psyches leaves the audience craving something which will destroy the illusion. In parallel, the patrons anxiously await the arrival of their friend, Hickey, who comes by twice a year to drink with them. While the patrons think of him as another one of their deluded selves, right before he enters the bar, we get a taste for what he might bring to the story. Cora tells everyone on behalf of Hickey, “Tell de gang I'll be along in a minute. I'm just finishin' figurin' out de best way to save dem and bring dem peace” (Act I). This gives the audience hope for what they’ve been waiting for, a figure who will shatter the patrons’ ridiculous pipe dreams. Towards the end of Act I, the Iceman finally Cometh with the arrival of Hickey. A charismatic salesman, Hickey sells himself not only to the bar patrons but to the audience as well. The first thing that separates him from the rest of the patrons, endearing him to the audience, is the fact that he no longer drinks: “I have changed. I mean, about booze. I don't need it any more. (They all stare, hoping it's a gag, but impressed and disappointed and made vaguely uneasy by the change they now sense in him)” (Act I). As the stage direction shows, Hickey’s entrance is met with a sense of incredulity from the patrons, and in a way the world their little world has already begun to shatter. This is further supported when he asks them, “What's the matter, everybody? What is this, a funeral? Come on and drink up!” (Act I). This foreshadowing shows that with the arrival of Hickey, the patrons might finally have to accept the deaths of their pipe dreams. This leaves the audience hopeful, thinking that this play will be about how Hickey’s charisma and sobriety will enable him to help his friends finally see reality. This gives the audience a sort of pipe dream—that the world is a place where reality is clearly defined and that these delusional people can be lifted from their madness.
In the second and third acts, O’Neill begins to break the audience’s pipe dream, gradually showing them that Hickey is not who they think, and that the patrons’ pipe dreams are not so easily relinquished. One character who correctly assesses Hickey from the beginning is Larry. Shortly after Hickey arrives, Larry says to himself, “It's nothing to me what happened to him. But I have a feeling he's dying to tell us, inside him, and yet he's afraid. He's like that damned kid. It's strange the queer way he seemed to recognize him. If he's afraid, it explains why he's off booze. Like that damned kid again” (Act II). From the audience’s perspective at this point, Larry is a deeply cynical person who is simply dismissing Hickey so that he can keep hold of his own pipe dream. Hickey quickly quells any doubts the audience may have. He tells Larry, “You’re not so good when you start playing Sherlock Holmes. You've got me all wrong. I'm not afraid of anything now--not even myself. You better stick to the part of Old Cemetery, the Barker for the Big Sleep--that is, if you can still let yourself get away with it!” (Act II). The irony here is that when Hickey says that Larry’s “got him all wrong,” it is in fact the audience and the patrons who have him all wrong.
The audience’s pipe dream is finally shattered in Act IV, when Hickey’s fragile psyche is suddenly exposed. We finally see Hickey’s motivation at the beginning of his giant monologue where he describes what really happened between himself and Evelyn. “I've got to tell you! Your being the way you are now gets my goat! It's all wrong! It puts things in my mind--about myself. It makes me think, if I got balled up about you, how do I know I wasn't balled up about myself? And that's plain damned foolishness” (Act IV). How ironic! Hickey wants to help the patrons deal with their pipe dreams because he can’t cope with his guilt over his actions. With this monologue and his subsequent arrest, the audience’s illusion of Hickey as a messiah is shattered.
As he is being arrested, O’Neill taunts the audience one more time.
Hickey tells Moran, “Oh, I want to go, Officer. I can hardly wait now. I should have phoned you from the house right afterwards. It was a waste of time coming here. I've got to explain to Evelyn. But I know she's forgiven me. She knows I was insane. You've got me all wrong, Officer” (Act IV). Once again, Hickey asserts that we’ve “got him all wrong,” which is exactly what O’Neill intended. After his arrest, most of the patrons pick up right where they left off with their pipe dreams. One of the most insightful assessments ironically comes from Hugo, who does not give many coherent thoughts throughout the play. Hugo says to Parritt, who has decided to kill himself, “Stupid fool! Hickey make you crazy, too… I'm glad, Larry, they take that crazy Hickey avay to asylum. He makes me have bad dreams. He makes me tell lies about myself. He makes me want to spit on all I have ever dreamed. Yes, I am glad they take him to asylum. I don't feel I am dying now. He vas selling death to me, that crazy salesman” (Act IV). This is ultimately why Hickey failed to eviscerate the patrons’ pipe dreams, because their dreams are who they are. Relinquishing these dreams, no matter how farfetched they are, would be akin to
death.
By building up to Hickey’s arrival and then slowly revealing his true character, O’Neill causes the audience to undergo their own confusion, demonstrating how no one’s sanity, not even one’s own, can be taken for granted. This interpretation of the play can help to explain why performances are four hours long when the same story could surely be told in one or two hours. It makes sense when you look at the play through the eyes of O’Neill, who wanted his audience to become emotionally invested in the characters. If the audience is fully immersed into the world that of the plays, the introduction of Hickey and his unraveling can lead the audience to feel betrayed by O’Neill’s bait-and-switch. This emotional reaction can lead audiences to wonder about how the insanity in the play might be reflective of the world they live in. By making audiences question their own realities and dreams, The Iceman Cometh guarantees itself a permanent spot on the pedestal of the great works of American theater.