Introduction
Although the concept of melancholia refers to a debilitating, pathological
condition, it is also associated with artistic creativity and philosophical
insight. There is a twofold relationship between melancholia and art:
on the one hand, melancholia is a source of artistic creativity, and on
the other hand, works of art may have a therapeutic function in overcoming
melancholia, both for the artist and the observer. In Black Sun,
Julia Kristeva examines the way in which artistic and literary creations
are able to provide a sublimatory means of moving beyond melancholia.1
She argues that, in the twentieth century, there is a crisis of representation
and signification. Faced with the monstrosity of this century's destructive
forces, our symbolic means have become hollowed out and paralysed such
that we are compelled to be silent (Black Sun 223). Kristeva asks whether it
is possible for art to acknowledge the weight of contemporary suffering
in a way that provides a sublimatory solution to our crises.
In her examination of the postwar literature of Marguerite Duras, Kristeva
concludes that Duras' novels evoke an "impossible mourning"
that infects their readers. She argues that Duras' writing lacks catharsis:
there is no resolution, no promise of a beyond, no forgiveness, no redemption
(Black Sun 228). Duras' novels exemplify the contemporary crisis of representation
and signification because they are unable to address suffering except
by silence, leading to a "blankness of meaning." By contrast,
Kristeva points to the work of Samuel Beckett as an example of how art
can address the contemporary crises in a way that curbs melancholia. She
writes:
Duras does not orchestrate [the "nothing"] in the fashion
of Mallarmé, who sought for the music in words, nor in the
manner of Beckett who refines a syntax that marks time or moves
ahead by fits and starts, warding off the narrative's flight forward.
The reverberation among characters as well as the silence inscribed
as such, the emphasis on the "nothing" to be spoken as
ultimate expression of suffering, leads Duras to a blankness of
meaning. Coupled with rhetorical awkwardness, they make up a world
of unsettling, infectious ill-being (Black Sun 258). [Emphasis added]
While Kristeva does not discuss Beckett beyond this reference, I will
consider whether Endgamea play that embodies the postwar human
dilemmaaddresses the contemporary crises without leading to a "blankness
of meaning" or "evoking an impossible mourning." Does
Endgame
provide a sublimatory solution? Or does it infect the audience with its
despair? Is this something that we can determine through Kristeva's analysis?
I argue that while Endgame can be interpreted as a play that stages
melancholia and has a melancholic character, it can be distinguished from
Kristevas analysis of the Duras melancholic art in a few important
respects. Although these differences suggest that Endgame may provide
a sublimatory solution, whether the play spreads or curbs melancholia,
whether it evokes an "impossible mourning" or a "defeated
depression," is not something that can be determined by an analysis
of the play alone, since both possibilities are left open. This can only
be determined by the experience of the reader or spectator.
Since the absence of meaning is fundamental to Kristeva's conception of
melancholia, I will first consider the well-noted difficulty of deriving
a stable interpretation of Endgame. By drawing upon Theodor W.
Adorno's and Simon Critchley's writings on Beckett, I argue that despite
the destabilization of meaning in Endgame, the play does not lead
to a "blankness of meaning"; rather, the play questions and
debates meaning. It is the indeterminacy of meaning in Endgame
that leads to the impossibility of assessing whether or not the play evokes
impossible mourning, based on the text alone.
After considering the staging of the melancholic condition in Endgame,
I conclude that while the play suggests certain "counterdepressants"
that may be used to overcome melancholiasuch as storytelling and art
in the end, the characters do not seem to make any progress beyond their
melancholic condition. At a thematic level, Endgame is similar
to Duras' novels in that it provides no catharsis, no resolution, no promise
of a beyond, no redemption. However, I argue that it is problematic to
analyze the ability of Endgame to address the contemporary crisis
in meaning based on its lack of catharsis and resolution since Beckett's
works can be more aptly characterized as anti-cathartic and anti-redemptive.
Despite the absence of resolution in Endgame, the play differs
from Kristeva's analysis of Duras' novels because the play does not respond
to suffering with silence. Even though the characters desire silence,
they can't stop talking, and they can't stop telling stories.
Kristeva's analysis of sublimatory art in Black Sun is not limited
to art that is cathartic in its thematic development. She also argues
that literary works can overcome melancholia at a semiotic level, by means
of melody, tone, rhythm, gesture, semantic polyvalency, and prosody. In
Kristeva's brief reference to Beckett in the above passage, she suggests
that his works are able to curb melancholia through the semioticthrough
the narrative's broken and retarded movement. Such an analysis is more
appropriate with respect to Beckett's work since for him, form is as important
as content; or rather, "form is content and content is form."2
Unfortunately, the effect of the semiotic on the ability of the text to spread or curb
melancholia is indeterminate, as will be discussed in the last section of this essay with respect to
Beckett's use of pause and laughter.
Mourning and Melancholia in Psychoanalytic Theory
For Freud, mourning and melancholia are responses to the loss of a libidinal
object. In mourning, the resentment and aggression against the lost object
is projected onto other objects. In melancholia (a pathological state
of "impossible mourning"), one turns these feelings against
oneself, not being conscious of what one has lost.3
Freud identifies certain mental features which are common to both: profound
painful dejection, loss of interest in the world, perception of the world
as poor and empty, loss of the capacity to love any new object, and inhibition
of activity.4 In the normal process
of mourning, the ego, aware that the object no longer exists, gradually
severs its attachment to the object in order to not share its fate.5
In melancholia, the libido withdraws into the ego, replacing an object-cathexis
with an identification of the ego with the abandoned object; the ego wants
to incorporate the object into itself.6
Hence, there is a "cleavage" or division in the ego whereby
the aggression towards the lost object is directed against itself, resulting
in the diminution in self-regard, self-reproaches, and an impoverishment
of the ego. This conflict within the ego acts like a painful open "wound"
and empties the ego until it is totally impoverished.7
Whereas Freud argues that melancholia arises from the dissolution of an
object relation, Kristeva conceives of melancholia in terms of the inability
to establish object relations.8 Melancholia still
concerns
a loss, but it is a loss more fundamental than the loss of an object.
She traces melancholia back to the originary libidinal woundthe loss
of the 'Thing": "the real that does not lend itself to signification,
the centre of attraction and repulsion" (Black Sun 13). The "Thing"
is a vague, indeterminate something, a light without representation
a black sun. While she largely agrees with the mental features or symptoms
of melancholia identified by Freudinhibition, decrease in psychomotor
activity, slowing down of thinking, asymbolia, withdrawal to the point
of inaction (pretending to be dead) or suicide (Black Sun 9-10)she does not
see these as rooted in a displaced aggression for an object onto one's
own ego. Instead, she attributes the melancholic's sadness to "the
most archaic expression of a non-symbolizable, unnameable narcissistic
wound" (Black Sun 12). The melancholic only has the impression of having
been deprived of an unnameable, unrepresentable good; she is unable to
signify it. Kristeva describes melancholia as "an abyssal suffering
that does not succeed in signifying itself and, having lost meaning, loses
life" (Black Sun 189). For the melancholic, signs do not have the force
of replacing the loss or of expressing the pain of the loss.
A way to curb melancholia is by naming suffering, elaborating it, dissecting
it into its smallest components (Black Sun 97). This is the task of the psychoanalyst
to "elaborate" in the sense of helping the analysand become
aware of the inter- and intrapsychic causes of his or her suffering (Black Sun
24). Kristeva argues that literary and artistic creations may provide
a sublimatory solution. Artistic and literary creations provide a semiological
representation of the subject's battle with symbolic collapse in a manner
that is closer to catharsis than to elaboration (Black Sun 24). She identifies
three artistic devices that allow the artist and spectator to secure a
sublimatory hold over the lost Thing: (1) prosody, "the language
beyond language that inserts into the sign the rhythm and alliteration
of semiotic processes"; (2) the polyvalence of sign and symbol, "which
unsettles naming and, by building up a plurality of connotations around
the sign, affords the subject a chance to imagine the nonmeaning, or the
true meaning, of the Thing"; and (3) the aesthetics of forgiveness,
as found in her analysis of Dostoyevsky (Black Sun 97). She privileges poetic
language, regarding it as a model of "conquered depression"
(Black Sun 65). Through melody, rhythm, semantic polyvalency, and parody, the
poetic form, in decomposing and recomposing signs, is able to secure an
uncertain but adequate hold over the Thing (Black Sun 14). Based on her analysis
of the artists examined in Black Sun, Kristeva indicates that a
work of art is a defeated depression if it succeeds in putting
deaththe unrepresentable and unnameableinto signs, whereas a work
of art is melancholic if it prevents the use of signs.
Meaning in Beckett
Beckett's writing resists and frustrates all attempts made to decipher
its symbols or to provide a coherent, unified interpretation. In a letter
to director Alan Schneider in 1957, Beckett wrote:
My work is a matter of fundamental sounds (no joke intended) made
as fully as possible and I accept responsibility for nothing else.
If people want to have headaches among the overtones, let them.
And provide their own aspirin. Hamm as stated, and Clov as stated,
together stated nec tecum nec sine te [neither with you nor
without you], in such a place, and in such a world, that's all I
can manage, more than I could.9
This statement suggests that Beckett does not intend to signify or symbolize
anything beyond what is stated; a cigar is just a cigar. In his early
novel, Watt, he writes: "no symbols where none intended."10
And yet, it is difficult to take Beckett at his word here since his work
is full of symbols and signifiers (character names, phrases, objects)
that seem to be carefully crafted in such a way that they refer to certain
philosophical texts, historical events, or other literary works in a cryptic
manner. His statement also suggests that he, as a writer, is concerned
with the form rather than the content, with the sound and the rhythm of
words and phrases, rather than with communicating certain ideas or intending
any specific interpretation. This approach seems to leave the meaning
open. He states:
I take no sides. I am interested in the shape of ideas. There is
a wonderful sentence in Augustine: 'Do not despair; one of the thieves
was saved. Do not presume; one of the thieves was damned.' That
sentence has a wonderful shape. It is the shape that matters.11
If Beckett's writings only provide "fundamental sounds" which
"take no sides," then whether or not his works go beyond melancholia
may depend more on the reader or spectator, than on the texts themselves.
Many, including Beckett, have commented on the particular difficulty
of interpreting Endgame. Beckett described Endgame as "rather
difficult, elliptic, mostly depending on the power of the text to claw,
more inhuman than Godot."12
Despite this difficulty, many have tried to make sense of the play, resulting
in a proliferation of diverse interpretations. One of the more common
interpretations suggests that the play represents the last stage of a
game of chess in which Hamm is the King, Clov is the knight, and Nagg
and Nell are captured pawns. Who the enemy is, and whether the game ends
in checkmate or stalemate, is unclear.13
Other interpretations include: a bifurcated Cartesian man where Hamm is
the mind and Clov is the body; a writer's mind or study where Hamm is
the writer, Clov is a character created by him, and Nagg and Nell are
discarded characters thrown into the wastebasket; actors on stage playing
several roles; a shelter during some end-of-the-world crisis; a placeless
and timeless place, representing both a womb and a tomb.14
Since Hamm is the name of Noah's son, some have suggested that the shelter
is Noah's Ark, sometime after the flood.15
The play has even been interpreted as a metaphor for the Freudian mind
as presented in "The Ego and the Id."16
While each interpretation of Endgame is able to point to various aspects
of the text for support, there is much else in the text which cannot be
accounted for and which in fact undermines each particular interpretation.17
Critchley observes that Beckett's writings are particularly resistant
to philosophical interpretation. He writes:
The texts continually seem to pull the rug from under the feet of
the philosopher by showing themselves to be conscious of the possibility
of such interpretations
or, better still, such interpretations
seem to lag behind their object by saying too much: something essential
to Beckett's language is lost by overshooting the text and ascending
into the stratosphere of metalanguage.18
Since it seems both futile and contrary to Beckett's intentions to attempt
a philosophically mediated interpretation of his work, should we avoid
such an analysis of his work?19
Even if the task seems impossible, it does not mean that we should refrain
from interpretation. As Theodor W. Adorno argues in his aesthetic theory,
art needs philosophy to interpret it, to provide reflectionto say what
art cannot say.20
Whether or not the play's resistance to any stable, unified interpretation
leads to an absence of meaning is relevant to Kristeva's conception of
melancholic art. In her analysis of Duras, Kristeva argues that her writing
evokes impossible mourning because its emphasis on silence and on the
"nothing" to be spoken leads to an inhuman "blankness of
meaning" (Black Sun 257-8). Does the instability of meaning in Endgame
lead to a similar blankness of meaning? In "Trying to Understand
Endgame," Adorno argues that "[u]nderstanding it [Endgame]
can mean nothing other than understanding its incomprehensibility, or
concretely reconstructing its meaning structurethat it has none";
"[n]ot meaning anything becomes the only meaning."21
Opposed to those you might argue that Endgame is simply meaningless,
Adorno reads Endgame as a play that debates meaning, that addresses
and reconstructs the historical negation of meaning. He interprets Endgame
as a parody of philosophy, particularly Existentialist philosophy. He
argues that Endgame destroys the Existentialist illusion of the
free, unified, absolute subject that is able to create its own meaning
when faced with metaphysical meaninglessness; instead, the play recognizes
that with the historical disintegration of the subject's unity, there
is no longer any closed structure of meaning.22
This interpretation of Adorno's statements is reinforced in his Aesthetic
Theory where he writes:
"Beckett's oeuvre already presupposes this experience of the
destruction of meaning as self-evident, yet also pushes it beyond
meaning's abstract negation in that his plays force the traditional
categories of art to undergo this experience, concretely suspend
them, and extrapolate others out of the nothingness
Beckett's
plays are absurd not because of the absence of meaning, for then
they would be simply irrelevant, but because they put meaning on
trial; they unfold its history. His work is ruled as much by an
obsession with positive nothingness as by the obsession with a meaninglessness
that has developed historically and is thus in a sense merited,
though this meritedness in no way allows any positive meaning to
be reclaimed.23
Critchley adds that Endgame establishes "the meaning of
meaninglessness"
by performing the refusal of meaning and tracing the history of the dissolution
of meaning, without permitting either the restoration of meaning, or the
irrelevant metaphysical comfort of meaninglessness.24.
A problematic aspect of Adorno's analysis of Endgame is that while
he recognizes the difficulty of interpreting Endgame, in the end
he seems to provide a determinate, unifying interpretation. He himself
seems to have no difficulty uncovering "the" meaning of Endgame
as he reads the play into his own account of contemporary society.25
What makes Endgame enigmatic is that it suggests a multiplicity
of possible meanings, overall, and with respect to particular signifiers.
While the possible interpretations are limited by the context of the play
and Beckett's body of writing, Endgame resists being encapsulated
by a definitive, unifying interpretation. As a result, although in the
next section I examine the melancholic elements in Endgame and
consider its ability to either curb or spread melancholia according to
Kristeva's theory, I do not mean to suggest that Endgame is "about
melancholia" in any definitive sense.
The play's openness and undecidability further distinguishes Endgame
from the blankness of meaning that Kristeva observes in Duras' writing.
Beckett's use of multiple signifiers, as well as his concern with the
network of sounds and significances rather than with the communication
of ideas, creates a polyvalence of sign and symbol. With respect to Nerval's
prosodic polymorphism, Kristeva argues that creating an undecidable polyphony
with symbols provides an antidote to depression (Black Sun 170). By unsettling
the sign-referent relationship and by building a plurality of connotations
around the sign, this artistic device allows the subject to imagine the
meaning or nonmeaning of the Thing; it allows the subject to secure an
uncertain but adequate hold over the Thing (Black Sun 170). Hence, Endgame's
semantic polyvalency, may be a way to put the unrepresentable and the
unnameabledeath and sufferinginto signs.
Melancholia in Endgame
Kristeva's description of melancholia as a "living death" provides
a fitting description for Endgame. She describes the condition
as:
a devitalized existence that, although occasionally fired
by the effort I make to prolong it, is ready at any moment for a
plunge into death ... I live a living death, my flesh is wounded,
bleeding, cadaverized, my rhythm slowed down or interrupted, time
has been erased or bloated, absorbed into sorrow. (Black Sun 4)
In Endgame, there is a tension between a desire for the end, for
silence and stillness, and a desire to prolong the end by talkingby
repeating the same old jokes and stories, by repeating the same old questions
and answers. As Hamm says at the beginning of the play, "it's time
it ended and yet I hesitate to(he yawns)to end (Endgame 3)."
The very structure of the play has a "devitalized existence." Pauses interrupt
its rhythm throughout, there is little movement, and even then, it is
slowed down and prolonged.
In Endgame, the outside world is perceived as dead and empty, a
feature Freud attributes to both mourning and melancholia. Clov and Hamm
describe the world outside the "refuge" as dead, another hell,
nothing stirring, no sun, no light, no darknessjust gray. It is characterized
by nothingness and timelessnesstime is zero and everything is zero
(Endgame 30-32). Some have interpreted this to signify that the play takes place
after some end-of-the-world disaster. However, Hamm's description of the
mad painter suggests that these negative perceptions of the outside world
might be due to the projective identifications of a melancholic ego.26
Hamm states:
I once knew a madman who thought the end of the world had come.
He was a painterand engraver. I had a great fondness for him.
I used to go and see him, in the asylum. I'd take him by the hand
and drag him to the window. Look! There! All that rising corn! And
there! Look! The sails of the herring fleet! All that loveliness!
(Pause.) He'd snatch away his hand and go back into his corner.
Appalled. All he had seen was ashes. (Pause.) He alone had
been spared. (Pause.) Forgotten. (Pause.) It appears the
case is ... was not so ... so unusual. (Endgame 44)
The hesitant manner in which he indicates that this melancholic experience
is not so unusual suggests that he and Clov may be suffering from the
madman's psychosis. Similar to the madman's experience, when Clov looks
out the window, he sees nothing: "all is corpsed" (Endgame 32). In
this passage, Beckett also connects madness with artistic creativity.
We are told twice that the madman was "a painterand engraver,"
emphasizing the word "engraver" by putting a pause before it
both times.
The characters in Endgame appear to have suffered a loss that renders
their melancholic egos wounded, incomplete and empty. In his first speech,
Clov says, "I can't be punished any more" (Endgame 1). In Hamm's first
speech, he asks, "Can there be misery(he yawns)loftier
than mine" (Endgame 2). Both characters are introduced as sufferers. The
fact that the characters are wounded and incomplete is visually and externally
represented by their physical disabilities. Hamm is blind and cannot walk.
Clov can see and walk, but cannot sit. Nagg and Nell are legless, and
have lost some of their hearing and sight. The features and abilities
that one character lacks are reflected by the presence of that feature
or ability in the other characters.27
Even the toy dog is incomplete: it lacks a leg and "its sex."
While the characters have lost something they once had, the dog is unfinished
it lacks what it never had to begin with.
The characters appear on stage already wounded. The many references to
the fact that they are "almost finished" or "at the end"
indicates that the initial unnameable loss occurred long ago. As is the
case with melancholia, there is no clear causeit is an unconscious
loss. The audience is presented with what seems to be the last stages
of a deteriorating process. When Clov says that there is no more nature,
Hamm proves that there is by pointing not to nature's growth, but to its
decay: "We lose our hair, our teeth! Our bloom! Our ideals!"
(Endgame 11) The process is not named, but only pointed to as "this"
or "this thing" or "something." For example:
HAMM: Have you had enough?
CLOV: Yes! (Pause) Of what?
HAMM: Of this ... this ... thing. (Endgame 5, 45)
When Hamm asks, "What's happening?" Clov responds,
"Something
is taking its course" (Endgame 13, 32). Whatever they are referring to,
it is unnamed; and yet they seem to know what the other is referring to
by "this thing" or "something." Perhaps they do not
to need to name it, or perhaps they are incapable of naming it because
it is something unnameable and unrepresentable.
The loss of meaning associated with melancholia is present in Endgame
at various levels: whether their words have meaning, whether the characters
perceive their lives as having meaning, and whether the characters mean
something to each other. Just as readers, audience-members, critics and
scholars may become frustrated in their attempts to make sense of the
play and discover its meaning, the characters also are thwarted in their
half-hearted attempts to make a "meaningful connection" with
other characters, and even between their own thoughts.28
That the attempt is half-hearted is revealed in the following passage:
HAMM: We're not beginning to ... ... mean something?
CLOV: Mean something! You and I, mean something! (Brief laugh.)
Ah that's a good one!
HAMM: I wonder. (Pause.) Imagine if a rational being came
back to earth, wouldn't he be liable to get ideas into his head
if he observed us long enough. (Voice of rational being.)
Ah, good, now I see what it is, yes, now I understand what they're
at! (Clov starts, drops the telescope and begins to scratch his
belly with both hands. Normal voice.) And without going so far
as that, we ourselves ... (with emotion) ... we ourselves
... at certain moments ... (Vehemently.) To think perhaps
it won't all have been for nothing!
CLOV: (anguished, scratching himself): I have a flea. (Endgame
32-33)
While this passage indicates the desire for meaning, the possibility of
meaning is immediately belittled by Clov. Hamm's response suggests that
while at certain moments we all have a sense that our lives have meaning,
that our lives are meaningful, this is something we want and need to believe,
something we hope for"to think perhaps it won't all have been
for nothing." The passage also seems to tease the audience-members
and readers who are trying to "understand what they're at."
It seems to mock the theorist who thinks she is "rational" enough
to make sense of the play.
Endgame illustrates the inadequacy and arbitrariness of words as
it is experienced by the melancholic. Kristeva describes melancholic people
as witnesses and accomplices of the signifier's flimsiness (Black Sun 20). The
arbitrariness of words is made explicit by Clov's statement to Hamm: "I
use the words you taught me. If they don't mean anything any more, teach
me others. Or let me be silent" (Endgame 44). Towards the end of the play,
when Clov contemplates leaving but fears that he is too old to form new
habits, he says: "Then one day, suddenly, it ends, it changes, I
don't understand, it dies, or it's me, I don't understand that either.
I ask the words that remainsleeping, waking, morning, evening. They
have nothing to say" (Endgame 81). Throughout the play, Clov and Hamm repeat
each other's words and phrases to fill space. These passages reveal that
language has become an alien skin for them, foreign and detached from
their drive base. They illustrate the "dead language" of a melancholic,
as set out by Kristeva (Black Sun 53).
The characters' inability to form a meaningful connection with each other
demonstrates another symptom of the melancholic condition. This inability
is depicted visually by the fact that the characters do not touch each
other. Nagg and Nell want to touch and kiss each other but they are physically
prevented from doing so by their infirmities and their bins. Hamm and
Clov are physically capable of touching each other, but when Hamm asks
Clov to kiss him and hold his hand, Clov refuses. The only affectionate
touch is given to the unfinished, three-legged, castrated toy dog. Hamm
feels it and fondles it at first (Endgame 40), then he wants the dog to look
up at him as if it were begging or imploring him for a bone (Endgame 41), and
towards the end of the play, he throws the dog on the ground (Endgame 84).
The characters have an ambivalent love-hate relationship. While Clov and
Hamm need each other, they are adversarial. Hamm seems to enjoy making
Clov suffer. Clov usually obeys, but defiantly. The relationship between
Hamm and his father is also ambivalent. To some degree they need each
other. Nagg needs Hamm for nourishment and Hamm needs Nagg to listen to
his stories. Hamm calls Nagg "accursed progenitor," "accursed
fornicator" and "Scoundrel! Why did you engender me?" indicating
a hatred of the father for having been born. This aggression and resentment
is directed at the father, not the mother. Nagg curses that one day Hamm
will be alone, frightened in the dark, and will call to Nagg as his only
hope. The curse recalls the neglect Hamm experienced as a child. As Nagg
recalls:
Whom did you call when you were a tiny boy, and were frightened,
in the dark? Your mother? No. Me. We let you cry. Then we moved
you out of earshot, so that we might sleep in peace ... you didn't
really need to have me listen to you. (Pause) I hope the day will
come when you'll really need to have me listen to you, and need
to hear my voice, any voice." (Endgame 56)
Just as Hamm did not call out for his mother when he was a child, he does
not interact with Nell in the play, nor does she interact with him. Nell
seems to be his mother but this is only suggested through her relationship
with Nagg. Nell is not named "mother" by Hamm. Hamm's only interaction
with Nell is through Clov. He orders Clov to bottle Nagg and Nell, and
screw down the lids (Endgame 24). Hamm entombs his parents while they are still
alive.
Hamm does not consider a burial for Nell when she dies, despite Hamm's
concern for proper burial elsewhere (he expresses disappointment at Clov
for not giving Mother Pegg a burial, and he requests that Clov bury him).
Hamm shows no signs of grief for Nell's death; he only acknowledges it
by raising his toque. Instead, he makes light of Nagg's grief. When Nagg
cries for a while and then sucks on a biscuit, Hamm comments that "the
dead go fast" and that "life goes on" (Endgame 66-67). Hamm states:
Me to play. (He takes out his handkerchief, unfolds it, holds it
spread out before him)
We're getting on. (Pause)
You weep, and weep, for nothing, so as not to laugh, and little
by little...you begin to grieve. (Endgame 68)
Beckett associates mourning with playing and laughing.29
The relationship between tears and laughter is a theme found in Beckett's
other works as well. For example, in Waiting for Godot, Pozzo states:
"The tears of the world are a constant quantity. For each one who
begins to weep somewhere else another stops. The same is true of the laugh."
30
The role of playing, acting and imaginary games in Endgame can
be understood in terms of Freud's analysis of the "fort/da"
game. In the "fort/da" game, the child enacts a distressing
or overpowering experience in order to obtain mastery over it, to move
from the passivity of the experience to the activity of the game.31
As Kristeva explains, the child deals with the loss experienced in being
separated from the mother through the imagination and then through language
(Black Sun 6). Towards the end of Endgame, Hamm states: "Then babble,
babble, words, like the solitary child who turns himself into children,
two, three, so as to be together, and whisper together in the dark"
(Endgame 70). Hamm's game is more desperate and destructive than the
"fort/da"
game because it displays a reduplication of the selfa splitting of
the self. While the "fort/da" game enacts the loss in order
to overcome it, the reduplication game fills the space of the loss.32
Endgame does however present one activity that may be used to master
or minimize the pain of loss and abandonmentstorytelling. Simon Bennet
remarks:
What is both most deeply yearned for and most deeply dreadedlove
and tendernessis represented in storytelling, but represented
at a safe distance and overlaid with enough cynicism, indifference,
and nastiness to be almost completely disguised.33
The central story in Endgame is so cynical that it is indeed difficult
to find disguised within it anything that could be yearned for. Hamm's
story is about a father who comes begging for food for his starving son.
The narrator, who Hamm seems to identify with, does not feel pity or compassion
for them, but rather enjoys seeing the father beg. Similarly, Hamm enjoys
pretending that the toy dog is begging him for a bone. The story may be
representing Hamm's need to be needed by others, as well as his fear of
being abandoned when he is no longer needed. If we interpret this story
in light of Hamm's neglect as a child, it may also reveal Hamm's yearning
for a father who would beg for food to nourish his child.
The attempt to have mastery over one's loss through storytelling is also
exemplified when Hamm imagines what the end would be like:
It will be the end and there I'll be, wondering what can have brought
it on and wondering what can have ... (he hesitates) ... why it
was so long coming. (Pause.) There I'll be, in the old shelter,
alone against the silence and ... (he hesitates) ... the stillness.
If I could hold my peace, and sit quiet, it will be all over with
sound, and motion, all over and done with. (Endgame 69
Even when he imagines the end, it is not the end. He goes on thinking.
The only way there will be silence and stillness is if he sits quietly.
And yet, he does not imagine himself sitting quietly. Instead, he imagines
himself calling out three times for his father and his son (Endgame 69). As
Hamm states later on: "You cried for night; it falls: now cry in
darkness" (Endgame 83). He can't sit quietly and he can't stop himself
from crying out. He can't be silent.
Despite the desire for the end and for silence in Endgame, the
previous passage suggests the impossibility of silence. The passage illustrates
that we have to continue to talk and tell stories to people the
emptiness of death, even though this is a deceptiona necessary deception,
according to Critchley.34
Contrary to commentators who argue that silence is the goal of Beckett's
work, Adorno and Critchley rightly argue that for Beckett, writing is
the necessary desecration of silence.35
When faced with the absence of meaning, the voice continues, and the stories
continue. Critchley identifies this aspect of Beckett's work as a double
bind between the inability to speak and the inability to be silent, between
the impossibility of representing the unrepresentabledeathand the
necessity of its representation and narration.36
Based on this reading of Beckett's work, Endgame seems to put death
the unrepresentable and the unnameableinto signs. Unlike Kristeva's
interpretation of Duras, Endgame does not encounter suffering and
death with silence. And yet, neither does it move beyond the encounter
with some form of reconciliation or resolution.
Near the end of the play, Hamm says that the story has ended: "Moments
for nothing, now as always, time was never, and time is over, reckoning
closed and story ended" (Endgame 83). However, the story does not come
to an end in our mindsthe audience is left wondering what happened
to the boy or his father. Several possible interpretations are suggested:
Is the story made up, as Hamm suggests? If not, which character is Hamm?
Was Clov the boy? Or was he the father? Was Hamm the boy? Or was he the
father? Will Clov take Hamm's place as Hamm predicted and will the boy
Clov saw outside take Clov's place? Since the latter possibility is kept
open, combined with the fact that Clov is left standing motionless on
stage (as predicted by Hamm), Endgame comes to an interminable
end; its ending suggests a re-beginning. As Hamm states, "The end
is in the beginning and yet you go on" (Endgame 69).
The absence of a clear resolution and the indication that the process
will begin again and go on and on, has lead scholars and critics to conclude
that the play lacks catharsis. Hersh Zeifman describes the play as an
endless cycle of torture that ensnares the audience and creates an unbearable
tension.37 Scholars
often compare the circular torture of Endgame against Beckett's
later plays, where there is a sense of resolution, even if the meaning
of the resolution is still left open and ambiguous by Beckett.38
Phil Baker argues that Krapp's Last Tape and Rockaby move
from melancholia to mourning, unlike the interminable. Endgame39
While there is an attempt made to name suffering in Endgame, to
put deaththe unnameable and the unrepresentableinto signs, there
is much in the play that evokes an impossible mourning. While the use
of storytelling may be regarded as an attempt to identify and master one's
loss, it does not seem to succeed in Endgame. The things that might
provide a means for Hamm or Clov to overcome their melancholia are left
unfinished. For example, Hamm's story remains unfinished. Nell and Mother
Pegg, the maternal figures, are not buried. Even the therapeutic effect
of art is suggested and then rejected. Towards the end of the play, immediately
after Clov tells Hamm that there are no more painkillers, Clov takes down
the picture hanging on the wall (thereby suggesting a link between the
picture and painkillers), places it on the floor facing the wall, and
hangs in its place the alarm clock to signify that he has left (Endgame 71-72).
Art does not seem to be able to provide a cure.
Sublimation without Catharsis
Although Endgame is non-cathartic at a thematic level, can it be
distinguished from Kristeva's conclusions regarding the absence of catharsis
in Duras' writing? With respect to Duras, Kristeva states that when literature
that confines itself to baring melancholia lacks catharsis and resolution,
"it encounters, recognizes, but also spreads the pain that summons
it" (Black Sun 229). Many commentators describe Endgame in similar
terms, as a play that infects the audience with its despair without providing
a release for the tension and anguish that it creates because it lacks
a resolution.40 This
interpretation, while most likely true of many people's experience of
the play, is problematic with respect to Beckett's work since he rejects
and parodies traditional dramatic forms, such as the role of catharsis
in classical tragedy. In response to the commentators who complain about
the tension created by a lack of resolution, one could argue that the
problem lies with their expectations regarding dramatic forman expectation
that Beckett directly challenges.
Even more problematic is Kristeva's concern that Duras' novels lack redemption,
forgiveness, the promise of a beyond, or any kind of improvement (Black Sun 228).
Despite the different interpretations provided for Endgame, all
readers would agree that Endgame clearly lacks these features as
well. However, there may be good reasons for challenging the religious
demand or hope for redemption, forgiveness and reconciliation especially
with respect to the monstrosity of the destructive forces and suffering
of the twentieth century. Against all the narratives of redemption that
weigh down on us, Critchley seems to admire Beckett for providing "an
approach to meaninglessness as an achievement of the ordinary without
the rose-tinted glasses of redemption, an acknowledgement of the finiteness
of the finite and the limitedness of the human condition."41
According to Adorno, Endgame attacks the traditional ideal of reconciliation
by equating the repose of reconciliation with that of nothingness. He
states, "[h]ope creeps out of a world in which it is no more conserved
than pap and pralines, and back where it came from, back into death."42
In support of this, Adorno refers to Clov's statement that he loves order:
"[a] world where all would be silent and still and each thing in
its last place, under the last dust (Endgame 57)." The only "beyond"
recognized in Endgame is the enddeath.
Despite Kristeva's concern with catharsis, she also indicates that a
work that encounters suffering and death can curb melancholia through
semiotic processes and artistic devices. Her analysis can be used to distinguish
Beckett's Endgame from her treatment of Duras' work in two respects.
First, Kristeva suggests that Beckett's syntax, by marking time and moving
ahead by breaks and starts, is able to hold back or restrain the narrative
from spreading the pain (Black Sun 258). The narrative in Endgame does
move forward by fits and starts. "Pause" is the most frequently
used word in the text. Perhaps the pause allows the audience or reader
to step back, or it breaks the momentum by which the feeling of despair
is spread. Stories and dialogue are constantly interrupted, losing their
original momentum.
However, the interruptions at times may increase the despair and tension
experienced by the audience. For example, during the crucial moment when
Hamm considers whether they are beginning to mean something, the thought
is interrupted when Clov realizes there is a flea in his pants. The pauses
may also create a devitalized mood. Bennet Simon, who is of the view that
the frustration, impotence, and thwarted yearnings of the characters are
replicated in the audience like a virus, attributes the transmission of
the virus to the use of the pause. He states:
These pauses do not mark 'pregnant silences'; rather, they are a
means of cutting short or interrupting the full development of a
feeling. The frequent pauses are also of a piece with the thematic
contentthe break in continuity of generations. The pauses concretize
the fatigue of the characters but also convey the vague hope that
there will be a continuation.43
Given these different possibilities, the effect of the pause is indeterminate.
Leslie Hill indicates that this is a general problem with the role of
the semiotic in Kristeva's analysis of literature. Hill argues that since
the semiotic has no semantic function of its own, its impact on the meaning
of a text is essentially indeterminate: it can only be used to supplement
what is already apparent at the thematic level.44
The second artistic device that can prevent the transmission of the play's
despair is comedy or humour. Kristeva refers to the novellas of Clarice
Lispector as an example of writing that reveals suffering and death without
Dostoyevsky's aesthetics of forgiveness. She states that the humour used
throughout the novellas acquires purifying value and shields the reader
from the crisis (Black Sun 229). Kristeva also refers to the postmodern movement
towards comedy in her conclusion: "The desire for comedy shows up
today to concealwithout for that matter being unaware of itthe concern
for such a truth without tragedy, melancholia without purgatory"
(Black Sun 259).
As with Waiting for Godot, Beckett uses comedy, laughter and slap-stick
humour in Endgame. Does his use of laughter prevent the audience
from being dragged into Endgame's despair? At times, Beckett's
humour is foolish, ridiculous and absurd; at other times it is dark
very dark. Nagg's joke about the tailor is quite funny and displays Beckett's
crude sense of humour ("a neat seat can be very ticklish
a snug
crotch is always a teaser
a smart fly is a stiff proposition
"),
but in the end, it makes us laugh at the sad state of the world (Endgame 22).
Throughout the play, suffering itself is laughed at or treated as a game
or a joke. Nell says, "Nothing is funnier than unhappiness, I'll
grant you that
Yes, yes, it's the most comical thing in the world"
(Endgame 18). Nagg and Nell laugh at having lost their legs in an accident (Endgame
16). Hamm finds pleasure in the story of the father who came begging for
food for his starving boy and he considers the story to be comical (Endgame
52-3, 60). As discussed above, grieving itself is associated with laughter
(Endgame 68).
While the ridiculous and absurd kind of humour used by Beckett may provide
comic detachment from the suffering presented in the play, when laughter
is applied to such grave matters as the meaninglessness of life and human
suffering, it may appear cruel and cynical, thereby increasing one's feeling
of despair. On the other hand, cynicism may be a way to resist despair,
to maintain a distance from what would otherwise lead to depression. A
second problem with the role of laughter in Endgame is that the
characters seem tired of laughing at each other's jokes. Their jokes often
fall flat and the joker is the only one laughing. All jokes lose their
power to produce laughter over time, due to repetition. As Nell says,
"And we laugh, we laugh, with a will, in the beginning. But it's
always the same thing. Yes, it's like the funny story we have heard too
often, we still find it funny, but we don't laugh any more" (Endgame 18).
As with the use of pause, Beckett's humour affects the meaning of the
play for his readers and spectators in contrary ways. For example, while
Adorno argues that Beckett's humour exhausts itself, Critchley argues
that the laughter we find in Beckett is an acknowledgement of finitude
and a site of resistance.45
Rather than providing positive meaning, redemption, or reconciliation,
Beckett's Endgame seems at one level to depict a longing for renunciation
and silence. Some find it to be theatrically frustrating because, unlike
traditional drama, it has no resolution. The characters are trapped in
a tortured existence and do not have the desire or will to change it
they just go on and on, playing out their games, without real discourse,
and without the ability to feel anything or form connections with others.
There is no catharsis in Endgame. Throughout the play, Hamm and
Clov make statements that indicate that they long for the end, and that
they think it is time to end. And yet, they hesitate. They go on, never
making it off the stage. At the end of the play, Clov seems ready to leave
but he remains frozen, standing motionless near the door as he was at
the beginning of the play. Their final words to each other seem staged
another game. The ending suggests that it will begin again, that it
will go on and on; "[t]he end is in the beginning and yet you go
on" (Endgame 69). There is much in Endgame that seems to depict
and evoke "impossible mourning."
And yet, unlike Kristeva's analysis of the melancholic literature of Duras,
Endgame does not lead to a blankness of meaning; rather, it claws
at meaning. While the characters seem to desire silence and stillness,
they continue to go on, they continue with their stories, they continue
to talk, even though their talk is nonsense. They do not encounter the
unnameable and the unrepresentablesuffering and deathwith silence.
They laugh at it, they play with it, they try to imagine it, and they
continue to cry out in the darkness. Although Beckett's use of language,
rhythm, symbols and gestures differentiates Endgame from Kristeva's
bleak depiction of the melancholic literature of Duras, whether or not
these artistic devices are able to prevent the melancholia from spreading
to the reader or spectator is not something that can be determined by
an analysis of text or the staging of the play. In the end, this is a
question that can only be answered based on the experience of the reader
or spectator.
Endnotes
1. Julia Kristeva examines four artists: Hans Holbein, Gérard
de Nerval, Dostoyevsky, and Marguerite Duras. Julia Kristeva, Black
Sun: Depression and Melancholia, trans. Leon S. Roudiez (New York:
Columbia University Press, 1989) All references to Kristeva's text will
be indicated in the text by "Black Sun." [return
to text]
2. Beckett makes this statement in his analysis of Joyce's
Finnegan's Wake. The passage continues: "You complain that
this stuff is not written in English. It is not written at all. It is
not to be reador rather it is not only to be read. It is to be looked
at and listened to. His writing is not about something, it is that
something itself." "Dante...Bruno...Vico...Joyce,"
(1929) in Disjecta: Miscellaneous Writings and a Dramatic Fragment
(London: John Calder Publishers Ltd., 1983), p. 27. [return
to text]
3. Sigmund Freud, "Mourning and Melancholia"(1917)
in Penguin Freud Library Volume 11 (London: Penguin Books, 1991).
[return to text]
4. Ibid., p. 252. [return
to text]
5. Ibid., p. 265. [return
to text]
6. Ibid., p. 258. [return
to text]
7. Ibid., p. 262 and p. 267. [return
to text]
8. Freud altered his theory of the process of introjection
that occurs in melancholia in his subsequent writings. In "The Ego
and the Id," Freud argues that the introjection of the object inside
the ego that occurs in melancholia is an essential contribution towards
the constitution of the ego's character. Instead of viewing identification
as occurring as a consequence of an object-cathexis, he states that immediate
identification with the parents precedes object relations. Penguin
Freud Library Volume 11 (London: Penguin Books, 1991), pp. 368-370.
[return to text]
9. Dierdre Bair, Samuel Beckett: A Biography (London:
1980), p. 39. [return to text]
10. Samuel Beckett, Watt (London: 1976), p. 255.
[return to text]
11. Alan Schneider, "Working with Beckett"
in Lawrence Graver and Raymond Federman (eds.) Samuel Beckett: the
Critical Heritage (Boston: Routledge, 1979), pp. 173-88 at p. 173.
[return to text]
12. Village Voice (March 19, 1958), pp. 8-15.
Dian Sherzer writes: "Endgame is indeed a text which has the
power to claw: the text claws through its message of man's predicament
in the world, it claws through the characters' sinister game, it claws
at language and through language by its constant unsettling and unnerving
disruptions." "Beckett's Endgame, or What Talk Can Do"
Modern Drama 22 (1979) 291-303 at p. 301. [return
to text]
13. A particularly interesting interpretation is that
Beckett pits his four characters against the darkened faces of the audience.
"The ... game's purpose is to frustrate our attempts to interpret
Endgame definitively; checkmate occurs when we recognize that the
play is deliberately designed to resist even the most ingenious of explications."
James Acheson, "Chess with the Audience: Samuel Beckett's Endgame"
in Patrick A. McCarthy (ed.) Critical Essays on Samuel Beckett
(Boston: G.K.Hall & Co., 1986), p. 181. [return
to text]
14. David H. Hesla provides a summary of these interpretations.
The Shape of Chaos: An Interpretation of the Art of Samuel Beckett
(Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1971), pp. 151-156.
[return to text]
15. For example: Stanley Cavell, "Ending the Waiting
Game: A Reading of Beckett's Endgame," Must We Mean What We Say?
A Book of Essays (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1976)
[return to text]
16. The ego, the part of the mind that orders our thoughts,
is represented by Clov. The id, the part that blindly strives to satisfy
its desires, is identified with Hamm. Nagg and Nell are identified with
the super-ego because it is a constituent of the mind that arises out
of the male child's Oedipus phase. Acheson, pp. 184-6. [return
to text]
17. Ann McMillan argues that Beckett's theatre "mounts
a continual assault upon the structure of representation which implicitly
uphold the ontological or juridical authority of the logocentric order,
using strategies of fragmentation and repetition, replacing the stable
sign-referent relationship with a multiplication of signifiers... The
plays work against the assumption of any definitive position of authority
from which to determine truth, meaning or knowledge, for either characters
or audience." Theatre On Trial: Samuel Beckett's Later Drama
(New York: Routledge, 1993), p. 92. [return
to text]
18. Simon Critchley, Very Little
Almost Nothing:
Death, Philosophy, Literature (London: Routledge, 1997), p. 141.
[return to text]
19. Ibid., p.142 and p.145 (with respect to Derrida's
reluctance to write on Beckett). [return
to text]
20. Theodor W. Adorno, Aesthetic Theory (London:
Athlone Press Ltd., 1997) at p.341; discussed by Critchley at p. 150.
[return to text]
21. Theodor W. Adorno, "Trying to Understand
Endgame,"
New German Critique, 25 (1982), pp. 119-150 at p. 137 and 120
[return to text]
22. Ibid., pp. 126-9. [return
to text]
23. Aesthetic Theory, p. 153 [emphasis added];
discussed by Critchley, p. 151. [return
to text]
24. Critchley, pp. 151-2. [return
to text]
25. Ibid., at p.157. As Critchley, states on p. 160,
Adorno's piece on Endgame ultimately tells us more about Adorno's
preoccupations than those of Beckett's text. Perhaps this is inevitable.
[return to text]
26. Andrew Brink, "Samuel Beckett's Endgame
and the Schizoid Ego" in Lance St. John Butler (ed.) Critical
Thought Series (Aldershot: Scholar Press, 1993), p. 268.
[return to text]
27. Judith A. Roof, "A Blink in the Mirror: From
Oedipus to Narcissus and Back in the Drama of Samuel Beckett" in
Katherine H. Burkman (ed.) Myth and Ritual in the Plays of Samuel Beckett
(New Jersey: Associated University Presses, Inc., 1987), p. 151.
[return to text]
28. Bennett Simon, Tragic Drama and the Family: Psychoanalytic
Studies From Aeschylus to Beckett (New Haven: Yale University Press,
1996), p. 214. [return to text]
29. Susan Letzler Cole, The Absent One: Mourning
Ritual, Tragedy, and the Performance of Ambivalence (Pennsylvania
State University Press, 1985), p. 143. [return
to text]
30. Samuel Beckett, Waiting for Godot (New York:
Grove Press, 1954), p. 32 [return to
text]
31. Freud states that the game is related to the child's
cultural achievement in allowing his mother to go away without protesting.
He compensated himself by staging the disappearance and return of the
objects within his reach. "Beyond the Pleasure Principle" in
Penguin Freud Library Volume 11 (London: Penguin Books, 1991),
pp. 283-286. [return to text]
32. Andrew Brink states that "[p]lay is what the
child does to create a healthy inner world based on its attachment experience
at the breast; when that goes wrong the child plays other more desperate
games of phantasy..." Brink, p. 265. [return
to text]
33. Simon, p. 223. [return
to text]
34. Critchley, p. 165. [return
to text]
35. Adorno, Aesthetic Theory, p.134; Critchley,
p.165. [return to text]
36. Critchley, p. 154 and 161. [return
to text]
37. Hersh Zeifman states: "Nobody in Beckett's
early drama is permitted to make a genuine exit. At the end, Clov is dressed
for the road, but he remains trapped on stage, 'impassive and motionless'.
Where is there to go, except back to the beginning? ... The circularity
of Beckett's theatre, the repeated denial of closure, creates in effect
a trap from which there is no escape: as there is no end to the play,
so there is no end to the play of human suffering. ... The impossibility
of a climax in Beckett's drama, in any sense of the word, ultimately becomes
as frustrating theatrically ... For endless repetition invariably
creates an unbearable tension in the audiencea tension that, lacking
closure, can never find release." "The Syntax of Closure: Beckett's
Late Drama" in Lois Oppenheim and Marius Buning (eds.) Beckett
On and On... (London: Associated University Presses, Inc., 1996),
pp. 256-57. [return to text]
38. Zeifman notes that at least Rockaby has an
endinga resolution rarely encountered in Beckett's theatre. Zeifman,
p. 241 and p. 250. While there is a clearer sense of progression and resolution
in Rockaby, it is not a redemptive or consoling resolution, particularly
since the hypnotic, soothing rhythm is violently disrupted by the last
passage, when character states: "rock her off / stop her eyes / fuck
life / rock her off / rock her off". Samuel Beckett, "Rockaby"
in Collected Shorter Plays (London: Faber and Faber Limited, 1984)
at p. 280. [return to text]
39. With respect to Krapp's Last Tape, Phil Baker
argues: "The play ends with a tragic celebration of real loss...
Krapp shared the same notebook as Endgame, but in Krapp
the dustbins have been emptied by the end of the work." He interprets
Rockaby as a belated death rite: "Rockaby spells her
dying out as if to witness it again, or to confirm that she really is
dead, translating her death into the Symbolic." Beckett and the
Mythology of Psychoanalysis (New York, MacMillan Press Ltd., 1998),
pp. 152-153. [return to text]
40. See Zeifman above, fn. 40, and Bennet Simon below,
fn. 44. [return
to text]
41. Critchley, p. 179. Martha Nussbaum also views Beckett's
work as trying to cure us of the religious desire for redemption: "We
can be redeemed only by ending the demand for redemption, by ceasing to
use the concepts of redemption." "Narrative Emotions: Beckett's
Genealogy of Love" in Love's Knowledge (New York: Oxford University
Press, 1990), p.305. [return to text]
42. Adorno, "Endgame" p.150.
[return to text]
43. Simon, pp. 228-29. [return
to text]
44. With respect to Kristeva's Revolution in Poetic
Language [trans. Margaret Waller (New York: Columbia University Press,
1984)], Hill argues that Kristeva privileges the symbolic interpretation
in her reading of Mallarmé's poems because the effect of the semiotic
on the meaning is indeterminate. Hill argues that, since Kristeva defines
the semiotic as being prior or transversal to meaning, the only role left
for the semiotic to fill in her reading of the poems is to replicate and
supplement what is already apparent at the thematic level: "the semiotic
has no semantic function of its own, and its articulation can at best
be surmised or described. Its impact on the meaning of the poem as such
becomes essentially indeterminate
" Leslie Hill, "Julia
Kristeva: Theorizing the Avant-Garde?" in John Fletcher and Andrew
Benjamin (eds.) Abjection, Melancholia and Love: The Work of Julia
Kristeva (London: Routledge, 1990), 148-9. While Hill's comments concern
Kristeva's Revolution in Poetic Language, Kristeva primarily provides
a thematic interpretation in Black Sun as well. Where she does discuss
the semiotic, it largely confirms and extends the thematic meaning of
the text. [return to text]
45. See Critchley, pp. 157-160. [return
to text]
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