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The Iceman Cometh

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...you know that your fascination is morbid, but you can't tear your eyes away from the awfulness of it: the sheer ghoulish drama unfolding before you like some sick joke of the gods.

I remember the first time I watched this play. I believe it was Lee Marvin's portrayal of Hickey on a presentation of American Playhouse. I was held from first to last with that jaw-gaping awe that only the best dramatic works can inspire.

This is a rare work of the highest measure. It combines its existential angst with portrayals so uncluttered that we are spared the usual contortions of the literati. To be sure, there is symbolism and allusion enough: the entire play takes place in a bar called "Hope"; the setting is a meat packing district, literally the most dead end of dead ends; Hickey sells for a living, a profession that trades on hopes and fears. But these are just passing nods to the writer's craft. O'Neill includes them to keep the acolytes happy. The story depends on neither its setting nor its devices. It would work as well set in some professional clubs I know.

This play is concerned with the necessity of delusions. The various characters assembled around the bar waiting for Hickey's appearance are different flavours of delusion. It's like Dante's Inferno, with each character defining a different circle of hell. And when Hickey shows up, his effect is not much short of Satan's.

No one could write a play like this today. We have become a society so steeped in cool cynicism that we have lost our authenticity. Today, a theme like O'Neill's could only be invoked with a veiled smirk. Think of all the recent movies that have dealt with this thesis: they are either clichéd, cruel or contemptuous. Consider, for example, "American Beauty". Delusion is a topic we approach with patronizing disdain for fear of seeming earnest.

What is the line between delusion and hope? Is hope itself delusional? Perhaps all humans are fundamentally flawed and can only avoid despair by wrapping ourselves in a cloak of unreality and fantasy. Hope is a crutch; avoidance is therapy; unflinching reality leads only to death or to madness. Heavy stuff.

It doesn't matter whether you agree or disagree with O'Neill's thesis because this play wasn't written to advance a specific point of view; it was written to exorcise demons. All of O'Neill's great plays were, to varying degrees, products of his suffering. This one came closest to connecting his personal pain with universal aspects of the human condition. This theme scares us because we are all so very vulnerable to self-delusion, and O'Neill's unsparing scrutiny exposes our own fear and pain so candidly that we are forced into self-reflection and humility. This empathy is at the heart of all the great tragedies: we could be as foolish as Lear, as jealous as Othello, as ambitious as Faust, or as delusional as Hickey. Don't set yourself higher than these figures: there but for the grace of God go I.

During one of the lowest periods of his adult life, from 1911 through about 1915, Eugene O'Neill lived, off and on, in three New York flophouses. These were Jimmy the Priest's, the Hell Hole, and the Garden Hotel. An amalgam of these three served as the model for Harry Hope's in THE ICEMAN COMETH. With the exception of Hickey, every character in the play was based on a friend or acquaintance from this period of his life.

The play, written in the 1940's, is set in 1912. All, or almost all, of the down and out residents at Harry Hope's had once lived fairly normal lives with jobs, families, and plans for the future.

Each man had a pipe dream, fulfillment of which, he thought, would give him a better life. Each man also had a reason why he could never fulfill his pipe dream.

The high point of their lives would come each year on the eve of Harry Hope's birthday when a salesman named Hickey would arrive to begin his periodic binge, For the duration of his stay, the drinks would flow, on Hickey, of course, and an atmosphere of celebration would fill Harry Hope's

His visit in the year of the play was different. A new Hickey showed up. This version of Hickey was a messianic salesman who had seen the light and was determined to sell his friends on the necessity of seeing the same light. He told them that he no longer needed the relief that booze had brought him in the past and that he was freed of his problem with pipe dreams.

His message was that they could do the same. One by one, he dismantled their pipe dreams and pressured them into trying to make their pipe dreams real. He succeeded in sowing seeds of misery in each of them, and each soon discovered that his pipe dream was all he had. Without his pipe dream he had nothing to live for.

They detected that Hickey might not really be as happy as he had let on and they challenged him to reveal how he had rid himself of his problem with pipe dreams so successfully. Hickey, in an almost manic mood, then described a life of drunkenness, dishonesty, and infidelity, including contracting venereal disease and transmitting it to his wife. She had always forgiven him for his infidelities and abuses because she had a pipe dream that he would reform.

In his guilt, knowing that he would never reform, he began to hate her pipe dream and her along with it. Because of his fear that she would eventually be unable to forgive him further, he destroyed her pipe dream by murdering her in her sleep.

While he was relating this, two detectives who had been searching for him had arrived and heard this confession. When he realized that they had heard, he immediately claimed that what he had just said was the result of insanity.

Everyone seized on the word insanity and, convinced themselves that Hickey was insane, rationalized going back to the pipe dreams that he had destroyed, and thus back to their harmonious existence. Each character then narrated a face-saving version of what had happened when he had attempted to fulfil his pipe dream and failed.

O'Neill has made a powerful case that each man must have his pipe dreams, and that if you destroy his pipe dreams you destroy him.

Although some plays seem to be meant to be seen but are not particularly readable, THE ICEMAN COMETH is one that succeeds on both levels. Read it. See it. It's powerful either way.

O'Neill's finest drama, The Iceman Cometh, is a compelling tale of desolation. The play centers around its characters hope for a different and more fulfilling life. Driven to hide from society and anathetize their problems with alchohol and pipe dreams, deluding themselves into thinking their lives have a psuedo-promise for a vague future imporvement; the characters converge in Harry Hope's squalid bar in New York City's meat-packing district. There, they live a past-obsessed life based incongrously on a fantasy future. When Hickey, an old friend who comes to the bar on periodic binges, comes and forces the others to confront their pipe dreams, we learn the value of sustaining illusions to those whose lives are so desolate that they have nothing else to live for. The Iceman Cometh is a classic of the American theater and I wholeheartedly reccomend it to everyone.

Although O'Neill finished "The Iceman Cometh" in 1940, he postponed production until after the war, when it enjoyed a run of 136 performances in 1946 after receiving mixed reviews. Three years after O'Neill's death, Jason Robards starred in a revival, resuscitating the play and launching his own career as O'Neill's master interpreter. In the half century since, it has gained somewhat in stature, and some drama critics and theatergoers consider it his best work.

There's not much of a plot and there is little in the way of action. A throng of professional drunks and dreamers crowd the seedy bar in a flophouse that is also home to many of the patrons. The more notable characters are Larry Slade, the cynical priest-figure who subjects the "pipe dreams" of the bar's denizens to a weary scrutiny; Rocky Pioggi, a bartender and a tough who doubles as a pimp to a pair of floozies; Don Parritt, a newcomer who (we soon learn) has ratted out his own mother, an anarchist who used to be Slade's lover; and Harry Hope, the club's ornery proprietor, who is preparing to celebrate his birthday.

They, and nearly a dozen other patrons, await the arrival of Hickey, a traveling salesman who occasionally goes on a bender, but always appears before Hope's birthday to get the festivities rolling and fuel the party with the bounty of his recent earnings. This year, Hickey is late--and the club's denizens will eventually find out why. And, unlike his appearance in previous years, Hickey's presence has the effect of choking the life out of the party. An apparently reformed man, he's on a mission, a reformed zealot who intends to rescue his fellow debauchers from their own escapist fantasies: For years, the residents have been "keep[ing] up the appearance of life with a few harmless pipe dreams about their yesterdays and tomorrows." Yet there's no chance of breaking the inertia as long as they are rooted to their barstools, and Hickey's cure is to hector each of them until they put up or shut up. (O'Neill featured similar themes and the same saloon setting, focusing on one of the play's minor characters and containing a similar ending, in "Tomorrow," his only published short story, which appeared three decades earlier, in 1917.)

O'Neill masterfully fleshes out the lead characters, avoiding the melodramatic flourishes that pepper his earlier work and employing a fine ear for barroom dialect and drivel. The play's weakness (and on this, others certainly disagree with me) is with the Greek chorus of New York City stereotypes of assorted immigrants and lowlifes: the Irish police lieutenant, the French anarchist editor, the British infantry captain, the streetwalkers, and so on--all of whom have fallen to the bottom of the barrel through the neck of a bottle. On the one hand, the cumulative effect of these portraits conveys the warm and oddly comforting camaraderie that survives the depressing hopelessness of these dilapidated lives and their delusional hopes. On the other hand (in both performance and while reading), it's hard to tell these scoundrels apart, they rarely rise above type, and none of them serve as much more than subjects for Hickey's ostensibly altruistic mission and of Slade's self-centered cynicism.

Because of its demands on the actors, this play (four hours long) can be insufferable in amateur hands, and you'll want to read it simply to get an inkling of what you should have seen. Even if you're fortunate enough to enjoy a well-done production, it's worth reading the original text because O'Neill's detailed stage directions and character descriptions add much more than can be shown on a stage. Although O'Neill's fans may disagree on whether "The Iceman Cometh" is his best, it's certainly among his most powerful.

A quickly read, depressing story of the shattering of dreams. The tale is so descriptive of its hard times that you can imagine it taking place in the dingiest, dreariest dive bar you ever set foot inside. The characters are cranky and irritating, and yet you can somehow appreciate the rut they're in and pity them. The play is brilliant in its power to describe in the briefest way the desperation of these souls, and their willingness to buy their ticket to freedom when the Iceman comes to town. Great surprise finish as well.

[Cue music]
You wanna go where people know,
people are all the same,
You wanna go where everybody knows your name . . .
[Music fades]

O'Neil's play, "The Iceman Cometh" is a 1912 version of "Cheers", that is if Sam was a bitter old agoraphobic, Norm and Cliff were disgraced military officers, Carla and Rebecca were prostitutes, Woody was a pimp, Frasier was a disenchanted former anarchist, and the bar was a dark, destitute hellhole in the slums of Manhattan where drunks go to wallow in their own self-pity. Ok, perhaps it's the antithesis of "Cheers". However, O'Neil performs a brilliant job in delivering a potent tale of a cast of characters and their broken dreams and hopes.

Throughout the play, O'Neil explores the idea of "pipe dreams" and their role in providing hope to an otherwise miserable life. Although these pipe dreams will never be fulfilled and the dreamers know it, it at least provides some rationale for their existence. The drunks are most happy when deluding themselves into believing their pipe dreams. Only when they are forced to confront these and break their own dreams are they at their most miserable and depressed. Indeed, the one who forces the patrons of the bar to confront their pipe dreams, Hickey, is the most hated and reviled, for he forces them to strip bare their lives and realize their own cesspool of existence.

The theme of death pervades throughout the play. Larry, the grand philosopher, is the one who preaches the most about death. Yet, he still hangs on to life, albeit by drowning his sorrows in cheap whiskey. When Hickey comes, he attempts to deliver the patrons from their miserable lives to achieve a fleeting resurrection, yet his efforts are futile, as the patrons soon return to their zombie-like drunken stupor. Hickey, who himself has a dark secret, is viewed as the Grim Reaper. The bar, itself, is referred to as a morgue and mausoleum, and for good measure, as the drunks there are dead inside and merely waiting to die.
"The Iceman Cometh" is a depressing look at the wasted lives of alcoholics and their miserable pipe dreams. And although it is set nearly a century ago, the same issues prevail today. This is a great little play to read and dissect.

In his play, Eugene O'Neill describes Harry Hope's bar and the depair among its customers during the early part of the 20th century. In the bar you meet tons of characters who have dreams but have no motivations to achieve them. So instead they drink and drink and along with their booze goes their ambitions. So as Harry's birthday get closer all the bar flies anxiously await the arrival of their pal, Hickey. But with him comes a surprize. Hickey brings with him a new way of life and it is up to the customers whether or not they accept his theory for obtaining peace. This is a great play with a interesting ending. Should be read by all.

I directed a successful production of ICEMAN close to 40 years ago. It is hard to believe it was that long ago; I am now a year older than Harry Hope, the owner of the Hell's Kitchen bar that is the setting for the play.

Comparisons are often made between Hickey and Willy Loman in DEATH OF A SALESMAN. Saying the two plays are similar because both are 'sad' or 'depressing' is like saying Coca Cola and cabernet sauvignon are similar because both are wet. Many plays are sad, and far too many critics are all wet when it comes to evaluating their worth.

I lost respect for Willy when I first saw or read the play, because when his friend and neighbor, Charlie, offers him a job, willy refuses. He has his 'pride,' you see, but that doesn't stop him from borrowing money from the same man -- money both know he can never repay. This is not a 'family' man as one poster suggests; this is a sadly deluded 'everyman' with warped values rooted in a simplistic view of materialism as the measure of success.

Hickey is not only a more realistic salesman -- we know from the play that he sells hardware, what does Willy sell? -- we actually see him in the act of 'selling' in the play. He pitches his vision of salvation to the assorted bums with the ferver of his preacher father. In fact, the actor who got the part of Hickey in the production I directed was the only one who actually 'sold' me on his ability to play the role. He was also a large man, very close to O'Neill's description, which has tremendous visual impact onstage. To see him rage among the benumbed denizens of the bar in the 4th act, is to see a tragic hero chart the course of his own destruction.

Hickey, especially in performance, commands respect, and we feel pity for those who have suffered the truth he has made them face. We feel sorry for Willy, and we feel sorry for his wife; it's sad story, no doubt about it. THE ICEMAN COMETH is a tragedy, shot through with the comedy of the human condition. There is a great deal of laughter to be had right into the 3rd act; see a good production and you will be amazed.

I think what I most admire in DEATH OF A SALESMAN is the fluid depiction of time, as the scenes shift from present to past and back again, from place to place. This is an imaginative use of one of the magical properties of live theater: the ability to say, in the simplest way, "now we are here," and a chair becomes a throne.

I couldn't put this play down when I read it, and then I was so interested in it I watched all four hours of the 1973 film version! It's hard to believe the play takes place so early in the twentieth century when its relevance has not diminished. It is a stunning portrait of addiction and the self-deception that so often accompanies it. It's tragic, but it's also hilarious in many parts. I don't think you will ever forget the characters, they're so colorful and interesting. It's like Long Day's Journey into night, but far more fun. (Ok, that's not saying much, but this IS actually a lot of fun! All the depressing drunkenness of Long Day's Journey, but lots of laughs, too!)

The Iceman Cometh was the first play that I read by O'Neill, and I was not disappointed. Through the magnificent development of characters, O'Neill demonstrates his amazing talent for writing. The entire play is dedicated to a small group of people who inhabit Harry Hope's bar, in which they have no purpose in life other than to talk about their pipe dreams. Even though they live their lives in illusions, it is the one thing that keeps them alive and full of some hope. However, when an old friend by the name of Hickman arrives to celebrate Harry Hope's birthday, their entire worlds are turned upside down. Hickman attempts to convince his buddies to give up their pipe dreams in order to live happy lives without any guilt. Instead of bringing them happiness, Hickman brings death with him. He is not a savior, since O'Neill illustrates that there can be no salvation in a modern universe. This is definitely a play for everyone to read, especially since O'Neill is a born playwright.

I also recommend "A Long Day's Journey into Night," by the same author.