And here is my next excerpt of the day from my script library.
Still on Eugene O’Neill – next play on the shelf is The Iceman Cometh
Jason Robards’ original portrayal of Hickey on Broadway in the 1950s (he came back and revived the role in a much later production, 20 years later) is one of those watershed moments in theatrical history that I wish I could have witnessed. Not only did it make him a star, but it raised the bar for stage actors everywhere. Whether or not you are even aware of Robards’ performance, it doesn’t matter. It’s out there, and it happened. It was one of “those” performances. A performance that people do not forget. People who saw him do that part still talk about it with this kind of “I don’t know what to say about it” awe.
The role of Hickey has to be one of the most physically and verbally demanding roles in the American theatrical canon. Hickey is rarely offstage. The play is four long dense acts. He has 5, 6, 7 page monologues throughout – It’s just a workout. It takes stamina to play that part. Stamina and concentration. And Robards apparently was the definitive Hickey.
Amazing.
Here’s just a snippet of Act Four – when Hickey comes clean about his wife Evelyn (the one who supposedly cheated on him with the iceman).
EXCERPT FROM The Iceman Cometh
HICKEY. [suddenly bursts out] 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. When you know the story of me and Evelyn, you’ll see there wasn’t any other possible way out of it, for her sake. Only I’ve got to start way back at the beginning or you won’t understand. [He starts his story, his tone again becomes musingly reminiscent.] You see, even as a kid I was always restless. I had to keep on the go. You’ve heard the old saying, “Ministers’ sons are sons of guns.” Well, that was me, and then some. Home was like a jail. I didn’t fall for the religious bunk. Listening to my old man whooping up hell fire and scaring those Hoosier suckers into shelling out their dough only handed me a laugh, although I had to hand it to him, the way he sold them nothing for something. I guess I take after him, and that’s what makes me a good salesman. Well, anyway, as I said, home was like jail, and so was school, and so was that damned hick town. The only place I liked was the pool rooms, where I could smoke Sweet Corporals, and mop up a couple of beers, thinking I was a hell-on-wheels sport. We had one hooker shop in town, and, of course, I liked that, too. Not that I hardly ever had entrance money. My old man was a tight old bastard. But I liked to sit around in the parlor and joke with the girls, and they liked me because I could kid ’em along and make ’em laugh. Well, you know what a small town is. Everyone got wise to me. They all said I was a no-good tramp. I didn’t give a damn what they said. I hated everybody in the place. That is, except Evelyn. I loved Evelyn. Even as a kid. And Evelyn loved me. [He pauses. No one moves or gives any sign except by the dread in their eyes that they have heard him. Except Parritt, who takes his hands from his face to look at Larry pleadingly]
PARRITT. I loved Mother, Larry! No matter what she did! I still do! Even though I know she wishes now i was dead! You believe that, don’t you? Christ, why can’t you say something?
HICKEY. [too absorbed in his story now to notice this — goes on in a tone of fond, sentimental remembrance.] Yes sir, as far back as I can remember, Evelyn and I loved each other. She always stuck up for me. She wouldn’t believe the gossip — or she’d pretend she didn’t. No one could convince her I was no good. Evelyn was stubborn as all hell once she’d made up her mind. Even when I’d admit things and ask her forgiveness, she’d make excuses for me and defend me against myself. She’d kiss me and say she knew I didn’t mean it and I wouldn’t do it again. So I’d promise I wouldn’t. I’d have to promise, she was so sweet and good, though I knew darned well — [A touch of strange bitterness comes into his voice for a moment] No, sir, you couldn’t stop Evelyn. Nothing on earth could shake her faith in me. Even I couldn’t. She was a sucker for a pipe dream. [Then quickly] Well, naturally, her family forbid her seeing me. They were one of the town’s best, rich for that hick burg, owned the trolley line and lumber company. Strict Methodists, too. They hated my guts. But they couldn’t stop Evelyn. She’d sneak notes to me and meet me on the sly. I was getting more restless. The town was getting more like a jail. I made up my mind to beat it. I knew exactly what I wanted to be by that time. I’d met a lot of drummers around the hotel and liked ’em. They were always telling jokes. They were sports. They kept moving. I liked their life. And I knew I could kid people and sell things. The hitch was how to get the railroad fare to the Big Town. I told Mollie Arlington my trouble. She was the madame of the cathouse. She liked me. She laughed and said, “Hell, I’ll stake you, Kid! I’ll bet on you. With that grin of yours and that line of bull, you ought to be able to sell skunks for good ratters!” [He chuckles] Mollie was all right. She gave me confidence in myself. I paid her back, the first money I earned. Wrote her a kidding letter, I remember, saying I was peddling baby carriages and she and the girls had better take advantage of our bargain offer. [He chuckles] But that’s ahead of my story. The night before I left town I had a date with Evelyn. I got all worked up, she was so pretty and sweet and good. I told her straight, “You better forget me, Evelyn, for your own sake. I’m no good and never will be. I’m not worthy to wipe your shoes.” I broke down and cried. She just said, looking white and scared, “Why, Teddy? Don’t you still love me?” I said, “Love you? God, Evelyn, I love you more than anything in the world. And I always will!” She said, “Then nothing else matters, Teddy, because nothing but death could stop my loving you. So I’ll wait, and when you’re ready you send for me and we’ll be married. I know I can make you happy, Teddy, and once you’re happy you won’t want to do any of the bad things you’ve done any more.” And I said, “Of course I won’t, Evelyn!” I meant it, too. I believed it. I loved her so much she could make me believe anything. [He sighs. There is a suspended waiting silence. Even the two detectives are drawn into it. Then Hope breaks into dully exasperated, brutally callous protest]
HOPE. Get it over, you long-winded bastard! You married her, and you caught her cheating with the iceman, and you croaked her, and who the hell cares? What’s she to us? All we want is to pass out in peace, bejees! [A chorus of dull, resentful protest from all the group. They mumble, like sleepers who curse a person who keeps awakening them, “What’s it to us? We want to pass out in peace!” Hope drinks and they mechanically follow his example. He pours another and they do the same. He complains with a stupid, nagging insistence.] No life in the booze! No kick! Dishwater. Bejees, I’ll never pass out!
HICKEY. [goes on as if there had been no interruption] So I beat it to the Big Town. I got a job easy, and it was a cinch for me to make good. I had the knack. It was like a game, sizing people up quick, spotting what their pet pipe dreams were, and then kidding ’em along that line, pretending you believed waht they wanted to believe about themselves. Then they liked you, they trusted you, they wanted to buy something to show their gratitude. It was fun. But still, a good time away from Evelyn. In each letter I’d tell her how I missed her, but I’d keep warning her, too. I’d tell her all my faults, how I liked my booze every once in a while, and so on. But there was no shaking Evelyn’s belief in me, or her dreams about the future. After each letter of hers, I’d be as full of faith as she was. So as soon as I got enough saved to start us off, I sent for her and we got married. Christ, wasn’t I happy for a while! And wasn’t she happy! I don’t care what anyone says, I’ll bet there never was two people who loved each other more than me and Evelyn. Not only then but always after, in spite of everything I did — [He pauses — then sadly] Well, it’s all there, at the start, everything that happened afterwards. I never could learn to handle temptation. I’d want to reform and mean it. I’d promise Evelyn, and I’d promise myself, and I’d believe it. I’d tell her, it’s the last time. And she’d say, “I know it’s the last time, Teddy. You’ll never do it again.” That’s what made it so hard. That’s what made me feel such a rotten skunk — her always forgiving me. My playing around with women, for instance. It was only a harmless good time to me. Didn’t mean anything. But I’d know what it meant to Evelyn. So I’d say to myself, never again. But you know how it is, traveling around. The damned hotel rooms. I’d get seeing things in the wall paper. I’d get bored as hell. Lonely and homesick. But at the same time sick of home. I’d feel free and I’d want to celebrate a little. I never drank on the job, so it had to be dames. Any tart. What I’d want was some tramp I could be myself with without being ashamed — someone I could tell a dirty joke to and she’d laugh.
CORA. [with a dull, weary bitterness] Jees, all de lousy jokes I’ve had to listen to and pretend was funny!
HICKEY. [goes on obliviously] Sometimes I’d try some joke I thought was a corker on Evelyn. She’d always make herself laugh. But I could tell she thought it was dirty, not funny. And Evelyn always knew about the tarts I’d been with when I came home from a trip. She’d kiss me and look in my eyes, and she’d know. I’d see in her eyes how she was trying not to know, and then telling herself even if it was true, he couldn’t help it, they tempt him, and he’s lonely, he hasn’t got me, it’s only his body, anyway, he doesn’t love them, I’m the only one he loves. She was right, too. I never loved anyone else. Couldn’t if I wanted to.
Watch John Frankenheimer’s 1975 film of The Iceman Cometh, with Lee Marvin as Hickey.
