Or, in Blanche Dubois' case, the mascara.
I was going
to skip over Dunbar entirely, but I felt that to not even nod at the poem written by a Dayton legend would be remiss. (Also, I found a pretty great picture of him and that's just not something I can pass up for my post.) So I'll tie it all in by saying: "We Wear the Mask" is certainly transparent in its interpretation of an African American's challenged life because it is written by such a man with strong beliefs and muscles in those causes of the time, it still rings true as a song of solidarity for any person who has "worn a mask" in order to survive. See Nate's Blog for more on the duality of this poem. I'm not even going to try to beat that horse; he's done it so well.
I don't know how Tennessee Williams manages to make everything in his
muggy, dingy worlds also so painstakingly beautiful. Reading this play again reminds me why I wanted to be a writer and also why I so easily gave up. If someone has already done THIS, what good are my attempts at writing? When there are authors who already captured the same truths I want to capture but they did it 200 years before and nobody's done it better since. Me trying to write a play of any consequence is like a pimply middle school featherweight volunteering to jump in the ring with Ali. That said: Thank you, Tennesee Williams, for creating your volume of work, all beautiful snapshots of a twisted, bloodied hearts.
The connection I set out to make in this post is the Dunbarian "mask" of William's brazen leading lady, Blanche. In her case, it is not the terse line of a sonnet or even the formalized language of a social class. Her "mask" is that of purity and other requirements of a socially acceptable "lady". It takes the physical form in a powdered face, costume jewelry and a paper lampshade to lessen the truthful glow of iridescent bulbs. Unfortunately, her mask isn't enough to give her a new chance at life after a string of misfortunes and mislaid (pun intended) trusts. Stanley makes sure to rip her mask a new one.
This play makes me uncomfortable, and that is why it is successful. I meet these characters and do not know who is right. I do not know who I side with. I am both Blanche and Stella. Both the tainted whore and the bruised lover. Equally so, I am Mitch and Stanley: scared to either lose or disappoint the woman who raised me, and scared to lose the lover I do not deserve.
Though, it's har
d to separate the iconic images of the movie production of this stage play from the casting in my mind as I read. I wonder if I'd relate so much with Stanley if he didn't wear the mask of Marlon Brando's face.
I was going
to skip over Dunbar entirely, but I felt that to not even nod at the poem written by a Dayton legend would be remiss. (Also, I found a pretty great picture of him and that's just not something I can pass up for my post.) So I'll tie it all in by saying: "We Wear the Mask" is certainly transparent in its interpretation of an African American's challenged life because it is written by such a man with strong beliefs and muscles in those causes of the time, it still rings true as a song of solidarity for any person who has "worn a mask" in order to survive. See Nate's Blog for more on the duality of this poem. I'm not even going to try to beat that horse; he's done it so well.I don't know how Tennessee Williams manages to make everything in his
muggy, dingy worlds also so painstakingly beautiful. Reading this play again reminds me why I wanted to be a writer and also why I so easily gave up. If someone has already done THIS, what good are my attempts at writing? When there are authors who already captured the same truths I want to capture but they did it 200 years before and nobody's done it better since. Me trying to write a play of any consequence is like a pimply middle school featherweight volunteering to jump in the ring with Ali. That said: Thank you, Tennesee Williams, for creating your volume of work, all beautiful snapshots of a twisted, bloodied hearts.The connection I set out to make in this post is the Dunbarian "mask" of William's brazen leading lady, Blanche. In her case, it is not the terse line of a sonnet or even the formalized language of a social class. Her "mask" is that of purity and other requirements of a socially acceptable "lady". It takes the physical form in a powdered face, costume jewelry and a paper lampshade to lessen the truthful glow of iridescent bulbs. Unfortunately, her mask isn't enough to give her a new chance at life after a string of misfortunes and mislaid (pun intended) trusts. Stanley makes sure to rip her mask a new one.
This play makes me uncomfortable, and that is why it is successful. I meet these characters and do not know who is right. I do not know who I side with. I am both Blanche and Stella. Both the tainted whore and the bruised lover. Equally so, I am Mitch and Stanley: scared to either lose or disappoint the woman who raised me, and scared to lose the lover I do not deserve.
Though, it's har
d to separate the iconic images of the movie production of this stage play from the casting in my mind as I read. I wonder if I'd relate so much with Stanley if he didn't wear the mask of Marlon Brando's face.
Aw, thank you. You're pretty much the best. Your contributions to class are the best. While many of us, including me, stumble through words to try and find meaning, you deliver concise and direct observations that are absolutely true.
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