The Cry of Andromache

In Luke's most recent blog, he spoke about why we laughed at that first howl by Andromache in the climactic scene we watched in class. I have to say, in many ways, I absolutely agree with what he has to say.

Mr. Sexson has spoken many times of our need to laugh in order to keep from crying, but in certain situations, crying is one's only alternative. I know I've often felt some major pain or another, some upset of my world, and laughed at the sheer senselessness of it all. There is a huge difference, however, between this situation and those moments when one is moved to the point of tears because what we are seeing is too much, too evil a pain for our sensibilites to sustain and carry on with fortitude. The howl by Andromache in the Trojan Women seemed altogether too...forced. Though the actress perhaps sought to convey the rising up of this long and tortured wail from the very root of her soul, what she actually managed was far from this. And somehow, we laughed, when we should have cried. All one has to do is watch specific news broadcasts of earthquake victims or of relatives of suicide bomb victims, in order to hear a truly arresting and heartwrenching sob, the terror in a person's eyes...and the despair.

I will say this; throughout the course of her speech, I was drawn in to the unfolding drama. I disagree with Luke when it comes to long speeches being ineffective in demonstrating tragedy. Granted, they are less true to life than disturbing sobs and incoherent phrases, but one cannot say the greatest tragic monologues of all time have no pathos. They do. Rather than assaulting only our hearts, they barrage our minds as well, allowing us no escape from the extended moment. If these words were simply acted to their fullest potential....if they were given the weight and the passion they deserve, then there would be few who are bored with Shakespeare and who can remain uneffected by the speech of Andromache among others. Without the impact, without the arresting passionate cries of pain and anguish, these spoken words of those great tragedians of our past are just that, words, and have no greater consequence.