In every complete book of Shakespeare’s work, “The Merchant of Venice” is listed as a comedy, but anyone who has seen or read the play will probably agree that it’s not very funny. In fact, the very notion that Elizabethan audiences, or perhaps the characters themselves would consider plot points like maligning a man for his religion (or his job, depending on what school of thought you belong to) or extracting a pound of human flesh from a living man humorous makes for an uneasy theater-going experience.
The same is true for J.M. Synge’s “The Playboy of the Western World.” It begins when Christy, a farmer’s son, stumbles into a tavern claiming to have murdered his father not seven days ago. To his relief (and the bewilderment of the audience, I expect) the townspeople don’t run him out, but applaud him for his courage. Only a very brave man would have the guts to kill his own dad. Then, after all the women in the surrounding area fall head over heels for him and he’s all set to marry the tavern keeper’s daughter, Pegeen, Christy’s father shows up with nothing more than a wound on his head.
Now that it turns out Christy isn’t a murderer the townsfolk revile him for being a liar and a coward. Pegeen is distraught, sick to her stomach that she nearly married such a man. After one more failed attempt to really kill his dad, Christy and his father leave the village. The play closes with Pegeen mourning the loss of her ‘playboy of the western world.’
Certain elements of this are funny, to be sure. It’s funny that the townsfolk interpret a cowardly attempt at murder as the ultimate act of courage, and it’s sort of funny again when they disown their hero after learning of his innocence. But it’s not all that believable and Christy’s attempts to restore his ‘good name’ are clumsy and strange. What are we supposed to take away from all this, that the villagers are nothing but a bunch of fun-loving, simple-minded bumpkins? I doubt it. Synge had nothing but the upmost respect for farmers and peasantry and credits them for not only inspiration but invaluable research material.
To modern ears, the language in the play is far from shocking, but its debut in 1907 sparked ‘The Playboy Riots,” a reaction against “a vile and inhuman story told in the foulest language,” to which Synge responded “Anyone who has lived in real intimacy with the Irish peasantry will know that the wildest sayings and ideas in this play are tame indeed compared with the fancies one may hear in any little hillside cabin in Geesala, or Carraroe, or Dingle Bay.” And to my quips about unwarranted reactions or lack of overall ‘message’ in his play, Synge has this to say: “The drama, like the symphony, does not teach or prove anything.” With that in mind, it’s easy to enjoy what unfolds onstage in “Playboy,” at the Pearl Theatre Company until November 22.
