A C T A U N I V E R S I T A T I S L O D Z I E N S I S FO LIA L IT TE R A R IA A N G LICA 6, 2003
Paulina M irow ska
TH E A M BIG U O U S M OTHER-FIG URE IN IIARO LD PIN T E R ’S
T H E R O O M
In our present-day world, everything is uncertain and relative. There is no fixed point; we are surrounded by the unknown. M artin Esslin, The Theatre o f the Absurd (1972)
E ndued with distinctive, idiosyncratic personalities, and - in m o st cases - tantalisin g ly equivocal, P in te r’s fem ale p ro tag o n ists are all original creations. A nd yet, even a cursory glance at the d ra m a tist’s plays, in particu lar the early ones, is bound to reveal a g rou p o f wom en who share a considerable num ber o f characteristics, tem pting one to form som e kind o f generalisation as regards the representatives o f the group. I he fact th a t the wom en are endow ed with som e o f the attrib u tes usually associated with m oth ers has led several critics dealing with P in te r’s w ork to refer to them as m other-figures (Esslin 1973, 61; H a y m an 7, 11).
C h aracters like Rose in The Room , M eg in The Birthday P a rty , M ora in A Slight Ache, M rs Stokes in A N ight Out, o r A nnie and M illy in N ight
School are presented as active and busy figures, bustling ab o u t the kitchen,
often engaged in som e energetic activities, perform ing household chores. M oreover, they seem to be attentive and devoted to their families. O n the o th er hand, they are annoyingly loquacious and conspicuously solicitous tow ards their - usually m ale - charges, doing th eir utm ost to shelter them from the harsh reality o f the outside w orld. N o t infrequently, in their excessive protective care, they com e across as possessive, dom ineering, even a u th o rita ria n . Q uite significantly, only one o f the wom en - M rs Stokes - is an actual m o th er. T he o ther m other-figures are childless; still, th eir m otherly qualities m anifest them selves in the way they behave tow ards the m em bers o f their im m ediate family or persons close to their heart.
Interestingly, pondering over the playw right’s ap p ro ach to the c h a ra c terisatio n o f m o th er types in his pieces, R onald H ay m an goes as far as to venture the follow ing com m ent:
Pinter tends to be better when w riting ab o u t m other-substitutes rather than actual mothers. (33)
Indeed, w om en such as R ose, M eg o r F lo ra are, u n q uestionably, unique, highly com plex, m ulitfaced, hence puzzling, characters th a t have succeeded in cap tu rin g the atten tio n o f a large num ber o f critics. T his is n o t to say th a t the critical m ilieux, or the general audience for th a t m a tte r, have been u nanim ous in their response to P in ter’s m other-figures. W h a t is recognisably P interesque is th a t his p resen tation o f m o therlike ch aracters succeeds in eliciting various, often conflicting, reactions on the p art o f th e addressees o f his plays. T his seems largely due to the fact th a t P in te r’s view o f w om en, n otably in his early dram as, is conspicuously m ale (S akellaridou 11). T he variety o f female characters in his pieces are invariably m y sterio us and am b ig u o u s, which m akes them a riddle an d a challenge to his m ale pro tag o n ists along with the audience. P inter epitom ises the view o f a w om an as a figure to be loved and execrated, desired and feared, respected and scorned, and - n o t infrequently - lost. Skilful in evading co m m unication, his heroines eschew his m e n ’s persistent attem p ts at co n fro n ta tio n , elude easy explanation and guard their am biguous status.
T h e article is devoted to discussing R ose, the h eroine o f The Room, whose ch aracterisation form s an integral p a rt o f the p lay w righ t’s “ co n stan t effo rt to overcom e . . . obstacles” in portray ing “com plex” fem ale characters (H ollis 196). It deals w ith the apparently im penetrable au ra o f am biguity enveloping R ose - a fine exam ple o f the d ra m a tist’s u n fa th o m a b le m o th er- figures - as well as w ith her com plex relations with the m ale pro tag on ists in the piece. Finally, particu lar atten tio n is paid to the role o f language in generating the equivocality aro u n d the w om an in P in ter’s d eb u t play.
W ritten and prem iered in 1957, The R oom seems to set the to n e for the plays th a t follow in th a t it deals with certain m otifs an d p reoccupatio ns which have since becom e recurrent and surface even in the m a tu re w ork o f the playwright. According to M artin Esslin, there are tw o basic com ponents o f the piece th a t will frequently re-emerge in the later Pinter. F irstly, The
Room is woven around the basic situ atio n involving c o n tra st between
a room and a cold and hostile w orld outside the do or. Secondly, the m ain focus o f the play is on a couple: “ the m an large, b ru tal, fifty years o ld ” and “ the w om an, older th an the m an, alm ost sixty, m oth erly, sen tim en tal” (1973, 61). F u rth erm o re, and perhaps m ost significantly, the couple in focus is enw rapped by “ an a u ra o f am big uity” (1973, 61) evoked so skilfully by
the playw right and m aintained successfully th ro u g h o u t the play. It is the atm osphere o f m ystery and uncertainty encapsulating the p ro tag o n ists and g eneratin g b o th in terest and anx iety th a t co n stitu te s th e m o st p aten t characteristic o f P in te r’s style.
A lready in th e opening scene o f The R oom - a typical P interish gam bit - n o t only the c o n tra s t betw een th e w arm and cosy in terio r and the hostile exterior bu t also th a t between the couple o f the p ro tagonists is clearly discernible. Rose, com pletely absorbed in attend ing to the needs o f B ert H u d d , presum ably her h u sband, circulating co n tinuously between the kitchen table and the stove, or ju st sw inging to and fro in h er ro cking ch air, is alw ays in m o tio n . She is presented as an active, m obile, dynam ic figure, as opposed to Bert, w ho is passive, subm issive, quiescent, virtually lifeless. M oreover, the w om an seems to be excessively attached to B ert and anxious to m ak e herself as agreeable and useful, even indispensable, to him as possible. She exercises p ro tective care and c o n tro l like th a t o f a m o th er, p am p erin g B ert and perform ing even the sim plest actions for this grow n-up m an , such as b uttering his slices o f bread, pou rin g m ilk into his cup, helping him p u t on his jersey and fixing his m uffler. B ert, in c o n tra st, sittin g at the table w ith a m agazine pro p p ed in fron t o f him , lim ited in his ac tions to com pliant acceptance o f w hat R ose has to offer, com es across as cold, uninvolved, passionless, indifferent. Finally, it is R ose who does all the talkin g as the play opens; the m an, on the o th er h and, rem ains om inously silent.
In his discussion o f P in te r’s earliest piece, R o n ald H a y m a n offers a hardly fav ourable com m ent ab o u t the female p ro tag o n ist o f The Room:
Rose isn’t a m other, but she’s the prototype of all Pinter’s chattering, fussing, nagging mother-figures, the women who never stop to listen but never stop asking implicitly for the goodwill of the husband or son or nephew or lodger. (11)
U narguably, one o f R o se’s m ost conspicuous qualities is her volubility. F rom the very first m om ents o f the play the w om an keeps on chattering a b o u t the virtues o f the ro o m , the cold w inter d ay ou tsid e and the dankness o f the basem ent:
It’s very cold out, I can tell you. I t’s murder. .. T h a t’s right. You eat that. ^ ou 11 need it. You can feel it in here. Still, the room keeps warm. I t ’s better than the basement, anyway.... It’s good you were up here, I can tell you. I t’s good you weren t down there, in the basement. T h at’s no joke.... Those walls would have finished you off. (101—103)
By constantly em phasising how contented she is w ith w hat she has and stressing the com fort and safety o f the room as against the harsh w eather
o u td o o rs o r unacceptable conditions o f the basem ent flat, the w om an m akes her anxiety and insecurity ap p aren t. E ngrossed in her repetitive m onolo gue and u n d au n ted by the m a n ’s unresponsiveness, R ose, it seems, is giving herself the w ords o f com fort which her in articu late co m p anion refuses to give her. On the o th er han d , it could be argued th a t the w o m an ’s overbearing m an n er and to rre n ts o f w ords, in fact, preclude any reaction on the p a rt o f Bert. I f she poses a question, she either answ ers it herself or proceeds to talk ab o u t som e o th er topic, or asks a n o th e r question, granting Bert little tim e to voice his opinion, even if he intended to.
T h e scene, linguistically and visually, suggests a relatio nship between a m o th e r and a child ra th e r th an a w ife-husband relationship. R o se is treatin g Bert like her little boy, telling him n o t only w hat to eat o r drink , or w hat to p u t on so as n o t to catch a cold, b u t also w hat he think s and feels:
If they ever ask you, Bert, I ’m quite happy where I am. We’re quiet, we’re all right. Y ou’re happy up here. (103)
In doing so, R ose, in fact, is evidently curtailing B ert’s right o r ability to exist independently. M oreover, she attem p ts to keep h er m an in the house and is clearly unw illing to let him go outside as this m eans letting him ou t o f the sphere o f her influence and supervision.
R o se’s m onologue m akes her aversion to the outside w orld a p p a re n t to the audience; fu rtherm ore, the w om an is also clearly w ary o f or, possibly, feels th reatened by o ther occu pants o f the house:
I d o n ’t know who lives down there now. Whoever it is, they’re taking a big chance. M aybe they’re foreigners. (103)
A gain and again, she asks herself w hether there are any ten an ts living in o ther room s. W hen visited by the land lo rd , M r K id d , she attem p ts to q uestion him ab o u t the occupants o f the basem ent. T h e lan d lo rd , how ever, skilfully evades the questions th a t betray R o se’s insecurity by providing equivocal answers.
H aving established the w o m an ’s insecurity, P inter m eticulously builds up an atm osphere o f vagueness aro u n d R ose and the room . A p p a ren tly , the room itself, which exists in the here-and-now seems unam bigu ou s. Still, it c a n n o t be ascertained which flo o r it is, w hether or n o t M r K idd is the landlord, w hether the house is full, or, alternatively, w hether R ose and Bert are the only tenants and have no neighbours. T he evasiveness and equivocality o f the people w ho enter the ro om , and th u s un derm ine R o se’s feeling o f security, only com pound “ the elab o rate vagueness ab o u t tim e and place” (H aym an 12).
O n the face o f it, there is no th ing intrinsically im prob able or unreal about the situation th at Pinter depicts on the stage. A nd yet, characteristically, by accum ulating a num ber o f largely realistic details, the d ra m a tist m e t hodically generates and reinforces an atm osphere o f m enace and uncertainty rem iniscent o f K afka-esque style (Esslin 1973, 62). As Esslin suggests:
The silent giant van-driver, the anxious woman clinging to the w arm th o f her room , and the room being situated in a house o f uncertain size, so that it seems suspended between an unexplored basement and a top th at loses itself in a dim, unending flight of stairs, each of these details may in itself be explained away - in accum ulation they create tension and foreboding. (1973, 62)
W ith such finesse and subtlety P inter has conjured up the atm osp here oí apprehensio n th a t suffuses the room and the u n p ro p itio u s w orld outside, th a t the disclosure o f a young couple outside R o se’s d o o r - n o th in g too ex tra o rd in ary - com es to the w om an, and to the audience as well - as disturbing. T h e equivocal story o f the couple - M r and M rs Sands that follows, instead o f relieving the tension, enhances it even further. I he unexpected visitors, w ho, like M r K id d , d isturb R o se’s safe haven, tell her a b o u t their searching for the landlord o f the house an d learning th a t the ro om occupied by R ose and B ert is vacant. To R ose, it seems, the very idea th a t the room , which she regards as hers and cherishes so m uch, should be let is ta n ta m o u n t to a personal tragedy.
H ow ever, the visit o f the Sands is n o t as puzzling and alarm ing as the one announced by M r K idd. T he landlord discloses to R ose th a t the whole weekend he has been bothered by an intruder w ho desires to talk to Rose as soon as her husband is out o f the room . Initially, the prospect of m eeting the stranger in the absence o f her husband appals Rose. U nm oved by the la n d lo rd ’s im ploring to n e, she flatly refuses to see th e m an. How ever, M r K id d ’s disquieting suggestion th a t the m ysterio us visitor m ight call on R ose while Bert is in forces the w om an to com pliance.
As the d o o r opens and a blind N egro w ho calls him self Riley enters, R ose’s reaction is uncanny, perplexingly ferocious. I he w ords she utters are full o f ranco u r, malice, even revulsion; her behaviour betrays trepidation. A pparently unm oved by the spitefulness and insults levelled at him , Riley has a m essage for Rose: “ Y o u r father w ants you to com e hom e (124). A nd then, addressing Rose as Sal, the blind m essenger adds. C om e hom e, Sal” (124).
A t first, R ose dem urs at being called by a different nam e, how ever, in tim e, she bows to R iley’s insistent addressing her as Sal. L ater on, finding the falsity in which she lives unbearable, the w om an confides to the N egro th a t her existence is no t as enviable as she professed in her opening m onologue:
ROSE. I’ve been here. RILEY. Yes.
ROSE. Long. RILEY. Yes.
ROSE. The day is a hump. I never go out. (125)
Such m om en ts o f can d o u r, rejecting poses and false pretences, denouncing m ystification are exceptionally rare in Pinter. T h e last tw o sentences the w ords o f a sim ple and yet im pressive and un forg ettab le confession - are truly poignant.
Shortly after, w hen Bert com es back, for the first tim e in the play, he speaks. In the speech o f som e length th a t he delivers, the m an describes in som e detail the way in which he handled his van on the road:
1 caned her along. She was good. Then I got back. I could see the road all right. There was no cars. One there was. He wouldn’t move. 1 bumped him. I got my road. I had all my way. There again and back. They shoved out of it. I kept on straight. There was no mixing it. N ot with her. She was good. She went with me. She d o n ’t mix it with me. 1 use my hand. Like that. I get hold o f her. I go where I go. She look me there. She brought me back. (126)
T h e ero tic o vertones o f th is vivid relatio n are p a te n t. I'he fa c t th a t, th ro u g h o u t his detailed account, the van - conspicuously B ert’s favourite - is referred to in the fem inine gender as “ she” o r “ h e r” is n o t w ith ou t significance, it seems. It is as if Bert raised the van, his m o st precious possession, to the statu s o f a person, a w om an w ho is acquiescent, easy to co ntro l, subm issive in every way, com pliantly fulfilling his expectations. Interestingly, other cars, possibly perceived by Bert as his rivals on the ro a d , are referred to in the m asculine gender.
U p o n discovering the presence o f a stranger, B ert attacks the intrud er, knocking him dow n and kicking his head against the gas-stove several times. His rage is quenched only when Riley lies still on the floor. T he last th in g the astounded audience see is R ose clutching her eyes and exclaiming: “ C a n ’t see. I c a n ’t see. I c a n ’t see” (126). T he suddenness and the ferocity which con stitu te the trau m a tic finale o f the piece produce a form idable effect. They come as a shock, disturb, even horrify. F urtherm ore, the closing episode ushers in still m ore apparen tly insoluble m ysteries.
T h e effect o f an aw esom e enigm a is achieved, am on g others, by setting the accum ulation o f apparently tra n sp a re n t and u n am bigu ou s details against the shrou d o f secrecy, darkness and obscurity th a t su rro u n d w hat seems to be clearly m arked and distinct. T h u s the w arm , cosy, brightly lit room occupied by R ose is co ntrasted with the cold n igh t outside the w indow, the dam pness o f the basem ent, the m ulti-storeyed building with an arguable n u m b er o f flats and occupants.
M artin Esslin argues th a t the technique em ployed by P inter in this play is rem iniscent o f th a t used, am ong others, by R e m b ran d t and know n as chiaroscu ro (1973, 66). C h iaro scu ro is a style o f p ain ting in which only light and shade are represented. T he artist concentrates on black and white, on the trea tm e n t and disposition o f brighter and d a rk e r m asses in a picture (B row n 384). Sim ilarly, in The R oom the focus is on the ju x tap o sitio n o f light with darkness, o f the apparen tly know n with the cryptic, and effects th a t such c o n tra st produces.
On the one hand, it could be argued th a t the ch a racter o f the black m essenger sheds new light on the play ’s m ain fem ale p ro tag o n ist, on the au ra o f am biguity, m ystery and forebodin g th a t envelops R ose - a w om an w ith obscure past who is terrified o f w hat the fu tu re has in sto re for her. On the o th er hand, however, the arrival o f Riley brings in new questions as regards the ch a racter o f Rose, m ost o f which c a n n o t be answered conclusively. T hus, the am biguity aro u n d the p ro tag o n ist intensifies.
T h e m essenger addresses R ose as Sal. T his m ight im ply th a t the w om an, who now passes for R ose, lives w ith Bert un d er false pretences. Possibly, she attem p ts to draw a veil over her true origin. A ssum ing th a t Sal is sh o rt for S arah, a p o p u lar Jew ish nam e, it m ight be argued, for instance, th a t Rose desires to cover up her being Jewish (Esslin 1973, 68). I he w om an m ight wish to severe her ties w ith w hat she regards as an u n d e r privileged, oppressed o r alienated group; w ith her foreign ro o ts th a t m ake her feel different, inferior, unassim ilated. She m ight seek to rid herself of the u nco m fortable feeling th a t she is like a stranger, an o u tcast from society, a perm an en t outsider. T he troublin g aw areness th a t she shares her life with B ert - living with him under the sam e roof, run n in g his household, taking care o f him - and all this is do n e und er an assum ed nam e which serves to m ask her true identity, or her foreign origin - possibly seen as sham eful, d etestable, o r, sim ply, precarious - entails som e significant im plications.
F irstly, it m ight acco u n t for the w om an’s being so keen to m ake herself as useful as possible, to please and pam per her m an. It m ay also be regarded as an explanation for her having a h o rro r o f the world outside the room , o f being cau ght out, expelled or d epo rted. M oreover, in this light, R o se ’s confessing th a t each day o f her life is a hum p sounds no longer surprising. C o n stan t fear and pressure could, indeed, turn one’s existence into a daunting obstacle race. Significantly, the existential anxiety th a t suffuses P inter’s first play resurfaces in m uch o f the playw right s later w ork.
T he au ra o f am biguity su rround ing the ch a racter ol R ose allows for o th er readings as well. It could be claim ed, for instance, th a t the w om an stems from an affluent family o f high social status. I he fact th a t R ose s
fath er sends a N egro - possibly a servant - with th e m essage adds force to such an interp retatio n . I f the w om an, indeed, belonged to the E stab lis hm ent, her m arriage with Bert H u d d , a van driver w ith a w orking-class b ac kg round, would have been deem ed a m isalliance and frow ned upon. If th a t was the case, the m arria g e presum ably to o k place after the g irl’s elopem ent, against the will o f her father. T h e despair th a t satu ra te s R o se’s days m ight, therefore, result from the fact th a t, in tim e, she com es to realise th a t her m arriage is a m ism atch, th a t she and B ert are in com p atib le together, th a t they operate on different levels o f aw areness.
It is p erhaps w orth focusing on the nam e o f Riley. “T o lead the life o f R iley” (B row n 2601) m eans to lead a com fortab le, pleasant, carefree existence. It is tem pting to assum e th a t the N e g ro ’s suggestive n am e was n o t a result o f a purely random selection b u t ra th e r a conscious choice on the p a rt o f Pinter. T h e m essenger im ploring Rose - o r Sal - to com e back hom e m ight then be seen as attem pting to convince the w o m an to reject the life o f hard sh ip and poverty and re tu rn to her form er, prosp ero u s life.
R ose’s fear and lack o f security m ight have still other motives. Indubitably, R ose, at the age o f sixty, conscious o f her physical in adeq uacy and sensing th a t her younger husband does no t feel sexually attra cted to her, m ay dread th a t B ert will tu rn aw ay from her and deny her his affection. She m ay be terrified o f n o t being regarded as irreplaceable. M oreo ver, the w om an m ay fear betrayal on the p a rt o f Bert, or - w hat is even m o re likely - o f solitude. A nd indeed, B ert’s final m onolo gu e m akes one aw are o f R o se’s failure to satisfy his needs. T h e m an n o longer desires her; clearly, his interest has been shifted aw ay from R ose o n to his van. As Esslin graphically puts it:
The van, which Bert treats as “she,” has ousted [Rose] from his affections. The journey into the winter night becomes an act o f intercourse with its own trium phant orgasm. (1973, 69)
H ardly surprisingly, when confronted w ith such a b la ta n t rejection, Rose feels shattered as the play draw s to an end.
Finally, the possibility th a t R ose - before m arry in g Bert - was a w om an o f loose m o rals w ho lived a life o f debauchery ca n n o t be excluded. N ow , under a new nam e, she is doing her u tm o st to keep her inglorious past secret, fearful o f B ert’s contem pt, rejection or violent reactio n fuelled by his excessive jealousy. T he w om an m ight also have led a do ub le life after she m et Bert - being R ose for her h u sban d and becom ing Sal d u rin g her secret rendezvous w ith o th er m en.
B ert’s vicious reaction to the presence o f Riley deserves focusing on. T he conclusion one is likely to form , w hen observing the m a n ’s brutal
assault on the old, unarm ed, handicapped N egro, is th a t Bert m ay be m otivated by racial hatred . H is blind fury and the exclam ation: "Lice! (126) th a t he bellows ou t m ake his abo m in atio n b latan t. H ow ever, there ap p e ar to be other, equally possible, explanations for B ert’s attac k . His actions m ay be read as seeking to prevent a hostile in tru sio n u p o n his household. It seems probable th a t Bert reacts so violently to w hat he perceives as an attem p t by R ose’s family to steal his w om an from him. F u rth erm o re , suspecting R o se’s unfaithfulness, he m ay wish to put an end to her double life.
Interestingly, B ert’s fit o f rage reveals a new face o f this so far silent, subdued, passive, virtually inert person, characterised by an alm ost childlike dependence on Rose. It tu rn s o u t, quite surprisingly, th a t behind this ostensible calm ness and passivity one can discover great strength, atrocity o r possessiveness. W hen threatened, Bert tu rn s callous and savage. Rose, by c o m p ariso n , so lo q u acio u s, dynam ic and do m in eerin g a ch a ra c te r, m onopolising the beginning o f the play, ap p ears to be extrem ely vulnerable, powerless, totally at the m ercy o f her tyrannical husband. Once again, it appears, P in ter has succeeded in annihilating o u r assum ptions concerning the n atu re o f the characters in The R o o m ; once again, he has m anag ed to prove th a t hardly anything in his w ork can be tak en for granted.
P in ter’s ch aracters can be discussed in realistic term s. I he task of providing a ratio n al explanation for their actions is truly dem and in g, but even so, in m an y cases, it seems viable. Still, m an y critics, in their discussions o f the m ystification, m enace, sinister and puzzling am biguity su rro u n d in g the ch aracters, suggest th a t they m ay be identified m o re precisely and interp ret various P inter characters sym bolically. A lrene Sykes argues:
Although Pinter firmly denies that he uses symbolism in his plays, it is very difficult, in our symbol-conscious age, to avoid reading symbolism into them. (11)
F requ ently, the tem p tatio n to explain a P inter ch aracter sym bolically seems truly irresistible. T he character o f Riley ap pears to be a case in point. T he in tro d u ctio n o f the figure o f the N egro, w hose sym bolism is too obtrusive, is perceived by M artin Esslin as the m a jo r w eakness o f the play:
It is only the use of the perhaps too overtly symbolical and poetic figure of the blind Negro which might be felt as a break in style: for whereas in the rest of the play the dream -like and poetic quality arises directly from the realistic detail, here we are confronted alm ost with a cliche m etaphor, an allegorical figure from a different - a neo rom antic or pre-Raphaelite genre. (1973, 65-66)
W hereas the room , the relationship between the coarse and b ru tish husband and his sensitive, em otional, dejected wife, h aunted by the prem o n itio n of danger and existential fears, can be seen in entirely realistic and psychologically accu rate term s (Esslin 1973, 66), the character o f Riley clearly calls for a different app ro ach . T h e blind N egro, w ho em erges from the basem ent w ith the m essage from R o se’s father, seems to in tro d u ce a false n o te into this otherw ise realistic piece o f d ra m a as his app earan ce and his m ission m ore th an invite a sym bolical reading.
Riley is like an u nearthly creature, a p h an to m , a being o u t o f this w orld. H e is som ew hat o f “ an em issary from the outside w ho has succeeded in breaking into the circle o f light;” w ho has destroyed the w om b and drove the dwellers aw ay from the light into the d arkn ess (H inchliffe 46). T h e N egro is seen, am ong others, as sym bolising R o se’s p ast o r som e hidden guilt complex (Hinchliffe 46); as a messenger o f d eath or, alternatively, R ose’s dead fath er (Esslin 1973, 68). L inking Riley w ith d ea th seems inescapable. T he ch a rac te r’s m ost conspicuous “ a ttrib u te s” - his blackness and blindness - u nquestionably u nderpin such an allegorical in terp retatio n ; b o th blackness and blindness are com m only read as sym bols o f death . In this light, R ose’s fear o f losing her room m igh t be in terp reted as the w o m an ’s fear o f passing aw ay, and the arrival o f the black m essenger as the signal o f the im pending d eath. C onsequently - if one follows the sym bolic strand - the fact th a t R ose loses her sight could suggest her death. Im p o rtan tly , the various interp retatio n s o f R ose’s anxieties are n o t m utually exclusive. H er existential fear m ay well coalesce w ith the fear o f losing her m an; one level o f interp retatio n does n o t preclude th e plausibility o f others.
U ndou btedly, the a u ra o f am biguity th a t pervades P in te r’s plays and envelops his characters is closely related to the playw right’s verbal im agination and generated prim arily by the language th a t his ch aracters use. A rnold P. H inchliffe suggests th a t P inter belongs to a g rou p o f d ra m a tists who:
. . . have discovered the language of a cliche as a stage device, revealing to audiences that an apparently meticulous reproduction of “real” conversation produces a result more striking in many ways than either verse or attem pted N aturalism . (42)
Indeed, for the m o st p a rt, the language o f P in ter’s The R oom seems to be a fairly accurate repro d u ctio n o f everyday conversation, th e m ain difference consisting, perhaps, in a higher con ten t o f m etap h o rical significance th a t one feels tem pted to attrib u te to the language o f the play.
Pondering over the language o f P in ter’s characters in general, Jo h n Bowen m aintains, quite rightly it seems, th a t they d o n o t use language to show th a t it does no t w ork, b u t ra th e r “ as a cover for their fear and loneliness. T hey m ove each in his separate p riso n ” (H inchliffe 42). F o r the
first tim e, the audience is confronted with such characters - figures isolated in their own, self-imposed prisons who w ant to keep themselves to themselves in The Room. As the play opens, one can sense the loneliness pervading the piece; Bert is isolated by his silence. R ose is hedged in w ithin the apparently safe, w om b-like world o f her own co nstruction .
In his article “ Between the Lines,” P inter suggested th a t it would be fallacious to say th a t w hat happens in life, and in his plays, is failure to com m unicate:
I think that we communicate only too well, in our silence, in what is unsaid, and what takes place is continual evasion, desperate rearguard attem pts to keep ourselves to ourselves. Communication is too alarming. (Hinchliffe 43)
T he language o f the characters in The R oom seems to co n stitu te a good exam ple o f w hat P inter m ight have had in m ind when v enturing this com m ent. In the course o f the play we are frequently exposed to a calculated, skilfully plotted repro d u ctio n o f inconsequentiality, co ntrad ictio n s, rep etiti veness, and confusion, which, to P inter, are all typical o f everyday life. M oreover, and perhaps m ost im portantly , P inter m ultiplies “ soundless” periods, con fronting us w ith the ch aracters’ reticence, pauses, silences th a t echo everyday speech and suggest an inability, or, m ore pro b ab ly , unw il lingness to com m unicate.
G uido A lm ansi and Sim on H en derson suggest th a t language in Pinter becom es “ the m ost sophisticated m eans o f no n -co m m u n icatio n ” (22). I he playw right m akes his heroes and heroines use a m eretricious, deviant, perverse language; a language w ell-adjusted to con cealing reality. 1 he clum siness o f the m onologues o r dialogues is n o t accidental. M o st Pinter protagonists - m asters o f strategy — purposely co n trib u te to the obfuscation around them . A pp aren tly co n trad icto ry , repetitious, oblique and evasive utterances serve to hide som ething. A rguably, the characters also lie, to o th ers o r to them selves, so as to conceal the tru th or because “ they no longer know tru th ’s tru th fu l ab o d e” (A lm ansi 20).
Rose opens a gallery o f P inter characters w ho cultivate th eir isolation. F o r the w om an, the room stands for a safe place sheltering her from other people. H er m o nologue m akes this security, or ra th e r her need o f security, evident. A t one p oint she says:
If they ever ask you, Bert, I’m quite happy where I am. We’re quiet, we re all right. .. And we’re not bothered. And nobody bothers us. (103)
T he re m a rk is telling. R ose is do ing her best to preserve the separateness th a t she has m eticulously created intact. T h a t is why she is w ary o f all the visitors in her household, perceiving them as in tru ders, as a th re a t to
her isolation. F o r all her ostensible verbosity, the w om an , in fact, clings to her reserve. Follow ing closely a conventional p attern o f idle conversations, she m anifestly resists any real involvem ent into the affairs o f o th er people, preferring to hide behind th e verbal, an d em otio nal b arrier she has erected against the dem ands o f hu m an relationships.
T here is neither u n d erstan d in g n o r intim acy - in tru th , there is no real co n tac t at all - betw een R ose and Bert. Isolated by the wall o f co n tin u al ch atterin g, R ose is clearly im pervious to com m unication. O n the face o f it, in the b reak fast scene, the garrulous m other-figure seeks to develop som e ra p p o rt with her laconic partn er. H ow ever, by piling up th e n um b er of utterances and posing questions to which she already know s the answ ers, o r which are beyond answ ering, R ose, in fact, fully succeeds in evading co n tact, in shunning m eaningful com m unication. P aradoxically as it m ay sound, it is the m edium o f language th a t proves here th e suprem e obstacle to com m unication. T h e w ords uttered by R ose resem ble “ b arb s to protect the wired enclosure o f the s e lf ’ (A lm ansi 12).
R ose’s speech validates, it seems, one m o re assu m ption con cernin g the language the characters use. E m phatically, language in P inter tu rn s into a successful m ethod o f averting silence “ w ith its dread ful p ro sp ect o f being left face to face with o n e s e lf’:
.. .the Pinterian language becomes the tactical instrum ent o f one’s own cowardice, a camouflage behind we hide not necessarily w hat we are but w hat we fear or suspect we might be. (Almansi 12)
D espite its considerable length, R ose’s ram bling m o n o lo gu e is hardly revealing or inform ative. R a th e r th a n dispel o u r d o u b ts and eradicate the am biguity, it com pounds th e m ystification. Typically o f P inter, neith er o f the facts R ose is talking ab o u t can be tak en as necessarily tru e o r false. Like m ost statem ents o f fact in the d ra m a tist’s w ork they are beyond verification. O n the basis o f the evidence P inter offers, one is n o t in a position to confirm , or, conversely, negate any o f them .
P in ter’s m astery o f the dialogue is evident already in this early piece. E ach o f the ch aracters on the stage is endow ed w ith his or her own distinctive idiolect. T h e first in tru d er w ho invades R o se’s seemingly safe hiding place is M r K idd. T h o u g h he engages in a con v ersatio n w ith the w om an, he does n o t com m unicate anything. T he m an speaks equivocally a b o u t the layout o f the house, the num ber o f occup ants, his p aren tag e or origin. T h e ch ief p u rp o se o f this digressive d ialo g u e seems to be to m isinform and baffle ra th e r th an to elucidate. His shifty, vague, self co n trad icto ry responses to R o se’s questions puzzle the w o m an as well as the audience.
It could be argued th a t the repetitiousness and the way the dialogue tacks back on itself b etray P in te r’s indebtedness to B eckett (Ila y m a n 13). H ow ever, it needs to be stressed th a t already in this play P in te rs distinctive style w ith its dialogues in which questions and answ ers do no t m eet each o th er squarely begins to crystallise. In ad d itio n to the com ic effect, such peculiar exchanges enhance th e atm o sp h ere of o b fuscation aro u n d the persons engaged in conversations. A pp aren tly , pre occupied w ith their ow n lines o f th o u g h t and frequently m issing their cues, P in te r’s characters are far from being intent on m eaningful co m m u n icatio n . T h e co n v ersatio n betw een R ose and M r K id d is a case in point:
ROSE. W hat about your sister, M r Kidd? M R K ID D . W hat about her?
ROSE. Did she have any babies?
M R K ID D . Yes, she had resemblance to my old mum, I think. Taller, of course. ROSE. When did she die then, your sister?
M R K ID D . Yes, th a t’s right, it was after she died that I must have stopped counting. She used to keep things in very good trim. And I gave her a helping hand. She was very grateful, right until her last. She always used to tell me how much she appreciated aJl the - little things - that I used to do for her. Then she copped it. I was her senior. Yes, I was her senior. She had a lovely boudoir. A beautiful boudoir.
ROSE. W hat did she die of? M R K ID D . Who?
ROSE. Your sister. Pause.
M R K ID D . I’ve made ends meet. (109)
T h e Sands, w ho call up o n R ose afterw ards, indulge in verbal battles w hich inject the play w ith com edy. A nd yet, the com ic in P in te r is invariably tinged with disquiet, behind laughter there lurks a th ie a t. ih e ostensibly irrelevant and inconsequential bickering betw een M r S ands and his wife, in fact, plays a significant role in the piece intensifying the obscurity hovering over the house and its inhab itants.
T h e equivocality, obfuscation and inconclusiveness ch aracterisin g M r K id d ’s answ ers to R ose’s persistent enquiries, the confusion and obscurity o f M rs S an d s’ story, the linguistic pow er-struggles betw een the younger couple - all these intensify the a u ra o f awe and generate anxiety in R ose s m ind. T he woolly syntax — particularly noticeable in th e speech of M rs Sands - w orks well to reinforce the tension and vagueness.
F u rth erm o re , R o se’s verbal assault directed against Riley, the third in tru d er, is bew ildering and the accusations levelled a t him are, at times, obscure:
RILEY . My name is Riley.
ROSE. I d o n ’t care if it’s - W hat? T h a t’s not your name. T h a t’s not your name. Y ou’ve got a grown-up woman in this room , do you hear? Or are you d eaf too? Y ou’re not d eaf too, are you? You're a ll d e a f and dumb and blind, the lot o f you. A hunch o f cripples.... Oh, these customers. They come in here and stink the place out [italics mine], (122-123)
E xposed to such obscure rem arks, denied any assistance from the a u th o r, left to th eir own resources, the audience have no altern ative bu t to hazard guesses and form conjectures.
T h e device o f linguistic contrad ictio n s - one o f the hallm ark s o f P inter's w riting developed in his later plays - app ears for the first tim e in The
Room. T h e device involves presenting the audience with statem ents th a t are
given im p ortan ce until d o u b t is throw n on them by a n o th e r ch aracter, or, no t infrequently, by the speaker him self o r herself. M r K id d ’s puzzlingly self co n tra d icto ry statem ents ab o u t the house th a t he is in charge of, or R o se’s casting a shadow o f d o u b t on w hat the lan dlord says, show the device at w ork. J o h n Russell T ay lo r rightly po in ts out:
The technique o f casting d o u b t upon everything by matching each apparently clear and unequivocal statem ent with an equally clear and unequivocal statem ent o f its contrary . . . is one which we shall find used constantly in Pinter’s plays to create an air of mystery and uncertainty. (325)
A p leth o ra o f questions th a t this com pact, yet densely textured piece poses, encourage the audience, kept by the playw right in “chasm s of igno ran ce” (Sykes 12) to indulge in speculations. A s usual, P inter proves “ relu ctan t to provide a dossier on an y o n e” (Sykes 9), and thu s no one know s w hat precisely impels R ose’s actions; her m otives are suppressed, veiled in secrecy. U narguab ly, there is no single reading o f The R oom and the m ystery surro u n d in g its characters is op en to any n u m ber o f in te r pretations. In fact, the variety o f possibilities seems to be one o f the p lay ’s greatest assets. M a rtin Esslin rightly argues:
The poetic quality o f such work springs, precisely, from the multiplicity of possible approaches, the ambivalence and ambiguity of the images of which it is composed. (1973, 68)
A m ong the m ost im p o rtan t questions th a t The R oom leaves one w ith seems to be - is it at all plausible to b reak th ro u g h the a u ra o f am biguity and un earth the tru th ab o u t an o th er person?
R ose opens a gallery o f P in ter’s m other-figures: heroines w ho com e across as am biguous, whose past and future rem ain vague, whose puzzling ac tio n s on th e stage p ro v o k e an intense specu latio n an d a ra n g e o f responses. Y et, it seems th a t the very fact th a t P in te r’s w om en escape easy
classification can be regarded as the d ra m a tist’s success; his plays atte st to the fact th a t “ full do cum en tatio n o f a ch aracter has n o th in g to do with success o f ch aracterisation, often lack o f details can be an asset” (Sykes 30). P in te r’s “ W riting for the th e a tre ” can be seen as the p layw rig ht’s attem p t to validate the presence o f am biguity in his w orks and to justify the seemingly im penetrable n atu re o f his protagonists:
We d o n ’t carry labels on our chests, and even though they are continually fixed to us by others, they convince nobody. The desire for verification on the p art of all o f us, with regard to our own experience and the experience of others, is understandable but cannot always be satisfied.... A character on the stage who can present no convincing argum ent or inform ation as to his past experience, his present behaviour or his aspirations, nor give a comprehensive analysis o f his motives is as legitimate and w orthy o f attention as one who, alarmingly, can do all these things. (11)
E ndow ed with m aternal qualities, yet childless, the fem ale p ro tag o n ist of
The R oom lavishes m otherly care on her m ale partn er. N o t infrequently,
in her overbearing m an n er and overw helm ing solicitude, the w om an appears a u th o rita ria n and possessive. O n the o th er han d , u nd er the facade of firm ness, resolution and robustness, she w ithholds vulnerability, a sense o f guilt, obscure anxieties, secret desires. F u rth erm o re , parado xically as it m ay seem, alth ough R ose is conspicuously loquacious, her inescapable featu re is equivocality. It is so because, in fact, she proves im m une to com m unication. By em ploying various linguistic devices, the w om an succeeds in keeping those around her, as well as the audience, at a safe distance. P in te r’s language - “ a language o f escapist m an o eu v rin g ” (A lm ansi 19) - serves to reinforce the am biguity aro u n d his protagonists. T he audience m ust be invariably vigilant, paying heed to “ the m ercurial wriggles” o f the voluble heroine; to “ the unexpected tw ist, the sham eless co n tra d ictio n , the dazzling non sequitur, which are smuggled into the territo ry o f a slow an d app arently dull co n v ersatio n ” (A lm ansi 19).
D epartm ent o f Studies in English D ram a and Poetry University o f Łódź
WORKS CITED
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