Hand in Unlovable Hand

 So much can be said of the drama Death of a Salesman by Arthur Miller, enough that it is hard for me to find where to start in writing about it. There is, again, much to be said about watching the film adaptation as well: seeing the scenes unravel, hearing the lines delivered, and most of all, feeling the pain that pervades every inch of the text.

Truthfully, I think this aspect of the film is the very reason that I cannot articulate exactly how I feel about it. Those who know me well enough know that I am not often at a loss for words. This is true even more so through writing, as evident through my lengthy, self-aggrandizing blog posts (I'm only a little sorry). But here, I find it difficult to express precisely how I feel about Biff Loman, because I know his pain. 

I don't talk about pain. I leave blanks in my writing, gaps in conversation, chasms of words left unsaid. I like to think to myself that many people before -- and surely, after -- my time will write about pain much more profoundly, much more eloquently, that I need not even try. One day, perhaps I will try.

But today I will use someone else's words.

William Styron once wrote, "It is hopelessness even more than pain that crushes the soul." 

Hope is a funny thing, you know? I think Biff had long held hope for a lot of things. He had hope that he would one day find his place in life; hope that his brother would, for once, take life seriously and follow suit; hope that his father would believe in him as an individual, or at least return to the man who raised him in childhood; and hope that his mother would realize exactly who she was defending so tirelessly. Willy, too, had endless hope, although much more deluded. In the penultimate scene of the film, we watch this hope unravel. Every ounce of hope that had been holding this family together for years melts away, leaving unspoken truths (or at least some of them) in its wake, and it clearly destroys Biff. He ends up on his knees, sobbing in his father's arms. 

This "soul crushing hopelessness" abates quickly, leading to the end of the film, but the intensity of that scene demands to be felt (not to inadvertently quote John Green, that "pain demands to be felt"). It is full of the anger, of the pain that can only be felt by a child done wrong by a parent.

 This ugly, heart wrenching expression of grief reminds me a lot of The Mountain Goats' song "No Children."

And I hope when you think of me years down the line

You can't find one good thing to say

And I'd hope that if I found the strength to walk out

You'd stay the hell out of my way

I am drowning

There is no sign of land

You are coming down with me

Hand in unlovable hand

And I hope you die

I hope we both die

After years of never being able to make him happy, never being good enough, Biff can only feel one certain way. And most of it is hopelessness. He just... gives it all up: "I'm nothing. I'm nothing, pop, can't you understand that? There's no spite in it anymore. I'm just what I am, that's all" 

This song evokes that hopelessness and anger and resentment and grief that Biff has to deal with at the end of the film. It is unrelenting and all-consuming. Personally, I like to imagine him screaming these lyrics to his father instead. 

Indiana, Pennsylvania. Where my parents' dreams for me surely died, and I surely let them.