The Emasculation of Willie and Overall Impotence

The emasculated Kevin Barnes, of Montreal

Happy Days seems to hint at moments of impotence and emasculation. As an artist writes down his (masculine case used in reference of Beckett) words, he transfers all thought of the creative process onto a stone of interpretation. He surrenders his ideas to failing linguistics, as each reader reads, interprets, and perhaps bastardizes his creation. It is indeed total objectification personified through words. His thoughts, his power, his ability to create with his pen (masculine pun) is stripped down and emasculated by the reader. His will is done, only to lose.

Winnie and Willie (Win and Will) sit, or are rather trapped, at the center of this play. Winnie, in Act I, buried up to her hips, and Willie stuck in a hole. I believe this is the first case of a gender-role reversal, and the first hint at impotence. Winnie, the female, is sticking straight up out of the sand, erected (phallic). Willie rests in the bottom of his hole (yonic). Their respective genitalia are personified and reversed.

Winnie is also in possession of a gun, and upon initially removing it from her purse, she kisses it (sexual connotation). A gun, like a penis, has control over life and death, and Willie (perhaps a pun on “will”/its connection with the penis, cf. Shakespeare’s “Sonnet 136”) being impotent, stuck in a hole, cannot be in possession of it.

Winnie and the gun

Winnie, being erect and in possession of the weapon, has complete masculine control over Willie: “Go back into your hole now, Willie, you’ve exposed yourself enough. Do as I say, Willie, don’t lie sprawling in this hellish sun, go back into your hole. Go on now Willie. That’s the man. Not head first, stupid” (Selected Works Vol. III, 280). After Willie “exposes” himself (a sort of sexual revealing attached to “exposed”), Winnie demands he crawl back into the hole, but not head first (I don’t believe in need to make the connection there for you).

There are also a few connections between things that control both life and death: the phallic representations, the sun, the gun, and “earth you old extinguisher” (287). All things (minus the gun) create and give life, but also breed death. A penis creates a death-sentenced being, given too much power the sun can vaporize the earth it warms, and the earth itself can turn into a death-ball of destruction. All things create, breeding death (like writing itself).

Away from that quick diversion, Willie’s impotence is again seen at the end of the play. He goes to shoot Winnie, his master, dominator, but instead he cannot do it – he can’t fire the gun (impotence). Instead, all he can do is crawl up the hill and fall back down it. Winnie smiles, sings, and they stare at each other until the smiles fade in a troubling confusion.   

Winnie and Willie, as told by the Beatles

Two Pieces of Krapp: How I Can Relate to Him

“Perhaps my best years are gone. Where there was a chance of happiness. But I wouldn’t want them back. Not with the fire in me now. No, I wouldn’t want them back” (The Selected Works Vol. III 226)

I normally try to stray away from posts like this, but here comes another personal one. Sorry, I hope you can relate though (but hopefully you can’t).

As a kid, whenever I found myself alone and in total darkness, I would naturally feel afraid. I thought there was something lurking out there in the shadows, some force greater than me, some presence that wanted to harm me. The fear was that I was not alone.

Now that I’m older, I realize I experience a similar fear when in this situation. After intramural games in the SRC, I walk alone back to my dorm by way of the track. Most of the time the track lights are off, absolutely nothing is visible, and all I can hear is the trees rustling. In this “advanced darkness,” my heart begins to race, my muscles tense, and I become afraid. But now it’s for a different reason.

Walking along the track, I remember this same fear that I felt as a kid, a fear of complete submission to the thought of something greater. The only difference was that when I was a kid, there was a sort of hope in the fear, that there was something supernatural near me, something beyond my comprehension. But now at the pretentiously-cynical age of 18 where I think I know everything, the fear has turned from thinking that I wasn’t alone, to knowing that I am alone. In the dark, an overwhelming anxiety comes back to me, reminding me that I am alone all the time and always will be especially in the end where this is all there is and nothing else to hope for. I’m reminded of how temporary my existence is, how unordinary it is, how minimal, insignificant and fleeting it is. Out of all of space and time in this cosmic madhouse of contemplation, these moments so rare will never happen again.

In a losing game where all action is in vain, all motions, thoughts, ideas, experiences, and creations will be lost, it is hard to keep going. I didn’t always feel this way though. Something happened to me, something changed. I think this realization that I had was that I finally arrived at the fact that this is all there is, and it’s all a lost cause. Before I had this revelation though, I was typically much happier, more satisfied, and optimistic. Now, I’m Krapp.

The last sentences of Krapp’s Last Tape were incredibly haunting. For the first time, everything I had been turning over in my head since that fatal age of 15 when I first picked up Nietzsche, all the thoughts I had contemplated, all the fears I had to realize, were presented to me in four simple sentences. The profundity of such an immaculate understanding of the human condition amazed me. It scared me as well. Something hit me that hadn’t hit me in a while. I believe the last time it did, I was looking at my little brother and sister (then 7 and 5) and broke down crying hysterically. To realize this was the only time in eternity that I would ever be able to spend with them, that they would die, grow up, and be unhappy horrified me. I realized myself perhaps my better days are behind me now. Back before this realization there was a chance of happiness. But I don’t want those days back, I wouldn’t want those days back. Now there’s some fire in my and I don’t fully understand what it is but it’s there.

I’m not sure if it’s possible for me now to ever be truly happy again. To constantly be aware that this is it, and it’s all a losing game, and everyone and everything will lose, is a hard thought to swallow. It’s overwhelming and at times unbearable (but thank the heavens we have whiskey and gin). But this realization in me, has inspired something. I can’t go back to the days before, I don’t want to. Although it’s a heavy burden and melancholic (and I know, I know, mostly melodramatic), it’s something profound. Something everyone needs to realize at some point in their lives to fully authenticate their existence (in my own, unqualified opinion). It’s a realization so intense, so overpowering, that all you can do upon figuring it out is stare out into the distance, and let the tape roll on in silence. But after that you go on, no you can’t go on, but you must go on. Old endgame lost of old, play and lose and have done with losing.

There is something greater than me though, something incomprehensible, but perhaps that's the real fear, that I'll never understand it. But to truly appreciate this rare and unfortunately fortunate existence, you need to realize this is it and this is all there is (hopefully I'm wrong). At that point, you can really begin to understand, appreciate, and forgive everything and everyone around you in their powerless strive for understanding and importance. It's all vain, and a little solipsistic, but if this is all there is, at least it's all there is. 

Know happiness. 

Oh, Krapp, it's Coldplay.