The function of the role of the Fool in King Lear is no more than the choric function fulfilled by the chorus in The Burial at Thebes. Discuss.

In Classical Greek Tragedy, the chorus is a harmonised, objective mass of performers who comment with a united voice on the unfolding dramatic action within the play. In Shakespeare’s King Lear, the role of the Fool effectively fulfills this function through his mannerism and conduct, bemusing idioms and puzzling proverbs. However, there are certain aspects of his role that elevate him above the traditional Greek choric position within The Burial at Thebes.

Within his essay, Lear, Tolstoy and the Fool, George Orwell commented on the role of the Fool and his function within King Lear :

“The Fool is integral to the play. He acts not only as a sort of chorus, making the central situation clear by commenting on it more intelligently than the other characters, but as a foil to Lear's frenzies. His jokes, riddles, and scraps of rhyme, and his endless digs at Lear's high-minded folly, are like a trickle of sanity running through the play”

Orwell argues that the role of the Fool is similar to but ultimately more than that of the chorus in Classical Greek theatre. Although the Fool does not contribute to the structure of the play, as the chorus does, he nevertheless suitably fulfills the choric function. However, the play shows him to be much more of a though-provoking and challenging character than the chorus. This causes his role to be more significant and intriguing as a result.

One of the main functions of the chorus was to offer plot exposition and to dwell upon the themes of the play; emphasising them for the audience’s sake. Through a series of choral odes, the chorus in The Burial at Thebes underlines the central, thematic context of the play. For instance, the chorus consider the nature of fate and its reparations – resonating through generation after generation. They state, “That [Antigone’s] family is going to feel the blow / Generation after generation. / It starts like an undulation underwater… / Then turns itself into a tidal current”. The Fool, in King Lear, serves a similar purpose in so far as he constantly comments on the fundamental issues arising within the subtext. For example, the Fool makes reference to the unnatural behaviour of Lear’s malevolent daughters and remarks on the theme of ungrateful children. He tells Lear, “The hedge-sparrow fed the cuckoo so long, / That it’s had it head bit off by it young” (I, iv, 205-206). Despite, however, the Fool fulfilling this aspect of the choric function, he does so with a rather biting, satirical edge. The Fool was given liberty to comment on society and the actions of his social superiors, giving the Fool a subversive and somewhat sardonic potential, contrary to that of the Greek chorus in The Burial at Thebes. This makes his character, and his role, more interesting than the chorus as a result.

The Greek chorus often acted as audience surrogates, questioning the other characters' motives or warning them about the consequences of their actions. However, they did so in a compliant, acquiescent manner that would appease both sides. In The Burial at Thebes, the chorus acts as a public arbitrator; although being careful not to transgress their position and anger their superiors. In the scene in which Haemon questions his father’s ruling, the chorus prefers to strike a balance between opposing arguments, stating, “You should take good note, Creon, of Haemon’s words / And he of yours. Both of you say sound things.” In King Lear, the Fool also represents the common man among socially elevated characters. However, through verbal scrutiny and continual gibes at Lear’s principled irrationality, the Fool is more rebellious and hence differing from the obedient chorus. The Fool openly states “ they’ll / have me whipp’d for speaking true, thou’lt have me / whipp’d for lying; and sometimes I am whipp’d for / holding my peace” (I, iv 172-175). He stresses that his efforts are in vain as punishment is unavoidable in his profession. By the Fool showing an awareness of this, Shakespeare once again elevates the Fool’s role above that of the traditional choric one as he displays a level of insight that the chorus would otherwise not possess.

Another way in which the Fool fulfills the role of the chorus is by helping the audience experience catharsis. By focusing on Lear’s peripeteia and hamartia – “thou art an O without a / figure. I am better than thou art now; I am a fool, thou / art nothing” (I, iv, 182-184) – the Fool provokes greater empathy, pity and fear by the audience towards Lear’s predicament. In relation to this, the chorus reminds Creon of his quandary and the futility of his efforts in condemning Antigone as she will never submit to his supremacy – “This wildness in her comes from Oedipus. / She gets it from her father. She won’t relent”. Once again, both the roles of the Fool and the chorus displays similar attributes as both remind the protagonists of their errors and rashness which ultimately lead towards their tragic suffering. However, the Fool’s comments are much more critical and are more personally involved as he expresses a degree of compassion towards other characters and is genuinely concerned for their welfare. Shakespeare presents the Fool as a character of greater profundity than the chorus and possessing a much more complex persona. This strengthens his role and once again, causes it to be more than that of the chorus.

The chorus in The Burial at Thebes provides a great deal of spectacle within the play. Greek theaters were very sparse and special effects were nonexistent. The chorus lent a sense of epic to the setting, granting the play a grandeur it might not otherwise possess. Through a series of interludes, chanted and sung, they provide a summary of the events helping the audience follow the performance. However, this procedural is more of a ritualistic routine in honor of deity and spirituality. In contrast to this, the Fool’s role does not concern itself with religion – unless commenting on Lear’s opposition towards it by relinquishing his title. His role is more involved with providing comic relief and supplying
histrionics with which to entertain rather than provide spectacle.

The chorus is a mask of faceless individuals whom are never named during the course of the play and, like the Fool, are defined by their title. They show no signs of obtaining a disposition or personality; as though devoid of sentiment and feeling. Although the Fool is simply regarded as “Fool”, he is much more psychologically developed than the chorus and possesses a degree of wisdom within his apparent ignorance. He possesses verbal wit and a talent for intellectual repartee. More interestingly, however, he is given depth, emotion and insight by Shakespeare. He “hath much pined away” (I, iv, 70) for Cordelia’s banishment presenting him as a much more empathetic and, ultimately, human character compared to the seemingly unfeeling chorus. Expressed through fables and song, he also displays insight and knowledge of divine and natural order – causing some scholars to suggest he is a foil to Lear. This proves he is a character that surpasses the basic choric
function of the chorus and serves other multiple, imperative purposes in the play.

The Fool does fulfill the choric position, however, as Orwell stated, he also provides a “trickle of sanity running through the play”. The Fool is more concerned with Lear’s blindness; demonstrating a severe lack of discernment, cerebral though and astuteness. The role of the fool is therefore essential towards Lear apprehending his misconduct through constant reminders of his despondent condition and therefore quickening his anagnorisis. This proves his role to be much more than that of the chorus in The Burial at Thebes.

Lear and Creon both fulfil the roles of the tragic hero in their plays. Discuss.

An essay exploring how effective King Lear and Creon (The Burial at Thebes) are portrayed as tragic heroes.


In Aristotle’s Poetics, – a collection of philosophical dissertations on literary and dramatic theory – Aristotle defines tragedy as “an imitation of an action that is serious, complete, and of a certain magnitude”. He also underlines certain characteristics through which a tragic hero must conform. Both King Lear and King Creon excellently adhere to Aristotle’s conception of the tragic hero through their conduct, persona and status. However, it is worth considering that both plays were written almost four centuries apart and that the idea and execution of tragedy is different in each context. The Burial at Thebes was written as a contemporary example of Classical Greek Tragedy and is therefore seen as a ritualistic, ceremonious activity in honour of deity and divinity. King Lear, however, is a Shakespearean Tragedy and was seen solely as entertainment.

Perhaps the key aspect of a tragic hero’s temperament is their hamartia or “tragic
flaw” (although more accurately translated as “tragic error”). King Lear and Creon both display hubris and an overwhelming inflexibility towards choices both considerate and arbitrary. These traits represent their hamartia – their error in judgment that will, according to Aristotle, wrongly generate their own decline but not due to sinful or moral weakness, but instead due to a lack of knowledge or understanding.  Creon’s obstinacy and refusal to change the law condemning the venial sin of burying Polyneices is primarily based on arrogance and an attempt to establish authority. Likewise, as a result of his hamartia – also one of hubris – King Lear rejects any advice given to him, namely by Kent, despite being
aimed to assist Lear in perceiving his predicament in its truest sense:

“in thy best consideration, check

This hideous rashness: answer my life judgment,

Thy youngest daughter does not love thee least.” (Kent I, I, 149-151)

 
Both of these incidents help bring upon the protagonists’ nemesis – the sealing of their fate – wherein the protagonist must suffer severely in order to achieve anagnorisis.
Aristotle emphasises that a tragic hero is one of great noble prestige or of “high” eminence. On a practical level, this causes their peripeteia and catastrophe to be all the more dramatic producing the audience to evoke greater fear and pity on behalf of the protagonist. If they were of common or lower-class heritage, their demise would seem less colossal and the cause-and-effect chain, less spectacular. King Lear and Creon satisfy this requirement as they are both sovereigns with which entails significant responsibility and therefore fulfil another aspect through which Aristotle defines a tragic hero.

The tragic hero, although distinguished, must never be a faultless individual. Witnessing an honourable, virtuous man fall from grace to adversity would seem morally unjust. Similarly, the demise of a wicked, nefarious man would seem appropriate and stimulates neither fear nor sympathy. According to Aristotle, a true tragic hero exists “between these two extremes” – a person who is “neither perfect in virtue and justice”, nor one who “falls into misfortune through vice and depravity”, but rather one who “succumbs through some miscalculation”. King Lear and Creon, although often portrayed in disparaging light, act benevolently despite irrationality, hence conforming to Aristotle’s directives. King Lear divides his kingdom so that “future strife / May be prevented” (I, I, 43-44) intending to attain peace and serenity. Equally, Creon passes the law dictating the prohibiting of the burial of Polyneices, as Polyneices was regarded as a traitor and an “anti-Theban”. Creon believes “Never to grant traitors and subversives / Equal footing with loyal citizens, / But to honour patriots in life and death”. In both cases each monarch makes decisions that prefigure their demise, despite each one being ultimately well intended. As a result, Lear and Creon yet again conform to Aristotle’s regulations regarding the tragic hero.

In order for the tragic hero to experience anagnorisis, he must reach a point of reconciliation with regards to the error of his ways. He must realise the single, major point of corruption that initially caused his downfall, wherein finding redemption – but this is an experience that arrives, inexorably, too late. It is this idea of blindness and the failure to recognise that Aristotle also attaches to the notion of the tragic hero. Once again, King Lear and Creon fulfil this obligation. During the beginning of the play, Creon proclaims the dangers of a “man who has all good advice / And then, because his nerve fails, fails to act / In accordance with it, as a leader should”. This seems ironic considering he “fails to act” upon criticism and counsel offered by a number of characters. Instead, Creon asks “Why am I standing out here like a target? / Why is every arrow aimed at me?”. By regarding advice as judgmental scorn, Creon fails to observe the true nature of his error and as a result, demonstrates a failure of leadership in the process. He has created a totalitarian regime and fails to see himself as Dictator despite Heamon declaring, “There’s no city that belongs in single hands”.

King Lear also displays vast symptoms of blindness and a failure of recognition. Most notably he fails to see through Goneril and Regan’s embellished and fraudulent declarations of love towards their father – “Sir, I love you more than word can wield the matter” (Goneril I, I, 54,). He also fails to see the true intention behind Cordelia’s silence when asked to declare her love for him. She justifiably sees the task as a futile endeavour designed purely to feed his vanity and ego. Despite this, she still confesses her love for him but only in pragmatic, realistic terms and not in embroidered, decorative language that Lear so wishes:

“I cannot heave

My heart into my mouth: I love your majesty

According to my bond; no more nor less” (Cordelia I, I, 90-92)

 
King Lear, as with Creon, does not appreciate the reasoning behind interrogations towards his actions. Instead – such as with Kent – he banishes them for defamation by yelling “Out of my sight” (I, I, 156). This inability to see, or even allow himself to see, the error in his ruling leads to his inevitable demise. King Lear also shows a failure not only to recognise others, but to recognise himself. This idea is reinforced though Regan’s remark of “he hath ever but slenderly known himself” (I, I, 290). Consequence of being blinded, rather pathetically, towards their own acts concerning leadership, authority and pride, both Lear and Creon emphasise the futility of one another’s reign and judgment. This in turn strengthens their rendering of the role of the tragic hero.

Although the plays were written centuries apart, the purpose of the tragic hero remains consistent in both contexts. It acts as a deterrent, cautioning people of a similar position or mentality never to submit to corruption, iniquity or ambition. If so, they shall meet a similarly cruel and hostile fate as that of the protagonist. Through Aristotle’s definition and through critical analysis of each play, it remains quite clear that King Lear and King Creon fulfil the role of the tragic hero. Their personality traits and elements conducting their disposition prove undeniably to be that of a tragic protagonist.

The outsider is condemned by society because he doesn’t play the game

An essay comparing protagonists Holden Cauldfield (The Catcher in the Rye) and Meursault (The Outsider aka The Stranger) on the idea of "playing the game of life".

“Life is a game, boy. Life is a game that one plays according to the rules.”

This advice is spoken by Spenser in The Catcher in the Rye. Holden, of course, ignores this guidance and continues to rebel against “the game”, seeing any conformists towards its “phoney” regulations as insincere. According to Camus, Meursault also “doesn’t play the game” and is absurdly condemned for it as a result whereas Holden never really experiences condemnation. The difference lies in Holden’s choosing of not playing the game and his perception of condemnation. Holden perceives himself to be condemned by society as his self-destructive nature and stunted emotional maturity persuades him that he is an outsider, despite being surrounded by people willing to reach out to him. Holden, of his own volition, chooses not to play the game; Meursault simply isn’t aware that “Life is a game”.

The characterisation of Holden and Meursault shows exactly how they are – or regard themselves as – condemned for not playing the game. Because of Holden’s emotional inarticulacy and his contradictory, confused persona (such as regarding sex: “Sex is something I just don’t understand. I swear to God I don’t”), he believes he is condemned by society for not playing the game when, in actual fact, he is only criticised or pitied and brings it upon himself. For example, Holden chooses to stand “way the hell up on top of Thomsen Hill”, observing the football game as an outsider. Society did not force him to do this, and more importantly, society did not further condemn him for this act of not playing the game.

The characterisation of Meursault shows exactly how he is condemned (albeit, absurdly) by society for not playing the game. Meursault is completely indifferent towards society and is purely concerned with satisfying sensory pleasures.  The inspiration for The Outsider developed from this paradoxical by Camus: “In our society any man who doesn’t cry at his mother’s funeral is liable to be condemned to death”. According to Camus the reason for his condemnation is “simple: he refuses to lie”. “Lying”, Camus states, “is not only saying what isn’t true [but] saying more than is true… saying more than one feels”. Meursault is entirely honest and therefore doesn’t hide his lack of emotion at his mother’s funeral. This indifference challenges social propriety that dictates that one should grieve over the death of one’s mother. As Meursault does not play the game making society sees him as an outsider, a stranger, and even a “monster”, condemning him as a result.

Holden sees the “game of life” as a game only for the privileged. He clearly identifies with those on the “other side” of the game and feels alone and victimized.  But Holden’s sense of disadvantage and acrimony seem somewhat contradictory given his upbringing: a privileged Americana family and prestigious education. However, Holden has created a cynical outlook on world to protect himself from the complexities of the “adult” world. This is an example of how his perception is one of condemnation when in actual fact he is simply given the rules of the game:

“Some game. If you get on the side where all the hot-shots are, then it’s a game, all right – I’ll admit that. But if you get on the other side, where there aren’t any hot-shots, then what’s a game about it?”

Unlike Holden, Meursault genuinely is condemned by society for not playing the game. This is idea is subtly referenced at his mother’s funeral. Meursault develops the impression that everyone is watching and taking note of his every move, ready to criticise his idiosyncrasies. The physical staging of this image is also indicative of his detachment with society. Physically “they were all sitting opposite [him]”, separated and continually watching. He has the insightful yet “ridiculous impression that they were there to judge [him]”, and eventually condemn him. Structurally, this is paralleled later in the novel when Meursault enters the court and first sees the jury: “It was at that point I noticed a row of faces in front of me. They were all looking at me… scrutinizing the new arrival to find his peculiarities.” Again, this draws attention to Meursault’s disconnection and his subsequent condemnation for disregarding the game.

Despite purposely flouting the rules of the game, Holden, like Meursault, is nevertheless deeply detached from society – although never exactly condemned for it. This is symbolised in a number of scenes. The symbol of the red hunting hat is one of the most famous. Holden intentionally wears the hunting hat throughout the novel: “I took my red hunting hat… and put it on – I didn't give a damn how I looked". He does it to individualise himself but is never at any point forced to wear it, despite being conscious that it is out of balance with 1950’s fashion and would have been deemed out of step with societal convention. This symbolises Holden’s detached position, caused by all his own conscious decisions. Holden knows he’s not playing the game, but society does not condemn him for this. Meursault is indifferent to the game and society severely punishes him for his indifference.

In The Outsider, the courtroom is where Meursault is on trial for his life but it also symbolises societal convention. The judge is the self-appointed "moral umpire", determining Meursault’s fate. The jury is representative of society – all players of the game – sent to cast their judgments, and their stones, at Meursault. The trial is symbolic of society’s attempt to rationalise a universe by imposing its own meaning towards situations that fail to conform to convention. The verdict therefore represents society’s rejection of Meursault’s nonconforming ways and hence condemns him as a result of not playing the game.

The language used throughout both texts also shows how Holden and Meursault are condemned (or assumed to be condemned) for not playing the game. Holden constantly comments on his demeanour being “lonesome” and “depressed”, and comments on many things as “phony”. He acts as though he’s condemned by society, when in fact, he never has been. His solidarity is a result of his own desperate actions and fully conscious activities. However, this language is used by Salinger for teenagers in 1950’s America to empathise with. Holden, like James Dean and Marlon Brando, gave a voice to a generation who felt themselves condemned by society’s conventions. This provoked a counter-cultural revolt: a generation of teens who refused to play the rules of the game. Society, however, only criticised these youths for nonconformity. It never exactly condemned them.

In The Outsider, the language is used to show how Meursault doesn’t play the game. The narrative is written in a very cold and clinical style as Meursault doesn’t appear to show any emotion. This is epitomised at the very start: “Mother died today. Or maybe yesterday, I don’t know.” This opening immediately sets the tone of the novel but also shows how detached Meursault is towards his mother, and more importantly, the game itself. He is later condemned for this apathy and said to have “no place in a society whose fundamental rules [he] ignored”.

In conclusion, both Meursault and Holden are isolated from society but Holden brings it upon himself. His fragile and sensitive nature causes him to paradoxically run away from connections he so desperately seeks. Meursault is condemned by society – unintentionally – for not playing the game whereas Holden chooses to ignore it deliberately but is not necessarily condemned by society for this as a result.

A Creative Response to Arthur Miller’s Death of a Salesman and All My Sons.

A short creative response in the style of a follow-up to Arthur Miller's Death of a Salesman and All My Sons where Biff and Chris encounter one another and share intimate memories.

Biff Loman stood over his father’s grave in Greenwood Cemetery, New York. The sun began setting in the distance, silhouetting the Manhattan skyline and covering Brooklyn in a soft orange glow. The crisp, autumnal air numbed his cheeks and a solitary tear slowly fell from his eye, its presence revealed by a little sparkle reflecting the light of the dying sun. It was only then that Biff began to appreciate that he would never see his father again. Until that point he had felt guilty for not shedding a single tear over his father’s death but since then, Charley’s respectful, eulogistic words towards Willy Loman’s memory resonated in his head and he could not contain his anguish any longer.

“Nobody dast blame this man”, he told himself, echoing Charley. “Nobody dast blame this man”. Despite everything, Biff could not bring himself to condemn his father. From Biff’s perspective, his father had been blinded by the totality of the American Dream and more specifically, the commercialisation of it. However, Biff also recognised that this was only due to what his father’s profession had taught him. This was what his profession deluded him into thinking. His father was dead and there was nothing on this Earth that could bring him back.

“I’m sorry, dad”, whispered Biff, barely audible. “If only you’d have listened when I told you. If only you would have taken that dream of yours and destroyed it. Oh why, dad? Why did you have to go and do this?” Biff’s emotions got the better of him before remembering not to blame his father. Biff knew Willy was neither the perfect father nor the idealistic husband, but he was nevertheless a determined one – a father that would support his family at any cost; even if that meant sacrificing his life.

“I… I’m sorry for everything”, continued Biff, with a wisp of regret, “I’m sorry about Bill Oliver. I’m sorry for the way I treated you …and I’m sorry about us. I just…” his voice broke slightly and paused while attempting to control himself but his composure still failed him. “I just can’t believe you’re really gone.”

Biff wiped away his tears. Life suddenly seemed unforgiving and devoid of compassion. His eyes glanced at the memorial flowers at the base of the gravestone which reminded him of his father – a vibrant and colourful exterior that disguised a slow, inevitable death from within. The sun was now gone and the sky was a deep, dejected blue scattered with tiny, faint sources of light. Biff stood alone gazing at them for an unknown amount of time, simply staring; staring and thinking of nothing but his father.

* * *

The sound of the streets of New York became overwhelming for Chris Keller as he laid roses on his father’s grave. The cacophony of the concrete jungle engulfed him; suffocating him and his head began to ache with the pain.

Chris fumbled around in his trench coat pockets hoping to find a cigarette to ease his throbbing head. He found none, but felt the fragile texture of a piece of paper protruding slightly from his breast pocket. Curiously, he put his hand back in his pocket and pulled it out. It was Larry’s letter – Larry’s final attempt at communicating with his family and the embodiment of his final moments on Earth. Chris read it once again only to feel his headache worsening.

Fine rain had begun to fall from the overhanging clouds, striking Chris Keller’s reddened and impassive face. He walked away from the grave, saying one final goodbye and unable to take his mind off his father. He simply walked, unaware where he was going, purely to let his mind reminisce over his memories. He felt desolated, as though he was the only individual to ever live through such an experience. At that very instant, while his mentality was at its lowest, he collided with a stranger solemnly gazing at the night sky. It was Biff Loman.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me,” explained Chris, trying to justify his actions.

“No, it’s my fault. I was in a world of my own there,” excused Biff.

This simple scenario was the only human intervention Chris could remember having for hours. He was so overcome with the disillusionment caused by his father’s death that he decided to simply talk to someone – anyone, even a stranger – but only because he believed it may unburden himself of the pain. “I’m sorry it’s just… I’ve just lost my dad” admitted Chris, “I can’t really believe he’s gone.”

The stranger suddenly seemed more attentive as though something Chris said this man could identify with.

            “He was a good man, my dad” continued Chris, “He always looked out for his kids. Practically everything he ever did he did for his boys. I guess I just never really appreciated that when he was alive.” Chris did not expect this man to care nor indeed concern himself with such an account as this – especially since it had been told by a man attempting to connect with another individual whom he had never met. However, Biff was attentive and responsive on a level Chris had not expected.

Biff was astonished to hear this. He suddenly no longer felt his isolation and quenched his need for connection and empathy.

“Hey, don’t worry about it, kid,” replied Biff. “Believe it or not, I just lost my pop too. I gotta say it feels good to hear from another person who went through the same thing.” Biff pointed to a small, rather trivial headstone with the heading “Here lays Willy Loman, devoted father and beloved husband”.

            “Really?” enquired Chris; not quite believing what he was hearing.

            “Really. He… committed suicide. He was a salesman, you see, although his job taught him these ridiculous values that fooled him into thinkin’ that just being well liked and successful was all you needed to do well in life. That dream of his killed him. Problem was he taught it to me and my brother as well which is why… well look at me, do I look successful? I just wish his funeral was a requiem for that dream as well.”

            “Your father committed suicide?”

            “Yeah, I know what you’re thinkin’ –” said Biff, defending his father’s pride, “Cowardly, huh? But you didn’t know him. He wasn’t like that. He just couldn’t really understand himself or figure out who he was. You can’t blame him for that.”

            “No, no, I mean…” Chris began to slow his speech down and think carefully about what he was saying as he sensed this was clearly a sensitive issue for this man. “…my father committed suicide too.” Biff’s eyes became more focused. “He was pretty delusional” continued Chris, “– not that l hold that against him ‘cause l understand now why he did the things he did… even if he refused to accept responsibility for it.”

“Is that right?” questioned Biff, who seemed captivated at Chris’s every word.

            “Yeah, God’s honest truth. I’m glad to say he came to terms with his mistakes in the end… even if he did take his own life.” Chris decided to tell this complete stranger what his father had done hoping it would make him feel better. “My dad worked as an engineer, you see – used to make engines for planes during the war. He and his partner were to ship out this batch of engines to the military but discovered that they were cracked right at the last minute. Afraid that he might lose his contract, he sent ‘em anyway. When they were caught, he blamed it on his partner and… got off free. Now I know sending them engines out knowin’ they were faulty is a horrible thing to do, not to mention blamin’ it on your partner but… he did it for his family. Everything he did he did for his family.”

Biff was amazed to hear this. Moved by the openness of Chris’s story, he felt it was only fair to tell him about his own father’s flawed nature. “Hey listen kid, I know what you’re going through and I know it ain’t easy.”

“Yeah, tell me about it.”

“My old man did some things he wasn’t proud of as well but he only ever had good intentions… He had an affair with some floozy from Boston which I know is an awful thing to do but he only did it ‘cause it would help improve his sales which meant he could bring home a bigger cheque for his family.”

“I know just how you feel. My dad was just the same. He couldn’t understand that actions have consequences – that there’s always a cause and effect. If you send out cracked air engines, you’re puttin’ people’s lives at risk. I just wish he would have realised that.”

Both men were in awe of each other’s experience and astounded at the similarities between the two. Two complete strangers exchanging deeply personal affairs but gaining invaluable insight from them were rejuvenated by each other’s presence. With Chris standing before him, Biff understood more clearly now than ever the sacrifices his father made for his family as he knew his father was not the only one to do so. Biff acknowledged that his father had bought the subliminal lies that America uses to advertise itself, and the price of this was his death. He saw Willy as a victim but also as a devoted father and his encounter with Chris had helped him come to terms with his loss, now knowing that he is not alone. He knew his father was neither perfect nor indeed particularly ethical; but there was one inalienable characteristic about his persona that was undeniable – absolutely everything he did, he did for his children. He did it for Biff.

Chris knew that his father was a man who simply tried to do well by his family, even at the cost of the lives of 21 men. However Chris, like Biff, was now able to cope with his father’s tragic death much more easily than before, having found another individual whom he can empathise with.

As the stars dotted throughout the night sky seemed brighter and more vivid than ever before, both men left the cemetery that night with a clearer understanding of themselves and more importantly, of their fathers. They were able to view life in a new, profound perspective – a vista previously denied to them. The connectedness of their experiences was uncanny and they now felt connected in the same way.  Each of them had acted as a catalyst for the reconciliation of their relationship with their respective fathers, and they were both eternally grateful for their encounter, a chance night-time meeting that shed light into the dark recesses of their troubled souls.