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The Liberty of Choice in “East of Eden”

In a largely democratic world, freedom is an inherent right of every man – the right to decide upon his life and pursue his goals freely. The question is, however, to what extent one’s life can be considered controllable and not driven by fate? How much freedom does one actually have over their life? These are the kinds of “dilemmas” that haunted humanity from the very beginning – perhaps prompting the search for a higher power and fostering the belief that there’s some sort of a greater purpose in simply “not knowing”.

As one might imagine, freedom is an intricate concept that, despite occupying a significant place at the core of society, to this day remains widely misunderstood and often oversimplified. It’s this very theme of the “liberty of choice” that the movie directed by Elia Kazan, based on John Steinbeck’s novel – “East of Eden” – revolves around. The story is set in Salinas Valley, California, in the early 20th Century – right before the first World War. The main character, Cal, starring James Dean, is a troubled son of a ranch owner, Mr Trask, who’s struggling to meet his father’s expectations, living in the shadow of his brother, Aron – who as Mr. Trask claims, he has “always understood”. Cal’s introduced to the audience as the troublesome kid who acts impulsively, out of reason, and leads a solitary lifestyle – he’s hiding away from people, sneaking around, jumping on trees, and train wagons – which visibly concerns those around him. His father yells at him for sneaking out of the house, his brother’s gilfriend, Abra, calls Cal a “prowler”, and frequently mentions that she’s afraid of him. He can’t help but feel unseen and misunderstood by his relatives – viewing himself as the “rotten one” in his family, the black sheep among its kin. He channels his frustration by acting mindlessly, setting out onto the vicious path of self-destruction. For instance, when asked by his father about him sneaking into the freezer and throwing out all the ice intended for Mr. Trask’s “refrigerating business”, Cal simply answers that he wanted to see it “go down the chute.” “Cal, listen to me.” – announces his father – “You can make of yourself anything you want. It’s up to you. A man has a choice. That’s where he’s different from an animal.”

In the spur of the moment, Cal implores Mr Trask for the truth about his mother, only to uncover that she had fled to the east shortly after his birth. Without telling anyone, he begins the search for his mother, hoping to find answers and reach the awaited closure, accepting it as the reason why he’s different. Once he manages to find her, he discovers the real motive that led her to run away from Salinas. She admits that she was unhappy in her marriage, feeling caged, and eventually, chose freedom – a life of independence, not dictated by anyone else. Finally finding purpose, motivated by the “liberty of choice”, Cal resolves to reconcile with his father and support him in his refrigerating business, which, as Mr. Trask believes, will prove to be “revolutionary”. “It’s not about making profit, Cal.” – he declares, driven by the pure desire to commit something impactful for society, something lasting, of immeasurable value. Despite his efforts, the business quickly collapses and our main character, eager to continue his newfound journey, finds himself working to repay Mr. Trask the lost funds. He starts his own business from scratch, and when he finally manages to earn the money back, his father declines the grand gesture, explaining that he wished Cal’d given him something of genuine value – something, such as Aron’s and Abra’s engagement, which happened to be announced on the same day. The following turn of events reaches a tragic culmination when Cal loses his temper and suddenly reveals to his brother the secret behind their mother’s “death”. Aron finds himself unable to cope with truth and rapidly spirals into mental distress, adopting a new vulgar behavior – he’s engaging in street fights and decides to enlist in the military for the impending war. Taken aback by Aron’s “out-of-character behavior,” Mr. Trask suffers a heart attack, leaving him tied up to his bed like a vegetable, unable to speak or move. Ironically, both his “revolutionary” business and Aron’s future crumbled, unable to withstand the test of time – the years of striving toward a greater goal turning into dust. Similarly, Cal, who rose to achieve his goal through a deliberate choice, discovered himself powerless in the face of his father’s insensitivity – his money couldn’t buy love, it couldnt liberate him from the persistant feeling of being the family’s dissapointment.

The story of the Trasks in “East of Eden” sets a powerful example of the profound ways in which the freedom of choice can affect one’s life. In the spirit of the American Dream of the 1900s, the characters in the film express a strong belief that complete independence is the key to a happy and successful existence. Cal’s father maintains the belief that an individual’s destiny relies on their choices – there’s an unlimited array of opportunities out there, each one with the power to change one’s life. Conversely, Cal’s mother believes that even if a choice results in loss, it remains worthwhile as long as it is an independent decision. Aron, Cal’s brother, makes a choice that compromises all his prior life decisions, including the good education and the engagement with Abra. Lastly, Cal strives to make a meaningful choice and become a greater person in his father’s eyes. Yet, he fails miserably, as Mr. Trask fails to see between the lines – he’s unable to detect the value in his son’s hard work, and discern the deeper meaning.

While all these characters consciously make free decisions, they seem completely obsolete towards the so-called “natural ways of life”. The fabric of existence is uncertain, shaped by the intricate interplay of our individual choices. In a way, we all shape each other’s decisions. Despite perceiving them as independent, it is often these “freely made” choices that impose the most significant constraints on our personal freedom. Of course, it’s important to have a choice – it prompts us to account for different possible outcomes, and acknowledge our full potential. Yet, sometimes the abundance of choices leads us to make poor decisions, as we’re driven by the thrill of unrestricted freedom and opportunity. A man does have a choice. Yet, he should use it wisely.

The Smell of Mendacity in “Cat on a Hot Tin Roof”

As Oscar Wilde once put it, “The truth is rarely pure and never simple”. It stands as an ongoing dilemma – whether it’s better to know the “whole truth”, no matter how hard it might be, or live in a lie, unharmed by the viciousness of reality. Some say “ignorance is bliss”, while others maintain that “the truth will set you free”. Ultimately, it all comes down to whether one accepts the comfort of not knowing, or whether one takes the risk of losing it in the pursuit of truth.

These two contradictory uptakes on the idea of truth are the central topic that the movie “Cat on a Hot Tin Roof” encapsulates. The classic of cinema, based on a play by Tennessee Williams, contemplates the two-faced nature of truth that’s painful and nerve-wracking, but when kept hidden for too long, resurfaces with increased strength, bringing out the worst in the character – the filthiest of all flaws, and the darkest of desires. The plot revolves around a wealthy Southern family, gathering home at the Mississippi plantation to celebrate the birthday of “Big Daddy’s” – the head of the family. One of the very first people the audience is introduced to is Gooper (Big Daddy’s son) and Mae, or “Sister Woman”, as often referred to by the patriarch. They’re portrayed as the “conventional couple” – with multiple, “well-fed” children, with Gooper being a successful lawyer, and Mae playing the role of a devoted mother and wife. This image of a perfect American couple is contrasted against the not-so-perfect, crumbling marriage of Maggie and Brick (Big Daddy’s second son). In an attempt to fool others, along with herself, Maggie desperately tries to play the part of the loving, “trophy” wife by talking about having children soon and by cozying up to the “birthday man”, who’s vividly charmed by her demeanor. In reality, she despises kids and is having a tough time with her husband – a depressed alcoholic who’s mourning the recent death of his best friend, Skipper. Brick seeks to distance himself from Maggie, feeling put off by her refusal to acknowledge and confront the harsh reality of their troubled relationship. He tries to drown his sorrows in liquor and doesn’t show up to the birthday party, finding himself unable to face the facade of his seemingly perfect American family.

Big Daddy, however, seems to weary of the charade as he rejects his family’s grand gestures and attempts to keep him entertained. Instead, he spends the rest of the night trying to make amends with his troubled son, Brick, seeking to find the root of his drinking problem. “Why do you drink?” – Big Daddy asks him. “Disgust!” – he exclaims, emotional and hopeless, as he breaks down in front of his father. “Disgust with what?!” his father presses, to which he responds simply, “Mendacity.”

As Brick gradually reveals that the reason for his drinking lies in Skipper’s suicide, which he believes he could have prevented, his father confronts him with words – “You didn’t kill Skipper, he killed himself! (…) Mendacity! You won’t live with mendacity but you’re an expert at it. The truth is pain and sweat… and paying bills and making love to a woman that you don’t love anymore! Truth is dreams that don’t come true, and nobody prints your name in the paper till you die…” This pivotal scene marks Brick’s moment of revelation when he becomes truly aware of his self-deception. His disgust with mendacity is a reflection of his deep-rooted disgust with himself – with what he’s become.

First cracks in the picture of the perfect family begin to show, when the real motive for the orchestrated birthday party turns out to be a sole cover-up, meant to conceal the hidden truth about Big Daddy’s declining health – an opportunity for some to curry favor with the dying patriarch and inherit a part of his legacy. “What’s that smell in this room? Didn’t you notice it, Brick? Didn’t you notice a powerful and obnoxious odor of mendacity in this room? There ain’t nothin’ more powerful than the odor of mendacity. You can smell it. It smells like death” – declares Big Daddy as he solemnly walks into the room, looking down on his relatives’ faces. The tension grows as the true motifs behind Gooper’s and Mae’s act of playing the seemingly perfect couple in front of his father emerge from the shadows – “You said I never loved Big Daddy. How would you know? How would he know? Did he ever let anybody love him? It was always Brick, always. (…) Dad wanted me to become a lawyer. I became a lawyer. he said to get married, I got married. He said to have kids, I had kids. he said to live in Memphis, I lived in Memphis. Whatever he said to do, I did.” The theme of mendacity resurfaces once more, laying bare the bottled-up frustration of striving to meet paternal expectations.

The story ends with Maggie announcing that she is with a child, to which Mae, Gooper’s wife, responds by accusing her of lying. Brick backs up Maggie in her claim, and the two depart together to their room. “Maggie, I’m through with lies and liars in this house,” Brick says to Maggie, as he instructs her to lock the door, symbolically marking the start of a new chapter in the couple’s life – a closure to the era of deceit and a conscious embrace of truth.

In “Cat on a Hot Tin Roof”, mendacity plays a central role in the characters’ portrayal. It is hidden in the way they talk, the way they look, and the way they smell. It follows them every step of the way, and when any of them tries to escape it, they come to the striking realization that they can’t. In the plot, mendacity takes on many forms – some of the characters are not aware of their own deceit, since they’re lying to themselves. Brick deceits himself by seeking to escape his problems with alcohol, yet the more emotionally numb and distant he becomes, the stronger the underlying pain, and the urge to reveal his innermost regrets. For Gooper, it’s the belief that by rising to meet societal expectations and establishing himself an image worthy of his father’s respect, he can secure a stable and successful position, coveted by many. In reality, his efforts prove futile, as they appear meaningless in his father’s eyes. Mendacity lies right at the core of the protagonist family which is disintegrated, broken, and filled with deceit. It asserts its presence so strongly that it surrounds the characters like an “obnoxious odor,” akin to the smell of death. Its rotten scent hovers above the characters, haunting them, reminding them that their truth, buried deep within, seeks to get out. At last, Brick decides to back up Maggie in her lie, transforming it into a new truth. The deadly smell of mendacity slowly recedes, as the faint scent of life begins to emerge.

The Symbolism of Light in “A Streetcar Named Desire”

A story can be told in numerous ways. Through the sparkle in the main character’s eyes, through shadows that linger in the background, casting shapes on people’s faces – through the subtle interplay of light and darkness that navigates the plot, gradually revealing some truths while concealing others. “A Streetcar Named Desire,” based on a play by Tennessee Williams, is movie in which light plays a vital role, serving as the narrator of the story, who ultimately decides what should be revealed and what kept hidden.

Light introduces the characters, illuminating their physical features, facial expressions, and the emotions that seem to lie underneath. The protagonist, Blanche du Bois, played by Vivien Leigh, is initially portrayed in dim lighting of her sister’s shabby New Orleans apartment, to which she moved upon trying to escape the haunting “shadows” of her past. When we first meet Blanche, we attain the impression that she’s a delicate and elegant woman, which is acentuated by her reserved, classy demeanor and her fine attire. As soon as she enters the apartment, she expresses disdain and discomfort, as the protagonist’s new home fails to reach her standards and expectations – “What kind of bed’s this – one of those collapsible things?,” says Blanche, referring to her newly assigned bed. She also appears to be very subconcious about her appearance, paying extra attention to her looks – dressing in fur coats and tiaras, bathing for hours, and avoiding to be seen in the glare of light. “Admire her dress and tell her she’s looking wonderful. That’s important with Blanche. Her little weakness!” says Stella on multiple occassions, revealing the vulnerability in her sister’s desire to uphold the fleeting illussion of youth and beauty – the weekness she’s anxious to conceal with refined accessories and shadow.

The dim lighting surrounding Blanche casts a mysterious shadow over her character – a mystery that Stanley, Stella’s husband, is determined to uncover. Stanley’s character is introduced as a dominant and assertive figure, marked by his strong, athletic physique that accentuates his manly presence. Contrary to the portrayal of the protagonist, Stanley doesn’t shy away from the light. Instead, he constantly finds himself at its center – confident, vulgar, and unfazed by the exposure of the brutal truth. Blanche feels threatened by her sister’s husband and keeps persuading Stella that her feelings for him are not rooted in love but in mere desire for the forbidden, rough and upredictable – “What you’re talking about is desire, just brutal desire. The name of that rattletrap that bangs through the Quarter. […] It brought me here. Where I’m not wanted, where I’m ashamed to be”. While trying to escape Stanley’s interrogation, Blanche finds herself fighting some demons from the past. This leads her to open up to Stanley’s colleague, Mitch who happens to be a courteous, elegant man – different from her sister’s vulgar husband and his poker-buddies.

Light is a crucial aspect of Blanche and Mitch’s first meeting, as it brings them closer together, revealing their vulnerabilities and underlying desires. “I can’t stand a naked light bulb any more than I can a vulgar action,” she declares as she hands him a paper Chinese lantern to veil the sole bare light bulb in the room. “Look we’ve made enchantement!,” she exclaims as they start waltzing around the dimly lit room. The naked light bulb in this scene serves as one of the many symbols, representing Blanche’s aproach to life, and her perpetual desire to glamorize it. The rough, naked, and radiant light exposes everything with great clarity, leaving little room to imagination. Once it’s concealed however with a pretty package, it distorts the unfiltered, authentic image, crafting the desired illusion of reality. Desire is what lies at the core of Mitch’s and Blanche’s relationship, growing more potent as their perspectives become increasingly distorted – Mitch feels drawn to the mystical allure of the protagonist, which allows him to craft his own vision of her in his head.

Complications arise when Stanley successfully uncovers the entire truth about Blanche’s past and shares this revelation with Mitch and Stella. Mitch, in fury, decides to confront Blanche, trying to regain the boundary between reality and illusion once and for all. “It’s dark in here,” he says. “I like dark. The dark is comforting to me,” she responds. “I’ve never seen you in the light. […] I’ve never had a real good look at you,” states Mitch angrily as he comes to the realization, and consequently, smashes the paper lantern and turns the exposed light bulb on. Blanche trying to hide away from the scrutinizing light, fails to escape Mitch’s interrogating gaze – he grabs her face, trying to recognize where the vanishing illusion has gone.

A culminating moment unfolds when Stanley himself confronts Blanche, exposing her dirty lies and secrets with contempt – “Look at yourself! In a worn-out Mardi Gras outfit, rented for 50 cents from some rag picker! And with your crazy crown on! What kind of queen do you think you are?! […] I’ve been onto you from the start! You come in here and you sprinkle the place with powder and you spray perfume, and cover the light bulb with a paper lantern!” Stanley, driven by the desire to assert his dominance and preserve his authority, launches an attack on Blanche, aiming to humiliate her and destroy the remnants of her fading illusion. The shadows fade away, and give way to the new, rough light – no more paper lanterns.

The symbolic significance of light in “A Streetcar Named Desire” reveals its multifaceted nature, as the driving force behind the narrative. It reflects the characters’ innermost desires, and the accompanying fear of them being brought into light, laid bare for all to see. For Blanche, the glaring, bright light she tried to avoid, symbolizes the unveiling of the painful truth that causes all the vulnerabilities, mistakes, and traumas from the past to resurface. The soft dim light allowed her to break free from the haunting pain, to perpetuate the desire of remaining the joyful, beautiful and delicate woman she once was, unharmed by the ugly truths of life – by the brutal reality of things passing, not lasting forever. The “light play”, present throughout the film, especially in the two pivotal scenes where the protagonist is confronted by other characters driven by their personal desires for truth, exposes the inner struggles of a person trapped between two different realms – of dream and reality. Concealing tears behind a smile and replacing a bare lightbulb with a paper lantern, Blanche tried to cling to the fragments of the past that brought her genuine joy. Yet, it proved to be a one-way street without a route back—a streetcar named desire, headed nowhere.