“poor old Mary Jane”
Exploring Herzog’s ability to portray unwavering faith and loyalty in humans.
Monologues are practical tools for character development and help advance your story’s plot. The intention and technique of delivering final monologues allow a character to experience a sense of narrative catharsis, as it provides them with the opportunity to express their deepest desires and wants, thereby achieving a sense of emotional resolution. When well written and carefully placed, monologues function as beats of narrative catharsis by employing tactics to express the speaker’s want. As the story progresses, the air inflates (conflict), preventing them from getting what they want. When it is about to pop, they break (monologue) and either pop in the process (ending) or deflate and go through the resolution through the end of the play. In other words, a monologue projecting the character’s final attempt to achieve their want at the climax of their arc allows for a release that changes everything for the character. Experiencing these as an audience allows for a gut-wrenching or memorable heart-warming feeling that keeps us re-reading the same plays and holding those characters close to our hearts.
Mary Jane, by playwright Amy Herzog, constructs a world where a mother and her son struggle with their physical health. Her son Alex, born at twenty-six weeks, suffers from every illness one can imagine. He feeds through a G-tube, has occurring seizures, lacks cognitive receptors, a constant influx of temperature drops, and paralyzed vocal cords. However, Mary Jane suffers just as much trying to keep her little boy alive. During the play, we observe numerous instances where Mary Jane experiences mental, emotional, and physical turmoil. From an outsider’s view, Alex’s reliance appears to be a significant daily burden. As the play progresses, we become aware of Mary Jane’s ongoing battle with migraines, and despite not admitting it, the stress from her son’s condition exacerbates her symptoms. Herzog illustrates the depths of a mother’s love for her child through this story. To achieve this, she masterfully crafts unique character dynamics by highlighting Alex’s physical limitations and Mary Jane’s sense of moral obligation to care for her son.
At the end of the play, Mary Jane sits in the hospital room wearing a white hospital sanitation suit that makes her look like a white bunny. A Buddhist nun, Tenkei, joins her, offering her religious vibes while her son, Alex, undergoes surgery. Feeling a migraine, Tenkei attempts to distract Mary Jane by asking about Alex. At this point in the narrative, the audience has never actually seen Alex on stage. Even when ‘on-stage,’ the audience does not have a clear view of him. The reason remains unclear. Most likely because of a baby actor’s inability to perform on stage, more likely because Jane’s struggle does not require us to see Alex’s physical state.
“Mary Jane: He's stubborn. Ha. He is such a stubborn kid. I get so mad at him. If he doesn't want to do something? Like say he doesn't want to sit in his wheelchair? If I try to put him in, he'll arch and squirm—I’m five times his size and he isn't supposed to have hardly any muscle control, but I'm telling you, if he doesn't want to sit I cannot get him in that damn chair. And I'm trying to be stern, but I'm laughing, and saying, “This is not funny, mister!” and he's laughing too… (Pause.)
He loves fish, of course. He loves our superintendent’s dog, Tricia, I bet he misses seeing her, He loves very cold things, I think he likes the feeling of extreme…sensory…he likes touching snow and ice. He likes seeing his breath in the winter.
If he does let me put him in his chair, he loves for me to run with him up and down
the street as fast as I can go. People look at me like I'm crazy, like, "Is that safe? Is
he supposed to be doing that?" But he just grins and grins.
He's almost three.
I don't know whether he's going to make it out of this surgery.
I don't know what to hope for anymore. (Pause.)
Tenkei: I see him very clearly. Thank you.
(Pause. Mary Jane smiles a little bit.)
Mary Jane: (Re: the aura.) ...It's closing in… They're very pretty actually, auras, they look like... computer-generated...what am I trying to think of? What's a snowflake?
Tenkei: What's a snowflake?
Mary Jane: It's a…an endlessly repeating…
Tenkei: A fractal?
Mary Jane: Yeah. A fractal (Long pause. With her eyes closed, she watches the aura morph and shimmer. It's unimaginably beautiful. She opens her eyes.) God. What a strange… (She looks for a word, then loses track of her search.)
Tenkei: Can you still see?
(Bright white light.)”
Amy Herzog carefully places this final monologue at the exact moment we need it in her character arc. “I’m five times his size and he isn’t supposed to have hardly any muscle control, but I’m telling you, if he doesn’t want to sit I cannot get him in that damn chair.” When recounting her experiences, the audience can perceive the genuine nature of her affection. Despite being aware that his medical condition hinders the indication of a distinct personality, she sees him for who he truly is. She reminisces about his early mannerisms and expressions throughout the play to better comprehend him. “And I’m trying to be stern, but I’m laughing, and saying, “This is not funny, mister!” and he’s laughing too…” Nonetheless, she remains cognizant of the harsh realities of his predicament. Rather than absorbing the stress negatively, she attempts to remain positive in every harsh situation.
Earlier in the story, Mary reveals that Alex experienced a mini-seizure the night before. Mary Jane was struggling with a migraine and trying to get some rest. One of the nurses assigned to monitor Alex, Donna, also dozed off, and he ended up on his back, choking. Again, the audience knows Alex can not move and has no immediate strength, yet we hear Mary Jane say, “If he does let me put him in his chair, he loves for me to run with him up and down the street as fast as I can go. People look at me like I’m crazy, like, “Is that safe? Is he supposed to be doing that?” The dynamics Herzog constructs in Alex’s inability to move or speak builds the stakes for Mary Jane. Alex becomes dependable on Mary Jane to survive.
For the first time in the play, Mary calmly sits in a room while someone finally takes care of her instead of caring for Alex. Nothing physically dramatic happens on this last page, nor does Mary Jane explode with emotion. She ends the monologue with, “I don’t know whether he’s going to make it out of this surgery. I don’t know what to hope for anymore.” The Buddhist nun responds, “I see him very clearly. Thank you.” Finally, Mary Jane achieves her want for someone to see Alex for who he is and not the conditions that hold him back. She does not cry instead, we see, “(Mary Jane smiles a little bit.)” The audience feels that moment of cathartic release within this small stage direction because, in the same way, she has been overseeing Alex, the audience has been caring for her. As we reach the final beat, the concern over Alex’s well-being fades and we recognize no matter what, Mary Jane will be okay.
Why are final monologues more successful in creating a feeling of narrative catharsis? To answer this question, we must consider why we write them in the first place. Structurally, each monologue comes from a particular character in a particular story. As a result, the moment of release the character experiences in the monologue ties closely to the journey we have taken with them up to that point. When a monologue successfully captures this moment of release, it creates a powerful emotional experience that is memorable and cathartic for the audience. This is why monologues often stand out as some of the most impactful moments in a story.
After analyzing the given monologues, why we write them becomes more evident. Is it inherent in a narrative structure that the pressure has to be maintained throughout the play to keep the characters active and the action unresolved? The playwright may make the conscious decision to maintain pressure throughout the play. Avoiding the monologue until necessary can help keep the characters active and the action unresolved, leading to a more engaging and dynamic story.
