America has long prided itself on being a land of opportunity. Since the fifteenth century, pilgrims have flocked to American shores, driven by the thought of making money thanks to the rich lands and resources available here. As time has passed, this image of America as a giant pot of money has not changed or diminished. References to work and the economy can be found in every newspaper, in the most casual conversations and in all media. And because, for much of history, men have been the primary breadwinners and job holders, male identity and occupation have become one and the same. To quote Shelley Levene from Glengarry Glen Ross, “A man is his work” (Mamet 75). In a way he is right; today's world places a lot of emphasis on how men earn their money and doesn't seem interested in much else. This interplay between male identity and capitalist economics has been explored quite frequently and effectively in American drama, particularly in dramatic works of the last 100 years. The mix of money and gender dynamics forms the basis for many of the greatest plays, including Death of a Salesman and Glengarry Glen Ross. What each of these dramas explores regarding this theme is largely different, but they all highlight what happens when capitalism and male identity intersect, and how this affects the characters, as well as the world in which they live. In this essay, I will argue that By linking their manliness to commercial success, the men in these comedies have created an unstable and ultimately emasculating world, which benefits no one in the long term. Say no to plagiarism. Get a tailor-made essay on "Why Violent Video Games Shouldn't Be Banned"? Get an original essay Death of a Salesman by Arthur Miller, perhaps the most famous way to deal with this issue, in his portrayal of Willy Loman, a once successful businessman who is now falling apart on hard times in his old age . Willy is a firm believer in the idea of ​​working hard and applying yourself to succeed. Through a series of monologues from other characters and illuminating flashbacks, however, we see that his life does not follow this outline at all. His brother Ben became much richer than Willy simply by stumbling upon gold during one of his adventures. And despite years of hard work and presumably making money for the company, Willy is still boxed in by his new boss because he can no longer sell like he used to. In short, the company is not interested in Willy as a person, partner or friend: he is just a means to make money. In post-war America, when sales were skyrocketing and it seemed like the money would never run out, this stark depiction of a business-oriented system was much needed. When the war ended and America's new high-tech factory system began putting hundreds of thousands of returning soldiers to work, many workers who had survived the Depression and the war found themselves facing unemployment, a thought not far from the public's mind. when the show premiered. executed (Grant 54). Death of a Salesman served as a reminder that what we did when we were standing inevitably still hurt us when we fell again. When Willy was in sales, he cheated on his wife, was discovered by his son, and was, overall, an aggressive and rarely present father. But when factors beyond his control end up putting him on the street, he has to pay for it. He has to live in a house with the son he disappointed, the wife he cheated on and the other son heperpetually neglects. The trappings of success can no longer occupy him. This history mirrors that of America in the early 20th century. During the 1920s the country's economy reached celestial heights, as stock speculation and increased credit purchases placed the nation deeply in debt. Then came the crash and crime and poverty were unleashed. During the lucrative 1940s and 1950s, Miller's play and characters all seem to urge us to be alert to the fickleness of economic wealth. Charley sums it up well in a quote in the final scene: “You don't understand: Willy was a salesman. And for a salesman, life is bottomless. He doesn't put a bolt on a nut, explain the law to you or give you medicine. He's a man out there in nowhere, riding the smile and the shoeshine. And when they start not smiling back, it's an earthquake… Biff: Charley, that man didn't know who he was” (Miller 138). Most people create their identities based on what they leave behind: children, marriages, things they've built or accomplished, memorable accomplishments or accomplishments. This notion connects to what the Greek thinker Epicurus called “natural desires.” The idea is that you can only want to do certain things for a certain amount of time before you are satisfied. If, for example, you eat a large amount of food, you will get full and get tired of eating. But Willy doesn't get tired. He sells smiles and shoe shines, dreams and ideas, things he perhaps doesn't use, the image of a person he perhaps isn't. Epicurus calls these “vain desires,” things accomplished entirely by human beings. “Vain desires include desires for power, wealth, fame, and the like. They are difficult to satisfy, partly because they have no natural limits. If you want wealth or power, no matter how much you get, you can always get more, and the more you get, the more you want” (Cassier, 3). Willy Loman spent his entire life searching for these things, and as the changing economic climate slowly stripped him of his ability to sell, he began to suffer from withdrawal symptoms, which ultimately ended in his death. Money, it seems, brought him only small amounts of happiness, and even those were largely exaggerated by his mind. But it certainly brought him a considerable amount of misery. Yet, despite this, Willy attaches considerable importance to the idea and image of the working man. Throughout the story he still looks reverently at his older brother Ben, treating him with a love and respect that he shows to no one else in the play. He will never suffer an attack or even a doubt about Ben, his empire and his wealth. “The man knew what he wanted and he went out and got it! He went into a jungle and came out, at the age of twenty-one, and he's rich!" Willy says at one point (Miller 41). Perseverance and ambition, then, two traditionally masculine virtues, are all that is needed for succeed on a professional level. Yet he himself, despite years of dedication, is now slowly cast aside, having never achieved the economic status of his relatives, his professional reputation, worth nothing to those around him, and so he must try to express his masculinity in other ways In much the same way that Swaino attempts to compensate for his lack of money and success with horrible sexual encounters in Small Engine Repair, Willy attempts to regain some of his virility. through anger, tenacity and his own sexual attempt. Ultimately, this pushes him further down, into a hole of misery. Willy has always been dazzled by these surprising images: of Ben the adventurer, of Dave Singleman and of the his green slippers. Real life never quite measured up. Linda and Charley discuss it at the end of theshow, after Willy's funeral. “Linda: I can't understand it. Especially at this moment. For the first time in thirty-five years we were almost free and lucid. He just needed a small salary. He was also done with the dentist. Charley: No man needs but a small salary" (Miller 137). Willy has worked his entire life to achieve an ideal of salesmanship, which he achieved when he met a stranger in a hotel room and who convinced to give up the opportunity to travel the world with Ben. When he pays off his debts but loses his job, he is forced to deal with the emptiness of his life. This ultimately pushes him to kill himself, to pose end his life in exchange for some measure of control and...dignity Willy worked long and hard under the illusion that his craft was what defined him as a man, but ultimately it was what destroyed him. This same principle is expounded, albeit in a different way, in David Mamet's Glengarry Glen Ross, a play about small-time real estate agents in Chicago contact activity, which would, in theory, allow them to make more sales. It seems almost comical that two people would commit a federal crime to gain a professional advantage—it's just a job, after all. But for the men in this play it's not just a job. That's all. We never see them do anything that isn't directly related to work: they don't see their families, they don't play, they don't hang out with old friends, nothing. Even when they engage in friendly banter or go out to eat, it's all for the purpose of getting ahead at work. Take, for example, the restaurant scene involving Ricky Roma and James Lingk. In this exchange, Roma seems to share his life philosophy with someone he just met: “Stocks, bonds, art objects, real estate. Now: what are they? (Break). An opportunity. To what? To make money? Perhaps. Lose money? Perhaps. To “indulge” and “learn” about ourselves? Perhaps. So what the fuck? What isn't? They are an opportunity. That's all. I am an event” (Mamet 49.). Here Rome seems to sell her new partner an almost existential point of view: don't let the events and things of life define you, because they themselves have no meaning. It is up to the individual to decide what they mean. Yet, after sharing this liberating and liberating viewpoint with Lingk, Roma then launches into the following: “I want to show you something. (Break). It might not mean anything to you…and it might not. I do not know. I don't know anymore. (Pause. Takes out a small map and spreads it on a table.) What is it? Florida. Glengarry Highlands. Florida” (Mamet 50). All this rambling talk led to a sales pitch. Roma, despite advocating freedom from the labels and lofty concepts that keep us anxious and worried, is toiling for the capitalist business establishment. In a way, this is the ultimate horror. Roma's identity as a free spirit – if it is its true identity and not an affectation – has been distorted and perverted to serve the needs of the company. Roma may preach that they see all things as mere opportunities, but ultimately they can only do so while they are high in the table. These are his two options: stay on the council or starve. He is a slave to sales figures, and even his free-bird persona has become a tool for accumulating capital. Even the most basic relationships of these characters, the ones we see, anyway, are there purely for the purpose of moving forward. Almost every line uttered by various salespeople is aimed at some self-centered end. What seems like a series of recognizable interactions between Moss andAronow complaining about their boss and their work is actually an attempt by the former to force the latter to help him solve the problem and get quality marketing leads. Roma's monologue to Shelley in which she tells Levene that she admires him and that they should be partners is revealed to be a ploy by Ricky to steal money from the senior salesman. Living in this cutthroat business world for so long has corrupted their ability to empathize and befriend each other. At the end of this play, even these characters – whose careers, lives and self-esteem have been destroyed – still emerge destroyed in their own way. For these characters, the very act of speaking is merely a means to a financial end. They are completely consumed by their occupations. Every experience they've had, everything they've done, every friendship they've made, is just a way to make money, win a car. If you can't monetize it, in this world Mamet creates for us, does it really matter? Perhaps this is why, in the second act, Roma becomes so angry when Moss values ​​his own dignity over Levene's achievements. Money is really all these characters have, the fact that they earn it and lose it. One of the sellers is literally called "The Machine" in a seemingly positive way. When Moss starts acting like there's something more important than money - like his rights - Roma gets angry, because if money isn't paramount, what do their lives mean? Further evidence of this can be seen in the disparity in how Shelley and Williamson treat each other. In the first scene, Levene is completely and utterly humiliated by Williamson over and over again, and is forced to go through various stages of obsequious behavior to try to get the leads he needs to keep his job. To even gain access to decent contacts, he has to offer a huge share to Williamson, who keeps increasing the price only to see Levene squirm. And Levene, because he is low in the rankings, is forced to suffer this humiliation: “John. (Break). Listen. I want to talk to you. Let me do that for a second. I'm older than you. A man acquires a reputation. On the street. What does he do when he is awake, what does he do otherwise…. I said "ten" and you said "no". You said "twenty". I said 'okay', I won't make fun of you, how can I avoid it, tell me?...Okay. All right. We... All right, twenty percent and fifty dollars each. All right. For now. All right” (Mamet 24). When Shelley can't sell, she has to bend over and do whatever Williamson wants. Compare that to his attitude immediately after closing what he believes to be a big deal: “Why shouldn't the sale last? Hey, fuck you. That's what I'm saying. You have no idea about your job. A man is his job and you are fucked in yours” (Mamet 75). The fact is, though, as Levene points out at the end, Williamson can't fire him, not on, as he calls, "an $80,000 day." These characters, who they are, how people see them, and what they can do, are entirely defined by their ability to make money. And, as Mamet tries to show us, it is a fickle and rigged system. A world where skills and good business practices are not as important as arbitrary numbers and where, in the end, both seller and customer suffer. And with their identity as men continually denied or under attack, these characters must reinforce this image through hostility, insulting each other, and attempting to humiliate colleagues. In her essay “Every Fear Hides a Desire: Unstable Masculinity in Mamet's Drama,” Carla J. McDonough examines the roots of this ferocity. “More than anything, characters...