Jackie Gleason & Two Kinds of Anger

The Opposites, The Honeymooners and Anger

I think some episodes of "The Honeymooners," with the superb ensemble work of its three principle actors—Jackie Gleason, Art Carney and Audrey Meadows—are art and illustrate this definitive principle stated by Eli Siegel: "All beauty is a making one of opposites and the making one of opposites is what we are going after in ourselves."

The show at its best puts together fury and tenderness, thick and thin with those bodies of Ralph and Norton, humor and seriousness, ordinary people and universal emotions. Life itself seems to get into that lovely, plain kitchen. The show has a good roughness, and at times you feel something like what Eli Siegel once said in describing the French stage of the 17th century with the comedies of Moliere: "It must have rattled with the pranks of merry bodies, weighing something."

At some point in almost every episode Ralph gets steamingly angry. Jackie Gleason gives no-holds-barred form to the ego strutting and then enraged when its plans are foiled—he makes anger look ridiculous. In "Aesthetic Realism And Anger" Mr. Siegel writes: "The worst kind of anger is the quiet kind, the kind that is...smooth disappointment." Ralph's anger is anything but quiet—it's all out. Yet Gleason was good, too, at giving outward form to the slow burn. But the crucial thing is this: Ralph inevitably sees his anger was wrong and he is ashamed, and as the show ends he's sweeter and stronger.

In the episode "On Stage" Ralph and Alice are going to be in a play at the Women's Auxiliary of the Racoon Club. Ralph, sure he will be discovered by a Hollywood director who will be in the audience, gets very pompous, talking with an affected "actor's" voice. He is to play Frederick who is in love with Rachel, played by Alice. But Rachel loves Hamilton, whom Norton plays. Scripts in hand, the three rehearse, and when Norton hits a certain word the sparks begin to fly. Instead of saying "I don't own a string of polo ponies," he says, as one word, "poloponies" and Ralph blows up.

Later the play is performed, and afterwards the Hollywood director comes to Ralph's dressing room, but says it is Alice he wants for his next movie, not Ralph. He leaves and Ralph's bubble is burst, but just then Alice comes in and speaks to him so movingly, he see's what really important in life. In a series of silent takes Gleason melts—his face changes from chagrin, to shame, to gratitude, and then he says his famous line—"Baby, you're the greatest"—and gives Alice a big hug.

I want people everywhere to know the one education that changes unjust anger in us, making us proud of ourselves and happy—the Aesthetic Realism of Eli Siegel.

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