Servitude by Eugene O’Neill

Who but O’Neill could make a rom-com so depressing?

Eugene O’Neill

Eugene O’Neill, winner of the 1936 Nobel Prize in Literature, is undoubtedly one of the greatest playwrights in the history of the American theatre. Having enjoyed reading O’Neill’s better-known plays, such as Anna Christie, The Hairy Ape, and The Iceman Cometh, I decided to work my way through his complete works. The task has not been entirely rewarding, however, particularly when venturing into O’Neill’s initial efforts, plays that even the author himself wished had been destroyed. Servitude, written in 1914, was O’Neill’s second full-length play, after Bread and Butter. Servitude was not published until 1950, against O’Neill’s wishes, in a volume entitled The Lost Plays of Eugene O’Neill. Now one can find it in various collections of O’Neill’s complete works, such as the Delphi Classics ebook or the Library of America hardcover editions.

David Roylston, a mustachioed playwright (hmmm, I wonder whom he’s patterned after?), is married with children, but his wife and kids are off traveling without him. He is holed up in his suburban New York home working on his latest play, with only his faithful servant to keep him company. Roylston is surprised by a ringing of the doorbell in the middle of the night. He is even more surprised to find that the caller is a beautiful young woman. Mrs. Frazer, as she calls herself, is one of Roylston’s biggest fans. Having perused all of his plays and taken to heart their precepts of scorning convention in order to be true to oneself, she has left her husband and makes a pilgrimage to meet her literary hero. As the two converse, she misses the last evening train and has no way of returning to the city, so Roylston offers to put her up in the guest bedroom.

Keep in mind that in this pre–World War I era, it was considered improper for a woman to be alone with a man who wasn’t her husband (and when defining alone, servants didn’t count). It’s not just an important contextual tidbit to keep in mind; the entire narrative of the play is, in fact, built upon this antiquated taboo. If her overnight stay were discovered, Mrs. Frazer’s reputation would be ruined, since everyone would assume she and Roylston had sex. Regardless, Roylston throws caution to the wind and convinces her to stay anyway. This causes all sorts of turmoil when his wife returns home the following morning to find Mrs. Frazer in her house.

The play starts out pretty well but just proceeds to get worse and worse. At first, you’re wondering what Mrs. Frazer wants from Roylston, which grabs your interest. Is she some former lover of his? Is she a just a fan, or is she a stalker? Then O’Neill explores the relationship between writers and their fans, which is also kind of interesting. From there, however, the play evolves into a debate about marriage, in which the two lead characters discuss at length how much the institution of marriage sucks. After all that, however, O’Neill tries to do a 180 and turn this into a romantic comedy—not a comedy in the sense that it’s funny; just a comedy as in the opposite of tragedy. For his time, I believe O’Neill had some relatively modern ideas about women’s independence. On the other hand, he doesn’t seem to like women very much, because in his marital dramas they are often depicted as the root of all evil.

Though Servitude shows some promise early on, by the halfway point it ventures into formulaic territory. The only aspect that’s not formulaic is O’Neill’s disgruntled views on love and marriage, which are just a drag. O’Neill would go on to write some masterpieces about marriage and family dynamics (like Mourning Becomes Electra and Long Day’s Journey into Night), but Servitude shows very little inkling of those great things to come.