Sweet Bird of Youth: Act Three Summary & Analysis

When the audience last saw the Princess, she had just heard The Lament. Caught off-guard by its plaintive sound, she realized that beach towns like St. Cloud only offer temporary exile, not true escape. Now, it seems, she intends to act upon that realization by getting ready to leave and asking Hatcher, Tom Junior, and Scotty to help her leave this place, which she now sees as nothing less than hellish (“infernal”). Rather than running away from her past by hiding out and numbing herself with sex and drugs, she has decided to move on. After all, living like a hermit in a fancy hotel won’t enable her to forget the fact that she no longer has her youthful beauty, and she seems to—on some level—understand this.

Here the Princess tells Chance a cautionary tale about people who never accept their limitations and failures. Having seen that Chance is “a good deal further across the border of reason,” she perhaps feels like she must help him come to terms with the fact that his pursuit to become a successful actor—and to win over Heavenly—is actually working against him. Before long, he will have the sad eyes of a man much older than his actual age, but he won’t have accomplished anything. In this way, the Princess suggests that people can waste lifetimes doing what Chance has been doing during the play: indulging unrealistic fantasies.

When the Princess says, “Will you please try to face it so we can go on together?” she emphasizes just how important it is for Chance to finally accept his own failures. Indeed, he must “face” his shortcomings in order to move on with his life. Of course, this is much easier said than done, especially since Chance is quite adept at deluding himself into believing he has what it takes to become famous.

Similar to how she addressed the audience in the beginning of Act One, the Princess now turns to her spectators and speaks to them directly. This time, though, she’s even more cognizant of her situation, finding herself capable of commenting on the spotlight shining down on her. When she first addressed the audience, she did so simply because she loved attention: it was only natural for her to tell her story to a group of curious listeners. Now, though, she faces the audience as a way of questioning the value of fame. This is why she comments on the lighting, trying to examine how her experience as a performer obsessed with public presentation has influenced her life as a whole.

Despite the Princess’s self-awareness—her willingness to look critically at her life as an actress whose livelihood depended on vanity—she can’t resist talking to the reporter about her comeback film. This is because she still needs validation from others. Although her “vanity” is “infinite,” so is her “disgust with [herself]” (to borrow her own words). As such, she finds it impossible to refrain from hearing what the reporter has to say. Meanwhile, Chance acts like a petulant child, insisting that the Princess talk about him and Heavenly. It’s worth noting that when the Princess doesn’t listen to him, he shortens his message, demanding: “Talk about me!” This reveals that he views Heavenly as secondary to him—yet another indication that his love for her is not incredibly genuine.

Chance has a one-track mind throughout the entirety of Sweet Bird of Youth: he wants to become famous, and he wants to succeed in his relationship with Heavenly. The Princess, on the other hand, gradually drifts away from such superficial concerns. However, when she receives positive feedback about her comeback film, she completely forgets all about her newfound resolve to live less superficially. As such, Williams suggests that fame and the idea of widespread popularity can be hard to resist, even if a person recognizes the downsides of living a life dedicated to something fleeting and unfulfilling.

Here the Princess offers a key distinction between Chance and herself. Although they want the same things and are obsessed with similar ideas regarding fame, popularity, and success, Chance has almost nothing other than his youthful good looks, which have begun to fade. The Princess, on the other hand, has actual talent. Indeed, she is a respectable actress, one good enough to push beyond the limits of her own faded beauty. In other words, she has talent and has worked hard to develop that talent, while Chance has only ever gotten by on his appearance.

When the wind whips through the room, the scene’s mood changes. Suddenly, the Princess is swept up in a certain kind of strange existential epiphany, as she states that “age” castrates women. When a man gets castrated, he is no longer able to reproduce. Similarly, when a woman ages, she eventually loses the ability to procreate. Although this idea of castration is somewhat tangential to the matters at hand, Williams uses the concept to consider how Chance and the Princess fear that they will be stripped of their ability to do what they think they’re destined to do. By talking to Chance about castration, the Princess is forced to think again about the fact that she has lost her youthful beauty. Even though her comeback film has apparently been successful, this doesn’t change the fact that she is growing older. Perhaps her first comeback was a success, but there’s no telling how long she’ll be able to remain in the public eye. In turn, her eyes reflect a “fearful, lonely, and tender” quality as she slowly realizes that her problems haven’t all disappeared simply because her comeback went well. However, one thing has changed: she is ready to accept this reality, ready to go “on [her] way.”

Although his prospects are quite grim, Chance refuses to leave, as leaving St. Cloud would mean giving up on his efforts to become famous and win over Heavenly. Of course, neither of these prospects seems likely, but Chance is a stubborn man capable of deluding himself into thinking that he has a shot at getting what he thinks he deserves. In this scene, though, a new hint of desperation has edged into his voice, as made clear by what he says about finding meaning in life. “Something’s got to mean something, don’t it, Princess?” he asks, perhaps feeling like he has wasted too much time and effort to walk away from his pursuits now. Regardless of his multiple failures, then, he decides to stay and face whatever is coming his way.

This is the first time in the play that Chance admits that he has “gone past” his youth. Previously, he only ever alluded to his fading beauty by—for example—referencing his thinning hair. Now, though, he says that his body is full of “rot,” making him “ancient.” Of course, this is in many ways true, since he has an illness that is no doubt affecting his physical health. By calling this disease “rot,” though, he aligns himself with Boss Finley’s ideas about the corruption of purity—whereas his body used to be young and healthy, now he sees it as “rot[ten]” and old, as if his very life has corrupted his previously clean form.

Although Chance’s final words in the play sound as if they carry profound wisdom about the ways all humans are destined to succumb to the unforgiving effects of time, it’s worth noting that this does nothing to address the actual reason why Boss Finley and Tom Junior want to harm him. After all, Boss Finley doesn’t care about how hard it is for Chance to grow old—what he cares about is the fact that Chance treated Heavenly poorly, giving her an STD without even mentioning it and then running off to continue his life of irresponsibility. Even in this last moment, then, Chance is unable to step outside of his own experience to acknowledge that he has harmed others. Instead, he continues to obsess over the fact that his youth is gone, an altogether natural and unavoidable fact of life, but one he can seemingly never come to terms with.