Shakespeare Uncovered

The other day I found a new, really great PBS series called Shakespeare Uncovered. It’s a six part series that specifically deconstructs a number of the plays while also providing general commentary and analysis concerning our favorite bard. Or, to let them describe it (from their website):

“The films combine interviews with actors, directors and scholars, along with visits to key locations, clips from some of the most celebrated film and television adaptations, and illustrative excerpts from the plays staged specially for the series at Shakespeare’s Globe in London.”

Right up my alley. And, in a fortuitous turn, one of the episodes focuses on analyzing all of Shakespeare’s comedies, with specific attention paid to As You Like It and Twelfth Night. I thought this would be a great opportunity to look back at what I have read (almost all of the comedies at this point) and contemplate a bit on where I am (actually, where I have been) with all of this. This was a good idea, as the episode in question was great, basically a deep-dive into these two plays coupled with a whole bunch of critical analysis on the man, his times, and his great contributions to Western art, all through the comic lens. Take this quote from the episode, from Dr. Jonathan Bate:

“Historically, people have paid more attention to Shakespeare’s tragedies and histories than his comedies, and that’s a huge mistake, in terms of thinking about what it is to be human, what it is to live in society, and above all, what it’s like to live in personal relationships….men and women together…families. The comedies are the place where Shakespeare really works that out in a profound way.”

I like that and I agree. Something about this genre, at least in Shakespearean terms, that really gets to the bottom of things, ya know? Indeed, as I move on to the other genres, I will be keeping this quote in the back of my mind, perhaps revisiting it later in this blog (I know, you can hardly wait). Why is Bate’s quote so true, or at least so true-sounding? What is it about the comic genre that lends itself so well to profound depictions of our personal humanity?

I Can't Believe It

Believe it or not, this guy is doing exactly what I'm doing, and doing it quite well I might add. So I'm not the only crazy one out there. Gotta love the internet. Definitely peruse his site...it's excellent.

Easy Reading

So I absolutely breezed through The Two Nobel Kinsmen, reading it almost entirely in a single sitting. And I really liked it, partly because it was so little work, comparatively speaking. Taking a break from the density and complexity of the language was a welcome thing. For example, compare a typical page from the last play I read (Troilus and Cressida) to this one:

The highlighted parts are the reference notes for that page. See what I mean? It was easy to just glide along and take it in and get a rhythm going, as opposed to constantly breaking off to check up on some obscure word or phrase. Perhaps I’m also getting used to the language, which is helping as well. If so, I should be absolutely humming along by the time I get to the Tragedies.

(13) The Two Nobel Kinsmen

I jumped ahead again and grabbed a play from later in Shakespeare’s career, namely The Two Nobel Kinsmen. Based on Chaucer’s A Knight’s Tale, it is a story of two friends who fall in love with the same girl and then become enemies. Also, there is a really interesting sub-plot that is both funny and tragic (this one is classified as a “tragicomedy”). I though it all hung together quite well, revisiting some old themes (the fickleness of love, mistaken identity, and class difference) while introducing some new stuff (the whole “tragicomedy” thing, for example).

This play is also known for its shared authorship with some guy named John Fletcher (indeed, it was not included in the official canon for a time for this very reason). I can’t tell them apart, but countless dissertations and other scholarly reckonings have picked over the thing and determined that Shakespeare is only responsible for all of Act I, the first scene in Act II, the first scene in Act III, and a bunch of bits and pieces in Act V. Like I said, I tried (and failed) to discern between the two writers. Indeed, I have no idea how they have made such a laser-like dissection of the play and am actually a little skeptical (not of the fact of shared authorship, but of the dissection). But who am I to say.

The reason why I jumped forward was so that I could read the play and then watch a live production. Once again, a local theater was producing the play (Philadelphia Shakespeare Theater), enabling me to do the old one-two punch (read then watch). As in previous cases, I was not sorry and am quickly realizing that this is my favorite way to go. And, as was also previously determined, this playhouse in particular really knows what it’s doing. A great production (the witty, comic portrayal of Theseus and the over-the-top “bromance” between the two male leads was particularly well done)…and I’m not the only one that thinks so. I will be going back to this place often.

Other Thoughts on Troilus and Cressida

Shakespeare’s harsh and way-critical casting of the classic Grecian heroes in Troilus and Cressida is relentless. These guys are made out to be such assholes. Take, for example, Achilles, that great and noble hero-warrior of yore. Shakespeare portrays him as an arrogant, pompous, and conniving fool with a penchant towards cowardice. Troilus and Cressida, the title characters, are weak, flighty “whores” (his words, not mine) with little to no integrity, ready at every turn to betray and otherwise harm their friends and lovers. They are all that way, exaggeratedly so, which deserves comment. Perhaps Shakespeare is trying to "pump up" his Elizabethan audience by showing such a debased and wanton society. We may not be perfect, he could be saying to his peers, but at least we’re better than these losers. Or, perhaps (and more intriguingly) he’s making an anti-war statement, as was first suggested to me so eloquently (again) in Ann Barton’s introduction to the play. Maybe a war based entirely on a pretty girl (Helen) rubbed the guy the wrong way. Indeed, there’s lots of soul searching by the characters throughout the play in regards to the fact that “the face that launched a thousand ships” has resulted in so much bloodshed. And if you stop to think about it, it actually isn't the noblest of causes, right? What’s so noble and great anyway about a major, epic war with thousands of dead, all over a kidnapped (yet perfectly happy) girl?

The ending of the play was fast and furious, which was cool. Act V has 10 scenes, the vast majority of which are quick, two character affairs occurring at the very end of the act (and the play, in fact). Two guys rush in, yell all sorts of eloquent, disparaging poetry at each other (I know, not so realistic, but bear with me), and then rush out, to be replaced by yet another fighting pair. This dramatic spectacle, at least on the page, works great. It must be really interesting to watch live.

Also, speaking of the ending of the play…what a bummer. This thing ends as despairingly and hopelessly as anything I have yet read. So much for happy endings. And people like happy ending of course, which probably explains (in part) the reason why this play was not performed at all after its debut in 1603 until the 20th century came along, at which point it was performed all over the place. Indeed, many have suggested that this play wasn't performed even once until the 20th century. I wonder why our age likes it so much? What could it be about a play depicting war as the ultimate expression of hopelessness and nihilism that appeals to our century (I’m being facetious of course). It is as if Shakespeare anticipated our age three centuries ago. This is interesting.

(12) Troilus and Cressida

Last night I asked my wife the following question: “When you pick a book to read, do you select it by genre? Also, would it bother you if you discovered it was actually of a different genre than the one you though it would be?” Her response? Often and yes, which is not surprising I think (at least to me, because I do agree with her to a certain extent, but more on that in a moment). There is something about genre, the reassuring predictability of it, the familiarity, the art of the assumption, that just works for us readers. In some ways it sets up the whole experience, a map of sorts that the reader can use to get to where they want (and like) to go.

So, in this respect, Troilus and Cressida pretty much totally fails, at least in the Classical sense. Genre-ly (to coin a term), it’s all over the place, at once a straight up tragedy, then a comedy, then back to a tragedy…kind of. For example, the tragic romance of Troilus and Cressida is not introduced until essentially the halfway mark (late in Act III actually). Talk about foiled expectations...and this is the title of the play for God’s sake. Up until this point, it’s mainly a drama centering on the politics of the Trojan War from Greek mythology, with hardly a mention at all of the budding romance that the title suggests as core to the play. Reading this play is thus a chore, more so than most of the other works I have read so far. Beyond all the obscure language and typical obfuscation that is so often Shakespeare, this lack of genre focus really makes for a harder-to-follow-than-most experience.

However, and this is a big however (isn’t there always a “however” with this guy?), I still liked it, on a number of different levels, not the least of which would be because of this wacky disregard for following the rules. This play flips and flops about like a fish on a dock, and oddly enough it’s these very gyrations that pull the reader in, like the tentacles of a hungry octopus, creating a complex and unique work of art. It was a new and different experience, this extreme genre bending stuff, which is always worth the bumpy ride, at least in my not-so-estimable estimation.

Onward!

After almost a two month break, I am ready to get this party started again…and party it will be my friends. Next up: Troilus and Cressida, another so-called problem play. Call me crazy, but such a label surely piques your interest, right?

A brief note about the break: I can see doing so again (what’s the big rush, anyway?). Remember, the subtitle of this blog is to read the plays “as expediently as is prudent.” Let’s focus on the prudent part of this bit of wisdom, shall we? To step back, to reboot, and perhaps most importantly to catch up on a bunch of other reading…it’s all good. However, it is time to continue.

In all honesty, I’m actually kind of excited (yes, I know, I seriously need to get a life), feeling a bit like I did when I first started this whole super awesome and exciting enterprise. I must say that I am definitely looking forward to the total immersion thing again, a bit of Shakespeare saturation, if you will. As I recall, towards the end of that first run I was pretty much thinking about and seeing The Bard everywhere, all day, in all sorts of contexts. That was kind of cool, to realize the prevalence of old Bill in so much of our day to day reality. In case you haven’t noticed, there seems to be something different about this guy.