Well, there are only 22 days until I leave on my big ole UK trip. To be honest, yes, I could spend all the time faithfully reading Shakespeare and fulfill my original goal. But, to quote the Bard himself, I feel as though I have sucked the sweets of sweet philosophy, and to be frank, it's getting a little old.
Now, I am not giving up on ole' Willy. Far from it! But I am going to take the rest of the plays at a more leisurely pace, making my NEW AND REVISED goal to finish them before the end of the semester. In the upcoming 22 days, besides school and my various theatrical commitments, I am going to devote myself to my neglected Celtic fellows.
After all, we are spending the first four days of the trip in Dublin, and my readings of Wilde and Joyce are sadly lacking. Also I have this big book of Irish folktales that I dismissed in fifth grade as "boring" (code for: these are really hard to get through, but I don't want to admit that anything is beyond my reading capabilities). So I'm going to drag that back out.
Besides, the Celts are awesome. I mean, woad, you guys. Woad.
Wanna be as hooked on the Celts as I am? Check out this incedible website. It will change your life. It's all about the woad, druids, and singing severed heads. Yep, you heard me right. Its awesomeness almost makes up for the fact that we don't get to see Stonehenge on this trip. Almost.
So, I'll keep you posted on my new discoveries over the next few weeks and, of course, the trip itself. Then we'll return to ze Bard. I promise.
Molly
Thursday, February 22, 2007
Monday, February 19, 2007
The Perfect Storm
The Tempest was (arguably) the last play Shakespeare alone ever wrote, his "swan song" according to the back cover of my copy. It is unlike any other play he wrote in that it played by the rules. Aristotle's Three Unities from the Poetics, about how plays should be written:
The unity of action: a play should have one main action that it follows, with no or few subplots.
The unity of place: a play should cover a single physical space and should not attempt to compress geography, nor should the stage represent more than one place.
The unity of time: the action in a play should take place over no more than 24 hours.
Shakespeare had grown famous writing shows with multitudes of subplots taking place all over the continent, over weeks and months of time. I guess he wanted to have a go at something more traditional. Regardless, at the time it was written, the Tempest was viewed as universally unimportant. Now everybody loves it.
The storyline is pretty well known, from the shipwrecks to the innocent young daughter who has never seen a man other than her father falling in love, games of chess being played, etc, etc.
What interests me however, is the fact that on this happy-go-lucky Gilligan-esque island, we have a heckuva lot of supernatural stuff that Maryann never had to deal with.
The play prominently features two spirits, Ariel, the sprite, and Caliban the demon.
Caliban has an interesting backstory--he was once a deformed monster, the only inhabitant of the island before Prospero and Miranda shipwreck. When they arrived, the "adopted" him, teaching him their language and religion, while he helped them learn to survive on the island. However, all good things must come to an end, and as Miranda grows up into the ravishing beauty that she is, Caliban can't help but notice and be entranced. Yep, you guessed it, he attempts to rape her. Not a good idea, considering that her father is a powerful sorcerer--BOOM--now Caliban is their demon slave. Pretty sad stuff.
Ariel is another story entirely. Her spirit was trapped in a tree on the island by an African witch. She dies long before Prospero and wee Miranda arrive. But when they do, Prospero divines Ariel's presence, and releases her from the tree in exchange for eternal servitude--sort of a genie in a bottle deal. He continually postpones the date of her freedom from servitude, but at the end of the play everyone gets to leave the island except she (although Ariel is asexual, she appears as nymphs and harpies, female mythological figures, throughout the show, and has some pretty awesome innuendo with various male characters) and Caliban.
Reading this play, I just can't bring myself to like Prospero. It seems to be the trend of those with power (in this case magic) that they cannot keep themselves from ordering the lives of those around them. Prospero dictates the events of the play like the proverbial man behind the curtain, and sure, everything turns out okay, but there is a certain bitterness left behind. This is a good example of Shakespeare's insight into human character. In life, humans are not meant to play God, even for the convenience of plot.
Current Play Count: 19/37
Days Till Trip: 25
I'm trying to reconcile myself with the idea I may have to finish up after the trip. Then again, I will need things to read to keep myself from exploding from excitement!
Till next time,
Molly
The unity of action: a play should have one main action that it follows, with no or few subplots.
The unity of place: a play should cover a single physical space and should not attempt to compress geography, nor should the stage represent more than one place.
The unity of time: the action in a play should take place over no more than 24 hours.
Shakespeare had grown famous writing shows with multitudes of subplots taking place all over the continent, over weeks and months of time. I guess he wanted to have a go at something more traditional. Regardless, at the time it was written, the Tempest was viewed as universally unimportant. Now everybody loves it.
The storyline is pretty well known, from the shipwrecks to the innocent young daughter who has never seen a man other than her father falling in love, games of chess being played, etc, etc.
What interests me however, is the fact that on this happy-go-lucky Gilligan-esque island, we have a heckuva lot of supernatural stuff that Maryann never had to deal with.
The play prominently features two spirits, Ariel, the sprite, and Caliban the demon.
Caliban has an interesting backstory--he was once a deformed monster, the only inhabitant of the island before Prospero and Miranda shipwreck. When they arrived, the "adopted" him, teaching him their language and religion, while he helped them learn to survive on the island. However, all good things must come to an end, and as Miranda grows up into the ravishing beauty that she is, Caliban can't help but notice and be entranced. Yep, you guessed it, he attempts to rape her. Not a good idea, considering that her father is a powerful sorcerer--BOOM--now Caliban is their demon slave. Pretty sad stuff.
Ariel is another story entirely. Her spirit was trapped in a tree on the island by an African witch. She dies long before Prospero and wee Miranda arrive. But when they do, Prospero divines Ariel's presence, and releases her from the tree in exchange for eternal servitude--sort of a genie in a bottle deal. He continually postpones the date of her freedom from servitude, but at the end of the play everyone gets to leave the island except she (although Ariel is asexual, she appears as nymphs and harpies, female mythological figures, throughout the show, and has some pretty awesome innuendo with various male characters) and Caliban.
Reading this play, I just can't bring myself to like Prospero. It seems to be the trend of those with power (in this case magic) that they cannot keep themselves from ordering the lives of those around them. Prospero dictates the events of the play like the proverbial man behind the curtain, and sure, everything turns out okay, but there is a certain bitterness left behind. This is a good example of Shakespeare's insight into human character. In life, humans are not meant to play God, even for the convenience of plot.
Current Play Count: 19/37
Days Till Trip: 25
I'm trying to reconcile myself with the idea I may have to finish up after the trip. Then again, I will need things to read to keep myself from exploding from excitement!
Till next time,
Molly
Saturday, February 10, 2007
ding ding ding! And the winner is...
Cymbeline as Molly's favorite Shakespearean play as of yet. This is one I would totally buy on DVD, for the record. While not critically acclaimed, it had a plot and ending that I could genuinely buy and care about. Plus, finally a fabulously strong female lead (unfortunately named Imogen) who is neither dumb nor insane and carries the bulk of lines in the entire show.
We begin the play by finding out that Imogen (the king's daughter and only heir--due to his sons being stolen away when they were but tots) has married a poor man when it was widely known she was intended for the queen's son Cloten (yep, her stepbrother). Her husband is banished and she is imprisoned, so really her little act of rebellion didn't pan out so well.
Plus now the queen is pissed off because the poor guy (hysterically named Posthumus) was preferred over her darling Cloten. Cloten sucks, by the way, very self absorbed Adonis type, and Imogen quite rightfully scorns him. But unfortunately he won't take no for an answer.
Meanwhile, Imogen's beloved makes a bet that she is the most pure woman EVA, and sends his new buddy back to Imogen's kingdom to try and seduce her. He fails, but in typical fashion he can't admit this, so he hides in her room until she falls asleep and then "observes" her body so he knows details of moles and such to prove to Posthumus that he did bag her--so to speak.
Then there's the whole subplot about the king's sons being raised by a shepard and discovered by Imogen, and them decapitating Prince Cloten. There are misunderstandings galore, and the Queen partially poisons Imogen...yada yada yada.
But all of these intrigues pale in comparison to Act V Scene IV. This, I think, it my favorite bit in all of Shakespeare, thrown in completely randomly in a dream sequence:
Jupiter descends in thunder and lightning, sitting upon an eagle: he throws a thunderbolt. The Apparitions fall on their knees.
Jupiter: No more, you petty spirits of region low,
Offend our hearing; hush! How dare you ghosts
Accuse the thunderer, whose bolt, you know,
Sky-planted batters all rebelling coasts?
Poor shadows of Elysium, hence, and rest
Upon your never-withering banks of flowers:
Be not with mortal accidents opprest;
No care of yours it is; you know 'tis ours.
Whom best I love I cross; to make my gift,
The more delay'd, delighted. Be content;
Your low-laid son our godhead will uplift:
His comforts thrive, his trials well are spent.
Our Jovial star reign'd at his birth, and in
Our temple was he married. Rise, and fade.
He shall be lord of lady Imogen,
And happier much by his affliction made.
This tablet lay upon his breast, wherein
Our pleasure his full fortune doth confine:
and so, away: no further with your din
Express impatience, lest you stir up mine.
Mount, eagle, to my palace crystalline.
Ascends
Sicilius Leonatus: He came in thunder; his celestial breath
Was sulphurous to smell: the holy eagle
Stoop'd as to foot us: his ascension is
More sweet than our blest fields: his royal bird
Prunes the immortal wing and cloys his beak,
As when his god is pleased.
All: Thanks, Jupiter!
So, basically, Zeus, the big man himself, flies in and tells them how to work out all their problems for a happy ending in the next scene. This is as literal as the deus ex machina gets, my friends. And I like it.
Molly
We begin the play by finding out that Imogen (the king's daughter and only heir--due to his sons being stolen away when they were but tots) has married a poor man when it was widely known she was intended for the queen's son Cloten (yep, her stepbrother). Her husband is banished and she is imprisoned, so really her little act of rebellion didn't pan out so well.
Plus now the queen is pissed off because the poor guy (hysterically named Posthumus) was preferred over her darling Cloten. Cloten sucks, by the way, very self absorbed Adonis type, and Imogen quite rightfully scorns him. But unfortunately he won't take no for an answer.
Meanwhile, Imogen's beloved makes a bet that she is the most pure woman EVA, and sends his new buddy back to Imogen's kingdom to try and seduce her. He fails, but in typical fashion he can't admit this, so he hides in her room until she falls asleep and then "observes" her body so he knows details of moles and such to prove to Posthumus that he did bag her--so to speak.
Then there's the whole subplot about the king's sons being raised by a shepard and discovered by Imogen, and them decapitating Prince Cloten. There are misunderstandings galore, and the Queen partially poisons Imogen...yada yada yada.
But all of these intrigues pale in comparison to Act V Scene IV. This, I think, it my favorite bit in all of Shakespeare, thrown in completely randomly in a dream sequence:
Jupiter descends in thunder and lightning, sitting upon an eagle: he throws a thunderbolt. The Apparitions fall on their knees.
Jupiter: No more, you petty spirits of region low,
Offend our hearing; hush! How dare you ghosts
Accuse the thunderer, whose bolt, you know,
Sky-planted batters all rebelling coasts?
Poor shadows of Elysium, hence, and rest
Upon your never-withering banks of flowers:
Be not with mortal accidents opprest;
No care of yours it is; you know 'tis ours.
Whom best I love I cross; to make my gift,
The more delay'd, delighted. Be content;
Your low-laid son our godhead will uplift:
His comforts thrive, his trials well are spent.
Our Jovial star reign'd at his birth, and in
Our temple was he married. Rise, and fade.
He shall be lord of lady Imogen,
And happier much by his affliction made.
This tablet lay upon his breast, wherein
Our pleasure his full fortune doth confine:
and so, away: no further with your din
Express impatience, lest you stir up mine.
Mount, eagle, to my palace crystalline.
Ascends
Sicilius Leonatus: He came in thunder; his celestial breath
Was sulphurous to smell: the holy eagle
Stoop'd as to foot us: his ascension is
More sweet than our blest fields: his royal bird
Prunes the immortal wing and cloys his beak,
As when his god is pleased.
All: Thanks, Jupiter!
So, basically, Zeus, the big man himself, flies in and tells them how to work out all their problems for a happy ending in the next scene. This is as literal as the deus ex machina gets, my friends. And I like it.
Molly
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