Archive for March, 2014

With a Passion Would I Shake the World

Posted in King John with tags , on 2014/03/13 by mattermind

King John, Act III

Consider me bowled over.

This play has me hooked…and it was the last thing I expected.  Don’t know why.  Probably because – as I previously mentioned – you don’t see it performed often or even mentioned with Shakespeare’s great works.  It just sorta gets lumped in.  “Oh, and then the King John thing.  What’s that about?”

For my money, it’s the best read I’ve had so far.  Maybe because it hit me out of left field.  Maybe because it reads like a tense action flick; Die Hard comes to mind.  Shakespeare relentlessly puts the main characters in the most excruciating circumstances.  They must choose between a rock and a hard place.

In Act III, King John and King Philip have come to a precarious peace by agreeing to a marriage that will tidy up the land dispute that brought them to arms.  But this agreement pisses off Constance, who was counting on Phillip rallying to the cause of her son, Arthur.  She rails at Philip for betraying her, even if the result is peace.  The peace displeases, for it upsets Arthur’s line to the throne.

Enter the pope, err, rather the pope’s spokesman to force a decision upon John that the king detests: accept the pope’s choice for the Archbishop of Canterbury or be excommunicated.

Being excommunicated by the pope is no joke, especially at that time.  But John is steadfast, headstrong, willful, you might say stupid in standing his ground over what could be argued a relatively trivial matter.  Not that the Archbishop of Canterbury was trivial – he was the most important church figure in England.  But rather the risk John took in crossing the leader of the singular head of the Western faith.  Remember, the Protestant Reformation did not exist yet.  Catholicism, for all intents and purposes, was it.

We in the modern age cannot fathom how much power this one man held throughout Europe.  There is simply no like figure in our worldviews.  But for John to dare what it would take Henry VIII to fully accomplish – and then, only with a great deal of bloodshed – ought to put into some kind of perspective the tensions that this play creates.

And yes, this much is certainly historically accurate.  John disastrously played his hand against three powerful forces: 1) the pope 2) King Philip and 3) his own barons, who became outraged at his singular incompetence.

When Pope Innocent excommunicated John, John retaliated by pillaging Catholic holdings in England for a lot of loot.  But it backfired when the pope withheld any forms of worship in England.  This meant no church weddings, funerals or services of any kind unless clandestine. For the people of the Middle Ages, this resounded like a shockwave.

And yes, John disappeared Arthur in a manner that history has not been able to decipher.  But it too caused the English to turn to their king with a growing disdain and abhorrence.

Add to these woes the anger generated from endless rounds of taxation needed to fund armies to attempt to reclaim the lost French holdings and you begin to understand why John’s legacy has not been favorable in the historical memory of England.

The fascination for me is watching Shakespeare turn these historical facts into riveting drama.  Sure, he’s taken a few liberties with characters and condensed time and space where he saw fit.  But the end result certainly approaches the fine mess that John created for himself and does so by holding us on the edge of our seat.

It sounds like exaggeration, but I have read the first three acts of this play as I would a novel by Dan Brown or Stephen King.  I realize that may not be an endorsement to some.  But take from that the metaphor if not the names.  Substitute your own favorite authors and films.

Did I mention I LOVE this play?  No, it’s not Hamlet.  It’s all outward action and suspense.  A great popcorn read, if you will.

But is there anything wrong with that?

Mad World! Mad Kings! Mad Composition!

Posted in King John with tags , on 2014/03/12 by mattermind

King John, Act II

So far, the biggest question I have about the play is why it ranks so low in popularity.  The complicated background history, maybe?

I was expecting to find it dull and overweighted with long, boring speeches. Instead, I find it brisk and tense, thanks to a few advanced lessons from Sir Isaac Asimov.

I suppose now is as good a place as any to remind people that Shakespeare was a dramatist, not an historian.  He played fast and loose with persnickety facts when the storyline suited him, and wasn’t about to let a minor inaccuracy get in the way of a ripping yarn.

So it’s useful (and necessary) not to accept his plots – particularly the “historical” ones – at face value. This doesn’t just apply to the egregious examples like Richard III.

In fact, Shakespeare’s liberality with what can best be described as dubious sources calls to mind our contemporary critique of made-for-TV movies “based on a true story.”  We yammer about structural and character changes writers make to enhance the dramatic impact of a story.  But the method is as old as caveman tales told around a campfire.  The rule: when in doubt, exaggerate for emotional impact.

The basics of what we need to know for this play are rather simple (he says).  Ever since William the Conqueror invaded England, the English king has held dual possessions in France and at home.  With strategic marriages and heavy-handed statesmanship, those territories have remained in English possession through King John, but things are about to turn ugly.

King Philip of France is using a glitch in the English rule of succession (where have we heard this before) to intercede on young Arthur’s (not that Arthur) behalf.  King John is the youngest son of Henry II and should only rule if his older brothers left no male heirs.  But, in fact, Geoffrey’s wife was pregnant when he died and their son – yep, Arthur – technically should have gotten the nod.

It’s complicated, of course, and involves a gripping subplot about two overambitious stagemothers (Eleanor of Aquitaine and Constance of Brittany) – as well as the aforementioned headstrong kings.

You really need a program to keep up with all this…which brings me back to the idea that it must be part of the reason why the play does not rank among Shakespeare’s more popular.  Then again, I still have three acts to go.

Rather than bore you with my recap, I would just like to point out a scene in Act II that reminds me of Monty Python.  The setting: France.  The place: Angiers (an English possession).  The situation: King John has stormed into France to defend his land against the trumped up (some might say) charges of King Philip.  Each king claims legitimacy before the people; King John as the King of England and King Philip on behalf of Arthur.  The poor, besieged city dwellers do not know how to answer and try to play it safe.  But it’s precarious business, especially when a battle between the rival forces ends in a draw.

Which side should the people choose?  Go with the English king, since they’re technically on English soil (even though in France)?  Or jump sides and back the French, since Philip is hot to get their land back?

The Bastard (we met him in Act I) boldly suggests that both sides put aside their differences to destroy Angiers and then resume their feud to see who may claim the spoils.

I feel for Angiers.  Trying to do the right thing.  Caught between a rock and a hard place.  And yet teetering on the verge of destruction because of the madness inherent in the screwed-up politics of succession.

Incredibly Rare First Folio to Go on Display

Posted in Celebrations, Events on 2014/03/11 by mattermind

Shakespeare’s 450th birthday is right around the corner – April 23rd to be more or less exact (at least for the celebration).

Now we get word that a first folio – one of the world’s most important documents – will be put on display to commemorate the occasion.

You can read more about it HERE.

ENGLAND A Pilgrimage for Shakespeare’s 450th Birthday

Posted in Celebrations, Shakespeareana on 2014/03/10 by mattermind

As we get closer to Shakespeare’s 450th birthday, I expect a flurry of articles like THIS from the Miami Herald.

As a passionate traveller, I can’t help but envy those fortunate enough to make the journey for this momentous occasion.

Please let me know if you would like to share personal stories or have links to articles that may interest readers here.

Shakespeare, like all great artists, ultimately transcends a particular time or place. Yet we remain fascinated by origin tales – disputed and otherwise. It inspires us to visit a birthplace, school or gravesite, even in this era of virtual reality.

April 23rd. Mark it on your calendar. Nobody knows with absolute certainty that this is the correct date (or even the right guy). But it’s the best we’ve got. And the party’s going down anyway.

So be there. Well, in spirit at least.

The Life and Work of an Audiobook Narrator

Posted in Actors, Performance on 2014/03/09 by mattermind

I am a satisfied member of Audible.com.  Each month I download two books for a paltry sum measured against the wealth I receive in return.

I mention this in full disclosure considering this LINK to a fascinating dialogue in Slate between an author and the man who narrates his books – considered by many to be one of the best in the business.

It’s an up-close-and-personal discussion on the joys and responsibilities of becoming the voice of a novel or work of non-fiction, how that process looks from the inside out.  I found it riveting and relatable, especially considering the number of titles I enjoy each year.

I hope you like it too.  I’ll be back with King John bright and early tomorrow.

My Father Gave Me Honor, Yours Gave Land

Posted in King John with tags on 2014/03/08 by mattermind

King John, Act I

Once again, thanks to the Great Courses for an exhilarating class on Medieval English History.  Without it, this play would fly straight over my head and be utter gibberish.  Shakespearean gibberish, of course – and me the lesser for my misapprehension.  But gibberish nonetheless.

Count it then a measure of the class’s sweep and scope that I started the play on the very edge of my seat.  I already knew going in that John is considered one of the least successful kings in English history (to put it mildly) – so much so that only he, along with Stephen, remain the two royal names never to have been used again.

As presented in the lecture devoted to his disastrous reign, there are many reasons for his catastrophic failures.  In college I learned about the significance of the signing of the Magna Carta, the first document to reign in the unchecked powers of a king.  But until now, I had no idea what forced John into making this great unprecedented concession.

Now I know that John took on three great opponents…and lost.  He lost to Pope Innocent III, who pronounced a papal edict that forced John into accepting the Pope’s choice for the Archbishop of Canterbury; he lost most if not eventually all the English holdings in France to King Phillip, including Normandy and Brittany that had been in English possession since William the Conqueror; he lost absolute rule to the English people, who resisted John’s overtaxation and legal abuses.  When John successfully appealed to the Pope to annul this agreement, claiming he had done so under duress, he initiated a civil war against his own people, many of whom had become so fed up they turned to France with an invitation to be invaded.  King John came to be loathed that much!

Armed with this background, I eagerly began the play, curious how Shakespeare would dramatize the dysfunction.  As usual, I was unprepared for the particular tact that he took.  For after a swift, logical opening which centers us amid the ongoing conflict with Philip of France, Shakespeare occupies John with an odd paternity dispute involving two of his subjects.

I’m like, what the what?  Why this sudden shift in gears, this introduction of a strange subplot?  What does it have to do with the big picture?  As the details emerge, it becomes clear that an older brother is being usurped by a younger sibling who claims the elder is a bastard.  The “bastard” protests, only to discover that he bears a striking resemblance to the former king, Richard the Lionheart.

So much so, in fact, that Eleanor of Aquitaine is immediately prepared to accept him as her grandson and bring him back with her to France.  The bastard is no idiot; he recognizes the opportunity and swears allegiance to Eleanor, forswearing in the process his claim to his inheritance.  Not such a bad deal when your dad turns out to have been a well-respected king.

But was he really the father?  There seems to be some doubt, even in the bastard’s own mind, when who should happen to drop by but good ol’ mom.  She’s furious, and quite rightly so it would seem, that her reputation has been impugned by two sons caring more about their own financial stakes than how this will look for her.

After a bit of protest, she then confesses that Richard the Lionheart indeed begat “the bastard” who has in the meantime been knighted a full Plantagenet by King John!  What formerly had been bad news could not have turned out any better for the newly named Richard.  He thanks his mother for having the good fortune to have been forcibly seduced by a king.

And thus we end Act I.  Maybe – just maybe – with the help of the Great Courses, the history plays that I had feared as virtually impenetrable won’t turn out to be indomitable after all!

How Like a Dream Is This

Posted in Two Gentlemen of Verona on 2014/03/07 by mattermind

Two Gentlemen of Verona, Act V

As I finished Act IV, I couldn’t help but notice that there weren’t many pages left in the play.  How will Shakespeare resolve all these loose ends? I wondered.

Mostly I wanted to know if comedic tradition would hold and somehow the plot would turn out happily ever after.  I didn’t see how it could be possible, what with the pain and heartache that Proteus had caused.

Alas, I underestimated Shakespeare’s ability to pull a rabbit out of a hat.  And I have to say, the resolution left me more than a little unsatisfied, since Valentine’s noble gesture of forgiveness comes after a paltry five lines of “I’m sorry. Forgive me.” Right on the heels of catching him about to take Silvia by physical violence!

Here are the lines verbatim:

PROTEUS: My shame and guilt confounds me.

Forgive me, Valentine.  If hearty sorrow

Be a sufficient ransom for offense,

I tender’t here.  I do as truly suffer

As e’er I did commit.

VALENTINE: Then I am paid.

Valentine might be – but I am not.  This is doubly true when applied to Julia.  It’s as if Proteus had suddenly awoken from a witch’s spell.  Now he understands – voila – that Julia’s beauty was not so very different from Silvia’s.  Whoops, sorry.

I am greatly moved by the lengths everyone else went for their beloved.  The two women in particular.  Both risked life and limb to set out in a wicked world to find their partner.  Valentine never stops pining for Silvia.  Without her, it doesn’t matter that he’s been made the captain of the renegade band of merry men.  And when he finds her again, he’s willing to risk everything to keep her.  His display of devotion is so powerful that it convinces Silvia’s father, the Duke, to grant Valentine’s wish and allow him to marry his daughter.

Only when his fellow outlaws are pardoned too do I understand that this play is about reconciliation and forgiveness.  There is also an element of confession and grace – Catholic shadings in my estimation – but that would parse the play in a controversial manner.

Nevertheless, it is this very magnanimity that both tinges and unhinges the play.  I get (or think I do) what Shakespeare is up to and to some degree it works.  What I’m not convinced of is Proteus’s sincerity or worthiness of such a superhuman gesture. 

But then, that too is the very nature of grace.

Alas, How Love Can Trifle with Itself!

Posted in Two Gentlemen of Verona with tags on 2014/03/07 by mattermind

Two Gentlemen of Verona, Act IV

It’s becoming clear to me how much in Shakespeare depends upon ironies of awareness and perception.  Hidden identities, switched gender roles, soliloquies, twins – they skew knowledge so that characters and/or the audience know things that others do not.  It can be the source of comedy or tragedy depending upon the type of disequilibrium it causes and what the bearer of the information advantage chooses to do with it.

Act IV turns out to be extraordinarily painful from Julia’s perspective.  She has traveled a long way at great personal danger to herself, only to have to witness firsthand how disloyal her lover has turned out to be.  But not only must she endure the heart-rending torture of it. The very nature of her disguise forces her to actively participate in the wooing of her rival.

Dressed a male page, she approaches Silvia bearing a love note and ring from Proteus. About now we begin to wonder how much suffering this woman will bear. What quality in Proteus causes her to put up with this? (Answer: love is blind and beyond reason, so there.)  After all, when we first met her, she was being courted by many eligible men and wasn’t herself sure that Proteus was “the” guy for her.

Now here she is, suffering the worst forms of humiliation in the name of love.  Herein lies perhaps one of the play’s chief faults.  I have read somewhere that playgoers weren’t terribly concerned in Shakespeare’s day with character consistency when it came to motivation.  That would go far toward helping me understand situations like this that tend to stick in my craw.  It’s quite similar to what I experience a lot at the movies lately.  I find myself muttering things like, “But why is he – should they – do we – oh, nevermind.” Plot holes apparently no longer need to be filled for ticket-buyers to leave satisfied so long as a lot of stuff blows up and somebody hot takes off his/her clothes.

Okay, fine then.  It would seem there’s a long tradition for reasons that don’t necessarily add up or ring true.  For me, this is one of them (there’s more coming, but that later).

The one thing we definitely learn is that Silvia is remarkably loyal and true.  She remains steadfast in her love for Valentine, come what may, proving utterly resilient and unassailable from a wayward courtship such as Proteus’s.

She sees straight through him, understands full well what he’s done and what his intentions are.  She wastes no opportunity, pummeling him at every turn.  Instead of pulling back and reconsidering, Proteus is spurred on like an outraged bull.

Here we experience an amazing range of emotions at one and the same instant: outrage at Proteus, awe at Silvia, sorrow for Valentine and abject pity for poor Julia.  This, again, highlights another aspect of Shakespeare’s unique genius.  No matter what the play or circumstances, rarely does he create characters we fail to care about.  We may not like them.  We may disagree with them.  We may love them, revile them, reject them.  But we won’t be unaffected by them.

On a silly side note, I was startled by the mention of Robin Hood when Valentine was captured by a motely crew of outlaws in the forest.  Somehow (see above) they instantly recognize their captive as being worthy of promotion to become their leader.  That quibble aside, I got a jolt from that outside pop culture reference.

Shakespeare was hip to the old school.  Who knew?

Kevin Spacey Releases Richard III Documentary

Posted in Richard III on 2014/03/06 by mattermind

I wish I could say I was excited for this. But honestly, isn’t it just more self-important navel gazing?

What interest there is boils down to two things, really: reuniting the director and star of American Beauty and how it ties into the new rage, House of Cards.

So maybe that’s something to get excited about. But otherwise, as far as poor, maligned, historical Richard goes, it’s just more of the same.

Watch trailer: http://t.co/f6pSFT4gXa

‘Tis a Woman, But What Woman I Will Not Tell

Posted in Two Gentlemen of Verona with tags on 2014/03/05 by mattermind

Two Gentlemen of Verona, Act III

The arc of the play is starting to look familiar.  This morning I remembered the Aesop fable about the dog and his reflection, a moral tale of risking something great to obtain something appearing even greater, only to end up with nothing at all (but regret).

In case my recap doesn’t jog your memory, here’s the gist from YouTube:

I can’t help thinking that Shakespeare based Proteus on the timeless fable.  But this is mere speculation because I don’t even know how the plot plays out yet . 

We’ve officially reached that point in the journey where it looks like the villain’s best-laid plans will come true. In so doing, however, Proteus has violated two sacred oaths in quest of what he perceives to be the big prize: 1) he double-crossed his best friend, exposing Valentine’s plot to run away with Silvia under cover of darkness 2) he broke a solemn oath he gave to Julia sealed with “True Love’s Kiss” (to borrow a memorable riff from the movie Enchanted).  He hopes now to court the grieving Silvia and win her – but I don’t see how this can possibly turn out well for him.

Maybe, if Shakespeare really wanted an over-the-top happy ending, Valentine will end up with Julia and Proteus with Silvia.  But that would mean rewarding Proteus for an odious moral breach. Proteus’s greed creates three victims where there ought to be four triumphant lovers.  Instead of celebrating Silvia and Valentine along with Julia and himself, now he has paved the way to a tragic personal scenario and a happy resolution of some sort for the others – with Valentine ending up in a threesome.  Otherwise, one girl gets left out – unless, of course, Proteus truly screws up and pushes Silvia into the hands of that unloved rival.

I’m spinning like on a Friday night at one of those rom-coms were you feel pretty certain halfway through how things will resolve just before the credits.  Now it’s only a question of how bad things will get for Proteus – and who Valentine will hook up with.

Lest the play become too predictable, Shakespeare has thrown the audience a curve ball with the creation of Launce, a kind of proto-Hal or Falstaff.  I have no idea what this fellow is doing in the story save to serve as the chorus or clown.  His presence doesn’t effect the plot in any discernible way – at least not yet.  He does have a dog and a dog is always good for laughs in a comedy.  Both he and the dog have some of the funniest lines.

The dialogue is rife with verbal volleyball and complex wordplay.  Both Launce and Speed, Valentine’s assistant, take particular pleasure in bending words backwards, pushing and pulling their meanings inside out.  It heightens the slapstick in what I’ve already mentioned is a comedy with rather dark metaphysical undertones.

Proteus has taken it upon himself to manipulate truth to serve his self-interest.  When you boil that down, there is very little except degree to separate him from Iago.  That alone tells me that things are not looking good where he’s concerned.

Maybe in the sequel.