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message 151:
by
Matthew
(new)
Mar 02, 2009 11:44AM
Hi guys. I finished the play two nights ago but have not had the chance to do more than think about it. A March 1 deadline was looming ahead of me like the apocalypse. Now that it's done, things are calmer. I will comment shortly.
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Mod
Candyminx, thou foolish woman, Julian of Norwich was not a writer of songs but England's greatest religious mystic!
I suppose the point I was trying to make is that "All's Well ..." and "All's shall be well" from Shakespeare and Julian of Norwich are both trite statements, taken out of their context.
Mod
In the words of Elle in the great film Clueless "I may not know Hamlet but I know Mel Gibson."
"... and it wasn't Hamlet who said that, it was that old guy, Polonius."
I prefer to imagine that Julian of Norwich has a secret underground influence on Bananarama.
Yours ever -- Polonius.
Mod
The uniqueness of Julian’s writings includes her incredible optimism in the face of the cultural chaos and confusion of her day, and her ability to transcend that confusion. Her phrase, “All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well” is not a Pollyanna-esque blindness to reality, but the results of a deep faith that God is indeed in control of all, even in the midst of apparent evil. Julian repeatedly states that there is no wrath or anger in God, a proposition that is upsetting to Puri tans and biblical literalists. And preceding modern psychology by centuries, she points out that the wrath we think we see in God is really in ourselves.
http://www.askthepriest.org/askthepri...
"All shall be well, and all shall be well, and you can see for yourself that all manner of thing shall be well." At the end of history, Christ will do something so that everything that has ever happened has happened for the best. Nobody will have any reason to say, "If only..." Christ told Julian, "I do hold you securely." At the same time, human sin is horrible; seen as it is, it is worse than the pains of hell. When Julian asked (as most Christians at one time or another have asked) how this can all be true, Christ replied, "What is impossible for you is not impossible for Me." Julian was fully aware of a contradiction that cannot be resolved in human terms, and found peace in accepting this. Like every sovereign, God has secrets and this is as it should be. She concludes, "The more we busy ourselves to understand God's secrets, the less we know."
found here...
http://www.pathguy.com/mnd.htm
and here...
http://www.pathguy.com/julian.htm
(the last two links are from a fellow in Kansas who seems to be an avid Shakespeare fan...great images collectd in one spot for the plays)
Mod
Let me say it this way, I'm educating you about contemporary goddesses and the undercurrent of paganism in popular culture despite the powers of conservative right wing christian cults in N.A.
Martin wrote: He [Hunter and/or Tillyard:] sees the play as an artistic mess which it is the job of the critic to tidy up as best he can.Can we agree that it is also the job, or at least the preogative, of a director to tidy up a play? Moshinsky made decisions for the BBC production that improved, for that performance, the coherence of the play. I would like to have seen what decisions Dehnert made.
I agree with Martin, who agreed with Candy, that we have not begun to discuss "The Play". Yet, we have discussed (or at least begun to discuss) the BBC production/performance, and that has been enough for me.
Frost's poem The Wheelbarrow is a mini-allegory about the creative process, involving these characters:-- the writer, who turns the wheel and gives his live to make the wheel go 'round;
-- the critic/director, who holds the blade and sharpens it on the wheel;
-- the audience (the whetter) for whom something must be left.
Perhaps I have enjoyed so much our discussion of the BBC production because I'm happy to be in the audience.
Mod
Just kidding...I don't want to offend any critics out there...but there really are so few cool critics on the planet...
Okay, I'm finally back. Thank you all for your patience.My first reaction, having completed the play is that I'm really ready to watch the BBC production. I find myself dissatisfied the way I often am when merely reading plays. They are, after all, not intended to be read but to be seen. That's why the author wrote them as plays!
Like so many of Shakespeare's works, this one can clearly be interpreted different ways (just witness this thread!) and this is a classic example of why different productions and revivals occur year after year.
Until I considered that this whole variability of interpretation is precisely the point of what makes theatre in general and Shakespeare in particular so great, I came here fully ready to disagree with Martin (yet again) about Bertram's refusal to marry Helena. I waited until now because I wanted to see if the issue was brought up again in the text. Indeed, it was, but not convincingly enough for my money. Martin makes much of the notion that he is merely rebelling against an arranged marriage but I detected no spirit of rebellion in either the tone or content of Bertram's words or actions.
Martin even mentioned the irony of my being an American and objecting to Bertram's disobedience of the king while he, a Brit, applauded it. My feeling was precisely the opposite: that it is in keeping with American culture to break down class distinctions while, in British culture, they are traditionally upheld even (especially?) by those at the bottom. This is to be found in Bertram's objection while the spirit of rebellion is not.
Then, along came the final act wherein the countess actually states that Bertram's disobedience was "youthful rebellion" but I got the feeling that this was a feeble excuse on the part of a parent to protect a child. Given that he was not objecting to any arranged or commanded marriages in the current scene, there is little to support the claim.
As for Bertram's affection for Lafew's daughter, it is expressed in the same scene in which he expresses a new-found affection for his "departed" wife and after his attempt to woo Diana. Where was his affection for Lafew's daughter then? No, it is as hollow as his attempt to discredit Diana, once again using her class as an argument.
However, I would be most interested to see a production of the play in which the actors and director interpret the characters more along the lines of Martin's way of thinking and less along mine. Indeed, I would be most curious to see one of each and see which one seems to work better.
I grant that it is the job of a director to tidy up a play. Critics almost invariably muck it up. I have worked as a director and quite proudly at that, but I have never soiled my hands with the dishonorable profession of critic (a small step above politician in my view).
Matthew, hi again! I promise to reply to your comments in a later post, but this is to say I've just finished the most delightful read of Boccaccio's "Day 3 story 9" of the Decameron, the original of the AWTEW plot.
Shakespeare follows his source most faithfully (the main departures I've recorded below).
Bertram is Bertram again, but Diana is called Gillette -- like the razor blades. The story is well stretched out in time. Gillette plays with Bertram as a child, and it is then she falls in love with him. After his father's death, Bertram is long at the French Court before Gillette travels there to attempt a cure for the King's illness. Her encounter with the King, before she tries the cure, is almost exactly followed by Shakespeare in the dialogue between the two. The cure is done through a powder medicine. She tells the King her choice of husband (rather than the scene where she picks him out). After Bertram runs away to Florence, Gillette, now the Countess (there is no Countess mother), returns to Rousillon. Here she improves the estate and makes herself beloved of the peasantry. (Shakespeare avoids this -- no doubt he wants some vulnerability in his heroine, rather than total empowerment.) She sends messengers to Bertram, who returns by them his resolve never to live with her until she has his ring and bears his child. Then she adopts the pilgrim disguise and goes to Florence. The landlady and the mother of "Diana" are different characters -- Shakespeare joins them into one. The stratagem is the same, but is repeated over many nights. Boccaccio leaves us in no doubt that Gillette is greatly pleasured by these repeated encounters. In the final scene there is no King, and Gillette needs no witnesses from Florence. She presents Bertram with twin sons who resemble Bertram in perfect likeness. The peasantry are delighted to have her back.
In Boccaccio there is no Countess, Lafew, Parolles or Lavache. Gillette's power comes from God, and her own father, Gerard de Narbonne, the sense of paganism and magic being a Shakespearean addition. Gillette is also wealthy before she marries Bertram, and has already rejected many suitors.
Matthew, I was hoping to get more of a feel for your response to the play as a whole. So I was disappointed to see you concentrating on the character and motives of Bertram.
Actually I think it is a mistake to concentrate on character and motives in Shakespeare too much.
A brilliant essay on the whole business of Shakespeare's "characters" is L.C. Knights' How many children had Lady Macbeth?. In the 19th century the emphasis was on Shakespeare the great creator of living characters. The characters were friends, people you knew and recognised. To study Shakespeare was to study his characters, and this was often done very literally. Knights help change that. He saw the plays as poems, to be interpreted as poetry. Our understanding of the plays flows out of the poetry. This essay influenced me enormously.
L.C. Knights was a great critic ---- but drat!, I forgot Matthew that you see all critics as dishonourable!
(But seriously Matthew, what do you mean, "critics always muck it up"? I don't believe you believe that.)
Incidentally, I think now that all of us (me especially) have made an error in not seeing the importance of Lavache in the play ...
Martin,I am concentrating on Bertram's motives because that has been the issue of the greatest contention. On that note, I cannot begin to say how much I disagree with your statement that it is a mistake to concentrate on character and motive.
While the plays are poetic, they are plays first and foremost. The reason Shakespeare resonates centuries after his death is because his characters breathe off the page (and stage) and remind us that they are, as you say, people we know and recognize.
Indeed, if I agreed with you, I would lose my interest in Shakespeare. As far as I'm concerned, if it's not about human beings, it's not interesting. Shakespeare is interesting because his work is about human beings.
Also, the fun of analyzing Shakespeare is strongest in the differences of interpretation. My father used to say "Ask ten different actors how to play Hamlet and you will get eleven different answers."
I enjoyed the character of Lavache very much, mostly because it's the role in which I would most likely be cast. Please tell me more about your feeling of having missed his importance.
Regarding my feeling about criticism as a profession, it is difficult to express myself clearly. This is partly because we are on computers rather than live conversation, but also because time does not permit the kind of dissertation of which I am capable when I really get going. The best I can do is offer quotes from two very different sources.In the recent movie, Rataouille, Peter O'Toole plays a critic who is humbled into recognizing his true place in the world:
"In many ways, the work of a critic is easy. We risk very little yet enjoy a position over those who offer up their work and their selves to our judgment. We thrive on negative criticism, which is fun to write and to read. But the bitter truth we critics must face is that, in the grand scheme of things, the average piece of junk is more meaningful than our criticism designating it so."
However, I am more concerned with and disturbed by the notion of a critic "tidying up a play" because I am so bothered by the assumption that we plebians need a middle-man for our relationship with the great playwrights. I prefer the purity of our understanding to be undiluted by these people whose opinions' being in print often give them so much more "legitimacy" than our own. And I am horrified at the popularity of deferring to critics in the attempt to determine a writer's quality altogether. I remember vividly my conversations with educated people who were ready to dismiss the works of such writers as Michener and Rand almost solely on the grounds that "I can't name a reputable critic who takes this stuff seriously". Perish the thought that we might actually think for ourselves.
The person who has expressed this far more eloquently and efficiently than I can is Larry Beinhart in his book, How to Write a Mystery. In his chapter on the importance of clarity, he writes:
"Clarity is the essence of all good writing. Of any type. It is the absolute basic, from the phrase to the sentence to the book. If I were ever to teach writing or composition or rhetoric or grammar or creative writing, I would teach one thing and it would be the same thing to all -- clarity.
The sentence should be, above all, clear.
The rules of grammar are, for the most part, rules of clarity. If you are clear, your grammar, however casual and slanguaged, with whatever personal tics and eccentricities you bring to it, is good grammar. If you have followed all the textbook rules of grammar but you are misunderstood or un-understood, that’s bad grammar. Odd punctuation? Fragments of sentences? Nouvelle vocab and undictionaried words? All A-OK. If totally, and easily, comprehensible. If everyone who reads what you have written understands it correctly, it has been written correctly. If every person who reads it understands it easily and fully, it is written well.
There is a “literary” attitude that difficult to read -- abstruse matters suffused with elusive and insidious similes, prolix, convoluted, impregnated through misadventure, with meretricious metaphor, subtly recondite, parenthetically equivocated with qualifying clauses, redolent of redundancy or, conversely, flat with uninflected minimalism in the spirit of the mannered modernists, appearing to say nothing but actually suggesting an apocryphal intuition of even less -- is good.
This perverse attitude is a product of academia. The first and most essential job of a critic is to make himself more important than the work itself, to establish that the work cannot be understood except through the critic’s explanation.
This is compounded by the demands of academic institutions. University teachers are expected to do more than merely teach. They are supposed to do research and to publish their results. That is one thing in the sciences and even the social sciences. But it’s weird when they have to write papers about the work of other people whose primary purpose was to make themselves understood in the first place. It gets weirder still when there are thousands of them out there writing yet another interpretation of Dickens and Shakespeare. You can see how grateful they would be to find material that is sufficiently incomprehensible that it actually does require explanation. It’s an immense relief. And how resentful they might be of work that anyone can pick up and read all by himself."
A volume in the Cambridge Shakespeare series, titled something like How to Teach Shakespeare, discusses a dozen or so approaches to understanding the plays. One of these approaches is through character; another approach is through performance. Both of these approaches are, to some extent, compatible with one another. Matthew seems to find favour with both of them, as I certainly do. Some of the other approaches are antithetical to these two approaches.Matthew wrote, "the fun of analyzing Shakespeare is strongest in the differences of interpretation." By this I think he meant differences in the interpretation of characters by actors. In any case, I find great pleasure analyzing (or just plain reading) a play from the points view of all the many approaches to understanding, of which character is but one.
It was academic critics who developed the various approaches to understanding. For their efforts doing so, though no more than a general reader, I am, quite simply, thankful.
This was a very interesting discussion, and I would say that each of the points made by Matthew, Martin, and William are valid in their own way. I would only add two things:
a) I would make a distinction between critics (who judge the "value" of work) and academics who write analyses of a work (without necessarily "judging" it). Ways of understanding a work fall more into the domain of academics than critics. Critics, however, have purloined the vocabulary of academics in the way they judge works.
b) Academia very often goes through fads and trends in its methods of critical analysis. FR Leavis was a major proponent of the character-based analysis. Later, you get the post-modernists, the deconstructionists etc. They all go through their own little 15 minutes and one should perhaps be neither too in thrall to them nor throw the baby out with the bath water.
William,You mention that two approaches to Shakespeare are through character and through performance. I'm not sure that I agree that these are two. It is, after all, the function of a performer to embody and inhabit the character.
In other words, issues like the motivational question that Martin and I have been debating are precisely where an actor and director begin their work. When I'm in the rehearsal room, I am usually tempted to try it both ways and see which works better. Most notably, it is important to see which interpretation is most consistent with how we are interpreting the rest of the play (as Martin points out, the play as a whole should not be lost). This way we keep everyone in the play going in the same direction -- hence the word "director".
Actors and directors have been doing this long before academic critics "developed" the approach.
I'm not suggesting "character" is of minor importance when looking at Shakespeare, I just hoped that Matthew, after a very long absence, would return to some other topic than Bertram's behaviour. What I see above is a habit of putting activities into compartments, with strict boundaries: "the job of a director", "criticism as a profession", "the work of a critic", "academia", "a dozen approaches ...", "a distinction between critics and academics" and so on. This is very modern. (To an extent, if you don't mind my saying so, very American.) Alexander Pope was a poet and wrote criticism. He edited Shakespeare, which made him an academic by modern standards. Harley Granville-Barker, a great critic, was primarily a director and he was also a playwright. And so on: there is no real separation. Criticism goes back to the ancient world. We are critics (of a sort), when we write in this thread. When Larry Bernhart says "clarity is the essence of all good writing" he is making a critical judgement.
Anyway, let me tell you something I did yesterday. I went to Walsingham, saw the remains of the shrine, and visited the small local museum which explained its importance. It was a pilgrimage destination, utterly destroyed in 1538 during the Reformation (26 years before Shakespeare was born). The protestants of the time thought they had done a grand job! There were contemporary statements, and these make it clear the the pilgrimages were noisy, colourful affairs, with lots of singing, merrymaking, drinking and having fun. Much more like today's mardi gras than the mental image you might have of a solemn Christian procession. I think that added something to my understanding of AWTEW. Helena's pilgrimage is perhaps not so very different from the sense of paganism I find in the play. She was also joining a cultural activity which had been savagely suppressed in England a generation before Shakespeare was born.
Mod
What a fantastic series of posts and thoughts.
I see this as a real breakthrough among basically strangers, in a risky venture of sharing our personal responses to Shakespeare. I think this is fantastic and a great opening of a door for future discussions (I'm going to start a thread about a future discussion in a minute).
I am not a big fan of critics as I said earlier...but I agree with Whitaker that I don't want to throw them out completely.
I think we've been able to see so many trends in literary criticism in the last 80 years, it would be weird if we all didn't have a major set of opinions about academia, critics etc.
Ithink in the last ten years the trend in criticism has been to divulge the plot, and write negatively focusing on "value" (as whitaker said). Seriously...I call it the Seinfeld Syndrome (I love Seinfeld...but I don't want to BE those characters as they were all sociopaths and landed up in prison, as they should!...that was why they were funny).
It's as if a critic must sound so bored and negative in order to sound "cultured" and intelligent...and we see this trend spread though out weboards and blogs all over the internet. It's asif critics don't want to be vulnerable to criticism themselves...so they are so negative they create a warped value of "good and bad" "highbrow versus lowbrow".
So...that aside...I tend to be interested in ll kinds of secondary literature...but am fussy about the kinds that are so negative.
As much as secondary literature is a fun hobby or good for comparative study..I value the emotional response of primary readings, and most especially in a group such as this. Sure, lets look to the critics and academics as an option but not forget that literature really is best served with a leap of faith from the audience/reader.
As for the idea of focusing on character and motive...okay. Yes, I would say that is valuable for helping an audience/reader suspend their disbelief and care about the story.
I think it is easy to fall into a trap of believing that all we can know from the work is what we decide from study of character.
The characters in the play are like the writing of Matthew's mystery advice. For me. I believe in some study....but characters function as vehicles for exploring the overall themes of a work. I don't mean to dismiss a real life actor...say in the often misunderstood quote by Hitchcock that they are "cattle"...but rather the characters are metaphors or allegories to the story...no?
My qualm with focusing on Bertram...is that I don't think studying HIS character especially will reveal the themes. Bertram is understood by the motives and actions of the other characters especially Parolles and Helena.
Bertram motives are from hiswill...as we follow the other characters we see that they are all in a puzzle of opposing self interests.
Bertram is selfishly motivated...thats his only secret. It's not that mysterious-he doesn't NEED our extra attention...we know this because the main characters act out their wills and the entire puzzle is who follows customs versus whose selfish motivation will win out.
Bertram can fall in love with Helena in a nanosecond because he realizes how cunning her acts were...they were even more cunning than his own self interest. It's as if he falls in love with her because he respects how well she played the "game".
So...not to rob Bertram of any energy or elan vital...but this is Parolles and Helena's stories. We understand everyone because we come to feel for their ambitions and game playing.
Oh I think Martin Gardner or John Nash could have a field day with game theory in this play!
It's not that I don't believe we can learn a lot by delving into the characters...but the idea is to have the play itself become visible as a "small set".
And I do mean to enjoy the pun of math term for set...and the stage set. I think this play is one of the more obvious examples of constructing a game theory in human relations of Shakespeares.
If we were learning chess, we would memorize the moves of each piece and eventually learn the strategies. As experience gains and our skill we wouldn't be as concerned with the individual options of a chess piece. We look to the entire game and the series of plays and moves.
In this way, I say only using the characters as a means to the themes of a work is not sufficient, is not the most insightful or well-rounded approach...in my opinion.
I think it sells literature short, especially Shakespeare. and it makes for a chopped and antagonistic reading of the work.
I hope some of these thoughts made sense...and I hope no thinks I haven't enjoyed the discussion disagreements and all.
It is so rare to meet others who will discuss and read rigorously these plays...that I am actually thrilled even though I might not sound like it in this post, ha!
Mod
The role of the contemporary critic, then, is a traditional one.
The point of the present essay is to recall criticism to it's traditional role, not to invent some fashionable new function for it. For a new generation of critics in western society english literature is now an inherited label for a field within which many diverse preoccupations congregate: semiotics, psychoanalysis, film studies, cultural theory, the representation of gender, popular writing, and of course the conventionally valued writings of the past. These pursuits have no obvious unity beyond a concern with the symbolic processes of social life, and the social production of forms of subjectivity. Critics who find such pursuits modish and distastefully new-fangled are, as a matter of cultural history, mistaken. They represent a contemporary version of the most venerable topics of criticism, before it was narrowed and impoverished to the so called literary canon. Moreover, it is possible to argue that such an enquiry
might contribute in a modest way to our very survival. For it is surely becoming apparent that without a more profound understanding of such symbolic processes, through which political power is deployed, reinforced, resisted, at times subverted, we shall be incapable of unlocking the most lethal power-struggles now confronting us. Modern criticism was born of a struggle against the absolutist state; unless it's future is now defined as a struggle against the bourgeois state, it might have no future at all.
Terry Eagleton 1984.
Okay, lots to address here.First of all, I have concentrated on Bertram's behavior for two reasons: One is that it was the source of our biggest disagreement and that is always far more intereting than simply agreeing with what other people have said better than I could have. Could anything be duller than a discussion group filled with nothing but "Oh, I like that too!" Candy says she has enjoyed this discussion, disagreements and all. My response is, of course! Disagreements are precisely what makes a discussion fun and it makes sense to concentrate on them rather than gloss over them.
Secondly, I have concentrated on Bertram because his rejection of Helena is the big catalystic action of the drama. Like Hamlet's failure to kill Claudius at prayer, there'd be no play if he did! This is no small matter to be the guy whose decision sets everything in real motion. I'm quite baffled that I have so bitterly disappointed Martin by wanting to really determine and dissect this particular lynchpin.
Another interesting disagreement (more general than the confines of this particular play) is now arising between me and Candy. She speaks of "literature really is best served with a leap of faith from the audience/reader". I have always imagined that it was the function of literature to serve the reader rather than the other way around.
By the same token, I do not agree that the characters are vehicles for the themes. Rather, it is the other way around. The themes are explored in order to draw us closer to the characters. Consider the difference between Clifford Odets and Arthur Miller. One treats his plays as sermons, with characters whose sole purpose are to preach the thematic content of his politics. Miller, on the other hand, explores similar socio-political issues for the purpose of providing an emotional and intellectual connection to the people to whom we have been introduced.
As for the themes of this play, I also disagree with the notion that exploring Bertram does not lead us to them... or at least, some of them. There is an element of redemption discussed in this play and that can certainly be seen in Bertram. And, yes indeed, class consciousness is explored in this play and Bertram is the walking embodiment of this mentality.
The thing that fascinates me the most about Candy's post is that it is Helena and Parolles' play. While Helena's importance speaks for itself, Parolles (while he does merit that earlier comparison to Falstaff) does not strike me as a comic/dramatic figure of Falstaffian proportions. Once again, I feel urged on to watch the BBC version now to see if this alters my understanding. After all, I reiterate that this is not literature, it is drama. It is written for the purpose of being performed and, since a playwright is not a novelist, he expects the experience to be fuller, richer, and closer to his intent for the experience, in performance.
Martin,
My objection to critics is, indeed, specific to professional critics. I am well aware that Pope, who practiced the art form himself, also critiqued his fellows and that is far more legitimate than the breed I decry. Poe and Orwell also wrote criticism legitimately because, if asked to "go thou and do better", they could.
The critics I respect the most are the editorialists for Cahiers Du Cinema who all went on to become filmic artists in their own right. And, while I find Godard, overblwon, overrated, and pretentious, Truffaut deserves every ounce of his reputation as a cinematic master.
But Candy is quite right about critics' need to equate negativity with sophistication and this is a trait most inherent in professional critics of the ilk I decry. The notion of, "Well these fools all think such-and-such is good art but I, the genius, know better." And it is worth remembering that professional critics are wordsmiths as well and are just as capable as the rest of us of falling in love with the sound of their own voices and their own cleverness. All too often, this becomes the motivating force behind their work rather than an honest appraisal of the work they critique. The Popes and Poes of the world are more trustworthy because they no not to impose upon others what they would not want imposed upon their own work. Rather biblical when you think about it.
As Lieutenant Columbo would say, "Oh! Just one more thing!"Candy, you make a very interesting comment about this being Parolles and Helena's story more than the others. As I mentioned earlier, seeing the play in performance may help bring such a state to light for me (or help me to refute the claim as the case may be -- my crystal ball is in the shop).
But, thinking about Bertram's catalystic decision, this makes me think about another play, Arthur Miller's The Crucible. While it is first and foremost, John and Elizabeth's story, I still think of Abigail's mischief as setting everything in motion and, thus, find it perfectly acceptable that so much is written and discussed about her even though the Proctors are the leads.
Hey, Matthew, I don't think we're too much in disagreement here. About critics, I remember reading when I was a teenager an angry and brilliant article my Sam Wanamker, in which he demonstrated how so many of the newspaper drama critics of his time were in fact failed directors. Critics who could write of "All's Well",
"The rude nature of its plot has banished this play, notwithstanding some fine poetry, from the modern stage" (The Athenaeum, 4 September 1852).
(See http://www.rsc.org.uk/allswell/about/... -- a very interesting article.)
I think this is the race of critics you despise, and I would agree. But there is good, indeed great criticism. Empson's "Seven types of abiguity" for example. A difficult but very rewarding read.
As for Bertram, I am happy to concede the point and admit him a rotter for peace's sake -- if peace is what we want!
Candy I thought the ideas in your last post (I mean 2nd half of 172) most interesting. Parolles was certainly seen as the main interest of the play for theatre-goers. Charles I wrote "Parolles" as an alternative title in his copy of Shakespeare. (This is all in the G.K. Hunter intro).
Again from the rsc article:
"Shakespeare's most Chekhovian Play",
-- which is interesting, whether you agree or not. In Chekhov, the characters are weighted equally, which makes Lavache as important as Bertram -- and Matthew was asking about this idea of mine, so ...
I thought of Lavache as an optional extra to begin with. But if you look at what he says, he offers a topsy-turvy morality of Christian charity, mixed in with a lot of devil worship. He recognises Parolles as a fool and rogue like himself (in 2.4), and indeed the pair converge at the end. Everyone calls Parolles a rogue except Bertram (until Parolles is exposed). Everyone calls Lavache a rogue except Helena, who treats him kindly. He is a superannuated clown, which must be bitter for him. He is put to other tasks in the Countess's household. He loses much in the BBC production by not being a professional clown. For example, clowns carried a bauble, a small head on a round stick. When Lavache says to Lafew,
"I would give his wife my bauble, sir, to do her service"
I take it that Lavache turns the thing round to show Lafew the stick end, and indicates how she could use it as a dildo. (Offering the dildo is charity, which is what I meant about "topsy-turvy Christianity"). Of course immediately afterwards he admits devil worship:
"I can serve as great a prince as you are"
and so on.
You could interpret Lavache as someone who preaches a kind of literal Christianity that seems satanic, in a world that follows a perverted Christianity that is satanic.
What is this, the Middle East??? Nobody wants peace in a Shakespeare discussion! A good argument is the best thing about this kind of dialogue. Can you imagine Joe Frazier and Muhammed Ali in the boxing ring suddenly saying "I'll concede this match to you in the interests of peace"?A good, interesting argument, in this context, is about exploring the different perspectives we have on the the characters and their relationships. I don't expect to convince anyone of anything or vice-versa. It's not that kind of argument; there's no winning or losing here. Or do I mistake the situation.
On that note, I am willing to concede (not in the interests of peace but rather those of honesty and edification) that professional criticism may have some potential benefits. It's a thorny path, for there are many more critics of the ilk Wanamaker exposes than the other kind (or, at least, they are more vocal and more influential). But I can appreciate that a "good critic" may help call our attention to interesting points and ideas not already obvious or prevalent.
I am fascinated by this idea that AWTEW is "Shakespeare's most Chekhovian play". This, more than anything yet, makes me want to get down to the library and check out the BBC version (sadly, I don't think I can get there until Tuesday). In the case of Chekhov, performance is not merely advantageous but essential. I have never once enjoyed reading Chekhov; he loses everything on paper. Only when embodied by performers do his creations resonate with me. Like Prometheus, good actors breathe life into his work.
Yes, I want peace! I'm 65 and too old for wrangling. (If you don't agree to a peace I'll thump you!)
I can appreciate that a "good critic" may help call our attention to interesting points and ideas not already obvious or prevalent.
Well that's the whole point of course. Here's an example, Matthew. In 5.3 (line 40) the King says to Bertram,
For we are old, and on our quickest decrees
The inaudible and noiseless foot of time
Steals ere we can effect them.
As I read this, "noiseless" merely reinforces "inaudible". The words are synonyms and I pass over them without further thought. But Empson (in Seven types of ambiguity), points out that "inaudible" means we don't hear it, while "noiseless" means it doesn't in any case make any sound. They combine to give a sense of the hoplessness of trying to combat Time, and leave us (or the King) with a sense of melancholy. Time is inexorable.
But from these suggestions of Empson we independently discover other things here. The foot of Time stealing, is Time moving by stealth, but stealing also means robbery, and Time robs us of so many things as we grow older (such as our desire to wrangle -- see above). "quick" means living, and Time will rob us of that too.
It would not be an exaggeration to say that from Empson's criticism one can actually learn how to read poetry.
Mod
It's so unfair! It's Saturday, and I have to go get 6 passport photostaken...and get some organic groceries...and do some laudry. Drats cruel world.
I am dying to post somethoughts here...but I DO have to take care of some business. I've read each now post and I am really pleased and stimulated by what I've read.
I am totally fine with disagreements...one is because I tend to be a fairly opinionated person about certain things...so I kind of know that another reader is going respond or not etc.
Matthew...I have many thoughts of what you have written and my only thing I can say at this second...under time restraint is...
A qaulifier. Perhaps literature isn't the most anthropological word I could use in attempting to reconcile meduims such as film, plays, novel, poems and music...for me, these all fall into the oral tradition.
In this way, I can not argue massively against your post #174. In so many ways I absolutely agree. I think I will need to read the section where you articulate between the themes there to understand the characters...vesus my feeling that the characters are there to help propel exploring themes. I think this is a very funny and interesting difference of perspective...and it's going to fill my head with thoughts while I run my errands this afternoon.
And...I will give some more thougts to why I feel the play is so much Helena's and Parolles...as two players interwoven if you will...or as fragments of a mirrored room. They are the mirrors facing each other. I believe that both characters we see them have a transformative experience learning through their own motives and wills...and through being "exposed".
Bertram I am agreeing if he wasn't the conflict or so highly stubborn or willful himself...we wouldn't even have the story/play. I get that and am fine with giving him the credit of will and conflict. But his transformation isn't as followed/studied as we see Helena and Parolles.
I do not mean to "dismiss" Bertram...only that he is the conflict but not the main character.
But I must run...
:)
Mod
Critics such...and I would add John Ruskin , Peter Fuller, Roger Ebert Harold Bloom, as the kind of critics who want to feel. Who see artand stories as transformative objects...agree or disagree with their actual opinions or taste:they are philosophical and emotional audiences.
okay okay blah blah blah...now I am getting and revealing just how flaky I am
Cheers sports fans...and of course it's pissing rain out and I've got to walk to the passport photo joint...
Wow, Candy!Very interesting take on Parolles and Helena. I can't even make any agreement/disagreement comment because I have to chew on the statements. They are beyond what I had considered.
I really feel that my learning is going to be a tad stunted until I see this piece performed. I'm at that point where the naked text has informed me of everything it's going to and the next step needs to be taken.
Come to think of it, I don't remember if Martin mentioned who plays Helena in the BBC version. Interesting character to omit, no?
The Helena part is Angela Down. She is rather forgotten now, but was very big in eighties.
I had forgotten that Matthew had not yet seen it.
Mod
p.s. One of the reasons I feel Parolles and Helena are mirrors, is because of the first scene of them talking about virginity...especially in the movie version. I felt as if Helena understood Parollles, maybe even saw herself in him. They are both schemers at the very least...and scheming for their own benefit and place. They both have lied to get what they want...
I have just read the Introduction to the New Penguin Shakespeare AWTEW of 1970 by Barbara Everett (she was a professor at Oxford). Interestingly, her view almost exactly matches Candy's. She says,
"Parolles, it seems, must have come into being as a dramatic counterpoise and antithesis to Helena."
Helena, and her opposite Parolles, dominate the play. Instead of Everett closing in on the issue of Berram's charater, she just sees Bertram as someone who can choose between the two life-directions which these characters represent.
What I notice repeatedly is that men close in on Bertram; women don't worry so much. Here is the great Dr Johnson on the play,
"I cannot reconcile my heart to Bertram; a man noble without generosity, and young without truth, who marries Helen as a coward and leaves her as a profligate: when she is dead by his unkindness, sneaks home to a second marriage, is accused by a woman he has wronged, defends himself by falsehood, and is dismissed to happiness."
This sets the tone of (male) criticism up to about 1950. Tillyard is at the end of a line. Then women increasingly enter the critical scene, and there seems to be a thaw.
Everett points out that Boccaccio's tale is less worrying than Shakespeare's. I noticed that too, and felt that if Matthew only knew Bertram from that tale he would not have protested so much. But why should that be? Everett points out the answer. Boccaccio smoothly adapts the primitive folk tale he is telling to his own times. Shakespeare deliberately does not do so. The old story sits in his modern setting in its raw form, and draws attention to itself.
Everett's essay is full of insights. It would take too long to summarise it, but one thing I will mention (I was so pleased to see it):
You'll recall Lavache explains "Oh Lord, Sir" as the courtier's answer to every question. I didn't see anything of significance in that. Everett points out that Parolles says it at his moment of greatest torment:
The soldier: There is no remedy, sir, but you must die: the general says, you that have so traitorously discovered the secrets of your army and made such pestiferous reports of men very nobly held, can serve the world for no honest use; therefore you must die. Come, headsman, off with his head.
Parolles: O Lord, sir, let me live, or let me see my death!
Candy,What an interesting interpretation. And yes, I can see it. Not only do they both resort to lies and trickery, but they do it to escape torture; in one case physical and in the other case emotional. Yet Parolles continues to get the dirty end of the stick while Helena gets to be seen as the noble heroine.
One benefit of living in New York is I virtually never have to worry about inter-library loan. The NYPL has four or five copies of the BBC broadcast. Alas, all of them are checked out at the moment (I suppose that's encouraging) but I have one on hold and will receive notice when it comes in.
Martin,
The name, Angela Down, does not ring a bell with me. I'll have to investigate further and see if I know her work.
I wonder why the men are so much quicker to condemn Bertram than the women (or why the women are so much slower than the men, depending on perspective). After all, the main provocation is the way he, a man, treats a woman. Perhaps we flatter ourselves that we would do better or at least that we know a good catch when we see one.
On the flip side, the more Freudian notion could be that any man who has ever been unkind to a woman (which is most of us if we are honest about our misspent youth) lashes out against his own guilt when he sees it displayed so unrepentantly by another.
Johnson's quote seems to hit the nail pretty squarely on the head for me except with respect to the opening description, "noble without generosity". This actually supports Bertram's bigoted attachment to class distinctions. Where I come from, nobility is reflected by your actions, not your birth. To be noble without generosity is a contradiction. The nobility of which Johnson speaks is one of unchosen responsibilities saddled upon you at birth. If Bertram is to be interpreted as refusing Helena out of a spirit of rebellion, he becomes more admirable for more reasons than just the elimination of vice. He also seeks to embrace a chosen destiny rather than a pre-determined one. Like Shakespeare himself, this would display Bertram as well ahead of his time. But, given the text, that still strikes me as a bit of a stretch.
I am accustomed to seeing Ian Charleson play gentle souls of great conscience so it will be very interesting to see whether he stays in keeping with those traits or goes against them in his interpretation.
I have really enjoyed reading these last few posts. It is interesting that while Helena is tortured emotionally, she has (unlike Parolles) no fear of physical torture, as she offers the King,"With vilest torture let my life be ended."
Going back to Everett, she also makes the connection between Helena and Venus. It is of course very fanciful, but you could connect Parolles with Mercury (God of rogues), Helena with Venus, Bertram with Mars, Diana with Diana (the moon, chastity), the King with Jupiter (power), Lafew with Saturn (age). Unfortunately there seems to be no place for the Countess or Lavache. And unfortunately Mercury and Venus do not halt and go into retrograde motion, whereas I would say that in Helena's course through the play she often seems to.
Mod
Ah, Matthew, good to hear you will be able to track down a version. I can't wait to hear your responses to the film.
Matthew, I am not so easy going on Bertram and what is hilarious is...all this time, I thought our disagreements of any kind here had been that I felt much more harsh on him, than the others here! I had the impression he was being defended as "rejecting authority". I have a feeling I may have been way more dismissive of Bertram because I totally saw him as a very believable guy of a certain kind. He is sexist, in that he pretends he doesn't want mariage, but as soon as a woman of his stereotypical appearance comes long, he is all over her. He is snobby by believing he can choose love within his own class: this is also off-putting to the higher calling, or idealistic/poetic concept that love is more powerful than ego. In short, Bertram is the kind of person, I could probably pal around with, but I would never date as he's superficial and a "dawg"...and I would advise girlfriends to avoid. We would go dancing but nothing else. :)
I am still intrigued by the King's discussion of honor and a previous generation. I feel as if "modernity" was being brought to task and had the feeling a case could be made that Bertram represented the idea of modernity...which is crazy I know..because we didn't have that philosophy until last century or so. Or did we? Shakespeare tests me by suggesting he already noticed modernity!
And for me another disagreement here that I perceived...with curiousity...is that I feel more tested by Helena. There are many games women might play...not all women, just as Bertram doesn't represent all guys, Helena doesn't represent all girls...but she is familiar. Women who will find out what clubs, or restaurants a man they are interested in hangs out in...and they and their girlfriends coincidently show up there. A typical move for a "manipulating" type of gal. I think it's kind of funny actually that here Helen falls into a very stereotype that a lot of women have fought to say isn't true...and she appears to not only be a bit of a heroine, to be a sympathetic character but she also gets her way/man!
In many ways...as I was reading the play I was squirming when she wants to trick Bertram into bed. Not that some viewers might not think he deserves to be tricked and outwitted. He just might. But it's so wrong what she did...and yet...it's "legal". I believe it's just not cool what Helena did, but it's great comedy and suspense for a story. And I found it emotionally truthful and familiar. I've known many girls who got involved in all kinds of intrigue to try and catch the attentions of a boy. But it does make me squirm.
Martin, I feel that much of the work has these elements of celestial activity. I feel it's a huge aspect of the structure of the plays and very significant to me. I try not to focus on this part of his writing though...because it's kind of distracting. But let me say how of course the characters have these allegiances with the sky: it was very trendy during this time to study Elizabethan occult philosophy which flirted with Hermetic Tradition. "As above so below" is a tenet of the philosophies in vogue with some folks. And obviously we have the lines "all the worlds a stage, and we are the players" and the theatre is called Globe. I could spend an awful...boring long time on this topic but it's a bit of a distraction for discussion purposes and it's part of a more formal work I am doing on Shakespeare in a film. I hate to ramble on but you did bring it up again and I can't resist!
Candy, you are quite right that Bertram was being defended... but not by me!But your analysis of Helena continues to fascinate. The way you describe her (textually accurate to be sure) sounds so much less sympathetic than she actually appears to be. And that's good because it shows -- for Parolles too, one hopes -- that actions traditionally associated with rogues and villains need not always be so. Adding complexity is always a good thing.
I alluded to this earlier but should reiterate that one of my complaints with the play is that Helena's great romantic perseverance is bestowed upon such an undeserving object of her affection. Seeing Helen in this new light makes that matter less.
Mod
Matthew, it takes me awhile to put ideas and opinions with names in online bookclubs. I kind of am a slow learner about many things...and it takes me a while to sort out who said what etc. I've scrolled back to sort things out...but am unable to sort it out at this late point. As I am getting familiar with the folks in this discussion group I am also getting familiar with their styles of writing and ideas.
I think that Helena is so fixated on such a potentially unworthy suitor is part of the dark comedy. Oh my god...I don't know about you...but I've had many a girl friend who was wrapped up in some pill of a man. And you couldn't shake her resolve. He was the bomb and no one else would do. Again, I believe the leap I took to accepting these characters without too much analysis or hesitation was that I felt they were very familiar people for me.
Just recently I watched Forgetting Sarah Marshall (which has a strangley Shaksepeare feel to it, with kooky plots and character tricks) and the title character, although not the protagonist of the story is attracted to the most ridiculous fellow. It makes for the story being quite hilarious...and one questions why our hero was ever involved with her she had such bad taste in men!
In "AWTEW" the idea that Helen is doing such very wrong things and yet is a sympathetic character is an interesting development. It puts part of this structure of the play dangerously close to the themes and interests of film noir. I find it interesting when a comedy is so dark and we can see it's concerns so closely aligned to a genre we normally associate with being more "truthful" or more important.
The "vanitas" or objects used in memento mori are very good choices in the BBC version ...remember to notice them Matthew...because I think it was a clever addition reminding us of the dark side of this comedy.
Mod
You know...there is another perplexing subject alluded to in this play. Incest. There are a couple of times, when the Countess says to helen she is a mother/daughter and Helen is so turned off. The scene between the King and Helen in the BBC version where their time together is very sexual and the age difference conjures father daughter images. I have wondered since Helen wanted to reject the Countess as her mother because she felt it made her a sister to Bertram...if this doesn't help us see why Bertram was offended at being paired with Helen?
Perhaps Bertram was reacting to having grown up as a brother to Helen. But...it is only in that scene between the Countess showing affection to Helen by saying she feels to be a mother...there is no support of this from Bertrams portrayal. Is THAT enough "evidence" to cut some slack to Bertram?
:)
Matthew wrote: You mention that two approaches to Shakespeare are through character and through performance. I'm not sure that I agree that these are two. It is, after all, the function of a performer to embody and inhabit the character.I've been considering what you wrote, Matthew, and want to say that I agree, though that seems somewhat beside the point.
I principally want to explain that the notion of character I intended includes those characters that are (more or less) full-blown, but not at all character "types" or stereotypical characters.
My interest then in AWTEW: from the point of view of character, it includes Helena and Parolles, especially, and to a lesser extent the Countess, the King, and a few others; from the point of view of performance, it takes in the entire play, the characters, the plot, and all the rest (including Lighting, Art Direction, and Set Decoration) as a (more or less) coherent whole.
I'm not convinced that all this was worth the time it took to write it, but having considered it for so long, I couldn't resist.
I do not believe that any characters should be interpreted as "types" or "stereotypical". If they lend themselves to such interpretation, it reflects a weakness in the writing. As an actor, I have never interpreted any character I played as a type and, as a director, I have never encouraged nor accepted such an interpretation from my actors. Every character written in a play should be seen as a flesh-and-blood human being.This does not mean that every character's perspective on the action will be equally relevent to a discussion like this one. There is a reason why we have protagonists and "leads". Every writer decides whose story he's telling.
Production values (such as lighting, set design, etc.) can be stunningly beautiful or cripplingly ordinary. But, at best, they should be essentially invisible. They should serve the story that every member of the production is committed to assist in the telling rather than calling attention to themselves. Just like acting and directing, the designers' art lies in the concealing of the art.
Yes, of course, in a performance of a play, every role is realized or interpreted by a live actor.So, what I am saying is this: my approach to Shakespeare through characters is an approach via the text, not an approach via a performance. Hence, for me, Helena and Paroles, principally, are the characters in which I have an interest.
The basis of my interest is a very personal one related to a research pursuit in behavioural psychology. I don't expect others to share this pursuit; hence, I'm not surprised if they don't share an interest in my approach. But, one never knows unless the subject surfaces, which is obviously has.
William, one of us is not understanding the other. I think I am the one who is failing miserably in making myself understood. Let me try another way:All approaches to a play should be to the text. In the beginning was the word and the word was God, so to speak. I am not suggesting that the performance should be more important than the text but, rather, that it should serve and enhance the text.
No, that's not right either. I don't mean "enhance". Rather, I believe that the text can only be fully understood and appreciated when experienced through performance rather than merely reading.
Behavioral psychology is, without a doubt, a worthy field of study and a monumentally valuable perspective from which to approach a play. But even that will be better served by seeing the play rather than merely reading it.
Regardless of whether we see a play or read it, however, my principal desire in my earlier post is to caution you (and all of us) against thinking of any characters as merely "types". To do so not only does the playwright/character a disservice but, more importantly and to the point, does a disservice to ourselves as readers/audience.
This is not to say that one character will not naturally be more interesting to us personally. Once again, there is a reason why the play is not told from the perspective of Lavache. And, on that note, some characters (like most of Shakespeare's clowns) are far more satisfying to us while stealing the show rather than carrying it. That's perfectly fine. No one would read Arthur Conan Doyle if he put all his focus on the Third Irregular from the Left.
What all this boils down to is that, even if we are only reading a piece and, even if we do focus on two or three characters more than the rest, we still want to render unto Caesar that which is Caesar's and grant every character the status of flesh and blood within the context of the story itself.
Here is a comment about the BBC production, which I don't recall was previously posted or referenced. It appears on the web site eNotes.com:Elijah Moshinsky's 1980 BBC Television version of the play is considered by many commentators to have been among the most successful productions in the BBC Shakespeare series. Critics particularly praised the director's highlighting of the domestic nature of the play through a sensitive use of lighting and the framing scenes in a manner that evoked seventeenth-century Dutch painting. Reviewers were less united in their appraisal of the production's performances, however. While Kenneth S. Rothwell deemed Ian Charleson "superb as the snotty Bertram," G. M. Pearce maintained that Charleson's sullen portrayal of the young man struck "the only discordant note" in the production. Critics were similarly divided over Donald Sinden's fruity rendering of the King, which Jeremy Treglown characterized as both lecherous and "hammy." Angela Downs's Helena impressed commentators with her crafty intelligence and serenity. Rothwell noted that her "plain, spinsterish, puritanical face with the unruly strands of hair conceals a volcanic disposition." Other favorably reviewed performances were Michael Hordern's Lafew, Celia Johnson's Countess; and Peter Jeffrey's Parolles. In explaining the success of Moshinsky's translation of the play into the medium of television, G. K. Hunter concluded that it seems "to accept the inevitable diminution in theatrical power that the translation involves, and tries to invent new relationships which will … compensate for that loss."
"All's Well That Ends Well" Shakespearean Criticism. Ed. Michael Magoulias. Vol. 26. Gale Cengage, 1995. eNotes.com. 2006. 10 Mar, 2009
Here's a link to the entire article, which discusses productions of AWTEW from 1741 forward:
http://www.enotes.com/shakespearean-c...
Candy gave me a link to this site, which has much material on Shakespearian criticism.
Celia Johnson?!?!?! I adore Celia Johnson!!! Oh, I'm going to love this!
There is no way, Matthew, that I will allow you to assume any more than half the burden of cleaning up the mess we have made over the issue of whether some characters are "types". You have worked hard to make sense of this to me. Let me have a go at making sense of it to you.Whether or not some characters in the plays are "types" is a judgment made by people who have an interest in such matters. You, quite obviously, have such an interest; I have none. Your quarrel over this matter, then, is with others and your caution against thinking that any character is a "type" needs to be directed to them.
I myself used the term "type" as a shorthand way of distinguishing some characters from others, which I described as "more or less full-blown." As examples of full-blown characters, I specified Helena and Parolles in AWTEW. These two characters permit us entry into their consciousness and allow us access to their thoughts. In doing so, they reveal to us their humanity in its fullness. Other characters, such as Bertram, reveal themselves only indirectly and partially. Still others do not reveal themselves at all. These last are what I meant by "types" or stereotypical characters.
When I am approaching a play through the psychology of its characters, my interest is only in the (usually few) full-blown characters. The others can, for my purposes, be replaced by plot summaries: so-and-so said such-and-such and did this-and-that.
Bizarre? Perhaps, but now, I hope, clear.
What, Matthew, do you think about Hunter's judgment that translation from stage to television inevitably involves a diminution of theatrical power? Hunter is the editor of the Arden edition of AWTEW that I used and which Martin also accessed.I'm wondering: is Hunter's judgment houseborn or is it something that is, to an actor or director, a commonplace? Does it have roots in McLuhan?? Or what???
It had not occurred to me that we might mean very different things when using the term "type" or "stereotype". Obviously, one should always concentrate on the object of one's interest. If you find one character more interesting because of how much he has revealed himself than another, by all means let him be the focus of your study.My only remaining note (at least for the moment, at this late hour) is not to be too discouraged from studying a character simply because he does not reveal himself fully. I had a fascinating conversation yesterday with a visual artist (drawing, sculpture, photography, multi-media, a very versatile young man). He talked about how the viewer and his emotional and intellectual reaction to a piece essentially "finishes the work". I was very drawn to this idea. Art, after all (including the literary and dramatic arts), is a form of communication. Like the tango, it takes two. The work is unfinished until it is viewed and the viewer puts the finishing touches on. By the same token, if a character in a play does not reveal himself as fully as another, let us take that as a challenge to dig a little deeper than is required with those others. A character is not necessarily any less fully developed or "full-blown" simply because he is less fully revealed.
In a way, I wonder if I am more drawn to the study of Bertram than Parolles or Helena precisely because he is less fully revealed. I haven't had much to say about those other two because they seem to speak for themselves quite sufficiently. There's not much left for me to add to finish the work. But Bertram's mysteries require a bit more unravelling.
As for William's other question: I am not all that familiar with Hunter -- though I certainly have had plenty of experience with the Arden editions and find them quite good -- but the notion of television and film having less legitimacy or power than the stage is a fairly popular one.
The simple answer is to say I disagree. But, of course, there's more to it than that. The only way film or TV diminish the stage's power is in the lack of immediacy. There is something magical about the live element, being in the same room, breathing the same air as those whose story unfolds before you that cannot be replaced. However, recorded media makes up for this in other ways. There are elements of polish and completeness that can be quite valuable to the telling of a story. A stage designer may, through limited budget, need to settle for the mere suggestion of a castle or a forest. On film, the literal presentation of these atmospheres provides a strong new dimension. So both mediums have their strengths and weaknesses. Neither one is "better" than the other; they are merely different.
Many actors and directors get pretentious about the stage, insisting that it has some intrinsic or inherent superiority to film. Some of the greatest actors of our day, such as Ben Kingsley and Anthony Hopkins, have rebelled against this, abandoning stage exclusively for film, partly out of protest against this prejudice (they have said so in interviews).
At the end of the day, regardless of the medium, this is all about the telling of a story. Indeed, though I've been on my soapbox recently about the importance of seeing a play rather than reading it, I will admit that even reading is a way to experience the story and is better than not having that story in your life at all. But first things first: Bring the story to the audience. How you do it is a matter of personal expression and logistical opportunity, rather than a question of which medium is more prestigious.
Well, I think William has got it completely wrong here. There are no "stereotype" characters in Shakespeare, however he chooses to define "sterotype". That is everybody's reading experience, and has been for centuries. One must quote again the famous words of Alexander Pope (writing in 1725),"Every single character in Shakespear is as much an Individual as those in Life itself; it is impossible to find any two alike; and such as from their relation or affinity in any respect appear most to be Twins, will upon comparison be found remarkably distinct. To this life and variety of Character, we must add the wonderful Preservation of it; which is such throughout his plays, that had all the Speeches been printed without the very names of the Persons, I believe one might have apply'd them with certainty to every speaker."
-- end of cut and paste activity.
Matthew's points about the actor's role here seem to me entirely valid. (My daughter is studying drama, and acts, and I know how big a subject this is --- far be it from me to theorise.)
The issue of TV/film versions came up in the "what next?" thread. I think TV (or "made for TV") versions often work very well. But I find "big screen" versions disappointing. The problem is that Shakespeare can create a scene through language, and the visuals put into cinema to give the same effect get in the way ("a storm at sea" for example). The film makers seem to think that with their expensive special effects, you need less script, so the text of the plays is then drastically curtailed. TV versions work well, because the budget is limited. Besides, the plays are written for stage, and use the space that a stage implies, and compromises are necessary when one abandons that space.
But G.K. Hunter's remarks seem a bit sour to me. The version he is criticising was seen as a very important production that changed the way AWTEW is seen. (See the rsc article I linked to above.)
Exactly, Martin! Very well said! You and Pope together have made the point far more clearly than my attempt with "each one is flesh and blood within the context of the story". Thank you.One of the biggest mistakes made in dramatic criticism (amateur or professional) today is the assumption that theatre is any less visual than film. Sure, the scale different, but we still go to the theatre for a visual experience. If Caesar's bloody corpse isn't there before our eyes, hearing Antony compare the sizes of his various wounds would be dull as dishwater.
Martin's complaint with at least some filmmakers is fair, for surely there are those who throw out too much of the play itself in the process of adaptation. But we should be wary of throwing out the baby with the bathwater here. If Shakespeare had been technilogically capable of placing a stormy sea on his stage, I have no doubt he would have done so. He didn't write for the screen only because he pre-dated it, not as an artistic choice.
More importantly though, part of the beauty of film as an art form is that it is the collaboration (indeed, the ultimate collaboration) of many art forms. Music, drama, painting, etc. all come together as one cohesive entertainment and, though I connect to poetry more than I do to painting, I will never contend that one is inherently more legitimate than another. If Franco Zeffirelli is as capable of showing me a richly appointed Renaissance bedchamber as Rembrandt is, there is no reason why he should not do so as a means of enhancing the story.
I love language as much as anyone. It is a very important part of these stories. It may even be the most important part of these stories. But it is not the only important part of these stories. And I strongly suspect that if Shakespeare were here today (via Wells' time machine, perhaps?) and saw the adaptations of his work presented by Zeffirelli, Olivier, Branagh, or Welles, he would be quite pleased.
Mod
And in the same way, that a piece of writing, of music, of speech is not finished until it is viewed, its as if those childhood habits and expression are primal and stay with us as performers and artists. A significant aspect of human bonding occurs with these two way communications.
This is true for Shakespeare's characters as they often are found "learning" about themselves (Or others through overhearing, or conversation) when they speak out loud. The adage..."I don't know what I think until I say it" ?
Martin, what a good example of why some Shakespeare film productions don't seem to work. But I don't think that it's a failed enterprise for all films made out of Shakespeare. I've got to give some more thought to this and no time for now.
