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Oh yes, if Shakespeare were writing his stuff today ....
You may well be right that Shakespeare would have been pleased by the modern film versions of his plays. (I guess he would be amazed and delighted to learn that anything he did was still alive 400 years later.) I suppose I'm just a bit of a misery, but truly I don't greatly like them. Branagh, for instance, is greatly admired in America (if goodreads is anything to go by), but I really can't share the feeling.
On youtube I prefer watching amateur school versions of Shakespeare to the feature film extracts.
But the BBC series did many excellent versions, I must admit. (And some that are very much less than excellent.)
Anyway, Matthew, I am really waiting for you see the BBC AWTEW and get your comments.
Mod
Well, Matthew, we have made progress on this. I'm content to leave things where they rest now, save for a brief anecdote about an acquaintance from school days, who remarked that he had abandoned the study of philosophy and turned to mathematics because he grew tired of hearing the phrase, "but you have completely misunderstood me." Both you and I know why he didn't turn to the study of literature or the theater.At the risk of completely misunderstanding you, Matthew, I rest comfortably with the notion that, because they are so much less fully revealed in the play, you might be much more drawn to the study of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern than Hamlet. Perhaps Stoppard wrote his play for some such reason--do you know? Or was it because of something more incidental/accidental, as with Peter Shafer and Equus?
But do I need say something to disabuse Martin from his (mis)understanding that the notion of character "types" is mine and for which he takes me to task? I think not. My reading of Shakespearian criticism is neither broad nor deep. Even so, I have happened more than once on the notion of characters in the plays as "types", so I think, Martin, that you, too, must be familiar enough with this notion to know that it is not mine. Hence, your dispute about stereotypical chracters is with someone else.
I merely appropriated the notion of character "types" for my own purposes. Wasn't it Humpty Dumpty who said that when he used a word it meant just what he chose it to mean, neither more nor less? Well, Humpty hopes that all this has been clear and distinct.
Actually, Kenneth Branagh is a fairly controversial figure, at least here in New York (my vision of the rest of the country is skewed through a New York lens). I adore him beyond all measure but there are many of my friends and colleagues who do not.Interestingly, most of Branagh's detractors consider his one good directorial effort to be his first, Henry V. This is telling when watching the nine movies he has directed in chronological order (both Shakespeare and non). Henry V is by far the least Branaghesque of the bunch. It has the smallest amount of humor (Branagh is a very funny man), it is the most straightforward (no playing with time and place), it features no tributes to other directors (Dead Again is very Victor Fleming, Hamlet is very David Lean, Love's Labors Lost is very Busby Berkely, etc.), it is clearly the work of a first-time director still finding his voice. It makes strangely poetic sense that those who don't care for Branagh's aesthetic in general would like this film.
But not liking Shakespeare on the big screen is perfectly fine, Martin. It's like chocolate or vanilla: a matter of taste. I am only seeking to note that there is no intrinsic lack of value in it.
William, you have hit the nail on the head with Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. Though I have other reasons for not being a fan of the Stoppard play, the idea was excellent precisely it does explore these characters who receive such short shrift in the original.
In The Rough Guide to Shakespeare, Andrew Dickson wrote:[Helena:] dons disguise in order to get what she wants--her cover, in a rather poignant gesture to her "sanctifying" of Bertram at the play's outset, being the cloak of a pilgrim. But her stratagem requires that she wear that devout costume rather ironically.
The cloak as reification of forgiveness/redemption/sanctification: just one of many, many connections that I never made. Mustn't give up my day job, eh?!
Okay. It took forever but I’ve finally seen the BBC broadcast. By the time it came in at the library, I was as eager as I’ve been for any such show and very curious to know if it would change my perspective on the play or, at least, its leading man. Instead, it enhanced my first understanding of the play far beyond what I had initially stated.The evil of class distinctions is not merely one of the primary themes of the play. In this production, it is shown to be the predominant and omnipresent theme, constantly on everyone’s mind, expressed by nearly every character, and a guiding force in the lives of both the primary and secondary protagonists.
When experiencing a cohesive work of drama, presented before us in a single sitting, it is given a reflective rhythm that the one-scene-per-two-days structure lacks. The thematic seeds of each scene are sewn in the previous one in a way that is harder to forget when we experience them in short order.
The scene that sparked so much controversy earlier in this conversation is handled in direct connection to the earlier scene in which we meet the king. When he greets Bertram, he waxes poetic about the young man’s late father and the humility he exhibited. As Donald Sinden delivers it, he clearly is hinting at the hope that Bertram will follow in his father’s shoes:
“So like a courtier, contempt nor bitterness
Were in his pride or sharpness; if they were,
His equal had awak'd them; and his honour,
Clock to itself, knew the true minute when
Exception bid him speak, and at this time
His tongue obey'd his hand. Who were below him
He us'd as creatures of another place;
And bow'd his eminent top to their low ranks,
Making them proud of his humility
In their poor praise he humbled.”
When Bertram makes his decisions based on his insistence to keep his nose in the air, the king is visibly disappointed and the young man has let the memory of his father down. In the hands of Ian Charleson, Bertram strains to humble himself even at the risk of his life:
“Pardon, my gracious lord; for I submit
My fancy to your eyes. When I consider
What great creation and what dole of honour
Flies where you bid it, I find that she which late
Was in my nobler thoughts most base is now
The praised of the King; who, so ennobled,
Is as 'twere born so.”
Charleson hesitates a moment before saying “born so” as if the concession physically pains him. But, what I had not realized upon reading the play is that he is not the only one.
At her harpsichord (nice touch!), Helena refers to “her love’s ambition” and the desire to “deserve” Bertram. It is offensive to the modern ear (or at least the modern American ear) when class is determined by conduct rather than birth, this notion that Helena doesn’t deserve Bertram when so clearly it is the other way around. Notably, the attitude of breaking down such class distinctions (as always, Shakespeare features characters who are somewhat ahead of their time) is espoused mainly by those who can afford it, those who are highest in their elements – the king and the countess.
Parolles objects to Bertram being referred to as his master, Diana is doubted because of her menial status, and Lavache is a knave due to his poverty. In the final scene, the peasant-style dress of Diana and her family contrasts markedly with the gold velvet of the king and plays up the theme in more than just the text. Class distinctions are quite simply everywhere.
Like most of the over-reverent BBC productions, Shakespeare’s humor is almost completely missed. There’s not much comedy in this comedy but there was when we read it. The only laugh-out-loud moment for me was the dirty handkerchief bit with Michael Hordern at the end.
Peter Jeffrey is a brilliant actor but, frankly, I find him miscast as Parolles. He is twenty years older than Ian Charleson but Parolles and Bertram really should be contemporaries. And he misses the lightness and the comedy of the character. Fascinatingly though, after his fall from grace, he looks almost exactly like Paul Brooke at the end. What I failed to understand is that he may now become a clown in his later years. It leads one to wonder if perhaps Levache had lived through a similar fate in his earlier years.
Speaking of Brooke, I thought he gave the best performance among the men. Droll, if never quite funny, he had the spirit of Levache’s wit. Among the women, the broadcast belongs to the late great Celia Johnson. Ever since Brief Encounter I have been in love with this woman and, even in her grandmotherly years, she is beautiful, dignified, emotionally connected to every syllable and the very embodiment of human dignity in the face of sorrow.
The countess’ dignity is matched by the beautiful young Pippa Guard as Diana, at once wily, sexy, proud, faithful, and luminous. Strangely, I was less impressed with Angela Down’s cerebral and dispassionate Helena (she also played the funniest line of the play with complete seriousness). On top of her performance, I also noted that she is a somewhat plain Jane and not the glamour queen Martin had wanted to show that Bertram’s decision is not in his own best interests.
The theme of redemption that had struck me as fairly prevalent when reading the play is drowned out in this production. Notably, I notice that Parolles is hoodwinked by the French lords and considered a knave for claiming that they are false liars, yet he makes the statement while they are engaged in gross falsehood for no greater motive than their own amusement. He also discusses Bertram’s lascivious advances on Diana and is considered a false knave for that as well, yet the accusation is absolutely true. There isn’t that much to redeem and the penance he pays does not fit the “crime”.
Ian Charleson is most famous for his very gentle and quiet performances in Chariots of Fire and Ghandi so I was well aware that he might change my perception of Bertram. Instead, he changed my perception of Charleson, giving a performance that immediately inspired the word “cold”. He plays a character that might have been interpreted as a hot-head instead as a cold fish. Unfortunately, this extends right to the end. A little more warmth from him might have inspired a little more warmth toward him. By the same token, Donald Sinden was a little too one-note as the king, interpreting virtually everything as royal command. I would have preferred to hear a more congratulatory tone from his command, “Well, young Bertram, take her. She is thy wife.” This would have given a greater contrast between the two halves of the scene and lessened the potential for misinterpretation of Bertram’s motives.
So, a mixed production in all, but I’m very glad to have experienced it. I am very excited about Macbeth because the various opportunities to see it in performance will give us a larger number of demonstrable interpretations to compare and this is an integral part of what makes Shakespeare great.
Well, no, not a harpsichord, but a virginal, as William cleverly pointed out in post #41. Perhaps you intended "virginal" Matthew.Yor second poetic quote can't be right: could you edit?
Woops! Damn cut/paste function. Thank you Martin; good catch. Sorry 'bout that. All quotes are now edited and accurate.Alas, my musical education is insufficient to tell the difference between a harpsichord and a "virginal". William is right that it is even more appropriate but would he be so kind as to illustrate the difference?
The virginal and harpsichord have a similar plucking action, but the sound is surprisingly different. For the virginal in action, see (or rather hear),http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hG2PRl...
The virginal may have been so named because it was seen as a suitable instrument for virgins, hence its appropriateness.
for the harpsichord, by comparison,
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jjYXRm...
Interesting observations above Matthew ...
Harpsichords and virginals: Hmmm. Writing as a consumer rather than a producer of keyboard music, Matthew, I offer the following for your illustrative consumption:-- virginals are smaller in size, the sound produced thereby being itself small in volume;
-- the keyboard is set into the side of the instrument, rather than at the end, the strings, therefore, running transverse to the seated player
My former residence in the counry sported a virginal in the master bedroom, which my wife played with abandon. Opportunity is a fine thing.
Mod
I also found the obvious play on status tied into profoundly the early quote I had posted here from Northrop Frye..."In Shakespeare's society, the first question you would ask yourself about anyone ouwld be: is he or she supieroir, inferiour or equal?".
Yes...it is true that the BBC production interpreted a diffeernt tone to my feeling of humour in the play.
I must say though..that I wonder if I watch it a couple more times, I might not begin to relax and laugh a bit. I think my complaint might agree...that I wish a few situations had been played up as more organically funny....as they seemed reading.
I am so excited about MacBeth too...and have tracked down a couple of film versions already...for later in my reading.
I am so terribly pleased to have met with the fine variety of thinkers and perspectives so far shared here in this reading group. Thanks folks...I am humbled and grateful.
:)
Matthew wrote: The evil of class distinctions is not merely one of the primary themes of the play. In this production, it is shown to be the predominant and omnipresent theme....This seems arguable, though I am not persuaded. However, Bertram certainly shows no evidence of having freed himself from "the evil of class distinctions" by the end of the play. Writing of Bertram's response to Helena's question, "Will you be mine...?" Dickson in The Rough Guide... remarks, "It is striking--and somehow strikingly sad--that he does not even reply directly," but, instead, addresses himself to the King.
William, that's a fair observation though I would say this is one more case of how the theme of redemption is not as prevalent as I had originally imagined. Just as Parolles has been "more sinned against than sinning", Bertram's concession does not redeem him as throughly as it might have with a more sincerely romantic approach.Also, while the statement that "Bertram certainly shows no evidence of having freed himself from 'the evil of class distinctions' by the end of the play" is true, this does not change the play's observation of the same. Shakespeare can study said distinctions and the poison with which they infect those who observe them without changing this state by the play's end.
Much was made earlier in this discussion about the amount of weight I put on Bertram compared to the other characters and, while I maintain his cruciality as a catalyst, I admit this is somewhat fair. It is worth noting how everyone, not just Bertram, handles their interest in these class distinctions. In some cases, it is anything but an attempt to free themselves from them, but rather to accept them (abhorrant as I might personally find such a distinction). Parolles for instance, who had previously been so loath to call Bertram his master, winds up grateful for the chance to call anyone master if it means a hot meal, a solid roof, and a warm bed.
I also noted earlier that the countess and the king -- the two character who can most afford it -- are those who seem most opposed to the class distinctions to which the others so tenaciously cling (yes, even unto the end of the play). The argument could be made that it is a somewhat hollow philosophy they hold when they personally stand to lose so little by espousing it. I am reminded of Gosford Park in which the servants position themselves at the dining table according to the same heirarchy as their masters. Unlike the ruling class, though, the downstairs character observe the social order with far greater rigidity and reverence than those above.
Mod
Earlier when William and I were discussing the idea of "forgiveness" in this play, and he had quoted an "expert" to back up the idea of forgveness as a message in this play...and I felt that it was not so idealistic as that by the end.
I think it's more strategic than idealistic or altruistic. Matthew your example of Parolles prefering/accepting a Master as long as he gets a hot meal is excellent!
I feel as if there is a resignation via empathy. Now...I don't think empathy always has to mean one sees the "good" in another...it's that one sees the emotion and can put themselves in anothers shoes...even under dispicable circumstances...and often...there is a level of acceptance/resignation.
maybe the notion of acceptance isn't so far removed from resignation...and as much as that challenges our desire to believe humans can be altruistic (which we can) or kind(which we can) or equal (which we can)...these notions are relative...they are dependent on economics and attitude much more than on forgiveness...at least in my perspective on this play. And this was in both my feelings reading the paly...and in this BBC production.
It was hard to shake the feeling that as much as I might be idealistic about human interactions, political change...a lot of our "decisions" are still embedded within economic frameworks and social structure that upholds those power positions.
I found the last exchange between Helena and Bertram moving. The director (Mohinsky, was it?) had Bertram stare fixedly into Helena's eyes, take her face gently into his hands, and kiss her. All this, for me, echoed the first contact between the King and Helena. On both these men, she works a kind of magic: they are changed in the twinkling of an eye, and the eye is Helena's.So, for me, in the last scene the class theme is still present because Mohinsky is, after all, stuck with the text of the play. Yet he introduces another, powerful element that transcends class: Bertram remains the upper class twit, but is redeemed through Helena's magic, through her relentless pursuit of him, through her love for him--much as (though I hesitate to add) we, who remain sinful, are yet redeemed by the relentless, magical, loving pursuit by God of our souls.
Or something like that. We don't need to pretend that all of what we say here makes complete sense, do we? Isn't it enough that our words simply hang together till the end of the conversation, much as the costumes on the players need hang together only till the end of the play?
Here, Shakespeare positively bemoans the limitations of his theatre and uses his poetry as a means of complaint and of beseechment that the audience use their imaginations for that which he is so lamentably unable to show them. There is no need for Maurice Evans or Derek Jacobi (in the Olivier and Branagh films respectively) to so beseech because now it is possible to more vividly show that which the confines of the Globe Theatre -- "this unworthy scaffold" -- had so cripplingly prohibited. Today, we have the luxury of telling stories vividly or through metaphor as a matter of choice. Shakespeare was forced into metaphor and, I believe, would have been delighted that the vividity that he so pointedly wished had been available to him now is.