Happy Christmas!

This is just a short entry to wish you all a very Happy Christmas and to let you know that I have not forgotten this blog, even though it may seem I have neglected it of late. This has been due to technical issues and inordinate demands on my time because of family matters and travel. But Shakespeare has been with me all along, and I am now nearing completion of the Collected Works, even though I have not been able to post entries lately. These will appear again soon and in chronological order. I have decided after that to continue the Shakespeare blog and write about various other aspects of his life and work than just the plays, poems and film adaptations that have formed the bulk of this year's posts. I quickly realised that there is just so much that can and should be addressed when it comes to Shakespeare, and one never really finishes with him. So, until the next entry (which will concern Henry V), may I wish you all a very Happy Christmas!

MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING –The One With Shakespeare’s Stupidest Character

Much Ado About Nothing is many people’s favourite Shakespeare comedy, and it certainly has great potential to sparkle on stage given the right actors and energy, but for my part it has not been a play I particularly have cared for or list among my favourite comedies, though I have never really been able to pin down why –perhaps it is just that I like some of the others so much better, or identify with characters in them more than in this play where I struggle to find a sympathetic ”guide” to drag me along into this particular world and milieu.

However, upon reading it afresh I have come to appreciate it more, not least for its fine balance of comedy and drama, though I find it hard with this play in particular to get certain performances I have seen out of my mind. And this is probably because Much Ado About Nothing, more than many other Shakespeare plays (and that’s including other comedies) cries out to be performed and really only works and blooms when it does. The playfulness of the comedy, and in particular the fast exchanges between Beatrice and Benedick need to be staged to be fully enjoyed. And yet and close reading reveals the skill with which Shakespeare constructs their ripostes and allows us to appreciate more of the many puns and twists of language that he employs –which in performance frequently hurtle past us so fast that we can only just take them in before the next one whizzes towards us. And the comic dexterity here is sharp and delicious –less ornate and ”showy-offy” than in Love’s Labour’s Lost, and in no way as trite as in for instance The Merry Wives of Windsor. The comedy (and here I refer to the scenes and story between Beatrice and Benedick) is modern, instantly grasped and delightful not only to the audience/reader, but also to the other characters of the play, some of whom delight in matching these two supposed ”opposites” together.

But, and it is sometimes hard to remember, the play is not essentially about Beatrice and Benedick, even though they are the characters who everyone remembers. They are actually ”supporting characters” –but, just like in so many Hollywood romantic comedies– it is the supporting characters who steal the show. The ”main” love story of Much Ado About Nothing is between Hero and Claudio –the young sweethearts– and their path to love has to pass through far darker woods than those of Beatrice and Benedick. At times we are almost in Romeo and Juliet territory, and there are certainly strong thematic links between the two plays. And there is even more darkness here –the fascinating and hard-to-grasp character of Don John; a man who is one of Shakespeare’s absolute darkest creations –there is an unwritten play in his life story. And though he supposedly comes good in the end, I wonder…

And then we come to Dogberry…

Well, Dogberry is the stupidest character in all of Shakespeare. That’s pretty much without a doubt as far as I am concerned. I have carefully considered possible other contenders for that title and no one comes close. There are all manner of FOOLISH people in Shakespeare (and none of the ”fools” are at all stupid) –Sir Andrew Aguecheek, for instance, and plenty of gullible, clownish, naive and feeble-minded poor dears, but there are all relatively few plain STUPID characters. And what makes Dogberry particularly stupid is that he flaunts his stupidity in the guise of believing himself to be much more intelligent than he is –and primarily because as constable he has been given a position of (small) power. Stick a moron in a uniform or give them a badge and they think they’re God Almighty! One feels sure Shakespeare must have encountered such characters in his daily life, for the portrayal is wickedly funny, but one does so want to slap/smack him (Dogberry, that is, not Shakespeare). I rate it as another sign of Shakespeare’s supreme gift of universality –he fills his plays with all kinds of people, and, with a very, very few exceptions he is always fair to his characters in that he presents them honestly, no matter how important, grand, slight, flawed or, in this case, plain stupid they may be. But Dogberry’s stupidity and petty bureaucratic power-trip and failure to act almost causes tragic consequences in the central ”love plot” of the two young main characters. Without his stupidity there would be no drama, so he is thus an important character in the unfolding of the story.

Yet Dogberry is the kind of character who would puff and peacock himself precisely because I have just called him the stupidest character in all of Shakespeare. He would consider that a great honour! And Dogberry, dastardly, thick and annoying as he is is not a caricature –he just happens to be that way, poor sod! And there are such people in the world; believe me, I’ve met them!

Favourite Line:

Beatrice:
I am gone, though I am here.
(Act 4, Sc.1)
(and add most of Benedick’s speeches)

Character I would most like to play: Benedick

HENRY IV PART TWO –The One With Rumour and a Trailer!

Henry IV Part Two starts with a very intriguing, and for Shakespeare unique, prologue. The stage direction: Enter RUMOUR, painted full of tongues really says it all. This is an innovation more associated with classical, and especially Roman, theatre –a characterization of an abstract. Shakespeare has used prologues before (for example in Romeo and Juliet) and the technique will be further continued and reach its highest narrative effect in Henry V, but unlike in those plays, Rumour here makes only this one appearance, at the beginning of a play. As a theatre technique its novelty would certainly get the audience’s attention (as it does the reader), for the image is very striking, and it magnificently sets the stage for what is to come. What I particularly like, though, is that Shakespeare is clearly eager to experiment, and try new things, new ways of bringing his audience in. It’s an avantgarde device, in an otherwise narratively quite straightforward play, though –another typically shrewd Shakespeare stroke of commercial savvy – the play ends with what can only be described as a trailer –an unashamed plug for the next ”episode” –that of Henry V. This epilogue is sometimes spoken by the ”Rumour” character of the prologue, and that would seem to satisfy a desire for neatness (and economy) on the part of a director, but it is not made explicit in the text that these two speeches are given by the same character.

The play itself continues the story of Henry IV and the events leading up to his death and the accession of his son Hal to the throne, as Henry V. Like Part One, the story is both intimate and familial, with the scenes between father and son, being particularly brilliant, and sprawling on a fairly grand scale. Thus, there are family squabbles and battles, and though the play is generally darker than part one, there are numerous scenes and moments of comedy, naturally often involving Falstaff. Yet Falstaff’s comic trajectory takes a nose-dive in this play when he is rejected by the newly crowned king, and he is left a broken man. And because we have come to love this rogue, we cannot but feel a sense of sympathy with him in the final instance, even though we may equally understand the reasons the new king (Prince Hal) must shake off his ”former self” and steer away from those who have been so much a part of his youth. Or do we? Perhaps the new king is too harsh? I have always found his behaviour a little troubling, but Shakespeare is typically brilliant in creating this sometimes unsettling ambiguity in a character who would otherwise be too ”perfect” were he without flaws. I worked quite extensively on Henry/Hal’s character when I was at drama school, and always found this particular play to be the most intriguing of the three he appears in (four if you count his very brief appearance in Richard II).

Shakespeare also shows his theatrical savy by both giving us more of what we liked in Part One, and introducing enough new characters and plot moments to keep us on our toes. Some of the new characters here had actually been introduced in The Merry Wives of Windsor, so they would be quite familar already though in a different context. Justice Shallow, is perhaps my favourite, but we also get the explosive braggart Pistol, whose trajectory will continue through into Henry V. And who can forget the wonderfully named Doll Tearsheet!

Though I admit to liking Henry IV Part One somewhat more than the follow up, that is only a personal preference; both parts compliment each other and together they present a magnificent pageant of a particular time and atmosphere that is unmatched anywhere else in Shakespeare in breadth and development of myriad characters from low to high. And whereas Part One is for me a richer play, Part Two contains more individual scenes, speeches and ”moments” that astound, delight and inspire me upon re-reading it. Of the productions I have seen, I again rate the RSC’s version of the early 1990s as the best, but I have recently been quite pleased with at least large parts of the television version presented in The Hollow Crown, though, of course, I was sad about many of the cuts. I have recently acquired an earlier BBC version of both parts of Henry IV (the published version of which forms the photograph at the top of this entry), but as yet I have not had the opportunity to see it.

Favourite Line:

Falstaff
If I had a thousand sons, the first human principle I would teach them should be to forswear thin potations, and to addict themselves to sack.
(Act IV, Sc.3)

Character I would most like to play: Falstaff or Pistol

THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR –The One Requested By Queen Elizabeth!

At least that’s how the legend goes –Queen Elizabeth I was, apparently, a great fan of Falstaff and famously expressed a desire to see him in love, prompting Shakespeare to write this delightfully frothy, cheeky comedy before completing Henry IV Part Two (which again will feature Falstaff and several other characters who appear in The Merry Wives of Windsor)

Thus, it would seem Shakespeare is pandering directly to his audience, many of whom would doubtless have shared Queen Elizabeth’s wish, and what a great way to do it: Without interfering with the narrative of the historical plays in any way, he keeps it ”hot on the stove” by showing another side of its comic characters, and placing them in a suspiciously more Elizabethan world than the period of the Henry IV plays –without that really making much difference. This is Shakespeare’s first ”spin-off” play! And it’s light, bright and sharp, and wholly rewarding as a theatrical experience.

It’s also great fun to read aloud, with the opportunity to try out many different voices –for here Shakespeare has given us some really golden comic characters to sink our teeth into. And though Falstaff, as expected, dominates and is the crux and butt of the comedy, the supporting characters are no less interesting and amusing, and almost all of them could have a play unto themselves. They are each of them busily occupied with their own little strifes and concerns and pettiness in the best soap opera manner, yet brought together through various intertwining plots –at the heart of which lies the obligatory love story; in this case the wooing of the clearly very attractive and desirable Miss Page by numerous parties, both worthy and unworthy. Much of the intrigue and plot of the play is somehow connected to this endeavour.

The ”merry wives” of the title are older characters, one being Miss Page’s mother, and a great deal of the play’s comedy concerns the tricks they play on Falstaff (who is unashamedly after their money) and their own jealous husbands. But everyone seems to be playing tricks on each other in this play, or trying to get ”one-up” on a rival, and so there is much petty domestic squabbling and intrigue –which makes this play seem somehow more modern that a number other Shakespeare comedies; the people we meet are not kings and queens or even princes, but middle-class folk going about the business of living their lives, and this is reflected in that virtually the whole play is written in prose rather than verse. Thus it seems instantly more down-to-earth and accessible than some of the more refined courtly dramas of Shakespeare. Here he seems to be playing in a lighter key, allowing himself a cheeky freedom and gaiety he will not really return to in any of the plays to come. Indeed, this is perhaps the lightest and frothiest of all Shakespeare’s plays (and I don’t mean that as a criticism in any way) Though there will be more comedies to come, they will always have a touch of darkness about them (even Much Ado About Nothing has some pretty dark moments) or, increasingly, introduce elements of melancholy. In The Merry Wives of Windsor, there is none of that –but there is farce, satire, sexual innuendo, slapstick, hanky panky, scathing wit, cunning plans, arguments of words, music and folklore shenanigans –AND, I believe, Shakespeare’s only instance of a character in drag! (Falstaff has to dress as the wonderfully named ”wise woman of Brainford” in order to escape detection by a suspicious jealous husband when visiting one of the ”merry wives”)

I thoroughly enjoyed revisiting The Merry Wives of Windsor and delighted in discovering new gems in its colourful kaleidoscope of comic treasures. Many of the puns and clever twists of language are easier to appreciate when reading rather than seeing a performance when one is naturally drawn along more by all the visual information of plot, character and action. But it is primarily a play to delight in and be carried along by rather than to dwell too much on, or seek deeper meaning in, other than an appreciation of what you are presented with –skillful construction, high comedy, memorable characters, and lots and lots of fun. And I’m sure Elizabeth I must have been delighted too!

Favourite Line:

Falstaff
I cannot cog, and say thou art this and that, like a many of these lisping, hawthorn-buds that come like women in men’s apparel, and smell like Bucklersburry in simple time; I cannot; but I love thee, none but thee; and thou deserv’st it.
(Act III, Sc.3)

Character I would most like to play: Falstaff (But Ford, Doctor Caius and Sir Hugh Evans are all delightfully appealing parts too.)

HENRY IV PART 1 –The One That Introduces Falstaff

Henry IV Part One holds a special place in my Shakespeare heart as it is not only one of my absolute favourite amongst his plays, but one which I have had the good fortune to see numerous marvellous productions of, including the terrific Royal Shakespeare Company version of the early 1990s, in which Robert Stephens as Falstaff gave the finest performance I have ever seen by anyone on any stage, anywhere. And without comparing myself in any way to that aforementioned great actor, I myself have played numerous scenes from this play over the years, as Falstaff, Prince Hal and Henry the Fourth himself, and thoroughly enjoyed every moment doing so. There have also been some brilliant televised versions, most recently as part of The Hollow Crown series, and I recommend this to anyone curious about the play.

Thus, revisiting the text is both a joyful experience and a slightly dangerous one. Joyful because of memories evoked from previous encounters with the play on stage or on screen; dangerous because such memories can easily influence the impartiality of one’s reading. A colourful character like Falstaff may be seen in numerous ways, but as one reads his lines it is so very, very tempting to conjour up performances of the past. I should state, right away, that I am a huge Falstaff fan, and consider him the finest comic character ever created, so this entry will probably be more slanted to him than to any of the play’s other characters, but that is not to say they are any less interesting in their own right. Falstaff, after all, is essentially nothing more than a sidekick, the amusing supporting role, who (as is so often the case) creates such a mark that his character towers above all others in people’s minds, and leaves us wanting more, much more –fortunately, Shakespeare quickly ”got” this, and the character will appear in two more plays, including the direct sequel to this one. Here he represents one extreme –we are drawn to him much as Prince Hal is, and though we may be frequently appalled by his behaviour, we are fascinated by his audacity and sheer mastery of life and living to the full.

However, the play is titled Henry the Fourth (in nature and character the king is Falstaff’s direct opposite), and the serious action of the play concerns Henry's uneasy reign and his attempts to quell rebellion from disgruntled former allies who have now turned against him. There is a tenseness about Henry that prevails throughout, and he is both burdened with feelings of guilt about his own accession to the throne (by overthrowing Richard II), and exasperated by the seeming inadequacy of his heir, the young Prince Hal, whose happy-go-lucky, carefree lifestyle of drinking and partying with miscreants like Falstaff, is anything but what the King expects or needs from his successor. The king regards his son as a failure, a loser, and admires far more in this respect the other Henry of the play –Hotspur, the son of his main enemy who seems to embody all the traits and character that the king’s own son lacks. And really, the central conflict of the play is this personal one between father and son, rather than the grander conflict of warring factions. Thus, the play is essentially very personal and immediate, and gripping too because we are right in there seeing the king trying to hold things together in both his kingdom and his family. The ironic conceit, of course is that everyone encountering the play knows (or should know) that Prince Hal will come up to scratch and later become the most illustrious and heroic of all English Kings, Henry V, and Shakespeare drops a few hints about this here and there, and part of the brilliance of Henry IV Part One is the way Hal is suspended between the influence of Falstaff and his crowd on one side and the King and court and his duty on the other. Though both are important to him he cannot play to both masters, and it is through learning from both and choosing between them that we see him becoming the great king to be.

Aside from all this Henry IV Part One is a glorious patchwork of England at this time. The many memorable scenes in the tavern seem ageless –though nominally set in the early1400s they would be instantly recognizable to Elizabethan audiences who first saw the play, and are just as much so today –every pub has its braggarts, its gullible hangers-on, its storytellers and its pranksters. And there are plenty of memorable set-pieces, both in this tavern setting and elsewhere throughout the play. My personal favourite is Falstaff’s boasting of how he fought off an attack by two... four... seven... nine... ruffians, his lies and exaggerations growing from line to line. And anyone looking for colourful insults to add to their repertoire need look no further than the marvellously salty exchanges of name-calling between Prince Hal and Falstaff. Shakespeare must surely have enjoyed creating them as much as we delight in hearing them! (see the exchange under Favourite line(s) below for an example)

Finally, I must mention briefly two of the female characters that inhabit this otherwise very male play. Lady Percy (the wife of Hotspur) is a relatively small but memorable part, with a great speech and scene with her husband in Act II, and one almost wishes she featured more in the play. And Mistress Quickly, hostess of the Boar’s Head, makes the first of her several appearances in Shakespeare’s works. She, like the other ”regulars” of the tavern can very easily be overplayed or presented as mere bawdy caricatures, but I think there is a lot more to her than this, and intelligent productions cotton on to that without negating her comic role. She is a bit like a mother hen to all these miscreants, someone they so often take for granted, but without whom they (and the play itself) would be all the poorer.

Favourite Line(s):

Prince Hal (of Falstaff)
..this sanguine coward, this bed-presser, this horse-back-breaker, this huge hill of flesh–
Falstaff (to Prince Hal)
’Sblood, you starveling, you eel-skin, you dried neat’s-tongue, you bull’s pizzle, you stock-fish – O for breath to utter what is like thee! – you tailor’s yard, you sheath, you bow-case, you vile standing tuck!
(Act II, Sc.4)

Character I would most like to play: Falstaff (again) or Hotspur

THE MERCHANT OF VENICE –The One With the Pound of Flesh!

The Comical History of the Merchant of Venice, or Otherwise Called the Jew of Venice (as it is titled in the First Folio) is undoubtedly one of Shakespeare’s most famous plays (and among of my own personal favourites), but both it and the character of Shylock have a certain notoriety because of the unavoidable question of anti-semitism. Shylock is not a particularly big part (he’s only in a few scenes), but it’s a great part, such that it dominates the play in much the way Falstaff will in Henry IV soon after. He is undoubtedly the villain of the piece, but I don’t find the presentation of him to be narrower or unfairer than that of any other of Shakespeare’s creations. Certainly the play deals with the issue of anti-semitism, but it is seen primarily in the way Shylock is treated by many of the other characters rather than his own character –I think Shylock is a fascinating character, and to call him a caricature or stereotype is to negate the subtext of so much of his words and actions. Essentially, I think he is a very sad person, but that does not mean we have to be sympathetic to him or condone his actions.

The play is ostensibly described as a comedy, but this is an ill-fitting coat; much of the action of the play is far from comic, and the play falls more into a category best described as ”a mixed bag” –part tragedy, part comedy, part romance, but, unlike many other such unclassifiable plays, one that somehow almost always seems to work on stage. I think this is primarily because there is at its heart a really good story, or rather several stories, linked through good characters and terrific set pieces, like the choosing of the caskets and Act IV’s famous court scene. This is the first time I have actually read the whole play. Previously, I have only read extracts or worked on speeches from it, but I knew the play well nonetheless, having seen several wonderful productions, both on stage and screen. Each of these had their outstanding moments, but the best overall stage production I’ve seen was that produced at Birmingham Rep in 1997, directed by Bill Alexander. Trevor Nunn’s tired production at the Royal National Theatre in 2000 was by far the worst, but even in that the power of the story shone through. I also recall a very odd Danish production directed by Staffan Holm at Copenhagen’s Royal Theatre back in 1993 which concluded by having an enormous golden ball roll across the stage, Indiana Jones-style, while the song Mad About the Boy blared over the loudspeakers (I really must do a blog entry on bizarre and whacky innovations in Shakespeare productions!)

Favourite Line:

Lorenzo:
The man that hath no music in himself,
Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds,
Is fit for treason, stratagems and spoils.
(Act 5, Sc.1)

Character I would most like to play: Shylock (but Portia would be fun too)

KING JOHN –The One First to be Filmed!

King John (aka The Life and Death of King John) is an odd play in the Shakespeare canon. For one thing it is a history play that stands apart from all the others, not fitting neatly into the chronological sequence of the other English histories. King John’s reign was from 1199 to 1216, thus the play takes place long before the great cycle of plays starting with Richard II. Secondly, its tone is very different to many of the other histories –perhaps because Shakespeare (it is believed) based his play on the framework of an earlier anonymous play: The Troublesome Reign of John, King of England, and –with some notable exceptions– pretty much followed that play’s scene-by-scene construction; much more so than with other plays he ”adapted”. Some people believe that Shakespeare himself wrote the earlier play too and that King John as published in the First Folio is actually Shakespeare’s later, modified, version.

It is certainly very rarely performed these days, though as of May 2016 there happens to be a production directed by Trevor Nunn running in London. I have not had the opportunity to see this, or indeed ever seen a production of it. Yet in Victorian times it was one of Shakespeare’s most popular and frequently performed plays –perhaps because of the Victorians' fondness for declamatory acting (which this play lends itself to extremely well.) Its popularity at that time is probably one of the reasons it was the first Shakespeare play ever to be filmed –albeit as a short, silent adaptation– way back in 1899. I believe this may be viewed on YouTube!

In addition to most people probably never having seen the play performed, I would boldly state that very few will have read it, or know much about it, despite King John in so many ways being key to British history. Everyone knows something about him though –if only through his connection with the signing of Magna Carta (which is, perhaps surprisingly, not part of the play), or his reputation as a sneaky, slimy go-getter through his role in the story of his brother Richard the Lionheart and the Robin Hood legend. (For some reason I still always see John in my mind’s eye as the conniving, crowned big cat in the Disney cartoon!)

King John in Shakespeare’s play comes across as a hard but much more rounded character than portrayed elsewhere, but it is difficult to really ”get hold” of him as a man –certainly compared to the other great Shakespeare kings of British history who are much more open to us in revealing their inner workings. Much of the play’s language is heavier too, which makes our enjoyment of it more of a challenge than usual. Like Richard II, it is written in verse, but is frequently more obscure and less stylised than that play. The New Penguin version edited by R.L. Smallwood has the best notes and most useful commentary of the editions I have come across.

Interestingly for the histories, Shakespeare puts a character at the centre of the story who never actually existed historically: Philip (Faulconbridge) –revealed in the play as Richard the Lionheart’s bastard son. Shakespeare makes a lot of this character and gives him some wonderful lines and scenes. Just about all the other characters are historically accurate (in that they actually lived, at least), but as always, there is much compressing of time and events, and a certain amount of dramatic licence in the way scenes unfold. A great deal of the play consists of bickering –it’s a real family power struggle at heart, and though frequently vicious there is also a certain amount of humour in the constant taunting and accusing of the various parties. It lends itself somewhat to satire in this respect, but the latter part of the play has some extremely dark moments, and for me the play really comes alive in the last two acts.

Leaving the biggest impression (on me, at least) is the story of Arthur, John’s young nephew who, being the son of Prince Geoffrey (John’s older brother), is the rightful heir to the crown. He is ultimately gotten out of the way and the scene in which he pleads with Hubert of Angiers, his would-be executioner, in Act IV is one of the most poignant in all Shakespeare (it’s also a wonderful piece to do as an extract or as an exercise for two actors). In fact, the whole play is filled with potentially exciting confrontations for actors to get their teeth into, which (if they are good) may make up for the fact that the arc of the drama itself doesn’t match the greatness of style and execution of Shakepeare’s more exalted and popular history plays.

Favourite Line:

Philip the Bastard:
Mad world! Mad kings! Mad composition!
(Act 2, Sc.1)

Character I would most like to play: Hubert of Angiers

SHAKES-SCREEN: A Midsummer Night’s Dream (1999)

I remember being pleasantly enchanted by this rather winsome film version of Shakespeare’s romantic comedy/fantasy when it first appeared, and it certainly looked beautiful on the big screen with its gorgeous, warm cinematography, composition and production design. It created a pleasant, warm feeling in the audience, delivering a comforting experience, and drawing a few chuckles here and there; smiles rather than belly laughs. For here the comedy is fairly genteel, and often also quite melancholic –there is always another dimension to each moment of laughter -a story beyond, especially with the tradesmen who put their heart into performing, despite their lack of any real talent. Their preparations for and ultimate performance of ”Pyramus and Thisbe” is where much of the comedy of the play lies, but in this film the traditional comic moments are toned down a great deal. I admire the restrained performances of both individuals and the amateur group as an ensemble, because it is so easy to go over the top with their part in the story. Here we smile affectionately rather than laugh mockingly, and our smiles are warm and sympathetic, as they sometimes are when someone in the family performs at a wedding or similar despite a lack of talent. Kevin Kline as Bottom naturally takes much of the limelight, and gives his character a whole deeper life than is normally seen, as does the very underrated Roger Rees as Peter Quince –he gives an immensely dignified and rather beautiful performance here, full of subtle details that I only really appreciated upon viewing the film again.

I found many of the magical scenes with the fairies to be quite mesmerizing, and the careful use of special effects was just right in creating moments of fantasy and wonder without overwhelming the picture. Much of the beauty of the play lies in the lines spoken by Oberon and Titania and Puck, and Rupert Everett, Michelle Pfeiffer and Stanley Tucci give great respect to the language and poetry of Shakespeare, without falling to the traps of prettifying it or making it bombastic –it’s poetry, yet living dramatical interaction too. By and large, I think most of the cast do quite well with the text, making it alive and personal, and I certainly am not one of those who despair at American voices uttering Shakespeare; quite the contrary. Here, there is a nice mix of American and British voices, and it is to the film’s credit.

If I were pushed to criticize the film it would be for its lack of ”edge” or danger –passion, if you like. This applies both to the two pairs of young lovers, and the fairy characters and their escapades. Everything is a little too mellow and tame, so that we are lulled more than provoked. A little more spice or audacity would have perked things up considerably, and the story certainly gives room for and even suggests this.
But the director has his own vision of the play and is at least consequent in his presentation of that, and it’s perfectly acceptable. The interesting thing is that the play may be tackled in many different ways, and the ”world” that is presented here in all its lush, green, dream-like beauty is no less valid than other more provocative versions of Shakespeare’s magical comedy.

A Midsummer Night’s Dream (1999)
Director: Michael Hoffman
With: Rupert Everett, Michelle Pfeiffer, Stanley Tucci, Kevin Kline, Christian Bale, Anna Friel, Calista Flockhart, Roger Rees, David Strathairn

RICHARD II –The One With the Hollow Crown Speech

Though chronologically compatible with the following plays about Henry IV, Henry V, Henry VI and Richard III, Richard II stands apart from all the other historical plays because of its heightened style –something that seems to reflect the state or nature of the king himself; or, at least how he sees it: his kingship is prouder and more regal and divine than those that follow him, and initially on much stronger footing. That he is not necessarily a good king does not come into it –he is king by divine right, and the play is both a presentation of this concept as understood by Richard, and the story of his undoing. We do not see or even learn of all Richard’s reign, just the final phase, where the conflict centres around the Henry Bolingbroke’s struggle to recover his land and title after being banished, and ultimately his taking of the crown from Richard and the latter’s downfall. Essentially it is a play about these two people, whose personalities and world concepts are so very different. So, unlike the earlier sprawling tales of battle after battle and allegiances and intrigues that form the Henry VI plays, this is a much more personal piece of work, almost chamber-like in its intensity –and yet it nonetheless does take in a broader story and certain key historical moments.

It’s a fabulously well-written piece of work too. Though not my personal favourite of the history plays, I must concur that stylistically it is the finest Shakespeare wrote. I like bits of it immensely. The verse is terrific in that much of the time you are not really conscious of it being verse at all –it is seldom decorous for the sake of it, yet each line is crafted with great skill and deftness, allowing each character to come alive and shine through language that somehow seems more modern than a lot of other Shakespeare –modern in the sense that it is immediately accessible and understandable. Notes and commentary may help elucidate many minor points, but I found most of the play just leapt off the paper and came alive in my mouth as I read it –aloud of course (for this is the only way to read Shakespeare!)

Admittedly, I know the play quite well and I have performed large chunks of this it in various contexts; Richard’s personal tale in particular, which I integrated (much truncated, alas) into my one-man performance about Shakespeare’s kings. But a lot of it will be familiar even to people approaching it for the first time: much of the text is part of public consciousness, having been borrowed and used in countless political speeches and slogans, titles of books etc. It is an immensely quotable play –even for Shakespeare!

Richard is an intriguing character, and often quite a difficult one to phathom out. He starts off very arrogant and grand, and is gradually reduced to baseness, but he does goes on and on and on about his plight without ever once reflecting why he has ended up this way, and it is perhaps this quality that makes me somewhat impatient with him, Basically, he is that tiresome creature the spoilt brat whose sense of entitlement knows no bounds, nor really knows of any other way to be. We want to feel sympathy with him –occasionally perhaps we do– but he is also placed firmly at a distance from us, even in his private moments; he is never just a man, he always must be king; and here lies the tragic dimension to his character. Bolingbroke, by contrast, is much more pragmatic and straightforward; a bloke we may sympathize with for fighting for his rights, but not someone we necessarily like all that much. Whereas Richard knows or believes that the crown is something that is his by divine right, Henry has to take on the uncertain, heavy burden of kingship. And with the extra burden of guilt in having deposed his predecessor. His story will, of course, continue through the two parts of Henry IV, so for him this play is really ”Act I”, whereas for Richard the whole of Richard II is really "Act V" of his life and reign.

Apart from changing the identity of Richard’s killer, I have been very impressed with the version of the play presented in the ongoing television production The Hollow Crown –which presents and respects the language so gloriously well that even without a picture it would be more than worthwhile to experience. Some years ago there was also a television movie version that famously starred Fiona Shaw as King Richard, adding an exciting new dimension to that character. I remember that film made a great impression on me at the time. There is also an impressive BBC version with Derek Jacobi playing Richard. On stage, David Tennant probably has given the most memorable performance of the role in recent years, though about 20 years ago the pairing of Alex Jennings as Richard and Anton Lesser as Bolingbroke in a Royal Shakespeare Company’s production stands out for me as the best overall production of the play I have seen. However, I was sadly not around to see John Gielgud in the title role. Like Richard, one can’t have everything.


Favourite Line:

King Richard:
Let’s talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs;
Make dust our paper, and with rainy eyes
Write sorrow on the bosom of the earth.
(Act 3, Sc.2)

Character I would most like to play: Bolingbroke

ROMEO AND JULIET –The One With the Balcony Scene!

Romeo and Juliet is, alongside Hamlet, probably the most well-known of all Shakespeare’s plays, and for many the most rewarding and touching and eternal of the lot. Even people who supposedly know nothing about Shakespeare know this one, or bits of it, and it has been performed and adapted and re-invented in so many ways that one would think the world would somehow tire of it. But it never does. It seems to be everlasting, and eternally and profoundly popular. Perhaps not so surprising, really –it is, after all, the greatest love story of them all.

Personally though I never cared much for the play before; I found it soppy and soggy and over-elaborately decorated when I first read it (as a callow youth, too worldly for my own good!), and several equally soppy, soggy productions and versions I saw seemed to confirm this grand view of mine. It was not the Shakespeare I was attracted to when I first started to discover him, and I felt little sense of identity with anyone in the play –indeed, most of the characters I found immensely annoying. It failed to grasp me or excite me, and knowing very little about life or love or anything really at the time, I was blandly indifferent to its romance and tragedy.

And now –older and wiser– I return to it and find everything is different. It is a play that blows me away with its urgency, its poetry, its beautiful construction, its vividness and life force, and I think all in all it is one of the most sublime and riveting of all Shakespeare’s creations. I was actually quite startled by just how much I now enjoyed it and reveled in it compared with my first encounter with the text. It is a perfect companion to A Midsummer Night’s Dream (which precedes it in the chronology I am following) and seems to spring from the same well of lightness and ease of writing as that play. Here, of course, the theme is ultimately more tragic, but there is a similar urgency and beauty of writing that seems to burst from the page as you read it. And the play needs to be read (or performed) with a similar kind of urgency, even though you frequently want to stop and examine a passage or a line more closely. I think that was how I read it before and why it didn’t work for me then: I was seeing all the technique of the writing but taking in nothing of the prosody of the text as a whole. It really has to be read aloud.

As for the story, I was struck by just how much scheming there is going on. Nothing is done straightforwardly. Everyone is ”arranging” or meddling in some way, even when they are trying to help, and this ultimately brings on the tragic conclusion to the tale. The wholesome, pure romance at the play’s heart is confronted with one barrier or obstruction after the other; the young couple of the title are pushed, manipulated and drawn from each other by the people around them, and yet their love for each other is so heartbreakingly earnest and determined and yet fragile. It is a play of youth, and understandably often resonates immensely with young people experiencing similar plights, agonies and frustrations to those expressed by the characters in the play. And Shakespeare seems very much on the side of the young characters here; he is fair to the adults, but the play does not really belong to them and nor do our sympathies. The nurse is, of course, comical and harmless and rather loveable, but Friar Laurence comes across as fascinatingly dubious, and there is a whole story in him that remains untold. As there also is in Mercutio –who has some of the play’s most memorable moments and stands out as one of the strongest ”friend” characters in all of Shakespeare.

I also felt much more accomodating to Romeo’s development as a character on reading the play anew. Previously, I had found him something of a shallow and fickle character in that he so quickly forgets his previous ”love” upon seeing Juliet for the first time. Now, I see that as an acknowledgment of him realizing that what may have seemed like love before was in fact merely infatuation, and that the meeting with Juliet is on a completely different level. Juliet, though initially ”greener” emerges as the more mature of the two, but there is such a touching sweetness to the urgency and yearning of their budding relationship that one really does feel that these two were meant for each other, and would have stayed with each other for always, had not they ended up such tragic victims of events. Yet because of their tragedy, harmony and peace is restored –a sharp lesson is learned by all; and rightly so.

There have been countless fine productions and film or television versions of the play, but those that have seemed always to work best (for me) are those which embrace the essential youthfulness of the story. The theme, being so universal, is immensely adaptable to many different settings, times and environments, but versions that cast against the youthfulness at the play's heart, are far more difficult to accept, no matter how talented the performers may be.


Favourite Line:

Romeo:
”Love goes toward love as schoolboys from their books,
But love from love, toward school with heavy looks.”
(Act 2, Sc.1)

Character I would most like to play: Friar Laurence

A MIDSUMMER NIGHT’S DREAM –The One With All Those Fairies!

Well, now we come to the play that is many people’s favourite; the one that instantly puts a smile on their face when it is mentioned, that open their eyes to enchantment, and wonder, and delighted amusement. Like no other Shakespeare play it brings out the child in all of us, and it’s no surprise that it’s particularly popular with children and young people; for many of them it is their first encounter with Shakespeare, either as a text or in performance, and it’s one of the most frequently produced of all Shakespeare’s plays and somehow (magically perhaps?) almost always seems to work. You can do almost anything with it and still pull it off, as countless productions have shown. I’ve seen it played by children, by teenagers, by students, by amateur groups and by seasoned professionals; and done as high comedy, lyrical and mysterious musical pageant, puppet show and circus-like physical theatre. I’ve seen it done on a bare stage, and on incredibly elaborate sets. I’ve even seen it set on a rubbish tip! And all of these wildly diverse productions have worked, and given their audience joy and laughter and wonder and delight. Quite a feat!

When I went back to revisit the text itself I had memories of all these productions whizzing about in my head, and it was often difficult to try and examine the play objectively, as if reading it for the first time. Yet I was instantly struck by just how gloriously the words and lines flow from the page, especially after coming straight from Love’s Labour’s Lost which took so much more effort to fully understand and appreciate. With A Midsummer Night’s Dream Shakespeare really steps up a gear, and this seems to me to be a turning point in his output: the moment when his already great talent becomes truly sublime. Everything he has learned and experimented with comes together here in a perfect play: poetry, comedy, romance, construction, plot, clarity and a true grasp of theatre in all its possibilities and devices. It’s a light play –one could say it floats; yet it is never trivial. Its characters may not at first seem deep, but they are as living and memorable as any in Shakespeare. We recognize and can smile at some of them (anyone who has ever been involved in any form of theatre will have known numerous Nick Bottoms and Peter Quinces and Francis Flutes), whilst others are far from anything in our experience, except perhaps in our dreams.

Yes, there’s something for everyone here: at least three separate stories and a multitude of stories within each story, yet all held and coming together beautifully, like a delicate silk web. And I adore the poetry and imagery of the play as much as I adore the comedy and pathos of the amateur players, whose keenness makes up for their lack of talent, and who are treated much more gently in this play by their audience than the players at the end of the previous play, Love’s Labour’s Lost.

If you are new to this play then do try to see a production of it before picking up the text; let yourself be swept away by its poetry and music and delightful charm before delving into the brilliant and elegant craftsmanship of the piece more closely.


Favourite Line:

Theseus:
”His speech was like a tangled chain –nothing impaired, but all disordered.”
(Act 5, Sc.1)

And almost all of Puck’s lines

Character I would most like to play: Puck

Happy Birthday!

I couldn't let today pass without posting something, but with so much "Shakespeare activity" going on all over the place there has hardly been time. It's Shakespeare heaven out there! So excuse my very theatrical pose in front of his statue in Central Park, taken a few years ago.

Though naturally most of the attention has been connected with the fact that its 400 years today since William died, I have chosen rather to celebrate that it's 452 years today since he was born; because, if truth be told, Shakespeare never really died; he's still with us, and in so many ways, and he still reaches out to us and is relevant and touching and entertaining and endlessly fascinating. It's so moving to see the many, many tributes to him coming from all over the world, and from people of all ages, and I hope today may bring even more people to his work. So tonight's toast will be one of gratitude and continued admiration and deep respect: Happy Birthday, Mr. Shakespeare! Thy eternal summer shall not fade.

SHAKES-SCREEN: Love’s Labor’s Lost (2000)

Dancing With Shakespeare!

"Dancing With Shakespeare" is the direct translation of the title this film was given in Norway, and it is quite an apt description not only of the film’s content, but the fundamental, gnawing weakness of the film: a play that above all plays with language seems ill at ease in a jacket marked ”dancing”. When you dance with Shakespeare you don’t want to get out of step, and Love’s Labour’s Lost doesn’t quite come together. And it’s very sad because it’s a film you so much want to work, because its heart is in the right place, and its intentions are good and creative and exciting and bold. Yes, it’s enjoyable and frothy, silly and sincere in equal measures, beautifully shot with a camera that plays a part in the best Hollywood-golden-age manner, and sometimes it’s very funny and works beautifully. But frequently the novelty of turning one of Shakespeare’s most language-reliant comedies into a nostalgic romantic musical simply works against itself, and the result is then flat rather than uplifting. And this is not because people don’t try –everyone involved in the film really gives it a good go, and clearly wants to try to make it come off. It very nearly does, but not quite –there is an unevenness about it that keeps us from getting fully engrossed in what we see, and this is the sort of film that needs that to work.

I was lucky enough to see this film originally at a special screening introduced by Kenneth Branagh and Alicia Silverstone, which boosted the preview audience into a higher gear of excitement and expectation than would be usual, so the experience was a little like the prospect of drinking lots of champagne –delightful, but somehow never as good as the idea of it!
Upon re-watching the film recently, I think the film in fact rather more resembles one of those very fancy, colourful cocktails you order when on holiday, with tiny umbrellas and exotic fruit and flowers sticking out and looking enormously tempting on the menu and when brought to you, but always somewhat impractical to drink and with ingredients that don’t quite mix together satisfyingly enough. With Love’s Labour’s Lost the conceit of transforming Shakespeare’s rich ideas into classic Hollywood musical numbers to bring across certain moods and emotional moments is a fun recipe, but it seems to me to clash too often with the actual text the film is based on. Now, admittedly much of Shakespeare’s play is very obscure and difficult to understand compared to other plays he wrote, and severe editing was going to be inevitable; but putting in musical number after musical number as a replacement seems more a way of padding the film to arrive at a decent length rather than really moving the story along. In fact, many of the musical numbers –skillfully and cheekily staged though some of them are– just get in the way of things, and frequently I found myself wishing that Branagh had been even more faithful to Shakespeare and instead kept in more of the actual play itself. Thus I was pleasantly surprised to find a number of deleted scenes on the DVD of the film that sadly never made it to the final cut. I think these should have been kept in because they help make more sense of the story.

The diversity of performers that comprise the cast is quite interesting and there are some magnificent individual performances, though again the range of different styles doesn’t always gel on screen. To a certain extent this was also true of Branagh’s Much Ado About Nothing and Hamlet. Everyone is doing their own little film, and sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t. Timothy Spall’s Don Armado is perhaps one of the most outrageous performances ever seen on screen, but it is totally in keeping with the character as written. And both he and Nathan Lane (as Costard the clown) bring an essential element of sadness to their otherwise comic roles that is very moving. But the double quartet of lovers that form the central romantic story of the film is a very mixed bag indeed. Branagh understandably gives the plum role of Berowne to himself and sells his Shakespeare with that admirable deftness that is uniquely his, but he is really too old for the part and this works against him here. I also feel at times he should have directed himself more astutely or had better assistance at doing so, for it is largely the scenes in which he does not appear that work best –simply because at such times he, as director, is able to concentrate fully on the other performances. The film also seems unable to break itself totally free from its stageiness to become the truly filmic musical it aspires to be.

So, I am quite ambivalent about this film. I DO like and enjoy it, and applaud Branagh for tackling a lesser-known Shakespeare comedy, and with such gusto, but I SO wish I were able to like it more and be fully satisfied by it –and by the greater film that is in its heart..

Love’s Labour’s Lost (2000)
Director: Kenneth Branagh
With: Kenneth Branagh, Timothy Spall, Alicia Silverstone, Nathan Lane, Matthew Lillard, Geraldine McEwan, Richard Briers, Alessandro Nivola. Adrian Lester

LOVE’S LABOUR’S LOST –The One With Honorificabilitudinitatibus

And if you are wondering just what on earth ”honorificabilitudinit-atibus” is, it just happens to be longest word found in Shakespeare! A latin construction, it means ”the state of being able to accept honours”, and is uttered more or less as a joke by the character Costard the clown as an ironic counter to some of the long, long sentences of what seems like gobbledegook spoken by the pedantic schoolmaster Holofernes. The word also, apparently, is an anagram of Hi ludi, F. Baconis nati, tuiti orbi –which translates into English as ”These plays, F. Bacon’s offspring, are preserved for the world” –and thus often presented as evidence that Francis Bacon was the true writer of this and all the other plays attributed to Shakespeare. Well, let’s not get into THAT debate right now!

However, the use of honorificabilitudinitatibus does seem to me to point to the salient feature of Love’s Labour’s Lost –one that both demonstrates its uniqueness AND its weakness: its cleverness. For it is a very clever play; too clever for its own good. And by clever I don’t mean in terms of plot, because that is extremely simple, but in its use of language. It is full of playful, witty and tricky twists and turns of language, and so much so that this ultimately gets in the way of a many people’s enjoyment of the play’s genuine sentiments. It is thus an acquired taste, not a play that is digested without close attention, and it is easily dismissed as too obscure for most modern audiences unless heavily edited or adapted. It’s certainly worlds apart from the preceding play The Comedy of Errors and obviously written for a completely different audience, for much of its humour is sophisticated and elaborate, whereas the previous play relied much more on in-your-face situational and farcial comedy for its laughs.

And yet Love’s Labour’s Lost does contains some very funny scenes, and some terrific humoristic characters –including one of Shakespeare’s most interesting creations Don Adriano de Armado –the fantastical Spaniard who seems at first so outrageously over-the-top that laughing at him seems too little, but who then emerges as a character who appeals to our sympathy through his incredibly touching earnestness. A character both comic and melancholic; brash, yet tender, and totally without the cynicism that marks some of Shakespeare’s other comic characters.

Though I have come to admire and appreciate the deftness involved in its writing, I cannot say that this play is among my favourite of Shakspeare’s comedies, and reading it has taken me longer than all the others I have read up until now –simply because the language is so elaborate, and checking meanings at every other word takes away the instant enjoyment of other, more ”flowing”, works. It is a play that demands a lot of the reader/audience on a language level, especially in the comic exchanges, but let’s not forget, this is above all a romantic comedy, and it is in its romantic passages that we, today, probably find most delight. For there are some truly wonderful and beautiful reflections on romance and love and wooing to be found here, and these passages are far more accessible to us than much of the dated comic material. With A Midsummer Night’s Dream and Romeo and Juliet following this play in the chronology, Shakespeare’s mind is now clearly filled with a need and desire to examine ideas about love and romance, that find expression in such wonderfully different forms. A lost play known only by its title, Love’s Labour’s Won, may have been a continuation of this play, or a further examination of the ways of love, but that's another of those vexing Shakespeare mysteries that we shall probably never know the answer to.

I do recommend anyone wishing to tackle Love’s Labour’s Lost for the first time to read Harley Granville-Barker’s brilliant introduction to the play. His is a practical and sensible viewpoint, valuable to both reader and theatre-goer, and provides a refreshingly readable explanation of much that is obscure in the text. Some of the more academic editions have a field day with this play, with their footnotes covering more page area than the text itself, and though perhaps of interest to dedicated students, these footnotes seem often as bloated as the long-winded utterences of Holofernes himself! In conclusion: not to everybody’s taste, but fascinating nonetheless.

Favourite Line:

Berowne:
And when Love speaks, the voice of all the gods
Make heaven drowsy with the harmony.
(Act IV, Sc.3)

Character I would most like to play: Don Armado

THE COMEDY OF ERRORS –The One With the Kitchen Wench!

Actually, that’s only partly true, because though the kitchen wench figures in the play, and is drawn as vivid and memorable character as any in Shakespeare’s comedies, she doesn’t actually appear at all! Like the equally memorable (canine), Crab, in The Two Gentlemen of Verona, she is another of those exclusive characters who is merely referred to by others –in this case by the hapless Dromio of Syracuse. His description of the determined, lusty and very large maid is one of the funniest passages in all of Shakespeare, comparing her to a globe and listing the various countries her body parts form. It was actually this scene that first brought me to The Comedy of Errors, for I performed it fairly regularly 25 years ago as part of numerous ”Shakespeare Evenings” presented by my old theatre group, The Oslo Players, and it invariably provoked much delight. I then returned to the play when studying for my literature degree, as one of my chosen exam papers was on Roman Comedy –and in particular Menaechmi by Plautus –the play on which The Comedy of Errors is based. In that play there is one set of twins, with two servants; but Shakespeare develops the comedy to new levels of confusion by making the two servants twins as well! The play is thus perhaps not surprisingly the most farcial of all Shakespeare’s plays. And as it is also the shortest one in the canon and all takes place in the same location and has few props and (unusually for Shakespeare) no music, it is a play very suited to small-scale venues, tours or ”special events”. Indeed, it seems to have been performed originally for a group of law students towards the end of an evening’s programme of diverse entertainment, and no doubt went down very well. The only version I have seen was a musical adaptation developed by the RSC in the 1970s and then ”franchised out” to other producers (the one I saw was a Norwegian production). This was a joyful romp that kept pretty much everything in the play and added songs and dance to flesh out the evening. Rodgers & Hart’s musical The Boys From Syracuse was also inspired by this play.

Though farcial and light, and often therefore dismissed as a mere trifle, there is also seriousness in the play in the back story that caused the twins to be separated in the first place. At times while reading it I felt a similarity to that later, more melancholy comedy, Twelfth Night, which also deals with twins and mistaken identity. And the subject matter was not unfamiliar to Shakespeare as he himself was a father to twins (albeit not identical ones). This surely must have informed him or at least been partly on his mind when dealing with this subject so humorously. And he certainly grasped the potential for confusion and mayhem in his deft handling of the unfolding action –which has to be very precisely staged and directed for everything to work; farce is quite scientific in this way, and Shakespeare certainly knows his stuff, and what works theatrically.

I personally think this play comes earlier in the chronology than is generally listed, and believe it was possibly one of the first Shakespeare wrote. This is more something I felt instinctively upon re-reading it than having any real proof. Certainly it is an early work, both in style, language and maturity of character. But it is skillfully written too, and as the text is now surely must be the result of much trial and error on stage of what works and what doesn’t. It is trim and to the point and there is little here that can be easily cut without ruining the meticulous mechanism of the plot. It is a satisfying, fun read, but to be really enjoyable cries out to be up on stage –far more than some of Shakespeare’s other comedies which work equally well in the armchair!

Favourite Line:

Dromio of Syracuse:
As from a bear a man would run for life
So fly I from her that would be my wife.
(Act III, Sc.2)

Character I would most like to play: Dromio (both of Ephesus and Syracuse)

SHAKES-SCREEN: Richard III (1995)

I rate this as one of my favourite Shakespeare films!

Placing one of Shakespeare’s history plays in another specific historical period is always a bit of a risky thing. Such a ploy more frequently works better on stage than on screen –our suspension of belief being somewhat more liberal in a theatre than in front of a screen. Often the transfer in time is to a “generic” future historical setting, with a bit of this period and a bit of that. Sometimes this works, sometimes it doesn’t. The reason I think placing this version of Richard III in the 1930s works so well is the faithfulness to that conceit, which is carried through impeccably in every detail, though never in a forced or laboured way. It is a clever, often witty, adaptation of Shakespeare’s masterly examination of one man’s relentless pursuit of power –and has both elegance and a style of its own aside from the play it is based on, and a healthy respect of Shakespeare’s glorious language and characters.

Perhaps the language is what may deter some people from fully enjoying this, though I would argue that it merely demands paying a little more attention to what is being said than when watching a “normal” film. Contrary to what many may think, Shakespeare’s language is not difficult or obscure –quite the opposite– but you do need to listen to it! Here, of course, you are helped by having some of the finest actors around, with not only great command of that language, but the ability to present clearly defined yet complex characters, so that we are able to keep track of who is who in the web of family connections and intrigue. The film is much shorter than the play (Shakespeare’s longest), and does away with some characters and combines others into one figure. This polishes the narrative somewhat, but does not take anything vital away from the unfolding tale. I do, however, recommend going back to the original play if you enjoy this film, because it will give an even broader appreciation of the story. And what a story!

Centre-stage (or centre-screen, in this case) is Ian McKellen as Richard. It is surely his finest screen performance, and is certainly the one that really made me appreciate his work when I first saw the film upon its original release. Like Olivier before him, his Richard is a performance perfected through countless performances on stage in the role, and with devilish charm he milks each ounce of scheming, determination and wickedness from his scenes. Yet, unlike Olivier, he also shares with us a certain clumsiness and even pathos, which though it does not excuse in any way his actions does give us some understanding of why he has become the grotesque figure he is.

Of the other performances I particularly like Jim Broadbent’s take on the Duke of Buckingham –his beaming face has eyes of steel, and he seems to be silently scheming, listening, and judging in every scene in which he appears. Anette Bening also does a terrific job and makes more much of her part than is written. But all the actors do wonders in conveying their own particular “angsts” and concerns. Seeing the film again now, I only wish it was longer and we saw even more of some of them.

Finally I must applaud the designers of the production –both visual and aural– who have created a totally believable alternate English setting of the 1930s. It is both familiar and alien at the same time –which is what makes the film’s central idea so chilling: That such a thing could have happened in England at this time as it did in Germany and Italy and Spain. Shakespeare may have been writing about the 15th century, but the scheming of despots, hungry for power, goes on and on and on.

Richard III (1995)
Director: Richard Loncraine
With: Ian McKellen, Nigel Hawthorne, Anette Bening, Maggie Smith, Jim Broadbent, Robert Downey, Jr.

THE RAPE OF LUCRECE –STILL DISTURBING

I first read Shakespeare’s The Rape of Lucrece many years ago when I was a teenager, and passed over it pretty quickly because at that time I was more interested in the plays, but I returned to it a few years ago when I worked as language/text coach on The Norwegian Opera’s production of Benjamin Britten’s The Rape of Lucretia. The libretto for that was written by Ronald Duncan, based on a French play by André Obey. The story though is essentially the same in all these versions, and stems from the classical tale as told by Ovid in Fasti and Livy in his History of Rome. The opera fleshed out the narrative somewhat, introducing characters who are only mentioned in Shakespeare’s version, and staged much more of the pretext to the unfortunate act of transgression. Shakespeare does away with most of this background in a prose ”Argument” printed before the start of the poem, thus diving straight into the central action of the piece: The rape of Lucrece.

Thus, the poem concerns almost entirely the two main characters –the unfortunate Lucrece, and her husband’s supposed friend Sextus Tarquinius who forces himself upon her. The first part of the long poem belongs to him, the second to Lucrece. It’s at times a hard, disturbing read, and as a poem it is both a serious counter-poem to the frothier, mythological Venus and Adonis that precedes it, and a harbinger of some of the tragedies to come. Like Venus and Adonis it is essentially a drama, with lots of action and talking and atmosphere, but its power lies in Shakespeare’s brilliant, succinct language. It’s more direct, less playful than in the former poem, yet brimming with astounding pictures and a true command of the sounds of particular words. It is here I really start to sense the skillful way Shakespeare uses vowel sounds to convey various emotions –which he puts to use so brilliantly in many of the plays that follow. And I feel Shakespeare has worked hard on this piece –By that I don’t mean that it seems laboured, but more considered and weighty than the delightful musicality of Venus and Adonis. Like all of Shakespeare it is best served when read aloud, and each 7-line verse is a miniature drama of its own. (Venus and Adonis had verses of 6 lines, so the rhythm here is quite different, though both poems, like the sonnets, pack their punch into the final couplet of each verse.
When working on the opera there was relatively little I could use from Shakespeare to illuminate the Ronald Duncan text or Britten’s music, but it was intriguing to see how such different creative forces tackled essentially the same story. Duncan’s text clarified much that was difficult or obscure in Shakespeare (who is guilty of some digression here and there it must be said), and Britten’s haunting music captured what Shakespeare managed with mere music of words and poetry.

This work, like Venus and Adonis before it, was enormously popular in Shakespeare’s own time and saw many re-printings in his lifetime. Nowadays, hardly anyone bothers to read it (do they read long poems at all?), and admittedly it is not at all a ”feel-good” read. But it is gripping, disturbing, sad, tragic and moving. And you are encountering a master poet and dramatist in one.

Favourite Line:

Brand not my forehead with thy piercing light,
For day hath naught to do what’s done by night.

VENUS AND ADONIS –SIZZLINGLY HOT!

Most people today think of Shakespeare as a dramatist –the dramatist, and just about everyone knows something about his plays, even if they have never seen them. But relatively few people outside of us ”Shakspeareholics” know that at heart he was perhaps first and foremost a poet –and it was as a poet he really gained his reputation in his own time. Ok, perhaps (hopefully) you know he wrote sonnets –154 of them according to my collected edition– and that these are some of the finest, most beautiful love poems ever written, each 14 lines long. But he also wrote much longer poems – almost works of drama in themselves. The first of these is Venus and Adonis –and I’ll bet only a handful of you have ever read it. Yet, it was enormously popular in Shakespeare’s day, with at least ten reprints in his lifetime alone; in fact it was the most frequently printed of all Shakespeare’s works while he lived. Nowadays, you probably find it stuffed at the back of a ”Collected Works” where it is left unread by all but the most dedicated of readers –and admittedly, I too had never encountered it before, knowing it only by name, and assuming its obscurity meant that it was difficult and possibly not very interesting. How wrong I was!

For Venus and Adonis is a delight! And I want you all to go away and read it through, right now, aloud! It will take less than an afternoon, but it will fill you with the same experience as seeing a Shakespeare play, for this is drama –a drama poem– that is both simple and wide-ranging, comic and tragic, and oozing with lust, desire, eroticism and life! It has some of the most explicit sexual language in all of Shakespeare (which may partly explain why it has been pushed to the back of the collected editions ever since Victorian times), and some of the juiciest reflections on everything to do with ”love” that is found anywhere in literature. And its language is brilliant –this is Shakespeare discovering and cherishing his love of sounds, words, ideas vocalized and sheer poetry. This is why I urge anyone who reads this to read it aloud; so much of what makes this piece delightful is in the rhythm of the lines, and one is constantly astounded by the sheer creativity and sharpness of thought at work.

The story itself comes from Ovid –Shakespeare’s favourite writer, it would seem– and is a simple enough ”two hander” without the intricacies of plot that we find in the plays; yet it is easy to see this being performed as a stage drama –much of it is in dialogue, and there is something very theatrical about it. Apparently it was written during a time when the theatres in London were closed due to the plague, so there was no outlet for the young Shakespeare’s dramatic works –and thus he wrote a pair of dramatic poems that people could read for themselves (the other being The Rape of Lucrece). I would love to see it presented on stage in some way today.

Interestingly, there are echoes of the play that preceded it –Richard III– in the central role played by a boar in the poem, and the theme of a determined woman lusting for a young, beautiful man is something that clearly appeals to Shakespeare because the comedies that follow use similar elements of desire, sometimes to great comic effect –such as the poor Dromio in The Comedy of Errors being ”cornered” by the determined kitchen wench. But Venus and Adonis has some great comic moments too, that made me laugh out loud and whoop!

So for richness of language, incredibly creative imagery, and sheer delight, Venus and Adonis deserves to be FAR better known that it is. Though I said it could be read in an afternoon, I myself spread the reading of it over a couple of days. It is not difficult to tackle, once you grasp the ”tune” or ”metre”, but it needs a bit of concentration and plenty of time to savour each verse, for this is a meal with many delicious courses. Enjoy!

Favourite lines:

Were beauty under twenty locks kept fast.
Yet love breaks through, and picks them all at last.

SHAKES-SCREEN: Richard III (1955)

Courting the Camera.

Of the three Shakespeare plays that Laurence Olivier directed and starred in, Richard III is my favourite, though I think both Henry V (1944) and Hamlet (1948) are more filmic and wide-reaching visually. Richard III is more stagey, more theatrical. This is not necessarily a bad thing, for it captures probably one of the finest, most delicious performances ever in a context that respects its theatrical heritage (Olivier famously played Richard on stage earlier). And there is something about the very construction of the play that is very theatrical –essentially it is a series of small dramas or set pieces: scenes that in themselves are works of art, and beautifully crafted that way by Shakespeare. The staginess works best when Olivier speaks directly to us, because then he is using an unconventional film device (actors don’t normally talk to the camera) to improve upon a common theatrical device, creating a bond between role and audience. That this is not employed throughout the play is as much Shakespeare’s fault as Olivier’s, because it is written that way –we get no direct address from Richard in the crucial demise at the battle, and are thus relegated back to being observers rather than “confidents”.

Upon rewatching it, I was struck by how much what seeing was itself an historical document –of a style of acting and staging that perhaps to us now seems dated, but which at the time was perfectly relevant and true. When diction counted for something and clarity of expression and utterance was all important. Some of the performances come across as more dated than others, perhaps because of their shameless heightened theatricality. This is particularly true of some of lesser characters whose have no star appeal to buoy them up and are dependent merely upon their craft. Yet someone like Ralph Richardson is such an interesting screen personality that his performance –like that of Olivier’s– remains fresh and vivid. Michael Gough does wonders with his small part, and Claire Bloom is marvellous –the scene in which her character is wooed by Richard is one of my favourite in both the film and in all of Shakespeare.

People have remarked upon the unevenness of the final act, with a sunny Spanish landscape so clearly standing in for soggy England that it distracts our attention away from the narrative; the theatricality is gone and we are suddenly made of this being a film location. The way this necessary shift from studio to outdoors is handled is much more deftly achieved in Olivier’s earlier Henry V, which also has a more satisfying battle scene, but that was written more precisely too; the battle scene in Shakespeare’s Richard III only has a few lines and few directions so any film version will have to expand upon these. I think in this case there must have been many logistic difficulties with the location filming because this section of the film is sadly not on par with what has come before.

Yet, though I may seem negative, I am merely pointing things that I feel could have been better. They do not affect my enjoyment of the film, nor my high regard of Olivier as a director and performer. And of all Shakespeare films, this is the one I return to again and again.

Richard III (1955)
Director: Laurence Olivier
With: Laurence Olivier, John Gielgud, Ralph Richardson, Claire Bloom, Cedric Hardwicke

RICHARD III –The One With the Hump!

I’ll admit from the outset that this is one of my favourite Shakespeare plays, and one I know it quite well, having made and performed a condensed version of it some years ago. In that version, I played Richard as a kind of puppeteer –the other characters represented by pictures, dolls etc. Re-reading the play, I am again struck by how much of a manipulator or puppet-master Richard is –and by how absolutely his character dominates the play. Though many of the other characters are finely drawn by Shakespeare, they are doomed to be mere marionettes; their strings being pulled by Richard exactly as he want, and we never really get under the skin of any of them to anywhere near the same degree that we do Richard. And unlike many of the other historical plays, that have numerous sub-plots and intrigues and battles of wills, here it is really ALL about Richard and what he wants. He dominates and drives the story so absolutely, and in such a horrifically charming way, that one is hardly aware of the relative simplicity of the play’s plot. Yet it is brilliant theatre, and a brilliant study of power and intrigue. It is all about what Richard wants, and how he goes about getting it. And the great thing is that right from the start he is so honest in telling us what he is about to do –he charms the audience (or reader) as much as he charms those who he manipulates on order to attain his goals. And he is a great convincer –the wooing of Lady Anne is the most audacious wooing scene in the history of drama, yet it is contrasted by the failure of others to be equally convincing: witness Clarence’s failure to convince the men sent to kill him of sparing him –even though one of them is reluctant to go through with it. Or Buckingham’s untimely request for his reward. In this story, things are done one way: Richard’s way!

I read the play primarily as a series of ”set pieces” –the above-mentioned scenes being prime examples. Shakespeare must have hugely enjoyed writing it, because no scene seems at all forced or heavy –the lines burst from the page, and he would have known that the audiences would be expecting something extraordinary when it came to presenting such a notorious king. Baddies are always intriguing, but no other baddie in Shakespeare comes close to Richard. Or is half as fascinating. Personally, I find the most intriguing and illuminating part of the play to be the dream sequence in the last act: This has a naked rawness about it that reveals much more about the character of Richard than we have seen before –it is a man of action suddenly introspective –seeing himself for what he is. It has a very modern edge to it, and this was the part of the play I most enjoyed working on and performing when I did my condensed version. Shakespeare brilliantly puts this BEFORE the battle, so that when he starts fighting we have already seen the depths of his soul, so there is something quite pathetic about his demise, with those most famous of famous lines: ”A horse, a horse, my kingdom for a horse!”. Other than this the actual battle sequence as written is a bit of a let-down – it’s dispensed with in a mere few lines, and is far inferior to the battle scenes of some of the other history plays. It could be Shakespeare just wanting to round the story quickly (after four very long acts), but its low-keyness may be intentional: the build up to the battle is of far more concern and interest, in the same way that the fight to GET the crown is far more important than having it. Richard has nowhere to go once his goals are achieved. When I played Richard in my condensed version I chose to show this by having him literally deflate like a balloon –the final ”s” of his final ”horse” became the hiss of air escaping from a balloon as he crumpleed to the ground.
The discovery of Richard’s body a few years ago, and the campaign to prove that he was NOT the despotic, villainous king that Shakespeare created, has meant that Richard continues to intrigue us. I think whatever one’s view of the historical king, one can still enjoy the Richard of the play as a masterly creation.

I could write so much more about this play, but will save some points for my reviews of the three film versions I have been watching. One final thing though that I really, really like about this play is the way Shakespeare gives some of his most beautiful lines ever to the murderer of the young princes –the description of their death could so easily have been written in a direct, shocking or coarse way, but Shakespeare bravely makes the choice to go another way, and the passage is made all the more memorable for it. This is the work of a genius.

Favourite Line:

Richard:
My conscience hath a thousand several tongues,
And every tongue brings in a several tale,
And every tale condemns me for a villain.
(Act V, Sc.3)

Character I would most like to play: Richard (of course, of course .. !)

HENRY VI PART 1 –The One With Joan of Arc

Some academics place the writing of this play after the two other Henry VI plays, and as I am following the chronology as set out in The Oxford Shakespeare which argues this, I have now read this after the other two. And I have to say my gut feeling is to disagree with the view of the esteemed editors of that volume in terms of its chronology –I believe it was written before the others; chiefly because it seems to be very uneven in style and less mature in construction. I do agree with them in that it was probably written by several people, Shakespeare being one of them, and it is fairly easy to spot or ”feel” the different voices (or pens). Thus there are parts that are more effective and well-written than others, and the overall effect can be a bit disjointing. There are good scenes and plenty of drama, but in general the development of character is less mature than in the following two parts, which is logical considering those plays are far more likely to be the work of just one writer – our boy Shakespeare. Here though it seems to be a collaboration. It works as a whole, and is full of energy but as a play it is uneven and it is not surprisingly performed even less frequently than the other two plays about Henry the Sixth.

This is not to say it is a disaster or not worth reading –quite the contrary: early Shakespeare is some ways more rewarding to read than those great masterpieces of his mature years that are on so high a level of excellence and so skillfully written that we are not immediately aware of the craftwork. It is with the early plays that we get a sense of him at work, trying out things, learning his craft and sharpening his ever playful use of language. Henry VI Part 1 is like the work of an apprentice –but a very gifted one, who will later use things he learned and tried out here to greater effect.

There are two characters that stand out for me in the large cast of characters –Talbot, the pragmatic, loyal commander who has no time for the petty squabbles and intrigues of those who are supposedly on his side and who simply gets on with the job. The scene where his young son turns up to fight alongside him is the best scene in the play, and one of Shakespeare’s best father/son scenes. It’s brilliantly heightened by having their lines rhyme, creating a bond between them that is poetical and deeply moving. It’s almost operatic in style, and it is intriguing to wonder whether Shakespeare is putting something of his relationship with his own father in these lines. I choose to think so.

The other stand-out character is, of course, Joan La Pucelle –better known to us as Joan of Arc. She is a truly fascinating historical character in her own right and we cannot give Shakespeare credit for creating her, but her part is written with great relish and she electrifies each scene she appears in, without descending into caricature. She is clearly ”the enemy” but Shakespeare by and large presents her in a fair and sympathetic way –or rather a way that allows us to sympathize with her position Her language is that of a true warrior and most of the French nobles around her pale beside her. I found the scenes with her the most rewarding to read, and I think Shakespeare must have enjoyed writing them as they flow so easily.

Henry himself comes across in a rather wishy-washy way here –he is after all only a boy or very young man, and though the play bears his name it is more about the people around him who are all manoeuvering like mad. There is a great deal of family and inter-family squabbling, and once again it does help to have a genealogical table nearby when reading the play, just to untangle some of the relationships and alliances. Sadly, I have yet to see a full stage production of the play, though I remember fondly the English Shakespeare Company’s televised version some years ago which was part of their ”War of the Roses” project.

Favourite Line:

Sir William Lucy
O. were mine eye-balls into bullets turn’d,
That I in rage might shoot them at your faces!
(Act IV, Sc.VII)

Character I would most like to play: Talbot

SHAKES-SCREEN: Titus (1999)

Marvellously Shocking!

Having just read the play Titus Andronicus I was eager to take a look at the 1999 film version. I found it an uplifting experience, because though the film was quite different to my own visualization of the story, it was a perfectly consistent modern take that both respected the language and construction of the original play and provided an exciting, personal interpretation –respectful of Shakespeare but true to itself. In fact, I rate it as among the best screen versions of Shakespeare’s work. Perhaps because it also succeeds in balancing on a line that is purely theatrical on one side and purely cinematic on the other –so that though I often feel I am watching a film of a stage production, I never feel constrained by this; for the film is genuinely and richly cinematic. I am also extremely glad that a certain amount of restraint was shown in the direction –it could so easily have been totally overloaded with effects, forced gimmicks and gore, but here the visuals –and impressive they are– never overpower the language and the interaction between the characters.

The performances are of a high level throughout, and the actors are all comfortable with the language, which is a relief because so many other “modern” versions of Shakespeare suffer from an inconsistent mixing of acting styles that distract us momentarily from the story. Here there is no attempt to slur the dialogue to make it seem “real” –it succeeds because it retains its metre and theatricality. I think Anthony Hopkins’ performance is interestingly low-key and playful –the character itself is a difficult one to fully sympathize with– but Hopkins takes us down many different paths. He is both former hard general, ambitious and later grieving father, warm grandfather figure, madman, avenger –a complex character indeed. And again, the restraint in his performance says more than any rant. I also particularly like the pairing of him with Colm Feore as his brother. Alan Cumming gives a very memorable performance as the emperor –I found this character difficult to fully get hold of when I read the play, but the boldness and audacity shown by Cumming makes him very clear –and again it’s never over-the-top as it so easily could be.

I think it does help to know at least something of the play before seeing the film as there is no real explanation of exactly who is who to begin with and this may cause some confusion –the unravelling of characters and their relationships is equally challenging in the opening of the play, so the fault (if it can be called that) lies with Shakespeare. The whole first act is a bit of a mess –perhaps intentionally– and though we are able to work out who is who and what their relationship is to the next person, it does demand a bit of extra concentration at the beginning of the film that could perhaps have benefitted from some form of narration or on-screen signing. This is, however, my only complaint –otherwise I found the film marvellous; utterly shocking, of course, but marvellously shocking!

Titus (1999)
Director: Julie Taymor
With: Anthony Hopkins, Jessica Lange, Alan Cumming, Harry Lennix, Colm Feore