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