Showing posts with label The Winters Tale. Show all posts
Showing posts with label The Winters Tale. Show all posts

Monday, November 7, 2011

Was blind, but now, I see



The figurative meaning of "sight" and "vision" in King Lear is an obvious message that Shakespeare wants to get across. But I still wanted to share something I thought was cool about it anyway.

Lear: Out of my sight!
Earl of Kent: See better, Lear, and let me still remain
The true blank of thine eye.

I noticed the juxtaposition of these two lines, how King Lear is commanding Kent to do something and Kent is commanding King Lear to do the exact opposite. It's easier to see the "command" if you understand a Spanish translation:

Lear: Sal afuera de mi vista!

Conde de Kent: Vea mejor, Lear, y déjeme que yo siga como el marco verdadero de su ojo.

The words in bold are in Spanish command form.

So far, I don't see Kent as having an independent streak and wanting to rile up the king, like Paulina in The Winter's Tale. Kent seems like the kind of guy where if he is provoked, then something must be really wrong.

Beyond the actual action of the play, I think it's easy to see Kent as an embodiment of the voice of reason. Therefore, what King Lear is actually doing is telling reason to leave, and Kent is telling the king to use reason, and let it continue to be his primary focus.

How many times do we have reason staring us right in the face and yet we find a way to avoid it or ignore it? I can think of a few times when I have been guilty of it as well as family members of mine.

Another embodiment of reason is Cordelia. Did you notice that she doesn't do much to defend herself after King Lear lashes out at her? All she does is explain to the King of France what her father has done. I think it must be because, as the voice of reason, Cordelia knows reason will win out in the end (although, as we readers know, it wins out tragically).

Why do you think Shakespeare keeps Cordelia silent after her father's berating and banishing?

Wednesday, October 26, 2011

Figment of Imagination

Did anyone feel like The Tempest ended too quickly?

I think I would have liked to actually see Ferdinand and Miranda get married, or Ariel be freed, or the comeuppance of Caliban, Stephano and Trinculo, or Prospero reinstated as Duke of Milan. But Shakespeare leaves the play open-ended.

Of course, I thought of Act V, Scene II of The Winters Tale, when Shakespeare portrays the cathartic family reunion with a conversation among witnesses, instead of the actual reunion. When I blogged about it, I thought maybe the purpose was to show off Shakespeare's descriptive writing skills, and let the audience imagine what that reunion must have been like.


Is that what Shakespeare is doing here with The Tempest? I think so, but there might be another element to it. I think it plays into the mystique and fantasy of Prospero's island. The whole play takes place on the island, and magic and supernatural powers are in every scene. It makes the whole play seem like a dream sequence.

What if it's all a dream, and Prospero wakes up and he's still on the island and still not the Duke of Milan?

Wednesday, October 19, 2011

Reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated

I thought it was interesting to compare Alonso and Fernando with Leontes and Paulina, from The Winter's Tale.

When Alonso and his men wash up on shore, Fernando assures his king that the prince Ferdinand is still alive somewhere:

"Francisco: Sir, he may live:
I saw him beat the surges under him,
And ride upon their backs; he trod the water,
Whose enmity he flung aside, and breasted
The surge most swoln that met him; his bold head
'Bove the contentious waves he kept, and oar'd
Himself with his good arms in lusty stroke
To the shore, that o'er his wave-worn basis bow'd,
As stooping to relieve him: I not doubt
He came alive to land."

While Francisco is trying to keep Alonso's hopes up, Paulina finds every opportunity she can to remind Leontes that Hermione is dead and that it's his fault:

"Paulina: This news is mortal to the queen: look down
And see what death is doing. ...
but the last,—O lords,
When I have said, cry 'woe!' the queen, the queen,
The sweet'st, dear'st creature's dead,
and vengeance for't
Not dropp'd down yet. ...
I say she's dead; I'll swear't. If word nor oath
Prevail not, go and see ..."

What's funny is that in both cases, the character who is presumably dead is actually still alive.

We've spent time in class talking about Paulina's motivation in reminding Leontes that his queen is dead. But why is Fernando reassuring King Alonso that Ferdinand is alive? Is it simply a general optimism? Or is there some other motive, like Paulina had?


Monday, October 17, 2011

Bring me that horizon

So for now I'm moving on to the next assignment in my Shakespeare class: The Tempest.

I don't know anything about The Tempest, other than I remember seeing the "Wishbone" episode way back when. ("Wishbone." Man, what a great show that was.)

Here's something cool that I found in the first scene:

"Boatswain: Do you not hear him? You mar our labour; keep your
cabins: you do assist the storm.

Gonzalo: Nay, good, be patient.

Boatswain: When the sea is."

I like the boatswain talking about the sea as if it's a real person, as if the sea could be patient or could use some assistance in its storm. It seems like that's how a real sailor would talk, especially one in Shakespeare's day who was probably more superstitious and more likely to believe in Poseidon, Neptune, etc.

And I also thought it was interesting that, even though everyone on the ship thinks they're going to die, the royalty still apparently thinks there's time for complaining to the sailors. I think it's a sign of the "divaness" of the upper class, that in the middle of a deadly storm they feel so inclined to clash with the "blue collar crowd." Seems to me like "straightening deck chairs on the Titanic."

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Now, on to Act I Scene II: What do all these people have in common?

Luke Skywalker

Harry Potter

Mia Thermopolis from The Princess Diaries

Woody from Toy Story 2

Perdita from The Winter's Tale

Miranda from The Tempest

That's right - they all had secret identities and destinies that are revealed to them in a major plot point of their stories.

Why do you think that element is used so often? Is it because we all have that wish? To someday miraculously find out we are something more than we thought? That we "smack of something greater than ourselves"?

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When Prospero said that Caliban was "A freckled whelp hag-born—not honour'd with a human shape," I thought, "Well, then what does he look like?" Click here for the ideas some people have come up with.

A lot of them remind me of Gollum, which makes sense, because Caliban does seem like quite the contemptible little creature.

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The Tempest will be our next field trip, this time to Salt Lake City. I wonder how they're going to show the storm in the first scene...I'm guessing it will probably be like this:


...just kidding.


Sunday, October 16, 2011

The Intergalactic Edition

1) As Mark Antony goes over his war plans with Octavius and Lepidus, he finds a chance to talk about Lepidus behind his back:

"Octavius: You may do your will;
But he's a tried and valiant soldier.

Mark Antony: So is my horse, Octavius..."

He sees Lepidus as just the sidekick or henchman, a beast of burden who can do their bidding. He's like The Clown in The Winters Tale. Check out this post to read more about the henchman/sidekick/doofus character.

2) Even though it comes out that Brutus is just in a bad mood because Portia has committed suicide back in Rome, I think he was right to chastise Cassius for supporting bribery. I agree that, if the message they want Romans to understand is that they were acting out of honor when they killed Caesar, then they have to show honor in every aspect. By allowing bribes, Cassius compromises that honor and undermines their mission. He's just another corrupt assassin if he exhibits any major moral failings.

I think nowadays, what might seem like "undermining a mission" is just portrayed as irony. Like Newt Gingrich calling for Bill Clinton's impeachment back in the '90s, when he himself was having an extramarital affair and ended up divorcing his wife and marrying his mistress. Was Gingrich really one to talk? Just like is Cassius really one to talk about honor and preserving Rome's dignity?

3) So Mark Antony is threatening to kill senators now? Is that really a good idea? Is it because all the senators are on Cassius' and Brutus' side? Or maybe he just thinks they're on Cassius' and Brutus' side?

Either way, it seems like Mark Antony is going on a superfluous rampage. I think he is a little power hungry.

Do any of you think of the battle in the Galactic Senate? Or is that just me?


4) Interesting that the ghost of Caesar introduces himself as "Brutus' evil spirit." So is it really Caesar coming back with a message for Brutus? Or is it just a vision and representation of Brutus' dark side?

Thursday, October 13, 2011

1953 Julius Caesar live blog #10

I liked that during Mark Antony's speech, the camera cut to the blind soothsayer in the back of the crowd but in the foreground of the scene. He's an observer of the chaos that he knew was coming, and in plain view for us so that we can see the speech from his point of view.

(How do you think the blind soothsayer compares to Time/Antigonus in The Winter's Tale? Both characters are like the omniscient observers who only briefly intervene, and then let the events run their course.)


And we're back to the mob mentality. From Brutus' words, the crowd believes Brutus and the other "noble men" had to do what they had to do. But then when they actually see Caesar's bloodied body, the significance of what just happened really hits home.

Oh, that was sneaky: after Mark Antony riles up the crowd, and he turns to go back into the palace, we see a slight smile on his face. So does he have some sort of maligned motivation (or "ambition") after all?

1953 Julius Caesar live blog #4

So when it comes to all the calamities and atrocities that occur under "this disturbed sky," the movie doesn't actually show any of them, other than the thunder and lightning. Rather, the movie relies on Casca's description of the events. Is that sort of like Act V Scene II of The Winter's Tale, when the apparent climax of the play is not seen but only described? Or did the movie just not have the budget or technology to produce all those special effects?

(And I thought I remembered "the ides of March" happening later in the play. Maybe my memory is correct, and what's happening right now isn't the ides of March. Or maybe Mankiewicz moved that part way up to the beginning of the movie. I guess I'll figure it out when I hit play again.)

Sunday, September 25, 2011

Northern Aggression

I, like many of you, spent the day yesterday at the Utah Shakespeare Festival in Cedar City, Utah. We took a field trip down to see The Winter's Tale. It was really great to see the play so soon after reading the play, it was a lot easier to compare the two and learn from the story. For example, while reading the play I was having some trouble understanding the role and purpose of Autolycus, but after seeing him it made a lot more sense (and was a lot more entertaining).

Here are some of the big observations I made while watching the play:

- Probably the most striking feature of this Shakespeare play was that the costumes were from the 20th century, not the 16th or 17th. But they didn't change anything else or modernize anything else about the play. The characters' names were the same, two lords of Sicilia were still sent to the Oracle at Delphi, etc. But I think the costumes really added another dimension and was a very insightful decision made by the director Brian Vaughn (who also played Leontes).

The whole first half of the play, I was thinking "This is Winter's Tale meets The Great Gatsby," because that's what the costumes reminded me of. Very urban, very high society.








But then, when the second half of the play began in Bohemia, and it was very rural and country. That distinction of course could be made from Shakespeare's original play. But what added to it was the costumes. It was especially notable when Polixenes and Camillo came to the sheep-shearing festival dressed as Colonel Sanders.

That's when it hit me: Sicilia was the north and Bohemia was the south.

Here are some other images that sort of evoke the north and the south in the early 20th century.

North:

The Great Gatsby

The Great Gatsby

















Citizen Kane
The Philadelphia Story



South:

To Kill a Mockingbird

Gone With the Wind

Forrest Gump

O Brother Where Art Thou?


- The other really cool thing about this performance of The Winter's Tale was who they chose to play Time, to open the play after the intermission. The actor who played Time was the same actor who played Antigonus. And it wasn't just to double-dip and save on personnel. The actor came out on stage in his whole Antigonus costume and make-up, beard and everything. But as he began to speak, he took off his suit jacket and beard.

I wonder what this was trying to say. Here's my theory: maybe all along, Antigonus was Time, or Fate, and through that capacity he was able to take Perdita to a place where eventually her true identity would be discovered. Sort of like how we Mormons sometimes think of The Three Nephites. Time/Fate is all-knowing, and somehow knew that by taking Perdita to Bohemia that night, she would be discovered by the shepherd and eventually reunited with her family. And after the intermission, Time comes to reveal that, 16 years later, his plan has been realized.

Thursday, September 22, 2011

Bookend Brothers

Check out these two passages:

Act I, Scene I

Camillo:  
Sicilia cannot show himself over-kind to Bohemia.
They were trained together in their childhoods; and 
there rooted betwixt them then such an affection, 
which cannot choose but branch now. Since their 
more mature dignities and royal necessities made 
separation of their society, their encounters,
though not personal, have been royally attorneyed
with interchange of gifts, letters, loving 
embassies; that they have seemed to be together,
though absent, shook hands, as over a vast, and
embraced, as it were, from the ends of opposed
winds. The heavens continue their loves

Archidamus:
I think there is not in the world either malice or
matter to alter it.

... and ...

Act V, Scene II

Third Gentleman: Did you see
the meeting of the two kings? 

Second Gentleman: No. 

Third Gentleman: Then have you lost a sight, which was to be seen, 
cannot be spoken of. There might you have beheld one 
joy crown another, so and in such manner that it 
seemed sorrow wept to take leave of them, for their 
joy waded in tears. There was casting up of eyes,
holding up of hands, with countenances of such 
distraction that they were to be known by garment, 
not by favour. Our king, being ready to leap out of 
himself for joy of his found daughter, as if that 
joy were now become a loss, cries 'O, thy mother,
thy mother!' then asks Bohemia forgiveness; then 
embraces his son-in-law; then again worries he his 
daughter with clipping her; now he thanks the old 
shepherd, which stands by like a weather-bitten 
conduit of many kings' reigns. I never heard of such
another encounter, which lames report to follow it 
and undoes description to do it."

So, the play begins and ends the same way, with a conversation between two less-than-secondary characters describing the brotherly love Leontes and Polixenes have for each other.

For good measure, here's me and my brother, who is 19 months younger than me (with two of our younger sisters):



By the way, why do you think it is that Act V, Scene II is a conversation between three characters, who aren't even named, about the climax of the story? Why didn't Shakespeare write out that scene? Did he just get lazy?

I have one theory. Maybe Shakespeare intended to describe the scene rather than display it, tell instead of show. He does use some beautiful language in describing how happy everyone is now. Maybe he wanted to put together a few well-crafted words, and leave the rest to imagination.

Wednesday, September 21, 2011

Clownin' Around

(Whoops! Sorry this blog post is late!)

While reading Act IV of The Winter's Tale, I was thinking a lot about the Clown as a stock character. When you think of a "doofus" character, he's usually on the antagonists' side. He's not necessarily evil himself, but for some reason he's been recruited by the villain. He just does what he's told, and seems to have nothing better to do than to do his master's bidding. Also, almost always the doofus/henchman is larger in size than the villain. I think typically, the villain is the brains behind the operation, but he is physically weak, so he/she has a big brute to do some of his/her dirty work.

Now, in the case of the Clown, his "master" is his shepherd father, and so there's nothing strange about honoring and obeying his father. And, the Clown and his father are not villains. In a way, they're both "doofuses" (or "doofi," haha), because they're both simple country folk. But I still imagine the Clown to be a big guy, especially in comparison to his older, somewhat doddling fool father.

Here are some examples of this stock character that come to my mind:

http://nukethefridge.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/06/igor1.jpg
  • Igor from Frankenstein - Although Igor's and Dr. Frankenstein's plan isn't intentionally nefarious, it does involve from questionable ethics from the get-go. Breaking into a lab and stealing brains? Imitating God? But Igor mindlessly goes along with it anyway. I haven't actually read the book, but from what I can tell from the various representations I've seen, it doesn't even seem Igor recognizes the scientific ambition of the experiment. He doesn't seem to have much of any thought.

  • Pinky from Pinky and the Brain - Basically the same as Igor, but more of a doofus. (To go to my favorite Pinky line, skip to :59 in the video.)

http://www.wearysloth.com/Gallery/ActorsM/10949-1401.jpg
  • Lenny from Of Mice and Men - Is Lenny a good guy or a bad guy? His violent tendencies are usually an obvious sign of evil, but in his case he doesn't know any better because he's a "doofus." Even more than just a "doofus," really. That doesn't mean he avoids getting in trouble though.

 
  • Kronk from The Emperor's New Groove - Another comical take on the chief henchman character, only this one is so "doofusy" that he seems like a good guy. Which makes him the highlight of the movie.

http://www.hotflick.net/pictures/007ENC_Timothy_Spall_004.html
  • Nathaniel from Enchanted - I love the scene when he realizes that he's been a pawn in Queen Narissa's plan, and decides that he deserves to be his own man. It was one of my favorite modernizations of the classic fairy tale in Enchanted.

http://unrealitymag.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/03/109536_1219475040688_full.jpg
  • Little John from Robin Hood - Little John is a good guy sidekick. But he doesn't seem too much like a doofus, just somebody who honestly believes in the same cause as Robin Hood does. But, because he's the larger and more jovial of the two, he becomes the right-hand man.

http://www.gutenberg.org/files/76/76-h/images/c14-112.jp
  • Jim from The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn - More than just a doofus sidekick, I think he's the actual driving force of the plot, because he's the reason Huck goes on his journey. Only, Jim doesn't seem to realize he's the focus.

What other examples can you think of?

Monday, September 19, 2011

Sit right back and you'll hear a Winter's Tale

Here's a sort of hodgepodge of thoughts I've had while reading Acts II through IV of The Winter's Tale:

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- I found three instances of characters comparing their characteristics as if they are measurable.

Paulina, talking about Hermione: "... a gracious innocent soul, More free than he is jealous."

Paulina, talking about herself: "... no less honest Than you are mad ..."

Hermione, in her testimony for the court: "You, my lord, best know, Who least will seem to do so, my past life Hath been as continent, as chaste, as true, As I am now unhappy."

It looks as though Hermione and Paulina should be understood as the opposite of Leontes. Where Leontes is the nadir, Hermione and Paulina are the zenith.

Also, do we do this in real life? Do we say "I'm as good at" something "as he or she is bad at" something? Do we compare ourselves to others with exact quantities?

Another way to think of it: Does the worst day of your life counterbalance the best day of your life? Does one unit of happiness equal one unit of unhappiness? Or does a little bit of happiness outweigh a lot of unhappiness? Or is it vice versa?

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- I noticed two references very close to each other to shoulders.

Clown, when describing the bear attack he just saw: "And then for the land-service, to see how the bear tore out his shoulder-bone; how he cried to me for help and said his name was Antigonus, a nobleman."

Autolycus, when he is faking an injury to take advantage of the Clown: "O, good sir, softly, good sir! I fear, sir, my shoulder-blade is out."

The two events are 16 years apart in the story, and on either side of an intermission while watching the play. But when you read it, they seem like they are right next to each other. So I guess it might be a way that Shakespeare is playing with the fast-forward through time. Or, is it a foreshadowing of what is to come? Should this injured traveler's shoulder remind the Clown of Antigonus' shoulder being eaten by a bear? Should he be anticipating the story coming full circle? Should we?

Huh, I don't know, maybe I have a thing with the symbolism of body parts.

Speaking of bears, here's Jim and Dwight having an academic discussion on what bear is best:  

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http://images.askmen.com/celebs/men/entertainment_200/230_james_bondlarge_image-1.jpg
- A pretty obvious connection with Polixenes spying on his son and Polonius wanting to spy on his, right? One thing that is different to me is that Polixenes is doing it himself, instead of sending someone else with instructions of how to spy. What does that say about Polixenes? Is he more paranoid than Polonius? Or more of a "do-it-yourselfer" than Polonius?

Tuesday, September 13, 2011

Throne of Lies

(Our class took a brief pause during our reading of Hamlet in order to read The Winter's Tale, before we go on our field trip to see it at the Utah Shakespeare Festival.)

It is just amazing to see how far King Leontes is willing to go. First, he sees Polixenes and Hermione acting friendly, and assumes the worst. Then, he immediately assumes Hermione is pregnant not with his baby, but with Polixenes'. After he sends Camillo to kill Polixenes and they both disappear, he is certain that Camillo is in on this whole thing too. And, when his son Mamillius falls ill, there is no question in his mind that it is because his son is so distraught by his horrible mother.

Isn't that the way it goes with lies? We probably all have personal experience with an initial lie, that we have to expound upon further and further until our story exposes itself as false and ridiculous. Along those same lines, I think of David from the Bible. Not only did he advance a lie further and further, but also a sin. He started with lustful thoughts and before he knew it he had committed murder.

What's funny in King Leontes' case is that he has no need to one-up himself or anybody else. He's not competing with anybody, and no one is paying much attention to his lies from the very beginning. His only audience is himself. So why does he perpetuate his senseless jealousy?

I suppose it could be similar to what often happens when we feel mad or sad. We have a tendency to want to stay mad or sad, and resist any efforts to cheer ourselves up. For some reason, it's like we want to be mad or sad. It's ridiculous, of course, but for some reason we do it.

Speaking of trying to one-up everybody...