I just wanted to take a moment to thank all my contributors for making ShakespeareGeek what it’s all about. Go look at some of the recent threads on Gertrude, or the essence of tragedy in Romeo and Juliet. All I do is put a question out there. Look at the answers. Look at their length, their detail, and most of all their quality. Look at the variety of opinions, and the range of experience of the people answering. I love it. I learn something new every day. I’m glad we seem to be getting back into that level of discussion, that’s my favorite. I don’t have anything to give away at the moment other than blog time, so that’s what I’ll give. Got something to plug? Let’s hear it. Consider this post an open invitation to link back to the project of your choice (preferably Shakespeare related!). It’s not spam if I openly ask for it. Who’s first? Don’t be shy.
Author: duane
Hamlet's Dad
Picking up on something Main Man said in the “Did Gertrude Know?” thread, let me ask a followup question:
What do you think Hamlet’s relationship was with his father?
I bring this up because in one response MM asks, “why is Hamlet at Wittenberg if he is so close to his father (particularly at 30)? Could it be that Hamlet’s paternity could be in doubt?” and then later he states, “He does want Hamlet to avenge “his death,” but I do not think they have a good relationship.” I happen to agree. I’ve always thought Hamlet’s father to be something of a scary man, a very imposing, warlike king. Impressive to his subjects, certainly – but a loving, affectionate dad? Maybe not so much. So I think much of Hamlet’s hesitation comes out of a fear to acknowledge his true feelings about his dad. He wants to be all Fortinbras, mobilizing armies in his quest for revenge, but he ends up more Laertes, saying the words and claiming that he’ll do whatever must be done, but then never going through with it. (It’s always been my position that what causes Hamlet to finally act is vengeance over the death of his mother.)
Why Do You Hate Shakespeare? What Do You Hate About Shakespeare?
When I blogged about “Why Is Shakespeare So Hard” based on references in my search logs, it became one of my most commented topics. I’m curious if that trick will work twice. The Romeo and Juliet thread made me think of a similar question, as seen above.
What do you hate about Shakespeare?
Now, as a bunch of Shakespeare geeks who are voluntarily spending our time talking about it, I don’t expect that the regular readers hate him all that much. What I’m hoping is that people googling the topic will stop by and enlighten us about why *they* hate him, and then maybe we can do something about it or at least understand it a little better. Of course, if you’re a Shakespeare pro and you’ve got some hatred to vent, go for it.
You Do Realize Romeo And Juliet Is A Tragedy, Not A Romance, Right?
A question from the audience!
What is the cause of the tragedy in Romeo and Juliet?
Is this an open and debatable question, or is it one that has a specific answer that popular opinion gets wrong? The tragedy of Romeo and Juliet is not in the romantic notion “Oh no, it’s so sad they couldn’t be together!” It’s in the stupidity of the adults who don’t see the error of their ways until Fate kills their children for them and says “Now do you get it???” Or is it? Discuss. Or perhaps I’ve misinterpreted the question about the “cause” of the tragedy? Bonus question – what do you think happens after the conclusion of the play? Do you think that Capulet and Montague really do learn their lesson, and the feud is over? Or are they merely going through the paces (for some reason the images of Heat Miser and Snow Miser from Year Without A Santa Claus just came to mind…), and will be at each other’s throats again 5 minutes after the Prince dismisses them? Oh dear god somebody gouge out my brain for thinking of this, but I blame Disney…..could you imagine Romeo & Juliet : The Sequel? !
Factory Hamlet
http://www.londontheatreblog.co.uk/factory-hamlet/ I think I’d like to see this! The Factory’s Hamlet is one of the more celebrated fixtures of London’s theatrical underground. Every Sunday, a company of actors pitch up at a different location, each with a selection of learned roles at their fingers ends. Parts are allotted randomly, and each performance develops in response to the given space, with the aid of props brought along by the audience.