Character I’d Most Like To _______ With

I saw a “Favorite Shakespearean Character?” thread on another board, and it reminded me how completely unanswerable that question is – it’s like asking who your favorite family member is.  Different pros and cons in different contexts.

I think I once asked “Which Shakespeare character would you want to go drinking with?” but didn’t get any answers other than Falstaff. 😉

So, a more wide open game.  First fill in the blank, then give a character.  Who would you like to …

… start a business with?

… go out on a date with?

… get into a mixed martial arts ring with?

… pick as your vice president?

Get the idea?

Loki Does Shakespeare

Good timing for me – just saw The Avengers last night.  Normally it’s the good guys – Robert Downey Jr., Chris Hemsworth, Chris Evans, Mark Ruffalo – that get all the press.  But if I say the name Tom Hiddleston would you know who I meant?

Well, trick question, I gave it away in the subject line ;).  Having just wrapped Henry IV for an upcoming BBC release, check out Loki himself giving us something the audience is more likely to recognize, a little Henry V.   Hiddleston plays Hal, alongside such names as Jeremy Irons and John Hurt.  Should be a good one!

Peter Brook, on the Authorship Question

I have to admit, I didn’t realize that Peter Brook was still with us.  But I’m glad to have found this article where he discusses his thoughts on the Authorship debate:

Shakespeare was a genius, insists Brook, and “genius can arise in the humblest of backgrounds. No one doubts that Leonardo was truly Leonardo da Vinci, even though he was an illegitimate child from an Italian village.”

Mr. Brook is also the one to credit with a favorite quote of mine:

Each line in Shakespeare is an atom. The energy that can be released is infinite—if we can split it open.

Brook’s is a name spoken with reverence for quite some decades at this point.  I first heard his name attached to a legendary 1970 Midsummer Night’s Dream that predates my interest in Shakespeare by quite a little bit, although I have seen some clips.

Got any good Peter Brook experiences?

Riddle Me This, Folio Historians

So at long last I’m getting time – granted, 5-10 minutes at a shot, but still – to sit and enjoy my First Folio that I got for my birthday.

Wouldn’t you know it, I found something to post about in my very first sitting.

I’m reading Much Ado About Nothing and noticed that on the bottom right corner of every page is a single word (or two), which turns out to be the start of the next page.  At first I thought this was a typo of some sort, and then noticed that it happens on every page.

See that “Bene. That” at the bottom?  Now check out the next page:

This happens all the time, whether it is one person who continues speaking, or the speaker changes.  It does not always have the opening word like that – in fact, in a quick flip through I didn’t see any other examples where it included another word.

So my question is, what’s this all about?  What purpose does that serve?  Some sort of script clue to the reader about what’s about to happen on the next page, so there’s no unexpected break in continuity?  That’s the only thing I can guess, although using just a single word to do it seems pretty minimal.

(By the way, it does not go unnoticed that the speaker abbreviations are all over the place. Sometimes he is ‘Bened’, sometimes ‘Bene’, sometimes ‘Ben’.  The computer scientist in me hates that.  Make a rule and stick to it, people!)

How The Feud Started (Guest Post)

David Blixt has got so many Shakespearean irons in the fire that I don’t even know how to start summarizing him, so I’ll just let his press bio do it: Author and actor, director and playwright, David Blixt’s work is consistently described as “intricate,” “taut,” and “breathtaking.” As an actor, he is devoted to Shakespeare. As a writer of Historical Fiction, his Shakespeare-related novels span the early Roman Empire (the COLOSSUS series, his play EVE OF IDES) to early Renaissance Italy (the STAR-CROSS’D series, including THE MASTER OF VERONA, VOICE OF THE FALCONER, and FORTUNE’S FOOL) up through the Elizabethan era (his delightful espionage comedy HER MAJESTY’S WILL, starring Will Shakespeare and Kit Marlowe as inept spies). His novels combine a love of the theatre with a deep respect for the quirks and passions of history. As the Historical Novel Society said, “Be prepared to burn the midnight oil. It’s well worth it.”


Living in Chicago with his wife and two children, David describes himself as “actor, author, father, husband. In reverse order.”
What long time readers may also realize is that David’s been one of the earliest contributors to Shakespeare Geek, for instance in this August 2008 post about how Romeo and Juliet is actually “a comedy where people die.”
David has a literary (but not literal!) avalanche of new content coming out this week, and he’s offered some it here for a sneak peek.  I’ve chosen something from a piece that I’m somewhat familiar with, as it is integral to the plot of The Master of Verona,  David’s earlier novel, which I reviewed:


I
clearly didn’t need Lady Montague for the final scene – her husband just told
us she’s dead. I flipped back to find her last scene. She’s listed as entering
in Act Three, Scene Four, when Mercutio and Tybalt both buy it – but she’s
strangely quiet in that scene. Lord Capulet, too, but at least people talk to
him. No one addresses Romeo’s mom, even when her son is banished. In fact,
looking at it harder, Lady Montague hasn’t been heard from since Act One, Scene
One, in which she uttered a mere two lines! 

So
this was my quandary – do I cut Montague’s lines at the end of the show? Why
not? Here we are, the play is basically over. We’ve just watched the two
romantic leads die pitiably, and young, kind, noble Paris croak it as well. Why
do we care if some woman we barely remember is dead? 

But
it continued to bother me. There had to be a reason she was dead. 

Of
course, in Shakespeare’s day, there was a very good reason. The actor who
played Lady Montague was probably needed in another role – the exigencies of
the stage. Even realizing this, though, I couldn’t let go of the line. My wife is dead tonight. The rules of
dramatic structure nagged at me. A death like that is supposed to be symbolic.
But of what? Clueless, I shrugged and finished the cuts. I left the line in,
hoping my actors could figure it out. 

In
the event, they didn’t have to. I was going about my business later that week
when it hit me – the Feud! The thing that gets closure at the end of the show
is the feud. Montague and Capulet bury the hatchet. They’re even going to build
statues to honor their dead kids.
Could
Lady Montague’s death be symbolic of the end of the feud? The only way that
could work would be – If she were the cause of the feud. I
remember stopping dead in my tracks as the idea took form – a love triangle a
generation earlier, between the parents! Romeo’s mother, engaged to a young
Capulet, runs off with a young Montague instead. That’s certainly cause for a
feud, especially if young Capulet and Montague were friends. Best friends,
childhood friends, torn apart by their love for a woman. A feud, born of love,
dies with love. 

What do you think of that idea?  David’s told me that he’ll be around, so leave some comments and see if you can’t get some discussion going!  If you like this sort of interaction with the author we can do it with more excerpts from his other works as well.  Maybe next time some Macbeth?

For more information on these and all of David’s other works, please visit his Amazon author page.