I wrote earlier today that “Words are timeless, performance is not.” If the greatest performance of Hamlet was performed 100 years ago, what’s that to me? I missed it. Even today, the most ardent defenders of the “see it don’t read it” school still freely admit “Every night is different.” So perhaps the best performance was yesterday, not tonight. So sorry. Aha, but what about film? Now we’re talking a whole different animal. In a way it is simply the persistence of a performance. You could, although it’s not done so commonly anymore, do a straight recording of a stage play. Or you could, to put it mildly, go crazy. The “language of film” (thanks Alan) is not my point. I’m interested more in the idea of persistence, and the idea of not missing things. Rosenbaum’s Shakespeare Wars spends most of its opening chapters talking about a 1970’s version of Dream by Peter Brook that changed the author’s life. He raves about it. He travels the world looking for people to speak with about it. But you know what? I can’t get into it. Because I wasn’t there. No amount of praise from anyone who was there will bring me any closer to experiencing it, other than to simply say “Wow, I wish I’d seen it.” I have seen a good handful of Dream productions at this point, some good, some not so much. The only real constant has been the text. Each has bits and pieces that I like, but none had me stark raving. Compare film. Have I seen what Orson Welles did with Falstaff? Not yet, but hang on a bit……ok, seen it. Yeah, that was good. I can now have an opinion, we can discuss it. I feel as if I’ve shared that experience with others. And by others I don’t just mean others who have seen the movie, I mean the people *in* the movie. I have an opportunity to feel what they feel, from my living room couch. A different example that I’m trying to hunt down is Olivier’s Othello, which apparently only exists as audio. In trying to find the right words to do justice to Olivier’s performance Rosenbaum chooses not a line, not even a word, but a syllable within a single word – Desdemona. There’s apparently a bit near the end, when Othello is wailing his wife’s name, that his voice cracked in just that certain way that encapsulated all of the hero’s anguish in one simple sound. Had Rosenbaum been telling me this of a production he saw 30 years ago, I would at best be able to say “Wow, wish I’d seen it.” But instead I find myself thinking “I wonder where I could get that?” It’s here that performance wins, hands down. I agree completely. I can know the words of the plays, but in my head I would never see the facial expression of Hal when he denies Falstaff, or the cracking voice of Olivier’s Othello. For that, I need performance. But I’m very jealous of performance. Don’t tell me that I’ve missed the good stuff, I don’t want to hear that theatre is exciting because you never know what you’re going to get from night to night. I want the infinite beauty and depth of what it means to be human. Maybe I can have that on film, maybe I’ll get to see it live. Either way, they’re both speaking the same words. So by studying the words I still get myself that much closer to the goal, even if I never get all the way there. Know what I mean?
Shakespeare's Only Rival
http://www.nysun.com/arts/doing-battle-with-the-bard/76756/ Is Milton Better Than Shakespeare? So asks Nigel Smith in his new book of the same name. The title of this post comes directly from the article, in describing Milton: Ever since “Paradise Lost” was published in 1667, Milton has been acclaimed as a supreme English poet, Shakespeare’s only rival in linguistic mastery. Yet even at the height of his prestige, in the 18th century, Milton never inspired the kind of ardent intimacy that readers bring to Shakesepare. Nor is it simply our lazy generation, unused to reading long poems and deaf to the majesty of Milton’s artifice, that has relegated “Paradise Lost” to the seminar room. Even Samuel Johnson, in his “Life of Milton,” wrote that “Paradise Lost is one of the books which the reader admires and lays down, and forgets to take up again. None ever wished it longer than it is. Its perusal is a duty rather than a pleasure. We read Milton for instruction, retire harassed and overburdened, and look elsewhere for recreation; we desert our master, and seek for companions.” The article goes on to point out that apparently no, Milton is not better than Shakespeare, as the book really ends up being more of an introductory piece on the current issues in Milton scholarship.
Who Killed Marlowe?
So an anonymous poster found an old post of mine entitled Who Killed Christopher Marlowe? where he begs assistance: Here’s the thing,I’ve got an english project on this guy, this Marlowe fellow,and I want to know precisely how he died,and who killed him. can you recommend me a reliable source? you are Tht Shekespeare Geek after all. I could go to the usual Wikipedia and things, but I’m wondering if somebody out there’s a Marlowe Geek. The best I’d be able to tell the commenter is the usual about Marlowe dying in a bar fight, and the theories about him secretly being a spy, faking his own death, that sort of thing. Anybody got better, more reliable info than me?
Who Is Sarah Blasko?
http://www.ozmusicscene.com/sarah-blasko-does-shakespeare/ I’m not sure who this Sarah Blasko person is, but I like the idea of “composing the score for Bell Shakespeare Company’s latest adaptation of Hamlet.” Anyone familiar with her work? Australian, apparently.
Welcome John Hudson of The Dark Lady Players!
http://www.darkladyplayers.com
If you don’t recognize the name, John Hudson is known for having put forth Amelia Bassano Lanyer as the latest contender for the Authorship Question (also known as the “Shakespeare was a black Jewish woman?!” theory).
When I first posted about the theory I wondered aloud if it was a joke. I also wondered why the discussion is always about As You Like It, since it seems that you’d want to go right to Shylock if you’re going to argue that a Jewish person created him. So when I got email from Mr. Hudson, I apparently have no shame, I dove right in and asked both questions :). Answers printed with his permission:
Q: With all due respect, are you serious? Or is this some larger satirical joke on the Authorship question as a whole that’s gone over my head?” (paraphrased)
A: Actually I am serious–which is why in March last year I went to London to present this theory to Mark Rylance and the Shakespearean Authorship Trust, who treated it seriously and brought her in as candidate number 8 at the top of the ‘other candidates’ section of their website. I would also not be spending money putting on demonstration allegorical versions of the plays unless I was serious!
Q: Why have I not heard anyone ask about Merchant, or even Taming of the Shrew? Why would Bassano have written such misogynistic, anti-Semitic works?
A: This theory holds that the plays are written as allegories—as was much of Elizabethan and Renaissance literature—so they have a meaning in some cases on the surface that is opposite to what they really mean underneath. Both MOV and Shrew are quite complex, so it is easiest if I begin referring you to my analysis of more straightforward plays like MND and AYLI (which we are currently rehearsing for production in late July). Once you see how those work it is easier to make analogies to the others. For instance I would show why the way that Adam disappears half-way through AYLI is a parallel to the way that Shylock disappears half way through MOV–and what happens to them is similar. (I would however refer you to the literary signatures she has left on the two Shrew plays, which have also recently been detected by Rene Weis in Shakespeare Unbound pg 177).
(I certainly plead ignorance regarding the depth of these arguments, but that answer to the Shylock question does seem similar to the “nonono, it’s not anti-Semitic, it’s showing us the dark side of anti-Semitism” case that we’ve spoken of.)
Hudson goes on to add, “The only person who has ever considered Amelia Bassano was the Russian critic Gililov, who identified the Shakespearean quality of her poetry (The Shakspeare Game pgs 305-312) then decided as a lower class woman she could not have written it, even though she was educated by a duchess and a countess from the age of 7. Once you have read the two documents will be happy to talk further, and yes please use it in your blog, I would like to get the public debate going!!”
[John did attach two PDF documents for me, but I don’t have a good way to attach them to this post. Perhaps if he is reading he can provide links.]
Thank you to John Hudson for his response, and the boatload of reference material he provided. I’ve got some reading to do.