"Skyey influences." What a wonderful phrase. Good writers are people who know a lot of words and have an aptitude for arranging them. Great writers are people who aren't afraid to make words up when the perfect ones are not yet in existence.
Or at least, make existing words into really great adjectives.
I didn't post on Titus yet because there's a version with Trevor Peacock and Eileen Atkins that I want to see first, as well as the Anthony Hopkins version. That, and I got busy. So... someday, perhaps...
I should be posting more regularly, however, because I am currently enrolled in a seminar on Hamlet as well as auditing Shakespeare: The Jacobean Years for the next semester, which means I'll be reading a ton of plays. Final semester undergrad. Don't want it to end. So I've got to pack in as much as I can in the next few months.
We're starting off Jac Shak (oh yes, I will be using that abbreviation) with Measure for Measure, a play which I have never read before or was even remotely familiar with. I've got to be honest, folks: not my favorite. That said, let's elaborate.
First, I want to focus on the female protagonist, Isabella. She's a fabulous woman, with a virtuous character completely above reproach. She's got one foot in a convent when she learns that, because of a new harsh crackdown on the law, her brother is going to be executed for the petty crime of knocking up the prostitute that he was seriously planning on marrying. Excessive, right? It's all because the Duke decided to run off and let his pal Angelo toughen up the law in his absence so the Duke wouldn't look like the bad guy; aside from being a pretty pansy cop-out, the Duke wasn't aware just how large of a stick Angelo has up his ass. Sure, the sex was premarital and the girl was disreputable, but it was consensual and based on an understanding. Chill out, frosty-knickers. So Isabella's told this, and urged to plead with Angelo to let her bro off. Well, she makes a beautiful argument, interwoven with elements of pathos, logos, and ethos that is truly admirable, a strong clear voice rising to a great occasion. And all Angelo notices is her rack. He agrees to let Claudio off if she'll sleep with him (so much for being the moral compass for the city). She thinks it's a horrible idea that she'll never agree to, because unlike Angelo, she sticks to her principles no matter what. She tells her brother, who agrees it's horrible, but then decides he'd rather live even if it means his almost-nun sister has to give it up. Isabella yells at him for trying to persuade her to become a whore. Luckily, the Duke (who is disguised as a friar, because he's eccentric and wants to spy on everyone when they think he's away) comes up with a plan to swap Isabella out for Mariana, an ex-fiance of Angelo whom he dumped when her dowry got lost at sea (what a guy, right? His list of good qualities dwindles further). So Angelo boinks Mariana, thinking it's Isabella, and doesn't pardon Claudio like he said he would but orders his head lopped off. They find a way to delay this order and give Angelo another guy's head. Finally the Duke decides to reveal himself and his device, but not before he fucks with everyone's mind in the weirdest informal hearing of all time. Isabella tries to condemn Angelo, whom the Duke knows is guilty, but he pretends to think Isabella is a raving madwoman and also tells her that her brother is dead, causing her immeasurable grief, anger, injustice, and disrespect. But hey! Just kidding! All is revealed, her brother's alive, Angelo makes a really lame apology that is immediately brushed over, and the Duke tells Isabella that she will marry him. Isabella has absolutely no lines after this declaration. None. I guess it's assumed that she accepts joyfully. Which is insane! If I was Isabella, I'd be absolute irate. The Duke has made her a little pawn that he's psychologically tugged and slung around for his own weird and fairly sick whim, and thinks that marrying her is reward enough for all the pain and suffering his scheme has caused. If I were her, I'd say thanks for saving my brother but besides that you can shove it where the sun don't shine; I'm going back to the motherfucking nunnery where I never have to deal with any of you ever again and where I wanted to be in the first place.
This isn't the first time we've seen a final wrap-it-all-up scene that is extremely unsatisfactory, especially with respect to the women. Three summers ago I played Viola in Twelfth Night and I remember looking at my script and thinking, the Duke asks me to marry him, which admittedly is what I've been desiring, but I don't get to say anything else! Not even my heartfelt and resounding acceptance! I mean, I suppose it's kind of assumed, but seriously, no say whatsoever? Viola's gotten so much of a voice for the bulk of the play, soliloquies and monologues galore when she's dressed in drag, but once she becomes a girl again, bam! NO MORE TALKIE-TALKIE FOR THE WOMAN!
I actually think Shakespeare's one of the less misogynist playwrights of the period, but that said, he kinda screwed the pooch on this one.
So Isabella gets the shaft even by the guy who's going to marry her, the Duke treats the good and bad alike like a careless puppetmaster, Angelo just sucks and no internal turmoil infused speeches can remedy that... What characters do we have left? Claudio - not terrible, but still guilty of whoring, and not upstanding when his sister's virtue was on the line. Escalus - a well-meaning guy, but he could have stood up a little harder for what he believed in instead of continually saying "Gosh, killing Claudio's wrong. Angelo likes the idea, though, so c'est la vie!" You know who I like? Lucio. He's an absolute scalawag who throws everyone under the bus at the slightest chance, but hey, he's nondiscriminatory about it and it's an accepted fact about him. One could suggest I value consistency in my characters over goodness. I'd say that's fairly accurate. But Lucio likes to focus on the flaws in people, and considers that they enhance a person rather than detracting from them. Furthermore, he's damn funny about it. I was worried they were going to hang him, but luckily they're only forcing him to marry whatever whore he's knocked up in his day (a punishment which he considers tantamount to torture, however).
You know what everyone in Measure for Measure could benefit from? A SENSE OF HUMOR. I've always found mine to be indispensable, especially in regard to getting from one day to the next without succumbing to insanity.
So there's my initial take. I'll be interested to see what my professor focuses on in class, how we approach it there. I'm sure it has many redeeming qualities that haven't been able to shine through the fog of my immediate scorn yet.
I can't lie, I'm completely geeked out about my classes and all the Shakespeare-y delighfulness that awaits. Might be too soon to tell, but... I think it's gonna be a good term.
