Shakespeare Marathon, Part V: Coriolanus

Haughtiness in any elected official is, even if the statesman in question possesses both valor and acuity of thought, the easiest way for him to be disenfranchised by those to whom he owes his office. Nowhere is this more evident than in today's political landscape where a politician's ability to conceal any element of the patrician is to his advantage. Of course, the current situation had its antecedents in the political life of ancient society. Nowhere is this more visible than in Shakespeare's handling of the subject of one man's disdain for hoi polloi and the inevitable consequences of such scorn. The Shakespearean work in question is, of course, Coriolanus, an oft-neglected work that has been eclipsed by so many other treatments of hubris and its baneful by-products.

Cinematic adaptations of Coriolanus are practically non-existent, save for the ever-reliable BBC series to which I owe a great debt. The paucity of filmed portrayals is one reason for me to rejoice at the news that Ralph Fiennes will debut his screen version in January of 2012.

For now, I remain beholden to the British Broadcasting Company and their decision to undertake the filming of all the works within the folio. This was a seven-year project and offered viewers the opportunity to see the Bard's words enacted by a disparate cast of actors including Cyril Cusack, Phil Daniels, Anthony Hopkins, Helen Mirren and several others of note. Although the limitations of the series are evident even to the casual observer, it is a project of considerable merit and likely to keep Bardolatry alive for some time.

The next step in this marathon of sorts will be Cymbeline, and for that I am going to reacquaint myself with Imogen and Cloten and several others before watching its cinematic treatment.

Shakespeare Marathon, Part IV: The Comedy of Errors

Accessibility and brevity are paired in The Comedy of Errors; thus, the play has gained favor even among those who find many of the Bard's works daunting. The ribald humor, along with the riotous interaction among the two sets of twins, has made The Comedy of Errors deservedly popular throughout the ages.

Cinematic adaptations of The Comedy of Errors are hardly numerous, particularly when one compares it to Macbeth, Hamlet, Richard III, Romeo and Juliet or King Lear. What is on offer are the musical adaptation entitled The Boys from Syracuse and the literal adaptation by the BBC from 1983.

Two nights ago I had the good fortune to find myself alone with The Complete Works of Shakespeare, a volume I had purchased in Seoul back in 1997 and have kept by my side ever since. Alone with the massive tome, I found myself reading Shakespeare's shortest dramatic work. Wishing to see the witty repartee brought to life, I sought out the BBC adaptation on my university library's website.

The BBC adaptation is typical of the series: scaled-down sets that vary little from theatrical productions, a host of well-known British talent and a dedication to a pure representation of the work itself. The BBC adaptations have been derided as "anachronistic" and "unimaginative" in an era where Romeo and Juliet has been transported to 20th-century Los Angeles, King Lear has been set in medieval Japan and Titus Andronicus is delivered within a setting that features a peculiar juxtaposition of modernity and primitive barbarism.

To the purist, the BBC adaptations are a valuable resource. One element that may counter the sensibilities of the purist is the casting of the rock icon Roger Daltrey in the part of Dromio. Daltrey, although not particularly luminescent in the role, does acquit himself as a comedic actor. Here we see him ably portray the hapless buffoon Dromio, who is subjected to the cruel caprices of his master Antipholus, played here by Michael Kitchen. Familiar faces are, of course, Cyril Cusack in a genuinely moving performance as the condemned Aegeon and Charles Gray as Solinus. An impressive turn is given by Joanne Pearce in the role of Luciana, who is coveted by Antipholus of Syracuse. Ms. Pearce portrays well both her indignation and presumed flattery as she is wooed by the man she believes is her brother-in-law. Suzanne Bertish stands out as the wife of Antipholus who, as is the case with the principals, is woefully unaware of the farcical situation unfurling until the very end.

Many may seek out something more elaborate than this 1983 production, but it is a good point of reference for those who wish to see Shakespeare free from the transpositions his work undergoes so frequently.

Shakespeare Marathon, part III: As You Like It

Profiting from the solitude night often affords me, I found myself watching As You Like It without interruption only hours ago. In addition to the advantage of temporary desolation, I also benefit from the fact that the BBC productions of Shakespeare (with captioning!) are available to ASU students through the on-line library catalogue.

So began my third night in the race to re-acquaint myself with the Bard. What I do so love about the BBC productions, despite the limits within which they were required to work, is that they are the most faithful adaptations of Shakespeare's works. One could say that he has read Shakespeare if he has watched a captioned version of his works from this series. No deviation from the original have I found at this time.

Last night gave me my opportunity to watch As You Like It. What made this production stand out from the others was the appearance of Dame Helen Mirren as Rosalind in the 1978 televised play. Both as ingenue and schemer, the young Mirren succeeded admirably. One regret is that neither my attention span nor my ability to stay awake afforded me the chance to see the 1936 film version starring Laurence Olivier. This film is available freely on Youtube and will be part of my collection.

So, far, three days and three Shakespearean plays. Next on the list is The Comedy of Errors.

The Vegetarian Chronicles: Tofurky Beer Brats

For some odd reason, the validation offered by carnivores is important to this vegan. Such approval came a few weeks ago when, while serving my wife and an acquaintance a sampling of Tofurky Beer Brats, both expressed their delight. Pleased with the enjoyment expressed by two people accustomed to meat eating, I decided to renew this experience today after a shopping expedition at Whole Foods.

For only $3.99, I came away with one pack (four brats) of the product offered by Tofurky. The brats themselves feature an enjoyably spicy flavoring along with a thick texture that should satisfy both vegetarians and carnivores alike. Tofurky Beer Brats, like their animal-derived counterparts, should be avoided by those on a diet, though. Although laden with 27 grams of protein, one serving does feature 13 grams of fat with one gram of saturated fat. Carbohydrates are catalogued at 12 grams. This offering is acceptable for vegans as it contains no known animal products, although it does have soy and wheat within.

For those vegans who are also seeking a nutritious and relatively inexpensive source of food, Tofurky Beer Brats are a a worthy option.

Shakespeare Marathon, Part II: (Watching/Reading Antony & Cleopatra)

One minor misfortune has befallen me as I attempt to take on every play by Shakespeare via the cinematic treatment. This bit of bad luck is the fact that I cannot access the 1972 television adaptation of Antony & Cleopatra starring Charlton Heston. Normally, one does not associate Heston with Shakespeare, but I was looking forward for a bit of an escape from a series that, while admirable, can be a bit confining. That series, of course, is the BBC Shakespeare.

So, I have spent the latter part of this evening enjoying the 171-minute spectacle and eagerly anticipate tomorrow's screening of As You Like It. Not only do I have the BBC option, but an Internet search has revealed that a 1936 film adaptation starring Olivier is freely available on youtube.

On Reading Ralph Ellison and Richard Wright

Few incursions into literature have been as profitable as my recent decision to read both Ralph Ellison's Invisible Man and Richard Wright's Native Son. Even more fortuitous was my random decision regarding the order in which to read these two works. I say this because reading anything immediately after Native Son may prove anti-climactic given the richness of Wright's work.

Invisible Man had been lingering unread within my personal library for far too long. Because of the book's virtues, which have been extolled by Harold Bloom, America's foremost literary critic, my neglect of Invisible Man became a mounting source of shame. While it is commonplace to compare the two novels owing to the prominence they attained for their gifted writers, both black men who had witnessed firsthand the cruelty inflicted upon their race by not only the ruling class, but also by the subordinated Whites, the two works are vastly different.

Ralph Ellison

Richard Wright (1908-1960), in his brief life, knew deprivation on a level going beyond that endured by even the fatherless Ellison (1914-1994). Whereas Ellison was the recipient of a formal education at Tuskegee Institute, Wright saw his scholarship truncated in late childhood. Both men were lured to the North owing to a somewhat less hostile social climate and greater economic opportunities for blacks. Wright, like the protagonist he would later create, came into adulthood in Chicago. Ellison established himself within the Bohemian enclaves of New York. Both cities would serve prominently in their respective works.

Richard Wright

Invisible Man is the chronicle of a person who has been cast out of greater society through both self exile and the roles imposed by the dominant class on members of his race. Utilized cynically by the far left in his adopted city, the narrator develops a growing mistrust that pits him at odds with both white and black society. The sense of betrayal urges him into isolation; however, he also gives indications that the retreat will be temporary and that re-integration will take place and that his struggle will resume. No such optimism permeates the pages of Native Son. Native Son is the chronicle of what transpires when accumulated rage is both sublimated and expended. Everyone in the chronicle of Bigger Thomas is a victim, and no one emerges unscathed. The darkness of the work is partly what it makes it so compelling.

Both men paint a vivid landscape of America in the time before the Civil Rights' Era. The representations are both masterly, but the grim spectre of Bigger Thomas and his fate overshadows even the superlative prose of Ellison. Both novels serve as a fine starting point from which to explore African-American literature.

Shakespeare Marathon, Part I: Read/See Every Shakespearean Play ("All's Well that Ends Well")

An acquaintance of mine, who was also a devotee of Shakespeare, once expressed that those who quickly forget Shakespearean comedy have no reason to be ashamed. His reasoning was that of the canon, it is mainly the histories and the tragedies that should be retained. Familiarity with the comedies is beneficial, he opined, but far from essential. Such a viewpoint is bound to meet with reservations. Although Hamlet, Macbeth, Henry V, Julius Caesar, King Lear, Romeo and Juliet and Othello are essential for anyone of any cultural attainment, comedies cannot be relegated to a wholly inferior status. The macabre spectacle of Titus Andronicus is certainly lesser than the comedic offerings such as The Taming of the Shrew or any of Shakespeare's more whimsical comedies for that matter.

The categorizations themselves have been problematic in regards to Shakespeare. The extent to which the histories of Shakespeare have been based on actual history is a contentious issue, for example. One debate regarding the classification of his plays arises with the work All's Well that Ends Well. Normally classified as a comedy, some have taken the stance that its designation represents a problem owing to the melancholic elements of the work itself. All's Well that Ends Well chronicles the yearnings of young Helena, daughter to the famed court physician. The young man longs for Bertram, a man of higher birth, but is prevented from attaining her desires owing to class differences. Upon healing the king of his lingering malady, she is rewarded with her choice of husband; thus, Bertram is selected to fill this role. The young man, feeling entrapped, flees and is ensnared back into union with the woman he had rejected. Thus, the denouement cannot necessarily be considered a genuinely happy ending as the ultimate desires of Bertram do not seem to be in accordance with matrimony to Helena.

The reason for my choice of All's Well that Ends Well as my first selection in this Shakespearean "marathon" is a prosaic one: it's the first in line in an alphabetical listing and it is an easily penetrable work. My goal for this marathon of sorts is to read each play and enjoy at least one representation of the written word. For this, no greater service has been provided than that of the BBC who, from the late 1970s to the early 1980s, dramatized each work, many of them to widespread acclaim. All's Well that Ends Well, unlike so many of Shakespeare's plays is not given to frequent film adaptations; in fact, scouring imdb for such depictions proved almost desultory. All that was on offer was what the ever-reliable BBC could provide. For this I am grateful and last night I enjoyed over two and a half hours of finely acted Shakespearean comedy.

It is a pity that there are not more cinematic resources for this particular work as the role of Countess Rousillon is one that is indeed multifaceted and would be so worthy of many elder actresses of the British screen, particularly Judi Dench or Claire Bloom. Even G.B. Shaw, a notably acerbic critic of Shakespeare, expressed his admiration for the richness of the part itself. Perhaps in the near future we will have a definitive screen adaptation of the comedy. For now, we will have to settle for the BBC's version and that is far from disappointing.