Farewell to New Burbage

In what has become a Christmas tradition for me, I spent the beginning of the holiday break with the New Burbage Theatre Company.  This year it was the DVD set of Season 3 of Slings & Arrows.  The journey began two years ago with their production of Hamlet, and then it continued with Macbeth last year.  This year, the company staged (or attempted to stage) King Lear.

The third season's theme was very darkly comic.  It was a season obsessed with death.  King Lear itself is not exactly a plethora of laughs.  Add to that the lead, Charles Kingman, who is himself dying and wants to stage the play before he passes from the Earth.  In other festival happenings, Darren Nichols returns to direct a musical about a heroin-addicted prostitute.  The entire season was in macrocosm its own Lear.

For being fairly heavy, as Season 3 drew to a close I was left with a thought:  Bravo!  It was a terrific close to what was a terrific series.  The characters, both new and old, have become like old friends, and it has been a pleasure to revisit them.  William Hutt as Charles Kingman was marvelous.  He was suitably crusty and belligerent, a perfect depiction of such a role.  (As it turns out, this may be the only filmed version of his Lear.)  One of his off-stage lines was a highlight of the season.  In a cast meeting, he delivers the following commentary.

"If they'll accept that Lear has a black daughter, they'll accept anything."

Having seen plenty of live Shakespeare, I could sympathize with this statement, even if it garnered an obscenity tossed his way by another cast member.

As the curtain dropped, I will admit that there was a certain sense of loss.  The Festival was left basically in a shambles.  Charles Kingman was able to fulfill his dying wish with a marvelous performance of Lear.  Cast members moved on to other opportunities.  And the final season of Slings & Arrows was over.  What to do now?  There are still plenty of DVD special features to explore.  What about Christmas 2016?  The beauty of DVDs is that they can be re-watched.  Perhaps I'll start all over again...

A Scottish Film

Approximately one year ago, I was in the midst of watching and blogging about the second season of Slings & Arrows, the Canadian series about the trials and tribulations of a theatre festival.  The focus of that season was their production of Macbeth.  After finishing the series, I added seeing Macbeth live to my to-do list.  The 2016 Stratford Festival calendar should allow me to check that one off as "Done."

As a precursor to the summer, I happened upon the new film version of Macbeth, starring Michael Fassbender.  Were it not for a casual mention by my brother, I might have missed this one entirely.  Were it not for a quick Internet theatre search, the limited release in my area might have passed me by.  Fortunately, all things worked out that I was able to see it before it closed.

I must admit that my reading of Macbeth was long ago and incomplete.  It was on the required reading list in junior year of high school, but the teacher did not leave us enough time to read the entire play.  (Maybe we shouldn't have wasted time on I Never Promised You a Rose Garden or The Ox-Bow Incident!)  So I went into the film with a good, albeit partial working knowledge of the plot.  After the fact I checked out a plot summary of the play for comparison's sake.

I thought it was a terrific presentation, but certainly not a holiday season pick-me-up.  It was a very well done film--well acted, well directed, well photographed. It did not seem dated, but it also was not shockingly modern.  Everything fit together in a classic and classy show.

The acting was solid, with all of the roles quite believable.  Strangely, Lady Macbeth did not strike me as vile as I remembered the character; unpleasant and scheming, yes.  Her husband certainly made up for it!  Fassbender's Macbeth is by turns wicked and mad; certainly more foul than fair.  The dialogue was thickly Scottish accented at times, and it was difficult to figure out what was being said. (My own unfamiliarity with the text is partly responsible for this, I'm sure.)  I would love to see the film again with open on-screen captions in order to follow the spoken word more easily.  Seeing the film again would also provide an opportunity to take in the scenery.  It is a beautifully shot film, with picturesque backdrops of mountains, woods and the castle.

The text must have been edited in order to fit the running time of two hours, but I couldn't pick out many glaring omissions, aside from the witches' "Double, double..." lines.  The story was not changed enough to be noticeable.  The one revision that was apparent was the manner in which Birnam Wood came to Dunsinane.  In the text, the soldiers shield themselves behind branches.  In the film, fire is set to the entire wood.  The prevailing winds blow the ash at the castle, hence Birnam Wood coming to Dunsinane.  It was a novel way to fit an adaptation to the original plot without doing either a gross disservice.

The violence of the play was on full display in the film.  It was not over the top considering the text, but it also was not toned down.  It was difficult to watch Macduff's family being incinerated by a vengeful (and despicable) Macbeth.  The battlefield scenes were suitably brutal, with much blood spilt ala Sam Peckinpah.  The gore was balletic at times.  The final fight between Macbeth and Macduff was violent, but Macbeth died with his head still attached.

For the Shakespearean devotee, this is a must-see.  I would recommend it as well for the casual Shakespearean observer, although reading the play ahead of time (or at least knowing what happens) would be a big help.  It gave me even more reason to look forward to Summer 2016 in Stratford!

Hamlet & Don Quixote

In the Bloom Anthology is an essay by Ivan Turgenev, entitled "Hamlet and Don Quixote:  The Two Eternal Human Types."  Turgenev compares the two works, which appeared in the same year.  He states his belief that the characters represent "the two ends of the axis about which [human nature] turns."  All humanity can be divided into one of the two classes.  Each of us resembles Hamlet or Don Quixote.

My first thought after reading the opening of the essay was the similarity to a deleted scene from Quentin Tarantino's film, Pulp Fiction.  Uma Thurman's character, Mia, gives John Travolta's character, Vincent, her theory that people are either Elvis people or Beatles people.  While they can like both of them, they tend to prefer one over the other and this says something about their personalities.  (If you haven't seen the scene, or if you just want to give it a repeat viewing, it is embedded at the end of this post.)

Turgenev describes Don Quixote as exemplifying "faith in the truth...existing outside of the individual...[and]...which is attainable only by constant devotion and the power of self-abnegation" (author's italics).  His mind is truly addled, to the point of imagining Dulcinea, the love of his life.  Hamlet, on the other hand, represents analysis, egotism, skepticism, and incredulity.  Hamlet "lives entirely for himself" and yet has no faith in himself.  He "scorns himself, and at the same time lives, so to speak, nourished by this scorn."  Does Hamlet really love?  His interactions with Ophelia present us with that very question.

Don Quixote is a comical figure whose appearance is one aspect of the comedy.  We ridicule him and yet we can love him.  Hamlet's appearance is attractive and yet melancholic.  To love him is impossible, though, as he himself does not love anyone.  Hamlet is literate, of noble birth and royal lineage, yet he rebukes kings and courtiers.  Don Quixote is ignorant, poor, old and lonely with no connections, but deeply respects monarchs and other existing orders.

Turgenev considers that Polonius and Sancho Panza represent the general masses' reaction to Hamlet and Don Quixote, respectively.  Polonius humors Hamlet, tolerates him as an adult would a sick child, but ultimately the masses find Hamlet to be useless.  That feeling is mutual.  As one of noble birth might complain, "[Is] it really worth while to bother about the masses?  They are so rude and filthy!"  Conversely, Sancho Panza knows Don Quixote is demented and yet is devoted to him to the point of death.

Turgenev summarizes his discussion thus.

"And so, on the one side stand the Hamlets--reflective, conscientious, often all-comprehensive, but as often also useless and doomed to immobility; and on the other the half-crazy Don Quixotes, who help and influence mankind only to the extent that they see but a single point--often nonexistent in the form they see it."

At the conclusion of the essay, I was left with the question.  Into which category would I fall?  I think this blogging exercise makes that answer quite apparent.  Considering Turgenev's argument, though, is that good or bad (or does thinking just make it so)?

Sweet "Prince"

Douglas Brode's novel, Sweet Prince:  The Passion of Hamlet, is now added to the ever-growing collection of all things Hamlet.  While not as overwhelmingly awful as it had been advertised to me, it certainly is a strange and not altogether pleasant entry into the Hamlet literature.

The novel is inspired by Sven Gade's silent film (see 10/19/14 post).  Typing that line alone warns the reader of the spoilers to follow, but consider the abridgment a service to save you from having to read the entire novel.  If you don't want the plot ruined, though, stop reading now.

The novel opens with a back story to the usual Hamlet narrative.  We are introduced to the same characters with whom we are familiar.  Claudius (called Fengon) and Gertrude are romantically involved, leaving Old Hamblet as a not-entirely unknowing cuckold.  Polonius and Ophelia round out the royal court.  Young Amuleth (Hamlet), child of Old Hamblet and Gertrude, is a student at Wittenberge with friends Fortinbras and Horatio.  Laertes, too, is there, although he is much the alcohol abuser and ladies' man.

The home situation reaches a boil when Hamblet dies at the point of Fengon's sword.  The death is ascribed to marauders.  A funeral and hasty marriage follow, and Brode provides a reason why this turn of events occurs and why Amuleth (soon to be Hamlet) does not rise to Denmark's throne.

The action follows the predictable Shakespearean-inspired path.  Hamlet puts on a bit of an antic disposition, for a time in the guise of a cross-dresser.  A roving group of players perform a grisly play for the members of the court, leading an offended Claudius to stagger from the room in search of light.  Hamlet visits Gertrude's chamber for the anticipated confrontation.  Suddenly, the action veers sharply a la Gade.  His film took an extraordinary liberty with Shakespeare's original:  it turned Hamlet into a princess.  Brode uses the same plot element.  We learn that Gertrude gave birth to a daughter and has been hiding this from Denmark for decades.  Following the revelation, a concealed Polonius is stabbed to death.

What follows is awkward both in the action of the story and in its written word.  The prince is now a princess, and the personal pronoun shifts from he to she.  Horatio heads out into the woods for a homosexual liaison with Hamlet and discovers the true gender of his friend.  The two engage in lovemaking described in graphic terms.  Ophelia stumbles upon the two, believes that she is seeing two men making love and staggers away, ending up in the river.  In this instance, though, she is saved from drowning by Fortinbras, on his way to the castle.

The plot for Hamlet's death is hatched with Gertrude as the chief conspirator.  The duel follows.  Hamlet unveils her true self to the entire court.  A sword fight with an unbated sword follows.  Laertes is stabbed to death on his own foil.  Gertrude drinks poison purposely to save her daughter from death.  Claudius dies at his own hand, falling on his sword.  At the moment of death, though, he unleashes yet one more shocking plot twist:  he is Hamlet's true father.  We discover that Old Hamblet had a notion of this, but he chose to believe Gertrude's lies to the contrary.

After some self-realization by Hamlet, the story ends with the four friends--Hamlet, Horatio, Ophelia and Fortinbras--as rulers of a new "modern" kingdom.  Brode alludes to this modernity extending into bedroom activities including all four of them.  The players (remember them?) ride off into the sunset and everyone lives happily ever after.

A strange novel, indeed!  In the introduction to the work, Brode discusses his writing method.  He states that all of the written dialogue is taken from one of Shakespeare's written works, be it play or sonnet.  While I did not check this (nor do I intend to), the novel read as if it were an accurate statement.  Taking Shakepeare's lines and putting them into different contexts at times came across as amateurish, though.  Old Will must have groaned to see "Once more into the breach" used by Gertrude as a come-on to Fengon for a second romantic liaison or to see Hamlet ask an amorous Horatio if her beaver is "easier than it was."  Much of the description of romantic encounters is exceedingly graphic, moreso than is truly necessary to make one's point.  It appears that Brode got caught up in the enjoyment of his writing.  I must give special note, however, to perhaps the most clever line to appear in the work:  Hamlet is called "the prince formerly known as Artist."  Bravo!

Overall, I cannot recommend this one to the general reading public, for one very important reason.  It tarnishes Shakespeare's original.  I dread the thought that someone might read this alone and think that it is representative of Hamlet.  I could recommend it to those who are familiar with Hamlet, if only to use as an example of what one can do with the story, for better and for worse.

Seasonal Shakespeare

Finally, some time for Shakespeare!  Granted, that meant that this week's post is two days later than usual.  Last night was the big-screen presentation of The Winter's Tale, courtesy of the Kenneth Branagh Theatre Company and the Garrick Theatre.  It was another among the many terrific works brought to audiences by Fathom Events.

I have to get the negativity out of the way first.  The show was scheduled to start at 7:30 p.m.  The curtain did not rise until 8 p.m., though.  For thirty minutes it was credit screens and an overhead shot of the theatre audience, with a Kenneth Branagh narrated introduction thrown in the middle.  While the introduction was interesting, it could have been shown promptly at 7:30 p.m. or before.  There really is no reason that a show should not start at the scheduled time.  (And really.  8 p.m. EST is 1 a.m. GMT.  Why is this advertised as "live" theatre?  Is a performance really being staged in London at 1 a.m.?)

Another minor issue was the cinematography.  The play was shot in 16:9 Cinemascope.  It gave this viewer a constrained, claustrophobic feeling.  While the extreme wide angle was good to capture all of the lateral action, losing the top and bottom of the frame did give it a tight perspective.  It could have been better with more height and less width.

There.  On to the acting, which was excellent!  Kenneth Branagh as Leontes was the slimiest, most wretched villain I have seen in a while.  Branagh played it absolutely to the hilt--at once pitiable and detestable.  The tragedy portion of the play, which covered the first half of the performance, was at times difficult to watch.  The interval was much needed, if only to catch one's breath and to get some relief from having to see Leontes mistreat his family.  Judy Dench as Paulina and Miranda Raison as Hermione were additional stand-out performances.

The second half of the play, the pastoral comedy portion, seemed to drag a bit.  (That could have been due to the late start and the twenty-minute interval.)  Once the main cast was all reassembled for the climax of the play, though, the action picked up.  The final scene, with the appearance of the statue of Hermione, was well done.  It was suitably emotional and not emotive.  The audience was left with the feeling of a happy ending...as long as they forgot that because of Leontes, Mamillius is still dead.

Overall, it was a very pleasant evening at the cinema.  I was impressed with the quality of Branagh's company, minor production issues notwithstanding.  The troupe will present Romeo and Juliet next year (as we were reminded repeatedly throughout the previews and interval).  Although it's a long way off, it is one more performance that I will hope to see.