Kabuki Hamlet

A one-time Christmas gift was the DVD set of the TV series Danger Man starring Patrick McGoohan.  I've been working at it, on and off, an episode at a time, for a while now.  Tonight I fired up the penultimate episode of the series, "Koroshi."  It was strange, not quite up to par of the previous episodes, and it was in color (a first for the series).  These qualities alone do not qualify for a blog post, however.

Our hero, John Drake, finds himself investigating the death of a Japanese agent.  While on the trail, he ends up at a Kabuki theatre.  There was no warning of what was to come.  The cast members took their places.  Two were seated upstage, wearing what appeared to be royal garb.  Two downstage cast members each took sword in hand.  Something looked familiar.  The "king" upstage slipped a foreign substance into a tea (or sake?) cup.  One of the sword fighters was slashed on his cheek.  The "queen" eventually drank from the cup and fell dead, presumably poisoned.  By the time the scene was over, the king, the queen, and the two sword fighters all lied dead on the stage.  And this author was grinning from ear-to-ear.

John Drake caught it, too.  He commented that it seemed familiar, and then gave away that it was a presentation of Hamlet (well, the final duel scene, anyway).  It was unexpected for him to see it on stage, and it was equally unexpected for this viewer to see it on screen.  The closing credits identified the segment indeed as Hamlet, and each actor was noted in his role by Shakespearean character name.

Fate, coincidence--call it what you will.  It was another bit of Hamlet happenstance.  And so it goes.  One more episode of Danger Man, then on to The Prisoner.

Falling

On a few (or perhaps more than a few) occasions in this blog, the post has dealt with fate or coincidence.  I still recall when I came across the topic of this post, the novel Falling For Hamlet by Michelle Ray.  I was at an outlet mall perusing a bargain bookstore.  You may know the type.  The books are all new but discounted.  The store's sections are differentiated by genre, but there the order ends.  Books sit on shelves nearly at random--no alphabetization by author or title or anything.  Many of the books sit with only the spine showing, substantially decreasing the odds that they will be chosen.

As I wandered the shelves, my cell phone buzzed.  It was the boss of one of my jobs at the time, texting to see if I could work that evening.  Although the outlet mall was a distance from home, I texted back that I probably could make it.  I put the phone back in my pocket and then noticed the cover and title of the book that sat directly before me.  "First comes love, then comes madness."  Falling For Hamlet.  Although work did not pan out that night (I cut short my excursion and headed for home, only to find a "Sorry I got someone else" text.  I quit that job.), the day was not a total loss.  My Hamlet collection had a new member.

It took a while for the book to make it to the top of the "To Read" pile, but it finally got there.  And now it has moved to the "Read" pile.  This one is an interesting, modern retelling of the Shakespearean story.  By the author's admission, she wrote it "as part of [her] ongoing quest to make [her students] love Shakespeare" as much as she does.  Even for this reader, who has been around this block many times, it works.

The story takes place in Denmark in modern times.  Many of the characters from the original are here, although some of the names now refer to different roles.  For instance, Francisco and Barnardo are agents for the Denmark Department of Investigations, which is headed by Fortinbras.  Yorick appears only as the name of a local music group, the Poor Yoricks.  (At least he's there; alas, poor Osric was written out entirely!)  The gravediggers are not present, but their discussion regarding the nature of suicide is carried by a pair of commentators on a TV religious program.  There are some new characters as well.  They are members of Ophelia's personal circle, outside of the castle.

This novel takes Ophelia from side character to protagonist.  Told entirely from her point of view, it tells about her role in the events of the original story and their effect on her.  The bulk of the story runs in three separate accounts.  The main account is first-person from Ophelia to the reader.  There also is a third-person account of Ophelia appearing on a talk show (shown in italics in the book).  The third account is that of a transcript of the interview of Ophelia by Francisco and Barnardo (shown in a typewritten font).  Generally each chapter starts with the talk show account, moves to the first-person story and then concludes with the interview.  The tripartite structure works well, providing foreshadowing while keeping the story moving ahead.

The majority of the action in the story corresponds directly to Hamlet.  The author does create more of a backstory for Ophelia, actually giving her a private, personal life.  Beyond that, there is one major difference.  A spoiler alert might be a little late if you read the last paragraph; that Ophelia is the storyteller (and this is not a tale from beyond the grave) is a none-too-subtle hint.  The circumstances, while a bit of a stretch, work within the context of this story.  The modernization, with cell phones, closed-circuit cameras, TV programs, and elevators, is not terribly shocking.  In fact, it's nothing that is beyond what has been done in other modern versions of the original.

The duel is replaced with a lacrosse game, the annual Elsinore Academy alumni game.  The stage for it had been set with a throwaway description early in the story, namely that Hamlet knew one of Ophelia's male friends "from the lacrosse team in high school."  It leads to a strange, inventive climax, new and yet true to the original.  I wondered about lacrosse figuring into the novel, and then I read the author's biography at the end of the book.  Upon discovering that she graduated from Tufts College, the proverbial bulb lit.  Her alma mater is a well-known college lacrosse power;  I have announced several games featuring Tufts, with both favorable and unfavorable outcomes.

(Speaking of fate, as I sit typing this, there's Peter Friedman--a one-time Polonius--on my TV in an old episode of Law & Order.  See 8/21/2017 post.)

A fitting denouement, the author provides a note at the close of the book.  It serves as an explanation of how she came to write this enjoyable novel.  She summarizes it beautifully.

If you're familiar with the original, I hope this book has provided you with an entertaining twist on a great story.  If you don't know Hamlet, I encourage you to see it.  Note that I didn't say "read it."  As I say to my students, Shakespeare is meant to be performed, not read.  Do as you like...Then try another Shakespeare.  And another.  The man could tell a story.

Michelle Ray has succeeded.  It was indeed an entertaining twist and certainly a novel worth reading!

A Lovely Saturday

This week's Shakespearean interlude brought a return to a Stratford Festival production.  The Saturday feature was the film of the 2015 production of Love's Labour's Lost.  Although it was available to stream, I went with the DVD version instead.  After all, it had been sitting unopened in my collection since its 2017 arrival.

The play was entirely unfamiliar to me.  I started with a perusal of the Essential Shakespeare Handbook (see 5/2/2020 post) to get some background.  Not being exposed to LLL is common, apparently; the Handbook notes that "[readers] new to Shakespeare rarely begin with this play, mainly because so many other plays in the Bard's canon are more familiar."  Armed with an introduction, it was time to settle in for a few hours.

As noted in the Handbook, LLL requires a strong company performance due to its lack of traditional leading roles.  The Stratford production had that!  Many members of the cast had performed in Hamlet that season, so I had seen them before.  In LLL, they meshed beautifully, important for the debates and wordplay that fill the script.  Mike Shara as Berowne was notable as the ringleader of the suitors.  He had portrayed Laertes in Hamlet, and I had seen him off stage as well.  (See 8/16/2015 post.)  Tom Rooney as Holofernes elicited laughs with his atrocious Latin and menorah hat.  Juan Chioran's Armado was equal with his over-the-top Spanish accent and plethora of rolled r's.  Gabriel Long as Moth, however, stole every scene in which he played.  It was wonderful to see a young actor consistently upstage his fellow, older cast mates.

The play itself was exceedingly enjoyable.  I'm not as well-versed in Shakespeare's comedies, having seen only a few either live or recorded.  The banter in this one is witty, humorous, and keeps the audience (live and at home) engaged.  The ending of the play, which brings a downbeat to the uplifting comedy, is curious.  The Handbook notes that originally there was to have been a sequel, Love's Labour's Won, but it has not survived.  Fortunately this one has, and it will stay in my collection for a future re-viewing.

Horowitz, Hawthorne & Hamlet

This week's Shakespeare Saturday called an audible.  Originally, it was to be a review of the Stratford Festival's film of The Tempest.  Although I knew going in that Prospero was acted by a female, I fired it up and settled in.  The titular cataclysm played well on stage.  The action moved to the island, with Prospero and Miranda in discussion.  It was when the former recited the line as "thy no greater mother" that I pulled the plug.  It was too nice a day to deal with such misdeeds.  Instead, I went with Scott Pilgrim vs. The World.

So what to post?  I decided to recount a recent and very unexpected appearance of Hamlet.  The apartment complex where I live has a bookshelf outside of the rental office.  It's an impromptu library sort of thing--leave a book, take a book.  In these days when actual libraries are awaiting whichever phase allows them to reopen at a distance, this bookshelf is a welcome sight.  Granted, many of the books are pulpy fiction and romance offerings, and my personal "to read" shelf is still considerably full.

In any event, I took a gander while visiting the office and noticed a title that looked promising:  The Word is Murder by Anthony Horowitz.  The author was familiar; I had read (and enjoyed) Forever And A Day, his prequel to Ian Fleming's James Bond series.  The book itself stood out--a first edition hardcover among mass market paperbacks.  The dust jacket blurb made the story sound interesting.  The price of the book sealed the deal.  I grabbed it; little did I know what awaited me.

The story itself is excellent and creative:  the real-life author injecting himself into a fictional detective story murder mystery.  It was fun seeing the intersection of the real world London of Anthony Horowitz and the fictional London of Detective Daniel Hawthorne.  Additionally, there were plenty of eerie parallels to my own interests.  I expected a reference or two to James Bond, given the author's other works.  Those appeared, in the guise of discussions of titles and settings.  There were mentions of Arthur Conan Doyle and Sherlock Holmes, much appreciated by a reader who has been through that author's entire canon.  There was even an extended discussion of Herge's Tintin, revolving around a film version in which Horowitz was involved as a screenwriter.  Before public libraries took a pause, I had been working my way through the Tintin series.  The mentions here elicited a bit of literary nostalgia.

What is the relevance to this blog, however?  It did not take long.  On page 2, the following quotation appeared:  "When sorrows come, they come not single spies, but in battalions."  Hmmm.  I know that one.  Interesting coincidence; there was no mention of Hamlet anywhere in the dust jacket.  Just a one-off from an English author, methought.  It was not an isolated incident, though.  Later there was a description of a fountain with the quotation "To sleep, perchance to dream."  This game of "Find the Allusion" was proceeding nicely.

When the plot shifted to stories of a drama school production of Hamlet, I could not help but smile (and laugh and think about a future blog post).  The description of the show--good heavens!

"We did it in the round with no set and very few props.  We used a lot of masks...influenced by Noh theatre...[The] fight scene in Act 5...was done with fans, not with swords."

I've seen some clunkers on stage (and on film), but that one would certainly have been in the top five!

The Word Is Murder turned out to be a wonderful surprise!  It was an engrossing read, and the mystery was handled cleverly and fairly.  When I reached the end, I had to flip back to review clues that I had missed but were really there.  If only I had been as astute as Detective Hawthorne!  To the general mystery fan--highly recommended.  To the Hamlet fan--a definite!  I will be giving the apartment complex bookshelf another look on my next trip.

Law & Order Meets Hamlet

This week's Shakespearean Saturday led to a break from Stratford Festival offerings and instead to a trip into the DVD collection.  It also marked a return to the play that started this whole enterprise seven years ago.  Our entry for today--Hamlet, circa 2000 and courtesy of Campbell Scott and Hallmark Entertainment.  I picked up this DVD long ago on a family trip to Texas, back when Hastings entertainment stores were a thing.  It was a Hamlet that I did not have, so why not?  I watched it and put it into the DVD cabinet, and there it sat until today's rediscovery.

One curiosity of the DVD presentation is the formatting description on the case.  The film is described as "Full Screen Version."  Usually that is enough to steer me away from a purchase.  Further down the liner notes is the following:  "Formatted from its original version to fit your screen."  Below that note, however, is this one:  "Presented in the original 1.33:1 format in which the film was shot."  So the film was not edited into a "pan-and-scan" format.  Confusing but ultimately not problematic.  The film presentation shows the entire picture as intended.

The cast list allowed me to exercise another favorite hobby.  As a die-hard fan of Law & Order, it's fun to pick out series guest stars when they appear in other TV series or movies.  In this case, the film could have been billed as a Dick Wolf production (thunk, thunk).  No fewer than nineteen cast members made at least one appearance in the original L&O.  (I caught many of them, but IMDB.com helped with the rest.)  That's not even counting guest appearances in the other members of the L&O franchise or Jamey Sheridan's recurring role in L&O: CI.

In another crossover moment, the film's music was composed by Gary De Michele, who did the same for the 1996 film Big Night.  (He supplied a Hamlet cameo as a piano player.)  That movie (terrific, by the way!) was co-directed by Campbell Scott, who also appeared in the film, as did Peter McRobbie, the priest in Hamlet and recurring cast member of L&O.

The setting of the film was difficult to figure.  It was not modern, but it was not Elizabethan either.  IMDB.com calls it "turn of the 20th century America," even though the DVD liner notes refer to a Danish prince and the plot still includes England, France, and Norway.  The costumes, very natty, fit that time frame.  The lush locations--castle and environs--are not specific enough to be tied directly to a particular region.  The characters' dialogue does not display any regional accents or dialects.  One other noteworthy item related to setting:  it was very sunny in this Elsinore.  While other productions have used persistent drear and rain as an indication of the gloominess of the situation, that was not the case here.  Certainly the weather was no reason for our characters to be unhappy!

The running time for this Hamlet was just a shade under three hours.  Although dialogue from Shakespeare's original was excised, it was done adroitly.  In fact, most of the cuts would not even be noticed unless one is well versed in the written play.  The Fortinbras plot remained, as did all of the soliloquies.  Much of the original action was kept intact.  The film never felt long (even with a brief afternoon nap inserted).

The film opens with a visual montage--gargoyles, cast members.  We see Claudius spitting a mouthful of wine into Gertrude's mouth.  That was our incredibly creepy introduction to the new king of Denmark.  Francisco, sick at heart, opens the action on patrol.  His replacements arrive, and away we go.  In our introduction to the court we meet Polonius, a seemingly genuine gentleman, and his children.  Campbell Scott's Hamlet is restrained in our first viewing of him, and this was how he played much of the film.  This is not a histrionic, violent prince.  He is mild mannered and soft spoken; in fact, the dialogue was so understated at times that it was hard to hear what was being said.

Hamlet and friends go out to see the Ghost, and a directorial decision seen in other productions was used in this one.  The Ghost was able to control Hamlet's actions, moving Hamlet's body in a recreation of his own poisoning.  It made the prince akin to a marionette.  When the three swear their allegiance over Hamlet's sword, the Ghost pulls the sword from them and down into the sand.  The blade cuts all three, sealing their pact and making them blood brothers, as it were.

Hamlet's madness begins moderately, reminiscent more of grief than of an antic disposition.  In fact, Hamlet appeared to be rather scholarly, sporting spectacles and professorial dress.  The only initial sign of madness is the voice of the Ghost that he hears while he "comes reading."  This leads him to smash the eyeglasses against the desktop and then to attempt self-mutilation.  He ponders cutting his wrists in an obvious nod to suicide, ending up only cutting his forearm instead.  In a questionable directorial turn, the "To be or not to be" soliloquy is delivered at this point.  It was one of the few choices in the film with which I disagreed.

Following the misplaced soliloquy, the play proceeds according to the Bard.  Hamlet calls Polonius a fishmonger.  Rosencrantz and Guildenstern appear on scene.  At first they are entirely interchangeble, but Hamlet's reunion with them leads to a direct identification of each.  The players come to Elsinore.  Interestingly, the actor who portrayed the Ghost also portrays the First Player; we notice the similarity, but Hamlet does not.  The Player gives the Priam speech and is interrupted by Polonius.  As our Polonius is clean-shaven, Hamlet indicates he "shall to the barber with [his] tongue."

Hamlet next delivers the "rogue and peasant slave" soliloquy.  Screaming "Vengeance," he stabs a full-size portrait of Claudius.  In pulling it off the wall, it falls on top of him and we see Hamlet flat on his back, covered with a portrait.  Very brave indeed!  He resolves to set a trap for the king.  Following a report by R&G to Claudius, we move to the nunnery scene.  The only trace of the "To be or not to be" soliloquy in its proper place is the odd "Fair Ophelia" line that remains.  A well-played nunnery scene leaves us wondering about Ophelia.  She seems to set Hamlet up and then acts (?) sad when he turns on her.

The Mousetrap scene does not include a dumb show, a standard directorial treatment.  Gertrude and Claudius sit at one side, and Hamlet and Ophelia sit at the other side.  Horatio hovers in the middle, keeping an eye on the action.  After the play breaks up and Claudius heads to prayer, Hamlet intends to stab him.  In this case, it is the Ghost that seems to stop him and not his own indecision.  Hamlet heads to Gertrude's chamber and stabs Polonius twice.  Once would be impulse, but the second time...

Ophelia's madness scene is reasonably played.  Her grief fits the character; it's believable and not overdone.  Laertes returns, and eventually he and Claudius meet to begin conspiring.  Gertrude enters, and it is at this point that she would deliver the details of Ophelia's death.  In a masterful directorial twist, however, she enters and we cut immediately (thunk, thunk) to the graveyard.  What happened?  The audience is left hanging (and freed from the excessive, annoying drowning speech).

The graveside scene follows in a fairly standard fashion, with some editing to save time.  Hamlet and Horatio return to the castle to discuss the trip to England, and Osric appears.  As it turns out, he has been around for the entire film, appearing as an unnamed attendant in the court introduction.  Happily, this comic scene is played in full.  The duel starts slowly and rather stiffly.  As we move through the first hit (sword only) and the second hit (sword and dagger), the action starts to pick up.  Unseen by Hamlet, Laertes switches weapons before the third pass and delivers the fatal cheap shot through Hamlet's gauntlet.  Angered, Hamlet starts to brawl, eventually disarming Laertes and stabbing him with his own sword.  Claudius' death is particularly violent.  As many times as I've seen his death scene, I gasped at this one as the sword went through the King and the chair.  Claudius' end matches his beginning--a mouth full of wine.

As Hamlet dies, he sees the Ghost of his father and "the rest is silence."  Fortinbras enters the castle, Horatio delivers his closing, and the soldiers shoot.  Roll the credits.

Although this version of Hamlet may not be quite as famous as those of Olivier, Gibson, and Branagh, Scott's Hamlet is, dare I say it, more enjoyable.  The film is well-acted throughout, and aside from the unnecessary rearrangement of soliloquies, the direction is equally compelling.  Readily available for viewing online, it definitely is worth your time.

Back in Time

May 9 in Upstate New York.  Once upon a time, this might have been a day spent watching college lacrosse from the sidelines.  The current situation in the world scotched that option months ago.  As is typical of weather in the area, though, it still was a perfectly fitting lacrosse day.  As I type this, the outdoor temperature is 40, with a feels-like temp of 30.  It snowed for a bit this morning.  Certainly not a day to be in the elements on an athletic field (although admittedly if the choice had been offered, I would have been there!).

So what to do with the day?  The Stratford Free Films @Home offering this week was the 2016 production of Macbeth.  This was a trip back in time for the author, literally.  Macbeth was on the trip itinerary in 2016, and it yielded two posts to the blog (7/18/2016 and 7/24/2016).  It also joined my DVD collection when the film was released in 2017.  Instead of going to YouTube for today's viewing, I fired up the BluRay player and climbed into the recliner.

The film was every bit as powerful as I remembered it, fallibility of human memory notwithstanding.  The performances, costumes, set design that were described in the previous posts still have that "Wow" factor, four years later.  The final scene still brought a chill, and the curtain call still brought a tear to the eye.  From the comfort of one's home (and with the option to pause the show for a brief afternoon nap), it made for a delightful 150+ minutes.

While unable to spend the day with friends, as had been the plan months ago, the day still allowed for a reunion of sorts.  I look forward to seeing what next Saturday might bring!

The Timeliness of Shakespeare

Today's title is multi-dimensional.  At the simplest, it's another Saturday and so time for another few afternoon hours spent with Shakespeare.  Having finished The Hollow Crown last week, the author was left with a "What next?" sort of feel.  Thankfully, forces conspired to provide an afternoon's enjoyment and another post.

The Stratford Festival has been the site of several pleasant dramatic excursions, many of which are detailed in previous posts on this blog.  When I saw that Hamlet would be returning this summer, it sparked a renewed interest in heading north following a couple of years away.  Due to our current worldwide health situation, however, the entire season's schedule has been canceled.  So much for that!

In their good graces, the Festival has given a gift to those missing live theatre (and those many confined to their homes).  The entire slate of Stratford on Film productions are being broadcast via the Internet for in-home viewing.  One (at least, this one) cannot thank them enough for such generosity!  While I have seen several of the films previously and own a few on DVD, this would be a chance to see those that I have missed.  This week, as luck would have it, was one of those films: the 2018 production of Coriolanus.

This is one of Shakespeare's plays with which I was totally unfamiliar.  Before sitting down to watch, I borrowed a copy of the Essential Shakespeare Handbook by Leslie Dunton-Downer and Alan Riding.  (See illustration below.)  It is a wonderful resource for learning about Shakespeare's plays, and it is a terrific way to prepare for a viewing.  Each section details characters, plot lines, and external information about the play.  If you can find a copy, it is well worth it!  On this occasion, it gave me a grounding in the story and characters of Coriolanus.  On to the play/film!

Although the play itself was a new experience, seeing the cast members brought back memories of past Stratford trips.  Graham Abbey (Aufidius), Tom McCamus (Menenius), Stephen Ouimette (Brutus), Tom Rooney (Sicinius), and Johnathan Sousa (Lieutenant) were familiar faces; it was a joy to be able to spend the afternoon with "friends."  Each was excellent in his current role.  Two new (to me) actors gave magnificent performances.  Lucy Peacock as the domineering Volumnia played perfectly one of Shakespeare's strongest female roles.  Andre Sills as Coriolanus was captivating.  He made his character's seething, barely-contained rage seem natural and not emotive.  For a role as full of pride and arrogance as this one is, at times I almost found myself feeling sorry for him, a testament to Mr. Sills' performance.

The set for this production was as captivating as its star.  Done in a modern retelling, the set featured television, office suites, a pub, even an automobile.  The scene that involved two soldiers texting each other took it a bit too far.  Never mind that one would hardly use Shakespearean language (and complete punctuation) in a text.  The exchange went on too long and missed the mark.  The death of Coriolanus comes as a result of a gunshot wound, not the expected sword fight.  A switch from the the original, it still felt true to the work.

In converting the stage production into film, the director and editor did a masterful job with the camera.  In fact, it became difficult for me to imagine how the staged production must have looked.  The transitions--backdrops sliding, offices shifting, Coriolanus driving to Antium--played well on the TV screen.  Camera angles switched frequently from extended widescreen to tighter shots.  Cuts and fades to black moved across the screen; the final fade began with black creeping in from the top left and ended with a shot of Aufidius and Coriolanus in the bottom right corner of the screen before the entire screen was dark.

On yet one additional level, the scheduling of Coriolanus felt very timely.  In an e-mail advertising the performance, the Festival included a link to an article about Coriolanus that appeared on the website of The New Yorker.  Written by James Shapiro, the article pointed out parallels between Shakespeare's play, written in the early 1600's, and today's political situation in the U.S.  While I try to stay out of political debates, the comparisons Mr. Shapiro draws are striking, including the characterization of the President as "another outsider lacking in empathy, who is pressed by his supporters into a political role for which he is completely ill-suited."

The curtain falls on another Saturday with Shakespeare.  Thanks to the Stratford Festival, there will several additional opportunities to watch a new film (or even re-watch an old favorite).  Like the old Loew's Theater jingle said, "Sit back and relax and enjoy the show!"

Once More Unto The Breach

Another Saturday, another chance to spend some time with Shakespeare.  This week found the author finishing The Hollow Crown series with its final installment, Henry V.  It is generally a great piece of work, providing a fitting end to the series while enticing viewers to delve further on their own.

My first experience with Henry V was during the undergraduate class that included I Henry IV and II Henry IV.  (See previous two weeks' posts.)  At least, that's what the class notes tell me.  Admittedly, much of the discussion has disappeared from memory.  (It was twenty-five years ago, after all.)  At some point during the course--or maybe that was during high school--we also may have watched some of Kenneth Branagh's film version of Henry V.  For some reason, a visual of Branagh dressed as a king comes to mind.

The story line is still familiar due to the 2016 Stratford production, Breath of Kings.  It is a pretty straightforward plot, though--the continuing adventures of King Henry V as he battles with France while continuing to mature as a ruler and leader.  Helping to sort out the plot is a chorus, a Shakespearean addition not present in the first three chapters of the Henriad.  The chorus appears in The Hollow Crown version, voiced by actor John Hurt.  The placement of the voice-over makes sense in a stage production of Henry V.  It is used to open the play apologetically, urging the audience to let their imaginations run wild.  It is impossible to turn "this wooden O" (the Globe Theatre) into a realistic presentation of Agincourt and to play out the tale of Henry, so the audience is asked for patience as the play describes soldiers, battles, and horses "Printing their proud hoofs i' the receiving earth."  For a film version, however, which is not constrained by one location (or a small budget), it does not fit as well.  Such a willing suspension of disbelief is not required for this lavish production.

The film opens at the funeral of Henry V, an additional scene not taken from the source text.  The bulk of the film follows as a flashback, perhaps lending more credence to the idea of the chorus as storyteller.  Tom Hiddleston reprises his role from the previous two chapters.  In the current episode, he has grown to be the mature leader of England.  The tavern fun of his younger days is gone, illustrated only in a passing flashback.  His former tavern friends, Bardolph and Pistol, are now soldiers in his army.

What of Falstaff?  As with Shakespeare's play, there is only the briefest of mentions.  The tavern hostess recounts the sad tale to Bardolph and Pistol.  Tossed aside by his former friend, the King, Sir John sits alone, left to perish from a "fracted" heart.  It is a sad end to one of Shakespeare's greatest characters.

The action in Henry V moves quickly.  Henry's army is victorious in the siege at Harfleur.  Bardolph is caught plundering a church, violating orders from Henry.  The punishment is death by hanging.  There is no room in the King for mercy for his old friend, and we see Henry react to the sight of Bardolph dangling from a tree.  While there might have been some sense of sadness in the King, he covers it well.

As the army awaits the next battle, Henry dresses in a cloak and mingles incognito among the soldiers.  This spying is reminiscent of his tavern days.  Although the King is a ruler, there is still some of the old fun streak left in him.  It is a stretch to believe that Pistol does not recognize him, though.  An additional interaction with a soldier leads to an exchange of gloves and the promise of future fisticuffs, another bit of comic relief.

The Battle of Agincourt is very well produced for the screen.  Unlike previous battles, the editing is not so quick as to cloud the action.  The depiction is befitting a battle that left thousands dead (on the French side).  Of course, the famous St. Crispin's Day speech is present and well delivered.  Following the battle, Henry re-encounters the soldier who unknowingly had threatened to fight the King.  The humorous interaction leads not to violence but rather to the soldier being given a glove full of gold crowns.

The film drags for the last portion as it turns into a (mercifully) brief love story between Henry and Katherine.  Following the victory at Agincourt, the wooing scene is an anti-climax.  As Henry wins the hand of Katherine, we jump back to the King's funeral and the voice-over by the chorus, who appears in person to close out the film.  Henry V is dead, and infant Henry VI is king.  A teaser is delivered about the reign of Henry VI to come, and the Henriad is concluded.

For a great telling of Richard II, I Henry IV, II Henry IV, and Henry V, one need look no further than The Hollow Crown.  (Certainly avoid Netflix's The King!)  Excellent on all counts, it was (and is) an excellent way to spend a few Saturday afternoons, whether it is a first exposure or a chance to revisit old friends.  It has given the author the incentive to continue into Shakespeare's Henry VI...once libraries are reopened and one can check out videos again.

What to do next Saturday?  Well, that's seven days away, but I have an idea or two.  Until then...

Part II as Part III

The third of the author's Shakespearean Saturdays finds us continuing through The Hollow Crown.  Today's installment:  Henry IV, Part II.  With a title that displays obviously its connection to its predecessor, the film, while enjoyable viewing, shows clearly that it is less a whole story than a continuation of the prior episode.

As I mentioned in last week's post, my experience with the Henriad began in a high school English course.  It continued through my undergraduate years.  During the spring semester of sophomore year, I took a course on Shakespeare, a core requirement but also an area of personal interest.  The portion of the course dedicated to histories included both parts of Henry IV.  While it was a refresher in Part I, it was a first exposure with Part II.  Delving into the further adventures of Sir John Falstaff would not end with the course's required study of the play.  All things in due time, however.

The film version of II Henry IV is not what one might describe as action-packed.  The battle scenes of the predecessor are not here.  In fact, the entire military sequence, such as it is, consists of the ambush by Prince John of Lancaster of the traitors following a sham peace agreement.  We see them hauled off to execution while the members of the departing army are slaughtered.  How is one to feel about this tactic?  An ignominious death to a band of traitors feels wrong, even though their own actions ultimately led to their deaths.  Sympathy for the devils, indeed.

Much of this film is a study of characters.  King Henry IV faces the end of his reign and life.  He questions his actions to gain the throne.  He questions what is to come, namely the succession of his son, Prince Hal.  He battles physical ailments and old age.  It is a wonderful performance by Jeremy Irons that brings all of these conflicts home to the viewer.

Prince Hal faces the next chapter of his own life.  The performance by Tom Hiddleston is masterful.  Following the victory at Shrewsbury, he shows an increased maturity.  He seems to be growing weary of the antics of his former tavern mates, especially Falstaff.  The prospect of the throne waxes, while memories of past bawd wane.  In one scene, Hal and Poins spy on Falstaff from the rafters of the tavern, listening to Falstaff's typical bluster.  It is something one would have seen in I Henry IV.  When the two come crashing down into the room, Hal's response to Falstaff's wind (and Falstaff's subsequent reaction) are clear evidence that the relationship has changed.  In today's parlance, the "bromance" is falling apart.

Later, Hal comes home to the castle to visit his father.  He finds the King asleep in bed, the crown next to him on his pillow.  Hal takes the crown from the sleeping King and heads to the throne, trying out both symbols of regal power.  It is a cross between playacting and perhaps a bit of treasonous behavior--pretending to the throne before it is truly his.  The King awakens and comes crashing in on Hal, who is caught in the act.  (A rhyme to the aforementioned interaction between Hal and Falstaff?)  Hal is able to talk his way out of the incident.  The moment shared by father and son, with the elder passing on advice to the younger, is extremely touching.  (Consider, as contrast, the same interaction between Polonius and Laertes in Hamlet.  The latter encounter often is played without the same sense of sincerity; a directorial decision, perhaps, but Polonius' blatant scheming forces the matter.)  Henry and Hal's moment is brought to an abrupt end as Henry dies in his son's arms.  The Prince is now the King.

Where is Falstaff in all of this?  He's engaged in the same behavior that we found amusing in I Henry IV.  Now, though, it seems more tired and tiresome.  There are tavern misdeeds and general misbehavior.  There is the recruitment of Falstaff's army, if one can call it that, with prospective soldiers named Mouldy, Shadow, Bullcalf, Feeble, and Wart.  With names such as those, how could they possibly rise to honorable service?  Finally, there is the banishment of Falstaff.  When Sir John discovers that his old friend has taken the throne, he heads to the coronation ceremony, sure that he will have a place in the royal court.  He finds himself shunned, tossed aside, and, as the film ends, headed to jail under arrest.  It is a sad end to the rogue.  Could it have been any other result, though?  Has Falstaff so deluded himself that he thinks there could be a role for him in the new regime?  The final scene, a cut-to-black of Simon Russell Beale's Falstaff being led away, is a stark end to the character.

It also brings to an end Part III of The Hollow Crown and another Shakespearean Saturday.  I (and maybe a reader or two?) will look forward to the final chapter next week.

Saturday In The Recliner With Falstaff

Week Two of Shakespearean Saturdays continued the journey through The Hollow Crown.  Today's episode was Henry IV, Part I.  As with last weekend's edition, Richard II, this was a thoroughly enjoyable couple of hours marked by terrific performances and stunning cinematography.

Of the four Shakespearean works comprising The Hollow Crown, this is the one with which I am most familiar.  My first exposure with it goes back to senior year of high school.  One of the English courses that year was a short elective on Shakespeare.  I Henry IV was the history included in the three-play curriculum (one from each column--tragedy, comedy, and history).  It was my introduction to the character of Falstaff, one of The Bard's greatest creations.  It would not be my last scholastic interaction with Sir John, but more on that another time.

Reading a Shakespearean play leaves one to imagine the visual presentation--sets, costumes, casting.  I don't recall if we ever watched the play during that long-ago high school class.  This version of I Henry IV fits perfectly with Shakespeare's words.  Everything about it is entirely believable; the word suits the action and the action, the word.

Jeremy Irons stars in the title role.  He carries a very regal bearing in his performance as the king trying to hold his nation together while barely able to control his own family.  Tom Hiddleston as Hal plays the royal scalawag wonderfully.  At one moment the fun-loving tavern denizen while in the next leading his troops into battle, he captures the balanced personality of Hal.  Joe Armstrong as Hotspur certainly fits the name--a hot head constantly wound tightly.

Special recognition must go to Simon Russell Beale as Falstaff.  He portrays Falstaff grossly without grossly portraying him.  The costume design adds perfectly to Falstaff as a sack-loving mound of flesh.  A larger-than-life Shakespearean creation (in more than one sense), Beale nails the humanity of Falstaff without turning him into self-parody.  It is a joy to watch.

A highlight of the Shakespearean play becomes a highlight of the film:  the tavern scene in which Falstaff plays Hal while Hal plays King Henry.  Hiddleston's impression of Jeremy Irons is a delight.  Watching Falstaff as Hal, I could not help but be reminded of Chris Farley's "Fat Guy in a Little Coat" routine from the film Tommy Boy.  The similarity is striking!  Comedy aside, the scene illustrates the admiration Falstaff and Hal have for each other (which makes what is to come in the next chapter more saddening).

The camera work is well done throughout, especially at the climactic battle of Shrewsbury.  The grey color scheme helps to illustrate the cold enveloping the two armies.  Quick edits lend to the chaotic feel of the battle, although it is at times difficult to see what exactly is happening.  And the mud!  The battleground turns into a foul mess, and it is on full display as troops fall and roll around in the muck.

Early in the film (and play), Hal comments: 

"If all the year were playing holidays, / To sport would be as tedious as to work; / But when they seldom come, they wished-for come, / And nothing pleaseth but rare accidents" (I,ii,198-201).

This line finds special meaning in our present world.  Far too many people find themselves trapped in a perpetual, home-bound "holiday," and work (and sport, for that matter) may be what is wished for.  For others, work has become the daily horror with a holiday as a distant dream.  Hopefully the world will right itself sooner rather than later!

Halfway home in the trip through The Hollow Crown.  I'll look to be back at it next Saturday in the same recliner and with the same Sir John.

Shakespearean Saturday

Once upon a time your author purchased The Hollow Crown on DVD.  I forget exactly when that was; it may have been following a trip to the Stratford Festival to see Breath of Kings, their two-show condensed version of the Henriad (including Richard II).  The DVD set was intended as a rainy day venture.  As it happened, things got in the way (not enough rainy days) and the set was resigned to a shelf and forgotten.

With the situation in the world as it is these days, there is now plenty of free time.  I rediscovered the DVD set and decided there is no better time than the present.  So the plan, at least for the moment, is to spend a month of Saturdays with Shakespeare.  Today became Day 1--Richard II.

Viewing the film brought back memories of the trip to Stratford years ago.  I'll admit that the fine points of the Richard II portion of their production have largely passed.  Of the four plays, it is the one with which I was least familiar.  I guess that statement still holds true.  We never studied Richard II in school at any level, but the other three all appeared at some point in the educational progression.

Lack of formal background aside, the film was a delight to watch.  The acting is top-notch, especially Ben Whishaw as the tile monarch.  It is a complex performance.  Are you supposed to feel sorry for Richard, considering that he brought much of what happens upon himself?  When a "bad guy" dies (oops, spoiler), should you feel bad about it?  Is Henry Bolingbroke, portrayed by Rory Kinnear, really all that honorable?  It's hard to find a single character who is not at times sympathetic and at times repellent.  There, perhaps, is the genius of the work.  The lines between good and bad, dark and light, are incredibly muddied.  Characters wonderfully drawn became characters wonderfully portrayed by the cast.

The technical aspects of the film--set, costumes, cinematography--all resound as well.  While an on-stage production necessarily is constrained by the venue, the film is not.  Gorgeous castle sets are accompanied by terrific wide-screen camera work.  Very little suspension of disbelief is required to get into the mood of the piece; it feels entirely true to its historical period.

Richard II sets the stage quite well for what is to come:  three more films, three more Saturdays.  Hope to be back seven days from now with the next installment!

Something Rotten

One of the books on the "To Read" pile finally made it to the top of the stack and now rests in the "Have Read" pile.  The work, Something Rotten:  A Horatio Wilkes Mystery, by Alan Gratz, is a light, very enjoyable read.  Containing definite Hamlet influences, the book can be enjoyed on its own as well.

The story takes place in Denmark, Tennessee, a town polluted by its local industry, the Elsinore Paper plant.  Wittenberg Academy student Horatio Wilkes is in town, visiting his school friend Hamilton Prince.  Hamilton has had some recent family turmoil.  His father, Rex, has died and Hamilton's uncle, Claude, and mother, Trudy, have gotten married.  Do you get the picture?

One of the amusements that the novel provides the reader is a game of "Find the Allusion."  They are myriad.  Take the character names.  We meet Olivia, Roscoe & Gilbert, Paul Mendelsohn and his son Larry, Ford N. Branff.  Apparently the parents of Horatio had a bit of a Shakespearean fetish, naming their other children Desdemona, Rosalind, and Miranda.  Oh, and Horatio has a school chum named Juliet.  Admittedly it gets to be a stretch, but it's still good fun.

The prose, written in a noirish gumshoe fashion, at times elicits out-loud laughs.

• "Then again, lots of things take longer then his mother's remarriage.  Like toast."
• "[She's] definitely the kind of soccer mom the ref takes a second look at."
• "Despite swapping husbands faster than Superman changes clothes in a phone booth..."
• In response to "He would have wanted it that way," "Nobody knows what anybody really wants when they're alive, so what makes us think we know them any better when they're dead?"  (Not LOL funny, but quite resonant)
• "I tossed the bottle back to him and went and closed the door so Beavis and Butthead wouldn't go looking for a bathroom and overhear us."  (Pop culture reference!)
• "Personally, I'm a little tired of every author without a bright idea of his own putting a modern spin on a 'classic'..."  (Authorial self loathing?)

That last quote is a reference to the novel's version of The Mousetrap--a play entitled Rosencrantz & Guildenstern Are Dead.  This is where the plot of the story requires a Golden Gate-esque suspension of disbelief.  The identification of the murderer hinges upon a gimmick inserted into a performance of Tom Stoppard's creation.  The existence of that play, however, presupposes the existence of The Bard's antecedent to it.  Have none of the characters in Something Rotten noticed that their world is a blatant rip-off of Shakespeare's Hamlet?  Best not to think on that.  Take the story for what it is and run with it.

The copy of the book I purchased included a preview of the next book in the series:  Something Wicked.  On page one, the reader is introduced to characters named Mac and Beth.  Subtlety thy name is not Gratz.  I stopped right there.  Once was plenty in this canon.  See the last bulleted quote above.

In this world where daily existence really has become rotten of late, Alan Gratz's book is a pleasant diversion.  If you can find a copy at your local library (assuming that such are still in business when you read this), it's certainly worth a look!