A Click

- There was a click somewhen reading Cymbeline. I understood this play pretty good, at least it's been the most fun for me to read this semester.

- Recently we've returned from spring break, and I filled a couple hours of that time watching Rango. The main character, a Chameleon, is a playwriter. Though, mythologically, he's a Thespian. His character shows his improvisational abilities. Sometimes he's just awful at it, and it reminded me of A Midsummer Night's Dream in Act V. His innovative nuances and the other characters' connection to his addition makes it a story...of Thespians.

- I love the idea of being a Thespian; an actor who may inherit, employ, or become another person. Simple changes in ones appearance (may it be clothing, hairdo, fidgety hands, whatever) and/or persona potentially gives others the impression that they've not before met this newcomer. Newcomers are interesting. There are many newcomers in this play. Cloten, Iachimo, Imogen, Belarius, Guiderius, and Arviragus carry more than one role in this playwrite. In addition, tally three roles for Posthumous, there ‘bout. These people know how to act, even if when they don’t know they are acting.

- One of my favorite scenes, somewhen it may all clicked, is Act V, Scene V of Cymbeline. We’ll pick it up right when the king has found out that Cloten has been killed by Guiderius. A moment ago he was a hero, and now he’s the murderer of the heir apparent. I find this play more comic than tragic. The reader or audience figures that Guiderius (and Arviragus, same blood) are apparently pretty good dudes. It’s funny because King Cymbeline wanted Cloten to be king for an entire other sub-plot is talking to a purer heir apparent. (Think of Posthumous’s conundrum, too. Prior, convicted of murder and now a hero, yet he’s in disguise and and suppose to be in exile.) Guiderius is condemned by the King, but then people start speaking up. Imogen didn’t know that Cloten was the well-dressed headless man. Even when they actors are dead they never lose their method. Fidele’s no longer a boy, and now the three mountainmen find out that not only Fidele is a girl but also that she’s their sister. Posthumous has to open his mouth at this point, as well as Belarius. Now, it’s a happy ending as I see it.

Imogen can be with Posthumous, and they don’t even have to be top dogs. The king gets his wish because Posthumous doesn’t have to be king with Guiderius and Arviragus around. The forg-rotten Cloten is dead. I suppose the king did lose his pistol of a wife, but the king was stubborn and dumb at times. He probably wouldn’t allow Imogen to go out to a movie screening after 9:35. "But Daddy, I'll be home before midnight...No! I'm not going out with a boy!" Everything clicked. The characters are most definitely not the most enticing compared to some of the other plays (i.e. Lear, Falstaff, the Mechanical ensemble, Hamlet) because their dialogue is much easier to pin down. Nevertheless, the inherent and added characterizations along with revelations of true identities provide that mythological spin. Everyone is never who they appear. Things work out exactly as they're supposed to, in and if time.

Deer in the Headlights

Our source begins in Cymbeline, Act III, Scene IV. The context: Posthumous has been conspirin' and hatin' on Imogen and she's had enough. Posthumous is in exile and Imogen insists that Pisanio should carry out his orders and 'end her life'.

We pick up at about...line 89 or so...

Imogen-

...--Prithee, dispatch: The lamb entreats the butcher: where's thy knife? Thou art too slow to do thy master's bidding, When I desire it too.

Pisanio-

O gracious lady, Since I received command to do this business I have not slept one wink.

Imogen-

Do't and to bed then.

Pisanio-

I'll wake mine eyeballs out first.

Imogen-

Wherefore, then, Didst undertake it?...[yada yada yada]...Why has thou gone so far, To be unbent when thou hast ta'en thy stand, Th'elected deer before thee?

Here we have a deer in the headlights. This is what popped into my head after reading the referenced scene. Mythologically, Pisanio is that deer above. He's wide-eyed, petrified, and waiting for his break (brake, too! Sorry, pun). Though, ain't it strange for Imogen to declare a role reversal, that Pisanio is the butcher? She's really the one behind the wheel, yet she calls herself the lamb to be slaughtered. Usually, the deer's the one that gets a windshield to the face and bumper to the knees. The one with the car is protected and confident in their security, yet shaken from the recent occurrence. Imogen is smart because she's the driver even though she "offers" Pisanio (the butcher) the wheel, but she really knows that it'll just scamper off. Pisanio is no butcher, he's just a deer who hasn't blinked once since he decided to come into the road.

The scene continues, and Pisanio suggests that he bring back part of Imogen's automobile to his forest friends. Maybe part of the bumper or windshield with a little flesh attached will suffice for proof that the deed is done? Let's see what happens next...

Will the deer find some more friends to walk into the road with him? Will they find some horns and headlights, again?

The Sandlot's Flyting

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gVscCNZsYSY

My childhood recollection example of 'Flyting.' The clip popped to the top of my head because I must've seen this film over twenty/thirty times.

Only an insult like, "You play ball like a girl!" would be best effective in the correct context. A childish and athletically competitive nature. Something so simply insulting turns the conversation into a heated status establishing contest. The rivals' backyard quarrel becomes hyperbolic in context. A pin prick can cause big conflict as scribble can become a quibble. It takes one wrong button for self-destruction.

A quick All's Well

Recently there's been this trend throughout our classes with this idea of the female getting rejected by the male. I like to believe that an 18th century, British short story titled Fantomina was derived from some Shakespearean scripture. Eliza Haywood wrote this story of an unnamed girl who was probably of a higher class, and she becomes infinitely infatuated with Beauplaisir, the original translation meaning something along the lines of "good pleasure." Yada, yada, yada. She gets rejected a number of times, but every time (four times in forty pages) she's rejected she then morphs herself into another seductress. So time goes on and things get out of hand and then...all's well that ends well? I thought Haywood's story was humorous for it's sensual inscriptions (pornographic genre?) though the ending hits on a lower note. Nevertheless it seems that Haywood's female agent-of-a-character could live as anyone and get anything she wanted, emphasizing the inherent stupidity of the male figure (more specifically, the meat-head, male archetype). In respect for the story it's fair lump all men into this general male character, I understand how it goes.

Then I got to thinking, soon after we eventually read All's Well..., that there is something going on here. Fantomina and Helena are like totally the same person, yeah. Totally, though the difference is that Helena is part of an ensemble (compared to the character-study nature of Fantomina), but they still have the similar bag of tricks. The 'bed trick' for example, the usage of light. Both characters understand that guys are stupid. This is how guys think in literary terms (to some extent [work with me here]):

I want to see this chick's face. She's probably smokin'. Wait, she wants lights off? Well okay, as long as I get my end's meat. Was that inappropriate to call a girl a piece of meat? No, as long as I care for her. Come to me, Diana......yada, yada, yada.......Scene.

Then we come to the part where we find out Mr. Beauplaisir, I mean Bertram, has been duped. Bertram's initial enigmatic epistle had become his fate because All's Well That Ends Well. His letter predicted the perfect happy ending, but it's the females which take over in these stories. Mr. Beauplaisir falls for the mask-followed-the-no-lights trick by the last of Fantomina's aliases. It's textbook. But the textbook must derive from something. Haywood's character grabbed a little flavor from All's Well's witty and wild Helena (who swapped spots with Diana).

Really, who isn't Shakespeare? He writes and becomes characters within characters within characters and the latter.

King Lear Videos and Books on Tape

I have two videos here. The first is an English play, the second an early seventies Russian film adaptation.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tURpNRYakMk

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1_MKXo-AOCk&feature=player_detailpage

First of all, the Fool is my favorite character in this part of the play because he is the voice of reason to the King. The Russian rendition got it right because it was presented as a sitcom, with the laugh track and whatnot. It's ironic and funny that Lear is a believer in the Fool. I should note, I had 'read,' more or less, this back in high school but the details are foggy. Our teacher Mr. McMan had a hell of a sense of humor though. I remember him explaining to the class how he thought Shakespeare's writing was hilarious. I chuckle when I recall how much tragedy the play has. It is a tragedy, right? I suppose not at this point in the play in Act 1 Scene 4.

Secondly, this past weekend I took a trip out to see some friends in Spokane. Since I had to get some homework done on the way back, and I thought that listening to King Lear's book-on-tape would fill the six hour drive nicely. A friend and I discussed how the experience is different when you're listening to a performance as opposed to reading the text. Technically it's the same material, but there's an interpretation variation. You're going to focus on different things in a movie as opposed to a book. Or say a stage play versus a stand-up comic. You're going to learn and absorb things, but you need the right traction. Shakespeare's books/performances on tape is a different experience than reading.

Lastly, in each of these clips my favorite part of the book on tape was cut out of the clips' scripts.

Fool - Mark it, nuncle; Have more than thou showest, Speak less than thou knowest, Lend less than thou owest, Ride more than thou goest, Learn more than thou trowest, Set less than thou throwest, Leave thy drink and thy whore, And keep in-a-door, And thou shalt have more, Than two tens to a score.

I think that when I was in the car, through snowstorms and stars, driving along them mountain passes, through passing lanes of traffic; I think I just liked his flow. Cruising and flowing, no snoozin' and no slowin'. The book on tape production was fantastic, but the hardest part was keeping up with who was talking. I found out later that the Fool said the line above, but in the car it didn't matter much.

Spoken word is arguably more powerful than writing. Effective? Affective? That's what my friend and I debated. Should we prefer one over the other? He was always the book guy and I was a movie guy growing up. Which experience is more rich? In conclusion, there was no conclusion to the conversation.