The Taming of the Shrew and Measure for Measure: two of a kind?

Posted on February 1, 2012 by Sylvia Morris

Measure for Measure at the Shakespeare Theatre, Washington DC

The Royal Shakespeare Company is currently offering audiences the chance to see both The Taming of the Shrew and Measure for Measure back to back. These plays are unlikely bedfellows, but they have in fact a lot in common.

 Both plays put a young woman centre stage, Kate and Isabella, neither of whom is going to fit in with the usual pattern of courtship, marriage and motherhood. There is no older woman to support either girl, so they are outnumbered and dominated by men.  The men who surround them have trouble knowing how to deal with these two unusual women.

 Measure for Measure shows us the extremes of female behaviour from the nuns Isabella intends to join, to the prostitutes working for the brothel-keeper Mistress Overdone. Juliet and Mariana are the two women who both expected to follow the path of marriage, but are prevented from doing so, and both are punished, though guiltless of anything you could seriously call a crime.

 In The Taming of the Shrew the women are a puzzle to the men who think they control them. Katherina refuses to play the game that would make her a suitable wife, while her younger sister Bianca relishes it, fully aware she’s playing a role until she has the ring on her finger. There’s no indication that Kate does not want to marry, in fact she makes it clear that she is jealous of Bianca’s betrothal.
She is your treasure, she must have a husband;
I must dance bare-foot on her wedding day,
And for your love to her, lead apes in hell. 

Does the absence of a mother figure itself create the possibility for drama?

The plays share concerns about restraint, imprisonment and justice. It’s right there in the title of Measure for Measure, and during the play Shakespeare shows us the formal workings of justice: a court of law, the prison where inmates are executed. Programme covers often feature the scales of justice. Juliet is incarcerated, then sent away to have her baby, Mariana lives in an inaccessible moated grange, and Isabella is about to enter the closed world of the convent.

The Taming of the Shrew, RSC 1978

The Taming of the Shrew is often seen as a battleground in which Petruchio seems to be in control. The programme cover for the 1978 RSC production, directed by Michael Bogdanov, shows the standing figure of a dominant man holding a whip, in front of a metal fence behind which is the weeping figure of a woman. This production was put on at the height of the Women’s Liberation movement, the implication being that Kate is imprisoned and abused by her husband. Or does she impose the imprisonment on herself? You might say that Petruchio himself is a victim of his own behaviour, and in one way or another, all the characters are subject to the restraint of their conventional learned behaviours.

 The third shared theme is disguise. Shakespeare often makes his characters put on a disguise, and it’s a satisfying dramatic device. In Measure for Measure, the duke disguises himself as a friar, the body of Ragozine stands in for Claudio’s, Mariana pretends to be Isabella to carry out the bed trick. Angelo’s supposed virtue is itself a kind of disguise, his real nature taking him completely by surprise. When Isabella threatens to reveal him he knows his reputation will protect him:
My unsoil’d name, the austereness of my life,
My vouch against you, and my place i’the stage,
Will so your accusation overweigh,
That you shall stifle in your own report…
Say what you can, my false o’erweighs your true. 

The Taming of the Shrew has disguise at its heart from the word go. In the induction the beggar Christopher Sly is dressed up as a Lord and made to believe he is one. Tranio and Lucientio, servant and master, exchange clothes and identities. Bianca pretends to be obedient to attract suitors, and a substitute Vincentio is needed for her clandestine marriage. One of the sources of the play is another play called Supposes, in which a suppose is “nothing else but a mistaking or imagination of one thing for another”. Both Kate and Petruchio are supposed to be other than they really are. Kate is misunderstood by her father, so she adopts the disguise of a shrew. Petruchio needs to establish himself as the head of his family, so he adopts the disguise of a bully to cover his insecurity.  The good thing about a disguise is that it gives you something to hide behind as well as giving you the freedom to see through other people’s disguises.

 Carol Rutter’s book Clamorous Voices contains discussions between five Shakespearean actresses who have played a range of parts including Kate and Isabella, and I recommend it for its stimulating insights on these two plays.

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Health and illness in Shakespeare

Posted on January 30, 2012 by Sylvia Morris

An Elizabethan doctor at work

Shakespeare’s interest in all things medical is well known, and Sujata Iyengar’s recent book Shakespeare’s medical language – a dictionary, published by Continuum, is a successful addition to the literature on the subject, both a fascinating read and a valuable reference work.

 She casts her net wide, exploring Shakespeare’s own references to medical matters, the work of medical practitioners, symptoms, cures, and remedies, and the development of theoretical medicine.

 Part glossary, part encyclopaedia, the book’s written in an easy to follow style, cross-referencing words with their own entries printed in bold, encouraging the reader to flip around the book. Most entries are in three parts: a medical description of the subject, Shakespeare’s references to it, and contemporary sources.

 It’s easy to get distracted by some of the fascinating snippets of information. Did you know, for instance, the “galled goose of Winchester” at the end of Troilus and Cressida, is a reference to prostitutes in Southwark?

Galen and Hippocrates, from a 12th century mural

 No matter how good the content, books can be let down by poor finding aids, such as inadequate or non-existent indexes (you can tell I’m a librarian). This one contains not just an index, a feature many would think unnecessary in a dictionary, and extensive bibliographies, but a list of medical terms. The concise introduction is genuinely useful and the book includes a clear explanation of the difference between Galen’s popular theory of the four humours using herbal remedies and bleeding as against Paracelsus’s more modern ideas about germs as external sources of infection and chemical medicines as cures. Shakespeare shows an awareness of both men and their theories.

You could use the book as a glossary as you read a play: the entry on falling-sickness, for instance, mentioned in Julius Caesar, links the word with others used by Shakespeare: apoplexy, dizziness and palsy. It then directs you to three pages on epilepsy, lists other plays including sufferers (Othello and Macbeth), and quotes the description of Julius Caesar’s epileptic fit:
         when the fit was on him, I did mark
How he did shake: ‘tis true, this god did shake;
His coward lips did from their colour fly,
And this same eye whose bend doth awe the world
Did lose his lustre: I did hear him groan. 

One of the first entries I saw when I opened the book was “untimely ripp’d”, the term which Macduff uses to describe his caesarean birth, and which, the book reminds us, also applies to Posthumus in Cymbeline.

Pericles and Thaisa, from the Seattle Shakespeare Festival production

Reading the book, I was struck by the large number of references to childbirth in Shakespeare. Iyengar makes it easy to link these together, whether they are references to parts of the body, like breasts and wombs, to abortions, births and child-beds and to wet-nurses, midwives and milk. Some references are to actual births: “A terrible child-bed hast thou had, my dear” says Pericles when he believes his wife to have died in labour during a storm at sea. Also included, though, are allusive references to birth. King Lear’s curse on his daughter Goneril wishes her sterile, and in Julius Caesar, Messala mourns Cassius’s death, in which, believing the battle to be lost, he asked his friend to kill him. Personified as error, this mistake is likened to a tragic childbirth.
O hateful error, melancholy’s child,
Why doest thou show to the apt thoughts of men
The things that are not? O error, soon conceived,
Thou never comest unto a happy birth,
But kill’st the mother that engender’d thee! 

Starting from Shakespeare’s words, moving from them towards modern definitions, has many advantages. Iyengar doesn’t attempt to link his every mention of illness to a specific modern one, nor does she assume that Shakespeare’s use of medical terms is consistent. Importantly, there is no patronising assumption that twenty-first century western medicine, which separates body and spirit, has all the answers. We may still have much to learn from less sophisticated societies, including Shakespeare’s. 

Full of interesting content and clearly organised, this book will easily earn its place on my bookshelves.

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How chances it they travel? Players in Stratford-upon-Avon

Posted on January 27, 2012 by Sylvia Morris

Stratford's Guild Hall in 1830

Historian Dr Robert Bearman has contributed today’s post, which revolves around a chance discovery which he made recently in the Shakespeare Centre Library and Archive.

Those wishing to know more about Shakespeare’s life may fantasise about making a major archival discovery but the fact is that very little has been added to the direct documentary record since the discovery over a hundred years ago of Shakespeare’s involvement in the Bellot/Mountjoy case. So we have to be satisfied instead with the occasional emergence of those slivers of evidence which throw a little more light on what was going on around him. This was my feeling when I recently stumbled more or less by chance on the names of three travelling companies of players who visited Stratfordin the summer of 1597, the year Shakespeare bought New Place. These visits were already on record in outline form and have been known about for some time: for Stratford’s chamberlain, in his accounts for that year, had included a payment of 19s 4d to reimburse the bailiff, Abraham Sturley for money he had laid out ‘for foure companyes of players’. But on the back of a bill (still extant in the borough archives) which formed another item in the accounts, I found that Sturley had jotted down further details of these playing companies, principally ‘the Queens plairs’, who were given 10 shillings on 16 and 17 July. He then adds, more scruffily and in a different ink, the names of two other troupes, ‘Therle of Darbies’ and ‘mi Ld Ogles’, though not specifying the payments received. Given that the Queen’s Men were rewarded with two payments totalling 10 shillings, perhaps the total of 19s 4d was the outlay for four performances, rather than to ‘four companyes’.

I cannot, in fact, claim this to be an entirely new discovery. Back in 1923, E.K. Chambers, in his English Stage, refers to these visits by the Queen’s Players and the Derby’s Men (though not Lord Ogle’s) but misdated them and failed to name his source. As a result they have since gone unnoticed and it was therefore still a matter of some satisfaction to be able to authenticate and amplify what had become virtual hearsay and to pass the relevant data on to the REED project.

Nobody knows more about the records of Stratford-upon-Avon in Shakespeare’s time than Dr Bearman, and I’m grateful to him for sharing his find with this blog.

 Information about the activities of acting companies is being brought together by the Records of Early English Drama (REED) project mentioned by Dr Bearman, headed by the University of Toronto. Since 1975 contributors have undertaken the massive job of searching for these elusive records. 27 volumes have now been published, many of which are searchable online through the Patrons and Performances website.

Although the records are only partial, it’s exciting to be able to get a sense of where companies toured to: theatrical action most definitely didn’t only happen in London.

In Hamlet, much of the plot turns on “the tragedians of the city” who visit Elsinore “to offer you service”. Hamlet describes the touring company:
He that plays the king shall be welcome :the adventurous knight shall use his foil and target; the lover shall not sigh gratis; the humorous man shall end his part in peace; the clown shall makes those laugh whose lungs are tickly o’th’sere; and the lady shall say her mind freely.

Coventry's Guild Hall

On the REED database searches can be made by company or venue, and venues can be shown on a map. The records for Coventry, the nearest important city to Stratford, are already online. In fact it appears that all three of the companies that appeared in Stratford in 1597 also appeared in Coventry, so perhaps they took in Stratford around the same time. Coventry’s magnificent Guild Hall still stands, though remodelled and re-roofed, and we can be pretty certain that Shakespeare performed there during his company’s visit in 1603. This wonderful resource will become even more useful as records are added.

The records Dr Bearman has rediscovered are tantalising: how much else is there still waiting to be found scribbled on the back of another document?

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Making the majestic clear? Updating Shakespeare for the 21st century

Posted on January 25, 2012 by Sylvia Morris

So what is more important: clarity of meaning, or poetry? Mike LoMonico recently wrote a post for the Folger Shakespeare Library’s Education blog challenging the often-voiced opinion that Shakespeare’s plays are now so difficult to understand that they should be translated. The Folger’s answer to suggestions that people should use modern versions is  “IF YOU’RE NOT GOING TO USE SHAKESPEARE’S WORDS, DON’T DO SHAKESPEARE.”

Nobody would suggest that Shakespeare’s work is easy: no matter how hard you try, there will be some bits that defeat you: editors of scholarly editions spend years on a single play but still never reach a consensus over everything. David and Ben Crystal are experts who run a website, Shakespeare’s Words, which includes a glossary, full text and notes. Part of the site, the Portal, also includes some recordings of Shakespeare in OP (Original Pronunciation), which are great fun.

The first lines of the King James bible

David Edgar is one of our greatest living playwrights who has both written new plays and adapted existing works for the RSC. No wonder he is so intrigued by the story of the King James bible. His play Written on the Heart is less the story of how the translation was made than an examination of the dilemmas of the people involved. People died for the cause of creating a bible in English for ordinary people to read instead of being told what the scriptures meant by priests. And for much of the play the translators wrestle with the choice of individual words. The devil was literally in the detail.

 The first translator of the bible into English, William Tyndale, used everyday speech, “the language of the ploughboy”, and in the play he challenges (from beyond the grave) the decision of the King James Bible translators to make the word of God both grand and poetic. He accuses the translators of sacrificing “the clear to the majestic”, and “sacrificing the meaning to the music”. Launcelot Andrewes’ response is that the translation is intended “to make the majestic clear”.  

 Modernisers of Shakespeare like No Sweat Shakespeare and No Fear Shakespeare have the same aim. No Sweat Shakespeare creates ebook versions of some of Shakespeare’s plays and contains other features designed to make Shakespeare fun.  No Fear Shakespeare publishes text versions. It’s a difficult and complex job. Here are a couple of lines from the balcony scene in Romeo and Juliet with the corresponding line from No Fear Shakespeare:

Shakespeare: Oh, she doth teach the torches to burn bright!
No Fear: Oh, she shows the torches how to burn bright!
Shakespeare: It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night
No Fear: She stands out against the darkness.

Stephen Boxer as Tyndale, Oliver Ford Davies as Launcelot Andrewes

For Tyndale, the music of the word of God was unimportant compared with the meaning. In Shakespeare, though, the music of the verse has its own importance. I wouldn’t say it’s more important than the meaning, but sometimes you can let the meaning take a back seat and enjoy the poetry. I’ve written before about some of my favourite performances of Shakespeare’s speeches and how important it is to hear Shakespeare spoken well.

 But it’s also important to be fair to modernised versions. They are created to help students get over the difficult hurdle which Shakespeare’s language can present, and they have their place. They are meant to enhance the experience of reading Shakespeare’s original, not to replace it.

 The King James bible owes much to Tyndale’s translation. But it, like Shakespeare’s work, has stood the test of time not least because of the beauty of its poetic language and phrasing.

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The Chinese New Year: looking forward to the year of the dragon

Posted on January 22, 2012 by Sylvia Morris

Celebrations for the Chinese New Year, beginning on 23 January, are in full swing, and over one sixth of the world’s population will be marking the event. There’s even more excitement than usual as this is to be the most favourable year of the twelve, the Year of the Dragon.

 In China, dragons are believed to be helpful, friendly creatures. They bring fortune, luck and power, and are associated with the colour gold, spring, and life-giving rain.

 By contrast, dragons in Western folklore have always been viewed as fire-breathing monsters. Ferocious dragons are to be found in Greek mythology and Icelandic sagas alike. Topsell’s The History of Four-footed Beasts and The History of Serpents were both published in the early 1600s and are still an important guide to the  Jacobean mindset. Their popularity was such that a combined edition was published in 1658. These books are wonderful guides to both real and legendary animals, and include a whole section on different kinds of dragons. Dragons are reportedly seen before disasters, particularly fires and pestilence. But for Topsell they are not malevolent creatures, being motivated by hunger:

Winged dragon from Topsell

if Dragons finde not food enough to satisfie their hunger, then they hide themselves until the people be returned from the market, or the heard-men bring home their flocks, and upon a sudden they devour either Men or Besasts, which come first to their mouths: then they go again and hide themselves in their dens and hollow Caves of the earth.

 Dragons have particular significance in England where it is the monster killed by country’s patron saint, Saint George. St George was originally a saint from the Middle East, a soldier saint adopted by the crusaders from Western Europe in the eleventh century. St George’s dragon, unlike Topsell’s, is a symbol of any evil or fearsome aggression, and has suited England’s military ambitions well over the centuries.

 In King John Shakespeare refers to “Saint George, that swing’d the dragon”, and St George’s Day, 23rd April, is also traditionally celebrated as Shakespeare’s Birthday. Stratford has a dragon of its own, part of the stained glass memorial window on the landing in the original Shakespeare Memorial Theatre, the only part of the building that escaped the 1926 fire. The inscription beneath the figures tells us it was erected in memory of members of the Benson acting company who lost their lives in the 1914-18 war. The window shows the mounted figure of St George, spearing the dragon. The maiden being defended is the small figure in blue on the left and, on the right, making the connection with Shakespeare, is a representation of Shakespeare’s Birthplace. If anyone’s interested in seeing this window in more detail, I’m posting several images of it on my Flickr page.

Where Shakespeare refers to dragons, it’s the creature’s aggressiveness that he fixes on: “Come not between the dragon and his wrath” says King Lear when Kent tries to intervene to stop Lear banishing his daughter. And Coriolanus likens himself to a “lonely dragon”.

This year, China will be bringing its dragons to the UK as part of the Cultural Olympiad. The Globe to Globe Festival in London is staging 37 Shakespeare plays in 37 languages, and there are to be two Chinese productions, Richard III in Mandarin by the National Theatre of China, 28-29 April and Titus Andronicus in Cantonese by the Hong Kong Arts Festival 3-4 May. Since the ending of the Cultural Revolution China has shown much interest in Shakespeare, the first Chinese Shakespeare Festival being held in 1986. And in the year of the Dragon, that symbol of the emperor and the supreme holy animal, their visit is to be greatly welcomed. This will be the first visit to the UK of the Chinese National Theatre, an opportunity for them to represent the new face of Chinese theatre. 

Let’s hope that the good fortune and power of the Dragon will bring joy onto the stage of the Globe Theatre for their Shakespeare Festival.

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Ralph Fiennes as Coriolanus: noble warrior or boy of tears?

Posted on January 20, 2012 by Sylvia Morris

The new film version of Coriolanus, directed by and starring Ralph Fiennes has been  awaited impatiently for months. We’ve been tantalised by stills, by trailers and interviews with the stars, and now it’s finally on release. 

It’s Fiennes’ first attempt at directing what is surprisingly the first feature film made of Shakespeare’s most political play. It’s a film which Fiennes, always a thoughtful actor, has clearly been planning for years, his approach to it influenced by his many film roles over the past two decades. 

Ralph Fiennes as Henry VI and Penny Downie as Queen Margaret in The Plantagenets, RSC 1988

 Fiennes’ professional involvement with Shakespeare began early: he played Romeo at the Regents’ Park Open Air Theatre before being snapped up by the RSC to play three varied parts: Henry VI in Adrian Noble’s conflation The Plantagenets, Lewis the Dauphin in Deborah Warner’s small-scale production of King John, and Claudio in Much Ado About Nothing, all in 1988. What struck me immediately was the ease with which he spoke Shakespeare’s words, the power of his voice, and a slightly unapproachable quality which served him well in all three productions. For my money he was best in King John, where he was able to display the arrogance which he uses again in Coriolanus. A diplomatic marriage is arranged between himself and the Lady Blanche. On their first meeting he says:
                        In her eye I find
A wonder, or a wondrous miracle,
The shadow of myself formed in her eye; …
I do protest I never loved myself
Till now infixed I beheld myself
Drawn in the flattering table of her eye.

 After a season in London with the company he returned again to Stratford where he played another three roles which stretched him further: Troilus in Troilus and Cressida, Berowne in Love’s Labour’s Lost, and Edmund in King Lear. Here he had to be by turns an ardent and disappointed lover, an ironic commentator and joker, and an out and out villain. While not a natural comedian he revelled in the verbal complexity of Love’s Labour’s Lost and used his natural charm to be successful in the role. Troilus isn’t the most satisfying role, but in Sam Mendes’ Troilus and Cressida he played the young lover convincingly. Edmund in King Lear is confident, ruthless, and cold, attributes also to be found in Coriolanus.

 These years with the RSC turned Fiennes into a star, and it was not long before he played the role of Hamlet at the Almeida, and moved into film work with Schindler’s List and others. In recent years he’s become best known for playing the noseless Voldemort in the Harry Potter films, but he has continued to work in Shakespeare on stage.

As Mark Antony in Julius Caesar at the Barbican Theatre, 2005

I last saw him in Deborah Warner’s production of Julius Caesar at the Barbican in 2005, among a star-studded cast including John Shrapnel as Caesar, Simon Russell Beale as Cassius, Anton Lesser as Brutus and Fiennes as Mark Antony. For me Fiennes failed to capture the pleasure-loving side of Antony, but as Michael Billington said, “what he does brings out strongly is the man’s cold-heartedness as he sanctions senatorial deaths with a few flicks on his laptop.”.

His most recent Shakespeare on stage was Trevor Nunn’s production of The Tempest in London in 2011, by which time he had already filmed Coriolanus. In his review Michael Coveney likened him to John Gielgud, the greatest Prospero of his day. Fiennes was “virile and determined”, and, like Gielgud “speaks the verse so naturally and beautifully”.

His performance as Coriolanus has been described as “mesmerising”, and “a bruising, brutal presence”. In the end, though, he’s a man who buckles under emotional pressure. Aufidius accuses him of “Breaking his oath and resolution like a twist of rotten silk” and being a “boy of tears”.

Looking at the Shakespearean roles Fiennes has taken during his career it’s easy to see how this one was a part he was waiting to take, while the film also hits the mark as a twenty-first century action movie.

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Barren winter and the seasons’ difference

Posted on January 18, 2012 by Sylvia Morris

This magnificent tree grows in the gardens between the theatre and the church, next to the river

Until a few days ago it looked as if we were getting the “hot January” which Beatrice claims to be so unlikely, the weather has been so mild.  On a country walk near Stratford last week we cast off scarves and jackets, sat drinking coffee alfresco on the village green, and disturbed skylarks that rose singing from their field into the blue sky. Then at the weekend came some more typical winter weather: sharp frosts, but bright, sunny days, warm in the sunshine. No wonder we’re seeing green shoots in gardens and fields and snowdrops already in flower.

 This time of year has a beauty all of its own. Now all the leaves have blown off the trees the delicacy of twigs and branches are on display. You can see the buds where the new leaves will break. The heaviness of summer and lushness of autumn are gone and craggy trunk and muscular branches reach to the sky or twist round in strange shapes.

Twigs are often brilliantly coloured in shades of orange or purple.

 The change of the seasons is something that Shakespeare cherished about the English countryside, though “chiding autumn” and “angry winter” were to be endured rather than enjoyed. In Henry VI Part 2, Duke Humphrey sees his wife’s humiliation as part of the natural cycle of fortune just like the turning of the year.
Thus sometimes hath the brightest day a cloud,
And after summer evermore succeeds
Barren winter, with his wrathful nipping cold;
So cares and joys abound, as seasons fleet.

In Shakespeare’s most famous description of the changing seasons Titania blames her arguments with Oberon for the unseasonable weather in which “hoary-headed frosts fall in the fresh lap of the crimson rose”.                   

The song of the Owl and the Cuckoo that closes Love’s Labour’s Lost is a reminder of the hardships of winter for country dwellers in Shakespeare’s time, human and animal. Here’s one of the verses:

Trees at Slimbridge, on the Severn estuary

When icicles hang by the wall,
And Dick the shepherd blows his nail,
And Tom bears logs into the hall,
And milk comes frozen home in pail,
When blood is nipped, and ways be foul,
Then nightly sings the staring owl, “Tu-whit,
Tu-who!” a merry note,
While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.

So far we’ve been lucky enough to avoid the “birth of trembling winter” while enjoying the changing seasons. It’s a bit too soon, though, to think that spring is on its way.

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Ralph Fiennes’ Coriolanus and Shakespeare on screen

Posted on January 16, 2012 by Sylvia Morris

Shakespeare-lovers are eagerly awaiting the release of the film of Coriolanus directed by and starring Ralph Fiennes. Fiennes may be better known to film audiences as Voldemort in the Harry Potter films, but theatre audiences know that his Shakespeare credentials are top-notch and have their fingers crossed that he has not sacrificed too many of Shakespeare’s words. The trailers and stills show that it uses every trick in the box of the action movie. It’s Shakespeare’s most political play, and parallels with the 2011 toppling of dictatorships that became known as the Arab spring will be inevitable. Vanessa Redgrave, who plays the mother of Coriolanus, Volumnia, has said that the film is about what happens when the military code of honour comes into contact with the political world. In her words, “politicians are scoundrels”.

 Modern film-making has reached a level of sophistication in which it can now be difficult to tell the difference between movies and the real battle situations as reported on the TV news. I’ve just been looking at a blog, Screenplays, written by John Wyver, which includes posts on the early days of television, showing us how much Shakespeare on screen has changed. 

 

Cymbeline 1956

This blog compares presentation of scenes from Shakespeare’s play Cymbeline in 1937 and 1956. These were based on stage productions of the play currently inLondon, the first at the Embassy Theatre, the second at the Old Vic. Both were transmitted live, from Alexandra Palace and Lime Grove, and there is no recording of either. Fortunately the shooting scripts have been preserved which enable researchers to understand how the scenes were shot using a number of cameras.In 1937 BBC TV was only a year old, so transmitting scenes from a Shakespeare play must have been a real experiment. By 1956 cameras could both move and zoom, and in addition could use a crane to get a wider range of shots.

 Both versions shot the scene where Iachimo and Imogen meet, followed by the scene in which Iachimo invades Imogen’s bedroom as she sleeps.  I’m sure there were several factors in making this choice. The scenes feature only a few people, and are fairly static. The bedroom scene would be relatively easy to stage and light. But also they are scenes charged with emotion, and Iachimo’s language is some of Shakespeare’s most erotic:
Had I this cheek
To bathe my lips upon: this hand, whose touch
Whose every touch would force the feeler’s soul
To th’oath of loyalty: this object which
Takes prisoner the wild motion of my eye…

 The second is a night-time scene which calls out for the intimacy of close-ups. In fact I’m quite surprised that they chose to beam it into the living rooms of unsuspecting viewers since it’s a voyeuristic scene, the sense of violation palpable as Iachimo watches Imogen as she sleeps, pulling back the sheet that covers her and describing her naked body. Here’s part of his speech:
How bravely thou becom’st thy bed! Fresh lily!
And whiter than the sheets! That I might touch!
But kiss, one kiss! Rubies unparagon’d,
How dearly they do’t!

 Another Screenplays blog looks at the first Shakespeare outside broadcast of the 1939 Phoenix Theatre production of Twelfth Night.  This review by Grace Wyndham Goldie for the Listener is reminiscent of the experience of researchers watching the simple video recordings made by many contemporary theatre companies of their productions:
But the play, seen in camera shots, made very little effect as a whole. How could it? For it was produced for a huge angle of vision, as wide as the theatre’s proscenium arch and it was seen by way of a tiny angle of vision, one no larger than the lens of a television camera.

Productions now being beamed live into cinemas combine the freshness of the live performance with some of the sophistication of the movie. The new film of Coriolanus will owe much more to the modern action movie than to the world of the theatre. Would Shakespeare approve? This might depend on how his writing is handled, and how much of it has been sacrificed to the technical wizardry of modern movie-making. We’ll all be able to make up our own minds when it goes on general release on 20 January.

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Innovating in Birmingham: Barry Jackson and modern dress Shakespeare

Posted on January 13, 2012 by Sylvia Morris

Barry Jackson's Birmingham Repertory Theatre

This week it’s been confirmed that a new and vastly expensive high speed rail link between Birmingham and London is to go ahead. Known as High Speed 2, or HS2, it’s expected to open in 2026, and a second phase, extending to Leeds and Manchester, will open in 2032-3. The journey time from Birmingham to London will be reduced to 49 minutes from the current 72, and Birmingham will become a national hub for rail travel as it is for road travel.

 As well as offering improvements for those involved in commerce and industry, it’s hoped that there will be cultural benefits. Birmingham is England’s second city, but in spite of successes such as Symphony Hall, the best concert hall in the country, Birmingham isn’t taken very seriously as a cultural centre. The city’s history is dominated by its industrial heritage. The new Library of Birmingham due to open in 2013 will hopefully help to establish the city’s reputation in the arts, not least by creating a direct physical connection to the city’s Repertory Theatre.

 On Tuesday Claire Cochrane from the University of Worcester talked to the Shakespeare Club in Stratford-upon-Avon about one of the high points in Birmingham’s cultural history, the groundbreaking work done in the first half of the twentieth century by Barry Jackson.

 Jackson was born in 1879, inheriting his love of Shakespeare and theatre from his wealthy merchant father. The directors William Poel and Edward Gordon Craig were major influences on him, and Jackson spent eighteen months in Europe before being articled to a firm of architects back in Birmingham. He poured his own money into the theatre, founding the amateur company the Pilgrim Players, then in 1913 building the Birmingham Repertory Theatre.

 The building was radical in design, shaped like a shoebox with most of its seats in a single steep bank directly facing the stage. With a seating capacity of less than 500, it was never intended to be a theatre for the people, but Jackson’s money allowed experimentation that none of the commercial theatres in either Birmingham or London would have been able to attempt.  

 

Cymbeline at Birmingham Rep 1923

The Birmingham Rep became famous for innovation: in 1923 it staged the first major production of Shakespeare in modern dress, Cymbeline, and premiered many new plays including Bernard Shaw’s Back to Methuselah. Several other modern-dress productions followed, the best-known being Hamlet in 1925, opening in London before being performed in Birmingham. The theatre became famous for what was known as “Shakespeare in plus fours”, plays receiving this treatment including Macbeth and The Taming of the Shrew. Jackson worked closely with a small team: H K Ayliff was his main director and Paul Shelving designed hundreds of productions. The Rep became famous for giving talented young actors their first breaks: Laurence Olivier, Ralph Richardson and John Gielgud all worked there in this period, later followed by Paul Scofield, Albert Finney and Derek Jacobi, and the director Peter Brook.

 Barry Jackson was knighted in 1925 for his services to the theatre, but his career was by no means over. He led the Shakespeare Memorial Theatre in Stratford-upon-Avon for two seasons in the late 1940s, and never lost contact with the Birmingham Rep which he had made one of the most famous theatres in the world. He died in 1961.

 Jackson’s Rep was superseded in 1971 by the opening of a larger, more modern building. Ironically that building is now being remodelled as part of the new Birmingham Library project and the Old Rep, now approaching its centenary, is being used again. By chance it’s reminded Brummies of the city’s famous theatrical tradition at just the time when Birmingham is trying to re-establish its cultural credentials.

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How to tame your falcon – and your wife

Posted on January 10, 2012 by Sylvia Morris

A few days ago I was in a car travelling along a main road near Stratford-upon-Avon when a bird shot across the road then continued to fly alongside it at the bottom of the hedgerow, at the same speed as the car, perhaps 40mph. It was a real Earthflight moment without the need for microlites, gliders or silent drones. This magical view of the bird in flight went on for about 10 seconds, and was all the more special because it was a wild male sparrowhawk.

 Sparrowhawks are some of our smallest and commonest birds of prey. It’s some years now since I had another encounter with a female sparrowhawk which was found, dead, but quite perfect, at the bottom of our suburban garden. It had probably broken its neck while chasing a small garden bird. It was a rare privilege to be able to see it close up: the deadliness of its long, sharp talons and curved beak, the barred wing feathers which act as camouflage in woodland where the birds normally hunt.

 These birds were common in Shakespeare’s day when like other birds of prey, they were kept for hunting. Hawking was a popular pastime, and different birds were flown by different ranks in society. The following list in the Boke of St Albans, dating from around 1486 is probably not meant to be taken literally, but suggests the suitability of birds for people of all ranks from rulers right down to knaves.
An eagle for an Emperor, a gyrfalcon for a King,
a peregrine for a prince, a saker for a knight,
a Merlin for a Lady, a goshawk for a yeoman,
a sparrowhawk for a priest, a musket for a holy water clerk,
a kestrel for a knave.

 

Latham's Book of Falconrie

Many of these birds are illustrated on the title page of Latham’s 1615 Book of Falconrie. If you’re interested in stunning bird photography, take a look at the RSPB’s website.

Here’s a link to an article about the history of hawking by Richard Grassby and another to a page of Shakespeare references to the sport.

The Royal Shakespeare Company is about to mount a new production of The Taming of the Shrew, a play in which Shakespeare makes a connection between a man’s attempt to tame his wife and the training of a hawk. It’s not by any means his only reference to the sport, but it is the most obvious. There have been calls in recent years for the play not to be performed, so distasteful does this seem to us, but in many of the contemporary stories of wife-taming, the husband usually administered violent beatings. Petruchio’s attempt “to kill a wife with kindness” is comparatively mild, because it was well known that training a bird of prey could not by done by cruel means.
My falcon now is sharp and passing empty,
And till she stoop she must not be full-gorg’d,
For then she never looks upon her lure.
 Another way I have to man my haggard,
To make her come and know her keeper’s call.

Alun Armstrong as Petruchio with the unhooded falcon

In the 1982 RSC production Alun Armstrong, playing Petruchio, made sure nobody missed the point by delivering this speech while carrying a hooded bird of prey on his wrist. A murmur went round the auditorium as the audience realised the bird was real. As he gently removed the bird’s hood allowing it the freedom to look around everybody held their breath, an unforgettable theatrical moment.

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