Fresh & Not - So Observations

*PEOPLE PEEPING

Ah, some beauty,















Alongside me, here, are Jordan and Miranda, a lovely couple I've met at Lee Abbey. They were on the steps out front after I "discovered the news" via email last night and headed out for some air. Miranda assisted me greatly by providing me with a number with which I can make calls to the U.S. for one pence and Jordan chatted me up to keep me sane. (Jordan is from California, Miranda I believe from Ireland.) Today, after lunch and in between my travels, they were a great comfort. I much needed human(e) interaction, which they graciously provided. They are leaving in the morning for away-land, and I was glad to have known them (I may see Miranda again on her return sojourn in August).

I have chummed up others, too, here at Lee Abbey. Emmanuel, who often works the desk, seems always glad to see me, as I am him. Others are more chatty and generally friendly, now that they've seem my grimacy smile often enough. An elder gentleman by the name of Michael jawed over breakfast on several subjects (theatre, politics, local sites, etc.) The chefs, who are generally very business-y ("what'll you have, beef or vegeta - next!), are warming up to me. At dinner tonight (a simple and delicious cold plate selection) the chef chuckled when I happily exclaimed, "Load it up!"

Politeness helps greatly. It seems that politeness and patient persistence is the best way to get things done here.

Other peeping adventures:

Though I vaguely knew that there was a certain so-called "underbelly" of big city life I was still very surprised today that there are, well, certain things for sale on the streets of Soho - even at two in the afternoon. Quite odd being propositioned and surprising that I still found a polite way to say, "No, thank you" (I actually said, "No, thank you": sometimes simplicity is best). I am glad I saw too on the tube ride back home a loving couple cuddling warmly: reaffirmed my sense of what true affection is.

I've also run across (not literally) many beggars (some without limbs) and performers (some good) on the street and underground. Odd how they share the same space. I never know who to give change to - the beggar makes me sad, the musician happy; if I give change to the beggar, I'll be sad still because I'll have felt I should have given more; if I give change to the performer, I won't be happy because I'll have felt I should have given it to the beggar. So I don't give change. (I hope you all know I'm joking a bit about a serious subject, processing darkness with humor.)

One lady performer played a lovely "Stand By Me" today. Almost tossed a 20p in her guitar case, but the rush of people rushed me forward. Love that song.

Yesterday, in Leicester Square (pronounced "Lester"), waiting in line at the official "official" 1/2 price ticket booth (many ripoff knockoffs surrounding), I was propositioned by scalpers (these I sort of waved away). What most surprised me is in observing them I discovered that there seems to be a network: one scalper would call another on his cell and chat up prices to sell for like Wall Street stocks.

No great language barrier. Though do you all know the cliched habit some folks have of speaking more slowly and loudly to foreigners? I find here that if I ask the locals to speak more slowly and loudly, I understand them better (I need to do this less and less - and I never really say "talk louder" or "slower" but just project confusion).

Pigeons flock the tube too, sometimes flying quite closely to moving trains. No chickens, these pigeons.

Sigh.

Speaking to us IROPers, I'm sure we all - even with the excitement of our projects and adventures - have other normal life concerns to attend to (I know one of us has a child and anyway we all have families). One of my concerns has been the health of my mother, who has been sick with cancer for a while.

Just a little while ago she passed away.

Going back to the States for the funeral would be too costly (much beyond my means) and probably greatly disruptive to my project. And anyway I was aware she might pass while I was here and had done what I could to make sure all arrangements were arranged, and my sister, anyway, will be the "family representative" at the funeral. (Thank you for this, Crystal!)

I just wasn't expecting it to happen so quickly.

I may stay in tomorrow (or today, the hour's very, very late). Or I may go to Kensington Gardens or a Museum or something. I need to see something beautiful. And I very well may work. The beauty of work is that you can bury yourself in it.

I truly hope all you other IROPers are able to manage your personal concerns. I will mine.

My mother, waving "Aloha!" (literally, that's what she said), the last time I visited her alone (I love you, Mom),

O, O, O

There, I just lost three drops of my heart's blood.

An amazing Friday and Saturday, I've been out and about exploring, really getting into my blood the shape of the city (drat, hope none of the three drops held that knowledge!), metaphorically stumbling and popping right back up, seeing shows and soaking in.

As mentioned in earlier entries, I've been toying with and rejecting the idea of daily itineraries for when I explore. I think this plan served me well these first few days: "haphazard" allowed me to get comfortable with finding my way about. I now may (may) try a (still loose) system: specifically, if I need to be in a part of the city for a specific reason I will plan ahead and then explore other sites in the same, rather than hopping about. I likely would have done so originally, but needing the first few days to accomplish tasks at opposite ends hindered such. Two other reasons, too. Accounting for yesterday and today, and because I am so far nervous about being out too late at night, the shows I watched were matinees, which limited daytime exploration. I think I'll overcome this trepidition this week (even though there are lots of siren noises from out my window once the sun sets and finding my way home will inevitably involve dark alleys). Accounting for generally, an attempt to save money. I chose to stay at Lee Abbey because it includes some meals, and dinner begins at six. If I were to attend an evening show, unless the tube is really quick and I don't get lost, I likely wouldn't be able to partake of the meal I've already paid for. But I think I might either skip dinner some nights or just eat out, and of course I may be able to eat here and make a show on time (I should time myself one night soon as an experiment). I do wish to have more daytime to explore.

Which touches on one concern: how much of the city I'll really get to know while I'm here. London is so sprawling and has so many overlapping layers of history, the idea of trying to get to know it all is daunting. Then again, I've done well for five days of exploration, and I know I'll be something more than just a tourist by the time I leave. (One difficulty I've found is I know in seeking out one site I've passed other important sites only I don't recognize them as such, i.e., I'm fairly certain when I found the Globe that across the Thames were the Houses of Parliament, but I'm not sure which building or buildings housed the Houses.)

I'm going to "chunk" certain aspects of my adventures, perhaps daily, for my own benefit, as I consider this journal both private and public, and will peruse it later in life (saving and printing when it's "done"). This way too readers can skip over the stuff they don't find interesting. The format of what follows may change with time, but here goes,

PLAYS & PROJECT

*Archives

The British Library looks like it will be a very useful resource. It is quite large and has endless documents and recordings and is, of course, free to use. On my first venture alone, however, I did run across the problem of the text I'd requested not being useful - it was, rather than a reprint of documents (letters to and from and about Henry Irving and Ellen Terry and the like), a reference to those documents as they exist in microfilm, and the microfilm is only available at the Shakespeare Centre in Stratford-upon-Avon. It was a scratch attempt, though. My plan now is to request several texts at a time, to, for example, attempt 1 1/2 tasks while there in the hope of getting 1 done.

*The Globe, William Shakespeare's King Lear (from Friday, 27 June).

Overall a wonderful production, I was truly delighted. David Calder was powerful in the title role, handling the verse with aplomp and descending into infant like innocence and madness with disconcerting ease. Sally Breton's Goneril was frightening and surprisingly sympathetic. As Regan, Kelly Bright's most powerful moment was the blinding of Gloucester (more shortly). Another notable performance was Jonothan Bensom's Kent. He played both Kent and Kent in disguise with an unexpected, underlying integrity of character while believably distinguishing the two "roles." The only thoroughly disappointing performance (granted, on first viewing) was Joseph Mydell's Gloucester. He seemed to speak the verse and speak the verse only. Never did the world he was in or the events occuring register in his eyes, from what I saw. This lack was a shame: so much of the power of Lear hinges on the moment, near the end, when he and Lear meet again. His blinding was powerful only because it was gruesome: Bright literally mounted him and the act was portrayed quite sexually. And when he fell, from "the cliffs of Dover," I neither laughed nor was moved; rather, I winced because the moment was wastefully lost. What I found most intriguing at my first "Globe experience" was the use of stage space. The whole of it - boards, balcony and house - was used. The hunting grounds was somewhere outside the theatre, near where the Thames "would be"; the tiring house was the rest of Lear's castle, Gloucester's home, and so many other sites (the balcony often a part); the yard (where I stood) was the valley the madmen cowered in (one nearly tripped me while scurrying along the ground). Costumes (wonderful costumes) also quickly established status, setting and time. The music (live) was lovely and often shifted tone and "masked" the few slightly complex set changes. Unfortunately - very - I could catch no cuts or transpositions. Granted, Lear is the "Mount Everest" of Shakespeare, but I thought I'd catch a few. I thought the Gloucester subplot had been cut substantially in the "second half" (after his blinding) but I confirmed later, and no (perhaps my disappointment with its execution led me to this belief). The production seemed to follow the standard conflation of quarto and folio. What I did find interesting about the text was the rapidity of its execution. Though it must be noted that Shakespearean scene changes are imposed by later editors, the rapid pacing often undermined the power of key moments. Edmund's soliloqy on nature and bastardy followed the scene previous so quickly, and was executed the same, that its weight was hardly felt. Another interesting aspect of text, its "indication" (I had thought once of focussing on this aspect of illuminating text): Calder, especially, often brought the text to vivid life with his movements. The burgamesque dance at the end was moving and fun: actors brought other ("dead") actors back to life with a touch, notably Goneral and Regan with Cordelia, then Cordelia with Lear, and then the audience clapped in beat as they delighted us and thanked our patronage. Distractions? A few: helicopters flew above; a group of schoolchildren seated stage right kept giggling at a pigeon; a woman in the yard (quite near me) fainted and had to be helped out in a wheelchair. But I suspect these come with a Globe performance, and, as I said, overall a wonderful production. In some ways, miraculous.

*The Olivier, George Bernard Shaw's Major Barbara (from today).
I will write about this production shortly (it's getting late and, anyway, I think with most productions I'll generally need a day or two to - begin to - process what I see). In short, in all ways, miraculous, simply sublime.

*Difficulties

I have had a few. One is the procurement of tickets. I had wished and had been advised to purchase as many tickets as possible before departure, but could find no way to utilize a student discount online (and such can save many pounds). These past few days my travels have largely involved trying to track down and buy tickets to shows that will be closing shortly or have a short run time. Buying tickets online here still negates the student discount, and apparently not all box offices are open during the daytime (especially off West End or fringe; I discovered this today when I tracked down the Bridewell Theatre). And so many productions have overlapping schedules. I think a good plan will be to "map" a schedule of the shows and track down say one theatre per day (after I discover box office hours) and buy ahead when possible. I also think venturing out more at night will alleviate this difficulty.

Okay, I'm about pooped for today, so no other "chunks" of adventures, though possible headings include: PEOPLE PEEPING (where I'll discuss observations from a distance and close-up); BELLY GRUMBLES (where I'll list food eaten, a description, and prices where applicable, largely for my own future ruminations); TRANSIT TERRORS (a self-explanatory though tongue-in-cheek heading); SITES AND SCENES (where I'll discuss museums, parks and the like); and COMING ATTRACTIONS (or what's on the agenda). Most such entries will be brief, but I like this manner of reflection, and the more in the habit I am of doing so the less time it takes to execute (the only argument against it).

But wait, one more,

PICS

Images from the National - a statue of Sir Laurence Olivier, a measure of the building itself, and my ticket/ program. (The programs here - at least at the National - are very posh and, especially, informative, with several interesting essays, and rehearsal photographs to boot. I'd settled on not buying them - you must buy them, at all theatres, here - to save pounds, just using the ticket stubs as souvenirs, but I may, I just may, allow myself to buy the programs.)

British coins - I love 'em! I plan on bringing back one of each and may stuff them in a small pouch and use it as an actor's trick to get in character for some roles down the road, as a physical "image." Clockwise, starting at midnight: 1£, 50p, 20p, 10p, 5p, 2p, 1p, and 2£ (it trips me up that the "dime" is smaller than the "nickel." Click on the pic for a larger image!

(**Later note: my timidity about after dark explorations, obviously, arose from the fact that I'd be hoofing around alone. Reading Elizabeth's blog, and seeing all the beautiful night time photos, has infused me with greater inspiration.)

[title to come]

Really, there will be a title one day (at which point this sentence will - vamoosh!). (And if there's never a title we can all just ponder the beauty of the word vamoosh! - exclamation mark being really a part of the word.)

A truly wonderful day today. Prof. McDonald (my mentor) and I met for lunch (he treated) and discussed my project and practical matters. Most interestingly, he encouraged my sense of adventure while quelling my (slight) trepidition (London's so big!). He gave lots of useful information and helped me re-frame my project somewhat so that I now have "guideposts"; he clued me in to the theatre scene, Shakespeare and non, tipping "must sees"; he essentially moved me into the British Library and helped me unpack. Rightly so, he encouraged me not to "do the math" when pricing - a habit that can sour purchases - while noting the need to live within a budget (it's a sort of double-think, look at the cost of the sandwich in terms of your daily budget and okay, good; look at a sandwich as costing 4 to 6 or more dollars and not so much). Lamentably, I forgot to snap a photo or two (no photos today) of he and I or him alone. We will be meeting again mid-July and if or as needed I can contact him by email or phone with questions. Very exciting news, I may be interviewing some noteworthy folks in the weeks to come!

And I now feel grounded.

And I like exploring a touch haphazardly. I've contemplated formulating itineraries and chunking London piecemeal - here this weekend, here Tuesday, ne'er return because here Thursday - but a touch loose seems to be fine and fun as long as I do adventure and do work. I like being able to "soak-in" and I know me, the itinerary approach wouldn't allow me to do so (soaking in's sort of relaxed, isn't it?).

At Prof. McDonald's urging I sought out Waterstone's bookstore shortly after he and I wrapped up at the British Library - and such a bookstore I've never been in! Something like five stories high, and a whole room dedicated to drama and drama studies (Greek to pomo and newmo which might really just be mo). Books I bought,

(for my project) The Cambridge Companion to Victorian and Edwardian Theatre, ed. Kerry Powell

(for me) Brook, Peter. The Empty Space and (separately) Grotowsky, Jerzy Towards a Poor Theatre.

Books I may return to buy (out of dozens),

(for my project) Worthen, W.B. Shakespeare and the Force of Modern Performance

(for me) Dollimore, Jonathan Radical Tragedy and (separately) Hartley, Andrew James The Shakespearean Dramaturg.

So many books I've never seen except at Dimond Library, the type if you tried to order them you'd find if at all you could only get hardcover (lots of critical texts in paperback!). (An odd book I'd like to buy is on my favorite television mini-series The Singing Detective, but perhaps too pricey at 20£ - a "fluff" purchase, bottom shelf.)

Will be returning to the British Library come morn, and seeing Lear (at the Globe) afterwards (and after lunch - what kind of sandwich will I find tomorrow? Will it at last be Cheese and Branson Pickle?). Time permitting I may also try the bus system. Then, though no rigid itinerary forthcoming, a loose plan must be laid for the weekend and early next week (it's the best laid plans or "itineraries" that come to naught - or whatever Robbie Burns said, modified).

Lastly for today I'd like to say that I'm loving especially all the walking, even changing lines in the tube is a hike and an adventure. These past few days I've been walking a good 2 to 3 hours and I imagine I'll add to that pace a bit (standing in the pit at the Globe for 3 plus hours will just have to count as walking a little). Detoxing hardcore finally from end of and post semester excessive caffeine and such too so walking's extra good. (Yoga in the morning helps stretch me out, prepare my body.)

The Great Globe [Gift Shop] Itself

Adventured to the Globe yesterday (Day Two) to get out, explore and buy a ticket. Took the tube for the first time - the tube route map is slightly less confusing than the bus route map - and it was both whelming and easy. You see all these people dashing about these vast hallways and tunnels and there's always this clanking sound about and everything is bright and shadowy and at first you have the urge to be confused but then you just - follow the signs. I think signs will be a big help around here. And I think the only thing about the tube I won't quite get used to is the escalators - they're so high you can't see the tops or bottoms sometimes and they're in these slanted tunnels so even though you're standing and vertical it feels like you're horizontal, very, very vertiginous. I'm going to find out today if all the train line "colors" on the map are what the hand-rails are painted on the trains (i.e., District "green" line has green hand-rails).

Signs and my A to Zed map helped me to the Globe, but at a certain point it was mostly the signs. It was an interesting walk, very windy and beautiful but I think someone tried to lift my wallet - I had this sense that someone was right behind me and I cocked my head about and this guy who was right behind me jumped back a few feet and then skirted quickly ahead of me, never making eye contact - so I will be very careful next time, meaning tomorrow. (**Later note: not having actually been pickpocketed, I thought the experience kind of neat.) The Globe from outside, at least from where I entered, didn't at all resemble the pictures and designs I'm familiar with - I think where I was was an exterior mostly for ticket sales and the gift shop. After buying a ticket for tomorrow's performance of Lear and a reminder to myself that I'm on a budget I headed up to the gift shop. Generally, I was unimpressed - not disappointed, just unimpressed. Most things being sold were gimmicky and those that weren't were pricey. About a 1/4 of the stuff was not necessarily Shakespeare specific, but rather vaguely Renaissance. I found the things I was drawn to were the DVDs of Shakespeare films (some of which aren't in my collection) and the CDs of Globe performance music (I might buy one of these later). I finally bought a wooden dagger and sheath for 4.50£ and I'm very happy with it; I like props I can play act with.

Looking forward to seeing Lear tomorrow (Friday) - as a groundling! - and meeting with Prof. McDonald later today (Thursday).

Do feel a touch disconnected, which may just be jetlag, who knows? I do hope I can make friends with some of the folks that are staying here at Lee Abbey, though every time I've tried to strike up a chat the other person seems to shut themselves off, almost embarrassed like. I'll figure it out, I hope. I don't like anonymity, I've decided.

Internet access very slow, shower stalls tiny, food tasty (had something like bacon yesterday morning with breakfast - it looked a little like bacon anyway but tasted almost like a really salty pork chop).

A photo journey to the Globe, from Lee Abbey:

What he should most dislike seems pleasant to him,/ What like, [also]

Or, William has landed!

Day one is done and I've already realized that if I write about all I want to I'll spend more time writing than living, researching and adventuring, so . . .

To sum. My first flight, waiting to board and take off were the most stressful parts. In the boarding area, I was so hyper-excited-sickly-nervous-panicky that time seemed to accellerate to a near stand-still: whenever I looked at my watch I felt (equally) both more and less time should have passed. Part of me kept saying that it would probably similar to my experience with roller coasters: all terror in line and just as you start to climb, but then a rush. But then another part kept reminding me I don't even like being in a car when someone else is driving. On the plane it was backing up and moving forward and adjusting that were rough, but then, then - vrooom! Yee - haw! Taking off is thrilling, worth the price of admission, so-fast-so-quick, wow. Then getting to see the Earth below become smaller and smaller, and then you're over the water, and then you're through and then over the clouds . . . Landing was an equal wonder, especially the holding pattern, when the plane dipped and the Earth and buildings seemed to scroll outside the window. So, at last, the only real unpleasantness was the ear pressure thing - gum didn't work on the way down, people! - and the armrest that slowly, painstakingly bruised the outside of my thigh. The woman who was sitting next to me, whom I'd told before take-off it was my first flight, was finally surprised to see me having such a good time. So was I.

From plane to train to taxi, cramped to comfortable to roomy, decompression by means of conveyance. I checked in at Lee Abbey but not really, I dropped off my bags at 10 but couldn't check in 'till 330 - no worries, as I'd planned on staying up anyway. Got directions to the nearest Barclay's cash point ("the hole in the wall," as the sign by it reads), and to Sainsbury's, and hiked about. Happy to say my debit card works fine (and there doesn't seem to be any withdrawal fee, just like with Bank of America at home) and I got right away a few landmarks to help me get around right around where I'm at. Got lunch at Sainsbury's and hiked back to Lee Abbey and ate it in the gardens, a nice, simple first meal, very tasty: Farmhouse Double Gloucester and Fruit Chutney sandwich, a cup of cut mango, and a diet cherry coke. (The coke has more of a cherry taste than the US brand: I thought they'd be the same, but I was happily wrong.) Afterward I hiked out again, exhausted with still two hours before check-in, to the Victoria and Albert Museum. From the wings I explored I got absorbed by the statues mostly and must go back to see the Raphaels; there are areas I didn't go into and will soon.

General impressions from walking about? There is an odd mix of congestion and spaciousness, and I think it's the plant life that gives the latter - big trees, gardens everywhere and parks, too, and I think I even saw a couple bushes growing from a 'sill two stories up! Don't know much about architecture but there seem to be all different sorts of buildings stylistically. And odd little comparisons, how the phone booths seem to have more character than the ones you can find about in the US (New England, at least) these days.

It's Wednesday morning right now, for me. Going out to explore a little and maybe buy some theatre tickets. My exploration might be a bit shopshod but that's okay, wandering about is sometimes just as good as following a plan. And tomorrow I will meet Prof. McDonald and have lunch and get set up at the British Library.

The pics are from my first day adventures, sort of sloppily thrown together for now - sorry, will try to keep pictures more organized soon, labelled and such!

Don't you pluck me by the beard!

Just had my heart heaved into my throat: I called Virgin Atlantic to confirm my flight departure tomorrow and, after an inquiry into my reference number, was told I wasn't in their system! Ack! And as I was frantically searching through paperwork and emails, and after all of a minute and a half, ("Just another moment, please," I asked of the representative twice), my call was disconnected (purposefully? I don't know). A phone call to Student Universe (through whom I'd purchased my tickets) and another to Virgin Atlantic and all was straightened out, but man, that was frightening. Though, perhaps, a normal experience. And I definitely felt a pinch at my chin-whiskers . . .

All packed, and ready to go-go-go! I'm all jazzed up. After I land I've now got two different ways I can get to where I'll be staying, the choice depending on how adventurous I feel and how many pounds I want to spend (the more conservative choice will run me about 25£, the more adventurous about 5£). Once I check in I'll explore a bit, either hiking to the Victoria and Albert Museum and soaking in or seeking out the nearest theatre sites and purchasing tickets (I also hope to find a grocer and try a cheese and Branson pickle sandwich). Most importantly, I'll be calling my foreign mentor (Russ McDonald, a fine Shakespearean scholar whose works I greatly respect) and setting up a lunch and chat to get me started on my project. Yay!

Douglas Lanier, my UNH mentor (and another great scholar and teacher), has done such a wonderful job preparing me. (Doug, when you read this, thank you again!) I would not have come this far without his guidance, and I commend him especially for his patience with my always bubbling excitement and occasional nervousness.

I'm not sure how much I'll be affected by jetlag - I've shuffled my sleep schedule so much for work these past couple weeks that my body just doesn't know when to sleep anymore! My plane leaves at 745pm Monday and lands around 7 - 730am Tuesday and I figure I'll stay up through the day and crash around 9 or 10 that night. (I honestly don't think I'll be able to sleep on the plane. Not only is flying a new experience for me, but being in an aisle seat I must be ever vigilant in gaurding my elbow.) I should also have internet access shortly thereafter, so there shouldn't be too long a break in my journaling!

One more day, one more day! And my silliest kitty, camped out on my suitcase below, plumb insists she can come along with me and no one will notice.














And this, this is what I don't want to happen with my flight.












I also don't want the kosher meal.

(**Later note: I just checked in with Virgin Atlantic online, a new feature, and ran across the same problem of not being able to find myself. So I decided to enter a few different things in the field entries and hit, first swing, on the problem: my middle name was in the system as part of my first name, dagnabbit! Well, if any difficulties arise tomorrow I'll at least be able to point folks in the right direction to fix them. And even though with online check-in you're supposed to be able to arrive only 90 minutes before take-off and be all set I'm still going to show up a good 3 hours ahead of time, just to be safe. Paranoid, me, 'yup.)

There is a place for us, somewhere . . .

Okay, okay, I just had a (for me) holy experience: I just finished watching the 1961 film of West Side Story. I know, it's one of those films I should've seen long, long ago (if not in a land far away) and I have meant to for some time, but there are so many films to see, plays to attend, classical works to hear, books to read, visions to behold, and, well, roads to travel, that one can get downright boggled. But if one is to be perpetually distressed, better in this fashion than others.

What pressed me to view the film now was a wish to expose myself to "Shakespeare as musical." As mentioned in an earlier entry, one production of Twelfth Night I will be seeing will be staged as such. While West Side Story is more an adaption/ musical, I believed it still would begin to teach me how Shakespearean intersecting plotlines, themes, and characters (however translated) crop up in a world where individuals and groups express deepest sentiment in song and dance (plotlines, particularly, needing to be restructured to accommodate what is alternately known as the showcase, set piece, and - my favorite - number). My UNH mentor also recently suggested I might not only benefit from but enjoy the film, pressing me farther.

Now, if I were a religious man (particularly Jewish or Christian) I'd say it's a good thing God told all those Old Testament prophets exactly what to say to the Israelites after each grand appearance. In contrast, I am still awash in the experience of the holy and, frankly, at a loss for words. All I can truly say is that my theory panned out, I did gain insight into "Shakespeare as musical." My tongue and keyboard-hopping fingertips are only metaphorically bound from expressing precise examples. Thoughts to follow in the weeks to come!

I will, anyway, bring this film and a few others with me to London, if only because the authors of so many critical texts refer as (if not more) often to film productions as to those staged (I suspect the view is that film is a more fixed referent). To point, an article I read recently on the jazz-like rhythms of Twelfth Night referred as often to stage productions (and a few of these imagined) as to Trevor Nunn's film (the one with Helena Bonham Carter as Olivia). But, dagnabbit, I will only refer to these films to clarify an otherwise unclear argument, for illustration - my focus abroad will largely be on live performance (excepting recorded performances from recent history).

So I saw this Twelfth Night earlier today, too (it's been a day for movies, rainy and quiet). I didn't much like it. The only stand-out performance was Ben Kingsley's Feste (or Clown). Music was called upon much too much to generate, rather than enhance, mood (Kingsley's songs excepted). Other faults abounded. And anyway I've seen clips from it before and I thought I might not like it.

Why did I watch it, then? Well, because I might have liked it. But also, and primarily, as a test. Because I will be analyzing how cuts and transpositions of text affect performance, and because films of Shakespeare's plays so frequently cut and transpose, I thought I'd see how many I'd catch while seeing a new (for me) film. And boy, were there lots! (I watched the film without script in hand, a practice I will need to repeat in London, it being bad taste to watch a play with open script). About an hour in and I was a touch lost - so, so many alterations, but I caught most of the big ones and a number of the minor, too. Luckily, stage productions usually don't cut and transpose so darn much!

But, most importantly, the test was successful. I did catch many alterations and even formulated some thoughts on their effects, the (almost Victorian) domestication of Maria and the neutering of the curtain close threat of Malvolio being two key. (Any interested in what alterations did what comment and I'll comment back!)

I'm going to try to set up a couple polls or something like either right now or soon to learn what plays I'll be focussing on you all are familiar with. Basically I'm hoping to find out how much I can use my journal to inform you all on the progress of my research and to what extent I can go in-depth in my entries.

Six more days - well, considering the hour (note the fall in my prose's quality) - almost five! Yay! (And it looks like all you blogging IROPers will be almost halfway through your projects by the time I fly, sheesh! But anyway it's been great reading your blogs - very informative plus entertaining.)

Five more days, five more days!

We Band of . . . Whoa! Check out those graphics!

I don't play video games much anymore, so my "graphics" plug in my title is meant sardonically. (But to you gamers I acknowledge that these systems are doing wonders with visuals these days.)

I thought I'd include a link to the advertisement I discussed briefly below (just copy and paste into your browser). I may ponder the ad some more, and I'd love comments about it. What do you think it has to say about Shakespeare, pop culture, and advertisement? (I also neglected to mention previously that the ad plugs a racing game too - so it's not just KILL-KILL-KILL! And I would have pasted the clip itself but - well, technical difficulties.)

http://www.gametrailers.com/player/usermovies/229285.html

to meow or not to meow

There are so many "gimmicky" appropriations of Shakespeare.

Including advertisements. Last night, I saw an advertisement for the PS3 Gaming System that was a series of clip excerpts that seemed to be taken from "kids" war games and "grown up" war games. The sound overdub was a passionate, edited reading of the St. Crispin's Day speech from Henry V (see below for textual comparison). The speech is one that conjures sentiments of honor and patriotism, and, coupled with the games, I think the idea behind the advertisement is that, by playing, you can not only vicariously KILL-KILL-KILL, but feel good about it too. (And with the kids war games you can bop, boff, tickle and tazer with the same feel good feel.) Alas.

Sony's text:

We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he today that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother;
And gentlemen now abed
Shall think themselves accursed they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon this day!

The actual:

We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition;
And gentlemen in England now-a-bed
Shall think themselves accurs'd they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.

First observations? All direct references to Englishness are cut, which, in itself, makes sense, the gaming system being marketed globally, and not exclusively to England. Perhaps more significant is the cut "be he ne'er so vile,/ This day shall gentle his condition," a passage directed to the low-born, landless masses fighting alongside the aristocratic military elite, including the king. Is it just cut because it is obscure, the syntax a touch difficult? Or is it cut from a fear of potentially alienating a large, if not the largest, segment of the product's market, the lower (economic) class?

I also saw last night an old short, "Master Will Shakespeare." Essentially an advertisement for MGM's early Romeo and Juliet, starring Leslie Howard and Norma Shearer. The thrust of the short seems to be that Shakespeare was predestined to come into being as the greatest playwright of all time but that fate, ever cruel fate, bore him into a time of infant-like staging techniques, and MGM, by creating its lavish, oh so realistic film, was at last righting this tragic wrong.

The following clip is cute, if only for a cat lover. I would not label it as an adaptation of Shakespeare; it is only an amusement. Hope you like it! (And hopefully it doesn't make you want to KILL-KILL-KILL, vicariously or otherwise!)

A better cue for action?

I just heard an interesting quote - The Daily Show with Jon Stewart occasionally surprises me! The quote's by this fellow Ambrose Bierce who I'm sure every one on Earth's heard of but me:

"War is God's way of teaching Americans geography."

Speaking from my own experience, there may be some truth behind this quote. At the last millenium's close I had only begun to be aware of the world, its peoples' geography and vast interconnected history. And the events of the past several years, largely defined by war, may have quickened my curiosity and learning curve. My pursuit of knowledge may have been more lackadaisical if these events had not occured. But, to be fair to myself, I am speaking hypothetically.

At any rate, and without a long-winded rhetorical flourish (not feeling particularly prosodic), meditating upon my research project is leading me to believe that there is, and has been, another way for Americans to learn geography: curiosity, academic or otherwise. A cause for hope? - Don't know; just meditating here. But I am ever grateful to programs (such as UNH's IROP, which I must plug in a later entry) that encourages such (here, academic) curiosity, not only broadening the horizons' of young students but building strong connections across borders.

This Bierce fellow has a number of interesting quotes, some very similar to the aphorisms of Nietzche or Montaigne. Two more:

"What is a democrat? One who believes that the republicans have ruined the country. What is a republican? One who believes that the democrats would ruin the country."

"A person who doubts himself is like a man who would enlist in the ranks of his enemies and bear arms agains himself. He makes his failure certain by himself being the first person to be convinced of it."

How slow this old moon wanes!

Actually, time is drawing on apace rather quickly! Twelve days to go, and the summer of my solemnities will be, at last, begun.

I had today a wonderful tea with a teacher/ colleague/ friend, and made a new acquaintance also (a native of London). It was simply great to talk about my project and what awaits me across the Pond. A tea and chat is such a good social activity. Looking forward to LOTS of 'em in London.

Many small final details to attend to, but getting there!

I've posted here too a "test" slideshow to see how it works before I fly fly away. The cats all lurk around a friend's house I've crashed at before living on campus and am crashing at now, temporarily.

a local habitation and a [cut by director]

In two weeks and two days, on 23 June at around 730pm, I will be boarding an aeroplane fated (scheduled, at least) to land at Heathrow Airport, London early in the a.m. 24 June. There, after passage through passport control, luggage claim, and customs, after a hop on Heathrow Express to Paddington Square and a taxi ride to where I'll be staying, and of course after I check in and unburden myself of what will be by then cumbersome luggage (all the while dropping pounds like breadcrumbs for other wayward birds to find their ways home with), I will blessedly enter the next phase of my project - on-site research.

"Poison In Jest," "Such Sweet Thunder," and half dozen plus other potential titles I'd have to dig up to list (but won't). The name, anyway, will likely undergo several more permutations, won't be fixed for some time. What is my project, specifically, broadly? For now (saving such perhaps for a later date), I will eschew its long gestation and offer instead its present form. Specifically, I will research how cuts and transpositions of text affect various aspects of key Shakespeare plays in performance. Broadly, I will research and formulate my own opinions about what constitutes a performance of Shakespeare in this age of (re)interpretation and adaptation, where diverse traditions and fields interpenetrate and remake one another. Between these two wings will (hopefully) the body of the bird fly. While in London (where I will be dedicating the first seven weeks of my nine week project), I will make use of (to begin with) current performances, archived performances, performance criticism and (ideally) interviews: these will be my source "texts."

The key plays are Romeo and Juliet, A Midsummer Night's Dream, Twelfth Night and King Lear. The first three plays were chosen partly because each is being staged by at least two venues, offering first a chance to evaluate the effects of different directorial "edits." Moreover, two of these advertise intriguing alternate stagings, offering a chance to reassess what constitutes a Shakespeare performance: one Romeo and Juliet announces a 45 minute run-time (its Autobahn "traffic") and implies the potential for a re-worked, happy ending; one Twelfth Night bills itself as a musical. King Lear was chosen for its richly complex staging and editorial history.

Touching on my "specifically," what are some of the questions that arise from this focus? A few areas that would likely be affected by cuts and transpositions are: the meaning of the play as a whole; characterization; and the poetry, especially the imagery, subtly built into the dialogue. I will also need to determine whether behind these cuts and transpositions lies an operating principle (or reinterpretation) or simply the need to meet contemporary stagecraft practices (e.g., complex set changes or an audience's need for a lav or cig break, a.k.a. intermission); and, if predominantly the latter, what "accidental" reinterpretations arise from the changes. (I already suspect, however, that few practical choices will be made without an eye to interpretation.)

Touching on my "broadly" would be more difficult at this time. I am only just beginning to formulate my opinions on Shakespearean adaptation, those works that are both Shakespeare and something "other than." I am, however, already aware of a perhaps childish bias: if an adaptation "works" for me, I find it (however uniquely) "true to"; if it does not, I find it "a deviation from." (And, oddly, I find many so-called faithful interpretations more deviant than adaptations: compare any stuffy, unenergetic and uncut filmed stage production to either Morrissette's Scotland, PA or Kaufman's Tromeo and Juliet and you may catch my drift.) In future entries, look for developing notions of and approaches to adaptation.

Another noteworthy feature of these key plays - the first three - is their popularity. Romeo and Juliet and A Midsummer Night's Dream are perhaps the most frequently read and staged plays, at least here in the States, that the general populace are familiar with; Twelfth Night is quickly arriving at this status. As such, if only later in life, I will be able to discuss my project equally fruitfully with academics and non-academics alike.

Two weeks, two days, and - as of now - just over an hour! It seems almost unreal. I've never flown, never been abroad, never scaled a project so high, so precipitous. But, every so often - every minute or two, these days - excitement catches my breath, catches me. And there, instantly in my mind, I'll be: at a performance, in an archive, at an interview, learning, learning, witnessing, beholding.