Brief comments on the 2005 Pride and Prejudice

 

As fans were celebrating the 20th anniversary of the film, I thought why not revisit it? So I did. And I didn’t like it, though visually it is beautiful. 

Let me explain why. 

First of all, at two hours, the film feels a bit rushed. This is a common complaint, I know—certain things get cut, certain characters are underdeveloped, the film cannot have the complexity of the novel—but I can’t help noticing that the 2005 Pride and Prejudice emphasises the attraction and romance and neglects the prejudice, and the development of the relationship between Elizabeth Bennet and Mr Darcy. Some of it is because the Mr Wickham plot is barely there—there is not much space between the introduction of Mr Wickham and the reveal of his character (Elizabeth doesn’t have much time to like Mr Wickham for the revelation to be a blow either). The film also reduces the ridiculousness of Mrs Bennet, and the wit and irresponsibility of Mr Bennet.

Another problem is that Matthew Macfadyen is not very good as Mr Darcy. Keira Knightley is good as Elizabeth Bennet (much better than her own performance as Anna Karenina) and I can see why her Lizzie is so beloved, but Matthew Macfadyen is more or less inexpressive for the entire film. Colin Firth is so popular as Mr Darcy not because he’s hot (though that helps), but because he conveys so well the pride, the awkwardness, the struggle between his own passion and his distaste for Elizabeth’s embarrassing family, and above all, because he depicts the change, the development of Mr Darcy. As a character, Mr Darcy unfolds rather than changes, but he does adjust his manners—because of Elizabeth’s “lectures”, he learns to open up, and learns to speak to strangers with more warmth and friendliness. I saw that in Colin Firth’s performance; I didn’t really see it in Matthew Macfadyen’s. 

There are other irritations. Certain lines seem wrong (Mr Darcy says “You have bewitched me, body and soul, and I love… I love… I love you”—really?). Certain actions seem out of character. Would Elizabeth join with others in eavesdropping on her parents, or on her sister? And then burst in on them? Would she remain in Pemberley, knowing that Georgina is there, then watch her behind the door only to suddenly find Mr Darcy and run away like a rude intruder? Would Elizabeth snatch a letter from her father’s hand? 

I would also add, though some of you may find it petty, that after the clearly-spoken BBC adaptations I recently saw, I couldn’t help noticing that a few times in the 2005 Pride and Prejudice, the dialogue was almost drowned out by music, or other noises (such as the sound of rain). 

The main strengths of the film are the cinematography, Keira Knightley’s performance (I did like her witty, amused look), and the bond of the sisters, especially between Elizabeth and Jane. 

But as a whole, the 1995 series handles much better the characters and their relationships.

Now did you know that there’re currently two Pride and Prejudice series in the works? One is a six-part series, made by Netflix, with Emma Corrin and Jack Lowden in the main roles. The other is a ten-part adaptation of The Other Bennet Sister, a spin-off focusing on Mary Bennet (the Bennet sister nobody likes). Not hard to tell that both would be travesties.

Brief thoughts on the 1983 Mansfield Park

The chief strength of this series is the script—this is an adaptation made by people who understand the novel and take it seriously and get the tone right—I think anyone who, like me, loves Mansfield Park would think that it’s in many ways a better effort than some recent adaptations. I have often complained that Mansfield Park fares less well on the screen than other Jane Austen novels because people often want Fanny Price to be something other than she is, and modern filmmakers, clearly thinking they’re “improving” on the book, change her, modernise her, make her more “fun”. I have never understood it. Do we not have enough girlbosses? The 1999 film is a travesty and the 2007 film I don’t even bother to watch—just look at the casting of Billie Piper in the role. Here in the 1983 series, there’s no modernisation, no condescension. Fanny Price is quiet, unimposing, unassertive, but perceptive, self-reliant, firm, and she has a different kind of strength. 

There is also a strong cast, especially Bernard Hepton as Sir Thomas, Anna Massey as Mrs Norris, and Jonathan Stephens as Mr Rushworth. 

Unfortunately, I cannot praise it the way I have praised the 1972 War and Peace or the 1977 Anna Karenina, also done by the BBC. The production values are lower, some of the blocking and staging feel a bit awkward. I’m not sure how I feel about Sylvestra Le Touzel as Fanny—for the large part, she’s all right, but I don’t particularly like the way she sometimes moves her hands. I don’t really like Nicholas Farrell as Edmund either, who I think looks rather too old for the role, and the switch from Mary to Fanny at the end feels rather sudden. 

But the most unconvincing are Robert Burbage and Jackie Smith-Wood as the Crawfords—I don’t think there’s anything wrong with their acting as such, but the Crawfords are the most attractive and charming of Jane Austen’s villains—so charming that some readers even fall for them, prefer Mary Crawford to Fanny Price, and think that Fanny should have accepted Henry—the actors aren’t quite right for the roles.  

I also think that, spanning 6 episodes, the series has time to develop the characters and their relationships but handles the first half much better than the second half. The first half is very good, from the depiction of Fanny’s place at Mansfield Park, to the ha-ha sequence, to the play-acting sequence. I especially like the way the series depicts Henry Crawford flirting simultaneously with Maria Bertram (Samantha Bond) and Julia Bertram (Liz Crowther), sporting with their feelings—what a rake—which doesn’t escape Fanny’s eyes. The acting is good. Like the novel, the series makes me feel sorry for the vain Julia and the ridiculous Mr Rushworth. 

It is in the second half that the series does less well—I mean the way Henry starts with wanting to break Fanny’s heart but falls in love with her, and the way he, despite his feelings for Fanny, can’t resist the fun and flirtatious Maria. Perhaps part of it is because the actor isn’t convincing in the role, I don’t know.

In short, this is a more faithful, more serious adaptation of Mansfield Park than later versions, which I appreciate. But there are flaws. 

Thanks to Brian Green for telling me about this adaptation. 

On Anna Karenina (1977), the 7th and best adaptation I’ve seen of Tolstoy’s novel

My collage of all the 7 Annas I have seen (in chronological order). 

One common problem with adaptations of Anna Karenina is that, because of length, they have to cut many things and thus cannot convey the complexity of the characters and their relationships. The Greta Garbo film (1935) is 1 hour 35 minutes, the Vivien Leigh film (1948) is 2 hours 19 minutes, the Tatiana Samoilova film (1967) is 2 hours 25 minutes, the Sophie Marceau film (1997) is 1 hour 48 minutes, the Keira Knightley film (2012) is 2 hours 9 minutes, the Vittoria Puccini film (2013) is 3 hours 15 minutes—the novel is over 900 pages!—the 1977 series is 10 episodes, totalling 8 hours 20 minutes. 

Something I have noticed is that adapters often have trouble with Karenin. The earlier films, 1935 and 1948 films especially, tend to present Karenin as some sort of monster (presumably to make Anna more sympathetic) whereas some later ones, particularly 2012 and 2013, very much soften Karenin, making him more sympathetic, and present Anna as irrational and selfish and Vronsky as some callous playboy. They more or less pick one side over the other, and simplify the story.   

But if you watch the 1977 series, you can see the different facets of the characters, you can see their complexity, you can see their contradictions. Tolstoy may have begun Anna Karenina intending to condemn adultery, condemn the fallen woman, but gradually had compassion for them all, and do we not, reading his novel? We have compassion for Anna, who marries without love and has the misfortune of falling in love with someone else, unable to get a divorce. We can see why Anna hates Karenin, but can feel his pain and humiliation. We understand Vronsky’s shame and see the pain he causes Karenin, but he does love Anna, unlike the callous lovers of Emma Bovary. All these characters are complex, and you can all see that in the performances of Nicola Pagett, Eric Porter, and Stuart Wilson. 

In Stuart Wilson’s performance as Vronsky, I see a man who initially lives for fun and pleasure and who is ennobled by love—he changes—Stuart Wilson is especially good in the scenes of Vronsky suffering, such as the sense of immense shame and humiliation after Anna’s childbirth, and the scene in which he confides in Dolly about their impossible situation—he conveys better than other actors Vronsky’s depth of feeling and his struggle as Anna becomes increasingly difficult. Eric Porter’s Karenin is also the best Karenin I have seen—I can see why Anna doesn’t love him and Seryozha is afraid of him, which I don’t see when the 2012 and 2013 versions soften the character—at the same time, the earlier actors tend to play Karenin as a cold man, without feelings, Eric Porter’s Karenin is a man who speaks of duty, honour, and later Christianity, because he rejects his own feelings. Most importantly, Nicola Pagett is better than all the Annas I have seen, partly thanks to the length of the production and partly thanks to her own performance—she has the charm and passion of Anna, she conveys the shame, the struggle, the self-doubt, the insecurities, the anguish, the paranoia, the contradictions in the character. 

The 1977 series reminds me of the qualities for which Anna Karenina is so dear to my heart. 

This adaptation of Anna Karenina still prioritises the Anna strand—Kitty’s time in Germany for example is cut, Levin’s “revelation” is also cut—but because of length, it can include more of the Levin strand than most other versions. I do very much like Robert Swann as Levin and Caroline Langrishe as Kitty—it’s great casting—she has the innocence and purity of Kitty that contrasts with the more mature and darker sexual charm of Anna. Those of you who prefer the Levin strand to the Anna strand may prefer that the 2013 version puts more emphasis on Levin and Kitty, but that version has the modern disease of quick cuts, constant camera movements, and quiet and badly written dialogue—the 1977 series has great dialogue, spoken clearly, and allows the camera to linger, allows the drama to unfold. 

In short, this is a great adaptation, pitch-perfect. This is something it has in common with the 1972 War and Peace (with Anthony Hopkins as Pierre), also by the BBC: those who are used to spectacular visuals and place the image above all else may complain that these adaptations are “stagey” and lacking in camerawork, but to me, it’s much more important that something is well-written, well-developed, well-acted—I would always choose great performances with basic cinematography, over spectacular cinematography with mediocre performances and hollow representations of characters, especially if it’s an adaptation of a novel—in both cases, the screenwriters (Donald Wilson for Anna Karenina and Jack Pulman for War and Peace) understand and respect the novel, and in both cases, there’s a strong cast. I often say that the 1972 War and Peace handles Tolstoy’s characters much better than Bondarchuk’s film series and its only flaw is Natasha—but there is no weak point in the 1977 Anna Karenina. 

It is my favourite Tolstoy adaptation. 

It took me years to search for the series. It’s now uploaded on Youtube, in good quality. What are you waiting for? 

PS: 11/6 is my birthday. 

Tartuffe and The Misanthrope— Molière in Richard Wilbur’s verse translations

After the horrors of the Jacobean plays, here is warmth and light! 

1/ The eponymous character of Tartuffe, the impostor or hypocrite, doesn’t appear till Act 3.

Everything takes place in the Orgon household, as Orgon is under Tartuffe’s spell and has taken him into the house. Apart from Orgon, the only person who loves Tartuffe is Orgon’s mother, Pernelle. Everyone else hates him: Elmire, Orgon’s wife; Damis and Mariane, Orgon’s son and daughter and Elmire’s stepson and stepdaughter; Cleante, Elmire’s brother; Valere, Mariane’s lover; Dorine, Mariane’s maid. 

The play was first performed in 1664 and, according to Wikipedia, Molière played Orgon. 

Orgon is so taken with Tartuffe for some reason that he wants to break his promise and marry his daughter Mariane to him, against her wish but also—as it surprisingly turns out—not according to Tartuffe’s desire. 

Some of the best lines in the play belong to Dorine, the maid: 

“DORINE Tell him one cannot love at a father’s whim; 

That you shall marry for yourself, not him; 

That since it’s you who are to be the bride, 

It’s you, not he, who must be satisfied; 

And that if his Tartuffe is so sublime, 

He’s free to marry him at any time.” 

(Act 2 scene 3) 

Later: 

“TARTUFFE (taking a handkerchief from his pocket) For mercy’s sake 

Please take this handkerchief, before you speak. 

DORINE What? 

TARTUFFE Cover that bosom, girl. The flesh is weak, 

And unclean thoughts are difficult to control. 

Such sights as that can undermine the soul. 

DORINE Your soul, it seems, has very poor defences, 

And flesh makes quite an impact on your senses. 

It’s strange that you’re so easily excited; 

My own desires are not so soon ignited, 

And if I saw you naked as a beast, 

Not all your hide would tempt me in the least.” 

(Act 3 scene 2)  

Ha! 

The whole play is very, very funny. Tartuffe is a very good depiction of a religious hypocrite but Orgon is a more interesting case study and, despite the name of the play, is the central character. I note that we see Tartuffe’s pretence of piety in Acts 3 and 4 but have only one scene of his manipulation, when Damis angrily tells Orgon about Tartuffe’s (one-sided) flirtation with his wife and Tartuffe has to save himself—in all the other scenes, we see Tartuffe with people who have seen through him and hate him. Now look at Orgon—how is a man so utterly under another man’s spell that he’s willing to turn against his whole family and hand over to him his entire estate? It’s a great depiction of religious mania. 

2/ There is a figure that gets satirised in both plays:

In Tartuffe: 

“DORINE Oh, yes, she’s strict, devout, and has no taint 

Of worldliness; in short, she seems a saint. 

But it was time which taught her that disguise;

She’s thus because she can’t be otherwise. 

So long as her attractions could enthrall, 

She flounced and flirted and enjoyed it all, 

But now that they’re no longer what they were

She quits a world which fast is quitting her, 

And wears a veil of virtue to conceal

Her bankrupt beauty and her lost appeal. 

That’s what becomes of old coquettes today:

Distressed when all their lovers fall away, 

They see no recourse but to play the prude, 

And so confer a style on solitude. 

Thereafter, they’re severe with everyone,

Condemning all our actions, pardoning none, 

And claiming to be pure, austere, and zealous

When, if the truth were known, they’re merely jealous, 

And cannot bear to see another know

The pleasures time has forced them to forgo.” 

(Act 1 scene 2) 

In The Misanthrope, such a figure appears as Arsinoé: 

“CELIMENE It’s all an act. 

At heart she’s worldly, and her poor success 

In ensnaring men explains her prudishness. 

It breaks her heart to see the beaux and gallants

Engrossed by other women’s charms and talents,

And so she’s always in a jealous rage

Against the faulty standards of the age, 

She lets the world believe that she’s a prude

To justify her loveless solitude, 

And strives to put a brand of moral shame

On all the graces that she cannot claim…” 

(Act 3 scene 3) 

We all know that type, don’t we? 

On a side note, I don’t like the way scenes are divided in these plays—it’s marked as a new scene whenever a character leaves or enters, which doesn’t make sense—I prefer the way it’s done in Shakespeare’s plays. 

3/ This is the titular character of The Misanthrope: 

“ALCESTE […] we all desire 

To be told that we’ve the true poetic fire. 

But once, to one whose name I shall not mention, 

I said, regarding some verse of his invention, 

That gentleman should rigorously control 

That itch to write which often afflicts the soul; 

That one should curb the heavy inclination 

To publicize one’s little avocation; 

And that in showing off one’s works of art 

One often plays a very clownish part.” 

(Act 1 scene 2) 

Hahahaha I must say that to certain “poets” on the hellsite previously known as Twitter. 

Compared to the main characters of The Miser, The Self-Made Gentleman, and Tartuffe, Alceste is more ambiguous: his misanthropy is extreme, but at the same time Molière exposes the insincerity and hypocrisy and treachery around him—his fervour for honesty, his yearning for honour and justice, and his irrational love for Célimène make him in some way a quixotic figure. 

“ALCESTE No, no, this formula you’d have me follow, 

However fashionable, is false and hollow, 

[…] 

Should you rejoice that someone fondles you, 

Offers his love and services, swears to be true, 

And fills your ears with praises of your name, 

When to the first damned flop he’ll say the same? 

No, no: no self-respecting heart would dream 

Of prizing so promiscuous an esteem; 

However high the prise, there’s nothing worse 

Than sharing honours with the universe. 

Esteem is founded on comparison: 

To honour all men is to honour none…” 

(Act 1 scene 1) 

One can’t help liking him. 

“PHILINTE Come, let’s forget the follies of the times 

And pardon mankind for its petty crimes: 

Let’s have an end of rantings and of railings, 

And show some leniency towards human failings. 

This world requires a pliant rectitude; 

Too stern a virtue makes one stiff and rude; 

Good sense views all extremes with detestation, 

And bids us to be noble in moderation…” 

(ibid.) 

Molière gives Alceste’s friend some great lines—I would guess that these lines reflect Molière’s own attitude towards humanity—but he also depicts Philinte as an insincere man—it is one thing to avoid being brutally honest and hurting someone’s feelings, it is quite a different thing to give high praise to something we know to be bad, as Philinte does with Oronte’s poem. 

The play is, up to a point, more ambiguous. Another difference between The Misanthrope and some other Molière comedies I have read is that it doesn’t have a happy ending—in fact, the ending is troubling—as my friend Himadri puts it, Alceste is on the path towards becoming Gulliver. 

Both are great plays, and I enjoyed Wilbur’s translation. 

The Changeling, a great play by Thomas Middleton and William Rowley

1/ The play premiered in 1622. I was quite surprised to come across a reference to A Midsummer Night’s Dream: 

“FRANCISCUS Hail, bright Titania! 

Why stand’st thou idle on these flow’ry banks? 

Oberon is dancing with his Dryades; 

I’ll gather daisies, primrose, violets, 

And bind them in a verse of poesy.” 

(Act 3 scene 3) 

Didn’t expect that. 

2/ There are two (not quite parallel) plots that later converge. 

The main plot starts with a forced marriage, like Women Beware Women: Beatrice-Joanna is in love with Alsemero but forced by her father Vermandero to marry Alonzo de Piracquo.  

In the subplot, Alibius, a jealous doctor, imprisons his beautiful wife Isabella in the house for fear of losing her, as Leantio does with Bianca in Women Beware Women. He tells his servant Lollio to keep watch on Isabella. 

“LOLLIO I’ll do my best, sir, yet surely I cannot see who you should have cause to be jealous of.

ALIBIUS Thy reason for that, Lollio? ’Tis a comfortable question. 

LOLLIO We have but two sorts of people in the house, and both under the whip, that’s fools and madmen; the one has not wit enough to be knaves, and the other not knavery enough to be fools.” 

(Act 1 scene 2) 

It is a madhouse—fools and madmen are those we now call the mentally disabled and the mentally ill. There are however two counterfeits—Franciscus and Antonio pretend to be a madman and a fool in order to enter the house, as they’re in love with Isabella. Lollio is also horny for her. 

“ISABELLA […] would a woman stray, 

She need not gad abroad to seek her sin, 

It would be brought home one way or other; 

The needle’s point will to the fixed north, 

Such drawing arctics women’s beauties are.” 

(Act 3 scene 3) 

3/ In the main plot, De Flores, an ugly servant, is obsessed with Beatrice-Joanna (“Dog-face” she calls him). When he sees her with Alsemero despite her engagement to Alonzo, he thinks: 

“DE FLORES I have watch’d this meeting and do wonder much 

What shall become of tother; I’m sure both 

Cannot be serv’d unless she transgress, happily 

Then I’ll put in for one; for if a woman 

Fly from one point, from him she makes a husband, 

She spreads and mounts then like arithmetic, 

One, ten, a hundred, a thousand, ten thousand, 

Proves in time sutler to an army royal…” 

(Act 2 scene 2) 

What a disgusting man.

Beatrice-Joanna is in a pickle—she loves a man but her father forces her to marry another—not knowing how to get out of the marriage, she decides to hire De Flores to kill Alonzo, and once “Dog-face” gets the money and runs away, she will be rid of “two inveterate loathings” at once—I mean, what is she even thinking? 

The scene of De Flores speaking to Beatrice-Joanna after the deed is done is a fantastic scene: 

“DE FLORES Do you place me in the rank of verminous fellows, 

To destroy things for wages? Offer gold? 

The life blood of man! Is anything 

Valued too precious for my recompense?” 

(Act 3 scene 4) 

No, not money—he wants her virginity. 

“BEATRICE Why, ’tis impossible thou canst be so wicked, 

Or shelter such a cunning cruelty, 

To make his death the murderer of my honour! 

Thy language is so bold and vicious, 

I cannot see which way I can forgive it 

With any modesty. 

DE FLORES Push, you forget yourself! 

A woman dipp’d in blood, and talk of modesty? 

[…] 

DE FLORES Look but into your conscience, read me there,

’Tis a true book, you’ll find me there your equal…” 

(ibid.) 

An excellent scene—it must be one of the greatest scenes in 17th century English drama—and I think The Changeling is one of the greatest plays I’ve read, because of the twisted relationship between Beatrice-Joanna and De Flores. It disgusts, but it also fascinates. Other plays from the same period also paint violence, also depict depravity, also portray evil, but the relationship between these two characters is more bizarre and perplexing—Beatrice-Joanna goes from loathing De Flores to being under his power, to being sexually drawn to him, to, in a way, even loving him—it is therefore more fascinating. Beatrice-Joanna especially is a great character, a complex character. She is wicked, but at the same time her attraction, or attachment, to De Flores, despite his ugliness and despite her feelings for Alsemero, makes her appear helpless as it’s something beyond her control.   

And the bed trick? It’s even more twisted than the ones in Measure for Measure and All’s Well that Ends Well. 

4/ I also like that the main plot is a tragedy and the subplot is a comedy—it is audacious—and it works very well. 

A masterpiece. 

Judi Dench on why she loves Shakespeare so much

From Shakespeare: The Man Who Pays the Rent: 

“Shakespeare is an international language, a beacon for humanity, and a bridge across cultures. His writing encompasses the minutiae of everyday life. When you come to do the plays you often recognise something that you’ve never been able to articulate. He’s able to express what it is to be human in the most concise way: ‘Nought’s had, all’s spent, / Where our desire is got without content.’ It’s all you need, it’s so spare – the gift of being able to convey so much with so little.

And his iambic pentameter – the rhythm of it is so to do with … now, you see, the hairs on my arm are standing on end. De-dum, de-dum, de-dum. It’s the rhythm of life, the beating of your heart. I know that sounds effete, but nevertheless it’s so primal.

There’s something for everybody in Shakespeare. Everything you have felt or are yet to feel is all in there in his plays: oppression, ambition, loneliness, remorse, everything. If you need to understand jealousy, read Othello or The Winter’s Tale; if you’re in love, listen to Romeo and Juliet.

When I was at my lowest during the pandemic I kept thinking of Richard II’s line: ‘I wasted Time, and now doth Time waste me.’ Shakespeare has examined every single emotion. His writing has the capacity to make us feel less alone.”

If you like Judi Dench (who doesn’t?), this is a delightful book. I like that she doesn’t only talk about acting and tell behind-the-scenes stories, but also comments on the plays and the characters and you can see her love of Shakespeare shine through. See my Twitter thread here (or if you don’t have an account, read it here instead). 

Her performance shapes my interpretation of Lady Macbeth. 

Women Beware Women by Thomas Middleton

1/ The play begins with an elopement between the poor Leantio and the rich Bianca. The scene that follows has one of Shakespeare’s favourite themes: forced marriage. Fabritio wants his daughter Isabella to marry a rich fool, simply called the Ward in the play. He says to Guardiano, the Ward’s guardian that “she shall love him.” 

How absurd. Isabella’s aunt Livia has to speak up: 

“LIVIA I must offend you then, if truth will do’t, 

And take my niece’s part, and call’t injustice

To force her love to one she never saw. 

Maids should both see and like; all little enough; 

If they love truly after that, ’tis well. 

Counting the time, she takes one man till death, 

That’s a hard task, I tell you…” 

(Act 1 scene 2) 

These lines are more interesting: 

“LIVIA O soft there, brother! Though you be a Justice, 

Your warrant cannot be serv’d out of your liberty; 

You may compel out of the power of a father 

Things merely harsh to a maid’s flesh and blood; 

But when you come to love, there the soil alters; 

Y’are in another country, where your laws 

Are no more set by than the cacklings 

Of geese in Rome’s great Capitol.” 

(ibid.) 

Thomas Middleton immediately subverts your expectation however. You think it’s probably going to be similar to Shakespeare’s treatment of the forced marriage vs love marriage theme, you assume Livia to be a progressive woman who stands against tyrannical fathers, but no, the story goes in another direction—Hippolito, brother of Fabritio, has incestuous feelings for Isabella, and Livia helps bring them together!—how can Isabella know and why does she believe right away that Livia is telling the truth, that she’s the product of an affair and therefore not related by blood to them? 

Having done that, Livia manipulates Leantio’s mother and brings Bianca to the Duke. You think that Jane Austen’s Emma meddles in people’s lives and turns everything upside down just out of idleness? Just look at Livia—this woman needs a hobby. 

2/ Generally, I don’t think the poetry is anywhere near as good as in The Revenger’s Tragedy (long attributed to Cyril Tourneur, now sometimes attributed to Middleton but not definitively), but once in a while, there’s some interesting imagery: 

“GUARDIANO […] it’s a witty age, 

Never were finer snares for women’s honesties

Than are devis’d in these days; no spider’s webs

Made of a daintier thread than are now practis’d

To catch love’s flesh-fly by the silver wing…” 

(Act 2 scene 2) 

He brings Bianca to the Duke for his own advancement. Why does Livia? Probably just because she can. 

“LIVIA […] ’Tis but want of use; 

Her tender modesty is sea-sick a little, 

Being not accustom’d to the breaking billow

Of woman’s wavering faith, blown with temptations. 

’Tis but a qualm of honour, ’twill away; 

A little bitter for the time, but lasts not. 

Sin tastes at the first draught like wormwood water, 

But, drunk again, ’tis nectar ever after.” 

(ibid.) 

3/ I can’t help noticing that most of the non-Shakespearean plays I’ve read from 1580s-1630s present a much darker, more cynical view of humanity and make me feel disgusted with the characters. Only a couple of Shakespeare’s plays have a similar effect, such as The Merchant of Venice or Troilus and Cressida; the majority give one the impression that he loves people and loves humanity. The others—Thomas Kyd, Christopher Marlowe, John Webster, John Ford, Thomas Middleton—depict a rotten world in which human beings are bestial and repulsive. There’s not enough light, so to speak. The bad are monstrous and numerous, the good get destroyed. 

In Women Beware Women, Fabritio forces his own daughter Isabella to marry an idiot for money and advancement; her aunt Livia tells her a false tale and Isabella has an incestuous affair with her own uncle Hippolito but carries on with her marriage to the Ward; Livia again acts as a bawd, bringing Bianca to the Duke; Bianca, having “forsook friends, fortunes, and [her] country” in order to marry the poor Leantio, now cheats on him and changes her tune, insults the husband’s family for their poverty and brazenly becomes the Duke’s mistress; the Duke is a bastard who covets someone else’s wife, but Leantio isn’t a good man either, as he more or less imprisoned Bianca in the house because “The jewel is cas’d up from all mens’ eyes”; Leantio later also has an affair with Livia; and the play ends with a bloody party (perhaps inspired by The Spanish Tragedy). 

The final scene is spectacular. 

“HIPPOLITO […] Vengeance met Vengeance, 

Like a set match, as if the plague of sin 

Had been agreed to meet here altogether…” 

(Act 5 scene 2) 

Livia is a striking character, a psychopath, one of the most villainous women I have come across in fiction—the other characters in the play commit sin because of lust or greed—Livia does all these things just because she can. 

Funnily enough: 

“BIANCA […] O the deadly snares 

That women set for women, without pity 

Either to soul or honour! Learn by me 

To know your foes. In this belief I die: 

Like our own sex, we have no enemy, no enemy!” 

(ibid.) 

I mean, sure, Livia ensnares Isabella and Bianca, but do they not have agency? Do they not have free will? Nobody forces them to have an affair and deceive others. 

Everybody in the play, except for the Lord Cardinal, is rotten to the core. The character of Livia is fascinating and memorable, but it’s a repulsive play.    

Hamlet (2009), ft. David Tennant

Directed by Gregory Doran (who did my favourite version of The Winter’s Tale), this is in some ways a strong production. There are some interesting choices and there are some questionable choices. Let me gather my thoughts. 

Firstly, it is set in modern day and there are CCTVs everywhere. Like Robert Icke later does in the 2018 version (with Andrew Scott), Gregory Doran also emphasises the surveillance theme of the play. Sometimes it works well, often it feels gimmicky, but I’m afraid that the CCTVs only create more questions: does it not get anyone’s attention that at some point Marcellus, Francisco, Barnardo, and Horatio run around in fear and wonder, clearly speaking to something unseen?

Secondly, I don’t like the casting of Patrick Stewart for both the Ghost and Claudius. Some of you may tell me that this doubling is nothing new and some reviewers have said it’s sometimes done, but why then does Hamlet ask Gertrude “Have you eyes?”? Why then does he say that Claudius is “no more like my father/ Than I to Hercules”? And more importantly, how are we to feel about Gertrude, if she moves on from her dead husband to his brother, who looks just like him? It’s interesting however that Patrick Stewart plays the Ghost as stiff and stern—cold even—indeed, what does it say about the relationship between Hamlet and his father that when the Ghost appears, there are no words of love, only calls for revenge? Hamlet has to avenge the murder of a father with whom he didn’t have a close, loving relationship. 

Thirdly, I don’t like Patrick Stewart as Claudius. He softens the character. The production removes some of the more insulting lines in the wedding scene: 

“KING It shows a will most incorrect to heaven, 

A heart unfortified, a mind impatient, 

An understanding simple and unschooled.” 

(Act 1 scene 2)

Imagine how insulting these lines are to someone such as Hamlet. In front of the whole court! Claudius aims to sting and Shakespeare lets us see from the very first scene that he is cunning and subtle. But Gregory Doran cuts these lines, and Patrick Stewart’s performance as a whole softens the character. It is one thing to play Claudius as even-tempered, but is this really a man who murders his own brother, usurps the throne, marries his brother’s widow, sets others to spy on his nephew then plots to have him killed, takes advantage of a courtier’s death to manipulate the son into being his pawn, and so on? I don’t buy it. 

Someone has called it a nuanced performance but I don’t think so—a nuanced performance is one that shows Claudius as a ruthless man but also a good king and an adoring husband—the best Claudius I have seen so far is Robert Shaw.  

I do think David Tennant is very good as Hamlet however. The best Hamlet I have seen is still Kevin Kline, who conveys better something of “the sweet prince” that Hamlet once was, but David Tennant does convey very well the intensity and volatility and sardonic wit of the character, and also some vulnerability—it is much better than the performance of Andrew Scott, who plays Hamlet like a psychopath that anyone would want to remove from court. 

Penny Downie is also very good as Gertrude, playing her as a tragic character, and I like Oliver Ford Davies as Polonius.

What about the ending? 

“KING Gertrude, do not drink. 

QUEEN I will, my lord; I pray you pardon me.” 

(Act 5 scene 2)  

There are different ways of playing this moment. Gertrude may carelessly drink from the cup, too absorbed in the duel to notice. Or Gertrude may know the cup to be poisoned, and deliberately drink from it, as Juliet Stevenson does in the 2018 production. Or she may have a little pause, think, and then drink from it, which is what Penny Downie does here, and I think it works very well. 

One interesting thing Patrick Stewart does, which I don’t see in other version of Hamlet, is that at the end he shrugs and drinks from the poisoned cup himself. It adds something tragic to the character. But at the same time, the consequence is that it makes Hamlet even more passive—for the entire story, Hamlet doesn’t take any action (apart from staging the play wherein he catches the conscience of the king), and at the very end, he only slashes at Claudius’s hand—admittedly the sword is envenomed, but he still appears less active as he hands over the cup to Claudius and the King drinks it himself. 

Not the best rendition, but interesting and worth watching. 

Brief thoughts on Roman Polanski’s Macbeth

The trouble with Macbeth, I think, is that it’s such an exciting play—full of plot and action—that people sometimes seem to forget that the greatness of the play is in the happenings in the minds of the Macbeths. The clearest example is Kurosawa’s loose adaptation Throne of Blood, enjoyable enough but stripped off the characters’ thoughts, stripped off all depth and complexity. Roman Polanski’s film also seems to focus more on the external violence—it is bloody, full of graphic violence (and nudity)—if not for Jon Finch. I have seen Jon Finch as Henry IV in the BBC Television Shakespeare and he’s so much like a Shakespearean actor, so much better than Michael Fassbender (who doesn’t know how to speak the lines) and Denzel Washington, that I didn’t realise till after watching the film that it was the first time he did Shakespeare. You see him tempted by the witches; you see him struggle before and after the deed; you see him slowly lose his soul as he's in blood stepped in so far; you see that by the end, to him life’s a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing. 

The problem with the film though is that Francesca Annis is a weak Lady Macbeth. When you see different versions of Macbeth, you might sometimes wonder if Lady Macbeth’s descent into madness could be abrupt—some people think perhaps the text is cut and we’ve lost a scene or two—but Trevor Nunn’s production demonstrates that there is nothing wrong with the pacing or structure, as Judi Dench shows from the very beginning that Lady Macbeth is more vulnerable than she thinks, that she has started to crack much earlier, so her descent into madness comes as no surprise. That abruptness is in Joel Coen’s film, as Frances McDormand is so evil, so unmoved at the beginning and doesn’t show the gradual change. Orson Welles and Kurosawa solve “the problem” by making some changes and creating a reason to explain Lady Macbeth’s shock and insanity. Francesca Annis doesn’t play Lady Macbeth as evil like Frances McDormand, but her insanity also seems abrupt because we don’t quite see her conflict, her struggle, her vulnerability. 

There are also some questionable choices. Why have the Macbeths discuss killing Duncan at the party, in front of everybody? Why depict so much nudity? Why do we need to see a completely naked young boy (Macduff’s son)? Why depict Macbeth and Macduff fight in front of everybody like it’s a spectacle, like they are gladiators? Not to mention the ending?  

I also wonder if the Manson Family’s murder of Polanski’s wife Sharon Tate in 1969 had any impact on his mind and his vision for Macbeth—the film came out in 1971—not only because the film is so bloody and violent, but also because Macbeth’s death is depicted in such a cynical way and doesn’t seem tragic. 

Overall, it’s still worth seeing, for Jon Finch (unless you boycott Roman Polanski’s films, which is perfectly understandable). It’s also an interesting approach.   

On Trevor Nunn’s production (Ian McKellen – Judi Dench). 

On Joel Coen’s film. 

On Orson Welles’s film. 

On Throne of Blood. 

Addendum on 20/5: I forgot that I saw the Ralph Fiennes version onstage, which I wrote about here and here. 

Some Shakespearean performances I wish to have seen

As I have been reading Judi Dench’s Shakespeare: The Man Who Pays the Rent (a very enjoyable read) and just updated my list of favourite Shakespearean performances, here’s a shortlist of performances I wish to have seen:

• 17th century: 

Richard Burbage as Hamlet, Othello, Macbeth (obviously, he worked directly with our man) 

• 18th century: 

Sarah Siddons as Lady Macbeth (because William Hazlitt calls her “Tragedy personified” and this is her most famous role) 

• 19th century: 

Ellen Terry as Lady Macbeth (I mean, have you seen Sargent’s painting? I’ve also seen the dress in person) 

Sarah Siddons as Hermione (because of some commentaries I’ve read in The Winter’s Tale Casebook)  

• 20th century: 

Vivien Leigh as Lady Macbeth (I’m curious about her performance) and Cleopatra (come on, she must have been great in the role) 

Diana Rigg as Lady Macbeth (the best Regan I have seen, she would have been great as Lady Macbeth) 

Ralph Richardson as Falstaff (he’s part of the trinity, and extraordinary in everything I’ve seen) 

Judi Dench as Gertrude with Daniel Day-Lewis as Hamlet (come on, that sounds amazing, I also like Judi Dench’s analysis of Gertrude and the play) 

Judi Dench as Isabella (I like her comments on the character) 

• 21st century: 

Frances Barber as Cleopatra (she is Cleopatra, I have heard her on audio and wish I had seen her onstage) 

Give me your list.