Doth it not show vilely in me to desire small beer?

"Belike then my appetite was not princely got, for, by my

troth, I do now remember the poor creature small beer."

Shakespeare and beer are two of my most pleasurable passions. And as Hamlet says, "Oh, ’tis most sweet, When in one line two crafts directly meet." Fortunately for me, the Bard was steeped in the everyday activities and traditions of merry old England, and pub potables was one of the most prominent subjects in many of his plays. As I've come to know from deep research (i.e. personal experience in pubs), imbibing remains an essential and obligatory part of British life. Here in America, beer has enjoyed a renaissance in the last decade. Craft brews are the bee's knees, and I'm just thankful that Florida is proving a haven for such fermented artistry. 

In Shakespeare's day, ale and wine were the few beverages that were safe to consume, and it's safe to say that it wasn't as tasty as that nice IPA or hefeweizen available at an ABC Liquors. Prince Hal's "small beer" was likely a watery ale of low alcohol percentage, just enough to kill the bugs that would be in well water. It was generally made with the second or third runnings of a stronger beer's mash, such as that of a barleywine (oh boy, now THAT stuff will put hair on your chest). 

Now Falstaff's poison of choice was "sack," which is cousin to the small beer in the quality department. The sack he had access to was low-grade wine that was relatively infection-free, but tasted questionable enough that one would need to add flavor enhancements. Sir John famously says in 1 Henry IV, "If sack and sugar be a fault, God help the wicked." Sack was a fortified wine, like a sherry, and was already very sweet, so imagine how indulgent sack and sugar must've been. In The Merry Wives Of Windsor, Falstaff demands, "Go fetch me a quart of sack; put a toast in't." This request hints at the origin of "toasting" with wine: the Romans would add to their pitchers some burnt toast, whose charcoal would reduce the acidity and unpalatable flavours of slightly off vino they were used to drinking. 

Now I'm craving something far more tasty and refined to pour into my pint glasses I recently picked up at the Guinness brewery, so I'll let you go with these classic quotations. SLÁINTE/CHEERS!

“Come, come; good wine is a good familiar creature, if it be well us’d…”

Iago, “Othello,” Act II, Sc. III

“Would I were in an alehouse in London, I would give all my fame for a pot of ale and safety.”

Boy, “King Henry V,” Act III, Sc. II

“We’ll teach you to drink deep, ere you depart.”

Hamlet, “Hamlet,” Act I, Sc.II

“Come, thou monarch of the wine,

Plumpy Bacchus with pink eyne!

In thy fats our cares be drow’d,

With thy grapes our hairs be crown’d!

Cup us till the world go round,

Cup us till the world go round!”

Enobarbus, “Antony & Cleopatra,” Act II, Sc. VII

“Doth it not show vilely in me to desire small beer?”

Prince Hal, “King Henry IV, part Two,” Act II, Sc. II

“… and drink, sir, is a great provoker of three things… 
nose-painting, sleep, and urine.
Lechery, sir, it provokes, and unprovokes; it provokes 
the desire, but it takes away the performance." 

Porter, “Macbeth,” Act II, Sc. III

“With wine and feeding, we have suppler souls

Than our priest-like fasts…”

Menenius, “Coriolanus,” Act V, Sc. I

“For a quart of ale is a dish for a king.”

Autolycus, “The Winter’s Tale,” Act IV, Sc. III

“Drink a good hearty draught, it breeds good blood, man.”

Arcite, “The Two Noble Kinsmen,” Act III, Sc. III

One foot in sea and one on shore

                            "Sigh No More" as a modern pop song

It's all Shakespeare and all romance this week in my special edition commemorative post. I've returned from my multi-flight overseas journeys a changed woman, and Shakespeare had a fairly specific influence on events.

First off, I got my ass to a screening of Joss Whedon's pet project Much Ado About Nothing while I was Manhattan. It was the eve before the heat wave, and we headed to the cool Landmark Sunshine Cinema in the Lower East Side. My friends who tagged along aren't Shakespeare types, but they know me, and stuck with me, knowing molecular mixology would ensue as the evening pressed on.

Of course, I enjoyed the film overall. It was, if nothing else, a bold and creative take on the classic play. The casting was great. The Beatrice and Benedick were the heart of the story, but I found the Hero and Claudio had a slightly more engaging presence than those in Sir Ken's film version. The highlight was Nathan Fillion as Dogberry, who, having admitted to no Shakespeare experience, floated along perfectly using all his comedic skill and proved a treat to watch on screen.

I really loved the treatment of the songs in the film. Joss produced a very charming jazzy rendition of "Sigh No More" that tweaks the heart and makes you wish you had a light summery cocktail in your hand.

I'm still not sure if the choice to film in black and white helped or hindered the atmosphere of the film. It certainly gave a classy sheen to the imagery, but the modern Los Angeles setting (at Joss' home, no less) was too obvious to lend any actual sense of timelessness we like to associate with Shakespeare.

While all the actors definitely understood their lines (which is more than can be said about even one of my personal favorite Branagh films, Love's Labour's Lost), the language still felt out of time and place. That probably has more to do with the delivery than the present-day setting. All the actors were essentially shoehorning grand, flowery soliloquies and dialogues into casual, everyday cocktail-hour conversations. The acting was naturalistic, and to a fault. This film made me realize that without a certain level of pure theatricality, Shakespeare feels forced--in this case, constrained by the not-so-epic dramas of normal human beings.

This is where I both respect and disdain Joss' vision: he clearly adores the material and wants to show us that Shakespeare is relevant and current in its themes and characters, but I think it's more difficult to "modernize" comedies than most of the tragedies and histories. With something like Coriolanus or Henry V, you could easily set them in present-day war-room situations involving the already elevated theatricality of politics and issues of state and the language and reactions to events wouldn't feel too overdone. That's what politicians do anyway, so it feels truly naturalistic.

The slapstick comedies almost always feature contrivances that would never prove believable obstacles and salient plot points today. For example, in Joss' film, the idea that Claudio would mistake the maid in Hero's window for Hero herself is completely cancelled out by the fact that we were previously shown that there are security cameras all over the household. No way a modern Claudio would fall for such a transparent ploy as Don John's. If the scene didn't have such an enormous influence on the remainder of the story, it may have been easier to ignore.

In the end, there are more moments in Joss' Much Ado that entertain and seduce than there are ones that remind us of the fragility of suspended disbelief. It is definitely a pleasure for fans of Shakespeare and romance and I recommend such folks give it a go.

On that note, I would like to make a personal announcement :)

Of all the unforgettable experiences I had in the UK and Ireland with my dear friends this time around, the most unexpected (and I shall say Shakespearean) was meeting Jamie, my new favorite person in existence. In the heady midst of my first "pub crawl" with new friends in downtown Newcastle, some of the first words exchanged between us was a general SQUEE about Shakespeare. It took me 30 years and a spanning of the Atlantic Ocean to finally fall in love. Our first real date involved recitations of Hamlet and Richard III to each other, and in the back of my head, I kept thinking of Benedick and Beatrice.

I may chance have some odd quirks and remnants

of wit broken on me because I have railed so long against

marriage, but doth not the appetite alter? 

What fire is in mine ears? Can this be true?

Stand I condemned for pride and scorn so much?

Contempt, farewell, and maiden pride, adieu!

No glory lives behind the back of such.

And Benedick, love on; I will requite thee,

Taming my wild heart to thy loving hand.

Shakespeare is extremely relevant to us. It's one of many (super geeky) things that bonds me and my beau across the sea that sunders us from physical proximity, and enriches the way we experience our far-flung romance. As Helena says in "All's Well That Ends Well:"

The mightiest space in fortune nature brings
To join like likes, and kiss like native things.