Mad world, mad kings, mad composition!

Ian McKellen as the "Bastard" Philip Faulconbridge

Where King Lear's Edmund was Chaotic Neutral at best, King John's "Bastard" is Chaotic Good at worst. The advantage of being illegitimate in a world of monarchic illegitimacy is that you're not born into a mould of pre-destined loyalty. You get to choose sides. And that side may simply be yourself. You choose the square on the alignment matrix that best suits your ambitions.

Philip Faulconbridge, re-dubbed Sir Richard Plantagenet by King John when Lady Faulconbridge admits to an affair with Richard Coeur-de-Lion, is some kind of hero. He's essentially Tony Stark--the guy who knows how to use "commodity" and his own intellect to his advantage, as well as to the advantage of the country he holds dear. Like Tony, he is cynical about how the world works, but still holds up loyalty, truth, and justice as the ideal paradigm for how he executes his powers. Unbeholden to anyone unless his experience of them proves their worthiness, the Bastard is a fresh contrast to the stuffy kings and advisors that populate the rest of the play with their stiff allegiances.

His famously insightful soliloquy on "commodity" and politics appears early in the play, proving that this kid's quick on the uptake. He has a bright future because he clearly recognizes how the system works without kidding himself. This speech begins as a righteous Jon Stewart-esque rant and ends with an epiphany. He gains the resolve to navigate the thorny world and still pick the fruits from the vines.


King John, Act II, Sc. I

Bastard: Mad world! mad kings! mad composition! 

John, to stop Arthur's title in the whole, 

Hath willingly departed with a part, 

And France, whose armour conscience buckled on, 

Whom zeal and charity brought to the field

As God's own soldier, rounded in the ear 

With that same purpose-changer, that sly devil, 

That broker, that still breaks the pate of faith, 

That daily break-vow, he that wins of all, 

Of kings, of beggars, old men, young men, maids,

Who, having no external thing to lose 

But the word 'maid,' cheats the poor maid of that, 

That smooth-faced gentleman, tickling Commodity, 

Commodity, the bias of the world, 

The world, who of itself is peised well,

Made to run even upon even ground, 

Till this advantage, this vile-drawing bias, 

This sway of motion, this Commodity, 

Makes it take head from all indifferency, 

From all direction, purpose, course, intent:

And this same bias, this Commodity, 

This bawd, this broker, this all-changing word, 

Clapp'd on the outward eye of fickle France, 

Hath drawn him from his own determined aid, 

From a resolved and honourable war,

To a most base and vile-concluded peace. 

And why rail I on this Commodity? 

But for because he hath not woo'd me yet: 

Not that I have the power to clutch my hand, 

When his fair angels would salute my palm;

But for my hand, as unattempted yet, 

Like a poor beggar, raileth on the rich. 

Well, whiles I am a beggar, I will rail 

And say there is no sin but to be rich; 

And being rich, my virtue then shall be

To say there is no vice but beggary. 

Since kings break faith upon commodity, 

Gain, be my lord, for I will worship thee.

Your most grave belly was deliberate

Judi Dench as Volumnia, Sir Ken as Coriolanus--what I wouldn't have given to have seen this.

Whether you love or loathe election politics (or politics in general), Coriolanus is for you! Like Julius Caesar, it's got universal commentary on democratic republics and all the idealism and cynicism that comes with it. But unlike its more famous cousin, Coriolanus' old men are more meddling than murdering, and the ladies are more manipulative than meek. It's gray with more realism rather than black and white with portents and dreams, which is why it ended up surprising me by becoming one of my favorite plays. This was helped by my viewing of the frankly excellent modern film adaptation recently made by Ralph Fiennes, who plays the titular character, along with Gerard Butler as his frenemy Aufidius. Definitely check that one out ;)

Now, I fall more into the "disinterested center" Jon Stewart likes to say he represents in the political sphere, but yet this story of an outraged, poor citizenry being handily swayed by Roman tribunes and senators via the noble, but socially awkward army general who refuses to be a mouthpiece or play the hypocrisy game really piqued my interest. 

Coriolanus is strong both in body and mind, despises the cowardice of the common people, and believes he deserves praise and high office for his battle achievements without having to grovel to the people he sees as animals. His arch nemesis, aka, "a lion that I [Coriolanus] am proud to hunt," is the equally renowned Aufidius, general of the Volscian army. Aufidius deeply respects Coriolanus (who keeps beating him in single combat) and is possibly the only man Coriolanus truly admires--other than himself, of course.

At his back and biting his neck is Volumnia, Coriolanus' ball-busting mother. She is proud of her son's bloody occupation and shows off his scars. She scoffs at his doting wife's wishes to see him safe at home rather than achieving glory in battle. She knows all his stops and plays him up and down, shoving him into the political ring where he can gain even more renown.

At the start of the play, we meet the good-natured and beloved Menenius, a patrician friend of Coriolanus. He doesn't have deep love for the public either, but his skills playing politics are well-honed.  With the speech I have chosen, he quashes a riot that has broken out over distribution of food in the city. It's reminiscent of language in Caesar and especially Titus Andronicus, which constantly refer to Rome as a body, whose parts don't always manage to work in sync (or get lopped off). Likening the senate to the belly, he calms his "incorporate friends"--the outlying appendages made up of commoners--by explaining the fitness of their political digestive system:

Coriolanus, Act I, Sc. I
Menenius: Your most grave belly was deliberate, 
Not rash like his accusers, and thus answer'd:
"True is it, my incorporate friends," quoth he, 
"That I receive the general food at first, 
Which you do live upon; and fit it is. 
Because I am the store-house and the shop 
Of the whole body: but, if you do remember, 
I send it through the rivers of your blood. 
Even to the court, the heart, to the seat o' the brain;
And, through the cranks and offices of man, 
The strongest nerves and most inferior veins
From me receive that natural competency 
Whereby they live: and though that all at once"--
You, my good friends, this says the belly, mark me...

"Though all at once cannot 
See what I deliver out to each. 
Yet I can make my audit up, that all 
From me do back receive the flour of all, 
And leave me but the bran."