Hear my soul speak

Miranda likes a log-bearing man

The holidays are upon us, which means that a scant few long weeks separate me and my fiancé from meeting again. Therefore, it's high time we come up with another speech to share in recitation. At first, I was overwhelmed with the possibilities, and flipped through my overly highlighted Complete Works for something outside of a soliloquy.

Lightbulb! One of Jamie's favorite plays is The Tempest, and what romance is there to be had in that piece but the at-first-sight kind? I scanned through the pages, vaguely remembering a scene where the two serendipitous lovers meet over a back-breaking chore in the wilderness. Miranda, who has shared her father Prospero's island exile, has never seen another man in all her life. With the undercover help of Ariel under orders from Prospero, she "discovers"  Ferdinand, the handsome young Prince of Naples, and instantly falls in love. When she sees him toiling with the chore thrust upon him by her father, she offers to help, and then proposes marriage. He accepts of course, because sometimes, this is how these things work out. I can vouch for that.

When I read my chosen passage to Jamie, his jaw dropped with how appropriate it was for us. It's a lover arriving on an island to unexpectedly meet their perfect match. If only marriage were so easily conducted as it is on Prospero's island, which doesn't have the benefit of Homeland Security and immigration visas. But Prospero wants the couple to value their relationship, and throws up obstacles to their partnership for a little while (like Uncle Sam). In the end it all works out, however, so worry not. The lovers shall be united (eventually)!


FERDINAND

... Hear my soul speak:
The very instant that I saw you, did
My heart fly to your service; there resides,
To make me slave to it; and for your sake
Am I this patient log--man.

MIRANDA

Do you love me?

FERDINAND

O heaven, O earth, bear witness to this sound
And crown what I profess with kind event
If I speak true! if hollowly, invert
What best is boded me to mischief! I
Beyond all limit of what else i' the world
Do love, prize, honour you.

MIRANDA

I am a fool
To weep at what I am glad of.

PROSPERO

Fair encounter
Of two most rare affections! Heavens rain grace
On that which breeds between 'em!

FERDINAND

Wherefore weep you?

MIRANDA

At mine unworthiness that dare not offer
What I desire to give, and much less take
What I shall die to want. But this is trifling;
And all the more it seeks to hide itself,
The bigger bulk it shows. Hence, bashful cunning!
And prompt me, plain and holy innocence!
I am your wife, if you will marry me;
If not, I'll die your maid: to be your fellow
You may deny me; but I'll be your servant,
Whether you will or no.

FERDINAND

My mistress, dearest;
And I thus humble ever.

MIRANDA

My husband, then?

FERDINAND

Ay, with a heart as willing
As bondage e'er of freedom: here's my hand.

MIRANDA

And mine, with my heart in't ...

Continual plodders

The Bard constantly colors my world

So Jamie's first trip to America was a series of milestones in both of our lives. It's all been so joyous that our hearts, notwithstanding their capacity, receiveth as the sea, and we can barely comprehend our own happiness. Long story short, by the time we actually finally recited that Romeo and Juliet sonnet together (live and in person!), we were engaged.

*SQUEE*

I immediately conjured Shakespearean lines in my mind for use in my future wedding vows:

What worthy blessing can be

but our imaginations may make it ours?

And being here thus together, 

we are an endless mine to one another...

Context alert: Ok, sure it's from The Two Noble Kinsmen and it's a dude talking to his male cousin about being together in prison for the remainder of their lives only seconds before a woman walks onto the stage and causes them to quarrel like rutting stags, but it sounds romantic lifted out of the speech, ALRIGHT?

Anyhoo...

Our parting was sickly sweet sorrow (how intimately I understand that line now!). So, I decided to mark the countdown until our next reunion on Christmas Eve by rehashing my current list of 47 speeches every day. Well, nearly every day, since the countdown began with 64 days, so I've taken some weekends off. However, I'm right on target to do some serious recitations on a consistent basis. 

In plodding away, I've found that I've reached a new plateau with the memory skills. Most every line I practice comes out faster and with more confidence than ever before. It feels almost effortless, but that's what over 17 months of constant exposure will do for you! 

I concentrate on one speech every night, reciting it to myself just before bed, then several times in the car on the way to work. Any given speech trips off my lips at least ten times in 24 hours. I also double back whenever I'm in an especially good mood, and practice that week's past speeches. 

The effect it's had on my understanding of rhythm and language is beyond my measure, and the familiarity truly brings new insight into the written and spoken word. I encounter prose, lyrics, and poetry so differently now. I notice the structure and nuance of everything I read and hear far more clearly, and it shapes my personal compositions in definitive ways. 

It has been most rewarding to continue this project. Though I don't post as often as I used to, I promise that these words and images have profoundly colored my daily mindscape. It's always folding around my thoughts, always making me grateful that I pushed myself to start this journey, as it has enriched my life in ways I never could have imagined.

Continual plodders ever won...

You kiss by the book

Sonnets are a girl's best friend

My dear lover, body and soul, has of late importuned me with love in Shakespearean fashion... meaning, he's sent me emails full of poetry. Appropriately, a few of them have been Elizabethan sonnets, which, as all the boys should know, are still a surefire means of winning any girl's heart. Or at least a girl whose hobby is memorizing Hamlet and King Henry V and Much Ado About Nothing and what-not.

But he has also been bugging me (in the most delicate and nerdy ways possible) to join him in memorizing some more Romeo and Juliet. The first fourteen lines the titular characters speak to each other form a sonnet, and represent a most romantic (if not ultimately auspicious) meeting of souls. It's a semi-cheeky dance of phrasing and it speaks to both of these kids' abilities to charm and evade with nought but words. Comparing Juliet to a holy shrine, Romeo implores she grace his "unworthy" lips with a touch of hers, so that he, the pilgrim, be blessed. She is convinced, eventually, and sin is purged by their pure kisses.

So yeah, OF COURSE I'd love to add this to my repertoire! If only because it would be our repertoire in the end, which will probably grow as time progresses. Given our mutual adoration of all things Shakespeare (and many other beautifully geeky things), I anticipate the day we recite this to each other will be exciting enough that it will inspire us to continue the tradition. Possibly with some Macbeth, and definitely some Benedick and Beatrice banter. Oh, the possibilities.



Romeo and Juliet, Act I Sc. V

ROMEO	[To JULIET] If I profane with my unworthiest hand
	This holy shrine, the gentle sin is this:
	My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand
	To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.
JULIET	Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much,
	Which mannerly devotion shows in this;
	For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch,
	And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss.
ROMEO	Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?
JULIET	Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.
ROMEO	O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do;
	They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.
JULIET	Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake.
ROMEO	Then move not, while my prayer's effect I take. (kisses her)
	Thus from my lips, by yours, my sin is purged.
JULIET	Then have my lips the sin that they have took.
ROMEO	Sin from my lips? O trespass sweetly urged!
	Give me my sin again. (they kiss)
JULIET	You kiss by the book.

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.

Full of sound and fury

Macbeth hath murdered my sleep

Newcastle. Evening. Tyneside Cinema.
The tiny lobby is packed with folks of all ages, all politely awaiting the cue to queue into the theatre for the sold-out broadcast. When the time comes, my friends and I file past the signs for upcoming films ("The World's End is playing in the UK already? We have to go see it next week!") and find our seats in the front row. Refreshments are being sold in the theatre proper--pop and beer and "cinema-sized" ice creams. I get a Blue Moon and have a seat.

The room is packed, but far more calm than I would expect from a similar screening back in the states. The program is filled with future Shakespearean fare: a modern-day interpretation of Othello, Tom Hiddleston as Coriolanus, encore screenings of Rory Kinnear's Hamlet. I sip my beer and settle in.

An NT representative lady appears on the screen and says it's ok to clap after the showing, because even though the stage actors in Manchester cannot hear us, they can feel the spirit of our appreciation. This gets a laugh from most of the audience behind me, which I find strange; back home, I've seen several plain old film screenings like The Avengers or The Hobbit where people would clap prompted by nothing more than their profound enjoyment.

After the lady interviews the co-director, Rob Ashford, and he fawns over Sir Ken's prowess, the production begins. There are unseen cameras positioned everywhere in the deconsecrated church where the play is housed--it seems as many as you tend to see floating and angling around stadiums during major American football games on ESPN. It affords a very intimate and satisfying view of all the proceedings.

The weird sisters appear, and a rainy, muddy battle begins. All the scenes play out in the slippery grime, staining clothes and shoes and robbing the actors of perfectly graceful strides. The mud enhances the visceral, earthy feel of Macbeth, showcasing the truly ancient and pagan nature of this play's dark and violent themes.

Sir Ken's Macbeth is clearly good-hearted and humble at the start. He and Banquo are genuinely startled by the sister's prophecies. When Alex Kingston's Lady Macbeth reads her husband's letter, she is joyous and enthusiastic on every level, and the dark starts to creep in. After seeing Macbeth in battle, and seeing his wife declare her ambitions, you eagerly anticipate the moment he reappears and they embrace for the first time. The reunion scene is crackling with sexual tension.

The scenes fly by quickly, with no pause between them whatsoever. The overall feeling of the production is one of the "vaulting ambition" o'erleaping itself, but it never falters and falls. It sprints forward, and while you feel Macbeth's sense of being rushed, you as the onlooker can still keep up just fine. The soliloquies that are traditionally slowed so the audience can rubberneck would be almost glossed over if it weren't for the gravitas the actors give them.

The following scenes struck me the most:

1) When Macbeth sees the dagger before him, at first, it is simply light from the cross-shaped window falling on the ground, stretched and distorted by its sharp angle, throwing a giant bright sword on the mud.
2) After Macbeth is crowned, he presents himself as confident and regal, and sends Banquo off with all the friendliness their relationship deserves. But as soon as everyone leaves the stage but Macbeth, he goes through his "barren sceptre" speech with paranoia and urgency, then curls up in the throne under his cape, childlike and fearful.
3) In the sleepwalking scene, Alex Kingston appears to be channelling the weird sisters in flashes and starts, lending an especially disturbing supernatural possession to her condition.
4) Macduff's "All my pretty chickens" scene is heartbreakingly delivered by Ray Fearon, with an intensity that approaches, if not equals, even Sir Ken's performance.
5) Macbeth's "Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow" speech always seems to read with a catatonic shock, and I've seen some movies and clips where it's delivered with a steady low affect and monotone voice. Sir Ken begins it that way, but halfway through, he breaks down entirely, weeping and dripping with tears and snot. He is barely able to finish the last line with any kind of audible voice, and you completely believe that he's still a good man deep inside, simply and tragically grieving for his beloved wife.

Some other fascinating points include:

1) The weird sisters appear even when they have no lines or don't normally show up in a scene, and their presence imparts the not-so-weird idea that they have a lot more control of the entire drama than expected.
2) The same actor who plays Duncan later plays Seyton, Macbeth's assistant/military officer.
3) The "cauldron" that Macbeth sees when he revisits the sisters is made up of actors on the ground, shaking a giant round sheet, out of which the sons of Banquo emerge and walk past Macbeth in zombie-like fashion.
4) Alex Vlahos, who deftly plays Malcolm, was the same actor who played Mordred on the BBC's series Merlin. It was fun to see him pop up!
5) Patrick Doyle's score, as usual, sneaks in and heightens the mood of every scene with that skillful subtlety that you barely know the music is there. Awesome.

In the end, you get a very highly anticipated Macbeth/Macduff battle. When Macduff reveals the truth about his birth, Macbeth visibly loses his shit, and musters all the remaining energy he has toward going down with a fight.

Clocking in at just over two hours, this Macbeth was a whirlwind of solidly magnetic characters and fierce action. The eerie setting as well as several intriguing individual performance choices at key moments made the play feel as fresh as if it were written yesterday... as it should be with Shakespeare. It should never feel static and dry, which is something that even Joss Whedon's lovingly re-imagined Much Ado About Nothing suffered from at times. More on that next week, though.

If you get the chance to see an encore screening of Macbeth (or if this NT Live production gets released on DVD) definitely treat yourself to some high quality Shakespeare!

His virtues will plead like angels

Sir Kenneth Branagh in the current Manchester stage production of Macbeth

Every summer, I split town/state/country for a couple weeks so I can take a break from my beloved Floridian monsoon season and from my own brain. For the last three years, I've been working on three scifi novels, the bulk of which is written in a creative frenzy during the eight weeks of summer vacation my school job affords me. It's a beautiful thing. But it can make you go a little nutter after a while.

This year, I'm heading back to Brooklyn to be warmed in the bosom of my friends and the wonders of New York City. The last time I was there, I experienced Sleep No More--NYC's ongoing interactive performance of Macbeth. I mentioned it before, but it bears reassurance that it is one of the MOST THRILLING WAYS TO ENCOUNTER SHAKESPEARE EVER. I spent the entire evening running around in a dark, creepy hotel with my dear friend and a bunch of athletic actors silently portraying the physicality of deep dark human emotions associated with The Scottish Play. Seriously, it was worth every cent of the $100+ I spent. We audience members had to wear masks and we could not speak the entire three hours. We were free to wander the floors and throng behind Lady Macbeth to her bathtub or help the witches put their clothes back on. There was blood and gore and moving trees and dancing and cocktails. Unforgettable.

Last summer was also my personal Shakespeare revival of sorts. I was close to my goal of reading every word of Shakespeare at the time, and I was primed for finally tasting the fruits of Sir Kenneth Branagh's films. I caught up very quickly and soon realized that he was the perfect object for my fangirlish predilections. It was love at first soliloquy.

This summer, having polished my Shakespeare/Branagh appreciation to a glistening shine, I am hyper keen for my second trip back to the UK. Last month, in between Skype sessions with my Newcastle friends to plan our jaunt to Dublin, National Theatre Live made a very exciting announcement. On July 20th, they would broadcast Manchester International Festival's highly anticipated stage production of Macbeth throughout the UK. It stars Sir Ken and Alex Kingston (from Doctor Who!). Its Branagh's first Shakespearean role in ten years.

I thought to myself, OMG I will be in the UK on July 20th. 

My brain/ovaries proceeded to explode. The weird sisters themselves couldn't have predicted a more fortuitous situation.

Not too long after the announcement, tickets went on sale at midnight UK time, which was only 7 pm my time, so I was awake and ready to grab front-row seats at the Tyneside Cinema. 

So, just days from catching my flight out of my world and my mind, I have decided to take up this famous speech in honor of Macbeth, the Bard, Sir Ken, and my most loyal and understanding friends who have gamely indulged my nerdiest desires. Macbeth, two ways, two cities, two intense interpretaions. Excuse my *SQUEEEE*

Analysis and ruminations will have to wait until after I return from my voyages. See y'all in a few weeks!

Macbeth, Act I, Sc. VII
Macbeth: If it were done when 'tis done, then 'twere well
It were done quickly: if the assassination
Could trammel up the consequence, and catch
With his surcease success; that but this blow
Might be the be-all and the end-all here,
But here, upon this bank and shoal of time,
We'ld jump the life to come. But in these cases
We still have judgment here; that we but teach
Bloody instructions, which, being taught, return
To plague the inventor: this even-handed justice
Commends the ingredients of our poison'd chalice
To our own lips. He's here in double trust;
First, as I am his kinsman and his subject,
Strong both against the deed; then, as his host,
Who should against his murderer shut the door,
Not bear the knife myself. Besides, this Duncan
Hath borne his faculties so meek, hath been
So clear in his great office, that his virtues
Will plead like angels, trumpet-tongued, against
The deep damnation of his taking-off;
And pity, like a naked new-born babe,
Striding the blast, or heaven's cherubim, horsed
Upon the sightless couriers of the air,
Shall blow the horrid deed in every eye,
That tears shall drown the wind. I have no spur
To prick the sides of my intent, but only
Vaulting ambition, which o'erleaps itself
And falls on the other.