Milo's Bouncy Story

Recently, Milo's school forwarded to me a link offering a parent and child team the opportunity to enter in a story writing contest chaired by Robert Munsch. The grand prize was a home visit by Munsch himself, a creepy idea if ever there was one if you ask me, but there were other prizes. Milo goes to a school in which he participates in a behavioural program. That is to say he is designated as behaviourally challenged. While his IQ is off the charts (literally - he didn't inherit that from either of his parents!), he apparently suffers from the following: "He experiences his emotions more powerfully than most and has trouble managing social situations when the experience overwhelms him." At least I know he comes by that honestly. For the most part he is simply delightful, but when one of his episodes manifests, it can be quite explosive. I was delighted to focus his attention on this creative family activity for a short while. He dictated his ideas to me and I wrote them as he stated them (for the most part) with only minor changes and edits. When we went to the website contest submission page we discovered that we had missed the submission deadline by two days. Milo was a little heart-broken so I wrote a letter to the website contact email pleading our case for a late submission. Of course, we received no response. Fortunately, as often as he can become emotional, Milo also has the ability to let minor disappointments roll off his back. The following is Milo's story.

My name is Milo. I am 8-years-old. I have six brothers and sisters: Rory, Megan, Blair, Camille, Aiden, and Lilian. Sometimes it’s hard for my Dad and Step-Mom to play with me because there are so many children to take care of. Lucky for me, we have a trampoline! All my brothers and sisters like to play on it. We play a bouncy version of Blind Man’s Bluff. One person is ‘it’ and must close their eyes. The ‘it’ person stands safely in the middle. The rest of us bounce around and try to avoid being touched. Bounce! Boing! Bounce! Bump! Tag! “You’re it!” If someone gets touched, it is their turn to close their eyes and be ‘it’. My oldest brother makes sure we are all safe and don’t get hurt. Bounce! Boing! Bounce! Bump! Thump! Tag! “You’re it, now!” My oldest sister makes us all laugh and giggle. Bounce! Boing! Bounce! Bump! Thump! Giggle! Tag! “You’re it this time!” My Dad says, “It sure is funny to see all you kids bouncing together.” It’s SO funny that sometimes he stops cooking, or cleaning, or working and comes out to bounce too. BOUNCE! BOING! BOUNCE! BUMP! THUMP! GIGGLE! GUFFAW! TAG! “YOU’RE IT, DAD!” I love the trampoline.

CHALK!

I write and I write and I write. I tap out another thesis and I acquire another grade. Alas, all too often I forget why I started doing this in the first place. But every once in a while I get an opportunity to attend some actual theatre. Ahhhh, the theatre . . . (deep breath) . . . in all its glory. And all too often I’m disappointed. But not this time. SNAFU Dance Company and William Head on Stage have produced a piece for the ages: Chalk! I’m no humanitarian, I have no taste for the avante-garde, and I’m the first to cry ‘Euro-trash!’ when I see it. But not this time. Blurring the lines between childhood folly and adult transgression, Chalk! affords the inmate performers at William Head the opportunity to live out beautiful and terrifying moments of childhood that they never had, or never escaped. I normally raise an eyebrow at how valuable applied theatre can be, but this one may have me convinced. Emotional crescendos of jubilance and pathos pepper the drawn out moments of slow and contemplative physical representation. Particularly talented was the inmate who played ‘Tuk-Took’ (who, as an actor, is required to remain anonymous for legal reasons). He hit a variety of delicate emotions with substantial virtuosity. For a piece that is ostensibly all white, the performance was saturated with colourful emotion. As a fellow grad student, Anne Cirillo is someone I usually see as merely the person with whom I share funding, but her performance was emotionally powerful from beginning to end. The piece gives fresh life to old questions without pretension; it answers none of them. Overall, it was a touch too long. It was clumsy in places, and awkward in others, but delightful through and through. Most of the audience was riveted. The rest were fidgety. Fortunately, I fell into the former category. For a piece entirely void of dialogue, I am an audience member who would normally be proned to fall asleep. But not this time. As a movement performance, I assure you, it was wholly moving.

See you in hell,
Shakes.

Seek the Source

In all lives there must fall some rain, and in every collection of stories there must be some that are inappropriate, and some that are just downright childish. If you are one of those people that is so puritanically crippled that a good fart story is offensive to you, then please stop reading now. In fact, stop reading altogether and never log on again. But I digress.

Marianne never ceases to amaze me but sometimes her Obsessive Compulsive Personality Disorder (which is admittedly only mild most of the time) manifests itself in the most ridiculous ways. After having spent the last three years in Marianne's close company, and with a family in tow, a certain inexplicable habit of hers has revealed itself in a pattern of behaviour. The other day, Blair was having one of his flatulent days at the same time that Camille and Aiden were. Everyone has days like that but Blair's tend to be particularly assaulting to the olfactory senses. Marianne once called him 'Blart'. In an open yard, the offensive aroma can be escaped but in the close confines of our family van, even opening all of the windows offers only scant relief. Earlier in the day, at the dinner table, their tummy rumblings had already become obvious, much to the destruction of everyone's appetite. Later, when we were driving along towards some family objective, the van became absolutely untenable. We rolled down the windows and gasped for fresh air. Marianne, however, began contemplating. "*sniff*sniff* You know, we had hot dogs two nights ago. *sniff*sniff* But they all have a faster metabolism than that. *sniff*sniff* Maybe it was the combination of chocolate . . . *sniff* . . . and I think, . . . *sniff* oranges, that they had yesterday." And this is not the first time she has done this. While most people smell a fart and either try to escape its foul stench, or laugh at it, Marianne seems hell-bent on discovering the source - that elusive but specific combination of foods that someone must have ingested that might have resulted in just that particular stench. When she does it, it adds a certain extra level of discomfort to the odour as one imagines the entire digestive process, simultaneously funnier and more disgusting. I don't think she does it to torture us further, but she certainly revels in her detective-like deductions. She is like the Sherlock Holmes of fart sources. 'When you eliminate the impossible foods, whatever you is left, no matter how unlikely, must be the foods that caused that fart.'

See you in hell,
Shakes.

The Truth Is Out

Marianne is an intoxicating mix of psychosis and sensuality. I was doomed from the start to fall madly in love with her. Never in my life had I been so ruthlessly and efficiently hunted by a woman who knew what she wanted. Even when she was pushing me away, retrospect causes me to be suspicious that it was all part of some master plan, meticulously devised to achieve her desired ends, and all completely unbeknownst to me. Her wildcat certainly trumped my wolf and I am humbled. And it is not just in romantic endeavours that she is a force to be reckoned with. Recently a dear friend, while surrounding a campfire with a group that stayed with us following the wedding, coined the term "Attilla the Mom" at her expense - both funny and entirely accurate. Her role in our family is indispensable and her ability to master the house only recently grounded itself in an explanation.

The kids had gotten in the habit of 'pantsing' each other. Yes, it is as it appears. It is a colloquialism in which the noun 'pants' is turned into a verb. The action entails coming up behind someone, quickly grabbing their pants at both sides and instantly tugging them down while yelling "Pantsed!" While there are occasions that it might be inappropriate, I have to admit, there have been as many occasions when I couldn't help but laugh. Especially funny is when one of the boys, often in loose-fitting pajama pants, is bouncing up and down in front of some video game, completely distracted, and facing squarely towards the television. One of the other kids gives them a dose of pantsing and usually everyone laughs, including the victim.

Eventually, however, Marianne had had enough. Nevertheless, Marianne recognizes good hilarity as much as the next person, and it was all she could do to contain her own laughter when she laid down a rule that even she knew would be impracticable to enforce. "That's it! The next person who pantses someone will have to spend the entire next day naked, even if we go out shopping or you have to go to school!" She didn't realize until later how little the threat was to someone like Milo or Aiden who would just as happily forego the encumbrance of clothing in any situation. In fact, I don't think I would care much either, and the challenge was just too much to resist.

Later that day, Marianne was in the kitchen with myself and a few of the kids. She climbed up on to a blue stool that we keep handy in the kitchen to reach the higher shelves (since all of us are quite short, except for Rory of late). At the same moment I was leaning down to load some dishes into the dishwasher. When I lifted my head I found myself at eye level with her crotch. Never one to miss a golden opportunity, I grabbed her pajama pants and gave with a yank. What I found myself staring at only inches from my face was startling. Much to everyone's surprise, Marianne was wearing some kind of thong underwear with bright blue stripes, and the red Superwoman logo front and centre. The cut of the undies made them look like a cross between a Wonder Woman outfit and a Superman costume. I did a double-take and so did the kids. "What the . . .?"

Marianne, also never one to miss a golden opportunity, must have seen our expressions of dumbfounded surprise and, standing just above us aloft her stool mount, turned towards her audience, placed her feet at shoulder width, planted her fisted hands on her hips, and austerely stated, "So, . . . now you know." We all burst into uproarious laughter, and Marianne's reputation as Superwoman in our household was cemented. You are Superwoman, baby.

See you in hell,
Shakes.

Alex Obi Wan Kenobi Coll = the BEST man!

So Alex, in his hyper-organized computer-systems egocentric mind, has graciously seen fit to send me the entire edited text of his Best Man's speech. For the record, Alex, Tatooine is NOT pronounced "Tatoony", but good try. Almost every other sentiment in this speech has me teary-eyed. Enjoy.


Vader, Vader, Vader, buddy ol’ pal. I’m glad you could invite me here today on your special day, and that we can still be friends and put this whole intergalactic war thing behind us. And I think I speak for everyone when I say that I’m happy to see you back with Amidala, you should have known that the whole thing with Emperor Palpatine just wasn’t going to work out. In the end he just didn’t respect you, not to mention the whole age difference.

Ok I’m done with the Star Wars jokes. Unlike Uncle Palpie I could never really get into role playing...

For those from the bridal party who might just be meeting Dave, let me give you some background.

Of the many things Dave has been called over the years, I’m pretty sure that a cool cat is counted among them. But if I was going to choose his most feline characteristic, it would probably be the many lives he has been granted to throw away. The first of those nine cards was played on July 15, 1970, when a compassionate woman and strict catholic dogma did him a favour, a debt which he has since repaid four times over.

I am not a religious man, but I do believe in guardian angels. While I can’t picture a system where everyone has one, Dave on the other hand has a whole team, and I’m sure the loved ones summoned upstairs to plead on his behalf are looking down on us tonight. You see, when he was only 15 Dave was tragically struck by a car in a hit and run late at night. He was rushed to the hospital, where to every one's joy and surprise he came to. The doctor sat down to tell the adolescent David some news. The good news was that none of the inflicted bone fractures was too serious and they should all heal cleanly. The bad news, was that given tell tale signs from
the x-ray, as far as growing taller was concerned, he was finished.

I can only imagine how this knowledge would impact a typically self-obsessed 15-year-old. But as a testament to the pointlessness of modern genetic screening, learning his fate did little to prevent a burgeoning napoleon complex. For the non-history buffs, Napoleon was born in Corsica, which is an island in the St Lawrence.

Of course, Dave was gifted with plenty of ways to compensate for being vertically challenged. He still had his good looks that were so popular with the ladies, and even the silky smooth voice to match. Unfortunately that voice was connected to a mouth which was not altogether unaccustomed to having a foot wedged firmly in. Strangely, this is one of the qualities we love most about Dave. In a world dominated by a saccharine, paranoid, politically correct media, David is not shy about speaking his mind. Not that he’s rude, or going to judge you for your opinion, but he ain’t apologizing for his. BS has its purposes but conversation ain’t one of them. This is an attitude which I like very much.

But where were we? Like any alpha male who also knows a good party when he sees one Dave was drawn to the decks, and started a career Dj’ing in the pubs and clubs of Ottawa-Hull that even landed him a spot on the radio. But he did not limit himself solely to the role of an entertainer. Being a renaissance man, minus the sporting bit, he simultaneously pursued the finer arts, becoming versed in the likes of Descartes and Shakespeare, eventually earning a degree in Economics from Carleton University. As if that wasn’t enough, and for God knows why, he added another degree in English to his accolades.

So, a successful radio career, a new family, and two degrees. Where do you go from there? Time to buy a house, settle down and trip the light fantastic? Not if you’re David Christopher. Hell no! It’s time to get that family down to the hot sands of Daytona beach and check out the party!

In Daytona it took Dave no time flat to establish himself on the scene and party in the booth with the likes of Snoop Dogg and the Chili Peppers. Even an NBA star came to the booth one night to make a request. Making conversation he asked “Hey, what’s a fella gotta do to get some action in this place?”
“You’re Shaquille O’neal, right?” replied Dave.
“That’s right”, says Shaq. To which Dave came back with, “Yeah, you’re not gettin’ laid tonight.” Tell it like it is pal!

Dave arrived ahead of the kids to prepare the cottage in Daytona. He was impressed with the comfy little bungalow, and like any good Canadian he was immediately drawn to the fireplace. This being the middle of summer, there was only one logical thing to do: fire that puppy up!

A nice toasty going, Dave stepped out to survey the view from the garden. The neighbour was out that day, watering his lawn.
“Howdy there!” the neighbour exclaimed, “where y’all from?”
“Canada actually!” Dave replied. “We’re from Ottawa. The rest of the fam is coming down next week!”
“Well, that’s a relief” says the neighbour.
“Why?” asked Dave, puzzled.
“'Cause your house is on fire!”

A glance confirmed that indeed the roof, the roof, the roof was on fire. But he didn’t need no water. He let that muther burn! Because the landlord claimed responsibility for not cleaning the flu, and set him up with a condo on the beach! In all the species in your mutt heritage, I’d have to say the luck of the Irish shone through on that occasion.

All good things come to an end, and Dave decided to come home. Of course, no one in their right mind would go back to Ottawa voluntarily, so Dave and company returned to settle in our little island hamlet. And hamlet, as in the play by Shakespeare, is exactly where I had the pleasure of making his acquaintance. The casting was perhaps the only thing done right in this production, with a brooding 25-year-old Alex Coll in the eponymous role, and the over-the-hill DJ David Christopher as Hamlet’s traitorous ami Rosencrantz. I can still recall the first reading, where introductions were made. I took a look at Dave, with his pencil thin chinstrap and frosted tips, and could at once smell something rotten in the state of Denmark. For his part, Dave looked back at an angry, stand-offish ego-case, and he didn’t like me one bit. But it didn’t take long for him to see through the act, and approach me after rehearsal. “These drama geeks may be intimidated by you”, he said, “but not me buddy. You’re not the first punk I’ve chewed through in my time and you ain’t gonna be the last.” I could tell then this was going to be someone I wouldn’t soon forget. As two heart-broken, wise-cracking sods we were bound to become friends eventually. But in the end it was not our mutual appreciation of the Bard which brought us together. No, it was of course a heinous act of juvenile shenanigans.

I had invited Dave and some of the cast over to my flat for a few drinks. The apartment was just another one of those 70’s jobs on Bay St, but it had an interesting feature. The entrance way camera was hooked up to CCTV, which you could view on a special channel on the TV. The channel’s audio was connected to the intercom, and a couple smart-asses from next door were on it, making wise-cracks at everyone coming in and out of the building. Well, I decided that if they were going to be smart, I might as well give them something to talk about. So donning a pillowcase to protect my anonymity, I made my way down to the entrance and treated the building to a show of my bare white ass. However, what I had failed to consider is that someone, such as a little old lady, may have wanted to actually use said entrance. Try to imagine someone trying to simultaneously pull up their pants and yank a pillowcase off of their head, and you could appreciate the comedy of the situation.

I returned to the apartment to find my friends rolling on the floor in tears. Dave put his hand on my shoulder, looked me in the eyes, and told me “Alex Coll, you are the man”. And that was to be the true beginning of a torrid bromance.

The production went off without a hitch. However, it is a standing tradition among actors to play some kind of prank on the closing night. There is a scene in Hamlet where he shows an impudent Rosencrantz the back of his hand. That night I decided to put my back into it, however when it came down to it I realized that I had never actually slapped someone in earnest, and became terribly self-conscious in the act. From my proximity I could see Dave break character for a second and give me a sly grin, as if to say “you little b, is that really the best you can do?” Well Dave, you’ll be happy to know that I’ve given MJ my full permission to demonstrate the proper technique after the reception tonight!

I have come dressed tonight in the most appropriate costume for a best man, Obi Wan, Anakin’s failed mentor. The truth is of course that it is actually Dave who has served as my mentor, and in that capacity he has proved anything but a failure. Nor am I the only one, as an instructor the man was a legend at Pan Pacific College International, and his disciples, spread as they are around the world, from Japan to Korea, to Mexico, would I’m sure very much like to be here today to share this proud moment. And of course no speech on David’s accomplishments would be complete without mention of his role as a dedicated father. In an age when yuppies everywhere
are raising their only child as an exercise in project management, Dave knows that you won’t find the secret of good parenting in a psychology textbook. No Montessori in the world will replace old-fashioned love and attention. Kids love Dave because he’s just a big version of them, in years if not in stature. But all that is not to call him a soft touch. Far from it, Dave has done his best to keep his children away from the dark side of the force, and give them the same chance his adoptive parents gave him. To teach them that all-important lesson: if you can’t always do the right thing, just try and keep your nose out of the wrong one!

Post Hamlet I had the opportunity to get to know Dave and spend some time with him and Rory, Blair and Milo. But as fate would have it I was called to leave Victoria to find my fortune abroad in Europe. I did not pay home a visit until 2007, when I met up with Dave only to discover that he had fallen for a charming woman, one Marianne Johnston. We spent the evening raising our brand of hell on the town, par normale. At the end of the night we relaxed in Dave’s living room, until he lay snoozing in her arms as she spoke to me in whispered tones. That he had fallen for a pretty girl was no surprise. That she could keep up with him, moreso. That she had outlasted him was perhaps unheard of. To top it off I could tell she was no fan of BS herself. She had earned my respect, and then some.

Dave isn’t always the easiest person to live with, a secret about as well hidden as the plans to the Death Star. Any woman that was going to put up with him would have to have thick skin and a firm hand. So, it was yet to been seen if it would last. A lengthy period ensued before I had the chance to return again in 2009 but when I did, it was to find that not only had Marianne lasted, they had a home together. It appeared that David’s incurable optimism was finally proffering returns. It was at this point that I had the pleasure to make acquaintance with Marianne’s lovely children Aiden, Camille, and Megan. You can imagine my terror when upon entering the door David shouted “Ok, who wants uncle Alex to read a story?!” I was at once engulfed in what can only be described as a kidalanche.

Like any true genius, Dave has had his doubters. These are the ones who have said “Dave, a great mind sure, but he’s a loose cannon!”. It is true that his explosive energy has a habit of getting carried away, and he has not always had his toes planted down on terra firma. In Marianne he has found someone who can not only take the thorns with the roses, but who has the courage and strength of character to get his attention and make him listen. Marianne, you are a rock, an anchor in the storm. And since you have come into his life we have seen nothing but positive things.

Needless to say none of the doubters are in attendance today. But I almost wish they were, so they could see what Dave can accomplish with a woman like Marianne at his side. How about an A+ grade point average in a master’s level theatre history program? How about being told by an accomplished professor that he should publish his thesis as a full length book? How about things in the works to get his blog on family life published as a novel? And the scary thing is, you two are just getting started!

So with the addition of wee Lilian the family is complete (knock knock). I have never seen such enjoyable mayhem as 654 Ralph St, a.k.a. Grand Central Station, and we are all blessed to know it is assured to continue long into the future. To finish, I’d like to say two things. Firstly, Dave, the gestation of a pig is 112 to 114 days, if you ask me one more time I’ll slap you for real, and I’ve been practicing! Second, I’d like to say that despite the occasional transgression, you are a gentleman, you will soon be a scholar by even the classic definition, and David Christopher, you are the man.

Thank you.



... and see you in hell,
Shakes.

The Reverend Yoda Loran Donnie Black

The Star Wars Wedding - Tofino 2010. It was simply amazing and there is no way to do it justice with a verbal description. Even the photos barely touch on the exuberant tenor of the day. You simply had to be there, and if you weren't, sorry about yer luck.

While I will be posting anecdotes from the 7-day trip for months to come, here is a starter. Loran has posted two pages on his Rock n' Roll Breakfast radio show website. One is a photo album, one is a blog entry and the links are as follows.

http://www.rocknrollbreakfast.com/star_wars_wedding.html

http://www.rocknrollbreakfast.com/lamas_blog.html


The photo album I posted on facebook is at the following link:

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=193301&id=512277636&l=3f2bb42596

Enjoy.

See you in a galaxy far, far away,
Shakes.

Dichotomy and Gender in Greek Myth

In the summer of 2010, I took a course called Myth and Criticism. It was a third level course that came midway through my MA and was a bit of a reprieve from the standards that I had been maintaining for the previous year. The course covered functionalist, feminist, structuralist, comparatist, Freudian, and euhemeristic theory with a focus on Greek myth but with broader applications. One of the trends I noticed that was especially obvious in structuralist analyses was a polarization between dichotomous institutions in Greek culture that caused social tension or anxiety and that, according to Levi-Strauss, were mediated by elements in myth. Most obvious was the cultural regulation of the roles of and perspectives on men and women in a definitively patriarchal society. Although I was not required to write a full essay for the course, it reminded me of a course I had taken in 1994 in which I wrote an essay on Euripides' Bacchae, that addressed a similar idea, in an admittedly naive vein.

ECSTASY: FUN AND FEVER

-A Study in Euripides' The Bacchae-


David C. Long
(198480)


Carleton University
Instructor D.G. Beer
Greek and Latin Literary Genres - 18.209 A
March 23, 1994


The male, female dichotomy in Euripides' The Bacchae, is of particular interest for the way it represents a symbolic set of polar extremes. A simplification of the stereotype of the era is that men were rational and women were irrational. Although Euripides probably believed that these were only stereotypes, he used it as a vehicle to demonstrate the perils of blindly associating yourself with either extreme. That isn't to say that this polarity is the only function. Indeed, the confused sexuality plays an integral role in creating an atmosphere of paganistic wantonness; an exemplification of the dichotomy of beauty and the horrific that occur simultaneously in emotional abandon. The male, female dichotomy is also implicit to a series of paradoxical opposites he was using to demonstrate the ironic relationship between symbol and truth in human understanding.
The text is replete with examples of the gender stereotype. Pentheus comes across as purely logical. He is the young male king who has not matured enough to understand the value of tempering logic with insight. To him, everything must have a rational explanation. He can only believe that
"The truth about Dionysus
Is that he's dead, burnt to a cinder by lightning
Along with his mother because
she said Zeus lay with her" (Velacott 199).
He accuses the young Bacchic foreigner, actually a disguised Dionysus, of a shape
"not unhandsome - for the pursuit
Of women, which is the purpose
of your presence here" (Velacott 206).
He assumes that the only reason "every eastern land dances these mysteries" is because "Their moral standards fall far below ours" (Velacott 207). The women, in his opinion, have not left to worship a god, but, "on some pretence of Bacchic worship" in order to drink "bowls full of wine" (Velacott 198). Pentheus claims to Teiresias that his acceptance of Dionysus is out of a "hope to advance (his) augurer's business, to collect more fees" (Velacott 200). Pentheus will accept only the completely rational.
As soon as Pentheus must face the existence of the irrational, he becomes associated with the feminine. After the 'miracle' earthquake caused by Bacchus, Pentheus becomes confused and begins questioning the rationality of what is occurring around him. Dionysus uses this time to escape prison, which to Pentheus was an impossibility. His confusion throws him into a flurry of repetitive questioning, wondering, "what's going on now? How did you get out?" (Velacott 213). The ensuing tale of the supernatural powers of the Maenads told by the messenger further disillusions Pentheus and Dionysus takes this opportunity to impose his trance on him. Now, completely open to the suggestion of the irrational, Bacchus convinces him to dress "in female garb" (Velacott 222). Bacchus explains,
"While sane, he'll not consent to put on women's clothes,
Once free from the curb of reason, he will" (Velacott 222). At this point Pentheus has become totally submerged in irrational surroundings. He says, "a bull I see leading me" and notices "the seven gates appear double", as does the sun (Velacott 224-225). Pentheus' confusion reduces him to a simpering fairy and he croons,
"How do I look?
Tell me, is not the way I stand
Like the way Ino stands,
or like my mother Agaue?" (Velacott 225).
Dionysus agrees, "You are the very image of one of Cadmus' daughters" (Velacott 224). Simultaneous with Pentheus' descent into the irrational is his complete transformation into the feminine.
Pentheus and Dionysus play the male and female dichotomy together in a reversal of the hunter and hunted relationship. The emotional abandon represented by Dionysus is nothing more than a "vile cult" to Pentheus (Blaiklock 228). "His enthusiasm had dwelt with pleasure on a disciplined state, and here was a movement likely to destroy its harmony" (Blaiklock 216). His "home had been thus invaded, and he was bitter" (Blaiklock 213). He becomes the hunter of Bacchus, as is evident in the guards' words,
"Pentheus, we've brought the prey you sent us out to catch;
We hunted him" (Velacott 205).
Dionysus pretends to be the helpless victim of Pentheus' suppression. Upon his entrance, "He has long flowing hair and a youthful almost feminine beauty" (Velacott 191). His hair is described as "Flowing in scented ringlets" and his face is "flushed with wine" (Velacott 199). Pentheus is well deceived about his ability to "track down // That effeminate foreigner" (Velacott 203). In this part of the play, he appears as the strong, dominant, male figure, attempting to crush any deviant irrationality.
Dionysus is quick to reverse these roles. Early in the story, the chorus establishes his ultimate role by hinting that Dionysus "hunts for blood" (Velacott 196). Sure enough, once Dionysus has raped Pentheus of his logic and his masculinity, he tells the women, "this man is walking into the net" (Velacott 222). Bacchus, toying with his prey, tells Pentheus he might catch a glimpse of the Maenads, "if you are not first caught yourself" (Velacott 226). To complete the reversal, Dionysus releases the crazed Maenads on their 'maiden' sacrifice, Pentheus. More than even a simple 'lynch-mob', they are described like rabid hunting dogs.
The irrationality of women is established immediately in Bacchus' opening speech. He says, about the Maenads, that "Their wits are gone", and that
"...the whole female population of Thebes,
To the last woman, I have sent raving
from their home" (Velacott 192).
Pentheus begins imprisoning what he refers to as "all these crazy females" (Velacott 200). He also chastises Cadmus, dressed in effeminate Bacchic garb, for engaging in "crazy folly" and that he will "punish this man who has been your instructor in lunacy" (Velacott 203). Euripides is blatantly exploiting the stereotype of women as irrational.
The irrationality of women was further emphasized by the public belief that Euripides was a misogynist. Aristophanes often ridiculed Euripides for this reputation in his comedies. Euripides held women up to such close examination in his plays, a humiliation to the "modest" women in his era, and invariably portrayed them as evil. With such comments as,
"...as for women,...
wherever the sparkle of sweet wine adorns their feasts,
No good will follow" (Velacott 200)
and,
"...This is beyond
All bearing, if we must let
women so defy us" (Velacott 219),
it seems in his opinion that the honour and behaviour of women is to be esteemed lesser than that of men, and certainly as irrational.
The irrationality stereotype of the woman is perhaps best exemplified by the chorus. In their emotional rapture, they oscillate between the serenely beautiful and the bloodily horrific. In dreamlike verse, they chant such passages as,
"O for long nights of worship, gay
With the pale gleam of dancing feet,
With head tossed high to the dewy air -
Pleasure mysterious and sweet!
O for the joy of a fawn at play
In the fragrant meadow's green delight" (Velacott).
Their very next words are bloodthirsty and strike a startlingly fickle contrast.
"...sever the throat
Of the godless, lawless, shameless son of Echion,...
[Then with growing excitement, shouting in unison, and
dancing to the rhythm of their words]...
...let the stampeding
Herd of Maenads
Throw him and throttle him,
Catch, trip, trample him to death!" (Velacott 229).
Irrationality is a 'double-edged sword'. Aside from the combined natural beauty and frenzied horror of the chorus, the Maenads also exemplify the dangers of totally succumbing to ecstasy. They are initially described by the herdsman as behaving
"...modestly, not - as you told us - drunk with wine
Or flute music , seeking the solitary woods
For the pursuit of love" (Velacott 215).
They appear as virginal forest nymphs revelling in the thrill of vitalism. But, as the Bacchic intoxicant becomes overwhelming, Bacchus' wish to
"...join that army
Of women possessed and lead them to battle"
comes to pass (Velacott 193). At the peak of their Bacchic hysteria, they reach a tumultuous climax of unparalleled evil.
"Agaue was foaming at the mouth; her rolling eyes
Were wild; she was not in her right mind, but possessed
By Bacchus, and she paid no heed to (Pentheus). She grasped
His left arm between wrist and elbow, set her foot
Against his ribs, and tore his arm off by the shoulder.
...On the other side
Ino was at him, tearing his flesh; and now
Autonoe joined them, and the whole maniacal horde.
A single and continuous yell arose - Pentheus
Shrieking as long as life was left in him, the women
Howling in triumph. One of them carried off an arm,
Another a foot, the boot still laced on it. The ribs
Were stripped, clawed clean; and women's hands, thick
red with blood,
Were tossing, catching, like a plaything,
Pentheus' flesh" (Velacott 232).
There is a dual nature to ecstasy, one of freedom and pleasure, the other of verifiable evil in the extreme absence of logic.
Dionysus embodies the ambiguous dichotomy of ecstasy. He is both feminine and masculine and, by extension, evil and divine. He delineates himself as "Most terrible, although most gentle" (Velacott 222). The guard concurs, telling Pentheus that, "the beast was gentle" when he was hunted (Velacott 205). Ironically, Dionysus' evil, normally associated with women by Euripides, reaches full bloom when Dionysus is no longer the feminine hunted, but the masculine hunter. He relieves Pentheus of his trance at the moment of his death for no other reason than to watch him suffer the pains of his demise all the more lucidly. Dionysus establishes his divinity by purporting, "I am a god, and you insulted me", but is summed up more accurately by Cadmus' lamentation, "your revenge is merciless" (Velacott 243).
The state of drunkenness, which Dionysus is the god of, is a perfect example of his duality (Segal 156). Teiresias reminds us that
"When mortals drink their fill
Of wine, the sufferings of our unhappy race
Are banished, each day's troubles
are forgotten in sleep" (Velacott 200).
In the short run, this euphoria is all well and good, and quite therapeutic, but at what cost? The women became "riotous bands", caught in the "maddening trance of Dionysus" (Velacott 195). Excessive imbibement is well known to cause a dangerous lack of inhibition.
The male, female dichotomy, when associated with the ecstatic ritual, creates an almost paganistic atmosphere of wanton sexuality. Revelling in nature,
"...the Maenads catch
Wild snakes, nurse them and twine them
round their hair" (Velacott 195).
In all nature, however, occurs a "brute wildness" (Velacott 195). Pentheus believed that the
"...women go creeping off
This way and that to lonely places and give themselves
To lecherous men" (Velacott 198).
These words might be 'taken with a grain of salt' considering his insanely rational logic but are somewhat reified by Teiresias when he says,
"Dionysus will not compel
Women to be chaste" (Velacott 201).
The combination of the confused gender role of Dionysus, the paganistic wildness and the sexual promiscuity paint a vivid picture of 'heart-pounding' ecstasy.
Pure rationality is no less dangerous. Using Pentheus as the paradigm for pure rationality, Euripides establishes it as negative as well. Teiresias, the voice of truth and vision, insists that Pentheus' rejection of Bacchus is because "a most cruel insanity has warped his mind" (Velacott 202), and later blatantly tells him, "now you are insane" (Velacott 203). Dionysus himself tells Pentheus, "I am sane and you are mad" (Velacott 208) and,
"You know not what you are saying, what you do, nor who
You are" (Velacott 208).
Pentheus' sin was a strict devotion to the purely logical and as a result, Bacchus destroys him. He does not have the faculties to deal with his emotional alter ego, and is thus decimated when he comes in contact with it. Anagnorisis is achieved only once the characters have been exposed to both the rational and the irrational. The revelation is that denying one emotional extreme, rational or irrational, can only result in tragedy.
Pentheus' realization occurs at the time of his death in a last moment of lucidity. Returning from his trance, he cries,
"Mother have mercy, I have sinned,
But I am still your own son.
Do not kill me!" (Velacott 232).
The sin is that which Dionysus mentions in his introduction.
"He is a fighter against gods, defies me, excludes from
Libations, never names me in prayers" (Velacott 193).
This sin is tantamount to the sin of chaste Hippolytus against Aphrodite in Euripides' Hippolytus, if we consider that emotion is personified in Dionysus. More specifically, Pentheus is denying his emotionally irrational side and in so doing, realizes his own destruction.
Agaue, too, only achieves anagnorisis after having been exposed to both the rational and the irrational. Returning from the Bacchic ritual in which she believed herself to be "hunting wild beasts with (her) bare hands", she is "still rapt in her unhappy frenzy" (Velacott 236). The 'double-edged sword' of her revelry is coming to light and it is noteworthy that the Bacchic frenzy is described for the first time as "unhappy". In a particularly poignant and concise anagnorisis, Cadmus forces her back to the world of the rational by instructing her to examine her hunting trophy. "Look at it steadily; come closer to the truth" (Velacott 238). She realizes, "I hold Pentheus' head in my accursed hand. Dionysus has destroyed us. Now I understand" (Velacott 238). Her return to the rational world coincides with her understanding that she has not been hunting but mesmerized in an emotional and violent delirium.
Teiresias embodies a link between polar extremes and avoids tragedy. He is the combined male and female, old and young, and logical and emotional. Teiresias, appearing with Cadmus and also dressed effeminately in Bacchic garb, is first referred to as "the wise voice of a wise man" (Velacott 197). The distinction here is that he is said to be wise, not strictly rational. His wisdom emerges from his ability to experience the revelry of emotion. Teiresias quickly agrees, for example, with Cadmus' assertion,
"...What joy it is
To forget one's age!" (Velacott 197).
Teiresias is able to see that "no one is exempt" from the necessity of Bacchus (Velacott 198). He continues to say that
"...the god draws no distinction between young
And old" (Velacott 198).
Maintaining the female half of the dichotomy, his words are echoed by the herdsman. He describes the Maenads as "women both old and young" (Velacott 215). Cadmus is destroyed as a part of Pentheus' tragedy (Segal 156), but Teiresias points out that their attempt to breach the parameters of age and masculinity has given him the wisdom to "see things clearly" and that "all others are perverse" (Velacott 197). These words foreshadow his survival and the doom of all who do not achieve this dually emotional and logical anagnorisis.
Euripides employed the male, female dichotomy as an implicit element to a series of dichotomies he was using to philosophize on the nature of truth, symbol and understanding. He was concerned with such intellectual developments of his era as sophistry, tragedy, and religious revolt. The Dionysiatic ritual, whereby the hunter becomes the hunted, actually became the model for all subsequent tragedy (Conacher 56-58). Even such non-structured details as the sinister in sexuality are evident in works as late as Shakespeare's Hamlet. This tragedic model was ironic to Euripides "because by creating illusion tragedy seeks to convey truth; by causing us to lose ourselves it gives us a deeper sense of ourselves; and by representing events filled with the most intense pain it gives us pleasure" (Segal 156). "The mind runs back over the strange pain and beauty of the play, and there comes the sudden realization that the whole day has been a carnival of madness" (Blaiklock 228). Much in the same way wisdom occurs when logic is balanced with emotion in the play, we see self-awareness for the audience emerging from the emotional engagement in theatre.
"Dionysus is the god of wine, and religious ecstasy; he is also the god of the drama and the mask. His worship breaks down the barriers not only between god and beast and between man and wild nature, but also between reality and illusion" (Segal 156). The chorus supplies a concise summation to the audience in the concluding lines of the play.
"The things we thought would happen do not happen;
The unexpected god makes possible:
And that is what has happened here today" (Velacott 244).
More broadly, nobody young or old, male or female, is exempt from the need to temper the rational with the irrational, to combine logic with emotion, to see what reality lies behind appearances, and to learn truth from fiction.




BIBLIOGRAPHY

Blaiklock, E.M. The Male Characters of Euripides. Wellington:
New Zealand University Press, 1952.

Conacher, D.J. Euripidean Drama. London: Oxford University
Press, 1967.

Segal, Charles. "The Bacchae as Metatragedy", in Burian, Peter,
ed. Directions in Euripidean Criticism. Durham: Duke
University Press, 1985.

Velacott, Philip, tr. Euripides The Bacchae and Other Plays.
Toronto: Penguin Books Canada Ltd., 1973.

Candid Candor

Marianne sent me the picture above with the following caption:
"Reporting live from the Christopher household, I'm Lilian C."

Today, she sent me the following e-mail:
"How can such a tiny human being produce this much shit!?!? Female, too!"

See you in hell,
Shakes.

Blair-ball

Blair Taffan Christopher is named after Blair Ian Mackenzie. The latter of the two was my best friend for many years as a child between the ages of ten and twenty years old. He was killed in a tragic car accident in 1991 and my life was altered forever. Blair Mackenzie was a genuine person who bullied no-one and tried to see the best in everyone. Moreover, he was an exceptionally talented athlete, particularly in baseball. I remember many a summer afternoon at the sidelines of his organized team watching him play. On one occasion when he was in left field a long, high, fly ball came his way. He ran towards it to make the catch but unexpectedly slowed as he approached the target. From my vantage point, there was nothing visible that might have caused this behaviour. Just then, while still running, he reached down and scooped up a small bird into his glove that had been flailing in the grass. He then proceeded to make the catch with his bare hand and throw it in for a double-play. He promptly called time-out and walked the bird over to the side. It had a broken wing and Blair admitted that when he spied it in the grass, he was worried he might run over it so he had thought it best just to scoop it up during the play. I never saw that bird again but I think it was taken to a veterinary hospital where I'm hoping it received due care. I reiterate, Blair Taffan Christopher is named after Blair Ian Mackenzie.

I don't know if it was just coincidence then when about a year ago, I took Milo and Blair out to the nearby park to play a little baseball, and Blair proved incredibly talented. They are both shut-ins and engage very little sporting activity. We had not touched a baseball since before they were too young for it to matter. I was amazed at the skill both of them demonstrated in catching, hitting, and fielding. They certainly didn't get that talent from me or their mother!

In time, Blair decided that he wanted to join an organized team, and after much funding ado I got him registered with the strangely named Gordon Head Evening Optimists. Some of the other kids had been playing for a year already but I was confident that Blair was talented enough to keep up. However, the competition proved fierce and Blair was swept up in a team that pitched fast, hit hard, and played serious. Blair was not the strongest player on the team and was regularly having difficulty hitting and fielding at this level. By the third or fourth game I had become concerned that Blair was beginning to be viewed as the weak link on his team. That would surely discourage him from continuing and he was genuinely talented. He was able to hit some pretty fast pitches when we practiced at home. Nevertheless, he seemed to have stage fright when playing for his team, and he had developed a habit of waiting to be walked or waiting to be struck out, hoping the limited talent of the pitcher would afford him the former. He had not hit one pitch all season.

Finally it happened. It was his first hit, not only of the season, but ever for Blair in an organized sport. It was his first hit ever. It was his first hit EVER! I was celebratory and triumphant and crowed like a cock in the stands at his achievement. He was thrown out before he reached first base but that was of small concern to me. He had hit the ball, and hit it well. I knew he could do it.

Several games later, he had fallen back into his habit of waiting to be walked, but he swung at a lot more strikes than he had previously. Some of the pitches were genuinely 'balls' and he was making good choices. It is difficult to hit Blair's strike zone - he's tiny. He is adorable to watch in school concerts. He is always the shortest and smallest in the row by a measurable margin. His baseball team was no different. He was easily the smallest kid on the team, and the other kids looked like monsters by comparison. Even for his size, Blair is diminutive. The kid's about 40lbs soaking wet and gets nervous in high winds. One pitch came whizzing in full speed, and Blair tried to duck out of the way of the erratically aimed throw. "WHACK!" Ooooooooh! That looked like it hurt! Right in the helmet. Good thing he had that thing on! He stumbled backwards, dazed, but he didn't lose his footing. He gave his head a little shake and regained his bearings before taking his base - well earned! And I got the whole thing on video so we can revisit the fiasco for years to come. If the other Blair was watching from some netherworld, I'm sure he is just as proud as I am! Atta boy, Blair. Give 'em hell!

See you in hell,
Shakes.

Rory's Magic Underpants

The boy's almost all grown up now. He's fourteen-years-old and a good two inches taller than I am already. He plays football better than I ever did, and he seems to need me less and less. He's almost never home. But he was a baby once, and then a toddler, and a super-cute kid. Once when he was about six-years-old I had taken him into the bathroom in our little basement apartment on Tremblay Drive for a much needed bath. "Arms up!" I commanded, and he obediently lifted his arms so that I could hoist off his t-shirt in one swift motion. I then grabbed the waist of his pants and gave a tug down. He stood patiently in his undies for all clothes to be removed in just such a systemic fashion. Next, I grabbed his undies and gave a tug down, and once again he stood patiently . . . in . . . his . . . undies?! What the . . . ?
"Rory, why do you have two pairs of underpants on?"
He pulled his arms back and looked down to spy the pair crumpled up with his pants around his ankles. Then his eyes darted upwards to the pair still clinging snugly around his waist, then down again, and back up several times as he tried to make sense of the situation. Eventually, he cocked his head sideways with an expression both hesitant and suspicious, and said, "I . . . don't . . . know," as though some magic underwear gnome had secretly applied the second pair while he wasn't looking.
How does a kid get on a second pair of underpants without knowing it!? I was a little confused but laughing uncontrollably, until an image flashed across my memory that set in motion a recall that explained the entire fiasco. Rory tends to be a little clumsy when he first wakes up - not the most alert morning kid. He also has a tendency to wear his underwear to bed as pajama bottoms. I remembered having seen him yank on his pants that morning from a pile of clean clothes his mother had laid out for him the night before. In his morning haze, he had crawled out of bed in his underpants and proceeded to put on the pile of clothes before him, underwear and all, without removing the ones he had been wearing already. And he lived his day comfortably unaware of the secret second pair of magic underpants until it was time to disrobe. I wonder how many pairs he might have layered up if I had waited a few more days before giving him a bath. At least he was keeping the family jewels well padded and warm!

See you in hell,
Shakes.

Paper Frogs and Sock Puppets

It's the little things in life that really matter. I know what you're thinking - Oh great! Another sappy narrative celebrating the joy that is 'children' from another self-absorbed parent that just can't help but share his delightful family anecdotes. I guess its true. Long ago my writing became an example of one of those Norman-Rockwell-type adults who do nothing but write cutesy stories about the wonders of parenting that are pleasant at first, but become stomach-turning quickly, and feel like the exploitation of children. In my defense, there are seven of them. They're hard to overlook. And I guess they have become a very large part of my identity. *Sigh*. But I still know myself, even as heavily influenced as I am by the kids.

I was sitting in a trendy coffee shop in downtown Victoria, sipping a ludicrously overpriced hot chocolate. It is not my normal modus operandi to frequent such hipster-doofus venues but it was timely. Jennifer was long gone, Marianne was yet to arrive, and Amy came and went like a housefly with attention-deficit disorder. I was in a state of maintenance. I was floating. And there I was on the patio of a sidewalk cafe.

A disturbance at the next table pulled me out of my mesmerized catatonia and my attention lulled sideways. A poor mother was suffering to keep her infant child quiet while her toddler darted off in every dangerous direction. Now, it is not my usual practice to get involved. I really didn't give a shit, but, ah, what the hell. I leaned over to the energetic child and whispered, "Pssssst... Hey Kiddo. Wanna see a paper trick?" His eyes brightened with excitement and he glanced towards his mother for the requisite permission to humour the strange man. She was in no mood to be defensive and shrugged in ambivalent compliance. I reached over to their table and equipped myself with a sugar packet. I tore open the top just slightly, and with a wink and a finger to my lips (gesturing 'ssshhhh'), I covertly poured the contents into the black decaf the smarmy debutante socialite at the adjacent table had been foolish enough to leave unattended during her visit to the lavatory. The kid giggled in gleeful and mischievous secrecy. I then flattened the paper packet and folded it into a little frog, an origami trick I had learned from a childhood activity book called Paper Capers, and which I had used as a demonstration of task-based language activities in countless TESL classes. Having started with such a small scrap of paper resulted in the tiniest little paper frog, but it still hopped when pressed just right, and the child was simply elated. I smiled at him and handed it over. He toddled off to his table and played in quiet fascination with the new toy. I noticed the baby had stopped crying, and the mother looked at me dumbfounded and incredulous. After a few moments she regained her verbal acuity and said, "Thank you. What are you - some kind of saint or something?" I chuckled at the irony. "I'll have to go with "or something"." I walked out of the cafe flattered and smiling.

When Marianne and I first started dating, we visited all of the typical array of venues that fledgling couples do. I found myself in a movie theatre waiting for the movie to start and with Marianne looking bored. Considering the charm my little frog had cast upon me via the anonymous mother, I figured I would try my hand at recreating a similar scenario with Marianne in the hope of earning some romance points. Having nothing but the paper reciept from our movie tickets handy, I gently folded it into another tiny frog and delicately placed it on my knee in the hush of the theatre to get her attention. She glanced over and giggled. It had worked, and I expected her to play with it a little before it was lost to the candy/condiment-infected floor. But Marianne collects and catalogues happy memories. Apparently their experience is an only slightly relevant precursor to their value in recall and memento. The moment was touching and with calculated immediacy, she smiled, reached over, swept her hand across my leg collecting the small frog, folded it flat and tucked it away into some sacred compartment of her purse. Done and done - efficiently acquired, catalogued, and filed for future demonstration to boyfriend-competitive girlfriends. Truly, the woman was every inch a legal secretary. I couldn't but chuckle at her organized approach to romance. At least it had charmed her too.

The third time I found myself bound to entertain with only limited resources at hand came just yesterday. Lilian was sitting in the middle of the living room floor where Marianne had been folding laundry. I sat before her and engaged her in some light baby babble. That excitement lasted only briefly before she started getting fussy, but no-one was about to watch her while I retrieved some toys or other to entertain her. Megan came in and handed me some unmatched socks she didn't know where to put. I slid one over each hand and invented Mr. and Mrs. Sock Puppet, complete with distinctive character voices and began making up some trivial dialogue between them aimed at Lily. Her face brightened and she released one of her characteristic little giggles. I proceeded with the show, and before long found that all of the kids had slowly gathered around me. Really!? It's amazing! With all of the video games, television, food, and other expensive choices surrounding them, for once, a mere sock puppet had won the entertainment of the day. I continued the show as long as I could but I was really just making up platitudes. It couldn't last forever and it didn't. Marianne scooped up the baby for some necessary ritual, the show ended, and the kids dispersed. But rest assured, equipped with only a curious child, and whatever else lies within arm's reach, there is a world of laughter to be discovered.

See you in hell,
Shakes.

To Be Melodrama or Not To Be Melodrama

David Christopher
Dr. Anthony Vickery
THEA 503 - Melodrama
12 April 2010
"I am determined to prove a villain"
-Richard III - Act 1, Scene 1-

To Be Shakespeare Or Not To be Shakespeare: That Is The Melodramatic Question

Melodramatic characteristics have been present in western drama since the time of the ancient Greeks. Stage melodrama as a singular genre, however, would not reach its maturity in England until the nineteenth century, preceded by progenitors such as John Philip Kemble, and brought to its height by masters such as Charles Kean and Henry Irving some fifty years later. Between the two eras lies the masterful bard. A prominent aspect of Shakespeare’s ‘whole work of art’ is deep characterization which is in direct contrast to the morally simplified characters of melodrama, even though his works provided fertile material from which actor/managers of the nineteenth century could harvest melodramatic material. Shakespeare incorporates melodramatic elements in a larger artistic whole which enabled Kemble, Kean and Irving to edit his plots and character speeches to meet the needs of eighteenth and nineteenth century melodramatic tastes.
One of the defining characteristics of Shakespeare’s drama was the seamless integration of plot and subplot to strengthen a larger thematic vision. Leo Kirschbaum, in his book Character and Characterization in Shakespeare describes the unity of all elements of Shakespeare’s artwork including theme, image, thought, plot, passage, scene, and act in an “overall design” (Kirschbaum 2). Similarly, Harold Child, in The Shakespearian Productions of John Philip Kemble, refers to "a Shakespeare play as an artistic whole, a work of art with a form of its own" (Child 6/7). In Men and letters; essays in characterization and criticism, Horace Scudder claims that beyond the youthful pleasures of Shakespeare's stories and their movement are the more esoteric attractions of characterization in which speeches of deep introspection build together in a complex interaction that reveals “the literary art" (Scudder 225). The complexity of Shakespeare’s integrated plots was complemented by characters with deep and often ambiguous subtext.
Perhaps the single most definitive characteristic of Shakespeare’s revered drama is the depth of his characters. In Romantic Actors and Bardolatry: Performing Shakespeare from Garrick to Kean, Celestine Woo refers to "the concomitant prestige of Shakespeare and his characters" (Woo 122). Even in his own time, his characterization was much deeper than his contemporaries, who, according to Marshall in his introduction to Kemble’s Henry VIII, demonstrated a penchant for more melodramatic staging conventions. He suggests that John Fletcher (probably most famous for Rule a Wife and Have a Wife) and Philip Massinger (definitely most famous for A New Way to Pay Old Debts) often sacrificed a rational characterization to considerations of more dramatic appeal such as spectacle or sudden plot reversals. (Marshall 163 – Vol. 8). Elizabethan England housed a population with "a significant Catholic minority" (Kaplan 242) in an era of severe tension between followers of Catholicism and Protestantism. The Merchant of Venice is problematized by the fact that English theatre-goers were ostensibly expected to sympathize with the Catholic Christians of Venice. Venice was a recognizable locus of power that defied the dictates of Papal Rome and the choice of Venice as a setting by Shakespeare may have mitigated an anti-Catholic sentiment by a Protestant audience. Both Protestants and Catholics became participants in a mutual “discourse of religious toleration” (Kaplan 243) beyond the political sanctions imposed by a monarchy that vacillated in its religious loyalties. Artistic articulations of this discourse may have prompted theatre-goers of either denomination to unite under the umbrella of Christianity against a common Jewish enemy who, in the play, is also highly sympathetic. Shakespeare’s characters were all complicated by his ability to see both sides of their subtextual motives, a direct contrast with melodramatic characters that are solely good or evil.
More than one critic systemically place Shakespeare in opposition to melodrama. In his often hilarious elitist rhetoric, in Shakespeare in the London Theatre 1855-58, Theodor Fontane sheds ingenuous light on common audiences and the popularity of melodrama. He refers to Sadler’s Wells as “a people's theatre, rather like the Surrey” (Fontane 59). Fontane revered Shakespeare’s drama in both Germany and England and he viewed the audience at Sadler’s Wells in condescending social terms because they “would just as soon watch a French melodrama as Hamlet" (Fontane 59). Discussing gothic melodrama in the introduction to The Hour of One, Stephen Wischhusen reiterates that “spectacle” and “action” were of the greatest attraction and that even Shakespearean “dialogue” was not popular (Wischhusen 11). He shares a telling anecdote.
Ducrow, the great equestrian actor said once during rehearsals, 'Cut the cackle and
let's get to the 'orses.' The fact that he was talking about his own particular
version of Hamlet makes little difference and his attitude was echoed by most of
the popular theatres of the day" (Wischhusen 11).
Scudder describes Shakespeare as a lofty pursuit for higher minds, particularly in the exploration of “the solutions to the great problems of human life” (Scudder 227). Here is where Shakespeare diverts from melodrama. In the structure of melodrama, the solution is articulated well enough - moral superiority will triumph - but the problem is always over-simplified to mere good against evil. That is to say that "definite expressions" of real "problems" are never realized (Scudder 227).
The depth of Shakespeare’s engaging characters is in direct contrast with the solely heroic or evil of melodramatic characters. In the introduction to The Magistrate and Other Nineteenth-Century Plays Michael Booth concisely articulates the character archetypes of melodrama as they had been defined in the earliest stages of the identified genre: “hero, heroine, villain, good old man and woman, comic man and woman, and eccentric” (Booth xii). In addition to character delineations, Booth also catalogues the larger accoutrements of mise-en-scene and plot, which made extensive use of coincidence, in a world where simple virtue is always rewarded against the fall of villainy. While the downfall of villainy occurs in Shakespearean tragedy, it is not the effect of a mere stereotype which inevitably privileges virtue. Shakespeare's villains are complex and ambiguous, often sympathetic. Moreover, the downfall of the villain usually brings with it the downfall of any identifiable hero, or heroine as well. Certainly there is no reward of their virtue, if it even remains intact by the close of the play. In each of Shakespeare’s plays, melodramatic characterization is present, but deployed in complex ways. My purpose is not to disparage the qualities of melodrama. Quite to the contrary, I must admit that it is these very qualities that have drawn me to it, its emotional appeal having worked its magic on my psyche to its perfect purpose. Regardless of any qualitative judgment, mine or other, it is merely a fact that these are the actual characteristics of the genre, for better or for worse.
Melodrama is frequently described as the offspring of tragedy, supplanting the tragic ending with a ‘happy’ one. The most pervasive aspects of melodrama date back as far as the ancient Greeks. In his compelling essay on Television Melodrama, David Thorburn refers to the binary of good against evil as an integral part of drama “since the time of Euripides" (Thorburn 603). Peter Brooks’ foundational work defines the genre in a less critically pejorative light than it had been in nearly fifty years, in which he claims that “stage melodrama represents "a popular form of the tragic, exploiting similar emotions"” (Thorburn 603). Melodrama may well have supplanted tragedy as a popular form of theatre in an era when less sophisticated working-class audiences demanded more in the way of escapism than social introspection. The nineteenth century was a time of audience diversification. Members from all levels of a new social strata became patrons and in response melodrama introduced characters that reflected and championed ostensibly lower-class heroes in a wide range of dramatic scenarios including those that were “tragic or potentially tragic” (Booth x). Indeed, Booth goes so far as to suggest that John Walker’s 1832 play, The Factory Lad, “is closer to tragedy than melodrama” (Booth xiv). The narrative fails to present anything that is particularly unrealistic to the working class audience experiencing the same economic vicissitudes as the characters. The ending is more ambiguous and unresolved than it is ‘happy’. Happy endings were fondly desired, if not commercially necessary. Nineteenth century, playwrights “usually avoided a tragic termination to […] domestic agonies” but that what he refers to as dramatic “raw material” was tantamount to the suffering depicted in tragedy. Like many others, Booth defines melodrama as an inevitable evolution from tragedy, but with more distinct moral lines and a happy ending.
Closer examination, however, reveals that this foregone conclusion may be inaccurate. All of Shakespeare's comedies include an internal strife for the hero / heroine, as well as many of the other characteristics Booth lists, and maintain a happy ending. In Much Ado About Nothing, for example, the villainous Don John is irrationally dedicated to effecting the downfall of Hero and Claudius. In the end, they unite and he is vanquished. Therefore, melodrama is structurally aligned more closely with Shakespeare's comedies than his tragedies. The most problematic of these is The Merchant of Venice. The polarization of Shylock and Antonio is clear melodramatic Manichaeism, but the sympathy Shakespeare affords Shylock complicates both the humour, and the notion of a happy ending. From the perspective of Bassanio and his peers, the narrative ends quite happily. However, the perspective of Shylock paints a deep tragedy.
Nevertheless, tragedy holds more closely to the character delineations of melodrama in which usually one hero and heroine, linked romantically, are opposed to a single and singularly evil villain. Strong examples include Hamlet, Othello, and to a lesser degree, Richard III. In the simplicity of Manichaeistic opposition, tragedy is a progenitor of melodrama, apparently different only in the exchange of a tragic ending with a 'happy' one, in which only the villain is killed, if even he.
As early as 1681, Poet Laureate Nahum Tate had altered King Lear to include a happy ending. Amongst other alterations, Tate also penned a more tangible romance between Cordelia and Edgar to replace the less sentimental and often absent union with France. The inversion of Lear as a tragedy to incorporate a happy ending was as heretical to Shakespeare as it was puritanical to Tate’s own sensibilities. Nevertheless, it was widely used and is perhaps the boldest trend towards melodramatic modification in history, even though it pre-dates the golden age substantially. Child reports that in the earliest stages of the melodramatic age John Philip Kemble originally used the version of Lear edited by David Garrick. By 1809, however, after the rise of melodramatic popularity had begun, Kemble revised his version to one of more popular appeal, visibly influenced by Tate’s version, particularly including the romance between Cordelia and Edgar that he had instituted (Child 9). Surprisingly, at the popular height of the melodramatic genre, Kean chose to restore the tragic ending. Even though Tate’s footprint remains painfully visible in Kean’s version, his run of the show opened and closed in the same season in 1858 after only thirty-two performances (Cole 256). His run of Hamlet (at the Princess Theatre alone) lasted almost a decade, from 1850 until 1859 (Spencer - introduction to Kean’s Hamlet). The unTated Lear was so unpopular that even with generous attendance from the royal family (who apparently viewed it four times), in 1858 Kean suffered unrecovered losses of £4000, a sum close to 500000 current USD (Hunter - introduction to Kean’s Lear). Irving’s use of Tate’s Lear, then, might be considered an acceptance of what had become a standard and saleable version to audiences accustomed to the less emotionally cumbersome happy ending. Tate’s version is an outright alteration, not a mere cut, and is an example as rare as it is obvious. In other plays, the three actor/managers made more subtle edits in a contradictory attempt to accommodate rising melodramatic tastes and maintain the integrity of Shakespeare.
John Philip Kemble was a savvy actor/manager participating in the popularity of proto-melodrama. Although his popularity historically predates the golden age of melodrama, he so closely predates the genre that his versions of Shakespeare’s plays would certainly have been edited to accommodate rising melodramatic tastes. In fact, Woo historically places his career squarely within the earliest stages of British melodrama. "In 1798, Kemble played the lead in Mathew Lewis's The Castle Spectre, a splendidly successful melodrama that was the hottest ticket of the season" (Woo 61). In terms of his Shakespearean performances, however, Child claims that Kemble would never have generated revenues if he chose not to accommodate popular tastes (Child 19). In order to achieve this goal, Woo describes his acting and his editing as "reductive interpretations” characterized by a “simplicity of conception” (Woo 60). She also refers to his use of what she calls “stage tricks” that effectively impregnated his performances with substantial emotional impact (Woo 59). All of Woo's observations have the unifying tenor of moving away from Shakespeare’s text in favour of other modes of presentation. Kemble openly rejected theatrical conventions that gave precedence to social interactions of the audience and interrupted performances. Woo argues that Kemble systemically abrogated audience tastes while Fontane refers to his acquiescence to commercial considerations. The form of melodrama that would quickly emerge as popular and the increased simplicity of character that Kemble deployed give credibility to the latter perspective.
Kemble’s commercial considerations prompted him to anticipate melodramatic tastes and to edit Shakespeare’s plays accordingly. One of the most popular plays of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries was Shakespeare’s Henry VIII. As a tragedy it is weak and as a history it is gratuitous. In the introduction to Shakespeare’s texts published by Marshal and Kemble, Marshall sees the fall of Wolsey as a lesser venture by Shakespeare in comparison to his other works. He describes the action of the narrative as linear but constructed in disconnected episodes that are not integrated by careful characterization as they are in Lear or Hamlet (Shattuck 163 – Vol. 8). He sees this lack of character depth as “incredible” (that is to say as an aberration for Shakespeare). According to Marshall it would seem that Henry VIII is already melodramatic in the simplicity of its characters, but, as it is both a tragic and historical play, it is difficult to edify melodrama within it. Nevertheless, Kemble managed to create a version that actually plays like three simplistic mini-plots, all of which have melodramatic Manichaeism, rather than as a single unified story.
Kemble presents the first act with an evil Wolsey against the innocent Buckingham. Much of the first scene is eliminated, removing much of the historical intrigue and distilling the scene to an expository, if not cursory look at Wolsey’s involvement in the French/English conflict. He is painted as a “butcher’s cur” that is “venomed-mouthed” and “revengeful” (Shattuck - Vol. 8). Any text that provides subtext for Wolsey’s evil is excised. For example, in I.i, Shakespeare’s original version includes Norfolk’s ambiguously sympathetic description of him, which aligns him too closely with the will of heaven. “The force of his own merit makes his way - / A gift that heaven gives for him” (Craig). Furthermore, to separate the King from ill-doing, and reserve him for a later mini-plot, Buckingham’s speech “I’ll to the King” (Craig) in which he intimates the King’s mercy will save him is eliminated. Both heaven and the King are exonerated from Wolsey’s evil with the removal of Abergavenny’s “The will of heaven be done and the King’s pleasure / By me obeyed” (Craig). The heroism of Buckingham is further complicated when Henry describes his concerns against Buckingham. “When these so noble benefits shall prove / Not well disposed, the mind growing once corrupt, / They turn to vicious forms, ten times more ugly / Than ever they were fair” (Craig). Kemble removes the speech. The pathetic farewell speeches of Buckingham in II.i remain, and by the end of the scene, he is dead. The first mini-melodrama is over, and the plot moves in a different direction.
The second act highlights Henry’s love scheme and divorce plans. Hailing back to earlier melodramatic literature, the entire feel of Henry, his desire to divorce and take on a new young bride, apparently for lust, is entirely reminiscent of Manfred in Horace Walpole’s 1764 gothic classic, The Castle of Otranto. Kemble paints Anne as a naïve innocent. Her recognition of Katharine’s plight is heavily edited in II.iii. Kemble leaves intact her statement that “tis better to be lowly born / And range with humble livers” completing her simple country girl caricature, congruent with the impoverished heroines of melodrama (Shattuck). Kemble removes many of Anne’s lines that intimate a coy participation with Henry’s seduction. More importantly, in order to maintain Anne’s heroic simplicity, the entire coronation scene in Act IV is eliminated. No ambiguous avarice or rise to aristocratic power could possibly be so lavishly celebrated with such pomp and circumstance without compromising the character that Kemble tries to paint. That would be a little too much history, and not enough melodrama.
In a reversal from the earlier acts, Wolsey becomes tragically sympathetic. Wolsey’s speeches of humility to Henry are maintained in III.ii. However, beginning with “Mine own ends”, the rest of his speech is removed, thus divorcing his fall from any notion of selfish motives. Kemble maintains the scheming of Wolsey to thwart the King’s divorce and marriage, but edits it to appear as sympathy for the mistreated Katharine more than for personal avarice. Unlike Kean, Kemble maintains the pivotal speech in Act IV by Griffith extolling Wolsey’s virtues, thereby solidifying the tragedy of Wolsey against an evil Henry, but assigns it to Cromwell, having the extra effect of aligning Wolsey (Cromwell is closely associated with him, Griffith is not) with sympathy for Katharine. By the end of Act IV, Wolsey has been redeemed as the tragic champion of Katharine, Henry has been reduced to a salacious opportunist, Katharine to a tragically rejected loyal wife, and Anne to a beautiful but simple melodramatic heroine, unaware of her own appeal and void of responsibility for Katharine’s dismissal and death. One almost expects Buckingham to return to life and rescue Anne from Henry, sending him to his death and allowing Katharine the silent pride of widowhood. However, history cannot be altered so much as to allow a distinctly melodramatic outcome, and Kemble expertly weaves the emotional climaxes of melodrama, with its feminine pathos and innocence, and masculine evil, into the history of Shakespeare’s narrative.
The third episode overlaps substantially with the second. The fourth and fifth acts become celebratory: the happy unity of Anne and Henry resulting in the Christening of Elizabeth and the hope for the new royal domestic future. In Shakespeare’s time, this must have appealed to her immensely. When Shakespeare immodestly wrote that “our children’s children shall see this” in V.v, he probably had little idea how strongly he would arouse the pride and emotions of Kemble’s audience: the very “children’s children” of whom Shakespeare wrote (Marshall 53-4 – Vol. 4). In any case, the modification of characterization interacts substantially with the narrative structure of the play. Kemble’s removal of specific speeches results in an episodic plot of three mini-melodramas, unified by a melodramatic happy ending with the introduction of Elizabeth.
Kemble had a penchant for excising the wordy expositions of lesser characters that are typical at the beginnings of most scenes in the play. His reasons may well have been simply ones of economy, but certainly the removal of ‘excess baggage’ has the effect of a far more focused and simplified character interaction: no extras to confuse the simple narrative, and bore an audience weaned on spectacle. In order to control the narrative in this way, Kemble dispenses with all of the scenes with the unnamed gentlemen, and at the beginning of Act V, Kemble eliminates the exposition between Gardiner and Lovell. Kemble openly disliked the character of the Chamberlain. More than any other subsidiary character, many of his lines were cut, or assigned to another character if cutting them cost too much to the continuity of the play.
Nowhere are Kemble’s cuts to characters’ speeches more obvious than in Hamlet. In terms of the Manichaeistic polarization of good against evil, of all Shakespeare’s plays, Hamlet fits the dynamic best: a singular hero, a singular villain, and a love interest in the heroine Ophelia. The singular villain, however, is broken into several parts - the blocking agent to Ophelia and Hamlet's love is played by her father Polonius, and the actual deadly combat is against Laertes. However, both of these characters are aligned with Claudius and act as extensions, much like Snatchem and Bowse to Black Brandon in My Poll and My Partner Joe, or the outlaw gang in The Miller and His Men. The problem is that Laertes and Polonius are not so clearly evil. They are entirely unaware of Claudius' murder of King Hamlet. In order for the dynamic to work in a melodramatic structure, Polonius and Laertes must be made aware of the King's villainy, or the King must carry out all of their actions against Hamlet. Moreover, as the emotional motivation for the narrative plot, Ophelia's role must become much more prominent, and much of the dialogue that paints Hamlet as his own worst enemy must be removed. The story of Hamlet's mother becomes entirely extraneous except as a mere addition of the villain's crimes against the hero. Kemble effects all of these changes.
Kemble systemically removes any lines that paint Hamlet as unlovable, Claudius as sympathetic, or Ophelia as irrelevant. Hamlet’s speech in I.v that begins “O pernicious woman” is deleted (Timmins). The effect is to avoid characterizing Hamlet as malicious towards his mother. It exonerates her of any ill-doing, and reserves the evil described by the ghost exclusively to Claudius. "Kemble excised the King's speech of remorse as well as his first acknowledgement of guilt, thus rendering Claudius more completely evil" (Woo 60). Furthermore, "Instead of having Hamlet leap into Ophelia's grave after Laertes, Kemble's stage directions required Laertes to spring out of the grave and seize Hamlet - an unprecedented break with tradition" (Woo 61) and one that participates with other changes made by Kemble that systemically remove any ambiguity in the benevolent nature of his heroic-only depiction of Hamlet. Ophelia’s suggestion that Hamlet “had been loos’d out of hell” in II.i is cut from her larger speech (Timmins). In order to amplify the melodramatic heroine in Ophelia, very little of her often extraneous speeches are removed, maintaining a more prominent role for her character in an otherwise heavily edited text.
Perhaps the most astounding evidence of Kemble’s modifications to the characters’ speeches to fit a simple good/evil dichotomy comes in IV.vi. In the Q2 version, after Claudius has convinced Laertes to take part in his fencing scheme to kill Hamlet, Laertes answers, “I will do’t / And for the purpose, I’ll anoint my sword. / I bought an unction of a mountebank” (Timmins). The preconceived purchase of poison and Laertes’ addition to the scheme makes him not only complicit, but an active villain himself, which has no other effect but to spread thin the clear villainy of Claudius. In Volume Two of the Folger Facsimiles of Kemble’s promptbooks, he has crossed out the lines after “do’t”. In the margin below, Kemble has written a replacement for Laertes’ deleted lines:
King. To make all sure, your sword shall be anointed
With a contagion of so mortal nature,
That if you gall him slightly, it may be death.
Laer. My Lord, I will be rul’d” (Shattuck - Vol. 2).
Kemble replaces Laertes intent with obedience, thereby relegating Laertes to the position of a mere ‘henchman’ and isolating the evil plotting in the character of Claudius.
On a larger scale, Kemble substantially simplified the plot. "Kemble liked to clarify and essentialize the moral and ethical questions a given production was to wrestle with" (Woo 60). In order to minimize larger ethical questions, Kemble eliminates subplots. He removes much of the interactions between Polonius, Laertes, and Ophelia. He entirely removes the interaction between Polonius and Reynaldo in II.i and only maintains the scene at the entrance of Ophelia. Even minute allusions to external politics that might give the plot a larger context are systemically removed. For example, Kemble cuts Horatio’s lines describing the appearance of the ghost in which he says, “So frowned he once, when in an angry parle, / He smote the sledded Polacks on the ice” (Craig). Kemble removes the entire Norwegian plot with Fortinbras except for its mention in the opening and closing scenes. By removing the ‘external’ plot of Fortinbras, the main plot has the enclosed feeling of a domestic melodrama, and the political undercurrent intended by Shakespeare – the whittling away of internal integrity giving strength to an ever-present threat of external political conflict – is entirely removed from the interactions of the characters in Denmark and we are left with an ‘evil King vs. a heroic Prince’ dynamic, void of its larger context. With these many cuts either maintained from traditional edits handed down to Kemble, or implemented himself, the golden age of melodrama began.
The golden age of melodrama was heavily influenced by the Kean family. Edmund Kean excelled in roles such as Richard III, Iago, or Barabas in Kit Marlowe’s Jew of Malta (Hartnoll 178). All of these characters fall distinctly on the villainous side of the melodramatic divide. He modified the complex sympathy generated by Shylock into a more simplified stock, "making the character a swarthy fiend with a butcher's knife in his grasp and blood-lust in his eyes" (Hartnoll 178). The melodramatic tendencies of the father were not lost in influencing the son. Edmund and Charles chose the most Manichaeistically opposed villain and hero in all of Shakespeare's works to live out the as yet undiscovered Freudian dichotomy. History records only a single performance where the two graced the boards together, father as Othello, and son as Iago, at Covent Garden in 1833 before the end of Edmund’s career and life (Hartnoll 178). The most popular of Charles Kean’s plays realized the apex of the mature genre. "The Corsican Brothers [...] contains hero (a double one), heroine, villain, comic relief, sensational incident, elaborate settings, mood-reinforcing musical accompaniment, rhetoric, and a firm sense of poetic justice - all these being standard elements of melodrama" (Booth xv). Charles Kean was the paradigm actor/manager of the British melodrama.
Kean’s Henry VIII revisited many of the melodramatic cuts that Kemble employed. As was true in Kemble’s time, Fontane echoes Marshall’s opinion of the original text. Referring to Kean's hundredth production of Henry VIII, Fontane observes that "it remains a sketch, and it lacks the wealth of engaging characters necessary for dramatized history" (Fontane 41). In Fontane’s ingenuous description of Shakespeare in the era of Kean, he offers a sincere account of several productions, and an audience member’s perspective of Kean’s work. Fontane describes Miss Heath’s Anne as more of a melodramatic heroine. “[H]er effect is entirely pictorial. But a person who is so beautiful has no great need of speech. The radiance of her countenance as she stepped forth to her coronation was a splendid sight” (Fontane 46). Whether Kean intended this contrast with the famously dramatic pathos of Mrs. Kean’s Katharine is uncertain and improbable. Nevertheless, the whole effect would have been one that mitigated Anne’s unjust displacement of Katharine, and strengthened an audience’s melodramatic sensibilities towards Anne as heroine. Fontane argues that "[t]here are only three scenes in the entire play where the actor can touch the hearts of the spectator. These are Buckingham's speech at the beginning of Act Two, [. . .] the trial of the Queen at Blackfriar's; and finally the fall of Wolsey at the end of Act Three" (Fontane 42). Fontane reports that all three scenes were left in (Fontane 43).
Where Kemble’s modifications result in a tertiary of mini-melodramas, Kean’s cuts result in a simple singular plotline. Kean reinstated most of III.i that Kemble had entirely removed. Katharine’s speeches are full of pathos which, in Kemble’s version, amplifies the depiction of Henry as a villain. In Kean’s version, in concert with other cuts he made, the scene actually acts to villainize Wolsey against Henry. His disobedience to the King is highlighted and the tenor is of his sympathetic speeches to Katharine feels insincere. “If your grace / Could but be brought to know, our ends are honest / You’d feel more comfort. Pray, think us / Those we profess, peace-makers, friends, and servants” (Kean 57). The last two Acts are nearly deleted. Of some 864 spoken lines in the full text, Kean leaves only about 298 intact, according to the Cornmarket Press facsimile. The most important loss is the pivotal speech in Act IV by Griffith extolling Wolsey’s virtues. The overall effect is one of subverting all the troubling divorce / lust / death of Katharine nonsense that casts Henry in an ambiguous light. Kean places Henry in the role of hero, nearly thwarted by the scheming of Wolsey the villain, and to maintain the melodramatic continuity, Kean glosses over the last two acts, marginalizing Henry’s victimization of Katharine and making Anne the silent heroine who would have lost her partnership with a King if the evil Wolsey had succeeded.
Kean’s staging of the last two acts of Henry VIII is an early example of a melodramatic tableau. Fontane reports that "in Kean's version the final two acts are nothing more than living pictures" (Fontane 41). The description is reminiscent of the closing tableau in Beecher-Stowe’s Uncle Tom's Cabin, the single most successful example of American stage melodrama in the nineteenth century. The play ends with an on-stage 'pictorial' in which creates an emotional aesthetic. The stage direction for the finale tableau of the play reads, "Gorgeous clouds, tinted with sunlight. EVA, robed in white, is discovered on the back of a milk-white dove, with expanded wings, as if just soaring upward. Her hands are extended in benediction over ST. CLARE and UNCLE TOM who are kneeling and gazing up to her. Expressive music. Slow curtain" (Wise 65). Fontane’s description of the last two scenes of Kean’s Henry VIII in Kean’s choice of presentation has the double effect of creating the illusion of a singular plot-line and anticipating the tableau characteristic of melodrama, while maintaining the polarized simplification of characters, particularly Henry.
Kean’s cuts to Hamlet were equally ruthless. “He entirely omitted the King’s prayer scene and Hamlet’s meditation on revenge, as Kemble had done before” (Spencer – introduction to Kean’s Hamlet). Also like Kemble, he cut the scenes with “Voltimand and Cornelius and the Norwegian embassy” (Spencer – introduction to Kean’s Hamlet), the scene between Polonius and Reynaldo, the account of the success of the child actors, the account of the fight with the pirates at the opening V.ii, and the same comic moments that Kemble removed such as the Queen’s repetitive thanks to Guildenstern and Rosencrantz, apparently correcting the King’s confusion of them. The already short Act IV is cut so heavily that Kean manages to get it down to a single scene. By entirely removing the scene with Fortinbras, and by minimizing Hamlet’s coy responses to Rosencrantz, Guildenstern, and Claudius about the location of Polonius body, the scene plays as a double-entendre of madness between the hero and heroine. The first half of the scene is comic, rather than foul, as Hamlet ‘madly’ dodges inquiries about Polonius corpse. The second half focuses heavily on the madness of Ophelia, with only the bawdy parts of her songs removed, nearly identical to those removed by Kemble. Kean cuts more of Polonius’ lines than Kemble, most notably his “tragical-historical-pastoral” description of the players, thereby reducing his wordy characterization. In so doing, the play is substantially shortened, and it affords a heavier focus on the primary Claudius-Hamlet dichotomy.
The most interesting aspect of Kean’s version of Hamlet is his creation of episodic emotional crescendos. In his exploration of Henry Irving, Shakespearean Allan Hughes refers to "traditional business" and "points" in Hamlet that the theatre audiences in Irving's time had come to expect (Hughes 28). "These were moments when the actor was supposed to make a sensation by revealing, with a single vivid strike, the meaning of a scene, speech or action" (Hughes 28). For example, I.i ends with Horatio’s melodramatic “This spirit, dumb to us, will speak to him” (Kean 11) as opposed to the full text version, or Kemble’s, that ends with a more emotionally benign “Where we shall find him most convenient” (Timmins). Referring to Hamlet's rhyming couplet about catching the “conscience of the king” with the Mousetrap, Hughes states, "Well played, it is a thrilling moment, but inherently melodramatic. It is as arresting as a display of declamatory virtuosity; its single obvious meaning, however, may be inconsistent with Hamlet's character or a coherent interpretation of the play" (Hughes 29). Hughes makes clear the sacrifice of character and thematic interpretation in the name of an emotional scene-ending climax.
Kean makes a relevant cut at the end of every scene in the play that does not already have an emotional crescendo. He does the same with his version of Lear. Surprisingly, Kean, although influenced by Tate’s version of Lear restored the tragic ending. Nevertheless, his scene endings are “particularly truncated, to procure big ‘curtain’ effects” (Hunter – introduction to Kean’s Lear). Thorburn discusses modern television melodrama in exactly the same terms, constrained to have emotional crescendos before every commercial break. "That commercials have shaped television melodrama is decisive, of course. [...] Their essential effect has been the refinement of a segmented dramatic structure [...] whose capacity to surprise or otherwise engage its audience must therefore depend largely on the localized vividness and potency of the smaller units or episodes that comprise the whole" (Thorburn 599). These segments "achieve some sort of climactic or resolving pitch at the commercial break" (Thorburn 599). This melodramatic pattern explains Kean’s inclusion of Hamlet’s speech at the end of Act II that begins “O what a rogue and peasant slave am I” (Kean 46). Kemble cut most of the first part of the speech, but allowed for the melodramatic crescendo at the end of the scene. Much like the rising emotional episodes that Thorburn describes in television melodrama, Kean maintains the whole speech, allowing for a slower build up to a melodramatic crescendo of epic proportions.
Kemble started the pattern, but Kean perfected it. "Hazlitt […]described such roles as Hamlet wherein Kemble's intensity came across as a lamentable want of flexibility that detracted from the character, but critics agreed that Kemble shone at developing a buildup of emotion" (Woo 59). For Kean, the strongest example of this pattern is his edit to the final scene. Where Kemble allows for some 14 lines following Hamlet’s final words, Kean ends with the death of his melodramatic hero. The final line in his version is Hamlet’s “The potent poison quite o’ercrows my spirit; / The rest is silence” (Kean 104) “followed by a slow curtain” (Spencer). The rest is silence.
Henry Irving’s versions of the same plays are cut in much the same way Kean did with very few variations. Hughes describes his edits in detail. “Speeches which seem to contradict the prevailing romantic notion of a 'lovable' Hamlet were omitted" (Hughes 31). "Rosencrantz and Guildenstern's part in the scheme disappears with the scheme itself" (Hughes 33). In so doing, they are not complicit with Claudius, and Hamlet's revenge upon them is glossed. Hughes notes other relevant cuts including "Ophelia's description of his distracted visit to her closet" and "all traces of the voyage" along with the entire Rosencrantz and Guildenstern subplot (Hughes 34). Of course, both of these episodes, if left in, work to dilute Hamlet as a simplified hero and problematize him as lovable.
Hughes describes Irving’s cuts and reformulations to Lear as "ruthless surgery" and that "nothing can adequately replace the dramatist's [Shakespeare's] delicate juxtapositions or the disrupted patterns of imagery" (Hughes 119). In Irving’s Lear, "The Fool suffered heavily, of course: some of his most significant lines were cut, together with the response they elicited" from Lear and Kent (Hughes 119). It might seem ontologically that the Fool is a prototype of the comic melodramatic sidekick who saves the day. However, Lear's Fool was far too intelligent and aware to have been as accidentally humorous as such melodramatic buffoons as Tim Bobbin in The Murder in the Red Barn, or Watchful Waxend in My Poll and My Partner Joe. Moreover, he did nothing to 'save the day' and rather chastised Lear for being unable to.
Describing Irving's choices for editing, Hughes claims that he exercised a systemic hegemony of character of dialogue (Hughes 29). Hughes’ context for the word “character” refers to Irving's acting style. In a text where deep characterization is carried exclusively in the words, by ignoring them, Irving created characters that Hughes goes on to describe as "overemphasized by omissions, simplifications" (Hughes 29). Nevertheless, Hughes claims that his simplifications were lesser than those seen even today (Hughes 29) and that Irving's "characterization was so free of theatrical tricks, so naturalistic by prevailing standards, that the first audience in 1874 was baffled and failed to applaud until the third act" (Hughes 30). By the time of Irving’s performances, melodramatic conventions in Shakespeare had become so common that their absence left the audience bewildered.
Perhaps the most definitive characteristic of melodrama is characterization, or more specifically, the simplification of character for clarity of theme. Webster’s Dictionary defines melodrama as "a work (as a movie or play) characterized by extravagant theatricality and by the predominance of plot and physical action over characterization" (Merriam Webster's Deluxe Dictionary Tenth Collegiate Edition 1140). In fact, it takes characters that are designed to serve shallow plot functions to create melodrama.
Shakespeare’s plays were evidently full of melodramatic proto-pieces, but to access them required the destruction of Shakespeare’s larger artworks. Child notes that James Boaden's claims, in his pivotal historical text Memoirs of the Life of John Philip Kemble, Esq.: Including a History of the Stage, from the Time of Garrick to the Present Period, might be reinterpreted to suggest that Shakespeare’s texts could be relentlessly cut with very little loss to the narrative or the artistic whole and that Shakespeare’s texts were so unnecessarily wordy it appears that he wrote with the intention of his texts being cut to serve the whims of the audience or actors (Child 7). Certainly this perspective is congruent with Lepage's notion that “[d]ealing with Shakespeare we’re dealing with an avalanche of resources, a box of toys to be taken out” (Lepage). Nevertheless, Child's general thesis is that Kemble's changes were valiant efforts to restore "as much of Shakespeare's own language as he could" (Child 18) but that Kemble "did not see Shakespeare's drama as [...] a form which could not be altered without loss of dramatic power" (Child 7/8). He describes any changes to Shakespeare's original text as "spotted snakes with double tongue" (Child 7). The tenor of his description is that any edition to Shakespeare is a heresy against the original "artistic whole" (Child 7).
Although Shakespeare was a progenitor of English melodrama, providing ample material upon which to build it, his artistic whole, particularly in the pivotally important depth of characterization, and the interaction of his subplots, is not melodramatic. "Not Shakespeare! we should say now" (Child 22). Placing Shakespeare and melodrama in distinct opposition, Child argues that it took edits of careful precision to raise Shakespeare to a level of popular appeal that was competitive with more obvious presentations of spectacle. For Shakespeare to participate in the commercial popularity of melodrama required editing of "no small achievement" (Child 21). Kean created ‘commercial’ crescendos at the end of scenes, and Kemble created mini-melodramas (such as in his Henry VIII) within the larger narrative in an attempt to maintain as much integrity of the original work as possible. But Shakespeare had no intention of creating sporadic and episodic mini-melodramas. His integrated whole in every play, even those ostensibly immature, or created merely because he was pressed by the queen, offers far greater critical opportunities and thematic depth than those cut up bits of melodrama extracted from his plays. While it could be argued that Shakespeare and melodrama have many characteristics in common, their esoteric distinctions are clear. No amount of intelligentsia could make the intelligent observer unable to see their distinctions, even if those distinctions evade a clear verbalized definition.
The cross-section of plays and artists available for examination within the scope of this paper is admittedly limited. I have chosen plays that seem most likely to depict polarizations of 'hero/heroine' against 'villain' in order to focus on the significance of modifications to their characterization. There is a vast amount of research remaining to be done. Actors such as Charles Kemble, Edmund Kean, William MacReady, Ira Aldridge, and Edwin Booth all presented versions of Shakespeare's plays, and they all participated in the melodramatic genre. These actors, as well as the three I have examined, offered performances of more than the three Shakespeare plays on which I have focused. In his own time Shakespeare could not have been a melodramatist as the specific genre did not yet exist (except as a sort of proto-Manichaeism in many plays). In the golden age of British melodrama (1797-1899) his texts had to be radically modified to meet the needs of audiences desiring melodramatic fare. In our own age, with both the age of Shakespeare and the golden age of melodrama in hindsight, even the most officious editing of Shakespeare, now a standard practice to accommodate shorter audience attention spans, results in either campy spectacle or slow, deep characterization, but never both. What is most interesting is the fact that by simply editing the speeches of characters that otherwise lean toward protagonist or antagonist to remove ambiguity in the other direction, the structure becomes near perfect melodrama with very little damage to the plot of the narrative but with substantial loss to the artistic whole. One might liken the modifications made by Kemble, Kean, and Irving to the work of a sculptor carving out a work of art from an already existing block of marble. But in this case, the block of marble is already a complete work of art: indeed, a much more complex work than that chiseled out of it. While Shakespeare’s works included and encompassed melodramatic characteristics, the cuts required in the golden age of melodrama to make Shakespeare’s plays conform to audience taste compromised the larger integrated whole of his art. Quite simply, Shakespeare was not just a melodramatist, but rather a melodramatist and more.






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