Apologies for the months in between posts. Grad school does not allow for extra time for blogging.
Since brevity is the soul of wit, as well as a present necessity, I will be brief.
I've always been a logophile. I love words, which is probably why I enjoy Shakespeare's works as much as I do. As Shakespeareans like to point out, Shakespeare invented over 1500 words and phrases, many of which were adopted into common usage.
Wordsmithing is not a dead art, by all means. Science fiction is a treasure trove of new words, especially invented curse words. During my brief moments of relaxation, I have been watching sci-fi tv shows, and sometime, I have started compiling a list of alternate curse words of which I will provide a few examples (spelling questionable)
Smeg (from Red Dwarf)
Frak, Felgerkarb, Golmonging (from Battlestar Gallactica 1978)
Frell, Frellnick, Dren, Eema (from Farscape)
Doxy (from Firefly)
Some of these I've actually incorporated into my everyday vocabulary, and I am thoroughly amused by my pre-teen son's avid use of "smeg." This list is not anywhere near extensive; "hezmana," this is just a few off the top of my head.
Are there others you all know and love? If so, let me know.
Saturday, November 6, 2010
Friday, September 3, 2010
The Forbidden Planet: the crux of Shakespeare and sci-fi scholarship
When I first succumbed to my curiosity regarding the Shakespeare-sci-fi connection, I did what any good researcher would do; I looked to see who was writing what about the topic. Shakespeare and sci-fi is not a popular topic, or at least it is not one that has garnered serious academic attention and discussion, with one exception: the sci-fi rendition of The Tempest...aka The Forbidden Planet (1956). Not only is The Forbidden Planet a direct reinterpretation of a Shakespeare play, it is also been labeled as a science fiction classic. Regarding the movie’s creation and connection to the play, Simone Caroti explains that “Scriptwriter Hume and director Fred McLeod Wilcox wanted to make a film based on The Tempest that can preserve the play's sense of wonder, together with a few other themes the two happen to be keen on” (1). No wonder any discussion of Shakespeare and science fiction must necessarily incorporate The Forbidden Planet.
Now because The Forbidden Planet is a reinterpretation of The Tempest and not a retelling; the plot does differ. For example, the beginning tempestuous storm has been replaced by scenes and explanations of the technological advancements on the United Planets’ ship—discussions of light speed, rations, and stasis chambers. The metaphorical storm begins after the crew lands on Altair IV to discover why the colony sent there 20 years ago has seemingly disappeared. Upon arrival, the crew meets Dr. Morbius (Walter Pideon), a professor of philology and the sole survivor of the colony. Morbius is joined by his daughter, Altaira (Anne Francis) who was born after Morbius and his wife moved to Alataira IV, and his trusty mechanized companion and servant, Robbie the Robot. Robbie is interesting, not just because he is the first humanoid robot with a personality to be depicted in a movie but also because he is a strange combination of Ariel and Caliban. He is able to perform seemingly magical deeds, creating plants and animals from raw information, like Ariel; and is led astray by a drunken cook who cons Robbie into making 60 gallons of malt whiskey.
While trying to discover what happened to the rest of the colony, Commander J.J. Abrams (Leslie Nielson) and his men are attacked by an invisible monster that is more destructive and frightening that Shakespeare’s Caliban. The Commander, with the help of Altaira, Robbie, and the ship’s doctor, discover that Dr. Morbius, himself, is responsible for the monster wreaking havoc on both the new arrivals and the previous colonists. However, Morbius is unaware of his involvement. As he was stranded on the planet, Dr. Morbius discovered the remnants of an extinct—but technologically advanced—race called the Krell. Within the underground Krell environment, Morbius finds schematics to build advanced technologies, like Robbie, as well as equipment to strengthen and test the mind. While improving Morbius’ overall intelligence, the neurological technology, as the characters discover, creates a “monsters from the id”: violent physical, but yet invisible, manifestations of a psychological phenomenon.
As can be gathered, the plot of Forbidden Planet is highly divergent from Shakespeare’s original text. In fact, the movie does not even credit Shakespeare or officially cite the Tempest text. Film critics, writing contemporaneously with the original movie release, criticized the movie’s subversion of the Shakespearean text. However, this subversion does not necessarily need to be interpreted negatively. As Sara Martin reminds us, Shakespeare often reappropriated texts and stories for his own ends: “Shakespeare was unencumbered by the weight of textuality and authorship of his sources” (2). Plus the goal of Hume and Wilcox was not to recreate or retell The Tempest in space-age setting. Instead, they wanted to deal with the Shakespearean themes; they also hoped, that the loose association with Shakespeare would bring credibility to the genre of science fiction without changing the motifs of the genre (2).
At first when contemplating this post, I felt obligated to offer up my own analytical spin on this specific cross-genre connection because it is one of the few explored topics in Shakespeare and sci-fi, especially since many of the articles I looked at were (at worst) overly involved plot summaries that contained surface comparisons of the two texts and (at best) limited analysis of the cultural history of the movie and Shakespeare connection. At this point, I thought it might be interesting to ruminate for a moment on why, when asked to explore Shakespeare and sci-fi, most academics create a one-off (dare I say throw-away) article about The Forbidden Planet instead exploring deeper issues.
I) This rehashing of (or, to be a bit nicer, building on) old arguments is easier than rethinking the way we conceptualize Shakespeare through science fiction or science fiction through Shakespeare.
II) The Forbidden Planet’s status as a “classic film” allows for more academic credibility than something more mainstream like Star Trek, Doctor Who, etc.
III) Perhaps, this phenomenon is a result of the academic dabbler; in other words, an academic in Shakespearean studies must only dabble or indulge in these moments science fiction cross-pollination.
IV) Perhaps, not enough Shakespearean’s are sci-fi super fans.
Trying to find an answer to this question might be pointless, but it seems to me that the Shakespeare/sci-fi connection is ripe with possibilities. Possibilities that ARE being explored but not by academics. Ever since starting this blog, I have been inundated with shared links, book/movie/TV suggestions, chance encounters and discoveries of Shakespeare/sci-fi paraphernalia and cross-over goodies, but they all come from pop-culture presses and modes of entertainment.
Now that I have fulfilled my obligation to the academic standby—the Forbidden Planet essay—I can move on to something with a bit more depth. I want to go where no academic has gone before.
To give you a sneak peak, I am currently working on a post about Shakespeare and dystopian fiction. The working title is “Shakespeare and the voice of dystopian unrest.” I will be looking at, specifically, V for Vendetta and Brave New World as my sci-fi texts, but, dear readers, if you have any suggestions for sources, please feel free to send them on.
(1) Simone Caroti, "Science Fiction, Forbidden Planet, and Shakespeare’s The Tempest" CLCWeb: Comparative Literature and Culture 6.1 (2004): http://docs.lib.purdue.edu/clcweb/vol6/iss1/11
(2) Sara Martin, “Classic Shakespeare for all: Forbidden Planet and Prospero’s Books, to screen adaptations of The Tempest.” Classics in Film and Fiction. Eds. Hunter and Whelehan. (London: Pluto Press, 2000). Pg 34-53.
Now because The Forbidden Planet is a reinterpretation of The Tempest and not a retelling; the plot does differ. For example, the beginning tempestuous storm has been replaced by scenes and explanations of the technological advancements on the United Planets’ ship—discussions of light speed, rations, and stasis chambers. The metaphorical storm begins after the crew lands on Altair IV to discover why the colony sent there 20 years ago has seemingly disappeared. Upon arrival, the crew meets Dr. Morbius (Walter Pideon), a professor of philology and the sole survivor of the colony. Morbius is joined by his daughter, Altaira (Anne Francis) who was born after Morbius and his wife moved to Alataira IV, and his trusty mechanized companion and servant, Robbie the Robot. Robbie is interesting, not just because he is the first humanoid robot with a personality to be depicted in a movie but also because he is a strange combination of Ariel and Caliban. He is able to perform seemingly magical deeds, creating plants and animals from raw information, like Ariel; and is led astray by a drunken cook who cons Robbie into making 60 gallons of malt whiskey.
While trying to discover what happened to the rest of the colony, Commander J.J. Abrams (Leslie Nielson) and his men are attacked by an invisible monster that is more destructive and frightening that Shakespeare’s Caliban. The Commander, with the help of Altaira, Robbie, and the ship’s doctor, discover that Dr. Morbius, himself, is responsible for the monster wreaking havoc on both the new arrivals and the previous colonists. However, Morbius is unaware of his involvement. As he was stranded on the planet, Dr. Morbius discovered the remnants of an extinct—but technologically advanced—race called the Krell. Within the underground Krell environment, Morbius finds schematics to build advanced technologies, like Robbie, as well as equipment to strengthen and test the mind. While improving Morbius’ overall intelligence, the neurological technology, as the characters discover, creates a “monsters from the id”: violent physical, but yet invisible, manifestations of a psychological phenomenon.
As can be gathered, the plot of Forbidden Planet is highly divergent from Shakespeare’s original text. In fact, the movie does not even credit Shakespeare or officially cite the Tempest text. Film critics, writing contemporaneously with the original movie release, criticized the movie’s subversion of the Shakespearean text. However, this subversion does not necessarily need to be interpreted negatively. As Sara Martin reminds us, Shakespeare often reappropriated texts and stories for his own ends: “Shakespeare was unencumbered by the weight of textuality and authorship of his sources” (2). Plus the goal of Hume and Wilcox was not to recreate or retell The Tempest in space-age setting. Instead, they wanted to deal with the Shakespearean themes; they also hoped, that the loose association with Shakespeare would bring credibility to the genre of science fiction without changing the motifs of the genre (2).
At first when contemplating this post, I felt obligated to offer up my own analytical spin on this specific cross-genre connection because it is one of the few explored topics in Shakespeare and sci-fi, especially since many of the articles I looked at were (at worst) overly involved plot summaries that contained surface comparisons of the two texts and (at best) limited analysis of the cultural history of the movie and Shakespeare connection. At this point, I thought it might be interesting to ruminate for a moment on why, when asked to explore Shakespeare and sci-fi, most academics create a one-off (dare I say throw-away) article about The Forbidden Planet instead exploring deeper issues.
I) This rehashing of (or, to be a bit nicer, building on) old arguments is easier than rethinking the way we conceptualize Shakespeare through science fiction or science fiction through Shakespeare.
II) The Forbidden Planet’s status as a “classic film” allows for more academic credibility than something more mainstream like Star Trek, Doctor Who, etc.
III) Perhaps, this phenomenon is a result of the academic dabbler; in other words, an academic in Shakespearean studies must only dabble or indulge in these moments science fiction cross-pollination.
IV) Perhaps, not enough Shakespearean’s are sci-fi super fans.
Trying to find an answer to this question might be pointless, but it seems to me that the Shakespeare/sci-fi connection is ripe with possibilities. Possibilities that ARE being explored but not by academics. Ever since starting this blog, I have been inundated with shared links, book/movie/TV suggestions, chance encounters and discoveries of Shakespeare/sci-fi paraphernalia and cross-over goodies, but they all come from pop-culture presses and modes of entertainment.
Now that I have fulfilled my obligation to the academic standby—the Forbidden Planet essay—I can move on to something with a bit more depth. I want to go where no academic has gone before.
To give you a sneak peak, I am currently working on a post about Shakespeare and dystopian fiction. The working title is “Shakespeare and the voice of dystopian unrest.” I will be looking at, specifically, V for Vendetta and Brave New World as my sci-fi texts, but, dear readers, if you have any suggestions for sources, please feel free to send them on.
(1) Simone Caroti, "Science Fiction, Forbidden Planet, and Shakespeare’s The Tempest" CLCWeb: Comparative Literature and Culture 6.1 (2004): http://docs.lib.purdue.edu/clcweb/vol6/iss1/11
(2) Sara Martin, “Classic Shakespeare for all: Forbidden Planet and Prospero’s Books, to screen adaptations of The Tempest.” Classics in Film and Fiction. Eds. Hunter and Whelehan. (London: Pluto Press, 2000). Pg 34-53.
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Where good actors go to die? Not!!
Ladies and gentlemen, I bring you now to a fictionalized sci-fi convention in Seattle, WA, where Frasier Crane (played by Kelsey Grammer) spies one of his childhood heroes, former Shakespearean actor turned sci-fi tv android, Jackson Hedley (played by the incomparable Derek Jacobi). Yes, dear readers, we are watching an episode of Frasier (“The Show Must Go Off” season 8), which may seem like a strange place to start for a Shakespeare/Sci-fi blog. On the contrary, reader, this episode is the perfect place to start a discussion of Shakespeare/Sci-fi crossover actors.
Here is a brief summation of the episode (if you’d rather watch it, as of now, it is available on youtube). Frasier and Roz are attending a sci-fi convention in order to purchase X-Men comics for Frasier’s son, Freddy, a task Frasier finds absolutely demeaning. After asking a Klingon for directions to the comics tables, Frasier spies Jackson, the Shakespearean actor who “opened [Frasier’s] young eyes to the wonders of Shakespeare.” Frasier finds Jackson’s role as an android in a sci-fi tv show “demeaning,” and he bemoans that fact that Jackson was “reduced” to science fiction television and conventions, when he was, or at least Frasier remembers him to be, “the man that defined Hamlet.” Because science fiction acting is a “waste of talent” that “no artist should endure,” Frasier and Niles plan Jackson’s come back. As they produce, Jackson’s one-man Shakespeare extravaganza, they realize what a horrible actor he really is and, by viewing an early recorded performance of Jackson’s show, has always been. The rest of the show revolves around Frasier and Niles’s antics to stop the production from happening, but the show does go on. The brothers Crane are publicly and artistically humiliated. The man that defined Hamlet for them was a crap actor. Shakespeare’s grandeur, then, is based on their overly-nostalgic and overly-glorified childhood memories.
As the Frasier episode illustrates, several common stereotypes or assumptions exist about the value of both Shakespearean and sci-fi acting: 1) Shakespeare is “real” acting; everything else pales in comparison. (AKA Shakespearean snobbery), 2) Sci-fi is where bad actors find employment, 3) Should a good actor be cast in sci-fi roles, his/her talent will diminish, 4) Shakespearean acting and sci-fi acting are two opposing ends of the acting spectrum and ne’er the twain shall meet.
In the episode, Frasier’s detestation of sci-fi acting practically oozes from the screen, until the viewer can almost taste the bitterness of snobbery. As the Crane brother’s illustrate so well, a palpable snobbery seems integral to the interpretations of various levels of acting; Shakespeare being the most snooty. Now this is not to detract from good Shakespearean actors who may or may not share in this prejudice, but the acting hierarchy does exist. For example, within the acting profession there is an assumption that being in a Shakespearean play will boost an actor’s credibility. Because if an actor can (or even just does) play one of Shakespeare’s great roles, then he or she will have more credibility as an actor. Well it worked for Keanu Reeves, didn’t it?
To boost his credibility, Keanu Reeves traveled to Canada to perform in a production of Hamlet, a reality that was fictionalized in the Canadian TV show Slings and Arrows. The reviews of the Reeves’ Hamlet are not overtly negative; one critic said “Keanu is Hamlet.” He defined Hamlet, but, yet, so did Jackson Hedley? Other reviews were summations of the play or descriptions of the scenery and costuming. What I found most odd, were the numerous reviews that almost blatantly refused to comment on Reeves’ performance. If you can’t say something nice....? Well perhaps. Not having seen the Reeves’ Hamlet, I cannot really comment on his performance, but if Reeves’ performance as an overly emo Don John in Kenneth Brannagh’s Much Ado is any indication, then Reeves’ typical mode of acting does not meet the skills and requirements of good Shakespearean acting. He is a flat actor; thus he plays similarly flat roles. It is hard to imagine him playing Hamlet, who is anything but flat.
Shakespearean acting is not “real” acting, and all other modes of acting are not “fake” in comparison. Shakespearean acting, like any other kind of acting, requires a certain skill set. Unfortunately not all actors have this skill set, but that does not mean they are lesser actors. Denzel Washington is a great example of this. In the same version of Much Ado, Washington, playing Don Pedro, struggles with the flow and rhythm of the lines throughout the movie. Now Washington is a great actor whom I have admired for years, but his inability to converse in iambic pentameter gets in the way of his performance. Oh well...that doesn’t mean he’s any less of an actor. I mean...have you seen American Gangster? Amazing!
There is no denying that Shakespeare is commonly viewed as high-brow entertainment for the snobby intellectual and science fiction is viewed as the low-brow popular entertainment of the sad and disillusioned. Shakespeare is high-art, and science fiction low-art. Frasier endorses these perceptions in with his snide attitude toward the other convention attendees.
But before continuing, I’d like to remind us all that during the time Shakespeare was writing his plays, theatre was the popular low-brow entertainment. Shakespeare created his works for the common public, as well his high-class patrons and audience members. What made Shakespeare such a popular playwright during his day was his ability to write in numerous linguistic registers. Shakespeare had at his command a range of dialectic and linguistic modes allowing him to create characters like Poins, the uneducated tavern crawler; Hotspur, the hot-headed aristocrat; Glendower, the overly self-confident Welshman; The Douglas, the Scotsman, King Henry IV, the aristocratic usurper of the throne; Falstaff, the cowardly and thieving nobleman; and Prince Hal, the man who, like Shakespeare “can drink with any tinker in his own language” (1 HIV 2.3). Because of this, I think the Shakespearean snobbery is detrimental to understanding and interacting with Shakespeare’s texts. I might go so far as to say it goes against Shakespeare’s own perception of the theatre (as can be gleaned from his works, since we have no recorded statement from Shakespeare about how he viewed the theatre).
But I digress...
Despite the apparent gulf between Shakespearean acting and sci-fi acting, numerous actors have, almost effortlessly, have hopped from one side to the other and back. The incomparable Derek Jacobi, himself, is a prime example. He has played The Master/Professor Yana in Doctor Who and has done numerous Shakespearean productions, including playing Claudius in Kenneth Branagh’s Hamlet. The Doctor Who-Hamlet crossover has also been attempted by David Tennant, whose quirky yet brooding performance of Hamlet completely overshadows Brannagh’s stiff and emo version. Of course, we cannot forget the Claudius to Tennant’s Hamlet, Patrick Stewart, who was amazing in Hamlet and has performed in Shakespeare’s The Tempest, a race-reversed version of Othello, and soon to be on BBC TV Macbeth. Picard....um...I mean Stewart is a wonderfully talented actor whether on stage or on a starship. Ian Mckellen, Patrick’s fellow mutant in the X-Men movies, is also an avid Shakespearean actor. His portrayal of Lear was fantastic because of his ability to transform his entire demeanor and body posture to portray Lear’s age and weakness. I feel at this point I am just rambling off names....I could go on (heck you guys contribute some of your favs)...but that would take forever.
What unites Shakespeare and science fiction? Why is does it seem that great sci-fi actors are also great Shakespearean actors, especially when the common snobbish perception would lead us to believe otherwise? The answer actually came to me while watching Them! (1954), a wonderful classic sci-fi movie about giant radioactively-mutated ants. Both Shakespeare’s works and science fiction movies/TV shows require an ability to interact, realistically with elements of fantasy. Shakespeare’s The Tempest or King Lear ask us to imagine eerie and powerful storms, Macbeth and Hamlet require ghosts, and on stage especially, the effects can never quite match up to reality. The actor then must convincingly stage his/her reaction to the supernatural events taking place in order to convince the viewer of its realness. This suspension of disbelief is also necessary for interactions with representations of the paranormal. For example in Them!, actors James Whitmore and James Arness have to convince the viewer of the imminent danger these giant prosthetic ants present. In science fiction, as in Shakespeare, the actor’s interaction with the fantastical makes it real. Not all actors can do this. It’s easy to understand and depict realism...fantasy must be convincing to be real.
I am sure there are more possible answers for this Shakespeare/sci-fi phenomenon; however, I think those answers will need to be explored later. For now, I think I will just enjoy the research.
Here is a brief summation of the episode (if you’d rather watch it, as of now, it is available on youtube). Frasier and Roz are attending a sci-fi convention in order to purchase X-Men comics for Frasier’s son, Freddy, a task Frasier finds absolutely demeaning. After asking a Klingon for directions to the comics tables, Frasier spies Jackson, the Shakespearean actor who “opened [Frasier’s] young eyes to the wonders of Shakespeare.” Frasier finds Jackson’s role as an android in a sci-fi tv show “demeaning,” and he bemoans that fact that Jackson was “reduced” to science fiction television and conventions, when he was, or at least Frasier remembers him to be, “the man that defined Hamlet.” Because science fiction acting is a “waste of talent” that “no artist should endure,” Frasier and Niles plan Jackson’s come back. As they produce, Jackson’s one-man Shakespeare extravaganza, they realize what a horrible actor he really is and, by viewing an early recorded performance of Jackson’s show, has always been. The rest of the show revolves around Frasier and Niles’s antics to stop the production from happening, but the show does go on. The brothers Crane are publicly and artistically humiliated. The man that defined Hamlet for them was a crap actor. Shakespeare’s grandeur, then, is based on their overly-nostalgic and overly-glorified childhood memories.
As the Frasier episode illustrates, several common stereotypes or assumptions exist about the value of both Shakespearean and sci-fi acting: 1) Shakespeare is “real” acting; everything else pales in comparison. (AKA Shakespearean snobbery), 2) Sci-fi is where bad actors find employment, 3) Should a good actor be cast in sci-fi roles, his/her talent will diminish, 4) Shakespearean acting and sci-fi acting are two opposing ends of the acting spectrum and ne’er the twain shall meet.
In the episode, Frasier’s detestation of sci-fi acting practically oozes from the screen, until the viewer can almost taste the bitterness of snobbery. As the Crane brother’s illustrate so well, a palpable snobbery seems integral to the interpretations of various levels of acting; Shakespeare being the most snooty. Now this is not to detract from good Shakespearean actors who may or may not share in this prejudice, but the acting hierarchy does exist. For example, within the acting profession there is an assumption that being in a Shakespearean play will boost an actor’s credibility. Because if an actor can (or even just does) play one of Shakespeare’s great roles, then he or she will have more credibility as an actor. Well it worked for Keanu Reeves, didn’t it?
To boost his credibility, Keanu Reeves traveled to Canada to perform in a production of Hamlet, a reality that was fictionalized in the Canadian TV show Slings and Arrows. The reviews of the Reeves’ Hamlet are not overtly negative; one critic said “Keanu is Hamlet.” He defined Hamlet, but, yet, so did Jackson Hedley? Other reviews were summations of the play or descriptions of the scenery and costuming. What I found most odd, were the numerous reviews that almost blatantly refused to comment on Reeves’ performance. If you can’t say something nice....? Well perhaps. Not having seen the Reeves’ Hamlet, I cannot really comment on his performance, but if Reeves’ performance as an overly emo Don John in Kenneth Brannagh’s Much Ado is any indication, then Reeves’ typical mode of acting does not meet the skills and requirements of good Shakespearean acting. He is a flat actor; thus he plays similarly flat roles. It is hard to imagine him playing Hamlet, who is anything but flat.
Shakespearean acting is not “real” acting, and all other modes of acting are not “fake” in comparison. Shakespearean acting, like any other kind of acting, requires a certain skill set. Unfortunately not all actors have this skill set, but that does not mean they are lesser actors. Denzel Washington is a great example of this. In the same version of Much Ado, Washington, playing Don Pedro, struggles with the flow and rhythm of the lines throughout the movie. Now Washington is a great actor whom I have admired for years, but his inability to converse in iambic pentameter gets in the way of his performance. Oh well...that doesn’t mean he’s any less of an actor. I mean...have you seen American Gangster? Amazing!
There is no denying that Shakespeare is commonly viewed as high-brow entertainment for the snobby intellectual and science fiction is viewed as the low-brow popular entertainment of the sad and disillusioned. Shakespeare is high-art, and science fiction low-art. Frasier endorses these perceptions in with his snide attitude toward the other convention attendees.
But before continuing, I’d like to remind us all that during the time Shakespeare was writing his plays, theatre was the popular low-brow entertainment. Shakespeare created his works for the common public, as well his high-class patrons and audience members. What made Shakespeare such a popular playwright during his day was his ability to write in numerous linguistic registers. Shakespeare had at his command a range of dialectic and linguistic modes allowing him to create characters like Poins, the uneducated tavern crawler; Hotspur, the hot-headed aristocrat; Glendower, the overly self-confident Welshman; The Douglas, the Scotsman, King Henry IV, the aristocratic usurper of the throne; Falstaff, the cowardly and thieving nobleman; and Prince Hal, the man who, like Shakespeare “can drink with any tinker in his own language” (1 HIV 2.3). Because of this, I think the Shakespearean snobbery is detrimental to understanding and interacting with Shakespeare’s texts. I might go so far as to say it goes against Shakespeare’s own perception of the theatre (as can be gleaned from his works, since we have no recorded statement from Shakespeare about how he viewed the theatre).
But I digress...
Despite the apparent gulf between Shakespearean acting and sci-fi acting, numerous actors have, almost effortlessly, have hopped from one side to the other and back. The incomparable Derek Jacobi, himself, is a prime example. He has played The Master/Professor Yana in Doctor Who and has done numerous Shakespearean productions, including playing Claudius in Kenneth Branagh’s Hamlet. The Doctor Who-Hamlet crossover has also been attempted by David Tennant, whose quirky yet brooding performance of Hamlet completely overshadows Brannagh’s stiff and emo version. Of course, we cannot forget the Claudius to Tennant’s Hamlet, Patrick Stewart, who was amazing in Hamlet and has performed in Shakespeare’s The Tempest, a race-reversed version of Othello, and soon to be on BBC TV Macbeth. Picard....um...I mean Stewart is a wonderfully talented actor whether on stage or on a starship. Ian Mckellen, Patrick’s fellow mutant in the X-Men movies, is also an avid Shakespearean actor. His portrayal of Lear was fantastic because of his ability to transform his entire demeanor and body posture to portray Lear’s age and weakness. I feel at this point I am just rambling off names....I could go on (heck you guys contribute some of your favs)...but that would take forever.
What unites Shakespeare and science fiction? Why is does it seem that great sci-fi actors are also great Shakespearean actors, especially when the common snobbish perception would lead us to believe otherwise? The answer actually came to me while watching Them! (1954), a wonderful classic sci-fi movie about giant radioactively-mutated ants. Both Shakespeare’s works and science fiction movies/TV shows require an ability to interact, realistically with elements of fantasy. Shakespeare’s The Tempest or King Lear ask us to imagine eerie and powerful storms, Macbeth and Hamlet require ghosts, and on stage especially, the effects can never quite match up to reality. The actor then must convincingly stage his/her reaction to the supernatural events taking place in order to convince the viewer of its realness. This suspension of disbelief is also necessary for interactions with representations of the paranormal. For example in Them!, actors James Whitmore and James Arness have to convince the viewer of the imminent danger these giant prosthetic ants present. In science fiction, as in Shakespeare, the actor’s interaction with the fantastical makes it real. Not all actors can do this. It’s easy to understand and depict realism...fantasy must be convincing to be real.
I am sure there are more possible answers for this Shakespeare/sci-fi phenomenon; however, I think those answers will need to be explored later. For now, I think I will just enjoy the research.
Monday, July 19, 2010
What is BARDIS?
BARDIS is a blog dedicated to my two favorite forms of entertainment: Shakespeareana and science fiction. My goal is to explore the interrelationships between Shakespeare and science fiction in order to understand why these two genres have become entangled and what is produced from these entanglements. I do not come into this venture with any preconceived answers; instead with an open mind, I will use Shakespeare’s written texts, live and recorded performances of Shakespeare’s plays along with science fiction novels, graphic novels, movies, and television shows to explore the thematic, dramatic, artistic, and linguistic links between Shakespeare and science fiction. Because I am a PhD student in Renaissance literature, my approach will be academic but certainly not pretentious. With this blog, I am allowing myself to indulgently embrace the dork-side, to unapologetically geek-out on Shakespeare and science fiction, and to, hopefully, entice others to share in these nerdy intellectual pleasures.
The name BARDIS, as some of you may already have realized, is a combination of Bard and TARDIS, the time and space traveling device used by the Doctor in the BBC sci-fi program Doctor Who. The title was not idly chosen for wit’s sake. Instead, the TARDIS provides an apt metaphor for the amazing power contained in the seemingly small (albeit relatively large for a book) Collected Works of William Shakespeare. Upon first entering the TARDIS, all visitors are amazed by the immense size of the inside compared to the relatively small Police Box exterior. As Tom Baker explains in this clip, the TARDIS exists in two different dimensions simultaneously.
Accordingly, Shakespeare’s works live in two dimensions: the original time and space where the plays were written and the time and space the works have been read or performed since their initial creation. The TARDIS-like qualities of Shakespeare’s plays allows them to be redone and recapitulated to incorporate diverse settings of time and place. The constant reinterpretation of Shakespeare works shows their richness and universality.
Like the TARDIS, Shakespeare’s theatrical works not only exist within two dimensions but also manipulate the linearity of time. As curmudgeonly Ben Jonson regularly complained, Shakespeare did not abide by the Aristotelian unities of theatrical time and space; Shakespeare would shove decades into three short hours (All Is True, Antony and Cleopatra, and A Winter’s Tale are notable examples). Time and space are relative and manipulable because as Time himself tells us, “it is in my power to o’erthrow law and in one self-born hour to plant and o’verwhelm custom” (4.1.7-9) Time abides by its own laws, and the playwright, being in control of theatrical time, can “o’erthrow” linear time, and Shakespeare o’erthrows time—through anachronisms, flashbacks and flashforwards, and compression of time. However, Time asserts that he will be unchanged:
...Let me pass
The same I am, ere ancient'st order was
Or what is now received: I witness to
The times that brought them in; so shall I do
To the freshest things now reigning and make stale
The glistering of this present, as my tale
Now seems to it. ( Winter's Tale 4.1.9-15)
Shakespeare’s plays allow for a the staging of non-linear time while the linearity of the performance itself is uninterrupted. But despite Time’s assertion that he will never change, Shakespeare, much like the Doctor, continually manipulates time to create the ending he desires; thus, denying Time’s power over humanity and the world, as is especially apparent in the history plays. Perhaps, Shakespeare is a Time-Lord.
TARDIS, itself, is an acronym for Time and Relative Dimension is Space. BARDIS as well is an acronym that stands for Because Aliens Really Did Invent Shakespeare, a completely facetious statement that ultimately, I know, will always be funnier to me than it is to you, dear reader. However, the acronym does have its origins in a real-life scholastic quibble focusing on the question, “Who really wrote Shakespeare’s works?” The Shakespeare author debates have raged for years. Academics and Shakespeare naysayers have offered up several different options for the true author of Shakespeare’s works including Henry Neville, Francis Bacon, and Edward De Vere, Earl of Oxford. Those that claim that someone else wrote Shakespeare’s works use Shakespeare’s lack of education and the possible existence of complicated codes that name the true author. In the midst of this discussion, authors have joking implied that perhaps, just perhaps, Shakespeare was an alien. This possibility is make reality in Star Trek VI: The Undiscovered Country, where General Chang states, “You have not experienced Shakespeare until you have read him in the original Klingon.” Well, then, let us experience truly experience Shakespeare...
Well whether Shakespeare is from Kronos, Gallifrey, or Earth, he has a continued and profound impact the sci-fi culture; I look forward to exploring these connections.
The name BARDIS, as some of you may already have realized, is a combination of Bard and TARDIS, the time and space traveling device used by the Doctor in the BBC sci-fi program Doctor Who. The title was not idly chosen for wit’s sake. Instead, the TARDIS provides an apt metaphor for the amazing power contained in the seemingly small (albeit relatively large for a book) Collected Works of William Shakespeare. Upon first entering the TARDIS, all visitors are amazed by the immense size of the inside compared to the relatively small Police Box exterior. As Tom Baker explains in this clip, the TARDIS exists in two different dimensions simultaneously.
Accordingly, Shakespeare’s works live in two dimensions: the original time and space where the plays were written and the time and space the works have been read or performed since their initial creation. The TARDIS-like qualities of Shakespeare’s plays allows them to be redone and recapitulated to incorporate diverse settings of time and place. The constant reinterpretation of Shakespeare works shows their richness and universality.
Like the TARDIS, Shakespeare’s theatrical works not only exist within two dimensions but also manipulate the linearity of time. As curmudgeonly Ben Jonson regularly complained, Shakespeare did not abide by the Aristotelian unities of theatrical time and space; Shakespeare would shove decades into three short hours (All Is True, Antony and Cleopatra, and A Winter’s Tale are notable examples). Time and space are relative and manipulable because as Time himself tells us, “it is in my power to o’erthrow law and in one self-born hour to plant and o’verwhelm custom” (4.1.7-9) Time abides by its own laws, and the playwright, being in control of theatrical time, can “o’erthrow” linear time, and Shakespeare o’erthrows time—through anachronisms, flashbacks and flashforwards, and compression of time. However, Time asserts that he will be unchanged:
...Let me pass
The same I am, ere ancient'st order was
Or what is now received: I witness to
The times that brought them in; so shall I do
To the freshest things now reigning and make stale
The glistering of this present, as my tale
Now seems to it. ( Winter's Tale 4.1.9-15)
Shakespeare’s plays allow for a the staging of non-linear time while the linearity of the performance itself is uninterrupted. But despite Time’s assertion that he will never change, Shakespeare, much like the Doctor, continually manipulates time to create the ending he desires; thus, denying Time’s power over humanity and the world, as is especially apparent in the history plays. Perhaps, Shakespeare is a Time-Lord.
TARDIS, itself, is an acronym for Time and Relative Dimension is Space. BARDIS as well is an acronym that stands for Because Aliens Really Did Invent Shakespeare, a completely facetious statement that ultimately, I know, will always be funnier to me than it is to you, dear reader. However, the acronym does have its origins in a real-life scholastic quibble focusing on the question, “Who really wrote Shakespeare’s works?” The Shakespeare author debates have raged for years. Academics and Shakespeare naysayers have offered up several different options for the true author of Shakespeare’s works including Henry Neville, Francis Bacon, and Edward De Vere, Earl of Oxford. Those that claim that someone else wrote Shakespeare’s works use Shakespeare’s lack of education and the possible existence of complicated codes that name the true author. In the midst of this discussion, authors have joking implied that perhaps, just perhaps, Shakespeare was an alien. This possibility is make reality in Star Trek VI: The Undiscovered Country, where General Chang states, “You have not experienced Shakespeare until you have read him in the original Klingon.” Well, then, let us experience truly experience Shakespeare...
Well whether Shakespeare is from Kronos, Gallifrey, or Earth, he has a continued and profound impact the sci-fi culture; I look forward to exploring these connections.
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