Hamlet, Act 1 through a Mythological lens:
Immediately, we see that Shakespeare's Denmark is a land populated by superstitious people - A ghost appears before Bernardo, Fransisco and Marcellus and Horatio, and they comment that the night time is the time for things like witches and goblins, to explain away the ghosts disappearance at the cock's crow. Hamlet is right off the bat participating in a literary tradition of tales in which the dead communicate with the living. The Ghost is an acknowledgement of the mythological climate of Shakespeare’s era.
As for young Hamlet himself, he is a reflection of a Campbellian hero, in that he is tasked with a quest (revenge) by a father figure (ghost of his father) in a way indicating magical gravity (he’s a flipping ghost) that he must complete to bring order to the world. Or so he thinks.
A few other archetypes are also filled, though it should be recognized that many of our current day archetypes were crafted by Shakespeare himself. Polonius is another father figure, but of a different variety - he’s the one just FILLED with wisdom, who can’t keep himself from bestowing his wise wisdom to his children. They don’t seem too keen on it.
In fact, I imagine that they get this from Polonius a lot - Laertes seemed mighty keen on getting out of there.
All in all, act 1 is in many ways a set up, ramp up kind of act. It introduces the characters and major plot information: This is Hamlet, Claudius, Ophelia, Gertrude, etc. Here’s how they’re all related, and how they feel about that. Now watch Hamlet talk to a ghost.
So far, Hamlet’s relation to mythology seems to be one of open acknowledgement.
In other words, ‘There are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy!’
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Oedipus, Antigone, other stuff and Tragedy.
oi. Death. According to various translations of a very special, very spontaneous (read: random) passage from Sophocles' Antigone, Death is the one thing Man cannot conquer. Otherwise, Man is pretty awesome, making himself master of...a lot of things. Birds, trees, language, etc.
Death however, is harder to conquer.
As I think on it, the reason for that might be that death is one of the few things that cannot really be escaped. I don't mean that in the sense that it is impossible to escape your OWN death (though that in itself is also true and cliched) but rather that it is impossible to escape death that you have either witnessed or inflicted.
Oedipus kills his father without knowing it, and that murder comes back to bite him. He is unable to conquer death in the sense that death is the substance of his downfall (even if it is not his own)
Antigone on the other hand is adamant that her brother be properly buried. However, that action accomplishes little but give her some peace of mind - at the expense of punishment - and certainly doesn't bring him back.
while the connection may seem tenuous, I think that Sophocles wrote in that chorus narrative bit because he was poetically enamored with the idea that man cannot ever conquer death. As a creative mind, I can imagine him taking a cliched phrase (though it may not have been cliched at the time) and asking himself hypothetically : "What are all the ways in which man might try to conquer death? What are the various ways in which death might inevitably conquer man?"
I think that's the reason why those themes show up in these plays - Sophocles was curious.
Death however, is harder to conquer.
As I think on it, the reason for that might be that death is one of the few things that cannot really be escaped. I don't mean that in the sense that it is impossible to escape your OWN death (though that in itself is also true and cliched) but rather that it is impossible to escape death that you have either witnessed or inflicted.
Oedipus kills his father without knowing it, and that murder comes back to bite him. He is unable to conquer death in the sense that death is the substance of his downfall (even if it is not his own)
Antigone on the other hand is adamant that her brother be properly buried. However, that action accomplishes little but give her some peace of mind - at the expense of punishment - and certainly doesn't bring him back.
while the connection may seem tenuous, I think that Sophocles wrote in that chorus narrative bit because he was poetically enamored with the idea that man cannot ever conquer death. As a creative mind, I can imagine him taking a cliched phrase (though it may not have been cliched at the time) and asking himself hypothetically : "What are all the ways in which man might try to conquer death? What are the various ways in which death might inevitably conquer man?"
I think that's the reason why those themes show up in these plays - Sophocles was curious.
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
Picasso's 'Tragedy'
Blue people on a blue background, hunched over looking sad? Well, if their body language didn't say it, I'm sure Picasso's incredibly subtle palette did the trick - this painting is a tragedy!
Now, it isn't a tragedy in the "woe is me, I've gouged my eyes out" sort of way: Everyone knows a greek tragedy has a lot more red in it.
"WHY? WHYYYYY!?"
Is it just me, or do my blog posts read like a Cracked.com article?
Intellectual, academic reflections: Picasso uses a combination of color and body language in his figures to suggest an internal tragedy that is evocative in its vagueness.
What I imagine is that this family has just been turned out of their beachside apartment by their (obviously) heavily-moustachio'd landlord. They wander a cold beach on a cloudy day, unable to enjoy the same amenities that, through the lens of homelessness, are harsh and unforgiving.
An innocent child tugs on the pantleg of his father, asking why they have no home. He turns away in shame.
A single tear rolls down the mother's eye.
"Tears of BLOOD? Didn't THINK so! The King is unimpressed!"
Intellectual, academic reflections: Picasso uses a combination of color and body language in his figures to suggest an internal tragedy that is evocative in its vagueness.
What I imagine is that this family has just been turned out of their beachside apartment by their (obviously) heavily-moustachio'd landlord. They wander a cold beach on a cloudy day, unable to enjoy the same amenities that, through the lens of homelessness, are harsh and unforgiving.
An innocent child tugs on the pantleg of his father, asking why they have no home. He turns away in shame.
A single tear rolls down the mother's eye.
"Tears of BLOOD? Didn't THINK so! The King is unimpressed!"
Or something else. Who knows, really? That family could be as sad as...well, these guys.
Tragedy.
Tragedy.
Monday, September 6, 2010
a symbol of tragedy
the assignment:
Bring in a symbol of tragedy. This can be anything but please take time to think about this assignment so our contributions are multidimensional and thought provoking.
I admit I am sorely tempted to make this my symbol of tragedy.
"This was once part of a tree."
in actuality though, I'll probably go with the jester hat. I mean hey, I wrote a musical which also happened to be a tragedy, and the hat is a symbol in it. so that works!
also, the whole thing was sort of a...failure in an already dark downward (thankfully self-contained) spiral in my life. and really, who doesn't love layering in their symbolism?
Bring in a symbol of tragedy. This can be anything but please take time to think about this assignment so our contributions are multidimensional and thought provoking.
I admit I am sorely tempted to make this my symbol of tragedy.
"This was once part of a tree."in actuality though, I'll probably go with the jester hat. I mean hey, I wrote a musical which also happened to be a tragedy, and the hat is a symbol in it. so that works!
also, the whole thing was sort of a...failure in an already dark downward (thankfully self-contained) spiral in my life. and really, who doesn't love layering in their symbolism?
Ogres love layered symbolism, onions love layered symbolism - you get the point.
so the above statements may need some background. As I said, I wrote a musical, and for the better part of last year I tried to produce a low-key workshop production of it. However, this soon proved to be a more challenging than I thought it would be. but first some more background on the background (read: layers)
the musical was a sort of semi-autobiographical uber-cathartic piece that focused on an immature crown-prince who finds himself simultaneously struck by the enormity of the looming responsibility implied by his uncle (the king)'s severe illness and very strong feelings for a court jester. I'll give you a moment to navigate that sentence before I continue.
The jester, with a sort of (retrospectively) psychotic obsession with truth and perception and truth in action and society and things of that nature (sort of a medieval Diogenes of Synope, but with singing and dancing and...bisexuality, but we'll get to that later) basically leads the prince on for a while before ultimately running off with his sister (who has issues of her own of course, being a lesbian and a princess in the 1600's...obviously my sense of anachronism wasn't fully developed)...
This man, if he sang and danced, would have broken reality.
So that's why it was sort of a tragedy. The play ends with the prince set to become king (because his uncle died and that was sad) and the jester and his sister run away to leave him completely alone to the task.
but on the bright side the token villain (a nefarious taxman named Quinn) is ultimately thwarted and his henchman, the inventor of a beverage known as 'Orange Juice', takes his place in the new regime.
as I said, its an anachronistic, often silly piece. but its got nearly 30 pieces of original music in it.
30 pieces of music. along with many, many spoken scenes that often had the characters waxing painfully verbose on issues of philosophy (in the guise of trying to justify homosexuality to medieval sensibilities, usually...) it was a long play, and a hard one to produce. But another problem was that I was dealing with a small cast of students who weren't really able to commit themselves to the project as much as I (regrettably) expected of them. Even still, I (ironically) tried to take the brunt of the responsibility on myself in that I was directing as I was scoring music as I was putting together sets and light designs and costumes and props and all manner of THING while (parenthetically) forgetting to gauge how I was acting towards those involved.
What basically resulted was three actresses in lead roles (namely the jester, the princess and the other princess I forgot to mention) withdrew in quick succession. At first I was able to keep it up by bringing in a last minute replacement for the jester, but the scheduling of the single performance was in line with AP testing that year, and the show was shortly after killed off.
I tried to play off maturely (mostly to make up for my conduct as everything was in the process of falling apart) with a cast-wide email explaining that although we were done I had no regrets because we all learned a lot and a whole bunch of other hippie crap I was having trouble convincing myself I believed.
However, only a couple weeks later my irrational anger began surfacing through really immature, vicious pranks directed at those I managed to convince myself were at least partly to blame. the consequences were less than pleasant, and I spent my 18th birthday at home - on a fairly hilariously timed one-day suspension.
'The Jester' has since become a symbol in my mind for another kind of tragedy, in that it sort of exposed me in quick succession to a lot of my flaws and weaknesses, and then became the arena in which I failed to overcome them in addition to the more palpable failure of the canceled production.
So there's the verbose blog post on that. Catharsis through writing still appears to be my style...some things never change.
the musical was a sort of semi-autobiographical uber-cathartic piece that focused on an immature crown-prince who finds himself simultaneously struck by the enormity of the looming responsibility implied by his uncle (the king)'s severe illness and very strong feelings for a court jester. I'll give you a moment to navigate that sentence before I continue.
The jester, with a sort of (retrospectively) psychotic obsession with truth and perception and truth in action and society and things of that nature (sort of a medieval Diogenes of Synope, but with singing and dancing and...bisexuality, but we'll get to that later) basically leads the prince on for a while before ultimately running off with his sister (who has issues of her own of course, being a lesbian and a princess in the 1600's...obviously my sense of anachronism wasn't fully developed)...
This man, if he sang and danced, would have broken reality.
So that's why it was sort of a tragedy. The play ends with the prince set to become king (because his uncle died and that was sad) and the jester and his sister run away to leave him completely alone to the task.
but on the bright side the token villain (a nefarious taxman named Quinn) is ultimately thwarted and his henchman, the inventor of a beverage known as 'Orange Juice', takes his place in the new regime.
as I said, its an anachronistic, often silly piece. but its got nearly 30 pieces of original music in it.
30 pieces of music. along with many, many spoken scenes that often had the characters waxing painfully verbose on issues of philosophy (in the guise of trying to justify homosexuality to medieval sensibilities, usually...) it was a long play, and a hard one to produce. But another problem was that I was dealing with a small cast of students who weren't really able to commit themselves to the project as much as I (regrettably) expected of them. Even still, I (ironically) tried to take the brunt of the responsibility on myself in that I was directing as I was scoring music as I was putting together sets and light designs and costumes and props and all manner of THING while (parenthetically) forgetting to gauge how I was acting towards those involved.
What basically resulted was three actresses in lead roles (namely the jester, the princess and the other princess I forgot to mention) withdrew in quick succession. At first I was able to keep it up by bringing in a last minute replacement for the jester, but the scheduling of the single performance was in line with AP testing that year, and the show was shortly after killed off.
I tried to play off maturely (mostly to make up for my conduct as everything was in the process of falling apart) with a cast-wide email explaining that although we were done I had no regrets because we all learned a lot and a whole bunch of other hippie crap I was having trouble convincing myself I believed.
However, only a couple weeks later my irrational anger began surfacing through really immature, vicious pranks directed at those I managed to convince myself were at least partly to blame. the consequences were less than pleasant, and I spent my 18th birthday at home - on a fairly hilariously timed one-day suspension.
'The Jester' has since become a symbol in my mind for another kind of tragedy, in that it sort of exposed me in quick succession to a lot of my flaws and weaknesses, and then became the arena in which I failed to overcome them in addition to the more palpable failure of the canceled production.
So there's the verbose blog post on that. Catharsis through writing still appears to be my style...some things never change.
Sunday, August 22, 2010
What Is Literature?
I chose to define literature as the following:
Literature - Any form of written storytelling
So let me walk through my thinking here. In much the same way that art can only be defined as whatever the artist says it is (I.E. Picasso and the esteemed R. Mutt), literature must be defined in the broadest terms possible.
Art - In the broadest terms possible.
However, unlike art, literature has a couple bounding factors.
In its simplest form, this definition has two elements: written and storytelling.
I will start with storytelling because it is a meaningful word to me. Storytelling is an incredibly important part of human life and society. Children are taught lessons through stories and as a society we crave good stories in one form or another. For some that craving is satiated through film and television, for others through theater, and for many it is through comic books and novels.
In my mind, literature is by default fictional, or at least told with a fictional flair. The sometimes dry tone of most nonfiction work, even when dealing with historical subjects, excludes it from the distinction of literature because having a story at the heart of a work does not mean that story is being told.
That is by no means a bad thing. Its simply a different style of writing. Literature is, to me, synonymous with storytelling.
However, as mentioned earlier, storytelling comes in many forms, and not all of these mediums inherently belong to the class of literature.
Literature is by nature written. A prime example: Shakespeare. The many plays of Shakespeare take a form that are meant to be performed on stage. Yet, we study their text as literature. In much the same way, any number of novels may be considered literature where their stage or screen adaptations would not.
While the oral, and later visual, traditions have a place in the larger art of storytelling, literature is the product of taking a story and immortalizing it in print. It is a medium that brings nearly as much from the reader as it does from a writer to create a story, so that no two readings of the same text are exactly the same story. It asks the reader to bring their own flavor of imagination to the prompts of the text.
I choose to adopt a broad definition of this word because I have great respect for those authors of speculative fiction (I.E. Fantasy, Science Fiction, etc.) whose work may not count as literature in the eyes of professors and critics. Likewise, I consider many comic books and graphic novels to be of more depth than some "classically literary" works. I also believe that the canon is dangerous, as it judges what is truly a literary masterpiece by factors inapplicable to most of humanity, rather than the one factor that applies to everyone: how well the story is told.
And, of course, because how well something is told is completely subjective, it stands to reason that if somebody somewhere can be swept away by a story, then its a story.
So, I submit, perhaps to the chagrin of some, that if someone were to write the words "Johnny walked the dog. The dog ran away. Johnny cried." in ketchup on a napkin, it would count as literature.
Literature - Any form of written storytelling
So let me walk through my thinking here. In much the same way that art can only be defined as whatever the artist says it is (I.E. Picasso and the esteemed R. Mutt), literature must be defined in the broadest terms possible.
Art - In the broadest terms possible.
In its simplest form, this definition has two elements: written and storytelling.
I will start with storytelling because it is a meaningful word to me. Storytelling is an incredibly important part of human life and society. Children are taught lessons through stories and as a society we crave good stories in one form or another. For some that craving is satiated through film and television, for others through theater, and for many it is through comic books and novels.
In my mind, literature is by default fictional, or at least told with a fictional flair. The sometimes dry tone of most nonfiction work, even when dealing with historical subjects, excludes it from the distinction of literature because having a story at the heart of a work does not mean that story is being told.
That is by no means a bad thing. Its simply a different style of writing. Literature is, to me, synonymous with storytelling.
However, as mentioned earlier, storytelling comes in many forms, and not all of these mediums inherently belong to the class of literature.
Literature is by nature written. A prime example: Shakespeare. The many plays of Shakespeare take a form that are meant to be performed on stage. Yet, we study their text as literature. In much the same way, any number of novels may be considered literature where their stage or screen adaptations would not.
While the oral, and later visual, traditions have a place in the larger art of storytelling, literature is the product of taking a story and immortalizing it in print. It is a medium that brings nearly as much from the reader as it does from a writer to create a story, so that no two readings of the same text are exactly the same story. It asks the reader to bring their own flavor of imagination to the prompts of the text.
I choose to adopt a broad definition of this word because I have great respect for those authors of speculative fiction (I.E. Fantasy, Science Fiction, etc.) whose work may not count as literature in the eyes of professors and critics. Likewise, I consider many comic books and graphic novels to be of more depth than some "classically literary" works. I also believe that the canon is dangerous, as it judges what is truly a literary masterpiece by factors inapplicable to most of humanity, rather than the one factor that applies to everyone: how well the story is told.
And, of course, because how well something is told is completely subjective, it stands to reason that if somebody somewhere can be swept away by a story, then its a story.
So, I submit, perhaps to the chagrin of some, that if someone were to write the words "Johnny walked the dog. The dog ran away. Johnny cried." in ketchup on a napkin, it would count as literature.
1984 - A Tweet Compilation
Below are the various tweets I tweeted while reading George Orwell's 1984. Did I just break the Blogosphere? Maybe!
"What you say or do doesn't matter; Only feelings matter. If they could make me stop loving you - that would be the real betrayal." -1984
I'm really dissapointed with Orwell's flashback use here: "Winston is in jail. He was in another jail before that. It was bad." #1984
"Parsons used the lavatory, loudly and abundantly." some things just cant be glossed over... #1984 In this latest sequence - the torture chamber - O'Brien enters as the last-minute, single most quotable character in George Orwell's "1984"#notetoself Symbols in 1984: Coral Paperweight symbolizes the safe bubble-world W&J build, & past that allows for frivolity Big Brother is a symbol for the Party regime, also for control over truth (is immortal, never seen), mystery of party rulership, (TBC) Also, BIG BROTHER IS WATCHING. Always. Telescreens symbolize the same. Combine monitoring w/ propaganda - technology monopoly & Abuse Memory Holes represent the entire principle of Doublethink & the mutability of the past - name reflects contradiction as they destroy facts "The sex instinct will be eradicated. We shall abolish the orgasm. Our neurologists are at work upon it now." - O'Brein the Diabolical, 1984 "If you want a picture of the future, imagine a boot stamping on a human face - forever." - O'Brein the Incredibly Quotable, 1984, page 220 Just finished 1984. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAh.
If you somehow managed to enjoy that, you can follow me on Twitter here.
"What you say or do doesn't matter; Only feelings matter. If they could make me stop loving you - that would be the real betrayal." -1984
I'm really dissapointed with Orwell's flashback use here: "Winston is in jail. He was in another jail before that. It was bad." #1984
"Parsons used the lavatory, loudly and abundantly." some things just cant be glossed over... #1984 In this latest sequence - the torture chamber - O'Brien enters as the last-minute, single most quotable character in George Orwell's "1984"#notetoself Symbols in 1984: Coral Paperweight symbolizes the safe bubble-world W&J build, & past that allows for frivolity Big Brother is a symbol for the Party regime, also for control over truth (is immortal, never seen), mystery of party rulership, (TBC) Also, BIG BROTHER IS WATCHING. Always. Telescreens symbolize the same. Combine monitoring w/ propaganda - technology monopoly & Abuse Memory Holes represent the entire principle of Doublethink & the mutability of the past - name reflects contradiction as they destroy facts "The sex instinct will be eradicated. We shall abolish the orgasm. Our neurologists are at work upon it now." - O'Brein the Diabolical, 1984 "If you want a picture of the future, imagine a boot stamping on a human face - forever." - O'Brein the Incredibly Quotable, 1984, page 220 Just finished 1984. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAh.
If you somehow managed to enjoy that, you can follow me on Twitter here.
End of 1984 (1985?)
Working backwards;
I think the reason Winston's transformation is so unsettling is because of the third-person limited viewpoint Orwell uses - We only see things from his perspective, and so in watching him "become sane" as O'Brien would put it, we're watching him do exactly as his captor told him he would do on the road to rehabilitation - right before they shot him in the head. So its also like watching him unknowingly walk the plank.
Of course we don't find out till the end that in all their diabolicality (believe that's a word), the Party doesn't even bestow the mercy of making good on their promise to blow his "fixed" brains out.
Meanwhile, my mind has been sufficiently blown.
Thinking back, I don't think I've ever read a book that employs so many symbols throughout -
Big Brother
Telescreens
Memory Holes
the Coral Paperweight
the Churchbell Nursery Rhyme
Winston's Varicose Ulcer
The "Prole" Woman
Julia's Red Sash
The Book (crucially italicized)
And there are a bunch more that are either used only briefly, or are too subtle for my dull mind.
Admittedly, the second-act Info-Dump that was The Book was a little tedious, partially because, as even the characters recognized, it didn't say anything anybody didn't already know. I'm not sure I would have made the choice of submitting my readers to that - a lesson I've learned the hard way is that acknowledging a flaw in your work, and flaunting it in the audience's face does not, in fact, make it a legitimate artistic choice.
On the other hand, it does make a couple moments of O'Brien's "Malevolent Mastermind Monologue" a little more powerful, as it made me feel as though I were the one strapped to the table.
On the other hand, the only reason that was possible was because the characters are so flat and lifeless that they can easily be imposed upon. I mean, Winston Smith? Honestly? I still prefer Protagonist McGenericname.
So while I liked the way the third act was navigated, and a certain stretch bookended by Winston receiving two important documents (namely Julia's "I Love You" note and The Book), everything else was...uneventful. Up until he gets the note its nothing but him thinking heretical thoughts and occasionally journalling while going about his every day routine, and the rest is literally him reading a book. In the book.
Nobody wants to read about somebody reading. I still can't get over the choices that made that particular sequence of exposition so clumsy...especially as it was a hefty bit of exposition.
In the end though, there's a lot to be said about the book, and I feel unable to say any of it right now. Hopefully my thoughts will be consolidated by tomorrow morning.
I think the reason Winston's transformation is so unsettling is because of the third-person limited viewpoint Orwell uses - We only see things from his perspective, and so in watching him "become sane" as O'Brien would put it, we're watching him do exactly as his captor told him he would do on the road to rehabilitation - right before they shot him in the head. So its also like watching him unknowingly walk the plank.
Of course we don't find out till the end that in all their diabolicality (believe that's a word), the Party doesn't even bestow the mercy of making good on their promise to blow his "fixed" brains out.
Meanwhile, my mind has been sufficiently blown.
Thinking back, I don't think I've ever read a book that employs so many symbols throughout -
Big Brother
Telescreens
Memory Holes
the Coral Paperweight
the Churchbell Nursery Rhyme
Winston's Varicose Ulcer
The "Prole" Woman
Julia's Red Sash
The Book (crucially italicized)
And there are a bunch more that are either used only briefly, or are too subtle for my dull mind.
Admittedly, the second-act Info-Dump that was The Book was a little tedious, partially because, as even the characters recognized, it didn't say anything anybody didn't already know. I'm not sure I would have made the choice of submitting my readers to that - a lesson I've learned the hard way is that acknowledging a flaw in your work, and flaunting it in the audience's face does not, in fact, make it a legitimate artistic choice.
On the other hand, it does make a couple moments of O'Brien's "Malevolent Mastermind Monologue" a little more powerful, as it made me feel as though I were the one strapped to the table.
On the other hand, the only reason that was possible was because the characters are so flat and lifeless that they can easily be imposed upon. I mean, Winston Smith? Honestly? I still prefer Protagonist McGenericname.
So while I liked the way the third act was navigated, and a certain stretch bookended by Winston receiving two important documents (namely Julia's "I Love You" note and The Book), everything else was...uneventful. Up until he gets the note its nothing but him thinking heretical thoughts and occasionally journalling while going about his every day routine, and the rest is literally him reading a book. In the book.
Nobody wants to read about somebody reading. I still can't get over the choices that made that particular sequence of exposition so clumsy...especially as it was a hefty bit of exposition.
In the end though, there's a lot to be said about the book, and I feel unable to say any of it right now. Hopefully my thoughts will be consolidated by tomorrow morning.
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