Last Review for February
The Winter's Tale, William Shakespeare
The Winter's Tale is one of Shakespeare's lesser-known plays; though still popular, it isn't one the Big Comedies, Tragedies, or Histories. The Winter's Tale is one of his romances, a genre that appeared much later in his career. The most famous of these is The Tempest (which, y'know, I'm just not really all that fond of), but it also includes Pericles, Prince of Tyre; Cymbeline, and occasionally The Two Noble Kinsmen. While romance does have a role in these plays (most of them ending in engagement or a wedding, as proper comedies ought), they focus more around familial relationships that romantic ones. Prevalent are themes of reunion and redemption/forgiveness, brought about, oddly enough, by the existence of a daughter (Miranda in The Tempest, Perdita in The Winter's Tale, Marina in Pericles, Prince of Tyre). These were all written around the time Shakespeare married off his elder daughter Susanna, so there may be a bit of sentimentality in there for being absent so often during his children's childhoods. For the record, this is me speculating wildly--though if there's any relevent scholarship out there, feel free to point me to it.
Anyway, the romances have a few other themes in common. First of all, they all involve magic and fantastic elements which results in a big old deus ex machina at the end. Second, they also introduce the idea of tragicomedy. These aren't bright, happy romances where everything is wonderful, unicorns shoot rainbows from their horns, and the only strife is who beat who in the hugging contest (though, for the record, not even the happiest of Shakespeare's comedies are like that). Even when bad things happen in comedies, you know that it's all going to work out in the end. You don't ever forget you're reading a comedy. In the beginning of these plays, it's really easy to assume that you're reading a tragedy. These romances feature deaths, injustices, and have plotlines that even the happy marriages at the end cannot entirely wipe away. He raises some dark and profound issues--in the end of The Winter's Tale, for example, sure everyone's happy and reunited, but you can't forget that sixteen long years of separation have gone by, that Mamillius and Antigonus are still dead and Hermione's too old to bear children again.
The play starts in Sicilia, at the court of King Leontes and Queen Hermione. King Polixenes, childhood friend of Leontes, has been visiting for the past nine months. Missing his son and his kingdom, Polixenes plans to leave Sicilia the next day. Leontes isn't able to convince him to stay, so he sends Hermione to try instead. She's successful, and suddenly Leontes is struck by this horrible, jealous, insane certainty that Polixenes and Hermione are sleeping together and the child Hermione's carrying is actually Polixenes's bastard. He sends Camillo to poison Polixenes, but Camillo confesses to Polixenes instead, and he and Polixenes flee Sicilia.
His insanity increasing, Leontes assumes that there's actually a plot against his life, and arrests Hermione, since he cannot get his hands on Polixenes or Camillo. He throws her into the dungeons with a few of her ladies, and refuses to let their older son, Mamillius, anywhere near her. He's fairly certain that Mamillius is his, and he doesn't want his son contamintaed by Hermione's perfidity. All of his councilors tell him he's wrong, that Hermione's never been anything but good and virtuous, but Leontes remains convinced, even though he has no real, solid proof. Hermione gives birth to a daughter, and Leontes orders Antigonus to dispose of the infant, after Antigonus's wife, Paulina, tries to use the baby as evidence of Hermione's faithfulness. Soon after the birth, he drags Hermione to trial, and the Oracle at Delphos pronounces her innocent. Even that's not enough for Leontes; he announces that even the gods in heaven are liars. He no sooner says that then he is shown what happens when mortals sass the gods: he immediately receives word that Mamillius is dead, Hermione swoons, is rushed offstaged, and pronounced dead as well, and he is told that he'll have no other heirs until the lost baby girl is found. Surrounded by the death of everyone he has ever loved, Leontes gecomes sane again, swears that he'll grieve for his dead wife and son every day for the rest of his life.
Antigonus is dropped off on the seacoast of Bohemia (Polixenes's country), where he is to abandon the princess. He leaves gold, some of Hermione's jewels, a note about the baby's identity, and names her Perdita, after Hermione comes to him in a dream. The wrath of the gods fall on him and the ship, too. He's eaten by a bear, the ship he sailed on sinks, and the baby is found by an old shepherd and his son, who assume Perdita's a changeling.
In the next Act, Time enters and announces that sixteen years have gone by. Leontes has spent that time mourning his stupid, Perdita has grown up to be a beautiful young girl, and Florizel, prince of Bohemia, has fallen in love with her. Polixenes and Camillo notice Florizel's been acting weird, so they disguise themselves and follow him to see what he's been up to recently. They attend a sheep-shearing festival held by the old Shepherd, ands discover that Florizel's about to marry this little nobody. Since neither the shepherd nor his son could read, no one knows that Perdita is anything other than what she seems. Polixenes threatens to disenherit Flroizel, and threatens to burn Perdita as a witch and then kill shepherd and his son if they go through with the match. Camillo, who is homesick for Sicilia, sends Florizel and Perdita to Sicilia to visit Leontes, and then runs home and tells Polixenes that they've gone to Sicilia, so he can legitimately go home again. The shepherd and his son don't want to be killed, so they rush home, collect the remainder of the gold and jewels and all the paperwork that they found with Perdita, to prove that they aren't actually related to her and should be spared the king's wrath. Unfortunately, they get violently seasick on the way to Sicilia, and are too busy throwing up to prove anything to anyone until after they dock. Eventually, Polixenes catches up with Florizel and Perdita in Leontes's court, Perdita's true identity is revealed and she reunites with her father. Her royal heritage makes everything better, Polixenes is thrilled to marry his son off to the daughter of his bat-shit best friend, and they all troop down to Paulina's house, to see the statue of Hermione, recently carved by some famous sculptor. There, once Leontes talks about how he was a douche and would give anything to get Hermione back and Perdita is presented as their daughter, the statue comes to life and Hermione is returned to the land of the living. The end.
Perhaps the most intriguing aspect of this play is the language. Now, all Shakespeare language is tough if you haven't practiced for awhile. It's close enough to our own where it feels as if it should be obvious, but the slang, the grammar, the spelling...it's just far enough off to make it hard to dive right into. In The Winter's Tale, however, language is even more obtuse and abused. The language in the first two or three Acts is tough, occasionally reading is more akin to slogging. The footnotes in my version are full of explanations like: "We think it means this, these other scholars say it prolly means that, one guy said it means this other thing, but he's wrong..." Rather than taking away from my understanding of the play, I felt as if the language actually heightened it. True, I didn't grasp every meaning, but the first few Acts are all about a mental disorder to the point of insanity. The language reflects that--it's gets more and more twisted as Leontes's mind does the same. I thought it makes for a great illustration of the disorder of his brain. Then, as his court spirals deeper into craziness, their speeches follow the same pattern. Awesome.
As for characters, the only one I really liked was Paulina. She's this crazy old bat of a courtier, and she's the only one really willing to stand up to Leontes and call him a nutjob. She takes him to task for his behavior over and over again, first when he impugns hermione's honor, then when he denies his daughter's paternity, and again when he orders Perdita to be exposed. She also accuses his other courtiers (including her own husband) or cowardice for not standing up to a tyrant. Even later, after he's repented, she still rides him about it, keeping that grief and regret alive and well. She's also the one who brings Hermione back to life once Perdita comes home. I love ballsy and sassy women. Everone else in the play is either insane (Leontes), or ill-defined. We don't meet our heo and heroine till Act Four, and they barely speak in Act Five. The other big character, Autolycus, is named for Odysseus's grandfather (a reknowned thief), and does his best to live up to the reputation. He swindles the shepherd and his son not once, not twice, but three times. He's pretty cool, but also very much a stock character, showing some signs of wit, but not enough to keep him interesting. I kind of viewed him as an interruption to the play--I wanted to see how the main plot would resolve, not watch him steal yokels blind.
So this is the play I intend to turn into a Gothic novel. It's got almost all the requisite elements in there already--which is why it's so entertaining. Even those that it doesn't have will be easy enough to slip in. I'm very much looking forward to writing it. As for the play, it's difficult to read, which is probably why it isn't more popular, but it's funny and interesting. It doesn't develop the same emotional attachment that the Tragedies do, but it easily stands toe-to-toe with any of the Comedies.
4.5 stars
The Winter's Tale is one of Shakespeare's lesser-known plays; though still popular, it isn't one the Big Comedies, Tragedies, or Histories. The Winter's Tale is one of his romances, a genre that appeared much later in his career. The most famous of these is The Tempest (which, y'know, I'm just not really all that fond of), but it also includes Pericles, Prince of Tyre; Cymbeline, and occasionally The Two Noble Kinsmen. While romance does have a role in these plays (most of them ending in engagement or a wedding, as proper comedies ought), they focus more around familial relationships that romantic ones. Prevalent are themes of reunion and redemption/forgiveness, brought about, oddly enough, by the existence of a daughter (Miranda in The Tempest, Perdita in The Winter's Tale, Marina in Pericles, Prince of Tyre). These were all written around the time Shakespeare married off his elder daughter Susanna, so there may be a bit of sentimentality in there for being absent so often during his children's childhoods. For the record, this is me speculating wildly--though if there's any relevent scholarship out there, feel free to point me to it.
Anyway, the romances have a few other themes in common. First of all, they all involve magic and fantastic elements which results in a big old deus ex machina at the end. Second, they also introduce the idea of tragicomedy. These aren't bright, happy romances where everything is wonderful, unicorns shoot rainbows from their horns, and the only strife is who beat who in the hugging contest (though, for the record, not even the happiest of Shakespeare's comedies are like that). Even when bad things happen in comedies, you know that it's all going to work out in the end. You don't ever forget you're reading a comedy. In the beginning of these plays, it's really easy to assume that you're reading a tragedy. These romances feature deaths, injustices, and have plotlines that even the happy marriages at the end cannot entirely wipe away. He raises some dark and profound issues--in the end of The Winter's Tale, for example, sure everyone's happy and reunited, but you can't forget that sixteen long years of separation have gone by, that Mamillius and Antigonus are still dead and Hermione's too old to bear children again.
The play starts in Sicilia, at the court of King Leontes and Queen Hermione. King Polixenes, childhood friend of Leontes, has been visiting for the past nine months. Missing his son and his kingdom, Polixenes plans to leave Sicilia the next day. Leontes isn't able to convince him to stay, so he sends Hermione to try instead. She's successful, and suddenly Leontes is struck by this horrible, jealous, insane certainty that Polixenes and Hermione are sleeping together and the child Hermione's carrying is actually Polixenes's bastard. He sends Camillo to poison Polixenes, but Camillo confesses to Polixenes instead, and he and Polixenes flee Sicilia.
His insanity increasing, Leontes assumes that there's actually a plot against his life, and arrests Hermione, since he cannot get his hands on Polixenes or Camillo. He throws her into the dungeons with a few of her ladies, and refuses to let their older son, Mamillius, anywhere near her. He's fairly certain that Mamillius is his, and he doesn't want his son contamintaed by Hermione's perfidity. All of his councilors tell him he's wrong, that Hermione's never been anything but good and virtuous, but Leontes remains convinced, even though he has no real, solid proof. Hermione gives birth to a daughter, and Leontes orders Antigonus to dispose of the infant, after Antigonus's wife, Paulina, tries to use the baby as evidence of Hermione's faithfulness. Soon after the birth, he drags Hermione to trial, and the Oracle at Delphos pronounces her innocent. Even that's not enough for Leontes; he announces that even the gods in heaven are liars. He no sooner says that then he is shown what happens when mortals sass the gods: he immediately receives word that Mamillius is dead, Hermione swoons, is rushed offstaged, and pronounced dead as well, and he is told that he'll have no other heirs until the lost baby girl is found. Surrounded by the death of everyone he has ever loved, Leontes gecomes sane again, swears that he'll grieve for his dead wife and son every day for the rest of his life.
Antigonus is dropped off on the seacoast of Bohemia (Polixenes's country), where he is to abandon the princess. He leaves gold, some of Hermione's jewels, a note about the baby's identity, and names her Perdita, after Hermione comes to him in a dream. The wrath of the gods fall on him and the ship, too. He's eaten by a bear, the ship he sailed on sinks, and the baby is found by an old shepherd and his son, who assume Perdita's a changeling.
In the next Act, Time enters and announces that sixteen years have gone by. Leontes has spent that time mourning his stupid, Perdita has grown up to be a beautiful young girl, and Florizel, prince of Bohemia, has fallen in love with her. Polixenes and Camillo notice Florizel's been acting weird, so they disguise themselves and follow him to see what he's been up to recently. They attend a sheep-shearing festival held by the old Shepherd, ands discover that Florizel's about to marry this little nobody. Since neither the shepherd nor his son could read, no one knows that Perdita is anything other than what she seems. Polixenes threatens to disenherit Flroizel, and threatens to burn Perdita as a witch and then kill shepherd and his son if they go through with the match. Camillo, who is homesick for Sicilia, sends Florizel and Perdita to Sicilia to visit Leontes, and then runs home and tells Polixenes that they've gone to Sicilia, so he can legitimately go home again. The shepherd and his son don't want to be killed, so they rush home, collect the remainder of the gold and jewels and all the paperwork that they found with Perdita, to prove that they aren't actually related to her and should be spared the king's wrath. Unfortunately, they get violently seasick on the way to Sicilia, and are too busy throwing up to prove anything to anyone until after they dock. Eventually, Polixenes catches up with Florizel and Perdita in Leontes's court, Perdita's true identity is revealed and she reunites with her father. Her royal heritage makes everything better, Polixenes is thrilled to marry his son off to the daughter of his bat-shit best friend, and they all troop down to Paulina's house, to see the statue of Hermione, recently carved by some famous sculptor. There, once Leontes talks about how he was a douche and would give anything to get Hermione back and Perdita is presented as their daughter, the statue comes to life and Hermione is returned to the land of the living. The end.
Perhaps the most intriguing aspect of this play is the language. Now, all Shakespeare language is tough if you haven't practiced for awhile. It's close enough to our own where it feels as if it should be obvious, but the slang, the grammar, the spelling...it's just far enough off to make it hard to dive right into. In The Winter's Tale, however, language is even more obtuse and abused. The language in the first two or three Acts is tough, occasionally reading is more akin to slogging. The footnotes in my version are full of explanations like: "We think it means this, these other scholars say it prolly means that, one guy said it means this other thing, but he's wrong..." Rather than taking away from my understanding of the play, I felt as if the language actually heightened it. True, I didn't grasp every meaning, but the first few Acts are all about a mental disorder to the point of insanity. The language reflects that--it's gets more and more twisted as Leontes's mind does the same. I thought it makes for a great illustration of the disorder of his brain. Then, as his court spirals deeper into craziness, their speeches follow the same pattern. Awesome.
As for characters, the only one I really liked was Paulina. She's this crazy old bat of a courtier, and she's the only one really willing to stand up to Leontes and call him a nutjob. She takes him to task for his behavior over and over again, first when he impugns hermione's honor, then when he denies his daughter's paternity, and again when he orders Perdita to be exposed. She also accuses his other courtiers (including her own husband) or cowardice for not standing up to a tyrant. Even later, after he's repented, she still rides him about it, keeping that grief and regret alive and well. She's also the one who brings Hermione back to life once Perdita comes home. I love ballsy and sassy women. Everone else in the play is either insane (Leontes), or ill-defined. We don't meet our heo and heroine till Act Four, and they barely speak in Act Five. The other big character, Autolycus, is named for Odysseus's grandfather (a reknowned thief), and does his best to live up to the reputation. He swindles the shepherd and his son not once, not twice, but three times. He's pretty cool, but also very much a stock character, showing some signs of wit, but not enough to keep him interesting. I kind of viewed him as an interruption to the play--I wanted to see how the main plot would resolve, not watch him steal yokels blind.
So this is the play I intend to turn into a Gothic novel. It's got almost all the requisite elements in there already--which is why it's so entertaining. Even those that it doesn't have will be easy enough to slip in. I'm very much looking forward to writing it. As for the play, it's difficult to read, which is probably why it isn't more popular, but it's funny and interesting. It doesn't develop the same emotional attachment that the Tragedies do, but it easily stands toe-to-toe with any of the Comedies.
4.5 stars