Review : Two Gentlemen of Lebowski

Two Gentlemen of Lebowski hit the scene in January 2010, and we were there. In it, Adam Bertocci masterfully retells cult movie The Big Lebowski as if it had been written by, well, you know who.
So in a true demonstration of just how quickly an online hit can go from viral to print, I hold in my hands the paperback version of the book which Simon and Schuster were nice enough to send me in thanks for my early support of the project.
I’ve sat here for awhile, reading it front to back, trying to decide how I’d review this one. Then I wondered, what am I doing? If you’ve got interest at all in this project, you’ve also probably got the movie memorized. And chances are that you’ve already read, or at least skimmed, the online version.
But here’s a little secret that I’m not sure I should admit — I’ve never seen the movie. Gasp! It’s true. I started it, once. I know the bit about the rug. And some early scenes in the bowling alley where John Goodman pulls a gun on somebody because his toe went over the line. That’s about it. So that put me in what was probably a fairly unique situation – reading the Shakespeare version as if it were the original. It helped that I could picture Jeff Bridges as “The Knave”, I’ll tell you that.
If you know the movie and you’ve read the online version, why should you get the book? For the annotations, mainly. They’ve done this one up like a traditional text, with the script on one side and a full page of footnotes and other annotations on the facing page. That means that Mr. Bertocci not only had to map the entire plot of the movie into a Shakespearean script, but he had to backfill all the notes as well. Pay attention, because often those are the best part!

7. lance: euphemism for penis; see also most nouns in Shakespeare.

Many variations on that theme, as you could imagine. 🙂
Is the original movie on Netflix streaming? I’m thinking I’ll watch the whole thing now, this book in hand, and see how it works out. Somebody should do an audio book, and then we can play the old Wizard of Oz / Dark Side of the Moon game where you put on the video, turn the sound down, and play the audiobook in sync with it. That’d be cool!

Ernie and Bert Are Dead

Oh my god how is this dated 2005 and I’ve not seen it? Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead, done with Sesame Street characters. Tis just a textual piece – a script – not a video. But, still!

Curtain opens to show OSCAR standing on a balcony, staring glumly at a HAWK and a HANDSAW. A brass weathervane on the balcony is spinning; it stops at north-north-west for a moment, but ends up pointing southeast. ERNIE and BERT join OSCAR on the balcony.

BERT: Are you Prince Hamlet?

OSCAR: No, I’m a merchant from Venice.

ERNIE: Where’s Venice?

The weathervane spins back to north-north-west.

OSCAR: Of course I’m Prince Hamlet.

BERT: Prince Hamlet, we have a question for you.

ERNIE: We hear you’re having a bad month. We were wondering why that is.

OSCAR: Why am I having a bad month? You. have to ask why I’m having a bad month? Count von Claudius took away my trash. All of my lovely stinking trash. My whole foul and pestilent congregation of vapours.

Love it.

Shakespeare Was Gay! O Noes!

When I spotted this 11 Points article (via Reddit) that claims “11 Pieces of Evidence That Shakespeare Was Gay,” I thought, “Oh, lord, here we go again.” And at first read I thought, “Wow, terrible article with horrible points.”
Then I, you know, actually read it. And I’d like to think that this was the author’s whole point. First of all it’s a humor site. Second, his point is pretty plainly “Look, I have to make a pretty ridiculous leap before any of these can be considered evidence of anything, but the fact that I’m presenting them as research shows that people have, in fact, tried to make exactly this case with exactly these points.”
All the typical points are there — he didn’t love his wife, the sonnets are all about his love for another dude, too much cross dressing, you’ve heard them all before. A couple were new to me, though, like the urban legend that in the “original” Hamlet, the first letters of the last lines spelled out “I am a homosexual”? Come again? Given that there’s really no such thing as a single “original”, I’d still like to know what word supposedly started a line with the letter X.
Anyway, thought I’d post it and give the author a little acknowledgement for apparently being on the right and sane argument of the “We’ll never know for sure, and really, does it even matter?” debate. It’s an entertaining bit when you realize you’re not supposed to take it seriously.

Bodycount, Part 2

Ok, the Bodycount game seems to be a clear win for Titus. So here’s version two of the game: which *play* has the highest onstage bodycount? The rules for this one are easier – how many bodies hit the floor? Note – dying offstage in this version does not count (Mercutio) unless your dead body is brought back on stage for some reason (Cordelia). So to kj’s point in the earlier thread, you can talk about the legions of dead all you want, but unless they’re lying at your feet, they don’t count. Somebody needs to go from on their feet to on their back.

Bodycount

While watching a commercial for Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson’s new movie, which looks like some sort of weird cross between “Falling Down” and “Death Wish”, I got to wondering about one-man killing machines. Specifically how people tend to joke about Hamlet being the bloodbath where everybody dies at the end. But, really, Hamlet only deliberately kills Claudius, no? He wounds Laertes, sure – but he didn’t know about the poison at that point. Likewise he sends R&G to their doom, but he’s not the one to pull that trigger. And Polonius, well, I suppose Polonius counts, but he was technically an accident. So we’ll mark Hamlet’s bodycount at 2, since even though he killed the wrong person, it was certainly his intent to kill somebody.
So, then, here’s the question. For onstage, mortal injury of another character, who has the highest body count in all of Shakespeare? I’m saying “onstage” on purpose, because the question really has more to do with how much killing the audience sees. So Macbeth’s murder of Duncan and the guards, for example, wouldn’t count.
Tybalt/Mercutio is why I called it “mortal injury”. Wounding somebody who then dies off screen? That counts.
I’m not familiar enough with each of the tragedies to count up accurately. Who wins? Richard? Titus?