Howdy, y’all! Bardfilm here!

Ever since I hacked into Shakespeare Geek’s blog, I’ve been waiting for him to get within shouting distance of a computer and shut me out. In fact, he tweeted something that made me suspect he was on to me. The expression for the state I’m in is “waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

You may not know that the expression comes from Shakespeare’s day. You see, Thomas Dekker wrote a hilarious comedy called The Shoemaker’s Holiday. It was so popular that audiences were crying out for a sequel. And the Elizabethan theatre was all about the sequel—I mean, three parts to Henry VI?

Everyone thought a sequel was coming, and it was rumored that Shakespeare was going to collaborate on the piece. They were so excited, they felt like they were on pins and needles, only that expression hadn’t been invented yet. So they started saying “We’re waiting for the other Shoemaker’s Holiday to drop.”

Of course, that expression was awkward, so it was shortened to “We’re waiting for the other Shoemaker to drop.” And then it was shortened still further to “We’re waiting for the other Shoe to drop,” giving us the expression we all know and love.

So I’ll keep this up until that shoe drops.

In the meantime, “Let not the creaking of shoes nor the rustling of silks betray thy poor heart to Shakespeare Geek!”

Bardfilm here, and I’m worried that Shakespeare Geek will get back and learn that he’s been hacked. Before he does something irrevocable, I’ll use this Bully Pulpit one last time.  Here goes . . .

Finding Nemo is Pericles

Up is King Lear

Monsters, Inc. is Titus Andronicus

Beauty and the Beast is Taming of the Shrew (and so is The Lady and the Tramp)

Pocahontas is The Tempest

Robin Hood is As You Like It

Dumbo is King Henry VIII

and

The Lion King is Hamlet!

Heigh, ho! Bardfilm here.

I just read a brief 2001 article by Eric Sterling that argues that Hamlet knew that it was Polonius behind the arras and that he kills him on purpose (rather than killing him by mistake, thinking him to be Claudius).

Here’s his argument in a nutshell:

It’s an interesting idea, but I’m not sure Sterling addresses the counterarguments sufficiently. He asks us to consider the lines “I took thee for thy better” and “For this same lord I do repent” as Hamlet pretending he mistook Polonius for Claudius.

Does Hamlet have enough motive to kill Polonius? If he knows it’s Polonius back there, how can he kill him without a soliloquy examining the pros and cons of such an action?

Sign no more, dear readers. It’s Bardfilm here!

A few days ago, Taylor Swift announced a new album—the first in several years. It will be called Reputation (Reputation, reputation, reputation! O, I have lost my reputation! I have lost the immortal part of myself, and what remains is bestial. My reputation, Iago, my reputation!).

Yesterday, she released “Look What You Made Me Do,” the first single from the album. In it, the narrator disclaims all responsibility for her actions, putting that responsibility on the you of the song’s title.

What character or line from Shakespeare most closely fits this song?  Is it “O, I am fortune’s fool”? Or the opposite of “The fault is not in our stars but in ourselves”? Or is it more like Edmund’s speech near the beginning of King Lear?  He says, “My father compounded with my mother under the dragon’s tail, and my nativity was under ursa major; so that it follows I am rough and lecherous.” Of course, he’s making fun of the idea there, but it might fit.

Any other places where people talk about responsibility in Shakespeare?

p.s. Here’s the song and its accompanying video:

It’s Bardfilm! I’ve taken over Shakespeare Geek (the blog, not the guy) while he’s away.

In effect, I’ve seized this bully pulpit.

Teddy Roosevelt coined the term “bully pulpit” to describe the presidency. He meant that it was a terrific (“bully”) place to deliver important messages (“pulpit”).

Shakespeare uses the word “bully” quite a bit. When I was just thinking about it, the only one I could remember was “bully Bottom!” from Midsummer Night’s Dream, but he uses it a lot in Merry Wives of Windsor—and once each in The Tempest and Henry V.

He uses the word “pulpit” in only one play. Can anyone guess which one?  Hint: It sounds anachronistic, but it isn’t.

Give me your answer in the comments!