Movie Review : Get Over It

(My apologies to whoever pointed me this movie, I’ve forgotten whether it was here on the blog or Twitter or elsewhere.)

Get Over It is, for the most part, your standard high school romantic comedy:  nerdy guy has awesome girl, nerdy guy loses awesome girl to handsome jerk.  Even more awesome girl (Kirsten Dunst) comes along who loves nerdy guy, but he doesn’t see it because he’s too busy trying to win back awesome girl #1.  Blah blah, awesome girl #1 learns what a fool she’s been and wants nerdy guy back, nerdy guy decides that awesome girl #2 is the better choice, happily ever after.

Now, take that plot and drop it on top of a production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream.  Interesting.  Especially when you have handsome jerk playing Lysander, nerdy guy as Demetrius, original awesome girl as Hermia and new and better awesome girl as Helena.

Now, do it as a musical.  Directed by Martin Short, playing one of those standard “washed-up actor who goes on to direct high school theatre” roles (very similar to the Hamlet 2 thing that just came around last year).  Is it me, or does Kirsten Dunst try to sing in all her movies?  It’s… cute. 

With any movie like this, I typically watch it for the Shakespeare.  While the jokes are pretty standard stuff, there are some funny bits.  When was the last time you caught yourself humming a catchy tune from Macbeth?  Shakespeare may have been a great poet, but he’s no Burt Bacharach!

The ending, truthfully, was a surprise.  I mean, not in the “Nerdy guy gets the right girl” thing. That always happens.  I mean, how it all goes down.  Actually it came down to a single word, which I found possibly the funniest part of the whole movie, but I can’t explain it without ruining the joke. If you collect this sort of stuff you might have missed it when it first came around.  I know I’d never heard of it. 

Review: Will, By Christopher Rush

A few weeks back the good people at Overlook Press sent me a copy of Will, which imagines Shakespeare on his deathbed dictating his last will and testament to his lawyer.

Given the prominent role the mystery of the will plays in the authorship question, what with talk of second-best beds and no mention of books and theatre things, such a task is quite daunting to begin with. When you open to the first page and realize that Rushmore intends to tell Shakespeare’s story in first person, well, to borrow a phrase from the vernacular let’s say the man has some serious grapefruits on him. Know what I mean?

And what does the voice of Will say? Well, he quotes and references himself quite often. Not in a bad way, not like Rushmore can’t think of anything better to have him say. Instead we get a man who spent his life crafting a phrase and now mocks his own talent at doing so, borrowing his character’s words to express his points, those words having come from his own brain in the first place. Very believable for a playwright recounting his life. He even puns on his own work, such as referring to a particular term as a “brave new word.” I particularly got a kick out of him working the word “groatsworth” into the narrative, I can only imagine how small a portion of the audience gets that reference.

What else does grumpy old Will tell his lawyer? Well he swears a lot. Talks about bodily functions in graphic detail, obsesses about death. That second bit is pretty interesting. Lots of undiscovered country talk. A fascinating digression on Lazarus and why nobody bothered to ask him any questions about the Great Beyond. In Rushmore’s version, Will spent his childhood haunted by ghost stories and visits to haunted cemeteries. He does
Not paint a pleasant picture of life for young Will.

I won’t lie, the narrative is hard to follow. Shakespeare is the narrator, speaking to his lawyer. So 80% of every page is supposed to be conversational, but never with a quotation mark or a “Shakespeare said…” Between every few paragraphs the lawyer interjects with typically a single sentence, and it’s almost like the author does that just to make sure we don’t forget Will isn’t just talking into a tape recorder.

And then periodically it switches to third person, which leaves me wondering if that is an editor’s mistake. You’ll get a line like (paraphrased), “Then Frances took a bite of his meal.” Ummm… The narrator Shakespeare is speaking to Frances the lawyer, so who is talking there? It happens infrequently enough to be jarring when it does.

What of the big questions? The second best bed and all that? I’m not done with the book yet so I can’t spoil it for you. I can tell you that I’m anxious to find out for myself!

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Tempest On The Cape

Caliban

http://www.shakespeareonthecape.org So!  I packed up the family, took the day off work Friday and headed down Cape Cod for a “Kiddie Shakes” production of The Tempest.  All my regular readers will know how exciting this was for me – The Tempest being the way I introduced my kids to Shakespeare, telling it to them as a bedtime story for as long as they can remember.  So the idea of that being their first performance (even better, a special kids’ version of the show), was too good to pass up.

Took us a little while to find it.  With only the location “Mashpee Commons” in mind, I’m heading into this thinking “Boston Common” – some sort of big grassy lawn where we can spread a blanket, maybe set up some chairs.  When I turned into the area called Mashpee Commons and found what could best be termed an outdoor shopping mall, I was just a little confused.  Eventually security told us “It’s between the movie theatre and the Banana Republic”, and darn it all, that’s exactly where it was.  No grassy area, just a brick courtyard sort of a thingie where they’d set up, god, maybe 30 or so plastic lawn chairs.  There were no signs at all saying what was going on, just a handful of props strewn about the ground.

You know what? I LOVED IT.  Out came the cast from behind a hastily hung screen in the corner, not even 10 of them.  They were all young – I’d be surprised if any of them had hit their mid 30’s.  The cast was mostly female, so Prospero and Antonio were both played by women (as well as Trinculo, who also played the narrator, but it seems to me that Trinculo is often cast as a woman).  The story then became everything that I love about trying to explain Shakespeare to people.  First, Trinculo (whose real name was Tessa) would narrate, in a sort of Dr. Seuss rhyming style.  But then, this is the best part, they switched back over to legitimate performance of the actual text!  Sure they cut bits here and there (more on that later), but the important thing is that they didn’t paraphrase.  They didn’t give new lines to anybody to make it easier.  That’s what the narrator was there for.   So you’ve got one person talking to the audience saying, “Here’s what’s about to happen (e.g. Stefano and Trinculo, with Caliban, plot to take over the island), and then you get that scene.  My wife came away saying “Now that one I really liked, I understood every word.”

Since the whole thing ran 45 minutes they certainly cut a bunch, and particularly toward the end it seemed to wrap up very quickly.  For my taste I could have watched them do the whole play this way – it’s not like it’s that long of a play to begin with.    Gonzalo was completely eliminated, which I was a little sad about, I like him.  They left in his first speech (about an acre of dry land), giving it to a random sailor who never appeared again.  But that was it – nobody tried to kill him as he slept next to the king, and he was not around to be reunited with his friend Prospero.  I happened to be around for the later show (while my kids got ice cream and watched a juggler), and Gonzalo was even edited out of the grown up version.

The show had clearly been organized to showcase Ariel and Caliban, since they ended up with the most stage time.  All the other humans (including Prospero) seemed more at the whim of the narrator who could cut them off and say “…and then this happens” and that was the end of that.  Caliban, on the other hand, really threw himself into the role, cackling like a fiend and leaping through his scenes all hunched over like some frog-like henchman from a monster movie.

Ariel, in contrast was…hmmm, what’s a good adjective for Ariel?  Ariel (played by Ben, whom I’d spoken to online to tell I was coming to the show) was really the center of attention, and I mean that in a variety of ways.  He seemed to tower over the rest of the cast.  And whenever he was on stage he came with special effects, whether noise makers (a drum and a thunder machine, in particular), a chorus of fairies to sing with him (they were quite good), or just a bunch of sheets that served as everything from ocean to stage-within-the-stage (for Prospero’s wedding gift to the children) to Ariel’s Fury costume.

They did a lot with what they had.  (By the way, is it always that hard to fit “suffer a sea-change” into the rhythm of the song?  Never seems to fit right, both when I’ve heard it and when I’ve tried to sing it myself.)

How was the performance?  Given the setting it was darned near “Shakespeare in the wild”.  Clearly an act of love for what they were doing.  Shoppers were walking all around, and at least once somebody walked through the set.  But they persevered.   I was in awe, the entire time.  Maybe I’m a special case – here’s a bunch of people acting out my children’s bedtime stories, something I could never hope to do.  None of them seemed like “seasoned professionals” (although perhaps they all hope to be some day :)), and nobody passed the hat.  I was surprised at that last, I was all set to contribute.  Perhaps it came out later, during the adult performance?

Only one time did I flinch at a directorial choice, and that’s when the narrator introduced the monster “Cackle-a-ban”, and I was like, “ummm…what?”  Then the actors came out and referred to him as Caliban, and I thought “Perhaps that was a mistake.”  No – in narration, they named him Cackleaban, but in the play he remained Caliban.  I don’t understand that.

The cast hung out after the show, letting the kids play with the props and asking questions about the story.  As always my kids froze under pressure of being asked a direct question, but hey, I’m working on them :).  We hung out waiting for Ben, which must have come across like we were some sort of fan club – “Hey Ben, there’s a guy and his wife and kids out here asking for you!”  I felt awkward not just jumping in and hanging out with the whole cast, but I haven’t quite gotten used to just walking up to people and saying “Hi, I’m Duane from ShakespeareGeek.com” unless I’ve had some sort of connection with them.  Makes me feel like a newspaper reporter looking for a story or something.  Perhaps I’ll have to get used to that however, as Ben came out of the dressing area (out of costume) and said, “You must be Duane from Shakespeare Geek?” and the rest of the cast said, “Oh!  You’re the one he’s been telling us about!”  So, Ben, my apologies to the rest of the gang if I seemed at all rude.

In all, it was the time of my life.  I’d spend my entire summer going to shows like that if I could.  It fired on all cylinders for me – a show that my family knew and could understand, performed in a small enough venue that we could comfortably watch and enjoy it, keeping “original” text (yes yes, I know), by a cast small and friendly enough to hang out and talk to us after.  So glad I went!  Highly recommended.  Even if you can’t get to this particular show, go find your local group that does something similar and go put some butts in the seats for them.

Review : As You Like It, Boston Common 2008

I tell myself every year, don’t go with people. 🙂  The show’s been rained out for a week so the crowd is huge.  I convince our dinner dates to skip dessert so we have any chance at all of getting a seat.   Our seats are in the back, and they stink.  We can see people walking around on stage, but anything that involves sitting on the stage, or worse, down in front of the stage, we’ll have just audio. The opening few scenes worried me a bit.  I was thinking that they’d catch the audiences attention, what with the fight between Oliver and Orlando happening so quickly.  But, first disappointment.  Orlando throws him instantly into a quick hammerlock sort of hold, and that’s that.  No fight.  Later, the fight with Charles goes longer, but not any better.  I was hoping for something more in the judo/grappling style, but what I got was bad professional wrestling.  Seriously.  Punching, kicking, all that sort of thing.  Perhaps they thought they were making it look like the popular “mixed martial arts” style.  These folks could have learned something from the WWE, such as “When you are going to pretend to drive your knee up into the head of your opponent, but you’re going to come short by about a foot?  Yeah, don’t be turned *toward* the audience so they all see that.”  That’s why I thought maybe more of a grappling style, because it seems to be safer to teach someone to fall realistically than to actually hit each other realistically. Rosalind and Celia were handled much better.  For my taste they did the “giggling school girl” thing a bit too much (complete with that cliched “grab each other by both hands/forearms and then screaming while jumping up and down in a circle”), but if that’s what works for the audience, it won’t kill me.  The forest scenes were interesting.  Maybe somebody who saw the show can tell me….why the plane?  The forest scene involves a downed airplane, and I think from the distance we were at that Duke Senior was dressed as an aviator.  So I’m guessing the interpretation was “the exiled Duke was flying from his kingdom when he crashed in the forest”?  I don’t recall any specific references to it, expressed or implied. Pretty big prop to never mention. I don’t think the crowd really got Touchstone (who was dressed in a bright yellow suit that made me alternately think “vaudeville” and “carnival barker”).  His humor, that whole sort of “I’m bored so I will play a wordgame with you”, never really seemed to get much of a laugh. Jaques on the other hand got a reaction every time.  Someone had told me that the actor playing this role was Bottom last year, and once I knew that it was hard to hear anything else.  Maybe he’s got all the funniest lines, or maybe he just delivers them better.  [Can I just admit, I would never have thought about pronouncing the name Jay-Kwees?  I just always assumed it was like the French “Jack”.  This is my first time seeing AYLI performed.] One telling moment came when he began, “All the world’s a stage…”  and I swear, the crowd noise ceased and heads turned.  It was like people otherwise bored with the show suddenly perked up and went “Ohhhhhh!  THIS is where that comes from!”  I thought it was funny as all heck. Anyway, the rest of the show goes pretty much as you might expect.  Rosalind’s got all the good stuff, especially in her interaction with Orlando.  Her pretending to be a man (and often forgetting) has probably all been done before, but that doesn’t make it not funny.   I think the audience for the most part could have done without the whole Phebe/Silvius subplot, which really seems like it’s there just to flesh out the second half. I can’t say I loved it.  It was nice, and funny in the expected places, but what else can I really say?  Sometimes the acting seemed pretty wooden, other times it seemed like they went for the easy interpretation (like all the giggling schoolgirl stuff).  Our friends left at intermission.  Not being big Shakespeare fans to begin with, the lousy seats just put it over the top.  My wife stuck it out with me (what’s she gonna do, I’ve got the keys? :)) although toward the end she was asking me to point to paragraphs in the synopsis to see how far along we were. Of the comedies I’ve seen on the Common (Dream, Shrew, Much Ado, AYLI), this one ends up fourth of the four.  Somebody’s gotta be, I suppose.

Review : Shakespeare Wars, by Ron Rosenbaum

It’s taken me almost 2 years to finish Shakespeare Wars, and given how often I’ve blogged about individual pieces it’s somewhat anticlimactic to review it now.  But, I’ll give it a shot.

Start with a common assumption about the quality of Shakespeare’s works.  That it is possible to run into another person, discuss that special something that makes Shakespeare Shakespearean, and understand what each other is talking about, even if you can’t define it.  (I find, when I really get animated, that I either stop talking all together because words can’t adequately express it, or I just start cussing like George Carlin because of the outlet it provides in getting one’s point across :))

In one way, this book is Rosenbaum’s effort to define what that something is.  He gives plenty of examples that skirt around the issue.  His retelling of Brooks’ famous “split the atom and release the infinite energies” line, for example, is what convinced me to buy the book.  Lines like that abound throughout the book, making the Shakespeare lover in us all laugh and rock back and forth in our chairs and say, “Yes!  yes yes yes!  Exactly!” to no one in particular, because we know there’s someone on the other end of the page, the author, who has captured the feeling exactly as we felt it.

He speaks of Cordelia’s line, “No cause, no cause…” in such reverent tones that the memory of the moment brings tears to his eyes even as he types it, and we believe him. He describes Kevin Kline’s Falstaff almost entirely based on how the character gets up from a bench in the first scene, as if that were enough to capture the entire performance.  And we know it is, because we’ve all had moments like that, split seconds in time, where you feel some brief glimpse into the bottomlessness of what Shakespeare’s words provide.

I chose that word bottomlessness on purpose, because it is a major theme in the book and it’s where I think things start to go over the edge for me.  Rosenbaum’s position seems to be, “Ok, let’s assume that a true and perfect understanding of what it means to be Shakespearean is like a bottomless void, and we will never know the real answers for certain.   Now, having agreed to that, let’s spend our lives pursuing the answer anyway.”

And that’s where, as a logic-driven engineering sort, I mentally start to check out.  If you’ve agreed that there is no true answer, then pursuit of one can only lead to madness.  I had an idea once for a book called What Shakespeare Means To Me, which would essentially be a collection of those moments in time, those glimpses of the infinite, that we’ve all had the joy of experiencing.  I would read a book like that.  Just story after story of shared bliss.  Where Shakespeare Wars was that, I was all about it.  Heck, where it was about that it was all I could do to not rush back to the computer and blog about it (as I often did anyway).

But the remainder of the book ends up being an exploration of every corner of Shakespeare’s works by the various personalities who champion each direction as being the one true source for the one true answer.  There’s the Original Spelling group.  The Two Hamlets and the Three Lears war.  The “never blotted a line” argument.  The “close readers”.  Where each of these was a lesson in how one might study Shakespeare, I was all for it.  Where it turned into a story about one individual who has spent 30 thankless years trying to prove his point, I don’t know what I was. I can’t really say I was sympathetic.

There is more in this book that bored me than thrilled me.  Rosenbaum spends much of the book (he opens and closes with it) salivating over Brooks’ Dream, something that I never saw and apparently will never be able to see.  When he tries to define the infinite, either through his own experience or the example of others, I was usually lost.  But we he pointed to specific examples – Kline, Welles, even Clare Danes as Juliet – things that I could share in, I was hooked.  It was those moments that kept me reading this book, because they are just that good.