Paper Three

Eminem: The Shakespeare of our time?

Hindsight is an odd thing. It would surprise many to learn that William Shakespeare, today unanimously recognised as a brilliant and even ingenious poet and playwright, did not always possess the highly respected reputation that he does today. Renowned French Enlightenment philosopher Voltaire famously referred to Shakespeare as “a drunken savage with some imagination whose plays please only in London and Canada”.[1] That Stratford’s most famous son drew such ire from a figure of such esteem is astonishing, but there is truth to the old cliché that artists are rarely properly appreciated during their lifetime.

One artist who has lived to enjoy critical acclaim but has also attracted his fair share of vitriolic detractors is Marshall Bruce Mathers III, better known to the world as Eminem. The rapper, songwriter and record producer has sold nearly 90 million albums worldwide, making him the best selling recording artist of the 2000s and one of the best selling artists of all time. In spite, or perhaps because, of this success, Eminem has been subject to substantial criticism concerning the content of his lyrics.  Like Shakespeare, his work is populist and appealing to the masses, but it is also defined by a strong sense of craftsmanship and artistry. Is it possible that Eminem is to our era what Shakespeare was to his?

Much like Shakespeare, Eminem is a man of humble beginnings. Born in 1972 in Detroit, the young Marshall Mathers grew up with an alcoholic mother and an absent father. The hardships he encountered while growing up proved to be effective fuel for his music and before long, his demo tape found its way to Dr. Dre, founding member of N.W.A. and one of the most respected record producers in the business. That he was impressed enough by a white rapper’s work to give him a record deal is testament to Eminem’s talent; hip hop culture at the time was largely celebrated by black audiences, and it has been noted that Dr. Dre seriously risked his reputation and credibility by going against the grain in the way he did. However, since his 1999 breakthrough with The Slim Shady LP, Eminem has not only conquered the hip-hop world but also broken into the mainstream, becoming a figure as ubiquitous in popular culture as Shakespeare himself. Eminem’s lyrics are even beginning to be studied

Critics of hip-hop are numerous and wide-ranging, with many focusing on the attitudes of misogyny and homophobia that pervade the work of many rappers. Eminem is no exception; the words “bitch”, “hoe” and “faggot” are commonly found in his songs. In a piece for The New York Times entitled In America; A Musical Betrayal, Bob Herbert opines, with a choice of words not unlike that of Voltaire, that “in Eminem’s world all women are “whores” and he is eager to rape and murder them”.[2] Such criticisms are not entirely unfounded, but they ignore the thematic resonance of Eminem’s lyrical matter. Just as works by Shakesepeare such as Macbeth explore themes of murder and sexuality in a highly vivid manner, Eminem aims to remove his audiences from their comfort zone with his harsh criticism of society. Though his ironic appropriation of hip-hop culture behaviour was harder to distinguish from actual bigotry earlier in his career, Eminem has become more mature and visibly thoughtful in recent years.

No song better displays Eminem’s linguistic dexterity and lyrical mastery than his 2000 single Stan. The song was included on his album The Marshall Mathers LP and samples British singer Dido’s hit single “Thank You”, with the lyrics being written and performed from the point of view of an obsessive fan writing increasingly personal and frustrated letters to Eminem but receiving no reply. In the final verse, Eminem finally finds the time to write a letter back, but realises his fan Stan has killed himself and his pregnant girlfriend in an intoxicated rage. The song is a chilling account of mental illness, celebrity worship and the tragedy that can occur when the two collide:

“I can relate to what you’re saying in your songs

So when I have a shitty day, I drift away and put ‘em on

Cause I don’t really got shit else so that shit helps when I’m depressed

I even got a tattoo of your name across my chest

Sometimes I even cut myself to see how much it bleeds

It’s like adrenaline; the pain is such a sudden rush for me

See everything you say is real and I respect you ‘cause you tell it

My girlfriend’s jealous because I talk about you 24/7”[3]

In just eight lines, Eminem paints an amazingly three-dimensional portrait of the character Stan, hinting at undiagnosed mental and emotional problems and suppressed homoerotic desires. Not only are the lyrics rich in thematic content, but Eminem displays an impressive skill in rhythm and rhyming; not only do the last words of lines rhyme with each other as in most rap music, but Eminem also includes multiple rhyming words within individual lines such as, “So when I have a shitty day, I drift away and put ‘em on”. Despite his fame and multiple awards, I feel Eminem is underrated in terms of his linguistic prowess; his use of metaphor and wordplay is extremely similat to that of Shakespeare himself.

Whatever one’s personal stance on Eminem and the content of his music, it is undeniable that he is extremely talented. I believe it is entirely possible that hundreds of years from now, future generations will hold Eminem in the same regard as William Shakespeare. Even if this does not transpire, I believe the mere possibility to be extremely exciting and worth discussion. Indeed, the very fact that one can raise such a possibility without it seeming wholly ridiculous is testament to the possibility that Eminem’s future legacy will eclipse his current fame.

Bibliography

Armstrong, Dido, Herman, Paul and Mathers, Marshall. Stan Aftermath Entertainment: Interscope Records, 2000.

Herbert, Bob. “In America; A Musical Betrayal” The New York Times,

http://www.nytimes.com/2001/01/29/opinion/in-america-a-musical-betrayal.html

Voltaire. The Shakespeare Book of Lists, edited by Michael LoMonico, 34. U.S.A.: Book-mart Press, 2001.

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[1] Voltaire, “The Shakespeare Book of Lists”, ed. Michael LoMonico (U.S.A.: Book-mart Press, 2001) 34.

[2] Bob Herbert, “In America; A Musical Betrayal,” The New York Times,

http://www.nytimes.com/2001/01/29/opinion/in-america-a-musical-betrayal.html (accessed on April 25, 2012).

[3] Dido Armstrong, Paul Herman and Marshall Mathers, Stan (Aftermath Entertainment: Interscope Records, 2000).

She's The Man

So I wanted to discuss, however briefly, the debate that at times threatened to tear our class apart: adaptation vs. appropriation. I don't think there are many films better for solidifying one's position on the matter than the iconic Amanda Bynes vehicle She's The Man:

I think we can probably all agree that She's The Man is the latest in a long line of classic American sports films, but is it an adaptation or an appropriation? This is a question that saw tables being turned over and bins being thrown, but in my personal opinion, the two words don't mean entirely different things. There's some overlap between them, but a popular opinion seemed to be that a film claiming to be derived from a Shakespearean work can't be considered an adaptation if it doesn't include the original language. Under this definition, any film that strays from the text even slightly would have to be considered an appropriation. I have to say I disagree, and I think it's odd that this debate only seems to be had when Shakespeare is involved. How often is David Fincher's Fight Club referred to as an appropriation of Chuck Palahniuk's novel? Does anyone consider The Lord of the Rings trilogy to be anything other than an adaptation of Tolkien's work? What would it take for to be an appropriation of Bob Kane and Bill Finger's comic creation as opposed to an adaptation? All of these films make significant departures from their source material, and yet the word 'appropriation' is rarely invoked in conversations concerning them.

She's The Man retains superficial similarities to Twelfth Night, with characters such as Viola and Duke Orsino interacting in a setting named Illyria. The film also shares its major plot points with the original play. There are vast differences in execution, of course, but the narrative structure is actually very similar. To this end, it would be fair to call She's The Man a story inspired by Twelfth Night, but I'm of the opinion that it is an adaptation nonetheless. I'll put it this way: if instead of making a film, director Andy Fickman had instead organised a stage production of Twelfth Night that took place in an American high school, would the matter of adaptations vs. appropriations even be raised? It seems to be an issue unique to Shakespearean films, which I think is very odd indeed. Only the Bard could inspire such passion.

Dead Poet's Society

I've already covered the performance of Romeo and Juliet found within Hot Fuzz, but that was clearly intended for comic effect. The performance of A Midsummer Night's Dream that is featured towards the end of Dead Poets Society is far more poignant and bittersweet:

For those unfamiliar with the film (if there are such people in the world), Robert Sean Leonard's character Neil Perry desperately wishes to be an actor, but is told firmly by his father that he will be enrolling at Harvard to study medicine. Despite being expressly forbidden from doing so, Neil successfully auditions for the role of Puck in A Midsummer Night's Dream. Discovering Neil's secret, his father attends the performance, his emotions implacable. As the cast take their bows, Neil smiles proudly, with both him and the audience expecting the skill he displayed during the play to have moved his father to the point of being permitted to pursue a career as an actor. This is not the case, however, and the film departs from this expected narrative when Neil's father decides to enroll his son in military school to instill discipline in him. Unable to cope with the life his father wants for him, Neil commits suicide.

Director Peter Weir's depiction of A Midsummer Night's Dream in his film is indicative of how powerful Shakespeare can be at its best: wondrous, mysterious, playful and heartfelt. It is no surprise that Neil falls so deeply in love with acting through performing in the play, as it presents an entirely different world from his prim and proper prep school and the life of medical study that lies in his future. Ultimately, however, this fantasy becomes so important to him that he decides that he'd rather not live at all if he cannot achieve it.

Once more unto the drink, dear friends

In keeping with its prestigious reputation, the University of Oxford commonly attracts students of a wealthy, prosperous sort, with many of them hailing from old English families with significant footholds in history. Socially and financially exclusive, the Bullingdon Club is a private dining club formed over 200 years ago and can only be joined by invitation. The Club has no permanent rooms; instead, its members are historically notorious for drunkenly destroying the premises and property of others and paying for the damage afterwards. Both current Prime Minister David Cameron and Mayor of London Boris Johnson were members of the Bullingdon during their time at Oxford, leading to much doubt as to their ability to represent the British people as a whole and not just the wealthy elite.

The cast of the University of Manchester Drama Society's
production of Posh in February 2011 - I'm on the
far left!

First performed in London's Royal Court Theatre in 2010, Posh by Laura Wade is a play that satirises the Bullingdon and its members, taking place during a dinner meeting of the fictional Riot Club. What ensues is an evening of drunken debauchery and violence, ending in a very serious injury being inflicted upon an innocent bystander. Performing in the role of Guy Bellingfield in February 2011, I participated in one of the first amateur productions of the play in the country. I had a great time acting in the play, and I forged many of my best friendships during rehearsals.

At one point in the proceedings, the flamboyant Hugo Fraser-Tyrwhitt insists upon reviving a forgotten club tradition of members performing entertainments during dinner. Having received permission to perform a poem of his own creation, Hugo stands upon his chair and delivers the following verse:

Once more unto the drink, dear friends, once more,

And give a roar for all our English drunk.

In peace there's nothing so becomes a man

As Milo's sweetness and sobriety;

But when the call to drink rings in his ears,

He'll imitate the action of the Tubester;

Stiffen the member, summon up the sword,

Disguise understanding with hard-drinking rage;

Then look like Guy with terrible aspect;

Burning eyes 'neath the wiggage of the head

Like the George Balfour; let the brow o'erwhelm it

As fearfully as does a Grecian frown

O'erhang and jutty poor Dimitri's face,

Steeped in the wild and wanton Ouzo.

Now be like Ryle and stretch the gullet wide,

Be Harry the brave, and hold up every sabre

To its full height. On, you noblest Riot,

Whose blood is fet from vodka 80 proof!

Drinkers that, like so many Old Etonians

Have in these parts from morn till even drank,

Then drank some more for love of Leighton.

Dishonour not dead members; now attest

That Knights like our Lord Riot did beget you.

Be envy now to clubs of weaker blood,

And teach them how to drink. The game's afoot!

Pour out the spirits, and with glasses charged

Cry, "God for Harry, Dimitri and Alistair, James, Toby, Edward, Milo,

Hugo, Guy and George!"

As is pointed out by other club members, this is merely "a bit of Shakespeare with our names in it", but Hugo is successful in entertaining his fellow Rioters.  This is an interesting perversion of King Henry's iconic monologue from Henry V; not only does Hugo replace the patriotic and jingoistic enthusiasm of the original monologue with crude references to binge drinking, he also replaces this sense of national pride with far more elitist overtones. In particular, the reference to Old Etonians is indicative of the monied white boys club that the government has become in the last couple of years. That Hugo not only reuses but alters the words of an inherently English figure such as Shakespeare perfectly epitomises the mindset of the Riot Club: England will be theres, and they will do whatever they want with it.

The Hip Hop Shakespeare Company

Lately I've found myself fascinated by the connections between Shakespeare and hip hop, and it is likely that I will end up writing my final paper on this topic. I found a great video of the Hip Hop Shakespeare Company, founded by London rapper Akala:

Rap is an art form that is criminally undermined by its mainstream representation. Very few hip hop songs in the charts are any good, with many of them glorifying violence, sexism and homophobia. As Akala says, his work with the Hip Hop Shakespeare Company focuses on rap from the eighties and nineties, when the genre as a whole produced more socially conscious work. I don't believe the connection to be tenuous at all; the best rappers such as Ice Cube, 2Pac and Mos Def use extremely clever witticisms and wordplay to highlight and critique serious issues including gang culture, black on black violence and the treatment of women in society. Shakespeare himself was not above puns and double entendres, and many of his uses of these devices are cherished as great artistic touches. It feels as if there's an intellectual bias against hip hop - one that I hope society is able to overcome over time.

What was it Shakespeare said?

Once again, I've unfortunately run into a YouTube killjoy who has disabled embedding on their videos. For an amusing twenty second clip, click here:

http://youtu.be/gH89oDQcApM

This is an excerpt from Peep Show, my favourite English comedy show and one of my top favourites overall. The show explores the mindset of two thirty-somethings sharing a flat in Croydon, and is known for deriving humour from psychologically dark and uncomfortable subject matter. In this clip, perpetually jobless drug user Jeremy has begun to turn over a new leaf, claiming he is in love with neighbour Elena. Mark, ever sardonic and pessimistic, is highly skeptical. Unable to describe his emotions with his own words, Jez attempts, as so many have before him, to invoke the words of Shakespeare without really understanding how:

"What was it Shakespeare said?"

"He said a lot of things, Jeremy."

"He basically said something about how there are more things there than there are actual things that you can see with your eyes. That's not the exact quote."

It's interesting that if you ask somebody to quote Shakespeare, a large number of people will not fully understand the context of their own reply. For example, "To be or not to be" is often quoted by people, but how many of them know that this line refers to Hamlet's decision whether or not to kill himself? In the clip, Jeremy tries to relate what he thinks are highly romantic feelings through the use of a Shakespeare quote that doesn't even exist; his effort to appear to have cultural capital only serves to undermine his own intelligence. Peep Show is full of clever social criticism like this and I heartily recommend it to any fan of sharp and biting humour that examines the mental state of the modern man.

The Bad Sleep Well

Japanese director Akria Kurosawa is one of the most respected filmmakers in the history of the medium, receiving critical acclaim for his work and influencing a generation of now legendary directors such as Steven Speilberg, Francis Ford Coppola, Martin Scorcese and George Lucas. Though his approach to narrative and story structure has been studied widely, some of Kurosawa's most famous films are actually adaptations of Shakespeare plays: Throne of Blood is based on Macbeth, Ran is based on King Lear and The Bad Sleep Well is based on Hamlet.

Rather than the characters belonging to the Danish royal family, Kurosawa sets his story within a corrupt corporation against the backdrop of a bombed-out, post-war Japan. Played by regular Kurosawa collaborator Toshiro Mifune, Koichi Nishi abandons his prominent position within the company to uncover those who conspired to murder his father and bring them to justice. The success of the modified story is testament to the universality of Shakespeare; while retaining most of the key plot points from Hamlet with few major alterations, Kurosawa uses the the story to craft a damning criticism of corporate corruption.

While the concept is an interesting take on the source material, I found myself unable to engage with the characters of the film; much like the titular bad, I found myself sleeping very well indeed. I think this may well be a fault on my part rather than Kurosawa's; having grown up with kinetic, naturalistic films, Kurosawa's theatrical and deliberately paced style was at odds with my viewing comfort zone. Despite this, I found the imagery of the film to be breathtaking, with much of the action taking place in disused quarries and bomb shelters. The bleak landscapes reflect Nishi's desperate state of mind as he struggles to find his father's killers while trying not to lose himself completely to darkness. As in the original play, The Bad Sleep Well is a detailed and methodical character study and meditation on the nature of revenge.

Paper Two

Much Ado About Nothing vs. Much Ado About Nothing

Due to the persistent public demand for performances and adaptations of the works of William Shakespeare, innumerable productions of his plays exist that, save for their shared stories and dialogue, are almost unrecognisable from one to the next. When staging or filming a particular Shakespeare play, theatre and film directors are unable to escape the legacy of the text they are working with, and so seek to portray their own interpretation of the play and put their own creative stamp on the material. Such is the case with Kenneth Branagh’s 1993 cinematic adaptation of Shakespeare’s comedy Much Ado About Nothing and the 2005 BBC reimagining of the same play. Though they both tell essentially the same story, the two films are almost entirely different. Which, then, is more faithful to the spirit of the original play?

Kenneth Branagh’s Much Ado About Nothing was released in 1993. An entrant in the 1993 Cannes Film Festival, the film is also one of the most financially successful cinematic Shakespeare adaptations in history. Filming on location in Tuscany,  Branagh retains the Italian Renaissance setting, lending an air of romanticism to the production. After Emma Thompson’s playful reading of Balthasar’s song Sigh no more over a dark screen, we fade in on a painting of a beautiful Tuscan villa. The camera moves, in what Timothy Corrigan refers to as a “pan”[1], to the left, and we bear witness to a lush pastoral landscape that is every bit as breathtaking as the painting. Composer Patrick Doyle’s soothing score, incorporating strings and a classical guitar, helps to create an atmosphere of calm and peace. Leonato, played here by Richard Briers, moves into frame and laughs with contentment as he continues to paint. The camera begins to track left, showing the inhabitants of the villa enjoying a leisurely picnic as Emma Thompson’s Beatrice continues to read the song. The tranquility is disturbed, however, when a messenger informs the party that Don Pedro and his men approach, fresh from their victory in a great battle. During the conversation between Beatrice and the messenger, edited using the “shot/reverse shot”[2] technique, Branagh frames Beatrice against the backdrop of open fields and the artfully designed villa, taking full advantage of the aesthetic advantages of shooting on location. What ensues next is a credits sequence that firmly establishes Branagh’s aspiration of making the film a work of spectacle and grandeur; indeed, Maurice Hindle notes that the famed actor and director made reference to “all the Hollywood that got packed into the film”[3] in promotional interviews for the adaptation.

A montage of close-ups is shown, in which Branagh focuses on individual insert shots, such as a flag flowing in the breeze or the hooves of horses kicking up dirt as they gallop onwards. Barnagh then begins to cut between wide shots of the picnickers running back to the villa and individual medium shots of each of the horse riders. This sequence is shot entirely in slow motion, adding to the grandiosity of the action. As the title card ‘Much Ado About Nothing’ appears onscreen, the camera cuts to a wide shot of all the riders as they throw their fists into the air and cheer. The score, now incorporating booming brass instruments and crashing cymbals, builds to a crescendo to announce the title of the film in a triumphantly exuberant manner. Branagh’s love for the material is palpable, and the shot selection and editing of the sequence seem explicitly designed to announce the return of Shakespeare to the screen in the grandest manner imaginable.

First broadcast in 2005, David Nicholl’s adaptation of Much Ado About Nothing was presented as part of the BBC’s Shakespeare Retold series, which placed four plays by William Shakespeare into a modern day context. The Much Ado About Nothing episode updates the story from Renaissance-era Messina as in the original text to a 21^st century British television studio. Benedick, played by Damien Lewis, and Beatrice, played by Sarah Parish, are recast in the roles of bickering co-anchors of a local news program. This adaptation takes significant liberties with the plot of the original play, most notably in addition of a past relationship between Hero, played by Billie Piper, and Don, played by Derek Riddell.

The opening sequence of the BBC’s modernised version of Much Ado About Nothing is, even without comparing it to Branagh’s adaptation, decidedly low-key and technically unimpressive. Rather than Patrick Doyle’s rousing score, the viewer is instead treated to Tom Jones’ love song Help Yourself. Restricted by a television budget, director Brian Percival eschews the awe-inspiring landscape shots of Branagh’s introductory sequence in favour of cross-cutting between Beatrice and Benedick as they apparently both prepare for a date together. This is a wholly original scene that is not present in the original text, and represents Nicholl’s speculation as to the origin of the “merry war” between the two. The two characters are shown gazing into mirrors in close-up shots as they inspect their appearance, but while Beatrice’s face is wracked with insecurity and uncertainty, Benedick is smug and evidently extremely pleased by the sight of his reflection. This quickly establishes this adaptation’s portrayal of Benedick as a smarmy and self-involved blowhard who comes to redeem himself over the course of the story. Beatrice scatters flower petals on the bed, obviously concerned with romance, but as Benedick applies deodorant to his crotch, it is clear that he is driven by interests that are far more sexual than they are sensual. As Benedick leaves his house, we briefly see the ocean in the background. Percival has traded the vast and vivacious Tuscan countryside for a small, somewhat grotty seaside town in Wessex. This setting, and indeed the whole opening sequence, is indicative of the scope of the entire film; everything is on a smaller scale than in Branagh’s version.

While the Shakespeare Retold presentation of Much Ado About Nothing is a divertingly entertaining affair, it unfortunately pales in comparison to Branagh’s masterful adaptation. The opening sequences are hugely informative in that they establish the tone that each film maintains to their conclusions. Branagh’s vision in his role as director is cinematic and grandiose, and he brings the characters and story of the original text to life in so enthusiastic a manner that passion and joy is evident in every frame, every camera movement and every line of dialogue. It is a film that, while unafraid to be whimsical and amusingly eccentric at times, also explores the complexities of Shakespeare’s play. Conversely, Much Ado About Nothing as produced by the BBC is a light and frothy affair that is lacking in dramatic weight. Though it incorporates intertextuality and self-awareness at times, such as the scene in which Benedick reads his favourite Shakespeare sonnets to Beatrice, it ultimately sorely lacks the subtlety of writing and performance that is abundant in Branagh’s film. It is clear that Nicholl and Percival were aiming to retell the story in a way that would appeal to mainstream viewers who may be unfamiliar with the works of Shakespeare, but this sadly does not excuse its shortcomings as both an adaptation and a film in its own right. It is my belief that in his film, Kenneth Branagh has produced the definitive cinematic adaptation of Much Ado About Nothing, and the Shakespeare Retold version simply does not compare.

Bibliography

Corrigan, Timothy. A Short Guide to Writing About Film. Pearson: Illinois, 2012.

Hindle, Maurice. Studying Shakespeare on Film. Palgrave Macmillan: New York, 2007.

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[1] Timothy Corrigan, A Short Guide to Writing About Film (Pearson: Illinois, 2012), pg. 176.

[2] ibid, pg. 177

[3] Maurice Hindle, Studying Shakespeare on Film (Palgrave Macmillan: New York, 2007), pg. 115.

The Simpsons do Macbeth

First aired in 2009, Four Great Women and a Manicure is an episode of The Simpsons that, as the title suggests, depicts four stories connected by the theme of famous strong women. In one of these stories, Homer has a lowly role in a tree in a local production of Macbeth. Frustrated by her thankless job of washing costumes, Marge concocts a plan to achieve more power for her and her husband and convinces Homer to murder Sideshow Mel and replace him as Macbeth... wait, this sounds familiar.

Unfortunately the only video I could find of this segment is in German, which perhaps makes it more suited for Alyssa's blog, but nevertheless the concept is very interesting. As they try to take control of the Macbeth production, Homer and Marge end up reenacting the story of Macbeth in a story within a story so puzzling that it gives Inception a run for its money. The meta-narrative extends to the visuals of the segment; much like Hot Fuzz appropriated its Romeo and Juliet costumes from William Shakespeare's Romeo + Juliet, Homer's costume in his role as Macbeth bears a striking similarity to the crown and fur-lined robes worn by Orson Welles in his 1948 film adaptation of Macbeth. The Simpsons is a part of the public zeitgeist just as much as the works of William Shakespeare, and to dedicate a third of an episode to a self-referential parody of one of his plays shows an expectation and level of trust on the part of the writers that their audience will understand their humorous take on the subject matter.

Hot Fuzz

There are countless great moments in the 2007 British action comedy film Hot Fuzz from writers Edgar Wright and Simon Pegg, the same writing team behind 2004's Shaun of the Dead, and one of the most memorable of them is a truly (intentionally) awful performance of Romeo and Juliet. Having pulled a giggling pair of lovers over for speeding, Sgt. Nicholas Angel and PC Danny Butterman are reluctantly roped into attending their amateur performance of the play. What ensues is nothing short of divinely cringe-worthy:

http://www.metacafe.com/watch/an-VrbMJbJnuhu22/hot_fuzz_2007_romeo_and_juliet/

Apologies for the lack of an embedded video but there isn't one available, presumably for copyright reasons. What I find interesting about this depiction of Romeo and Juliet is that the production within the film clearly lifts many elements directly from Baz Luhrman's Romeo + Juliet: the costumes, the appearance of firearms, and even the use of The Cardigans' song Lovefool. This is clearly for comic effect, and the sight of actors who are clearly in their thirties wearing the same iconic costumes as the fresh-faced Leonardo DiCaprio and Claire Danes is hilarious in its bizarreness. The great British tradition of amateur dramatics is not known for its innovation, and Wright and Pegg cleverly mine this fact for humour.

After the actors in the production are murdered, their severed heads placed close to their car on the road to lead the authorities to believe it was a speeding accident, prime suspect Simon Skinner drives past in his car as Angel and Butterman investigate the crime scene. The song playing from his car radio? None other than Romeo and Juliet by Dire Straits:

That such attention was paid to detail and intertextuality in a thirty second scene is a key reason why I love both Hot Fuzz and Shaun of the Dead, and I eagerly await the third film in their so called Three Flavours Cornetto Trilogy (a title you'll get if you watch the films).

Paper One

Henry V vs. Henry V


“In the wake of cultural materialism, New Historicism, and performance criticism, we have grown used to thinking of a historicized Shakespeare “reinvented” by readers and players with every age,”[1] writes Douglas Lanier. What Lanier is referring to is the popular phenomenon of reinterpreting Shakespeare; directors who choose to work on productions of Shakespeare plays will often apply their own vision and sensibility to the original text. This differentiation may present itself through the tone of the performance or the depiction of characters, but it is not uncommon for Shakespeare plays to be placed within historical, social and political contexts that are entirely removed from what the general public would perceive to be the ‘original’ setting. As Shakespeare plays are constantly being performed to satisfy a perpetual demand to see them, the variations on his works are innumerable. Indeed, it would be near impossible to find two identical productions of the same. Though both Laurence Olivier and Kenneth Branagh’s filmed adaptations of Henry V are ostensibly set within the same time period, they represent two radically different cinematic experiences resulting from two distinctive creative approaches. One can find no better example of the differences between the two films than by looking at how they choose to represent the central character of King Henry. However, the question must be asked: which director is more successful in achieving their aims in adapting the play? Which film is more faithful to the spirit of the original character and text?

Olivier’s Henry V was first released in 1944, and as such was produced and first viewed while World War II was still ongoing. The influence of this global conflict is evident from the first frame of the film, opening with the epitaph, “To the commandos and airborne troops of Great Britain, the spirit of whose ancestors it has been humbly attempted to recapture in some ensuing scenes, this film is dedicated”.[2] Olivier immediately makes his support for the British troops clear, and establishes a patriotic atmosphere for the film. This jingoistic attitude is no accident, as Douglas Brode notes: “Britain needed political propaganda. A spectacular film, recalling past greatness and the ability to overcome against all odds, would aid the war cause. Winston Churchill suggested to Olivier that a Henry V film would be much appreciated”.[3] It is clear that the manner in which Olivier chooses to present the character of King Henry is very much informed by Churchill’s role as a symbol of morale and unity during his time as Prime Minister. Maurice Hindle characterizes Olivier’s King Henry as “a benign and goodly king whose reign is relatively trouble free”.[4]

From the very start of the film, it is clear that Olivier has not produced an ordinary adaptation; rather than simply creating a film version of Shakespeare’s play, Olivier instead presents Globe Theatre production of the play in 1600, with much of the narrative taking place in this setting before transitioning to a more traditional filming style. This meta-narrative means that Olivier is not merely playing Henry V, but is rather playing an actor who is in turn playing the king. The introduction of King Henry in Act I Scene II is indicative of Olivier’s political agenda; as he takes to the stage as Henry, Olivier is framed in a wide shot against a backdrop made up by a rapturously applauding audience. Brass fanfare accompanies the scene as Olivier grandly bows and basks in the adulation of the crowd. This is the first of a series of scenes intended by Olivier to downplay Henry’s status of power over his subjects. Instead, he shapes the film to embody the spirit of everyone pulling together in the face of adversity, mirroring the attitude promoted by British government propaganda during World War II. Olivier’s rendition of Act III Scene I repeats this technique; as Henry delivers his iconic “Once more unto the breach” monologue, the camera pulls back to reveal that he is surrounded by soldiers, standing close enough to the king that they would be able to reach out and touch him if they so desired. Olivier’s Henry is an ordinary man who just so happens to be king, and his attitude towards his men confirms as much.

The patriotism and sunny optimism of Olivier’s film stands in dramatic contrast to Kenneth Branagh’s dark and gritty take on Henry V. Released in 1989, the film represented Branagh’s attempt to “convey the king as a more complex figure than Olivier’s heroic monarch,” according to Hindle.[5] The film’s production and release fell within the final years of Margaret Thatcher’s divisive and controversial prime ministership, and it is possible that like Olivier, Branagh was influenced by the public perception of the prime minister as he made his film. Consider Branagh’s version of Act I Scene II; while Olivier made his way onto a brightly lit stage to the sound of thunderous applause, Branagh’s Henry first appears in silhouette, shrouded in darkness in a gothic throne room. Olivier attempted to portray Henry as an approachable figure not dissimilar from any other British citizen by repeatedly framing the king standing next to or among his subjects, but in this scene, Branagh emphasizes Henry’s power by showing the king’s advisors only in a series of reaction shots as Henry makes his way to the throne. Composer Patrick Doyle’s ominous strings replace the triumphant brass fanfare of Olivier’s film. This emphasizes Henry’s status as king and his position of power over his subjects, contributing to the depiction of the character as domineering and autocratic. Branagh further exploits this dichotomy between the monarch and his underlings in his version of Act III Scene I. Though the British soldiers are initially seen standing close to Henry as in Olivier’s film, Branagh transitions into a close-up shot of Henry as he recites his speech, punctuated occasionally by close-ups of the soldiers’ facial reactions (Timothy Corrigan refers to this editing technique as “shot/reverse shot”).[6] It is important to note that even when sharing the frame with their king, the soldiers are shown from behind and in silhouette, depersonalizing them. Henry’s vantage point from atop his horse also causes him to appear far more powerful and physically imposing than his subordinates. While this scene took place in bright and peaceful daylight in the 1944 version, Branagh’s version of the scene is set at night during battle, with the shouts of men theatrening to drown out Henry’s monologue and fireballs rising up into the sky. All this leads to a decidedly darker and more pessimistic tone to the scene; Olivier’s Henry delivers the monologue from a position of brave optimism, but Branagh’s Henry is wild-eyed and crazed. He appears to fully expect the deaths of himself and his men, but is willing to make these sacrifices in order to protect his name and legacy.

Olivier and Branagh both make distinct choices in their depictions of King Henry, but ultimately, Branagh’s Henry retains the most fidelity to Shakespeare’s original character. Shakespeare’s Henry threatened the rape of women and the murder of children, and was perfectly willing to execute close friends if he felt they had betrayed him. Due to Olivier’s reshaping of the play as propaganda, these more ruthless and morally gray traits of the character are left out of his film’s screenplay. While this serves the intention of his film well, it ultimately leads to a far less compelling character and performance than in Branagh’s Henry V and as such, ends up being the less successful adaptation out of the two films.

Bibliography

Brode, Douglas. Shakespeare in the Movies: From the Silent Era to Shakespeare in Love. Oxford University Press: New York, 2000.

Corrigan, Timothy. A Short Guide to Writing About Film. Pearson: Illinois, 2012.

Hindle, Maurice. Studying Shakespeare on Film. Palgrave Macmillan: New York, 2007.

Lanier, Douglas. “Encryptions”. In Reading and Writing in Shakespeare. Edited by Daniel M. Bergeron. Associated University Presses: New Jersey, 1996.

Olivier, Laurence. Henry V. Eagle-Lion Distributors Limited, 1944.

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[1] Douglas Lanier, “Encryptions” in Reading and Writing in Shakespeare, ed. Daniel M. Bergeron (Associated University Presses: New Jersey, 1996), pg. 241.

[2] Laurence Olivier, Henry V (Eagle-Lion Distributors Limited, 1944).

[3] Douglas Brode, Shakespeare in the Movies: From the Silent Era to Shakespeare in Love (Oxford University press: New York, 2000), p.79.

[4] Maurice Hindle, Studying Shakespeare on Film (Palgrave Macmillan: New York, 2007), pg. 141.

[5] Maurice Hindle, Studying Shakespeare on Film (Palgrave Macmillan: New York, 2007), pg. 147.

[6] Timothy Corrigan, A Short Guide to Writing About Film (Pearson: Illinois, 2012), pg. 177.

Exit Music

I'm going to go in a slightly different direction now and take a look at a song inspired by Shakespearean works: Exit Music (For A Film), an incredible piece of music by one of my absolute favourite bands, fellow Brits Radiohead.

The film referred to in the title is Baz Lurhman's famous 1996 adaptation William Shakespeare's Romeo + Juliet. Radiohead wrote the song especially for the end credits of the film and went on to include it on their seminal 1997 album OK Computer, though interestingly, the song did not appear on the Romeo + Juliet soundtrack album at the request of lead singer Thom Yorke. In writing the lyrics for the song, Yorke was inspired by the climactic moment in the film in which Juliet, played by Claire Danes, holds a gun to her head. Yorke was also influenced by his personal connection with Franzo Zeffirelli's 1968 adaptation of the play (clips from which form the above music video by YouTube user quarrel84, remarking:

"I saw the Zeffirelli version when I was 13 and I cried my eyes out, because I couldn't understand why, the morning after they shagged, they didn't just run away. The song is written for two people who should run away before all the bad stuff starts. A personal song."

When one takes a look at the song lyrics, this certainly becomes evident:


"Wake from your sleep
The drying of your tears
Today we escape, we escape


Pack and get dressed
Before your father hears us
Before all hell breaks loose


Breathe, keep breathing
Don't lose your nerve
Breathe, keep breathing
I can't do this alone


Sing us a song
A song to keep us warm
There's such a chill, such a chill


And you can laugh a spineless laugh
We hope your rules and wisdom choke you
Now we are one in everlasting peace
We hope that you choke, that you choke
We hope that you choke, that you choke
We hope that you choke, that you choke" 

Despite the melancholic sound of classical guitar and the gloomy echo effect on his vocals, Yorke's lyrics at the start of the song appear to reflect an attitude of relative hopefulness. He sings in character as Romeo, his youthful impulsiveness leading him to suggest that he and Juliet run away from home and from the oppressive families who would keep them apart. Though his intentions seem to be sincere, the melancholic sound of classical guitar and the echo effect on Yorke's vocals lead the listener to conclude that this story cannot well; indeed, the tragic story of the play is a perfect fit for what some perceive as Radiohead's pessimistic style and outlook. As the song leads to its climax, the instrumentation expands to include ominous, distorted bass and cold, unsympathetic drumming. The lyrics in the final verse become angry and scornful as Yorke almost wails "Now we are one in everlasting peace... we hope that you choke, that you choke". As Romeo and Juliet resign themselves to their calamitous fates, they condemn the war between their families and those who take part in it, for if there were no feud, their story may well have had a happy ending.

On a more amusing note, the song appeared in the final episode of Father Ted, a 1990s Irish sitcom revolving around a group of priests in a remote island parish. Having saved a priest named Father Kevin from attempted suicide, the titular Father Ted cures his depression with the slap bass stylings of Theme from Shaft. However, as he steps out into the world to start his life fresh, an unfortunate incident befalls Father Kevin:

The subtle colour shift in the cinematography of the final shot to a bleak desaturated grey is extremely clever, but the choice of music is most impressive of all. With the episode first being aired in 1998, Radiohead were arguably at the peak of their long and successful career in terms of pure mainstream ubiquity. The use of their music is used as a type of comedy shorthand, as can be seen by the fact that the live studio audience begin laughing as soon as the band name is mentioned on the radio. They know what is coming, and perhaps it is the song's association with Romeo + Juliet as well as Radiohead's reputation for being 'depressing' that clues them in to the joke so quickly.