I haven't read or seen a production of Richard III for maybe twelve years, though, so here are the bits that I forgot about / liked better this time round, all brought to you through the magic of EXTENSIVE SWEARING.
The problem with Richard, Duke of Gloucester and later King Richard III - apart from the fact that he's a total prick - is that he's the cleverest guy in the room and he knows it. In the famous opening monologue, hunchbacked supervillain Richard announces to the audience that he plans on going about fucking up everyone's shit without them knowing what shit he's fucking! Grab your popcorn.
(Richard seems to have forgotten that one day it will be helpful to have people who will trust you and who you can trust back)(maybe he should have had one redeeming feature, like liking kittens or something?)(baddies 4 lyf).
So Richard fucks up some shit, then gloats about it, before unveiling his plan for more extensive shit up-fucking, all with the intention of becoming king shit of turd mountain (i.e. England, so wracked by war and infighting since the time of Richard II that it's little more than a sad brown smear in the North Atlantic).
Richard fucks up everyone so bad that he manages to a) have his brother murdered, b) convince a woman who hates him to marry him, c) turn half the court against one another d) imprison the other half and e) get a couple of kids slaughtered for what, at this point, seems like shits and giggles.
Oh Richard.
From there it's half sadistic wish fulfilment (Richard eventually gets the crown through dissembling, violence and general cuntishness) and half schadenfreude (everything turns to shit, Richard isn't that clever after all, battle battle battle, Richard wants a horse, Richard is dispatched by the Earl of Richmond who becomes Henry VII, the Wars of the Roses are doneburger, England is well again, we can all go home).
What I am enjoying, apart from set pieces involving bumbling assassins (Act I, Scene 4), are the near infinite ways of saying the world is a cruel place, like when Queen Elizabeth hears that her husband, King Edward IV, is dead, and cries out against the loneliness and awfulness of grief:
Why grow the branches when the root is gone?
Why wither not the leaves that want their sap?
If you will live, lament. If die, be brief,
That our swift-winged souls may catch the King's
Or, like obedient subjects, follow him
To his new kingdom of ne'er changing night. (II.2.42-47)
... or like when the aging witchy-poo Queen Margaret curses pretty much everyone for being singularly awful, and then has a go at Richard:
If heaven have any grievous plague in store
Exceeding those that I can wish upon thee,
O, let them keep it till thy sins be ripe,
And then hurl down their indignation
On thee, the troubler of the poor world's peace!
The worm of conscience still begnaw thy soul!
Thy friends suspect for traitors while thou livest,
And take deep traitors for thy dearest friends!
No sleep close up that deadly eye of thine,
Unless it be whilst some tormenting dream
Affrights thee with a hell of ugly devils!
Thou elvish-mark'd, abortive, rooting hog!
Thou that wast seal'd in thy nativity
The slave of nature and the son of hell!
Thou slander of thy mother's heavy womb!
Thou loathed issue of thy father's loins! (I.3.681-696)
... or like when the ghosts of all the murdered appear at the end to curse Richard and lay their blessings on his foe Richmond:
Despair and die! (x100)WHAT'S GOING ON?
More sad / grim / violent bits, please. It's like a small coffee table book of affirmations: 1000 Ways To Say I Hate You, the World's Awful, and Please Fuck Off and Die, by W Shakespeare.
Verdict: meh - although this is no reflection on the play itself, more my general indifference to revisiting something I didn't much like in the first place. I'm sure you'll love it!
Wait wait - edited to add: Okay I have been a bit unfair, and have let a very poor experience of a particularly fragmented student production of this play get in the way of me being even vaguely even handed. I am sorry Richard! This is a very good play.
Apart from the fact that my comprehension in terms of Shakespearean form is improving substantially as I keep reading, my biggest take-away so far is the need for a good copy of the script, which should come with big red letters across the front stating not to fuck too much with the intentions and characters. The Folgers versions of the scripts (long may they continue to feature detailed glossaries and helpful synopses and pretty pictures) also include implied stage directions, including directional cues such as who is talking to whom, and who is talking to the audience or themselves. This helps with clarity and spatial understanding a lot, especially when there are multiple people or groups on stage. One scene that I recall having a really hard time getting my head around re: voice and intention, made much more sense when I realised, while reading, that I should have been speaking secretly to the audience in certain parts, and not just going BLAH BLAH BLAH CURSE CURSE CURSE in the direction of the other actors.
Recommendation: supersize your Wars of the Roses happy meal by reading Henry VI parts 1-3 and Richard III all in a row and make a weekend of it. And don't be a grinch.
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