I am back from an accidental hiatus! While
most of this has involved me settling into a new academic job and all the lecture
planning / writing / dressing like a grown up / panicked imposter syndroming
that entails, I also spent an exhausting but really enriching week as one of three
adjudicators for the Christchurch Regionals of the University of Otago
Shakespeare Globe Centre New Zealand Sheilah Winn Shakespeare Festival. (Thanks, Annette, for asking me.) Ten of
the 13 pieces that we sent through to the final showcase night were directed by
students and it was a total pleasure to watch so many clever and talented high
school kids wipe the floor with some of the city’s more established theatre companies.
Steampunk witches! As You Like It set in the Summer of Love! A rapey, MRA
inspired Petruchio!
As we left after the showcase, one of the
students we’d chosen to go up to the national festival in Wellington, who
played a note-perfect Macbeth, came up to us to say YOU’VE MADE MY WHOLE LIFE
and having been through that process myself, from school show to national
competitions to travelling to the Globe with the NZ Young Shakespeare Company, I
melted into a little puddle and trickled through the floorboards. See what
happens, schools, when you don’t give all your money and support to sports
teams?
***
Today’s play is King Edward III, which was dabbed with scented oil and wrapped in silks and added to the canon in the 1990s, although there is still ongoing debate as to whether it belongs there. It was only when I was bulk purchasing cheap Shakespeare editions that I came across this and groaned a little, as the one decent annotated copy is the sort that’s annotated for clever people with an interest in meandering and complicated literary authentication procedures, as opposed to people like me who just want to read it as a bit of a romp. How will I know what all the big words mean? There is very little written on this play – no cheat sheets! – so this was a bit challenging.
Today’s play is King Edward III, which was dabbed with scented oil and wrapped in silks and added to the canon in the 1990s, although there is still ongoing debate as to whether it belongs there. It was only when I was bulk purchasing cheap Shakespeare editions that I came across this and groaned a little, as the one decent annotated copy is the sort that’s annotated for clever people with an interest in meandering and complicated literary authentication procedures, as opposed to people like me who just want to read it as a bit of a romp. How will I know what all the big words mean? There is very little written on this play – no cheat sheets! – so this was a bit challenging.
As we start, Edward III, King of England,
is told by a French defector that he is (by virtue of various begats and
marriages and convoluted rules about succession) the rightful ruler of France.
It’s mine! he says, let's take it! although then a French envoy arrives to say ‘nope it's not –
you have forty days to sharpen up and present yourself in France to acknowledge
King John as the One True King’. Nyah nyah, says one to the other,
prepare for war and an ongoing dramatic continuation of the France v England
grudge match that drives so many of the history plays. This also establishes
that Edward is a) a hot head, and also b) incredibly hot-headed. Plus, he has a
temper and is a bit reckless. And hot-headed.
Meanwhile! King David of Scotland and his
countrymen, who are portrayed as a looseknit faction of booze-guzzling Cletus
the slack-jawed yokels, are running raids and skirmishes along the border. (One theory for the dearth of performances of this play is that this offensive representation of the Scots was deemed highly un-politic in the Jacobean era.) Poor
old Edward needs to fight wars on multiple fronts, so he hies himself north to
Roxborough, where the Countess of Salisbury is holed up inside her castle. The
scenes between the two of them are the best in the play.
Here are some things about the Countess.
Firstly, she is awesome: clever, brave, strong, articulate and resilient.
Secondly, she is a stone cold fox. Edward arrives, takes one look at her, and
does his best Tex Avery cartoon impression: tongue on the floor, eyes popping
out of his head, aaaaooogah noises, spinning around on the spot with steam
coming out of his ears. ‘Screw fighting the Scots’, he says, ‘point me in her
direction’.
After he is invited in – who turns away the King, let alone the King that just helped to scare away your attackers? – the Countess is gracious and acts appropriately and asks him to stay. The King (reckless, hot-headed) starts thinking with his man bits, acts totally inappropriately, completely discounts the existence of his wife and asks one of his baffled men to help him write the Countess some love letters.
She says, is everything okay with your lodgings?
He says, EVERYTHING IS SO OKAY.
She says, hrm, alright, is there anything I can get for you?He says, THERE SURE IS!
She says, oh okay like what?
He makes googly eyes.
She says, wut?
He says, actually, I am a bit discontent to be completely honest
She says, let me fix that the best I can, because I am a gracious host!
He says, BE MY SECRET LOVER
She says, I can get you some better sheets, or maybe something nice to eat, and I would do anything for love but I won't do that
He says, but I am your king!
She says, yes but even still, I cannot give you what is not yours to have because YOU ARE MARRIED AND FYI SO AM I
He says, excuses, schmexcuses, and anyway, I just talked to your dad and he said it was totally okay
The Earl of Warwick says, it's true, I totally did, although there was a pretty heavy element of blackmail involved
She says, please, can you stop you really need to stop putting me in this situation, even the Scots were better than this
Edward's son Ned the Black Prince arrives, and his son's likeness to his wife cools his jets / pants momentarily, until the Countess returns and any circumspection flies out the window.
She says, great you're still here
She says, please, can you stop you really need to stop putting me in this situation, even the Scots were better than this
Edward's son Ned the Black Prince arrives, and his son's likeness to his wife cools his jets / pants momentarily, until the Countess returns and any circumspection flies out the window.
She says, great you're still here
He says, GO ON DAHLING, GIVE US A KISS GOOO OOOOOOON
She says, fine, all you have to do is kill everyone who stands in our way - your wife, my husband, and my poor dad
He says, done!
She says, fine, all you have to do is kill everyone who stands in our way - your wife, my husband, and my poor dad
He says, done!
She says, what the hell is wrong with you, look, I will LITERALLY kill myself with this here knife if you don't back off
... and he finally backs off, with much muttering about how much trouble women / suicide pacts are. No rose ceremony for you, Edward. I wouldn't be surprised if he then went and picked up a copy of The Game.
... and he finally backs off, with much muttering about how much trouble women / suicide pacts are. No rose ceremony for you, Edward. I wouldn't be surprised if he then went and picked up a copy of The Game.
I've read a few interpretations of these
scenes that suggest that this is a 'right person, wrong time' love story for the ages that is writ in sighs and
glances, and that the honourable Countess is tragically bound by duty to keep turning down the persistent, love-lorn King. Reading this as a lady person – who, like many other lady persons,
has received unwanted sexual attention from people in positions of power or
dominance – I feel quite differently about it. It’s a great character-driven dramatic sequence, though, and it features some lovely language, and I’d
love to see it played out in the Shakespeare Festival or similar.
Then, oh boy, there is a bunch of fighting and warring and diplomacying and prisoner taking for a few acts. Ho hum. Prince Edward, Ned the Black Prince, acts as a pretty good precursor for the valiant Prince Hal in later plays. I am not ashamed to admit that I found a lot of this to be pretty boring, I think because I can rarely be bothered keeping track of all the redshirt lords.
Things pick up near the end when, during yet another battle between the English and the French, the sky turns black with flocks of (supernaturally disposed?) ravens - an unkindness of ravens, Google tells me. The French, who are cowards, get freaked out by this and the Black Prince manages to lead the English to an heroic underdog-ish victory, but as far as I am concerned the corvid is the winner on the day.
Verdict: I like ravens. I like the Countess. I quite like some of the imagery, especially the descriptions of battles. I am not overly interested in the finer points of literary authentication or extended scenes of diplomacy and political wrangling and hostages and war that have little to do with character and lots to do with pleasing a late 16th / early 17th century crowd who wanted to see something that confrmed, in their heart of hearts, that the French were rubbish.
Verdict: I like ravens. I like the Countess. I quite like some of the imagery, especially the descriptions of battles. I am not overly interested in the finer points of literary authentication or extended scenes of diplomacy and political wrangling and hostages and war that have little to do with character and lots to do with pleasing a late 16th / early 17th century crowd who wanted to see something that confrmed, in their heart of hearts, that the French were rubbish.
