Well, I (finally) finished Henry VI Part 2. It took forever, not because of the play itself, but a stomach bug played havoc at my house. Gentle reader, it was bad. On to more pleasant matters…like treason, betrayal, and rebellion.
laminated miniature; Poems and Romances (Shrewsbury book), illuminated by the MASTER OF JOHN TALBOT
First, there are a LOT of characters to keep track of in this play. I thought I might need a spreadsheet. Second, this is Part 2 of the Henry VI set of plays. Why was it written before Part 1? I used my ‘phone a friend’, and my favorite theory of the ones he shared is…a cash grab. Part 2 and Part 3 were doing well, so Shakespeare wrote a prequel. I haven’t read Part 1 yet, but I do hope it’s better than Episodes I–III of a certain franchise that shall remain nameless. Third, historian me cringed every time Henry VI listened to his wife, Margaret of Anjou, and her lover (in the play; to my knowledge, there’s no actual proof of an affair), the duke of Suffolk, about Humphrey, duke of Gloucester. I wanted to shake the king because I knew what would happen once Gloucester was out of the picture. Fourth, the duke of York in this play struck me as whiny, crafty, and very concerned with his own dignity and (imagined) slights.
Despite the creative license, the play captures the intriguing at court. The shifting loyalties, the uncertainty of allies, the rapid change of fortune…all of that is well done. I do imagine it’s easier to follow on stage when the viewer has faces to go with the parts-if I was doing the costumes, I’d probably include a visual cue, too, maybe through the use of color. I did sometimes have to go back and remind myself who belonged in which camp. The play also presents a clear juxtaposition between Henry and Margaret. He is almost saintly and other-worldly, and he’s definitely too trusting; she cares about her position and privilege and is both ambitious and willing to countenance murder to achieve her ambitions. Given what historian me knows about the Wars of the Roses, she’s going to need that strength of purpose and will.
Added to the courtly intrigue there is York’s use of Jack Cade to incite a rising in Kent, thus creating an excuse for York to return from Ireland with an armed host. While I make no claim to be an expert on Cade’s actions in 1450, I know enough about the Peasant’s Rebellion of 1381 to recognize Cade and his men echoing the complaints of that earlier rebellion, specifically the attacks on those who could read and write. The thing is, Cade’s rebellion is one of the first in which the rebels used writing. (Side note: Stephen Justice’s excellent book, Writing and Rebellion, makes some fascinating arguments about the role of writing in the 1381 rebellion.)
It’s between Cade’s death (he gets caught sneaking herbs from a garden–done in by hunger, as he bemoans before his death) and York’s arrival that the king has his best line of the play: “Thus stands my state, ‘twixt Cade and York distress’d / Like to a ship that, having scap’d a tempest / Is straightway [calm’d] and boarded with a pirate.” (King, Henry VI pt 2, IV.9) Just so.
The play ends with York making his claim to the throne, a stage littered with bodies, and the king and queen fleeing back to London. En avant to Part 3.
Not watching this movie earlier is one of my big regrets for 2022, but for the first film I watched in 2023, it’s set a high bar for fun and squeezing in as many romance tropes as possible. It was like Oprah: a trope for you, and a trope for you, and a trope for you…
only 1 bed
enemies to lovers
omni-competent romantic suspense hero–who is not the actual hero
forced proximity
co-workers (of sorts)
a road trip, albeit through the jungle with leeches
and more…
It also tackles the writing life and the romance genre with humor but never condescension. From the homage to the Fabio covers of the 1980s complete with wind machines and Loretta (Sandra Bullock) ducking her agent Beth (Da’Vine Joy Randolph) while drinking Chardonnay in the bathtub to the witty banter, it’s just a fun movie. And the sequined jumpsuit. And the Romancing the Stone vibes. And Daniel Radcliffe as the villain. And the social media assistant–although I really identified with some of Loretta’s expressions because I still use a flip phone and also didn’t understand what Allison (Patti Harrison) was saying. Then there was omni-competent Jack Trainer (Brad Pitt). The sheer fun and over-the-top rescue…I laughed so much.
More seriously, though, it was delightful to watch the relationship between our romance novelist Loretta and her cover model Alan (Tatum Channing) develop. I loved that it’s Alan who defies Loretta’s assumptions about him and provides the best line about not being ashamed of something that brings people pleasure and basically tells Loretta ‘how dare you insult your readers by calling what you write “schlock”‘. I also enjoyed Loretta’s arc from grief to risking her heart again, and as a former academic, of course she had to take the manuscript fragment and find out where the clues led.
Anyway. I’ll be watching this again, and I recommend it.
And remember the excellent advice for writing romance: “Can’t come out of the gate with the Throb.”–Loretta Chase, The Lost City
One play read and many more to go on my quest to become a Shakespeare completist. I finished The Taming of the Shrew yesterday afternoon, and here are my thoughts.
First, I am NOT a Shakespeare scholar or theatre or film professional of any kind. I’m a historian and my speciality is the Hundred Years War, so when I get to Henry IV and Henry V…I’ll definitely have something to say about the historical events, but that’s not my focus. Second, I’m not going to summarize the plot; there are so many websites that have summaries; you don’t need me. For the most part, these are just my thoughts and reactions as a reader and writer.
Here we go…
This was a re-read for me, and it was good to start with some familiar ground. I also played Bianca back in the day (like way back in the day). I can’t say I like her any better now. She’s a brat and a bad sister (more on that below).
The Shrew Katherina by Edward Robert Hughs, 1898. (Public domain)
Katherine is easily my favorite character. She’s witty–the banter between her and Petruchio when they first meet is so great (II.1 has really fun word play, minus the part where he threatens to hit her if she strikes him again) and seems like the only character who is honest about who they are. Bianca’s got a lovely facade, but underneath she’s spoiled and self-centered. Her suitors actively seek to deceive her father; Lucentio even pulls some poor, unsuspecting pedant in to pretend to be his father. Naturally, the REAL Vincentio shows up. While we see Katherine fight with her sister (II.1) and break a lute over Hortensio’s head (off stage), what we see is a woman who verbally gives as good as she gets, who doesn’t hide her intelligence, and who respects herself enough not to marry just anyone. Anyway, I spent most of the play angry on Katherine’s behalf because no one cares about her well-being and they all conspire to take away her choices–looking at you, Bianca’s suitors. They all want to give Bianca the opportunity to choose for herself, but not one of them acts like they think Katherine deserves choices.
Baptista, Katherine and Bianca’s father, doesn’t truly see Katherine or understand that she has feelings or notices his favoritism. He seems to care only about Bianca’s happiness and is willing to marry Katherine off to anyone with no regard for her safety, never mind her feelings or happiness (he’s not the only one). Seriously, does he feel no qualms when Petruchio shows up late to church and kitted out in a way designed to humiliate her? Granted, he does admit she has cause to be upset “For such injury would vex a very saint,” but then he adds “much more a shrew of [thy] impatient humor” (III.2) It’s just so casually cruel. He also does tell Petruchio to dress better but seems more concerned about how his clothes reflect his estate. We don’t see the wedding itself, but Gremio is shocked by Petruchio’s behavior, and Gremio is no fan of Katherine’s. What did Baptista think when Petruchio struck the priest and threw sops in the sexton’s face? Or when his daughter “trembled and shook” (III.2) as Petruchio raged at the priest and sexton? Baptista and the others make little more than a token effort to get them to stay for the wedding feast, but after Petruchio drags her away–while threatening them with swords–they give a collective shrug and go to the feast in good humor. Gremio basically says it’s good they left as quickly as they did because he “should die with laughing” (III.2). No one cares about how Petruchio might treat her, even though he’s shown violent and abusive behavior.
Where is Bianca in all this? Well…this is one of the main reasons I think she’s a bad sister. Given what happened at Katherine’s wedding and how Petruchio drags her away and despite Katherine’s clear unhappiness and trepidation, Bianca’s response is blithely unconcerned. She’ll sit in her sister’s chair at the feast and take her sister’s room, apparently with no qualms. When asked what she thinks about her sister’s situation? “That being mad herself, she’s madly mated” (III.2).
As for Petruchio…he’s abusive. He denies Katherine food, denies her sleep, acts unpredictably, destroys her things, and does the ‘if you hadn’t done X, I wouldn’t have had to do Y’ thing when it’s time to go to her sister’s wedding. He strikes his servants and verbally abuses them. He clearly takes no care of her on the journey to his home. “…her horse fell, / and she under the horse; thou shouldst have heard / in how miry a place, how she was bemoiled, how he / left her with the horse upon her, how he beat me / because her horse stumbled, how she waded / through dirt to pluck him off me, how he swore…” (IV.1). Truly a prince among men. The worst is, though, that’s it’s all deliberate and calculated to bend her to his will. He baldly states he plans to use lack of food and sleep deprivation and “[T]hat all is done in reverend care of her” (IV.1). All this is condoned and admired; Hortensio, one of Bianca’s former suitors, visits Petruchio basically to get tips, although Hortensio does seem a little uncomfortable at times during the scene with the tailor and the haberdasher. Yet his advice to Katherine is to placate Petruchio: “Say as he says, or we shall never go” (IV.5).
And she does. In the play, this is portrayed as Petruchio’s victory. He’s tamed the shrew and now has the most obedient wife. He wins the wager. What about Katherine, though? What about her? If she was a heroine a romance, this would be her first marriage, which teaches her to be afraid, to close herself off, to make herself small. The way Petruchio treats her? When she finally reveals that to the hero, it enrages him on her behalf. How dare that first husband make her small? How dare he treat her with so little regard to her health, safety, and feelings? If this was a romance, Petruchio would have wooed her (you could still keep the hasty marriage and have the wooing take place after the vows), respected her, and built her up. He could still have set boundaries and insisted on her treating him with respect, too, and he would have known that true respect in a relationship isn’t about her agreeing with him all the time.
This play isn’t a romance, and obviously the context in which Shakespeare wrote it (1580–1590 per The Royal Shakespeare Company’s chronology) is very different from 2023. I make no claim to know whether Shakespeare meant this seriously or as a cautionary tale, its origins, or how it paralleled ideas about gender and marriage in the 1580s and 1590s–I would LOVE to know what Elizabeth I thought of this one. I’m looking forward to watching some adaptations, especially the RSC’s gender-swapped one from 2019, to see how the directors and actors tackle this question.
It’s been a goal of mine to be a Shakespeare ‘completist’ for some time, and this, gentle reader, is the year I’m going to do it. You are cordially invited to join in, follow along, comment on your favorite plays, share your favorite adaptations, etc.
I’m starting with The Taming of the Shrew, and I’ll be following the Royal Shakespeare Company’s chronology. One has to go in some order, and chronologically fits well with my historian’s brain.
The Taming of the Shrew will be familiar ground–read it, acted in it (Bianca), and seen the Elizabeth Taylor film adaptation. I’m curious to see what I think of it this time around.
I recently saw Butterfield 8 (1960)–TCM is a godsend for someone with a newborn–and, while I enjoyed it, there were times where I felt distinctly uncomfortable. These times all involved the on-screen judging of Gloria (Elizabeth Taylor). There are two scenes in particular that really stood out to me, the first because I was judging, too, and the second because the woman watching with me condoned Liggett’s (Laurence Harvey) bad behavior and blamed Gloria for it–just like Liggett did.
So, the first scene. Norma (Susan Oliver), who is the ‘good girl’ to Gloria’s femme fatale, lectures her boyfriend, Steve (Eddie Fisher), about Gloria and her lifestyle. Basically, she asks him if he’s okay with Gloria parading her string of lovers and hangovers in front of their future children. Talk about judging. I was uncomfortable because I found myself agreeing with Norma to some extent. I wouldn’t want my kids looking to Gloria as a role model, and here’s why. While I have no problem with women drinking alcohol or getting drunk once in a while, Gloria is drunk a lot–like binge drinking, early alcoholism a lot. That’s not the responsible approach to drinking I want to teach my kids.
As for the lovers…I firmly believe women should enjoy sex, and that women can have multiple partners over the course of a lifetime. My problem with Gloria is the way she treats her lovers. She doesn’t care about them as people; she uses them. Not only does she not care if she hurts them, but she seems almost to relish it. That is not the attitude I want my kids to have about other people and intimate relationships. Moreover, she’s having an affair with a married man–and, oh, yes, I’m judging him, too.
Liggett’s not a nice guy: He’s a cheater and an abuser. On more than one occasion he grasps and squeezes Gloria’s wrist hard enough to leave bruises. At one point, he is drunk and verbally abusive to her, shouting and calling her a whore. She understandably has (finally) had enough of his bad behavior, packs up her suitcase and heads to Boston the next day. He catches up to her, says he’s sorry–but she drove him to it–and proposes. That’s right, less than twenty-four hours after verbally and physically abusing her, slut-shaming her and blaming her (and her past) for his bad behavior, he proposes.
Gloria says no, and I’m with her. Unequivocally. The person watching the movie with me? Not so much. ‘He really loves her. She needs to understand he was drunk and hurting, and that’s why he said those things. She needs to forgive him and get married.’ Excuse me? No. It was distinctly uncomfortable to realize that ‘J’ saw nothing wrong with that position. Maybe it’s because ‘J’ is thirty years older than I am, but it was another reminder that Norma’s judgement of Gloria is alive and well.
As for the end of the film? Gloria dies in a blazing car accident at the end of a high speed chase. To be clear, it’s not the police chasing her. It’s Liggett, who won’t accept her refusal. He ends the film by telling his wife he needs to find his pride. That’s what he needs to find? And good-girl Norma? It looks like she’ll get her HEA.
Moral of the story: “Good girls” get the man; “good” wives accept and excuse their husband’s peccadilloes, and women who own their sexuality die in a fiery blaze.
Who brings a sword and a lasso to World War I? Wonder Woman
Back in June I had the privilege of going to a movie–in a real movie theater. That, in and of itself, is noteworthy since I live more than an hour from the nearest movie theater. What did I see? Wonder Woman.
Here’s my review.
There is a lot to love about this film.
First, the protagonist is a woman with a sword and superpowers. Need I say more?
Second, it’s not a romance in the modern genre sense. There is no HEA. And I’m okay with that. For one thing, it would have been the easy choice. Some other character could have suddenly revealed his/her knowledge of how to fly a plane. It wouldn’t be the first time. The other reason I’m glad that didn’t happen is that it highlighted one of the things I enjoyed about the film: Diana is not the only hero. Sure, she’s a goddess and a superhero, but the other characters–Steve, Sameer, Chief, Charlie–are also heroic and risk themselves for others. This is true not only of the men who accompany Diana but also of the Amazons. For example, Antiope doesn’t even blink before throwing herself in front of the blow meant for Diana.
Third, the costuming is fantastic. Aside from the fact that I love the clothing from this period–I covet Diana’s grey suit–the costume designers did a wonderful job with the armor. And how happy am I that Diana had armor instead of star-spangled silk knickers? The armor is functional. It doesn’t obscure her figure but it doesn’t emphasize it, either. Personally speaking, I want my armor functional–sexy hits way down the list. I also wouldn’t be fighting in heels, but then I’m not a goddess and know my limitations.
Fourth, and maybe this should be first, I liked the film because of its compassion. This wasn’t about a fight between gods, or not just about that. Obviously, Diana and Ares fight. But ultimately it’s not really about which one of them is better/tougher/stronger. It’s about the stakes. Diana’s not fighting to prove she’s the best. She’s fighting for the innocent villagers; she’s fighting for her comrades in arms; she’s fighting for all the soldiers–even the Germans–caught up in the war. This is why she inspires others to follow her. The film also doesn’t shy away from showing us the stakes. We see clearly the consequences of the conflict between gods and superheroes. All too often superhero movies obscure the civilians caught up in such battles.
Fifth, no one ‘saves’ Diana. She has help but at no time is she waiting for someone to rescue her. She makes her choices and owns them.
There are a couple things I didn’t like. Why did Dr. Maru have to be disfigured? I didn’t catch any backstory that explained it, and I’m not familiar with the comic book so I have no a priori knowledge. It’s an annoying visual shorthand. And was she really so flattered by a man flirting with her that she almost forgets her purpose and loyalty? Steve is handsome and charming, but Dr. Maru seems to be made of sterner stuff and unlikely to fall easily for handsome and charming–even if he does flatter her work. She’s smarter than that, yet for a moment she’s falling for it. Until his attention wavers and turns her into a woman scorned, and the audience is left with the impression that Steve would have solved everything if Diana hadn’t interrupted the flirtation. I also didn’t like that the German high command didn’t resemble their historical counterparts, but that’s a minor irritation considering I’m okay with the (major) departures from historical fact.
All in all, a great film. I can’t wait to add it to my collection.
One Night with the King: The romanticizing of Esther
Note: This is not meant to denigrate or criticize anyone’s faith. These are simply my observations on the film and the way it romanticizes the story of Esther.
So. The other night I re-watched One Night with the King (2006). I was struck, as I always am, by the gorgeous costumes and the spectacular setting. I was also struck, as I always am, by how much the film romanticizes the story of Esther and Ahasuerus. To be sure, there is a romantic relationship in the film, and I see the hints of one when I read the original text, but I don’t think it’s a romance in the modern genre sense.
The film certainly plays like one: from the meet-cute where Esther reads scrolls and tells stories, through the black moment when the king thinks she’s betrayed him, to the resolution when he extends the scepter and later pulls Haman off of her. The film’s sub-plot–Haman’s hatred of the Jews and his personal vendetta against Mordecai–is also resolved. This romanticizes the biblical story in which the threat against and eventual salvation of the Jews through Esther is the central plot, not the (possible) romantic relationship between her and the king. I get that it’s a film, and I can deal with that.
What really bothers me, though, is how the romanticizing in the film conceals the underlying ugliness of the story. By this I mean not only Haman’s plot to eradicate the Jews but also the treatment of women. This begins with the removal of Vashti, a queen conscious of her own worth who refuses to be demeaned and is, therefore, summarily dismissed and silenced. Then there is the kidnapping of the young women and their subsequent imprisonment in the palace. It’s a lovely cage to be sure, but even with the fabulous looking food and amazing fabrics and luxurious pampering, it’s still a cage. Let’s also remember the young men who are kidnapped, castrated, and forced to serve the young women vying for the king’s favor.
Moreover, the film glosses over the implied sexual encounters between the young women and the king and the lack of consent. At the very least, consent is blurred. At worst, we’re witnessing rapes. Given the power dynamic, can these young women really refuse? Not all of them could have been willing. One is so terrified in the film that she vomits on the king’s shoes.
Added to that, I just can’t like the king. At best, he succumbs to peer pressure when he orders his wife, Queen Vashti, to display herself before his drunk war council, which is planning a war of which she disapproves. A war, I’ll point out, that Esther isn’t in favor of, either. No matter how much the romance is emphasized, Vashti’s fate is always in Esther’s mind. She says as much. The power divide between them is palpable. He literally has the power of life and death over her. They are not equals. Given that, I admire her courage, her tenacity, her faith.
It’s entirely possible Esther and Ahasuerus loved each other. I hope they did. But I still don’t think the story is a romance. It’s a disturbing story about gender, (planned) genocide, sexual violence, and an unequal marriage, and no amount of romanticizing can fully hide that.
Flipping through channels tonight, I came across an old favorite on TCM: Seven Brides for Seven Brothers. I loved this film growing up and watched it many times with my sisters. We fought over who was going to be which bride, copied the dancing in the “June Bride” sequence, and sang along with the film–while shouting at each other to “stop singing.”
I still love this film. Part of that is, of course, the nostalgia. A larger part is that as a romance reader and writer, this film hits the tropes. There’s a love-at-first-sight (Millie herself says she falls in love with Adam the first time she saw him) and whirlwind wedding plot, an abduction-to-HEA plot, a shotgun wedding, a hero who learns about love, a heroine with a core of steel, a brotherhood, and a baby.
More than that, I love the romance at the heart of the film. I’m not talking about the kidnapping of the other brides and their subsequent falling in love with their kidnappers. I’m talking about the relationship that develops between Millie and Adam. They don’t know each other when they marry. She doesn’t even know he has six brothers who all live at home, and he has no idea that her spine is pure steel.
They both bend–witness Adam’s cleaned-up presence at the barn-raising and Millie’s adapting to live in a house full of unrefined men. There are setbacks. Millie overhears Adam tell Gideon (the youngest brother) that “one woman is pretty much like the next,” and the hurt is clear. The moment when he approaches her, “Now, Millie,” after the kidnapping heralds the start of the black moment. He runs from her, from love. She could let him off the hook but holds firm. She loves him but isn’t willing to settle for less from him. She doesn’t even send for him when their daughter is born. Then the resolution. His declaration is fabulous. Not only does Adam admit he loves Millie, but he also recognizes how wrong his actions and attitudes were. It’s great character growth and a lovely romance plot and why I still love the film.
Plus, you know, dancing, singing, period costumes, sleighs, and a barn-raising. What’s not to love?
