We really saw some wonderful presentations on "My Fair Lady" today. I would like to focus particularly on the remake which involved Eliza becoming a New York stripper. What I loved about the concept is that it creatively put the terms of the play in a setting that many Americans understand (or think they understand). However, I am really wrestling with the idea of Eliza Doolittle as a stripper or even a sex worker. I think this concept is riddled with pitfalls and may only serve to make Liza's character little more than a prostitute archetype. That being said I wonder if in the original version of "Pygmalion" and later "My Fair Lady" there is a concept of Eliza selling herself and selling out in order to elevate her status.
In Act II of "Pygmalion" and Act I Scene 3 of "My Fair Lady" Eliza tolerates an onslaught of insults and name calling from Higgins. For example Higgins says in both plays,"Pickering, shall we ask this baggage to sit down, or shall we throw her out the window." Thankfully Eliza retorts "I won't be called baggage when I offer to pay like any lady!" Eliza definitely stands up to Higgins when his insults become unbearable, but she decides to subject herself to his abrasive nature. She endures much of the unprovoked antics of Higgins because in the end she has an agenda of using his knowledge to help herself. However in her effort to improve herself is Eliza compromising too much of herself and thus becoming a prostitue archetype?
Honestly I would say at most Eliza Doolittle is a mini prostitute archetype. The screenwriters of "Pretty Woman" decided to distort the "Eliza Doolittle " figure into a mega prostitute archetype. She literally is a street walker. Besides occupational differences the main distinction between "Pygmalion" and "Pretty Woman is within the context of the relationships between the male and female characters. In "Pretty Woman" ,especially at the end, Julia Robert's character agrees to be rescued by Richard Gere's character. There is a feeling that the this character's only option was to be a street walker or the wife (or girlfriend) of her john. The dynamics of the male female relationships reduces the film to a "patriarchal mode of fantasizing woman'...." (Bernheimer, 220). "Pygmalion" and "My Fair Lady" don't have the dynamic of Higgins rescuing a whore but rather of Higgins demanding that his creation stay in her place. What makes Shaw's work more interesting is that there is the hint that Eliza having gotten what she needed from Higgins is now capable to go out on her own and create her own life.
There are different examples in the "Pygmalion" where it appears that Eliza puts up with too much from Higgins. However, what keeps Eliza from being pigeon holed to a prostitute archetype is that in the end she does have a sense of who she is and how to make it work for her. She even proposes to Higgins that she may use his trade secrets to gain employment with his rival. Basically there are several moments in Pygmalion where Eliza appears to have levels of self actualization. If we remake Eliza into a stripper or any other over sexualized character it minimizes the nuances of her development in the play.
Monday, October 5, 2009
Sunday, October 4, 2009
If only I had a better title for This
I feel like there is an assumption being made that Higgins and Eliza made the most logical decision, therefore they are happy with their decision, and I don't see that. Also, I don't give anyone the credit of being completely logical in a moment of both intense emotion, and confusion, so I think if Higgins could conjure up anyway to tell Eliza to stay, he would of, but that was not the case. In my opinion, their final decision was not based on anything more than the fact that Higgin's couldn't of asked her to stay even if he wanted to. What I'm trying to get across is the concept that, though it was impossible for the two of them to be together, I feel both of them might never get over the fact that it didn't happen.
All this derives from Higgin's fascination with Eliza. Though argument can be made of what exactly his intentions are, Eliza is an attractive girl that is unlike any Higgin's has ever encountered, and for that reason he cannot put his finger on the finite reason Eliza astounds him. To me it has something to do with the fact of her wit and confidence, regardless of her lower class. Higgins created all of her that appeared prestigous, and high in social class, but he couldn't alter her persona in it's truest form. This made her a mysterious uncomprehendable toy almost to Higgins.
Eliza goes through a similar problem, except her dilemna is much less a controlled choice. Eliza wants Higgins to just cave in and say he wants her. That's why she puts up with all of his slanderous insaults, and disregard of her accomplishments.
In conclusion, I think both of the characters left the situation disatisfied but not surprised, but due to the unforgetable nature of their encounters together. I don't think they'll forget about each other anytime soon, though I also highly doubt they could of ever been together.
All this derives from Higgin's fascination with Eliza. Though argument can be made of what exactly his intentions are, Eliza is an attractive girl that is unlike any Higgin's has ever encountered, and for that reason he cannot put his finger on the finite reason Eliza astounds him. To me it has something to do with the fact of her wit and confidence, regardless of her lower class. Higgins created all of her that appeared prestigous, and high in social class, but he couldn't alter her persona in it's truest form. This made her a mysterious uncomprehendable toy almost to Higgins.
Eliza goes through a similar problem, except her dilemna is much less a controlled choice. Eliza wants Higgins to just cave in and say he wants her. That's why she puts up with all of his slanderous insaults, and disregard of her accomplishments.
In conclusion, I think both of the characters left the situation disatisfied but not surprised, but due to the unforgetable nature of their encounters together. I don't think they'll forget about each other anytime soon, though I also highly doubt they could of ever been together.
Sunday, September 27, 2009
Happily Ever After Doesn’t Have to Mean Romantically Ever After
The first time that I read Pygmalion, I was one of those people that Jackie mentions at the beginning of her blog. With my introduction to Shaw’s work being My Fair Lady, I was unable to accept any other conclusion than a romantic one. As I prepared to re-read Pygmalion, my feelings were much the same. When I finished, however, I was pleasantly surprised. Not only did I not hate the ending of the play but I rather enjoyed it. I thought it was the perfect ending for Pygmalion. More importantly, I didn’t see it at all as an unhappy ending. Although Jackie does perfectly illustrate why a happy ending isn’t possible if it’s a romantic ending, I wanted to take a look at the ending from a slightly different approach: from the relationships not as we wish them to be (or know they can never be) but rather exactly as they are.
In the “sequel,” Eliza and Freddy marry; the two of them open a shop together; and Eliza frequently visits Higgins and Pickering. Now tell me, what’s so bad about that? No where does it say that Freddy stayed at home all day, ate bonbons, grew corpulent to the point that he couldn’t leave the house, and forced Eliza to work until she was exhausted so that he could stay living in the manner to which he was accustomed. It of course doesn’t. Was he a little bit special when it came to living in the real world? Sure, but he loved Eliza and worked hard and, really . . . who doesn’t have their flaws?
Where once this ending didn’t seem happy because Higgins did not sweep Eliza off her feet, now the ending seems happy because Eliza has a man to adore her (Freddy), a man to treat her as a lady (Pickering), and a man to debate and argue with (Higgins). And if perhaps it would be more ideal if these different facets were found in one man, the fact that Eliza has people in her life who can fulfill all her needs leads me to just one thought . . . should all girls/guys be so lucky.
Shaw is not then limiting the life of Eliza by not allowing her and Higgins to get together but rather he is promising her the best life possible. This is, I believe, the conclusion that both Higgins and Eliza come to at the end of the play and it is a conclusion that is, in many ways, unprecedented for realist theater. Whereas Ibsen’s final door-closing in “A Doll’s House” promises much sadness and bitterness, Eliza’s storming out promises a rare chance to have her cake and eat it too, to have sweet love, respectful love, and hard love.
My script version doesn’t end with Higgins laughing about Eliza marrying Freddy but instead with Higgins comfortable in the knowledge that Eliza will run his errands. Regardless of the one used, however, I feel that the final scenes can not be delivered in malice on Higgins’ part (something Conrad doesn’t believe is ever possible) or true disgust on the part of Eliza. Rather, the actors should convey the feeling that their characters are happily playing parts, Higgins’ being that of the insufferable and Eliza that of the overburdened. Thus, perhaps, Higgins could hand Eliza her coat as he mocks her; Eliza could stick out her tongue and then smile as she swoops off the stage. There should be that sense that if the scene were to last just a few more minutes, Higgins would say “same time tomorrow?” followed by Eliza’s reply that she’d be by after her and Freddy’s wedding to check up on him and Pickering. If well-done, I believe that the actors can make even the most romantically-inclined audience member feel that the kiss-free ending of Pygmalion is not only a realistic one but happy as well.
In the “sequel,” Eliza and Freddy marry; the two of them open a shop together; and Eliza frequently visits Higgins and Pickering. Now tell me, what’s so bad about that? No where does it say that Freddy stayed at home all day, ate bonbons, grew corpulent to the point that he couldn’t leave the house, and forced Eliza to work until she was exhausted so that he could stay living in the manner to which he was accustomed. It of course doesn’t. Was he a little bit special when it came to living in the real world? Sure, but he loved Eliza and worked hard and, really . . . who doesn’t have their flaws?
Where once this ending didn’t seem happy because Higgins did not sweep Eliza off her feet, now the ending seems happy because Eliza has a man to adore her (Freddy), a man to treat her as a lady (Pickering), and a man to debate and argue with (Higgins). And if perhaps it would be more ideal if these different facets were found in one man, the fact that Eliza has people in her life who can fulfill all her needs leads me to just one thought . . . should all girls/guys be so lucky.
Shaw is not then limiting the life of Eliza by not allowing her and Higgins to get together but rather he is promising her the best life possible. This is, I believe, the conclusion that both Higgins and Eliza come to at the end of the play and it is a conclusion that is, in many ways, unprecedented for realist theater. Whereas Ibsen’s final door-closing in “A Doll’s House” promises much sadness and bitterness, Eliza’s storming out promises a rare chance to have her cake and eat it too, to have sweet love, respectful love, and hard love.
My script version doesn’t end with Higgins laughing about Eliza marrying Freddy but instead with Higgins comfortable in the knowledge that Eliza will run his errands. Regardless of the one used, however, I feel that the final scenes can not be delivered in malice on Higgins’ part (something Conrad doesn’t believe is ever possible) or true disgust on the part of Eliza. Rather, the actors should convey the feeling that their characters are happily playing parts, Higgins’ being that of the insufferable and Eliza that of the overburdened. Thus, perhaps, Higgins could hand Eliza her coat as he mocks her; Eliza could stick out her tongue and then smile as she swoops off the stage. There should be that sense that if the scene were to last just a few more minutes, Higgins would say “same time tomorrow?” followed by Eliza’s reply that she’d be by after her and Freddy’s wedding to check up on him and Pickering. If well-done, I believe that the actors can make even the most romantically-inclined audience member feel that the kiss-free ending of Pygmalion is not only a realistic one but happy as well.
Saturday, September 26, 2009
What you want, you don't always NEED!!!!
I heard many people say...I didn't like the ending. I wanted them to get together. My brain quickly responds who and why???? If the two involves Eliza and Higgins, well lets just staple the divorce papers along with the marriage license before they leave the ceremony. Shaw gives concise, clear examples of why this union would never work. He provides a descriptive masterpiece and illustrates the title of this blog. Besides the obvious conflict of class, lets take a deeper look into the pyschology of these two individuals. I don't see Eliza as a dumb, flower girl. I am aware of her circumstances but for her to be bold enough to come to Higgins house with the proposal, it shows her fire, passion and determination to do better for herself. She was used to hustling to survive. She is a woman and naturally we are wired to be more sensitive to our feelings. I point this out to justify her vunerability and soft skin around Pickering and Higgins. Lets process Higgins....headstrong, intelligent, crass, direct and wise. Of course, he could talk to her more delicately and kind. However, shaw brilliantly gives you an insight on his perception of people when he stated "The great secret Eliza , is not having bad manners or good manners, but having all manners for all human souls. In short, behave as if you were in heaven, where there are no third-class carriages and one soul is as good as another. The question is not whether I treat you rudely, but whether you ever heard me treat anyone else better." This statement was profound to me. In that line you were able to look right into Higgins soul. He's not a bad man, he revels in his own truth and does not bend on his paradigms of the world. Do they care about each other, yes! Would they have taken care of each other, yes! Would he ever have become as gentle and warm as Eliza needs him to be for her emotional stability..Probally not! It is what it is and they are who they are. People(especially men) dont change, unless they want to. No fairytale fluff here, straight forward reality that I can appreicate and definitely relate to.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Henry Higgins: Malicious Monster or Tough Lover
As I read through Pygmalion I found myself growing fonder and fonder of Henry Higgins. His inability to allow room for the feelings of others in his abrasive statements, in my opinion, is not founded in a desire to hurt. It is founded in an inability to be anything other than that which he is... brutally truthful and arrogant. It is also his method of finding other human beings he considers worthy of his time and friendship. He is a man that has no use for weakness of spirit, and it is through his constant belittlement of Eliza that we are actually able to see his love for her. Yes, I said love... His intention morphs over the course of the play from winning a bet to holding on to the thing he loves the most.
In Act I he challenges, not degrades, Eliza to live up to her strong English linguistic heritage. "Remember that you are a human being with a soul and the divine gift of articulate speech: that your native language is the language of Shakespear and Milton and The Bible; and dont sit there crooning like a bilious pigeon." Sure, his reference to a bilious pigeon is a little harsh, but if you look close enough he is asking Eliza (Flower Girl at this point) to acknowledge her own self worth. He is trying to bring her out of her pitiful, weak condition into self confidence and pride.
In Act II he again discloses his good heart in a moment of reassurance to Mrs. Pearce, Pickering, and Eliza, whom he has just offended with his comments. "My dear Mrs Pearce, my dear Pickering, I never had the slightest intention of walking over anyone. All I propose is that we should be kind to this poor girl. We must help her to prepare and fit herself for her new station in life. If I did not express myself clearly it was because I did not wish to hurt her delicacy, or yours." You might say that he makes these remarks simply to keep her there and get his way, but in retort I ask, why would he waste his time teaching her in the first place? If he were truly cruel, he would not only degrade her, but also send her away without training (which she came seeking from him, I might add). Even though it takes disdain from others to motivate the comment, his harshness most commonly comes from his style of humor: blunt truth. I once heard or read (can't remember which) that the true test of a person in England is their ability to give/take a good insult.
In Act V we see Higgins in his most vulnerable state. He is, in his own way, pleading with Eliza to stay on with him at his home. It's as if he wants to tell her he loves her, or even that he loves her company, but he is incapable of this... I'm not sure what personal characteristic keeps him from openly admitting to Eliza that he only has fun when she's with him (pride most likely), but he is unable to do it. In this exchange, he actually tells Eliza that she may do as she wants, just so that she might consider staying on with him. I believe it to be his most vulnerable moment of the play.
LIZA: What am I to come back for?
HIGGINS (bouncing up on his knees on the ottoman and leaning over it to her): For the fun of it. Thats why I took you on.
LIZA (with averted face): And you may throw me out tomorrow if I dont do everything you want me to.
HIGGINS: Yes; and you may walk out tomorrow if I dont do everything you want me to.
It is in the description of the way that Higgins "bounces up on his knees" that I see his love/enjoyment of Eliza. He even empowers Eliza saying that she "may leave if he doesn't do EVERYTHING she wants him to do". I feel sorry for Higgins in this scene, because he is unable to throw away his pride and arrogance and say the thing that Eliza needs to hear the most: that he loves her. If he could have done this, I truly believe that Eliza would have stayed with him. But like life, people are stubborn and sometimes unwilling to change.
Henry Higgins is one of my favorite characters in all of literature, and I do not believe that he is someone who sets out to be a malicious, verbal monster. Why would he spend so much time with common folk, documenting and recording their sounds? He is a lover of sound and of people. It is his bullying and arrogance that are put-ons, and it is his unwillingness to admit he's lonely and kind that cripple him. His roaring laughter is the last sound of the play, and I believe this laughter to be a cover for the great pain and solitude he feels.
In Act I he challenges, not degrades, Eliza to live up to her strong English linguistic heritage. "Remember that you are a human being with a soul and the divine gift of articulate speech: that your native language is the language of Shakespear and Milton and The Bible; and dont sit there crooning like a bilious pigeon." Sure, his reference to a bilious pigeon is a little harsh, but if you look close enough he is asking Eliza (Flower Girl at this point) to acknowledge her own self worth. He is trying to bring her out of her pitiful, weak condition into self confidence and pride.
In Act II he again discloses his good heart in a moment of reassurance to Mrs. Pearce, Pickering, and Eliza, whom he has just offended with his comments. "My dear Mrs Pearce, my dear Pickering, I never had the slightest intention of walking over anyone. All I propose is that we should be kind to this poor girl. We must help her to prepare and fit herself for her new station in life. If I did not express myself clearly it was because I did not wish to hurt her delicacy, or yours." You might say that he makes these remarks simply to keep her there and get his way, but in retort I ask, why would he waste his time teaching her in the first place? If he were truly cruel, he would not only degrade her, but also send her away without training (which she came seeking from him, I might add). Even though it takes disdain from others to motivate the comment, his harshness most commonly comes from his style of humor: blunt truth. I once heard or read (can't remember which) that the true test of a person in England is their ability to give/take a good insult.
In Act V we see Higgins in his most vulnerable state. He is, in his own way, pleading with Eliza to stay on with him at his home. It's as if he wants to tell her he loves her, or even that he loves her company, but he is incapable of this... I'm not sure what personal characteristic keeps him from openly admitting to Eliza that he only has fun when she's with him (pride most likely), but he is unable to do it. In this exchange, he actually tells Eliza that she may do as she wants, just so that she might consider staying on with him. I believe it to be his most vulnerable moment of the play.
LIZA: What am I to come back for?
HIGGINS (bouncing up on his knees on the ottoman and leaning over it to her): For the fun of it. Thats why I took you on.
LIZA (with averted face): And you may throw me out tomorrow if I dont do everything you want me to.
HIGGINS: Yes; and you may walk out tomorrow if I dont do everything you want me to.
It is in the description of the way that Higgins "bounces up on his knees" that I see his love/enjoyment of Eliza. He even empowers Eliza saying that she "may leave if he doesn't do EVERYTHING she wants him to do". I feel sorry for Higgins in this scene, because he is unable to throw away his pride and arrogance and say the thing that Eliza needs to hear the most: that he loves her. If he could have done this, I truly believe that Eliza would have stayed with him. But like life, people are stubborn and sometimes unwilling to change.
Henry Higgins is one of my favorite characters in all of literature, and I do not believe that he is someone who sets out to be a malicious, verbal monster. Why would he spend so much time with common folk, documenting and recording their sounds? He is a lover of sound and of people. It is his bullying and arrogance that are put-ons, and it is his unwillingness to admit he's lonely and kind that cripple him. His roaring laughter is the last sound of the play, and I believe this laughter to be a cover for the great pain and solitude he feels.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Gender Shifts in “All the World’s a Stage”
Hello my beloved readers, readers who I know can hardly await the next entry painstakingly crafted and typed until the very nubs of my fingers are worn thin. On Monday I had reached my self-imposed allotted number of times to speak aloud in class, and so I didn’t get the chance to share something interesting I found as we examined Jacques’ speech. Along the lines of John’s triumphant remark that both schoolboys and snails carry the weight of their worlds on their bitty backs, I hope that my comment will add fodder for those of you embarking on UofL’s production of “As You Like It.”
I would like to direct the attention (no pun intended) towards the end of the speech as Jacques waxes eloquent about how “[t]he sixth age shifts/Into the lean and slippered pantaloon” (2.7). What caught my attention is that use of the word “shifts.” So many words could have been chosen, from moves to swings to half a dozen other thesaurus-supplied options. Instead, however, Shakespeare chose the word “shifts” a word that as a verb indicates a change but as a noun can refer to women’s undergarments. And so, we see that not only does the old man began to suffer that frightful ailment so many of you have to look forward to (the “shrunk shank” and all that good stuff), and not only does that old man have a “childish treble” to his voice, but he is also undergoing a subtle shift in gender (2.7). This change, from a sexless infant to a virile, manly soldier to a womanly geriatric is a significant commentary for Jacques to make in a play all about gender swapping.
It seems as if Jacques here is reinforcing something that Rosalind seems to know through her drag disguise: the carefully crafted categories of man and woman, male and female, are a lot more flexible than most of us feel comfortable acknowledging. For if a man becomes womanly in his older years than it is almost as if he becomes entirely sexless . . . the male and female aspects counteracting against one another. And if this sounds a bit ridiculous, perhaps that is the point. Perhaps, just as the man “plays his part” as a justice, he is also playing his part as a man. This is not to say that men and women don’t possess certain unique common characteristics (as well as body parts) making them too distinct creatures. I’m perfectly content with God’s decision to have both male and female, and I don’t believe that’s Shakespeare’s agenda at all. After all, Rosalind willingly goes back to her female appearance at the end of the play. But perhaps, just perhaps, what Shakespeare is suggesting through the visage of Jacques (and the entire play) is that the categories created by society aren’t quite as rigid or as ‘correct’ as we believe them to be. We are who we are until we are sans everything.
I would like to direct the attention (no pun intended) towards the end of the speech as Jacques waxes eloquent about how “[t]he sixth age shifts/Into the lean and slippered pantaloon” (2.7). What caught my attention is that use of the word “shifts.” So many words could have been chosen, from moves to swings to half a dozen other thesaurus-supplied options. Instead, however, Shakespeare chose the word “shifts” a word that as a verb indicates a change but as a noun can refer to women’s undergarments. And so, we see that not only does the old man began to suffer that frightful ailment so many of you have to look forward to (the “shrunk shank” and all that good stuff), and not only does that old man have a “childish treble” to his voice, but he is also undergoing a subtle shift in gender (2.7). This change, from a sexless infant to a virile, manly soldier to a womanly geriatric is a significant commentary for Jacques to make in a play all about gender swapping.
It seems as if Jacques here is reinforcing something that Rosalind seems to know through her drag disguise: the carefully crafted categories of man and woman, male and female, are a lot more flexible than most of us feel comfortable acknowledging. For if a man becomes womanly in his older years than it is almost as if he becomes entirely sexless . . . the male and female aspects counteracting against one another. And if this sounds a bit ridiculous, perhaps that is the point. Perhaps, just as the man “plays his part” as a justice, he is also playing his part as a man. This is not to say that men and women don’t possess certain unique common characteristics (as well as body parts) making them too distinct creatures. I’m perfectly content with God’s decision to have both male and female, and I don’t believe that’s Shakespeare’s agenda at all. After all, Rosalind willingly goes back to her female appearance at the end of the play. But perhaps, just perhaps, what Shakespeare is suggesting through the visage of Jacques (and the entire play) is that the categories created by society aren’t quite as rigid or as ‘correct’ as we believe them to be. We are who we are until we are sans everything.
Monday, September 21, 2009
Is it fair...
Is it fair to still do Shakespeare?
For the longest time I struggled with Shakespeare. I had a difficult time comprehending the language and I would get stuck in the rhythm of it. I can remember reading Romeo and Juliet my freshman year of high school. I remember understanding only the major events of the play and missing important details.
My second experience with Shakespeare was my senior year of high school. I was cast as Gremio in The Taming of the Shrew. I remember feeling overwhelm in rehearsals because I knew so little about Shakespeare. I was able to fly under the radar of my director because Gremio has a clear objective that was easy for me to pursuit. It was only after I had been through two months of rehearsals that I could fully understand the details of the play.
In my undergrad, Shakespeare did not become my friend, however we came to an understanding. I learned his rules in an acting experiment called Unrehearsed Shakespeare. The goal of the experiment was to to exactly what it is called; perform one of his plays completely unrehearsed. We still met like a regular cast for a regular show. However, when we met we met to learn about the rules of the text. Moreover, we learned how let it tell us where to move, who to talk to, how to talk to them and how to keep the story moving. The rules we learned were similar to a lot of the same ones we have been discussing in class.
Elizabethan actors did not have directors like we have today. They also did not have a lot of time to rehearse. These were the exact conditions we were trying to recreate with our experiment.
Now I Pose a question…Is the integrity of the playwright honored when we do Shakespeare now days? The only reason I ask is because I feel like when Shakespeare is done people treat it like it is a blank canvas and the director, producer, or artistic director is the painter. So much so, that the intentions of the playwright are blurred, the language is lost, and there is too much reliance on the spectacle of the theme and not the beauty of the words.
So much of the beauty of Shakespeare is the beauty of the writing. The problem is that the writing doesn’t mean the same thing it used to. More specifically, the language doesn’t have the impact that it was written to have. So when we take and modernize Shakespeare, are we honoring the integrity of the playwright and is it even fair to still do it if we don’t?
For the longest time I struggled with Shakespeare. I had a difficult time comprehending the language and I would get stuck in the rhythm of it. I can remember reading Romeo and Juliet my freshman year of high school. I remember understanding only the major events of the play and missing important details.
My second experience with Shakespeare was my senior year of high school. I was cast as Gremio in The Taming of the Shrew. I remember feeling overwhelm in rehearsals because I knew so little about Shakespeare. I was able to fly under the radar of my director because Gremio has a clear objective that was easy for me to pursuit. It was only after I had been through two months of rehearsals that I could fully understand the details of the play.
In my undergrad, Shakespeare did not become my friend, however we came to an understanding. I learned his rules in an acting experiment called Unrehearsed Shakespeare. The goal of the experiment was to to exactly what it is called; perform one of his plays completely unrehearsed. We still met like a regular cast for a regular show. However, when we met we met to learn about the rules of the text. Moreover, we learned how let it tell us where to move, who to talk to, how to talk to them and how to keep the story moving. The rules we learned were similar to a lot of the same ones we have been discussing in class.
Elizabethan actors did not have directors like we have today. They also did not have a lot of time to rehearse. These were the exact conditions we were trying to recreate with our experiment.
Now I Pose a question…Is the integrity of the playwright honored when we do Shakespeare now days? The only reason I ask is because I feel like when Shakespeare is done people treat it like it is a blank canvas and the director, producer, or artistic director is the painter. So much so, that the intentions of the playwright are blurred, the language is lost, and there is too much reliance on the spectacle of the theme and not the beauty of the words.
So much of the beauty of Shakespeare is the beauty of the writing. The problem is that the writing doesn’t mean the same thing it used to. More specifically, the language doesn’t have the impact that it was written to have. So when we take and modernize Shakespeare, are we honoring the integrity of the playwright and is it even fair to still do it if we don’t?
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