Shakespeare's Couples: Yes, Kate and Petruchio are a Great Couple

In my review of couples in Shakespeare's plays, I have now reached Taming of the Shrew. Below is a post from Votaries about why it is such a great play. 

Re-post from 2005

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In one of my undergrad classes, the issue of sexism in Shakespeare came up. We had just gone to see Taming of The Shrew, and the class was divided into those who thought it might be sexist but hey, women can be jerks too; those who thought it was totally sexist; and those (the professor mainly) who thought that it wasn't sexist at all. (He basically saw Shakespeare as a modern, thoroughly unspoiled liberal writer who could do no wrong—no sexism, no racism, no "isms" at all. The professor was kind of daft.)

I thought everyone was nuts, which may be typical for an undergrad but not very helpful. I can articulate better now what I thought then, so I will.

What I thought was (1) the play we had just seen stank; (2) so, it's sexist--so what are you going to do about it?

Concerning (2), I don't think anyone in the course (at that time) was gunning for censorship. I think, if the issue had been pressed, education would have been promoted as an answer. That is: every production of Taming of the Shrew should begin with an apology from the director and actors; it should end with a discussion led by a women's group, and the program should be embellished with essays by concerned professors who are afraid that the audience will, by watching the play, assume that wife-beating is okay.

I'm not particularly opposed to apologies, discussions or essays, but they all so miss the point.

The most classic version of Taming of the Shrew [not necessarily my favorite; my favorite is Shakespeare Retold's version with Henderson and Sewell] is Zeffirelli's Richard Burton/Elizabeth Taylor production, and [although not my favorite] it is magnificent. 

It is magnificent for several reasons. First, the play is allowed to speak for itself. I don't mean that interpretation isn't involved--Zeffirelli's hand is omnipresent--but there's no attempt to create an application to our modern day.

The play that I saw as an undergrad, the one that stank, made such an attempt. Instead of being a beer-guzzling, larger than life, obnoxious, funny and ultimately chauvinistic nutcase, Petruchio was portrayed as a mild-mannered, sweet, well-meaning bleeding heart. Yeah, right. The relationship between Petruchio and Catarina was mended when Catarina realized that Petruchio was just trying to save her cultural embarrassment; it's all a game, honey, play along.

Elizabeth Taylor was criticized for not

being a true Shakespearean actor. Whatever.

She turns this scene into a demand rather than

supplication through sheer force of personality.

In the Zeffirelli version, Petruchio and Catarina have got so much chutzpah, sexual come hitherness and physical energy, they would probably kill anybody else they married (this was also true of Burton and Taylor). This Petruchio, unlike the appallingly chauvinistic Petruchio of the "modern interpretation," is never sure of Catarina. They will keep fighting until the day they die, and they will love every minute of it. And yeah, it freaks out most of us but as Joan Armatrading pointed out (possibly also ironically), some people are into that sort of thing.

The second reason Zeffirelli's Taming of the Shrew is amazing is the last scene. I'm not a huge Elizabeth Taylor fan, but when she sweeps into the banquet hall, hauling her sister by one ear and the newly married widow by the other, she takes the room and the screen by storm. And then she gives the speech—THE speech—the speech about a woman's place. And it is a thing of beauty. It is gorgeous. You sit there, thinking, "An ordinary, mortal, money-making playwright wrote this." Not a word wrong. The speech flows.

Which is the final wonderful thing about Zeffirelli's production: it lets Shakespeare sing. The cinematography is plush and colorful; the scenes are full of extras; the pace is hyperactive and alongside all this are the words, those stunning words that explain Shakespeare's reputation down the ages. Yeah, the man could descend to bad writing, but when his verse was good, oh my.

[2020 tangent:] What is so sad about all the social justice people who kill art--even my readily offended classmates from many years ago--is that they are so busy focusing on message, they miss not only content but the sheer exuberance of caring about something for the sake of its beauty or wittiness or poetry. I recently watched Ford v. Ferrari. It was way too long for me and seemed a tad uneven. The thing that struck me most, however, was the power of hobby. It's the element that underscores Last Man Standing and makes it more than about politics--and it is the element that literal-minded "let's expurgate everything!" types will never understand as they embroil themselves more and more in the mindset of petty politics.

Car guys have fun.

Zeffirelli's Kate and Petruchio have fun.

Romances Hate Adultery: Esther and Miss Fisher

On Votaries, I discuss characters who change their lives: Ruth and Rahab from the Bible. 

It seemed appropriate to repost about a classic Hollywood Bible romance: Esther.  

The story doesn't really work. 

Not that Hollywood and television hasn't tried. And there are decent versions out there. But Esther as one among many wives doesn't really make for a great romance, even in the polyamorous romance sub-genre. 

Actually, in comparison to its films, which nearly always go the romance route, the book of Esther is more political. The story is likely fiction based loosely on historical events. Let me make clear: There is nothing wrong with this! The Bible contains poetry and drama, lore and proverbs and parables and everything else under the sun.

And the story of Esther is impressive since the person who wrote down the legend/tale knew how to plot!

What makes Esther, the character, stand out is not how much the king loves her but how cleverly she plays the cards at her disposal. She knows she has limited time to make a positive and lasting impression; she uses specific chances and the king's favoritism to bring about political change. 

It's a good story. It likely lasted, in part, because of the soupcon of romance, which is naturally too much for filmmakers to pass up--

Yet therein lies a problem. Viewers don't really like adultery. (See here for why polyamorous relationships are not automatically adulterous.)

When Australia television/ABC presented The Miss Fisher Mysteries, the writers changed Phryne's lover from Lin Chung to Jack Robinson. There are strong plotting reasons for this--an ongoing series needs a police detective to be continually present. And the series doesn't completely dispose of Lin Chung. He shows up in at least one episode.

I suggest another reason for the change: in the books, Lin Chung eventually marries to make his family happy. He truly has no choice; the marriage is a cultural--and for his bride, a survival--necessity. His wife and Phryne become friends. He and Phryne continue as lovers.

To moderns, this blithe acceptance of adultery is hard to take. It is easier to explain in a book where the author can provide social context and lay-out for readers the society in which the characters operate.  

However, the truth is, few contemporary historical regency romances fall back on the "open marriage contract" as a solution, even M/M romances. I suspect that the Fisher scriptwriters were additionally uncomfortable with the possible implications: that Phryne would allow herself to be supposedly degraded by becoming the "other" woman. The book doesn't present her decision in this way. But the perception lingers. Even Wikipedia concentrates on Phryne as open to "free love" rather than the fact that she and Lin Chung are a relatively monogamous couple for a large number of the books--despite Lin Chung having a wife.

As I maintain elsewhere, the desire for the one-and-only is very, very old. The Bible gives us politics in Esther. It reserves romance for the Song of Songs.  

Aquariums in Manga and Live Action BL

It is becoming standard to send characters in manga and live action to aquariums.

It happens with such regulatory in Thai BL, I suspect that a particular aquarium is rather like a house in my grandmother's neighborhood in Pasadena. Though it may have burnt down since, the house was one of the places our family would walk past when we visited in my childhood. Someone was nearly always filming there, usually scenes that were supposed to take place in New England (the house has/had that look) complete with fake snow on the ground.

Interestingly, this use has passed from "hey, the aquarium lets us film on their premises!" to a standard date for BL characters, even in manga. That is, the aquarium date has become a trope, much like amusement rides and haunted houses! In the Japanese BL series, Stay by My Side After the Rain, the characters visit an aquarium for their first date after they meet again (since high school).

There is something quite inviting about fish. And the set-up is perfect for action-while-talking. Sitting in a theater is too static. Dancing is too noisy. The aquarium is perfect!

The below is from one of my favorite short manga stories: "Lover's Pledge" by Kae Maurya. The nervous main character and alpha Darcy-like character get to know each other on "innocent" dates.

Della and Perry as True Equals

 

In the remake of Perry Mason (2020), Della Street is apparently a lesbian. 

The reason I don't know for sure is I never really watched it. I tried to because I quite like Matthew Rhys. But the pilot movie seemed more Bogart than Mason to me, so I gave up. My information here is based on summaries of the show. 

I suspect that having Della Street be a lesbian in the 2020 remake was partly to explain why she and Mason never get together and possibly, also, a tribute to Raymond Burr who was gay and lived with a partner for many years on his ranch. 

But I find the choice somewhat disappointing and the reason has nothing to do with characters being or not being gay. 

The reason is that the unstated romance between Della Street and Perry Mason in the original 1957-1966 show (where they are a kind of low-key version of Mulder and Scully) was WAY ahead of its time. 

Unlike so many of these shows--in which the detective or PI or hero figure rushes around rescuing the poor lil' woman-- Perry treats Della with an impressive degree of "hey, you can handle yourself" respect--even in the later movie where he defends her--and she responds in kind. 

In an Season 6 episode, Della is worried about a friend. She asks Perry how far he would go for a friend; he is emphatic that if he trusted the friend, he would do whatever he could to help. Della then asks Perry for a loan of a substantial amount of money. He pulls out his checkbook without hesitation and gives her what she needs. 

He doesn't try to force her confidence. He doesn't try to fix the situation without her consent (though he later, of course, defends the friend in a trial). He utterly trusts her assessment of the situation. 

The behavior is still impressive if Perry is helping Della, his friend. But Perry helping Della his friend, secretary, and woman-he-feels-romantic-towards, the behavior is...once again...WAY ahead of its time, an exemplar for every kind of couple relationship. 

Extroverted Dogs in Manga

The idea that dogs are extroverts shows up quite often in manga. 

I'm not referring to manga with animal spouses or shapeshifters or beasts as alphas. I read those manga too! 

Rather I'm referring to entirely contemporary manga in contemporary settings with entirely non-magical elements and yet...

Quite abruptly, while reading, one of the characters will gain a wagging tail.  

Like "golf" and "black coffee" the tail is an almost short-hand indicator of personality. 

How extroverted and friendly and people-oriented is this guy or gal? 

Just check out the tail!  

Paperback Romances: Youngson

 As with X, I struggled to come up with a paperback "Y" romance. 

I am therefore reposting a romance from a different A-Z List. The book isn't technically a paperback (I read it in hardcover), but it is a more than respectable romance.

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Meet Me at the Museum is letters between an English farmwife and a Danish museum curator who begin corresponding about the Tollund Man and develop a close and sustaining relationship. I chose it mostly because I wasn't interested in any of the other books on the shelves. 

I was hesitant because I generally don't read epistolary fiction, and I'm not entirely sure why. When I do, I am always engaged. I find the reading fairly effortless. And if it is well-done (which it is here), I come away with a satisfied feeling. 

I think, however, that I harbor the suspicion that letters as fiction is cheating. Not really story. Not complete. Taking the easy way out. Too off-the-cuff. I can't describe my reaction, only I'm wary of the form.

I recommend this epistolary book too!

Such literature can be poorly done: ordinary people who just happen to bring up profound ideas at the drop of a hat. Way too much exposition in cases when people would not explain. Letters that say things like, "I'll tell you the rest of the story in my next letter" (people never do this--not truly), just so the author can create a new chapter. Sudden fulsome descriptions of the protagonists, which again they would never do ("I guess I should describe myself to you"). 

But the truth is, good versions of this form don't do the above. Meet Me at the Museum is written by two fairly well-spoken people who enjoy the act of writing, yet the letters don't feel belabored. They sound like two people talking about whatever comes into their heads without delivering a plethora of names and details that wouldn't matter to anyone. (My mother used to write letters containing completely mysterious details in utterly undecipherable handwriting: Yesterday, I went to the store on Western Ave and bought two screws for the pictures I bought from Leslie for $3.99 each, and I stopped to talk to Mr. Hansen and then dropped by Mrs. Ferguson's. Who? Who, Mom? Who are these people? Why are you telling me about them?). 

It helps that the characters in Meet Me at the Museum are primarily interested in talking about things and ideas. When their families enter the picture, the details are entirely within context. The world behind the letters is a full one, so much so, I imagined some fan fiction in my head for one of the sons.

Most importantly, relying almost entirely on show-don't-tell, the  characterizations of the principle characters in Meet Me at the Museum are impressively clear even though the female writer, Tina, doesn't describe herself  until several letters in (in reference to her daughter and then to another woman). The tone is consistent. And the letters are surprisingly poignant and human. And they bring up history and archaeology, which I always appreciate. 

Despite my lack of warmth towards the form in general, I do recommend the book! 

Shakespeare's Couples: Romeo & Juliet, Part II

Alex Beecroft's M/M Shining in the Sun is a good example of a Romeo & Juliet (or, in this case, Romeo & Romeo) tale working. The main characters, Alec and Darren, come from different social classes. How do they overcome internal and external pressures to part?

Beecroft's answer is for Alec and Darren to acknowledge the stressful differences. When Darren has to meet Alec's well-to-do, Lady Catherine-like mama, he resents being "put on display" as well as the subtle ways in which the mama and the waiters at the fancy restaurant make him feel uncouth. Likewise, when Alec goes to meet Darren's grandmother, he is appalled by the woman's poverty.

The latter scene is fairly brilliant. Darren wants Alec to meet his grandmother; Darren himself has always been impressed by how clean she keeps her tiny house; how hard she works to wear matching slacks and pullovers. Then he sees his grandmother through Alec's eyes. The house is clean but shabby (and lacking in basic amenities). His grandmother's dress is presentable yet threadbare (and Walmart cheap, not haute couture). He resents Alec for this new perspective.

A Juliet and Romeo who seem to 

know what they signed up for.

Both Alec and Darren have to overcome their judgments and resentments in order to move forward. 

Without an acknowledgement of their differences, Romeo & Romeo or Romeo & Juliet or Juliet & Juliet (and so on and so forth) will stall and disintegrate, leaving the reader with the awful instinctual knowledge, "This relationship is doomed--even if nobody dies."