Shakespeare's Couples: Altaira & Adams

Forbidden Planet is based on Shakespeare's The Tempest. 

I consider Altaira and Commander Adams a more than decent sci-fi couple. 

Here's why (repost form  2020):

One of the things that bugs me about many so-called feminists is how susceptible they are to superficialities.

What's also sad is how far these superficialities creep into the culture, so people adopt them without thinking. 

A few years ago, I showed a clip of Forbidden Planet in class. In the clip, Anne Francis as Altaira walks across the floor to speak to Leslie Nielsen's Captain Adams.  

"What do you see?" I said.

All the students could come up with was her short skirt--oh, it is so sexist--and her supposed demureness, based, I suppose, on her blondness and high voice. Or the fact that the man is taller than she (Leslie Nielsen at 6'1"). Or that the two hug. I really have no idea.

They entirely missed her direct gaze; her level, clear voice; her willingness to argue; her nearly proprietary caress, the fact that she controls the situation.

Anne Francis, like other great sci-fi heroines, took the role and made it her own. To miss these obvious clues for the sake of cliches is to ignore her contributions: how she helped create a great film, her steady career as a working actress.

She and a non-joking Leslie Nielsen convey a workable relationship--she isn't a damsel in distress, no matter her temporary role. She's a working partner. 

Learning from Fan Fiction: Some Relationships May Not Work

On Votaries, I discuss Thumbelina, which brings me--on Romance & Manga--to relationships between average-size people and little people. 

A perfectly respectable romance archetype! Think Tauriel and Kili or Mizuki and Caius. In both cases, the archetypes work in part because the issue is less about size or height and more about culture. 

But a romantic relationship between a miniature person and a human is  always, ultimately, about the difference in height. 

In my fan fiction, I had one of the Littles, Tom, meet a human. Much like Arrietty who continually seeks out humans, Tom wants to make contact beyond his somewhat limited family circle. And he becomes attached. He takes himself off to the same college as the human, where he makes a home for himself in the area behind the brick facade above a dormitory window, and--

I then realized that for the relationship to move forward, I would have to resort to "science" (a la Honey, I Shrunk the Kids) or magic or dreams (a la Alice in Wonderland). 

That is, I was not trying to establish a platonic friendship or even a platonic chivalrous admiration but, rather, a romantic relationship with the attendant physical relationship. And unless it descended into salaciousness (see Gulliver's Travels), it needed to be on an equal footing in both the literal and metaphorical meaning of that term. 

"Equal footing" can cover a lot of territory. Note Tauriel & Kili, Mizuki & Caius above. "Short" or technically little (LP) and "tall" or technically average-sized. Or someone in a wheelchair and someone who is not. All these relationships can work! 

Miniature and fully human, however, gets into the metaphysical.   

Bromance: Ryan and Esposito

"Bromance" refers to a type of buddy-buddy relationship between men that exists in older literature. It goes beyond friendship, having a chivalrous and romantic tone. Such friends are often easily "shipped" (think of Spock and Kirk). In some cases, as with Supernatural, the "bromance" elements override the character's fraternal relationship (which naturally confuses the characters). 

I quite like bromances, of all types, from war buddies rescuing each other to not-brothers-brothers being all-in-all to each other (and then there's Castiel!). I like bromances with romance...

And I like bromances without romance. 

Ryan and Esposito from Castle strike me as one of the best male friendships without a romantic element out there. I'm sure someone somewhere has "shipped" them. But I find their platontic partnership and easy camaraderie entirely believable. Unlike some (not all) television bromances, I don't feel like the wife/girlfriend is thrown in to remind us "uh, no, really, they are heterosexual." Ryan with Jennie (played by his real-life wife) and Esposito with various girlfriends, including Lanie, continue to be good friends. Their lives and personalities expand without them dropping that best friend from work.  

Good writing and acting! 

Sato: Transformation to Normal Teen

One of the most fascinating transformations in manga is Sato in His Favorite. 

Sato starts out as a not atypical manga/yaoi/shojo figure: the tall, handsome, aloof, sarcastic, slightly sadistic, intelligent guy who finds ordinary mortals somewhat perplexing. House, MD--but younger. He starts out, in fact, as a kind of non-changing Sherlock Holmes. 

He doesn't stay that way. As he dates Yoshida, he becomes more and more teenager-ish. He gets enthralled by the school trip. He enjoys fireworks. He gets upset and jealous over everyday spats. His peers begin to interact with him more naturally, so that at one point, they defend Yoshida when Sato tries to tease him! Sato even has his own "clique" in which he comes across less as the "pretty boy" and more as a gangling, normally awkward guy who gets invested in the group's various ups and downs and interests. 

The transformation here isn't a mistake. Although His Favorite is one of the funniest ongoing pastiches and spoofs of teenage manga tropes, Sato's transformation from a somewhat nihilistic, indifferent young man to a regular teenage boy is applauded by Yoshida and the author. At one point, the teenage girls bemoan that Sato has lost his superior edge, the "suave" behavior that made him so initially attractive. Sato is disconcerted--but his transformation is already too far gone. He can't go back.

No longer a budding sociopath but a teenage boy with a "favorite," Sato--due to honest, say-it-like-it-is, down-to-earth Yoshida (with whom he has normal fights)--has joined humanity.

Maturity in What Did You Eat Yesterday

On Votaries, my latest A-Z list tackles characters who transform, often carefully and slowly over time. 

One of my favorite slice-of-life examples of this type of change comes from What Did You Eat Yesterday?, namely Shiro's relationship with his parents.

At the beginning of the series, Shiro and Kenji have been together for about 3 years. Shiro has a normal age-40ish fond-but-exasperated relationship with his parents, specifically with his mom. He loves them but...

Consequently, he complains to Kenji about going home for New Year's (which in the U.S. is rather like complaining about going home for Thanksgiving PLUS Christmas).

To Shiro's surprise, Kenji is miffed (see panel). Startled (since Kenji is normally a happy-go-lucky kind-of guy), Shiro agrees to "go be good to his folks." This one-time agreement turns into several years of Shiro spending New Year's at his parents' rebuilding their semi-aloof relationship (they were never estranged, simply not close).

When a later New Year's visit to his parents with Kenji doesn't go well (Shiro's parents request Shiro not to bring Kenji the next year), Shiro decides that he needs to commit more to Kenji--he should be spending his New Year's with his long-term partner. He should invest (see post on Ross and Rachel) in the relationship that will probably see him into old age.

He informs his parents in a calm manner of his decision. He is blunt but not angry or blaming, and he assures them that he will still visit to help them with cleaning, hospital stays, and such.

Here's where Fumi Yoshinaga truly excels: although Shiro apologizes to Kenji for leaving him alone for so many New Year's, Shiro was not in fact ready at the beginning of the series to make the decision that he ends up making. His "I don't want to spend New Year's with my parents" at that time was childish (as Kenji recognized). His decision several years later is thought-out and mature.

The outcome might be the same but the thought process, the growth, is completely different. It is a remarkable instance of character building and proves, moreover, that non-melodramatic character growth can be as profound and interesting in its own way as a million soap operatic moments.

New Fantasy Novel: Hermes & the Hunt for Enkidu

Hermes & the Hunt for Enkidu is now available on Amazon. 

In an attached world controlled by gods, the head gods compete with the gods of agriculture over who should control the rules of death. Hermes works for both sets of gods. When Zeus and Hera order him to find members of a Wild Hunt, he must deliver a solution that satisfies all parties.

An opportunist with no particular moral code--he thinks--Hermes discovers a possible solution in Enkidu, wild man of Sumer. Enkidu would solve all Hermes's problems--except Enkidu is under the guardianship of a ruthless ex-god. Worse, Enkidu would upset Hermes's careful plans, including Hermes's beliefs about himself.  

Hermes and the Hunt for Enkidu is Book 3 of Myths Endure in Maine, a contemporary fantasy series set in a god-controlled world connected to Portland, Maine. The books follow a chronology. They do not have to be read in order.

The first two books--Kouros Underground and Cupid in Captivity--were republished along with Hermes and the Hunt for Enkidu. 

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

* * *

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.