The Baseball Writers Association of America
announced its pick for induction into the hall of fame this week, and, lo and
behold, they actually got it right (mostly), voting in Randy Johnson, Pedro
Martinez, John Smoltz and Craig Biggio.[1]
The 10-player ballot is an entirely different issue that should be rectified,
but that’s for another blog (much like my befuddled surprised as learning that
Aaron Boone received votes, but Johnson was left off some ballots?)[2]
For now, I was happy to see four quality players go in the same year.
But it also got me thinking about Shakespeare’s Hall
of fame. No, I don’t mean that one swanky table of superstars everyone gazes at
during the annual luncheon of the Shakespeare Association of America conference.[3]
I’m referring to a hall of fame of Shakespeare’s characters. If you were voting
to induct certain characters into a list of “all-time greats,” what would it
look like, and what criteria would you use? There would be easy answer, titular
characters that continue to haunt our cultural psyche after four hundred years.
Hamlet would probably go in on the 1st round (even though most
writers probably secretly dislike him); Rosalynd would be a unanimous selection
as well. Iago would eventually get in after voters make him sweat a few years (and
in his induction speech, he would say nothing). There would be heated debates
on borderline cases. Is Puck a Hall of famer? He poured the love potion, but he
got it from Oberon. He’s a fan favourite, but is that enough? Same for
Prospero: he dominated his play with brio, but on a deserted island, away from
real competition like the Roman Senate or the English court. Kate the shrew
would likely get my vote, but I feel she might encounter resistance along her
path to induction.
There would be even tougher decision where
perceptions come into play. How can you not vote for the Merchant Antonio? He’s
in the title of the play (but he does nothing but be sad) Melancholy is
an important part of that play[4]…Shylock
should go in before him…What about Romeo and Juliet? Should they be inducted
together? Separately? Should Friar Laurence? Should the poison? The debate
would rage on as no one would vote for Troilus or Cressida.[5]
I could on pushing the funny analogy (I have pages
of this stuff!), but it speaks to a larger point about what constitutes a memorable
character in Shakespeare? Titularity is not enough, nor is simply being top
billed in your cast of character. Some characters seem to take on a life of
their own that appears distinct from authorial intention or craft. King James’
copy of Shakespeare’s Folio contained the famous marginalia note next to Twelfth
Night that read “Malvolio.” There is no way to know the true intention
behind the note, but the character nonetheless made an impression on the
monarch (more so than Viola, Feste, or Sir Toby, for example). When I watch or
read Twelfth Night (my favourite play), I do so through the prism of my fondest
affection for the Feste (I’d vote for him for the hall). Similarly, some adaptations
and subsequent productions have made a point to shine a light on lesser known, underappreciated
characters (Stoppard’s Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead, Well’s Chimes
at Midnight) or have flipped the script on initial playtexts, such as Julie
Taymor’s The Tempest centering on a female Prospero. These creative
licences complicate our views of what constitutes a memorable character as does
every actor in every production we see. The process is as organic as it comes,
tied to our own sensibilities and experiences. No matter how many different
performances of Cyrano de Bergerac I’ll witness in my lifetime, the character
will always hark back to Depardieu’s powerhouse, heartbreaking performance.[6]
Shakespeare was attuned to such a delicate phenomenon.
He must have known what made a memorable character. Why give so much pathos to
Shylock and send Antonio to the background? Why change the ending to The
Winter’s Tale. Yet, was he aware of the success that a character like
Falstaff would have? Did he know how much we would weep with Lear and laugh
with Crabbe? To a point, but never entirely, I suspect. As with most art, it is
the uncontrollability of a playtext sent into the world that makes it so valuable.
On any given night, in any given theater, you can be moved in so many ways that
you will remember it forever.
But I am never voting for Cardenio…
Excitement:
Oscar season is upon us and some very exciting films have been making
the rounds. I am particularly eager to see Boyhood and Selma, and the optimist
in me would love the see The Grand Budapest hotel be rewarded with several nominations
(Fiennes chief among them). There’s a NFB animated film on the short list as
well, so fingers and toes crossed![7]
Smooshy:
A recurring smooshy to winter, in all its
forms: cold, snow, ice, icy snow, cold icy snow, snowy ice, windy, Shelley,
Jonathan… you name it! I know it comes with the territory, but still.
Shout out:
Shout-out to anyone, anywhere, who has the courage to poke fun at
the sacred, the political, or the revered in whatever form they chose, even if
it puts their lives at risk. Tenez bon, mes amis. Nous sommes avec vous.
Till next time! Now that the holidays are behind us, I’m aiming to
post more regularly. Be warned, that means puns coming your way
Bye, dad.
[1] I was however, sad to see Tim Raines fall short once
again. But there is still time!
[2] To anyone who came in looking for that sweet, sweet, Shakespeare
blog honey and are now confused, angry, and wishing I would combust into
flames: patience, it’s coming.
[3] You’re welcome, David Bevington and Coppelia Kahn!
[4] Just ask the author of the book manuscript “Shakespearean
Melancholy: Philosophy, Form, and the Transformation of Comedy”
[5] Zing! No, I kid, I kid. We kid because we love. But
yeah, no hall of fame for either of you.
[6] Kids, that was back in the 1990s, before Depardieu became
a bloated Russian parade float.
[7] Last time I tried crossing my toes, it hurt for a
week. No more late night pizza for me.
