Two Gentlemen, Titus, Shrew

What? More Shakespeare?

Please, allow me for a moment to assume an interlocutor. Eric, we have all cast this blog into the realm of the many projects you've started and abandoned. We have ceased to think about this blog. We are eagerly awaiting your next project, which we expect to last two weeks.

Ah, but you are wrong (this is me, now). Shakespeare abides. Zombies, God save us, abide. And, most of all, Jackie went to Chicago tonight and left me with whiskey, Shakespeare, and that very dangerous Bob Dylan documentary.

Things have been bad up here, which I think might be part of why there haven't been any posts. But I did read three plays. Now, listen, these three plays are crazy. Insane kind of crazy. The Two Gentlemen of Verona is more or less normal, but just kind of bad, until the very end when it goes insane. The characters suddenly change completely and make ridiculous decisions. As usual, the women get stuck with crap men. The Taming of the Shrew is also crazy and bad, but the scenes with Kate and Petruchio are at least interestingly crazy. I'll say this: this play's popularity is entirely unmerited. I mean, okay, you know, Shakespeare. Yes. But there are so many better plays. I think this play's probably popular for the wrong reasons.

Titus is also bad, but it is consistently interestingly crazy. The best part is: Titus's two sons have been condemned to death. His daughter Lavinia has been raped and had her tongue cut out and her hands cut off (this part is terrible, I'm foregrounding). Titus is told that his son's lives will be spared if he cuts off his hand. He does so, only to have the heads of his sons delivered a few moments later. Titus then seriously says something very like "Brother, carry this head and I'll get the other. Lavinia, bear my hand in your mouth."

That's actually not very close to an exact quote, but it certainly conveys the essence. And it does not exaggerate.

What is it with the continual appeal of Dylan's story, of the Beats? I know that you should grow out of it. I know. At least I'm always able to eviscerate myself quickly enough that the following people never influence my decisions: Kerouac, Dylan, Ginsberg, Harry Belafonte.

I'll tell you who can influence my decisions any day of the week, though: Woody Guthrie.