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As the Crow Flies Blog - Page 4 of 14 - The Upstart Crow Theatre Company

Season Seventeen – Costuming Through the Ages

We opened our seventeenth season, 1996-97, with David Mamet’s Glengarry Glen Ross. We followed with Tennessee Williams’s Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, Shaw’s Candida, Shakespeare’s Hamlet, and finally Synge’s Playboy of the Western World. The questions of how to mount, how to costume, were easy. Glengarry was written in 1983 and whatever changes may have occurred in men’s fashions over the last thirteen years seemed too trivial to bother with. The actors wore their own suits.

Cat on a Hot Tin Roof (1996)
Cat on a Hot Tin Roof (1996)

But Cat was written and takes place in the ’50s in a plantation home in Mississippi. The play is largely about sexual tensions: Brick, the male lead, is gay and closeted (not that anyone used that word in the 50s) but his wife Maggie is straight and unsatisfied. She is the cat on a hot tin roof. But the way people talked about sex, especially gay sex (if ever they did), was quite different between the ’50s and the ’90s. In the first act Maggie wears only a slip. That makes sense for a hot summer day in Mississippi in the ’50s, but I doubt any of our actresses even owned a slip in the ’90s. So we had to evoke the period.

Cat on a Hot Tin Roof (1996)
Cat on a Hot Tin Roof (1996)

Candida and Playboy both take place at the turn of the twentieth century; the Shaw in London, the Synge in western Ireland. Both are romantic comedies and the sexual language and tensions of the Vicwardian time, in London and in County Mayo are, of course, even more different than they would be at the turn of the 21st century. Obviously we had to recreate the setting and the costumes of the time and place.

Candida (1996)
Candida (1996)
Playboy of the Western World (1997)
Playboy of the Western World (1997)

The point is that the choice of setting and period for these plays was easy and automatic. But we also did Hamlet in that season and with that play, as always with Shakespeare, the choice is not easy. When does a Shakespearean play—any Shakespearean play—take place? Hamlet is based on a Scandinavian legend that Shakespeare read in a 13th century version written by the Danish historian Saxo Grammaticus. That places it in Viking times and that sorts with the politics in the play. England owes fealty to Denmark, and the Danish king can give orders to the English king. But Hamlet, Rosencrantz, and Guildenstern were recent students at the University of Wittenberg, which was founded in 1502. And when Hamlet and Laertes duel in the last scene of the play their weapons are specified: rapier and dagger. The rapier was invented in the early sixteenth century. And rapiers are mentioned and worn and used not only in plays that can be thought to take place in Shakespeare’s time, but also in the King Henry plays and even in Timon of Athens and Two Noble Kinsmen, plays that presumably take place in classical or mythical Athens.

Hamlet (1997)
Hamlet (1997)

The ruler of Athens in Kinsmen and in A Midsummer Night’s Dream is Theseus, the Duke of Athens, which is of course a great anachronism. Well, yes, there were dukes of Athens, but that was during the Crusades when a duchy of Athens existed for a while during the 13th and early 14th centuries. That is not what Shakespeare had in mind. In Antony and Cleopatra, Antony refers to a personal servant, basically a valet, of Caesar’s as “one who cuts his points.” Points were ties, ribbons, that attached a gentleman’s hose, his tights, to his doublet. And Cleopatra wears lace, which did not exist till some time in the middle ages. So we have a fair idea of how Shakespeare dressed his actors in that play.

unnamedIn 1594 or ’95, a schoolmaster named Henry Peacham made the drawing reproduced above, and, under it, transcribed some forty lines from Titus Andronicus. The sketch illustrates the moment in the first scene of the play when Tamora, Queen of the Goths, kneels before Titus, her conqueror, pleading for the lives of her sons. It is pretty clearly a drawing made either during or shortly after an actual performance of the play.

Hamlet (1997)
Hamlet (1997)

Titus, the two male (kneeling) Goths and Aaron the Moor are wearing Roman armor. Titus’ Roman soldiers however, are in Elizabethan doublet and hose. Tamara is dressed like a fashionable Elizabethan lady. Under their Roman armor the Goths and Titus wear hose: that is, tights. The anachronism in the weapons is just as striking. The Romans carry medieval ceremonial halberds. One sports a scimitar, an unlikely weapon for either a classical Roman or an Elizabethan English soldier. His companion and Aaron have medieval long swords. But twice in the play swords are called rapiers.

Finally, to complete the list of anachronisms, while the left-most soldier wears a contemporary armor, his companion has on a breastplate of a Saxon style that passed out of use a hundred years before the play was performed. This is one of the best evidences that the drawing is the record of an actual performance. It would be difficult to understand why the artist, simply illustrating a scene from a play he was reading, would draw an armor he would never see in use. But it is easy to understand why an actor might be wearing such an armor: the theatre owned it precisely because it was no longer serviceable for combat.

Hamlet (1997)
Hamlet (1997)

So, there is no default proper period for any Shakespearean play, and that is probably one reason producers today seem to delight in finding strange settings and periods for the plays. But it seems certain Shakespeare did not place any of his plays in his own time. So we costumed Hamlet in the Viking period with rapiers and a university in Wittenberg. The religion in the play is Catholicism; Hamlet’s father’s ghost resides in Purgatory and Laertes says his dead sister will be a ministering angel when the priest at her funeral will “lie howling.” Claudius’s prayer in Act III is certainly a Christian prayer. But Hamlet’s absolute need to avenge his father is not a Christian notion. But it is a Viking’s duty, and mixing the Christian prohibition with the pagan, Viking duty helps to define the great conflict in the character of Hamlet.

Fakespeare – The Second Maiden’s Tragedy

Remember the Hitler Diaries? In 1983 the West German Magazine Stern purchased for 9.3 million Deutsche Marks six volumes of diaries purportedly written by Hitler, and began publishing them. It turns out they were fake and the handwriting expert who proved them to be fake was an American writer  and autograph collector named Charles Hamilton.

 

He earned a lot of fame for his exposure of the fraud, but he was not done. In 1994 he outdid himself when he discovered and published a lost play by Shakespeare entitled Cardenio.

 

Now there really was a play called Cardenio. In 1613 it was performed twice at King James’ court by Shakespeare’s company. And in 1653 a Cardenio by Shakespeare and John Fletcher was entered in The Stationer’s Register—copyrighted, in effect—but there is no evidence it was actually printed. The work registered in 1653 may or may not be the same play as the one performed in 1613. No copy has come down to us.

 

But there is a play that has come down to us: one copy of a handwritten manuscript with no title or author’s name. On the last page, dated October 31, 1611, is a notation that says, “This Second Maydens tragedy (for it hath no name inscribed) may wth the reformations be acted publickly.” That note gives us the title by which the play has come to be known and a last possible date for its composition.

 

On the first page, in a hand dating from much later in the century a title was added:
The Second Maydens Tragedy
October 31st
1611
By Thomas Goff
A Tragedy indeed.
A later hand crossed out Thomas Goff and wrote in ‘George Chapman.’ A still later hand, probably dating from the 18th century crossed out Chapman’s name and wrote ‘Will Shakspear.’

 

Hamilton claimed that this play is really Shakespeare’s Cardenio. We decided we would be among the first to produce this lost work.

 

The name, Cardenio, comes from Cervantes’ Don Quixote. Don Cardenio was betrothed to Luscinda. His friend Don Fernando, who had seduced and abandoned Dorothea, fell in love with Luscinda and tried to force her into marriage. She fell unconscious from helpless rage. Cardenio went mad and fled to the mountains where Don Quixote found him leaping about. Dorothea, in grief, also fled to the mountains where Don Quixote found her disguised as a boy. Fernando kidnapped Luscinda and traveled to the mountains where Don Quixote found them in an inn. There the four lovers got themselves properly redistributed and in a room at the inn they discovered the manuscript of a novel. That novel is quoted in full and it is indeed the source of the subplot of The Second Maiden’ s Tragedy

 

So, there is certainly a connection between The Second Maiden’s Tragedy and the story of Cardenio, but it needs a very rich imagination to find much similarity between the main plot of the play and Cardenio’s own story. The names are different, the story is different, the outcome is different, the tone is different. The only similarity is that in both stories one man loves and attempts to force his attentions upon a woman who is loved by and loves another man. How many thousands of stories can be so described? Among Shakespeare’s works, A Midsummer Night’s Dream, Troilus and Cressida, Romeo and Juliet, and Measure for Measure all fit that form better than The Second Maiden’s Tragedy.

 

Hamilton claimed that Shakespeare and Fletcher made minor changes in the story of Cardenio. The character corresponding to Fernando (‘The Tyrant’) does not kidnap Luscinda (‘The Lady’); he tries to rape her. She kills herself and he preserves her dead body and makes love to it till it becomes a little unsavory. He hires an artist to freshen up the body and the character coresponding to Cardenio (‘Govianus’) disguises himself as an artist, cleans up the body and applies poison to its lips. The Tyrant kisses the corpse and dies. Minor changes.

 

He offered examples of stylistic similarities between “Cardenio” and other plays by Shakespeare: “your discretion sucked” (Cardenio)–“When Hector’s grandsire sucked” (Troilus and Cressida) and “unfashionable for pleasure” (Cardenio)–“lamely and unfashionable” (Richard III) as evidence. Shakespeare and the Cardenio writer both find that blushes can indicate guilt. And so forth. Most of his comparisons are a little better than these, but only a little.

 

So, who wrote The Second Maiden’s Tragedy? Almost certainly Thomas Middleton. Long-time Upstart Crow patrons may remember Middleton’s The Changeling which we produced earlier that year (1995) and a comparison of the two plays is instructive. Both are made of two self-contained plots that connect in only the most tenuous fashion except in terms of theme. In both plays the subplot is thematically and morally a kind of mirror image of the other. (Shakespeare’s subplots are tightly interwoven with the main plots and are thematically supportive, not contradictory.) The Second Maiden and Changeling are about sex—obsessive, compulsive sex—and in both plays the lady in one plot gives in to the compulsion while the lady in the other resists it. This structure is unknown in Shakespeare. Leonella in The Second Maiden’s Tragedy and The Changeling’s Diaphanta are practically the same person: they even have the same mild curse, “Cud’s me,” an expression that occurs nowhere in Shakespeare. Sophonirus in Second Maiden is a ‘wittol cuckold,’ a man who knows his wife is unfaithful to him and doesn’t mind. There is no such character in all of Shakespeare, but he is a staple of Middleton’s ‘city comedies’ like A Mad World, My Masters, and A Chaste Maid in Cheapside.

 

Anyway, it’s a very good play and we’re glad to have been among the first in the modern theatre to do this splendid, non-Shakespearean tragedy.

The Trojan Women – Lost in Translation

We opened our fifteenth season with The Trojan Women by Euripides. I had done the play before. It is, I think, the greatest anti-war play ever written and I don’t think it can be done too often. In fact The Upstart Crow did it again in 2004. The first thing I did, of course, as we do whenever we do a play written in another language, was to find the best translation of the play. I was not looking for the most accurate translation. (I can’t read Greek, so how would I know?) Nor was I looking for the best translation for a reader of the play. I was looking for a translation that best fitted the language the actors would speak from the stage..
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The Trojan Women (1994)
The more I read, the more I loved the play, and the more I became frustrated in my search. Good translations for readers existed, of course, or I could never have fallen in love with the play. But I could find no translation that I thought an actor could speak from the stage without sounding foolish, insincere, stilted.

 

For instance: The play is about the suffering of the women of Troy after it has fallen, and they express that suffering through a fair amount of audible grieving. Virtually all translations express the grief through vocalizations like “woe is me,” “alas,” and “ah, me.” These things will do for a kind of literary stage-direction in a text for the reader, an indication that the speaker is grieving, but they will never do as the actual utterances of people in real grief. I have never heard “ah, me” in real life except as a deliberate jest, an attempt to denigrate or parody grief, and I would never ask an actor to use that expression unless I wanted it to sound like denigration or parody. I do not know exactly what Euripides wrote in these places, but I doubt very much that it was a vowel followed by the first person singular accusative pronoun.
2
The Trojan Women (1994)
The chorus describes the moment just before the Greek soldiers came out of the Trojan horse and began slaughtering the men of Troy. The most esteemed modern translation, that of Richmond Lattimore, renders it thus:
 …and girls’
light feet pulsing the air
in the kind dance measures;
indoors, lights everywhere,
torchflares on black
to forbid sleep’s onset.
This is pretty good, but torchflare is a very literary word, and the last phrase is simply not real human speech. If you ask me about last night I might say something like “Well, I couldn’t sleep,” but I would never say anything remotely like “Something forbade sleep’s onset.” Also I think if dancing feet can pulse the air they must be pretty heavy feet.
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The Trojan Women (1994)
Edith Hamilton’s translation is better—
…girls with feet as light as air
dancing, sang happy songs.
The houses blazed with light
through the dark splendor,
and sleep was not.
—until that last phrase.
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The Trojan Women (1994)
Isabelle and Anthony Raubitschek give us:
the maidens
lifted their feet and beat the ground,
and sang their tuneful airs.
But in the homes, the shining gleam
of fire put to sleep
the darkened light of day.
This is more deliberately ‘poetic’ than the others and suffers from the flabbiness that accompanies that sort of thing. Why are we told of a “shining” gleam when there is, really, no other kind of gleam? And isn’t “tuneful airs” a rather roundabout way of saying “songs”? And why “maidens”? Were only virgins permitted to dance? The last phrase here seems to contradict the other translations; where they express a general absence of sleep, this one tells us the night was sleeping (if that’s what “darkened light of day” means).
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The Trojan Women (1994)
E.P. Coleridge is more poetic yet, although in prose:
…maidens beat the ground with airy foot, uplifting their gladsome song; and in the halls a blaze of torchlight shed its flickering shadows on sleeping eyes.
Maidens again. “Uplifting their gladsome song” really is, in more senses than one,  unspeakable. I suppose I might lift up a song, but I cannot imagine saying: “I uplifted a song.” That sounds like pirating from iTunes.
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The Trojan Women (1994)
Philip Vellacott is perhaps the most prosaic, al-though it is printed as verse:
…music of dancing feet;
Until through the darkened palace
One flare still left alight
flickered on sleeping faces its dim gleam of fire.
This is a translation I might have used, but it is only nominally verse. It would not lend itself to music, and the choruses were sung, and ought to be sung in modern productions.
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The Trojan Women (1994)
So I gave up and made my own. My claims for it are modest. It is certainly not the most accurate, faithful version, for I am not competent to do that. It is certainly not a brilliant modern recreation, for I tried to stick as close to the original as I could, trying to discern the original as best I could through the works of others. All I claim for it is that every line is speakable; that was my guide. I used English verse forms and rhetorical forms, and devices such as rhyme as freely as I used English words and English syntax. Since this is an English version it would seem pointless to render it into non-English hexameters in quantitative verse.

 

It would be unfair not to quote my versions of the passage I have quoted above. Here it is:
Over the stones the dancers swept,
Girls with feet as light as air.
Torchlight danced from every door
And nobody slept.
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