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Subtext: Conversations about Classic Books and Films

Wes Alwan and Erin O'Luanaigh

Subtext is a book club podcast for readers interested in what the greatest works of the human imagination say about life’s big questions. Each episode, philosopher Wes Alwan and poet Erin O’Luanaigh conduct a close reading of a text or film and co-write an audio essay about it in real time. It’s literary analysis, but in the best sense: we try not overly stuffy and pedantic, but rather focus on unearthing what’s most compelling about great books and movies, and how it is they can touch our lives in such a significant way.

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  • Sunday · 40 min

    Civilizational Discontents in “Planet of the Apes” (1968)

    Taylor has left Earth behind because, as he tells a crewmate, “somewhere in the universe there has to be something better than man.” He finds instead a planet where apes enjoy all the trappings of civilization—along with its superstition, bigotry, caste hierarchy, and appetite for violence—and where he himself is taken for “a missing link between the unevolved primate and the ape.” Are these humanoid apes so uncanny because they mirror back origins we would rather forget, or because they suggest that what ails us is our effort to escape them? Wes & Erin discuss the 1968 film “Planet of the Apes,” and whose stinking paws, exactly, are the problem. Upcoming Episodes: Graham Greene’s “The Power and the Glory.” Pre-order Erin’s forthcoming book “Avail” here: http://subtextpodcast.com/avail For bonus content, become a paid subscriber at Patreon or directly on the Apple Podcasts app. Patreon subscribers also get early access to ad-free regular episodes. Also from Wes: Curtain Times, a calendar of Boston theatre, classical, talks and readings. Follow: Twitter | Facebook | Website Transcript 0:11 Wes: Taylor has left Earth behind because, as he tells his crewmate, somewhere in the universe, there has to be something better than man. He finds instead a planet where apes enjoy all the trappings of civilization, along with its superstition, bigotry, caste hierarchy and appetite for violence, and where he himself is taken for a missing link between the unevolved primate and the ape. Are these humanoid apes so uncanny because they mirror back origins we would rather forget, or because they suggest that what ails us is our effort to escape them? Today we discuss the 1968 film Planet of the Apes, and whose stinking paws exactly are the problems? This is Wes Alwan. And this is Erin O'Luanaigh, and you're listening to Subtext. So, Erin, how long has it been since you've seen this movie? Before preparing for this episode? 1:09 Erin: Decades. I think I saw it when I was a kid. 1:14 Wes: I think I saw it when I was a kid, and then I had some kind of dream related to it. And it's always been this kind of film that's just lodged in my. Deep within my psyche and seems to have some deep meaning for me. And I feel like as an adult, I figured out why maybe a little bit, but I might just be rationalizing it, I guess. When the new Planet of the Apes movies came out, I went and rewatched this 1968 original, and then that became the basis ultimately for a talk that I gave at the Brattle in Cambridge. The person who ran that program was a fan of the Partially Examined Life, and they were having a screening of Planet of the Apes, and she asked me to come give a little talk about it beforehand. And then I also gave a talk at the Boston Graduate School of Psychoanalysis. I suppose the thing that really grabs me about it is just the effect of having all these actors in these ape costumes, which, you know, they're not the greatest by today's standards, but they're not terrible either. And actually, it took a lot of work, apparently, for them to get them to the point where a studio would greenlight this and say, okay, people are just going to be laughing at all these actors in ape suits. An audience will be able to take this seriously. But there's something. There's some kind of uncanny effect to this reversal of putting apes in the place of human beings and human beings in the place of apes. So when I originally started thinking about this movie, I wanted to understand that. I don't know if you have the same experience or if you're just laughing at the people in the ape suits? 2:55 Erin: No, I was laughing more at the puns and the repurposed cliches, especially the hear no evil, see no evil, speak no evil. There's some interesting things going on with genre in this film, which I was thinking a bit about. I suppose tonally, it's relatively consistent, even though there are these moments that are almost played for slapstick level visual effect, for laughs. I think I. Even when I was a kid and saw this movie for the first time, I knew the twist ending, of course. Right. Everybody knows the image of the Statue of Liberty at the end. Spoiler alert, 3:31 Wes: he's still on Earth. Everybody. 3:34 Erin: What really amazed me this time was when they land in Lake Powell and I'm going, oh, my gosh. I was standing right there. Oh, that's there. Basically every single place I've gone on vacation in the last five years that I've lived in Utah, just fully on display. I know that landscape so, so well now, whereas before it might have worked as another planet. Instead I was thinking of the fact that, oh, there's, you know, the marina isn't there, but otherwise everything is exactly the same. Oh, that's Glen Canyon. I've stood near there. I guess the exact opposite experience that I've supposed to have a feeling that this was an alien landscape in which could reasonably pass as a distant planet. 4:17 Wes: You know, have you read Cormac McCarthy's Blood Meridian? 4:20 Erin: No. 4:21 Wes: He would love the hyper violent, all the violence, but the way he describes the west, it sounds often very quite alien. I think there's something in the beginning of the movie that's very believable. I don't know how many people figure out that he's on Earth before the end and how quickly they do it. I suspect they don't, because I think that Statue of Liberty scene actually hits hard for people. And there's something about the west that, yeah, it's plausible. That would be the alien landscape. Maybe there's something Mars like about it, but I don't know. What did I make of that? Yeah, if they were thinking more about it, they might have wondered about whether they were back on Earth. Although there were some things that were right. There's no moon. There are some things that had changed enough that they felt confident. I mean, Taylor himself says, you know, we're some light years from Earth on an unnamed planet in orbit around a star in the constellation of Orion. Is that close enough for you? He's responding to Landon. That could be Bellatrix. 5:22 Erin: Taylor's people skills are unmatched we should 5:25 Wes: get to him and his arrogance and what's going on with that. But, yeah, go ahead. 5:29 Erin: I guess for me, the biggest plot hole is, how do you not know you're on Earth when there are apes and humans and horses and also the apes are speaking English? I mean, apparently parallel dimension. I would buy more than another planet. 5:50 Wes: Of course, it occurred to me once again while watching this, but it doesn't. Yeah, a plot hole like that would normally completely make me unable to enjoy a film. And in this case, it's something about which I can suspend disbelief. 6:03 Erin: Well, of course there's something invisible about it. I mean, I wondered at the same time that I was thinking about the silliness of the plot hole, if that very invisibility is part of the point, or that the plot hole works or that it speaks to some sort of perception of. It exposes an invincibility that we feel as Americans with little flags being sent out by NASA to conquer the universe. Right. There's a. There's an invisibility to the fact that they would land on another planet and everybody would be speaking English, because of course they would be. You know what I mean? And so much of the film is also about speech that I started to think about it at a little bit more of a meta level. And maybe we as moviegoers just sort of accepting that these apes speak English, are partially being implicated in some of the messaging of the film itself. I also just want to say that in regard to the Forbidden Zone being a Western landscape, I think this also ties in with my sense of the indeterminate genre of the film or that the film might be coalescing many genres. It not only occurred to me that this is a place where many Westerns were filmed. Lake Powell, which straddles southern Utah and northern Arizona, and the Grand Canyon and Glen Canyon. All these places are themselves obviously sites for filming Western movies at the same time, especially not far from Monument Valley, which I think gets a little bit of a glance, or the area right around Monument Valley is seen on film. But also, of course, it's not that far from where the nuclear tests were made. So in a sense, there's always been. Or at least since the 40s, there's been a strange collision between that Western landscape and something aerial. Something. Something having to do with. 7:54 Wes: If not, Is it Area 51 that they landed in? Is that where they. Is that the Forbidden Zone? 8:00 Erin: Right, right. No, I mean, you know, obviously, beyond the fact that there's this Martian landscape, there's the idea that this has been, because of its desolation, a site to do these nuclear tests. And so the Space Age and the Old west, or whatever we want to call it, the Old west obviously has in it an idea of newness as well. An idea in the popular imagination of an untouched landscape, which we can also say is sort of a silly and laughable idea. Of course, people have been here before. Of course it's Earth. Of course, there's a long history here. But, yeah, I mean, that. That genre collision, and the fact that Planet of the Apes kind of feels at times to me like a Western, not only because of the setting, but because of certain plot conventions within the film. It made me reflect just on larger themes. And those themes of whether or not they're so distant from each other, whether or not they actually have to do with the same. The frontier. Right, the frontier. On multiple levels, whatever. However we might characterize the frontier. Then, of course, later on in the film, you also have kind of a courtroom drama. And then you also have these really comedic moments sprinkled through. So genre wise, it's a strange blend. 9:07 Wes: Well, and the protagonist is arguably a cowboy, although he's a strange sort of cowboy because he has this kind of swashbuckling, arrogant, devil may care demeanor. But at the same time, he has some countercultural critiques. And in particular, he's gone into space because he himself is a misanthrope. You wonder how this guy ever made it through the astronaut screening, Right? So he's a complete misanthrope. And this is the way the movie starts out, interestingly. And then you add the Charlton Heston drawl or whatever it is you want to call it, how he talks on top of all that. And it's quite arresting. So this much is. So this is in his log. This much is probably true. The men who sent us on this journey. I'm sure you can do a Charlton Heston impression. Do you want to read this with your character? 10:06 Erin: I will not. 10:07 Wes: I will not. But you admit that you could do it if you wanted to, right? Erin's nodding for those no comment, she can do it people. So I'm tempted to try, but it would be awful. But anyway, this much is probably true. The men who sent us on this journey are long since dead and gone. You who are reading me now are a different breed. I hope a better one. I leave the 20th century with no regrets. But one more thing, if anybody's listening, that is seen from space, it's, you know, everything squashes man's ego. Because it's boundless. Does man, that marvel of the universe, that glorious paradox who sent me to the stars, still make war against his brother, keeping his neighbor's children starving? He's a humanitarian misanthrope, maybe we could. We could say, and his misanthropy has to do with the way human beings treat each other, which we will find out, he equates with a more primitive right, with our origins in the fact that we're animals, the fact that we have these instinctual impulses, the fact that we've evolved from apes. There's little comments later on we'll get to. And he's hoping that we've evolved more, right? So he'll say at one point that human beings as he knew them on Earth, where a missing link between animals, including, presumably, apes and then some higher being, some higher species that he's out to find. So he's. He's hoping to find something. Something better. And so that's sort of the, I think, the thesis that we get at the beginning of the film, that the film addresses, right, this humanitarian misanthrope who hates human beings because they don't treat each other well enough and is arrogant enough to think that he's better than everyone and should go and find out and find a more advanced species that's just as good as him. 12:07 Erin: I wonder what ultimately, the film wants us to take from Heston's character. Are we supposed to be critical of him, do you think? 12:16 Wes: Yeah, he's quite unlikable through most of the. Even. Even at the end. I mean, he's. He's kind of a prick to the very end, until. Until he gets to the Statue of Liberty. 12:26 Erin: But I wonder how much audiences would register him as a prick, an arrogant. An arrogant because he's Charlton Heston? No, you know, because of the structure of the twist. He never really has to reckon with his own sense of superiority. And even then, maybe he would persist in his arrogance as a human outside of time and thus not guilty of the same sins that he accuses Landon and all of humanity of engaging in. I mean, he gets a comeuppance over the course of the movie, which again, I don't know that an audience, especially a 1968 audience, would register as a comeuppance. Rather, they would see it as an injustice and want to join in with Heston's feelings of, sorry, Taylor Erin, are 13:12 Wes: you siding with the damn dirty apes? Is that what's going on here? 13:15 Erin: Oh, of course I am. Of course I am. He has this claim To a sort of disentanglement from home and family and origin. He, in a way, sees himself as a master of the world and of someone who stands out in his own species, shall we say, to such an extent that he can like get off the ride and go somewhere else. And he just. He leaves. He has no regrets. Obviously, the film returns him to the bottom of the pecking order. And there is an irony about that. And we do see that he does maintain some entanglements. He does have an allegiance to his own species. But because the twist occurs in the last minute of the movie, we never truly see Taylor experience the humility or self awareness that might arise from discovering something like, hey, humanity crashed the car and the apes took away the keys. 14:09 Wes: Yeah. But also the apes. The apes also suck. Right. So we shouldn't forget that. 14:15 Erin: Yeah. 14:16 Wes: I think they're also bigots. I mean, part of the point is they've inherited all of the ills of culture, of course, which is a direct contradiction of Taylor's thesis. Right. It's not the problem of residual animality that plagues us, that we have to evolve beyond with culture. Culture itself is the problem. These, these problems are inherent in civilization and culture. And in a way, the apes have become worse by becoming civilized. Now they can be bigots. There's a whole caste system with the apes. Right. 14:47 Erin: Yes. 14:48 Wes: And that, by the way, there's an interesting effect on all the extras where people who basically, for mealtime and hanging out, people actually ended up segregating themselves by which type of ape that they were playing. 15:04 Erin: I read that. Yeah. 15:05 Wes: Played out psychologically. Yeah. 15:08 Erin: I'm not discounting those obviously negative and sort of parodic elements of ape culture, which Ape. Human culture. I simply mean that insofar as the ape society has established some kind of guardrails so that this kind of destruction couldn't happen again. And they locate what is destructive or what was destructive about human society somehow in things that exist in air or on air. I mean, I have a whole, you know, little chart I sketched out around this. 15:37 Wes: But what do you mean on air, 15:39 Erin: in air, there seems to me to be a connection between the sort of height of civilization or certain advancements with Taylor's age, with 1972, with humanity pre this ape civilization and with the element of air. So air is associated, of course, with the astronauts and covertly with the society that annihilated itself through nuclear bombs dropping from above. Right. I think I'm also tracing this because it exists on air as a case of civilization being Fragile and delicate. You know, we could trace it, say, back to Stewart, the woman in the ship who dies before the movie even begins. Right. The sort of Dresden Doll, fragile blonde beauty who never gets any speaking lines and isn't even awake in the film. And she goes down with the ship. And the ship is futuristic and white and clean and slick and it has, you know, bears a certain resemblance with a paper airplane later in the film. And the apes, on the other hand, are associated with Earth. They don't have flight, and their buildings are constructed in these organic forms. It seems to me that Heston Taylor is associated with this fragile, delicate, dangerous height of civilization and that this is one of the things that the apes are attempting to curtail or critique. And I think this reading. I mean, maybe I'm not reading it properly, but it gets complicated. I mean, when we see this, the new race of humans or hominids or whatever they are, you know, they're up in the trees, some of them. Of course, ordinarily, this would be the domain of the apes as well, but we seem to have the movement of apes in response to this human catastrophe down onto the ground. And humans have taken the place of being the ones who are sort of half on the ground, half in the air. 17:36 Wes: Let's see. I had been talking about Taylor's arrogance and his critique of society. Yeah. The relationship between his critique of society and what Right. Ape culture had, on my view, had inherited all the problems of human culture just because these problems are internal to culture. So that there's. It's a direct. Directly in conflict with the. What I call the misanthropic thesis of Taylor. The. The humanitarian misanthrope. Right. The idea that we just need to evolve more. We just need more culture, that we just need to get away from the animal part of us, and then everything will be okay. I think the. The film kind of challenges that. And early on, just to get at some of this characterization of Taylor. It's pretty. It's pretty strong. You know, they really, really play up what a prick he is, as far as I'm concerned. 18:30 Erin: So, 18:33 Wes: Landon, I was thinking about Stewart. What do you suppose happened? Air leak. She died in her sleep. And then. That's Taylor. Landon, you don't seem very cut up about it. It's Taylor. It's a little too late for awake. She's been dead nearly. Yeah, she's been dead nearly a year. I don't know how Charlton Heston would say it, but everything he sounds. Everything he says sounds like mockery. And then he mocks the person. He's planting the flag and just lets out this maniacal laugh. And actually, right after this point where he's blase about Stuart's death, Landon says something about being away from Earth for X number of months. And then Taylor says, our time, you've gone gray. Apart from that, you look pretty chipper for a man who's 20, 20, 31 years old. We've been away from Earth for 2,000 years, give or take a decade. Still can't accept it. Time's wiped out. You ever knew. It's all dust. So he gets this tremendous gratification out of the idea that everything that he's left has been destroyed and that all of these people that he's. Who have accompanied him, that they're fools for having any sort of attachment to it, attachment to their loved ones, to their planet, to their country. If they want to put an American. The flag on the. On the. This new alien planet, that. That's a foolish way of thinking about the world in general. And it's a part of the mindset that's they're supposed to evolve beyond. Right. And it's very connected to identity and to group membership. Right. Whether it's family or country or whatever, and to, you know, sort of affectionate ties to other human beings. So he's just that kind of narcissist. He's that kind of arrogant guy where everyone is foolish for their silly humanity. And he's evolved beyond it. And he's looking for people who are just as evolved as he is. And what he finds instead is a sort of a perfect complement to his. His own flaws. 20:44 Erin: Yeah, I mean, how. How so? I mean, I'm still stuck on this idea that the ape society has somehow learned a lesson from humanity in a way. Therefore, though they have many of the same flaws that human culture has, they've also, you could say, evolved beyond it by. Beyond some of those flaws, by learning from those mistakes. I mean, it seems silly. I'm like, how? 21:09 Wes: Like Western? 21:11 Erin: But by curtailing those elements of human culture that would lead to this kind of annihilation, by keeping the apes grounded. And, you know, a lot of the movie operates on puns. So we could say if they're associated with the element of Earth keeping them grounded, the humans have evolved not to speak because they see that speaking doesn't do them any good. Speech also is something that exists on air. There's not a tangibility to it. So the apes, though, they're associated obviously at the same time with these ideas. Of religion and religious heresy. And therefore they're not grounded in the sense of being, say, practical, broadly conceived, or only concerning things that they can touch and understand and see and engage with physically. Their culture seems to be a reaction to what happened in human culture. And so I sort of can't get past the fact that there is something that they have over on the humans. I mean, even just from a very basic standpoint, we could say, well, if they survived, they've done something right, you know, and humanity has obviously done something wrong. The evidence is right there. It's a cruel kind of evidence, obviously. It's obviously very Darwinian. But that remains to me a stumbling block, because I think that Taylor does not acknowledge. I mean, he doesn't know it's Earth right Until the last minute. And this is what I'm talking about. Once he knows it's Earth, would he acknowledge that, okay, evolution has produced this result, and I have to at least tip my cap to it, even if I think that it's wrong, how is it wrong? Right. These are a lot of the questions that the film makes us ask by obviously by flipping the power dynamic and by turning the tables on all of us who are watching. 22:45 Wes: But, yeah, I mean, you're reminding me. In the original, the French novel, the apes actually are just as advanced as. As the society that he left. So they're driving around in cars, for instance. I think they thought. The scriptwriters thought that this would be too difficult to replicate on film as part of the reason they went with this more. Right. Technologically primitive society. So the apes, in a way, they're more technologically primitive, although they do have guns and horses and things like that. And they. They're a conservative society. And there's. It's an odd hodgepodge. Right? The science. Science and religion are very closely connected to each other. There's obvious interest in science. You know, you have these two very earnest, scientifically minded young chimpanzee scientists who obviously reflect a genuine scientific impulse in the society. But then you also have this religious impulse which is in conflict with it in the way that we saw historically hundreds of years ago. They're playing out exactly that sort of conflict. And they have a caste system and they pose for photos in front of dead, you know, human beings on a. On a line. And they have lots of things, I think, that are pretty ugly about them. So, yeah, to me, I didn't see much. To me, the ape culture isn't so much. I'm not. Although I might be able to be convinced I'm not sure that there's much to take from it that's positive, except to say that the expectation would be right that the apes would have been improved by culture. And in some ways they have. But there's a lot of drawbacks that have come with it. And again, the problem turns out not to be the instinctual side of us, but the civilized side of us. Because in the wild, animals don't treat each other the way human beings do. They may do some pretty, you know, chimpanzees do pretty messed up stuff eating other monkeys alive and stuff, but it's not done with the same stun for survival. It's not done out of conscious cruelty or sadism. And in particular, it's not done because of these identity and identification and group psychology features that enter in with human beings. So one of the things that leads to human violence predictably is just the concept of offense or insult, narcissistic injury, where we don't get the recognition that we think is due to us, whether on a personal level or a societal level. We're not getting ourselves mirrored back. Our norms, for instance, right? So norms and values are a big source of violent conflict in human history. You have one religion, I have another. Let's kill each other over it. The explanation of that has to do with the fact that we are threatened when others values differ, and we're threatened when those values differ. Because the failure to endorse those values is a threat to our identities. Our identity is predicated on those sorts of values. So we want the right kind of mirror for ourselves because it feels existentially important to have that mirror. And it feels a threat to our very existence if that mirror is not provided to us in the right way. Or even worse, there's the narcissism of minor differences where the mirror approximates but is distorted or cracked in some way. So you are also a Christian, but you're a heretic. So I'm going to burn you at the stake. I might not even do that to someone who just has an entirely different religion, even if I'm willing to go to war with them. So there's something about the being close, close but not close enough that's even worse. And the apes are a lesson in this because their physical appearance, right? He calls them damn dirty apes. When he can finally speak, they can speak, and they're intelligent and have a culture. But to him they're still damn dirty apes. So his bigotry comes across in the fact that their physical form is different from his. That's what makes them inferior. That's what makes them lesser than these. So the concept inferiority is often predicated on these very trivial differences. Some trivial religious difference, some trivial difference in custom or appearance or something like that. He's living out that kind of thing. The apes are as well. Right? The apes are just as bigoted towards human beings and towards each other within their own caste system. But I think my overall point is that the lesson here, he finds out the retort to his misanthropy involves a challenge to his assumptions about problems that arise from being unevolved animals versus evolved higher beings, when, in fact, the problems are a product of evolution, not a product of the lack of evolution. The product, the extra violence and hate and all that stuff comes with morality, not because morality has not evolved enough. 28:07 Erin: Yeah, that makes sense to me. I just. I suppose. I wonder if he ever has that realization. That's kind of what I'm ultimately driving at. I mean, obviously, the part of the point of the film is that it's supposed to mirror our own culture. So we're supposed to get this sense of the arbitrariness of this bigoted relationship on both sides. You know, why is it a damn dirty ape at this stage of the Earth's history? And we have. We have the same points being made back and forth, you know, but you're so damn ugly, Zira says to him at the end when he wants to kiss her. Right. Part of what the film seems to be operating on is this sense of the arbitrariness of these types of differences. And if it is just a mirror, then who's to say that they are more superior or less superior than Taylor himself? As part of my frustration with him, he never gets out of the mindset of damn dirty ape. I mean, he does. I mean, I guess maybe you could say, okay, the kiss with Zira at the end. 29:02 Wes: Yeah, he evolves a little bit, but not a lot. I mean, I think you're completely wrapped myself into it. I think it's an intentional part of the film, though. He does a lot of nasty things at the end of the film towards Zira and Cornelius as well. So he doesn't cooperate with them in various ways, even though they've gone out of their way to help him. He doesn't really express much gratitude. You don't get that? I think it's very intentional. You don't get the sense that he's some sort of reformed, humbled character, even though he's been humiliated. Right. He needs a statue of Liberty sized lesson before he's gonna fall to his knees and cry like that. So it's important that he. I think that the payoff in the end, because his character doesn't change that much is that that Statue of Liberty scene hits harder. Right. Because then it happens all at once. This arrogant guy is really taken down only in that last moment. And it happens all at once in the beginning. Just to give another example of his character. I've told you where you are and when you are. You're 300 light years from your precious planet. Your loved ones are dead and forgotten for 20 centuries. 20 centuries. Even if you could get back, they'd think you were something that fell out of a tree. Right. So this is a point where you have this dreamlike quality, as is typical in these types of movies, where it's almost like he's writing the premise of everything that's about to happen to him. These accusations that human beings are missing links and that there's something more evolved and that the humanity as we knew it is already ape. Like, well, he's going to find out that these evolved beings, that the evolved beings are the, are the apes as well. So. But yeah, I think you're entirely right. Yeah. It's just a matter, I think where we differ maybe you know, is on whether the audience, how much that they would have received him. You know, is he just the cowboy hero? Oh, he's just, you know, he's just a typical self confident cowboy hero. Or would they have had some distaste for him? Which it sounds like you have and I certainly have. Like through the movie. It's an odd sort of protagonist because he's. He's an unlikable protagonist. 31:25 Erin: Yeah, maybe my perceptions are a little off Even of a 1968 audience, though, obviously I suffer from being a little more frozen in amber than the average person when it comes to, you know, I'm thinking a lot about Heston in this particular moment. So one of the things I considered was, well, is it really enough of a comeuppance for his character to have been silenced or even to wear a collar, you know, which is obviously a very provocative image visually. We could argue that's the movie trying to take him down a peg. But we also identify with him as the sole human in this scenario. We're sort of joining with him in this imaginative little exercise that the film is advancing. And then you have added to that the fact that for me, what it really recalls is Heston and Ben Hur. And so you even more identify with this beleaguered, unjustly treated Heston in light of that visual chime. Right. I like what you're saying and how negatively we are supposed to view him. It makes me, I don't know, I guess, consider the film a little bit more kindly. Not that I'm inclined to be unkind about the film. I just had this issue with, okay, what is it really saying about Heston? What is it really doing? And I think maybe we could even say that in light of his losing his voice, which is something I want to talk about more, maybe because so much of the film operates on puns, and puns operate on that kind of flip, which we could call a sort of arbitrariness. You know, he never met an ape he didn't like. Or that's not a pun. Right. It's a rewriting of a cliche. But. But say the puns around the man, you know, capital M, man. And the arbitrariness of authority and various other types of visual puns and jokes and the flexibility of language, let's say, maybe that plays into Taylor's own, say, tone deafness. Something missing in him around language and perception, which has to do with the way that he expresses himself and the arbitrariness of his own expressed superiority. Maybe that plays into his being silenced as well. Even if the moment he gets his voice back, he's immediately putting down all of these animals around him who are clearly in charge of him and, you know. But anyway, maybe there's a reading that could be done around that, which. Which I'm not sophisticated enough in the moment to come up with out of full cloth. But if I thought about it, maybe we could come up with something. But, yeah, right. 33:44 Wes: To the extent that we sympathize with him, it's just, well, he's a human being and so are we. He's not a nice guy. You know, why don't we take the apes side? Well, they look different from us. You know, they're doing some pretty. Pretty mean things as well. Those poor, voiceless, oppressed human beings. 34:03 Erin: Now, but you immediate. Don't you immediately take the ape side like I immediately take Zira's side? 34:09 Wes: Well, yeah, Zira, of course. 34:11 Erin: Yeah. You know, I just. She's a much easier person in air quotes to identify with. 34:17 Wes: Yeah, absolutely. 34:18 Erin: Than Taylor. Yeah. So I think the. 34:20 Wes: Yeah. Zira and Cornelius are more like his fellow companions on the spaceship who are curious and scientific and kind of soft compared to him. Right. You know, so. So when, you know, after Taylor laughs maniacally and I guess makes fun of Landon. Landon. Landon's like, climb off. And then Taylor says something about a bronze sized statue that they're going to make of him. And Landon responds again, climb off, step off it. 34:53 Erin: Gotta bring that back. 34:54 Wes: Seinfeld reference. 34:55 Erin: Yeah. 34:55 Wes: Anyway, so then Taylor gives, you know, another one of his speeches and there's one last item so he won't climb off it, you know, immortality. You wanted to live forever, didn't you? Well, you damn near made it. Except for me and Dodge, you've, you've never lived long. You've lived longer than any anyone ever born. And with our lovely Lieutenant Stewart dead, it looks like you're the last of the line. You got what you wanted, T. How does it taste? So he's not just a prick, he's actively hostile to all these fellow astronauts, which again makes me think, well, how did this ever work? These people have had to have trained together and worked together before all this happened. Is he just coming out of the closet now? They're on a different planet. He's ready to unload on every other human beings and on the human race and in general. But yeah, I think we, you know, in the end we still do, we still are rooting for him. And it is, it is a really. For me it was, it's always been an exciting scene when he finally is able to speak and say, you damn dirty apes. And I'm like, yeah, here you go. Yeah, right, Go humans, let's go humans. 36:07 Erin: Totally. 36:08 Wes: But it's a trivial, you know, our identifications and our loyalties are in some sense arbitrary and trivial, even to our own family. We just have to be raised with that family as a matter of chance. Right. There's a non arbitrary component to that too, which is that family is a formative influence. And so we've become like them. We share familial culture and the same thing with a country, the same thing with other sorts of identifications and groups. So it starts out with arbitrary origins and then it becomes non arbitrary to the extent that it affects our character. And then suddenly we have these loyalties and the question we have to ask our is, how trivial are they? How warranted are they? Is there something deep about them? Taylor himself wants to say, no, it's all bs. All your connection to all your family member, your family members, to your planet, all that stuff, it's nonsense. So Taylor is a huge advocate nominally of this concept of disidentification with any group sort of membership, which of course does reflect the zeitgeist of the time. Right. It does reflect a sort of countercultural progressive zeitgeist where we are supposed to give up those more traditional types of attachments. And so I think we. Yeah, we learned something from this movie about that by the interpolation of people in ape costumes. And then now how do we feel about all of this? But do you want to have a final word for this part and then we'll move on to part two? 37:43 Erin: Yeah, yeah. And then we'll dive into the movie more closely because I do want to talk about that speech that he makes to Landon in more depth. But just to say that there is an important element of the non arbitrariness of our human connections and our familial connections specifically, which you didn't touch, on which I think is crucial, which is that we're also all mutants. We're all. We're all the product of genetic mutations and we share DNA and genetics with our. With our immediate family. Stop it. I don't know whether or not to hit that T too hard or mutants. Or mutants. The way I say it, I say 38:25 Wes: mutants that you weren't really hitting it, that you're doing a glottal. Yeah, that's what I like thing to do. 38:30 Erin: I know, I'm sorry. 38:32 Wes: We're all mutants. 38:34 Erin: Sometimes I think I'm saying it normally and then I hear myself back on this thing and I go, why did I say that word in such a bizarre way? I didn't notice I had a speech impediment around it. Take my face off. It's just like wires and mutant. So you know, where there's one mutant, there's another. And another is what Dr. Zaius says, of course, echoing. I think it's Dodge's word about life. Where there's one, there's another and another and another. The idea, of course, puts one in mind of evolution. The word mutant puts one in mind of evolution. Genetic mutation. Of course, the origin of how we evolve is via genetic mutations, which are rare and in and of themselves. So in a way it's rare to be a mutant, but in another way, we are all the products of inherited genetic mutations which are then passed down through DNA. We have more in common with the people around us in terms of our families than just culture or shared traditions or whatever. We have noses and eyes and personalities and a tendency to prefer certain TV shows over others in common. This is, I think, an important element that. That Taylor is also discounting. And maybe this is what makes part of what makes the apes so distasteful to him, I would guess, if that's. If I could preempt where I think you probably are going to go with the animalistic qualities which the apes perhaps conjure up for him, by which I don't mean anything too suggestive. I just mean the extent to which we can see these types of close resemblances as being evidence of a family structure, evidence of a tie. And maybe Taylor wants to just right what he's done, just float away, just be some sort of free floating, freestanding, disembodied kind of spirit, as much embodied as he obviously is in this film, which I also want to talk about. You know, there's something aspirational about his desire to float up into the clouds and to actually kind of escape the body in a certain sense. And that would also escape all of these genetic qualities that make him the obnoxious human being he is. Anyway. 40:39 Wes: All right, well, on that note. Yeah. Maybe you can say more about this to begin part two, if you. 40:45 Erin: Sure. 40:46 Wes: So. All right, thank you. 40:47 Erin: Thank you.

    • Transcript
  • October 19 · 30 min

    A Map-Like Imagination in the Poetry of Elizabeth Bishop (“First Death in Nova Scotia,” Part 2)

    A coffin like a little frosted cake, a lily of the valley for the dead boy’s hand, an invitation to serve as a page at court: the second half of “First Death in Nova Scotia” keeps borrowing the imagery of a royal wedding. Why does Jack Frost paint Arthur’s hair red instead of draining its color, and why is the red of the maple leaf a sign of death? Wes & Erin follow the child as she turns her cousin into a doll, a page, and a fairy tale—until the snowbound roads refute the story, and the poem’s final rhyme of “go” and “snow” closes it. Upcoming Episodes: “Planet of the Apes” (1968); Graham Greene’s “The Power and the Glory.” Pre-order Erin’s forthcoming book “Avail” here: http://subtextpodcast.com/avail For bonus content, become a paid subscriber at Patreon or directly on the Apple Podcasts app. Patreon subscribers also get early access to ad-free regular episodes. Also from Wes: Curtain Times, a calendar of Boston theatre, classical, talks and readings. Follow: Twitter | Facebook | Website Transcript 0:11 Erin: Okay. Welcome to part four of our discussion of the poems of Elizabeth Bishop. We are partway through First Death in Nova Scotia. We just finished the second stanza. We're talking about the conflict between warm and cold that we've seen so far in the poem. And then at the Beginning of Stanza 3, these images of something which is cold and yet desires touch, or we desire to touch it in spite of, or maybe even because of its coldness, is followed by the mother's attempt to make the child breach the distance or the barrier with the dead Arthur laid out in his coffin by a few different means. With speech, she instructs the child to say goodbye to Arthur, lifts her up, presumably so that she can see Arthur, and then also to give him a gift of the lily of the valley. And speech here is interesting because we've also just been told that through a sort of childlike perspective, that what seems to characterize the loon is not that the loon is dead, though this speaker, who seems to be both child and present day bishop, knows that the bird has been shot and stuffed. But what seems to characterize the fact that the bird is not a live bird is simply the fact that he's not speaking, that he's keeping his own counsel. So there's something here about speech separating living and dead, where the mother is instructing the child to speak and Arthur's not going to be able to respond, just as the loon isn't going to be able to respond. Not that the loon can talk, but you know what I mean. 1:55 Wes: So you're getting at the relationship between death and keeping one's own counsel. Because I think, you know, on the one hand there's just the very literal fact. Yeah. We can't communicate when we're dead. Although if you've ever lost someone, you know, you know, which I know you have, the way the dead seem to try to communicate with us in our dreams and otherwise you might have experienced them, but people often do. But the other aspect of this is just that contemplativeness, which is maybe I'm reading too much into this, but which is what I associate with this image of the loon keeping its own counsel floating on the marble topped table. That kind of inwardness is an ascetic position, right. Rather than just going, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah. You know how those loons love to talk. Whatever sounds. What are the sounds? 2:43 Erin: The crazy sounds. Yeah, the chatter. 2:46 Wes: Is it. Is there a thing about loons? And on Golden Pond there aren't loons featured in that. Yeah. Yes, but I forget the sound of their calls. But anyway, yeah, maybe they never shut up in real life. But if they could shut up, if they could restrain themselves a little bit, that would be an ascetic moment. And that the moment, moments of self restraint, right. To the extent that they are suppressive of instinct or desire or impulse, could be considered deathlike. Right. They rein life in, so to speak. So the limit of this, you know, for Nietzsche, it's science and all that stuff. Science and religion. Science and religion are the ultimate manifestations of this kind of asceticism. 3:31 Erin: You're reminding me, I mean, how in the previous part you made the connection between keeping one's own counsel and Canadian reserve. So, you know, we should note that this is the first death that the speaker has experienced. And she's obviously not registering, as I said, you know, she's not quite registering the loon as dead. She's registering the loon as thoughtful and contemplative, as you say, caressable and. Right. And otherwise she would think her relatives maybe just sitting there at a dinner table are dead. If she thought that that was the same thing. But not speaking is the same thing as being dead. Right. There's a way in which she's not recognizing the loon as dead. And perhaps that is. Well, actually it just Occurred to me. Perhaps the loon is analogous to. If we know Bishop's biography is analogous to Bishop's father. Right. And the sense in which this child experiencing this. This first death that she's conscious of is at the same time not conscious of the death that's actually all around her. So she's not conscious of the loon as being dead. That this is a dead object that she's already come into contact with regularly, just as she was too young to register her father's death, which was for her or for her family, her first true death in Nova Scotia, the first death that she experienced there. You know, I think this is just all indicative of the child's perspective that there's this breach of innocence. I don't know that, though, that there's actually loss of innocence here, because she's still kind of conceiving of maybe in the very last stanza, but she's still kind of conceiving of Arthur as an aestheticized object, as an imaginative page at court. When I say aesthetic object, I mean the fact that there's the cake and then Arthur compared to a doll. There's not really recognition he's embalmed as well. 5:22 Wes: Right. Aesthetic object in mimesis. It's all about preservation. In the case of the loon, it's preservation over a prolonged period of time. And it's not just a typical representation. Right. If you were to paint a picture of the loon, you might have immortalized it for however long a picture lasts. It's a bit different to write. Conflate the representation and the object of representation, which is what the taxidermy is doing. The taxidermied animals, in a way, just a representation of the living animal. But you're using the dead body of the. Of the animal to represent what it was when it was living. It's a sort of insult added to injury. Maybe. But in the case of the right, the dead human being, they have to be embalmed and preserved long enough to say goodbye. And she is being confronted with that necessity. And I'm not sure she's being confronted with it in the nicest way. Although, again, I may just be reading into this, but when the mother says, come and say goodbye to your little cousin Arthur, and then gives her a flower to give him. I don't know, now that I'm reading it, maybe it's not so bad, but it seemed rather cavalier in the poem on my first reading. But, yeah, I mean, I think maybe the point that you're getting at is that she's in a bit of denial about. As any child would be and as all of us are to some. To some extent about confronting the reality of the death and the preserved loon. Right. The loon that's still alive in a way, even though it's is dead. Lends itself to that kind of denial. 6:56 Erin: I think it's a lack of awareness. I think that she's only woken up to the idea of death and sees death as death in that final stanza. Prior to that, it doesn't seem that there's a recognition. So it's really just about what we recognize as death in our everyday lives and what we just sort of take for granted or walk past. 7:20 Wes: When do children comprehend death? I have this memory of my nephew who's now like a lawyer with his own children. But I remember when he was. I think when he was 3, we were at the Natural History Museum and Washington, D.C. and we were looking at the bones of dinosaurs. This is very apt story, I guess, for this poem. And it dawned on him that these are the bones of things that used to be living and that they were dead. And he had me explain this idea to him that these. It was as if he was shocked to learn that things could die. And then he said to me, let's not tell anyone else about this. Let's not tell anyone else. Yeah, very sweet. 8:01 Erin: Oh, I love that. Wants to preserve everybody else's innocence. 8:05 Wes: But I've always. Yeah, but I've always wondered, well, is. Am I just fabricating that story in my head? I forget. There is an typical age, I think, that they say that children start being able to comprehend death, but I don't remember. 8:20 Erin: It must have been in a movie for me. 8:22 Wes: Yeah. So she may be at an age here where the significance of death can't really be communicated to her. 8:27 Erin: Right. 8:28 Wes: Or she may be just at the point where she is learning that death is possible. And this is like the first real confrontation. 8:36 Erin: I mean, I think come and say goodbye is kind of your typical. You know, what else is this woman going to say? 8:41 Wes: Okay. 8:42 Erin: You know, it's kind of a typical thing for someone to say. And presumably these two children are around the same age. Because this. I mean, that's what makes this so extraordinarily tragic. That Arthur was very small. And this maybe is a desire on the part of the mother to give the child a sense of the need to say goodbye to this relationship that she might have had with Arthur as a playmate and recognize that he's not going to be your playmate in the future. I'm just reading into this, but this leads me into. I don't know if you had the same reading, but the strange wedding imagery that subsequently comes up in this stanza. She gives him a lily of the valley. This is a flower traditionally associated with weddings, especially royal weddings. Royals always carry lily of the valley at their weddings. Though I think it can also be. It's unclear to me if just white regular lilies, which are actually an entirely different kind of flower than lilies of the valley, which are actually in the asparagus family. I saw. Anyway, white lilies, association with funerals versus lily of the valley, perhaps not being typically associated with funerals. Here they are. But they're typically associated with weddings. And then we get Arthur's coffin as a little frosted cake. In my mind's eye, this is a white cake, so that's obviously a wedding. 10:06 Wes: It's funny, I was thinking of it as a chocolate cake because I'm drinking chocolate. The coffin is black or brown. 10:13 Erin: I don't know. I don't know if they have other types of. I mean, this would have to be a specially made coffin. 10:19 Wes: It could be a white coffin. It was just. It made me think of that show where they make things out of cake and you have to try to tell if it's, like, the real thing of the cake. First thing I would do is I would see if, is that a coffin or is there actually frosting on there? Dip my finger into it. But, yeah. No, I like this idea that you're introducing that because of the lily of the valley, we might think of this as a wedding cake. 10:45 Erin: I hate to speculate about this. I feel like I'm in a John Mulaney special talking about children's coffins. But would it be more likely to have a coffin for a child be white as a symbol of innocence, just as the lily of the valley? I don't know if in 1915 they were making white coffins or if they were only making white coffins for this specific purpose, or if you could only get one type of coffin in Nova Scotia, I have no idea. 11:15 Wes: It could just be a pine coffin. You know, it could be where it'd be white. Ish. But I like to think if his name is Arthur and he's got kings above him, he's got a nice fancy coffin there. 11:27 Erin: But who knows, right? This, I think, started off the chain of associations that made me realize, okay, we have these two children that are roughly the same age. They're cousins. We have this theme of royalty and of course we know. I mean, this is a stretch, but of course we know that cousins can marry in royal. You know, it's usual for cousins to marry in royal families. And there's a bit of inbreeding in the list of the figures in the chromograph, including King George with Queen Mary, which this might be their wedding portrait, we don't know, but they were of course a married couple. And we have this idea that the speaker being of the same age, same size, there's just an idea of the pair of the pair of them together. And the wedding imagery maybe highlights that or it highlighted that for me that there was an implied closeness which isn't expressed in the poem, but which seems to come through via these angular means. Also, the idea of Arthur being a page, of joining the court as a page. I did look up in what circumstance? Because I associate royal pages with royal weddings. Right. You have the little boys serving as pages in the wedding. And I looked it up and that is indeed the most common use of pages in attendance at royal weddings. That older boys in their teens would serve as pages in other types of official capacities, but that particularly young boys. So presumably boys of Arthur's age would serve as pages at a wedding. So just a further. You know, this is mysterious to me. I'm not sure why this is, but it's definitely. It's ringing wedding bells for me. 13:09 Wes: Well, funerals tend to do that, you know. But isn't that what they do at funerals, they throw an article of the dead person behind them and then the first person to catch it is gonna be the next one? Mary. 13:23 Erin: No, I was taking you seriously for a second. 13:27 Wes: You know, it occurred to me while you were talking, because the coffin is a little frosted cake and the red eyed loon eyed it from his white frozen lake. Loons really do have weird red eyes in real life, right? 13:38 Erin: Mm. 13:39 Wes: And the loon is white breasted, but mainly they're black. 13:43 Erin: Right, right. And this is, I'm assuming, the child's interpretation. 13:48 Wes: Right. 13:48 Erin: And so now the child is ascribing a kind of desire or appetitiveness to the loon. 13:54 Wes: Yeah. 13:55 Erin: Being hungry. 13:56 Wes: Yep. So that the coffin becomes something that could feed the living as opposed to something that is just a vehicle for the dead to the underworld or to the royal court or wherever it is you're gonna go. 14:13 Erin: Arthur is like a doll. You know, one thinks of the figurines at the top of a wedding cake. One thinks of the fact that little girls may play wedding with their dolls. 14:23 Wes: So that's it. This is interesting. Yeah. He was very small. So there's these different references to littleness of Arthur. One is the come and say goodbye to your little cousin. The coffin was a little frosted cake. And then Arthur was very small. Right. 14:39 Erin: Maybe he's even younger than the speaker. Gosh. Maybe he's only two. 14:42 Wes: Yeah. So that's. Is that enough cake for everyone? Just kidding, Sorry. 14:47 Erin: Oh God. 14:50 Wes: It's just thinking of the tininess, how tiny the coffin must be. 14:55 Erin: Yikes. 14:56 Wes: Substantial reduction in the cake, the amount of cake. But. But seriously. So yeah, I think we're meant to think of a very small coffin and we have this doll like figure in it who hasn't been painted yet and so is pale. But this is the part I was going to have you to explain to me. Jack Frost had started to paint him the way he always painted the maple leaf forever. All right. Yeah. So I'm getting the image of something like limned around the edges with color or something that's just been something unpainted that's has been painted a little bit. But I don't know what the reference here is. 15:34 Erin: Okay, so this is what I was going to actually begin the episode with. I wanted to ask you about this because I had only ever associated Jack Frost. Tell me if you identify with this with the ice on the window pane, with the frost on the grass or on leaves. 15:53 Wes: Exactly. 15:54 Erin: So I associated him in other words, with just with coloring things white. Yes. Then I looked him up because I was like, wait a minute, I never noticed this before, but he's doing, it seems the opposite of what he should be doing. So he's actually adding color where one would think that she would say, oh, the boy was normal. And then Jack Frost had painted the whiteness on the rest of the body. But in fact, Jack Frost traditionally does both. Paints the leaves red in autumn. So he colors the leaves and he is responsible for coatings of ice and snow, etc. So this is related to the false warmth or the false promise of aesthetics or aestheticized objects, I should say, because there's warmth here with the red, which is the hot color. But like the glass eye of the stuffed bird, it's a deceptive red. It's not the red of vitality, but it's red as a signal of death. Because the leaves are preparing to fall by turning red and then will be either before or after they fall, coated in white again. So it's a short lived red. And then they're going to turn brown and Then Jack Frost is going to do the second phase of his painting project and turn everything, I guess, back to baseline, just white, blank. 17:15 Wes: What is this painting of the Maple Leaf Forever? What is that again? 17:20 Erin: I looked this up. Maple Leaf Forever, no parentheses, is the title of a patriotic British Canadian song. And obviously the maple leaf is the symbol of Canada. So it's sort of using Maple Leaf forever as they're saying, like, Canada is immortal. Rah, rah, Canada. In context here, it's obviously pointing out that it was kind of an ironic object to associate with foreverness when leaves are quite transient, you know, it's not like plutonium forever or something like that. 17:53 Wes: And then the red strokes on the hair. So that's an odd. Another odd image because presumably his hair isn't white. His hair probably isn't red either. And I considered blood, but that seems very unlikely, implausible. 18:08 Erin: I think that Arthur is a redhead. 18:10 Wes: Okay. 18:11 Erin: That has to be the only thing. And so she's sort of imagining that he's. 18:15 Wes: He has the red hair, but his. Yeah, his skin is white. Okay. That's what it is. 18:20 Erin: Right, Right. 18:21 Wes: That's the only color that's left to him. Okay. 18:23 Erin: Right. And so she's not really thinking. This is interesting. She's not really thinking of Arthur in his former state. She's seeing him as an unpainted doll, not living Arthur, who's now turned white. She's seeing him as a sort of like brand new unpainted doll, Arthur. 18:43 Wes: So it's not that he's just lost his color, it's that he's about to get his color. It's an interesting reversal. 18:48 Erin: Yes. Yeah. And there's an intervention that's been made and then abandoned by Jack Frost to paint him. 18:55 Wes: Poor Arthur. 18:56 Erin: The act of painting itself is this touch, this aesthetic touch. But there's still sort of contact, Right. In this poem's repeated references to the desire to touch, the desire to, in the case of the cold breast of the bird or maybe the marbles, the desire to touch and hence warm up. And so here, the imagination of the child, anyway, tells us that Jack Frost has touched the hair with this red, vital color, but then otherwise abandoned the project. And anyway, the red is associated with a maple leaf. And so this red is actually a signal of death. So there's a dead end, so to speak, for vitality. 19:41 Wes: There's the opportunity to return to color, the color of the chromograph, to the royal court, where they're wearing their red and ermine. Ermine. Ermine. Ermine. 19:52 Erin: Ermine. 19:53 Wes: Ermine. Wow. And warmth again, Right. Feet wrapped up, invited Arthur to be the smallest page at court. Right. So another. Again, another reference to his smallness, his diminutiveness, and I guess to his youth, his age. But he can't go because his eyes are shut up tight and the roads are deep in snow, so his passage is barred. And in any case, he wouldn't be able to see where he's going. And maybe the eyes being shut. Right. The significance of color is not even available to him. He's beyond the ability to comprehend color versus no color. So it's a very poignant image. Right. So the whole arc of the poem is that, right, in the color of the chromographs, she sees life or afterlife or transcendence of a sort, Right. With the royal aspect of it. And so there's. There's some hope set up for Arthur for what's going to happen to him in the wake of his death, which is cut off at the very end of the poem. 21:00 Erin: The associative logic that I mentioned in the previous part between the stanzas. I especially love it here because she's talking about Jack Frost being a painter and coloring. And then we get the return to the chromographs, of course, which are colored, highly colored on the walls. So it makes her look back up at them, too, as she's sort of realizing that there's nothing bright left for her to look at on Arthur's body, which is plain. And so she drifts up again to the thing that would capture her attention, the colored photographs. And then the royal couples are warm. Here we get explicitly told, you know, that color and red is warm, and 21:40 Wes: ermine is reminiscent of the feathers of the bird. 21:43 Erin: This is a chromograph of ermine. Right. So literally, the ermine may look warm to the speaker, but of course, if you touched it, it would be cold. This is not real ermine. It's an aestheticized ermine that can't offer warmth. 21:59 Wes: If you can't stuff animals, wear them. 22:03 Erin: Right. 22:03 Wes: I just looked this up. There's stoats. It's made from stoats. Ermine. Have you ever seen a stoat? 22:10 Erin: Yes, I've seen ermine, too. Yeah? 22:15 Wes: Have you? 22:15 Erin: What's it like? Ermine? It's very warm. 22:18 Wes: Fabulous. 22:19 Erin: Very. 22:20 Wes: Very. 22:20 Erin: Yes, very fancy. Very. I do not condone the wearing of fur, but I have seen. 22:25 Wes: Oh, you know, real ermine. I didn't know you had a position on that. 22:28 Erin: Yeah, I think it's. It's really? Actually really nasty and horrible. What's. These farms where they. Yeah, I don't even want to think about it. 22:38 Wes: So. Yeah. Something I don't know anything about. All right, so don't do that. People don't shoot loons and stuff. Don't move her. And don't make the mistake of thinking the coffin is a frosted cake, because I did last time and that did not go well. 22:57 Erin: Wasn't enough to go around. I'm sure there was plenty of cake at President Taft's funeral. 23:05 Wes: Wow. I haven't laughed that hard about the 19th century since 19th century. Reference going over. Yeah. 23:17 Erin: Yep. I try to keep all my comedy very au Courant. 23:22 Wes: He's 1909 to 1913. 23:24 Erin: Right, Taft? 23:26 Wes: Yeah, sure. Yeah. Okay. I'm calling it 19th century. 23:30 Erin: It was probably an urban legend that he was buried in a piano case. Right. 23:33 Wes: You know, he was born in 1857. So. All right. No, I'm just. Just, you know, catching myself on saying 19th century, but okay, I know. 23:41 Erin: Yeah. I was like, ah, early 20th century. Same. I mean, he was still reigning in. 23:47 Wes: You gotta reign me in. These bad facts. 23:50 Erin: Sorry. 23:51 Wes: Jump on them. 23:52 Erin: I don't mean to be a. Know it all that, you know. Oh, I know my presidents and when they were around. Anyway, do. Do you agree with my idea or, you know, I don't know if I agree with it, but. But do you think that they invited Arthur to be the smallest page at court is an idea that's been lent her by the mother? Or is this something that occurs to the speaker or that the speaker imagines? 24:15 Wes: I think it's more poignant if this is just a child's imagination trying to deal with death. But what would the adults be explicitly doing? 24:26 Erin: Well, the mother might say, oh, Arthur's going to go. You have to say goodbye to him because he's going to go off now to Never Never Land. 24:34 Wes: Yeah. So certainly a possibility. But even. Even if it hasn't been explicitly stated, I think it is kind of implicit. Right. In the scene and in the. And in the social dynamics. It's certainly that idea that he's off to royal heaven or might be off the royal heaven seems to be implicit, but. Yeah. So you seem to like the reading that she's been told that. 24:56 Erin: I don't know which I prefer, but I think it's interesting that it's so immediately refuted with that. But. So it's almost as though she's been told this and then that's the moment when it kind of hits when the Reality of this hits her as we've been kind of leading up to that. She finally kind of understands that what's gone on here and what's impossible here, she looks out and realizes, wait a minute, this story, right, that she's either invented or that she's been given by the mother can't be true. So, in other words, life isn't a fairy tale. He's not going to be a page at court. This is real life. He's really dead and he's not coming back. 25:36 Wes: Yeah. The royal figures, the couples are. They're inviting Arthur. Right. So there's a call and response here. So she's recognizing them as inviting Arthur. And then her thought is a response to that invitation, which is not to say, you know, she might not also have been told this, but in the fantasy that we have in the poem, she's responding to this invitation. 26:00 Erin: Well, and perhaps this is a stretch, but I thought of the fact that there's this immediate friction here at the end between these competing thoughts. The imaginative fancy that Arthur is going to be a page at court and the reality of the snow on the roads contradict. So within the speaker's mind, there's a kind of. Again, I'm using friction because, you know, I'm thinking that while friction is kind of a warm. It's a warm idea, there's a discursive and imaginative conflict there, or an internal argument between her fantasy and the reality. And this is also the moment, I think, where there's a kind of closeness to Arthur, which is further evidence for my idea that in her mind now, internally, there is this true moment of warmth both from the friction between these two ideas. And then because she occupies, in a way, the perspective of Arthur in order to put together that he wouldn't be able to go out. And his eyes are shut up tight. I mean, they're partly shut up tight to keep her out. He's in a world. He's in a state of his own. He's not looking at her. He's not. There's no obvious. Of course, there's no communication going on there, but she's sort of occupying Arthur's perspective and then pitying him, pitying the impossibility of this. And that, too, to me, is creating a closeness with him, really, for the first time, because she's. Because I think prior to this, there's emotional distance where she's not getting it. 27:26 Wes: Absolutely. 27:26 Erin: So there's sort of a redeeming warmth at the end, strangely, with this moment of impossibility and of the tension or the friction between imagination and reality. 27:36 Wes: Yeah, this is a really good point. We really don't have any direct sense of her sentiments until the end. Right. She doesn't say my. My cousin. Right. It's Uncle Arthur, Arthur's father. And she's disassociated maybe a little bit. Right. And there's the movement to the loon. We hear some narrative of what her mother is saying. And the mother calls him little cousin Arthur. And then she picks up that word in the fantasy. Right. The little frosted cake. And Arthur was very small. We get the beginning of some sentiment towards him in this. But otherwise it's very. Yeah, it's. It's quite distant. Right. For the most. For most of the poem. And then at the very end, I suppose it's in. You know, again, it's not a direct statement of feeling. Right. Of grief or sadness or something like that. But it's such a poignant question. How could Arthur go. It's a great way to capture the feeling. Right. That you might get when someone has died. 28:39 Erin: That's right. 28:40 Wes: Originally, the end of the poem was. And she was sad. And that she rewrote that line many, many times. So finally she settled upon. But how could Arthur go. Anyway. Sorry. 28:52 Erin: No, no, no. 28:53 Wes: Or I was sad. Was it she was sad? Or I was sad and I was sad. Sorry. Yeah. Do you have any. You want to give some last words? 29:03 Erin: No, just. This is such a. Yeah. All speech, I guess, in this. So in this poem is memorial. Yeah. Just the poignancy of the ending and the irregular rhymes. Or even the perfect rhymes. Right. With repeating words. Say in the stanza above. Forever. Rhymed with forever here. It's such a simple rhyme. Go and snow. Which at the same time, like, there's a. There's such a finality with that last rhyme. We get this perfect juxtaposition between the two ideas that we've been talking about. 29:37 Wes: Go. 29:38 Erin: Which is indicative of vitality, movement, aliveness and snow. The frozen and static, the dead. 29:46 Wes: Very good. Yeah. So next time we'll be doing. The logical successor to this poem is Planet of the Apes. Of course. 29:54 Erin: Of course. It's an anti taxidermy movie. Right. 30:01 Wes: That's true. The animals have revolted, just like the peasants. They're revolting. It's 1968. That. That version, as listeners to the show can imagine, it's one of my favorite films. Just because it's 1970s adjacent, 30:17 Erin: spiritually 70s 30:20 Wes: and Charlton Heston, you know. Yeah. So it'll be Planet of the apes and then the power and the glory. Graham Greene. 30:27 Erin: Just more. More logical progression. Okay? 30:30 Wes: It all fits together somehow. 30:34 Erin: We always find it. We always find a connection. All right. Thank you. 30:38 Wes: Thank. You.

    • Transcript
  • October 11 · 33 min

    A Map-Like Imagination in the Poetry of Elizabeth Bishop (“First Death in Nova Scotia”)

    In the cold, cold parlor of Elizabeth Bishop’s “First Death in Nova Scotia,” a child is lifted up to say goodbye to her little cousin Arthur, laid out beneath chromographs of the British royal family and beside a loon shot and stuffed by Arthur’s own father. The title is a small lie: the first death in Nova Scotia was that of Bishop’s father, which she was too young to remember. What the child sees instead is a world sorted into hot and cold, near and far—the brilliantly colored, distant royals; the white, frozen bird keeping its own counsel; red glass eyes “much to be desired.” What does a preserved, aestheticized death invite us to feel, and what does it hold at a distance? Wes & Erin continue their reading of Bishop’s poems. Upcoming Episodes: “Planet of the Apes” (1968); Graham Greene’s “The Power and the Glory.” Pre-order Erin’s forthcoming book “Avail” here: http://subtextpodcast.com/avail For bonus content, become a paid subscriber at Patreon or directly on the Apple Podcasts app. Patreon subscribers also get early access to ad-free regular episodes. Also from Wes: Curtain Times, a calendar of Boston theatre, classical, talks and readings. Follow: Twitter | Facebook | Website Transcript 0:11 Erin: Welcome to part three of our discussion of the poems of Elizabeth Bishop. Today we're going to be focusing on First Death in Nova Scotia. Wes, I was just wondering, were you familiar with this poem at all before I suggested it? 0:26 Wes: No, not at all. And I have to admit that I've been actually thinking about the poem, but the title that's been in my head is Last Death in Nova Scotia. Odd transposition. 0:40 Erin: Not really. I think the title. You're anticipating my first point, which is going to be that the title is a bit of a lie. If we know anything about Bishop's biography, which we do because we covered it. Her previous parts. Right. The first death in Nova Scotia that she would have experienced, though she wouldn't have remembered it, was the death of her father. Did you enjoy it? This is one of my favorite. 1:01 Wes: Yes, it's great. 1:02 Erin: Yeah. It's not among the best known of her poems, but I mean, every single one is really a gem. This is from Questions of travel from 1965. That collection has two sections to it. One called Brazil, which is obviously Brazilian poems, and then one called Elsewhere. And this is in the Elsewhere section, of course. Should I start out just by reading it and then we'll dive in? 1:29 Wes: Yeah. 1:31 Erin: First Death in Nova Scotia. In the cold, cold parlor, my mother laid out Arthur beneath the chromographs Edward, Prince of Wales with Princess Alexandra and King George with Queen Mary. Below them on the table stood a stuffed loon, shot and stuffed by Uncle Arthur, Arthur's father. Since Uncle Arthur fired a bullet into him, he hadn't said a word. He kept his own counsel on his white frozen lake, the marble topped table. His breast was deep and white, cold and caressible. His eyes were red glass, much to be desired. Come, said my mother, Come and say goodbye to your little cousin Arthur. I was lifted up and given one lily of the valley to put in Arthur's hand. Arthur's coffin was a little frosted cake and the red eyed loon eyed it from his white frozen lake. Arthur was very small. He was all white, like a doll that hadn't been painted yet. Jack Frost had started to paint him the way he always painted the maple leaf forever. He had just begun. On his hair a few red strokes. And then Jack Frost had dropped the brush and left him white forever. The gracious royal couples were warm in red and ermine. Their feet were well wrapped up in the ladies ermine trains. They invited Arthur to be the smallest page at court. But how could Arthur go Clutching his tiny lily with his eyes shut up so tight and the road steep in snow. 3:14 Wes: Really great. You should try to say, stood a stuffed loon, shot and stuffed three times really fast. 3:22 Erin: I know. 3:24 Wes: Stood a stuffed loon, shot and stuffed. What kind of people put. I was gonna say taxonomy. That's not right. What's the word for stuffed? 3:33 Erin: Taxidermy. 3:34 Wes: Taxidermy. Taxidermy. At a funeral or at a viewing or whatever it is. It's a little insensitive, don't you think? A little. Uncle Arthur fired a bullet into him and it's like, wait, did Uncle Arthur kill the little boy or did he kill the loon? Sorry. 3:53 Erin: I know. What is this connection? Yeah, I mean, I think this is the invasion of death into the normal. You know, the normal life of the domestic scene. So this loon is ordinarily there in some kind of Canadian flowchart going down from the. You know, the British royal family to the stuffed loon on the table. 4:15 Wes: Canadian flow chart. Canada is pretty far down the chart. 4:23 Erin: But in the accident of proximity, you know, some really interesting kind of mental association is happening. Which sort of. Everything in the poem operates through this kind of association. I think even between the different stanzas. This is a poem of 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 stanzas of 10 lines each. Short lines. They're trimeter lines. I just was noticing a lot of sort of surprisingly logical jumps. And, of course, it occupies, for the most part, the child's mind. Or it's kind of like a tunnel view where you have the adult looking through the mind of the child looking at the scene. So that kind of associative logic is childlike as well. Like, there must be something that Arthur has to do with these pictures on the wall, though. I actually think that that connection with Arthur being a page at court must have been suggested by the mother. That's at least my reading, because it's immediately refuted by the child with that. But. And that logical refutation which suggests that the mother said, oh, Arthur's going off to be page. Of course, I guess the mothers also made the association between Arthur and these images. I don't know. 5:31 Wes: I hadn't thought of that. But it's a very poignant moment whether or not that's been put into her head by an adult or whether she's just thought of that herself as if the royal scene represented part of heaven or something like that. But in the beginning. Let's talk about these chromographs. And I looked this up, and it's. Technically, they're what there's a different word for this. And I forgot. 5:56 Erin: Chromolithography. 5:57 Wes: Yes. Okay. Chromolithograph. These very colorful pictures in contrast to the whiteness of the boy and the loon. Although I guess he's still got a little color. We'll talk about. You might have to explain that to me a little bit, but. Yeah. What is the. Maybe we should speak of this. The general significance and the specific significance. Why do people have these representations of royalty in their homes? It's a very middle class sort of thing. I remember my older sister, who's like 11 years older than me, who we, you know, we all lived in England and Ireland and she went to school in England and she had an English accent by the time she came to the United States. But she had all these little pewter figures of all the royalty in England. And it's kind of a little. A single. I don't know what you call it. You know, kind of little shelves that you put on the wall, small, small pewter figurines, but all in a. All the king, all the royalty, and a little. Whoever lived in a little house together, so to speak. I don't think they'd get along very well. They didn't, but. What is that? I don't know if this is a trite question. It's like I'm asking what the fascination with royalty is, but we kind of know that. But you know what I mean. 7:05 Erin: Well, I have something in common with your sister. I do love souvenirs of Tudor royalty, at least. And I do have a couple of things from the Queen's Jubilee, because I was over there, luckily, right after her jubilee, when all this stuff was being sold. And then shortly thereafter, she passed away. So I picked up a few things. I do like them. I think the important thing is that these are colored. I mean, the color is an important part of the last stanza. But I think that for the most part, these chromographs or chromolithographs, a lot of times they were, I guess, like hand painted. The really well done ones could be mistaken for art, for a painting. And so that made them a little bit suspicious, I think. But also they were used because they're so highly colored. They were used in things like advertisements, like tourist advertisements showing a beautiful view of someplace. And they were also used in children's books, so an illustrated book of maybe fairy stories or something that would appeal to children. I think that association in particular is what's prevalent here. 8:08 Wes: Right. 8:08 Erin: The child's name is Arthur. He's also a junior. So this sort of idea of faint idea of succession and these images on the wall which are obviously part of British Canadian culture, this is. Their monarch is still very distant at the same time. So. And that distance perhaps creating a kind of mythology or the desire to have these people say artificially close. The only way that they. That a Canadian would be likely to see these. These royal figures is through one of these chromographs. And I think that that idea of distance and closeness as well as of hot and cold, the hot and cold poles in Bishop are really important. Right. And even in this book, the book itself, Questions of Travel, which I mentioned has these two sections which are kind of like poles, Brazil and elsewhere. There's a hot and cold association between those two. 9:04 Wes: Right. 9:04 Erin: Brazil being the hot place and elsewhere as just a general marker of some kind of remote other being cold. I started to read this whole poem through that kind of vector with cold associated with remoteness and heat with closeness. Of course, not a groundbreaking connection, but you have this idea of these people on the wall who you want to keep close. But as we'll see again and again in the poem, art objects are kind of suspect and maybe they promise a closeness which is in fact really a distance. 9:40 Wes: Yeah. And in this case. Right. It's the. I'm not sure if this is what you're suggesting, but you know, as a Canadian, you might want to say, look, I have roots in the. In the old country. 9:49 Erin: Right. 9:50 Wes: In America we're proud of rebelling. We don't think, let's put royalty on our walls. So maybe some people do. But in Canada, despite the difference and the distance, you know, you could think, well, I'm still connected to the motherland in some important way. I guess I was thinking of this when you said the false closeness that it promises. Right. So this is a connection to ancestry, I guess, and genetic ancestry and cultural ancestry. And arguably it's probably not that important. Maybe I'm overstating that now I'm thinking of, oh, wait a minute, what about English common law and how important it is in the United States? And I. I don't know. Right. But there's this promise. So the, the heaven parallel that I'm noting that I think comes later, as if the. In death you're right, you're going to return to the court here. You're going to return to this higher up realm. Right. It's royalty. So it's also higher up, like heaven. And it's. There's lots of parallels. We could say to divinity. And they are the royalty, after all, are supposed to be established by divine right. So to go become a page there is analogous to being a little angel and going up to heaven. So. But the picture on the wall is suggestive of a destination for the one who's deceased. And it's a destination which is very colorful in contrast to the, you know, the whiteness of the deceased, although it has little, you know, he, the little boy apparently has some color in his hair. I don't really understand that part, but we'll get to it. And then the loon has the red eyes and the. So there is. That's. There's a. In there. Limned L, I, M, N. Is that right? Limned with color? A little bit. And maybe it's a little bit painted on in the way it is with a chromolithograph, something like that. But yeah, this is what you made me think of when you're talking about the. Was it the false promise of the aesthetic object or the promise of closeness that you can't really get? I don't know if this is related to what you're saying. 11:50 Erin: Absolutely. Yeah, yeah. The false promise of closeness or the false idea that through the aesthetic object you can achieve a kind of closeness with. With what? I don't know. I mean, I suppose with certain sets of abstractions. Right. Like what you're referring to. Heritage, national identity, you know, in keeping with that too, or in a further, you know, nod to that desire for proximity to heritage in England. The boy's name is Arthur, which, you know, there couldn't be a more resonant English name than that. And obviously the fact that his name is Arthur and he's been struck down, we don't know by what. Maybe the flu. Right, exactly. 12:31 Wes: Also a very royal name. 12:32 Erin: Right. But, you know, the combination of this boy's name with the position that he's in obviously is full of pathos. That seems to me to be a gesture. Not that Arthur isn't a common name already, but there's the fact that his father is Arthur and there's this, like I said, idea of succession that seems to be an invocation of a kind or self conscious gesture that a person who is really into royalty and whose name happens to be Arthur, who perhaps inherited, you know, being really into royalty from his father, names his son Arthur as well. And then, as you suggest with that last stanza, where Arthur goes and imaginatively joins the court as a royal page, the speaker's imagination, or in the mother's imagination, which she has then infused in the girl, the speaker, that is a fairy story. A further. A further kind of aestheticized or artistic, if you will, kind of idea that's contrasted with the cold reality, which is that they're in Canada, the streets are full of snow. He can't get there. You know, not to mention that he's also dead. And so there's the desire through imagination to give Arthur proximity to royalty and warmth and to all of these values and the reality that these are. That this is a false promise or this is a false association to be making or flight of fancy. 13:55 Wes: Yeah. So also. Yeah. You're making me think the coldness of Canada and the snowiness of Canada further accentuates the being cut off from the motherland, so to speak. And the images of color are like a way of. Like the colorful images are represent an overcoming of that distance, the distance between Canada and England. And in a way, the settlers, the. Is that what you call them, immigrants? They're more than immigrants, though, I guess. They're settlers from England, the people who settled Canada. Any. Right. In a way, they've been cast off and in some cases. Right. They were fleeing persecution maybe. I don't know. It's not like Australia is a penal colony. 14:42 Erin: Right, Right. And it's not. It's not like America either, where the 14:46 Wes: Puritans were trying to get out of there. I mean, some of it is about opportunity, but I don't know specifically the history of Canada, but just feeling of being like an orphaned child, maybe. Right. The death of the child here becomes resonant with the position of someone who's cut off from the. From the motherland and the more colorful origin. Something like that. But I like the way she. Right. We learn of her relationship to him. Right. To Arthur. Without her mentioning herself or the fact that he's her cousin. Right. I have to do the math to figure out if that's right. 15:27 Erin: No, that's right. 15:28 Wes: And that's stuffed by Uncle Arthur, Arthur's father. And I like. I really like that. What is it? Enjambment. 15:37 Erin: Yes. 15:38 Wes: And then also you get the relationship on the other side between uncle and father. Anyway, so we learn of her relationship without any direct mention of it. 15:48 Erin: Let's scroll back just a little bit, though, because I want to dig in actually, just to those first two lines because I think they support your point. 15:55 Wes: Yeah. It's very unusual for us to be past the first two lines. 15:59 Erin: Right. 16:01 Wes: Three minute mark. So you back us up. 16:03 Erin: Right. In the cold, cold parlor, which I've got to Say that this is the first poem that actually induced the realization for me that parlor is a very cold word. And ever since then, I've thought of parlor as a cold word. I want to talk about that with. With loon as well, which is a word which is aerated. You know, it has holes in it for the wind to blow through or something. So parlor is a cold word. And obviously we're going to get several images of the domestic space being quite cold, I think, not only because of the fact that it's obviously the dead of winter, but that there's something going on here because my mother laid out Arthur. And then the only two living figures in the poem are the speaker and the mother. Uncle Arthur is referred to, but he's not present. The mother is laying out the body of the boy. For obvious reasons, one would think that the parents of Arthur are actually absent from this scene out of grief. Right. But they're elsewhere. Which is, again, I think it speaks somehow to this idea of heritage or this strange thing that's happening with Fatherland Father Ness. You know, there's a sort of. Maybe there's a guilt that is suggested with the loon, but there. But there's an absence. And so then there's also this idea that grief brings closeness. Right. The mother has to touch Arthur, lay out his body. The speaker is instructed to hand the lily of the valley to Arthur and say goodbye to him, and to speak to him as if he is alive. But then also, of course, the alienation and the distance of grief and death, which is suggested by the absence of Arthur's parent. 17:44 Wes: Well, I want to repeat what I said in the beginning. If I were laying out a body, I might take the stuffed dead animal that happens to be in the room and move it somewhere else. Seems a little bit insensitive. So I think maybe that sensitivity. 18:00 Erin: But, I mean, it's interesting to consider why. 18:03 Wes: Because I don't want to draw any. Draw, like, any sort of comparison between the dead boy and the dead animal. 18:11 Erin: But don't you think that. Very insensitivity. I mean, stuffed, it's used twice. It's quite violent in a way. 18:17 Wes: Yeah. And I think this is the other point I was gonna make is that, well, hunting, it's the sport of kings, right? It's the recreation of royalty. Horseback and fox and, you know, the typical tropes here. Right. And. And maybe I've seen too much Game of Thrones where, you know, it's. Yeah, it's a mark of royalty in the sense, to some extent, if you have that much power and wealth. You've escaped necessity. Necessity, meaning what we have to do to survive. That represents a more primitive condition that we're no longer in yet. The royals can voluntarily return to that and treat it as a form of recreation. So I think that that's significant. And then the other part of this is that, yeah, the boy is placed in parallel to the stuffed loon who has been killed by hunting. And we get that, you know, Arthur fired a bullet into him, and we have to figure out that it's not the little boy, it's the loon that has to have the bullet fired into it. So I think there's a purposeful confusion or parallel between the boy and the loon. And the effect in the beginning of the poem is to say somehow he's a victim of this royal space or whatever it is, this royal thing, and at the end of it, he needs to return to it. Or that's what his afterlife might. What might constitute his afterlife. 19:39 Erin: I think you're definitely right. But as you were talking, another reading of why the Loon is There occurred to me, which is that it would be deliberately left there to be. This is a little wacky. But to be in attendance at the. No, no, no, hear me out. I know it's stupid. The loon is the symbol of Canada, one of the symbols. And we also have the royal figures. So it interestingly reverses the ending idea of Arthur serving at court, where here they are in attendance at his funeral, in a way. So we have the British royalty, the symbol of Canada. I mean, it's gruesome and bizarre and very. 20:20 Wes: No, as you said, that I just had this image of me, my own funeral and someone putting my stuffed cat. Oh, no. 20:29 Erin: Well, hey, that's very. 20:30 Wes: In the casket with me. 20:32 Erin: Yeah, 20:34 Wes: right. She could attend. Attend to me for. Be in attendance with me forever. 20:40 Erin: But, yeah, it's also worth saying, and I don't know if I mentioned this before, but there's, you know, with hot and cold polarities in questions of travel. We just had a bunch of poems about Brazil. And obviously Brazilians have gregarious nature, et cetera. The Maritimes, at least, perhaps Canada more generally. I don't know. I only know from, like, Anne of Green Gables that the Maritimes are very strongly associated with a characteristic reserve. So there's also a kind of. Right. Which is very British, obviously. So I think British Canadians would identify with a kind of Canadian reserve. So there's a kind of stiff quality and of course, a coldness. Right. Associated with Reserve as well. Which might think that a stuffed bird has to salute at the 21:33 Wes: dead comrade offending the Canadians. Erin, don't you know there are enemies? So. 21:38 Erin: Yeah, please, please. 21:40 Wes: I love. 21:40 Erin: I love Canadians. I really hope I'm not miscarry. I think this is. I think this is well known. 21:46 Wes: Yeah. Animals at funerals and. 21:49 Erin: No, no, no, I don't. I'm just saying. I'm just saying. I think this is a particularly weird. Obviously particularly weird, formal kind of family. I know plenty of very warm Canadians. It's more of a historical association. The same way that we would associate, historically, the British with being more. More reserved, say, Pre World War II, pre 60s, whatever. Pre Diana's death. I don't know. Anyway, I'm gonna get myself into trouble. Please, Canadians, I love you. I really do. I'm sorry. I'm sorry to truck in these stereotypes if I am. 22:23 Wes: I think Canadians are used to being loved or at least liked because they're so likable. 22:27 Erin: They are. But they're also ignored and wrongfully so because we're just the most obnoxious youngest child on earth. Getting all the attention now. 22:38 Wes: You're just buttering up the Canadians now. 22:40 Erin: No, that's how I really feel. And I feel really bad about. I just feel really embarrassed as an American, obviously. 22:46 Wes: Yeah, sure. 22:47 Erin: Not to get political anyway, so I 22:49 Wes: think it is quite funny, you know, since Uncle Arthur fired a bullet in him. He hadn't said a word. It's funny whether or not you have to stop to think about whether that's the boy or the. The loon. But then there's a turn here to really a great image of the loon keeping his own counsel. So that. That cold temperature. Right? So we get a number of associations here between lack of color and coldness and the frozenness. But also the frozenness of the body, right, that is no longer alive. But now we get an association with that and reserve, you know, the kind of reserve that you were talking about, which can be contemplativeness. He kept his own counsel. So the. Yeah, the bird hadn't said a word. The bird is the word. No, the bird hadn't said a word. And since it was killed, of course, it never could have said a word. But now that becomes keeping his own counsel, giving this image of contemplativeness, right? There's a depth to the breast that is white and cold and caressible. And then there's a little turn at the end where the. You have the eyes that are red glass. So a bit of color standing out here in something white and then desire, which is another shift right from contemplativeness. Now this little touch of desire that's been added to that frozen white contemplative image. It's a line that at least, yeah, it was unexpected for me and I don't know. Yeah. What is much to be desired here. 24:26 Erin: I did a little bit of research into children's marble games and the red marbles were highly desired by children. I worked this out. Obviously, if Bishop's mother is in the poem, it has to be before she was committed, when Bishop was 5 years old. So I would estimate since Bishop was born in 1911, that this is taking place around 1915. Say she's four years old and she's. Or maybe she's newly five. I don't know. I think three would be a little young for what goes on in the poem. But we're talking about a four, maybe five year old girl who may be, if not playing marble games because she doesn't have the dexterity, maybe kind of collecting them because they were also sort of desirable, just as collectible objects at this time. I should also scroll back and say just in passing that if this is dated around 1915, Edward, Prince of Wales, Princess Alexandra, King George and Queen Mary. These represent three generations of royalty actually. So there is kind of a heritage happening even within the chromographs on the wall. There's so much going on here because of this conflict between cold and the warmth of touch. As if cold things are calling out for something to warm them up. So the cold breast of the bird is actually calling out for touch somehow. And the caress would then warm the feathers of the bird. Obviously cold marbles haven't been touched for a while, are going to get warmed up by the heat of one's hand. I don't know if you had marbles as a kid, but I used to like to run my hand over the tops of. You know, like if you had a bag of marbles, you put your hand in and you like that cold feeling. There's kind of that yin yang there. There's the yin yang of fired and the dead bird. So the act of killing is a kind of a warm act. There's a hot, cold association there. There's the fact that the loon, which is an aquatic bird and of course it's associated with Canada, so it's used to frozen lakes. Yet at the same time there's an obvious barrier being created by the imaginative frozenness so that the loon can't dive under the water. Or would have to find, you know, would have to break through the ice or find a way to get into the water in order to do its aquatic bird thing. I read online that these loons actually can't really walk very well because their legs are so far back for swimming purposes that on land they kind of like stumble around. And so they really are only made for water. And here we have this, the frozen lake, which is kind of. Kind of barrier between them and their natural habitat. A cold barrier. And then the red glass, obviously, red being a hot color again. And red will return again and again. But this is the loons real eyes, of course, they've been replaced with glass in the taxidermy process. But loons in real life have red eyes. Very striking red eyes. And these are obviously, you know, these marbles chosen to resemble the loon's eyes in life. So a lot going on here that I think, then kind of coalesces in the rest of the poem. 27:34 Wes: So it's interesting here that death can induce this kind of desire. And I mean, not just death, but the static, contemplative image created by the preserved loon. Right. The frozen, stuffed, dead loon. Right. It doesn't just leave you uninterested. It creates interest and you want to caress it. In that case, it's clear what you want to do with your desire. But in the case of the eyes, it's. That's left vague. You know, they're much to be desired. Although I like your explanation in terms of marbles. Right. We might just want to possess the things that the eyes are made of here. And they're like gemstones. Can think of that as another royal association. So something about death and frozenness can induce a kind of desire, which is odd, right? Because of killing something or when something is dead for that thing, it's the cessation of desire. But just to go back to hunting and royalty, Right. If you're above necessity and the need for survival, it's an interesting sort of occupation to curate death. Right. To hunt for sport and to then preserve those dead objects. As if to keep them alive forever. But to keep them alive forever in a dead state. And as if to bring the natural world into the living room or into your home in general. When, of course, to be natural is to be growing and alive truly. So maybe this says something about your talk of the aesthetic object. Or maybe it says something about representation in general and the limits of representation. So we do a little bit of taxidermy, maybe even in poetry, I don't know. If that really works. But certainly whether it's chromographs or other forms of representation, of course they leave the real thing behind and the representation itself is not alive, at least in the same sense. 29:37 Erin: Right. I was thinking actually, as you were talking about the warmth of desire being related to the appetitive, you know, and what you've talked about so often with art and the appetitive. We want to caress the bird, we want to touch the. Right. There's something about these art objects which are, which are, you know, I'm calling the taxidermied loon an art object merely because I think in this maybe middle class home, Right. These are these and the chromographs, you know, not top tier art objects or meant as art objects. But yeah, the heat of desire. And yet in relation to art, we always come up against a barrier that keeps us from. I think this is. Right. I don't know if I like what I'm saying because traditionally my argument would be art creates closeness or that you can, you know, through. Through the written word especially. There's. There's a way in which the written word can enter you and, and have. Make that connection that way. Or that it actually needs you to warm it up. Right. It needs you. It needs you to read it in order for it to live. 30:38 Wes: Yeah. 30:39 Erin: Say a painting. A painting in fact, is going to degrade if you touch it. You can admire it from afar, but it's only ever going to be a kind of false promise. I don't like this argument either. 30:54 Wes: The Kantian view, not just Kant, but many others, is that there's aesthetic interest is disinterested because it's an interest in the form. So the appetitive involves wanting to do something with the object. So if it's an apple, if it's a real apple, I want to eat it. That's the form of desire that is induced by the apple. But if it's an aesthetic object, I don't have that kind of appetite. Right. The painting of the apple, if I enjoy it, it's not that I want to eat it, it's something about the form, it's something about the representation. And so we can see a clear parallel here. Whatever kind of desire the loon is inducing, it's not the desire to kill it that the hunters had at one point or the desire to eat it. So that there's something here like the aesthetic, but it's still a kind of desire. And maybe, maybe the. The talk of wanting to write the desirable red glass Eyes. One might cross the line there and say, actually, yeah, I just want to pluck. I just want to pluck the red glass out because that's valuable and I want to possess it. Or the desire to caress. Right. That's not a. That's not an aesthetic relation. Exactly right. You would want to caress a living thing out of affection. But it may say something. The use of that metaphor may say something about the aesthetic which is a bit warmer. Right. Than the word disinterest would have us think. Disinterest is always a little bit of a misleading word, but so the relationship to the aesthetic object is, of course, complicated. 32:29 Erin: Right. Well, and as I said, I do think there is this. This charge between cold, maybe especially cold, smooth things, and us where we desire to touch. You know, sometimes even a statue that looks particularly smooth, you know, it almost invites touch in that way. 32:44 Wes: What about a frosted cake? 32:46 Erin: Should we have frosted cake? Yes. 32:48 Wes: Yeah, we'll get to that next time. All right? 32:49 Erin: Right, yes. So next time we'll get through the last three stanzas. We're halfway through, more or less. So next time we will finish our discussion of First Death in Nova Scotia. Thank you, Wes. 33:01 Wes: Thank you.

    • Transcript
  • August 24 · 42 min

    A Map-Like Imagination in the Poetry of Elizabeth Bishop (“The Moose,” Part 2)

    A poem about a map opens North and South, the first collection of the great twentieth century poet Elizabeth Bishop, and since, maps have been associated with her poetic vision—at once telescoping and binocular—and with the polarities and preoccupations of her work. The map’s privileged, sweeping, bird’s eye view of the earth is also hand-held, man-made, intimate. Depending on its level of minuteness or obsession, it can contain the tiniest details as well as, let’s say, the whole enchilada. And though it purports to be scientific and objective, it is representational and therefore subjective, particular, imaginative, and personal. For several episodes, Wes & Erin will be reading a selection of some of Bishop’s most anthologized poems, starting with “The Moose” as expressions of, among other things, her map-like imagination. Upcoming Episodes: Nolan’s adaptation of “The Odyssey”; more Elizabeth Bishop poetry: “First Death in Nova Scotia,” “One Art.” Pre-order Erin’s forthcoming book “Avail” here: http://subtextpodcast.com/avail For bonus content, become a paid subscriber at Patreon or directly on the Apple Podcasts app. Patreon subscribers also get early access to ad-free regular episodes. Also from Wes: Curtain Times, a calendar of Boston theatre, classical, talks and readings. Follow: Twitter | Facebook | Website Transcript 0:11 Erin: Welcome to part two of our discussion of the poems of Elizabeth Bishop. We are currently about. Oh, I'm okay. I'm proud of us. We're just about halfway through the Moose. That's not bad compared to our usual record. We're not halfway through stanza one. We're going. You know, it's about a bus trip. It's encouraging us to pick up the pace a little bit and get to our next stop. So we were just going to pick up with the woman in stanza 13 climbing into the bus. 0:41 Wes: Before you say that, I just want to make one little observation. 0:44 Erin: Oh, sure. 0:45 Wes: Just that we get right as soon as the light goes out, it's then that we get the barking of a dog and the smell of salt. First it's the smell of salt hay and then it's the barking of a dog. So smell is introduced. And is that the first time sound is really introduced in any. You know, we get the bus starting and all that, but I think that's right. It's very visual up to that point, I think. And then as soon as we lose the light, we get these new sensory modalities. The collie just supervised this dog, gives us a nice bark, and presumably we can't even see him. We just hear him. So I just love that. I just. I love the transition into darkness. It's so. 1:26 Erin: Yeah. 1:26 Wes: I don't know how else to say it. 1:28 Erin: Yeah. 1:28 Wes: And it's then that we. This really is the midpoint of the poem because now we're going to make this transition into the world of the bus, I guess. As the woman climbs in, we have 1:41 Erin: the ship's port lantern, as you said, being an indication that it's now nearly or fully dark outside. 1:47 Wes: She says red light swims through the dark. 1:50 Erin: Yeah. I'm assuming that at this point a bus would have some form of illumination, at least for when it's stopped and the doors open for people getting on and off the bus. Right. It would. It would light up on the inside interior. Yeah. 2:03 Wes: Yeah. 2:03 Erin: Or at least maybe it would stop, certainly if it were stopping at a station or a little, you know, whatever those things are called. Those little. Yeah, there's a word for it. 2:14 Wes: We need something to see the freckles by. 2:16 Erin: Right. We need something. Exactly. But wherever they would be stopping would have some form of street light illumination or something of that order. Anyway. 2:26 Wes: But it's interesting you say this, because I didn't picture a bus station at any point in this. And I just imagine people along the side of the road. 2:34 Erin: Right. But if it were a course, it 2:38 Wes: couldn't be that way. 2:39 Erin: Well, I don't think it's a station. I think it would be a stop with a. You know, like a lean to. You know, what are those things that just. 2:44 Wes: Yeah, sure. 2:45 Erin: That just protect you from the elements. 2:47 Wes: Yeah. Bust down. 2:48 Erin: Right. 2:48 Wes: Yeah. 2:49 Erin: And that would probably have at least a street light. But anyway, then we get the moonlight. Maybe my favorite. Oh, it's so hard to say, but maybe my favorite image in the poem is the hairy, scratchy, splintery moonlight and mist caught in them like lambswool on bushes in a pasture. Just. There's nothing. There's no image greater than that. That's unbelievable. 3:13 Wes: There's kind of a more wildness to this. Right. The image now, the hairiness and scratchiness and splinteriness. It's a bit less Domesticated, I guess, than the previous part of the poem. 3:27 Erin: That's a really good point. I hadn't thought of that. Even a suggestion of danger, like the lamb running. 3:34 Wes: I just thought, this is where the hobbits are entering Fangorn Forest. 3:39 Erin: Yes. Yeah, yeah, the New Brunswick. 3:41 Wes: But you go a little bit more. It's a little wilder and more primal. I think once you. Even if you're on a bus, once you get into the woods, there's something different about it. 3:52 Erin: That's right. 3:53 Wes: But yeah, you're right. The idea that the moonlight could get caught in that. That's a great image. 3:59 Erin: Something giving chase to the lamb would cause it potentially to get a little ensnared in the chase. 4:06 Wes: It's as if Lambswool has, you know, a lamb is brushed up on the bramble or whatever and left its wool so that. So the moonlight, instead of making this cosmic journey and landing on articulating the environment, has been subordinated to the environment. Right. It's become. It's been captured by these hairy woods. It's caught on it and, you know, a piece of it has come off from being caught on something that's scratchy and splintery. So that. That. Yeah, this is the great reversal. And that's the place where you can really get some good sleeping. Yes, right. 4:44 Erin: Yes. And where dreamy things can happen. 4:47 Wes: Divagation. Yeah, wanderings. 4:51 Erin: I looked that up. Wandering, straying or digressing from a main course, path or topic. So like a digression as long as 4:59 Wes: the bus stays on track. 5:00 Erin: Yeah, that's right. 5:01 Wes: You do whatever you want with your mind. 5:02 Erin: That's right. And the night. I just looked on Google Maps while I was writing my little notes in the margins. And if you were to take a bus today from Great Village to Boston, it would take like 10 hours. So it definitely is a, yikes, full course of the night on this night bus. So I love what happens in stanza 16, which begins in the creakings and noises, an old conversation not concerning us, but recognizable somewhere back in the bus. So I really love that it's grandparents voices, she says, uninterrupted talking. This is where the I becomes an us. And this is a characteristic of a bishop. I think she's rather reluctant to use an I, capital I in a poem. She's more likely to use a we or an us. And here it's as if they're all part of the same family now in the bus and the adults. It's almost like everybody on the bus who isn't a grandparent is a child and the adults in the back are talking and we are all, oh, that doesn't concern us. Just go to sleep. It's none of your business. Just stop eavesdropping on us. Right, so there's some community that's been formed already by the people who are not the grandparents talking. Do you get that impression? 6:20 Wes: Yeah, it's a bit confusing. So, yeah, let's try to figure it out. Because it. So it begins. A dreamy divagation begins in the night. She doesn't say, I started dreaming or they started dreaming or we started dreaming. Although it seems almost like it's collective. Right. So that the bus is dreaming or everyone on the bus is dreaming together, which kind of lines up with the not concerning us later on, the gentle auditory slow hallucination. So that's a very interesting idea. Right. The dream is usually associated with subjectivity. Right. The cogito and Descartes. Right. The dream tells us that we might have trouble distinguishing reality from what's in our own minds. And we in our own minds are very potentially cut off from reality. But it's a. It's an alienated individual position here. The dream is. Seems to be collective. And perhaps it's collective because it's partly real. Right. Is that the conversation? I thought, okay, there's a conversation going on in the back of the bus and it is old people talking. But as you're lying back, you could sort of. You can't hear exactly what they're saying. And you might have that kind of half dream, Right. Where you're. The dream is kind of lined up with or intertwined with what's going on in reality. So she's hearing in the conversation of the old people, her grandparents voices. Is that the way you took this? Or. Or they, they're hearing the grandparents voices or. Yeah. How do we, how do we interpret this? 7:54 Erin: I interpreted it as, you know, people of the age of grandparents having a real conversation. But the idea that one could be having an auditory. I mean, we are given the word auditory slow hallucination. So the idea that there could be an auditory hallucination or kind of half dream of one's own grandparents having a conversation, or it may be superimposed on a real conversation kind of inaudible going on on the bus. I never noticed this before. The G in grandparents is capitalized. So it does seem to sit to suggest the speaker's particular grandparents rather than. 8:30 Wes: Oh, I was going to. I thought you were going to say archetypal grandparents. 8:34 Erin: Oh, yeah, I suppose it could be yeah, it could be read that way, too. I think all of these things are true, right? 8:40 Wes: Yeah. 8:40 Erin: I mean, the image works because of the, shall we say, universal particularity of this experience. 8:47 Wes: The ordinary way to write the poem would be to. And a much simpler way would be to put this in her point of view and not try to put it into a collective point of view. But that seems to be what she's doing. 8:59 Erin: Yes. The effectiveness, though, I think is the. And it could just be the speaker's perception of it, but the atmospheric quality, because everyone on the bus is going to share an experience shortly, but already they are sharing an experience and a kind of atmosphere that they're all listening to the hum and having that. You know, when you're in the car and you. Maybe when you're a kid and you put your ear up against, like, the. The car door or the window or something, and you hear orchestral music. I don't know if you ever had that. I used to always hear classical music when I would put my head up. 9:38 Wes: Yeah, I don't think I have that. 9:40 Erin: All kinds of. And I always think, like, I should write this down. But you always have, like, a hallucination of an orchestra playing songs. Different songs. Sometimes like fantastical songs. Yeah. You know, my particular experience maybe doesn't quite get at the. Yeah. The sense that this is shared. 9:57 Wes: Well, you're put into a kind of dreamy state, and yet you're getting at the auditory hallucination part. I mean, for me, I think, as a child, and this, I think, is very evocative of childhood. It's something about being half asleep or falling asleep. You're on a journey and there are adults in the car and there's some. Maybe some sense of safety, I think is very relevant to this poem. But being ensconced in the world of adults and not quite alone when you do this thing, which is potentially very lonely, which is go to sleep. And of course, a lot of kids don't want to go to sleep because that loneliness factor. But it's a much different experience if you're traveling. You're all on the way to something together. And of course, you're with people who are awake and, you know, are going 10:45 Erin: to be awake, maybe because the kids are falling asleep. Their. Their voices are lowered and softer. And maybe that also contributes Right. To the. The way in which. That lulls the children in the back simply because they're aware of not wanting to talk too loudly. Certainly that would be the case on a bus like this, where they're Having a conversation where they're talking in. In lower voices and maybe actually inducing that calm and hum for sleep in the people, the other people in the bus who aren't talking. 11:15 Wes: And the question is, what are the adults doing with their talk? Right. It's not going to work if your parents are just fighting. In this case, it's the grandparents. Voices are clearing things up and I guess bringing certain things to resolution, coming to terms with these losses. But a lot of it does sound a bit gossipy and not necessarily like the most comforting. 11:39 Erin: Yes. Yeah. 11:39 Wes: Sort of talk we could imagine. Yeah. 11:41 Erin: Well, you know, in a situation like this where you might be a child in this car, could be that you're coming back from whatever, like a, like a late night and then the adults in the car are working through whatever has just happened over the course of the night. And. Oh no, she was the one who had that long. Yeah. Who had the criminal record because of that thing, remember where they. Oh, yeah, yeah. That was like 20 years ago. So you sort of get that. But for an entire family history going back ages and ages, talking in eternity. Deaths, deaths and sicknesses. The year he remarried, the year something happened. Oh, yeah, what year was that? Right. Something about the journey afterwards or maybe away from home. If these people are also. If their home is Nova Scotia and they're departing it, you know, then there's that backwards looking quality where something about the idea of the journey and moving away from the place is giving the opportunity to then take stock and look back. So there's this sort of like dual action happening in the poem where the further the bus goes, the further back they're kind of looking from deaths and sicknesses to then remarriage and then childbirth. Son lost when the schooner foundered. 12:58 Wes: These are all very blue collar tragedies, right? 13:00 Erin: Yes. 13:01 Wes: He was arrested for insider trading. 13:04 Erin: No, but I mean, you know, there's a reverse order to what's happening, you know, so we get. We have death, then sickness, then remarriage, then dying in childbirth. So there's a rewind is what I mean. Yeah. 13:17 Wes: Well, we come back in the end to death. The way it's all summed up. 13:20 Erin: Insider trading. Sorry. 13:23 Wes: Huh? 13:24 Erin: Sorry, Just insider trading. That really is funny. 13:31 Wes: And he had an affair. No. A sharp indrawn breath. Half groan, half acceptance. That means life's like that. We know it. Also death, you know, and then the question, what does also death mean there? Death knows it, we also know death. But it, you know, it made me wonder at various points I wondered. Well, Is this an element here of a journey to the underworld or to the afterlife? Maybe it's a job not claiming that that's strong thematic part of this, but maybe a hint of that type of thing. Because the journey, I mean, and it does seem like journeys are good places for this or like when I travel, it produces in me a very different state of mind. And I do find it very calming in a way, you know, especially actually being on the train or something like that, because you're in between two different locations and you maybe you're not caught up in the expectations or the constricting qualities of any particular location. If I'm at home, I have to do this and that work, or if I'm at a destination, then I'm dealing with relatives or I have to be a tourist or something like that. But there's something liberating about being in between two locations. So it does seem like a place for this type of dreamy hallucination or this reflection or this clearing of things up. It's almost like therapy. Right? That's what all of this sounds like. People are talking through their problems, but where is it that they get to in the end here? The half groan, half acceptance. So it's not fully acceptance. It sums things up with this, maybe a degree of resignation. So yeah, I don't know. What do you make of the stanza? 15:15 Erin: Well, they're traveling west significantly. Right. I do take a lot of this to be a kind of, say, pre figurement of death, even though at the same time the fact that they're in the woods, the fact that not to jump ahead too much, the fact that the moose will come out of the woods and appear notably in the middle of the road, there is a suggestion of middle age or middleness, or midway in the journey of our life, I found myself within a dark forest. So I think it works both ways, or perhaps it's working in several ways simultaneously for the various passengers. So maybe the speaker is experiencing something more akin to the Dante esque middle of the journey on the bus. And something about the bus journey is also, symbolically speaking, a kind of final bus journey for some of the other passengers. And that intersection seems significant, but I don't know how, just in the sense that there's a retrospective quality happening or maybe even a reversion to childhood that goes on for the speaker and the other people in the bus by virtue of the propinquity to these old people at the end of their life's journey. Because there is very little about middleness Here, come to think of it, other than the moose appearing in the middle of the road. Right. It seems that the other people on the bus are like children and the grandparents are the adults. 16:50 Wes: I mean, I think part of what's comforting when we're children is that feeling that adults know the answers and that adults know how to cope with all the dangers and have experience doing that and therefore can protect us. The reality, of course, as we realize as we get older, is that that's not true. So what they may have is more of this acceptance that's sort of highlighted in this stanza, which is potentially a good thing, but maybe a double edged sword because it does seem to be a form of dying. It does seem to be a form of the very thing that we want to be protected from. 17:30 Erin: There's also, though, that. What I used to call my mom, the external hard drive. I used to say back before she. 17:42 Wes: She liked that. 17:44 Erin: I think now it would make her sad because she'll say, you know, very openly that she. Her memory is gone. But it used to be that she knew all the, you know, you could ask her who said that at that one. You know, there's that kind of. I mean, that's a sort of jokey, gossipy scorekeeping thing that she would keep tabs on. But there's also just the idea of long memory being the history keeper, the record keeper, the, you know, and there's sort of settling accounts over the course of this conversation. Oh, right, it was that year. Okay. And then this happened and then, then that happened. And that's important too, I think, for, you know, it situates children in a context. Not just say this idea of death that you're referring to, but also how to situate oneself in a life. 18:34 Wes: Right. 18:34 Erin: There's a. There's a sort of frame that the grandparents or the elder relatives have that whole history up until you enter the narrative and where you fit within that. We mentioned in part one a little bit about Bishop's family history just to kind of prefigure the types of story that she inserts, I think very significantly into the poem, particularly about poor Amos who just wouldn't stop praying in the store and had to be. Had to be put away. Right. Of course she does a gender swap, but yeah, we all have family stories like this, of this kind of unruly behavior or madness of some kind or other or some sort of family drama. 19:19 Wes: Yeah. So it's universal. But the way she captures it is very clever with this talk that we don't quite know whether it's just the conversation of the people, the old people at the back of the bus, or whether it's her dream or whether it's both or somewhere in between. They're interlaced, those two things. And that. That interlacing gets at this aspect of universality. Although I think by the time we get to the stanza where she's fantasizing about the grandparents and the featherbed, this, it start. Seems to become inescapably personal, which is why I think of the. The point of view is getting more and more focused. Right. With. With time. Yeah. And potentially it's still universal, but it seems almost like a personal memory. Right. So talking the way they talked in the old feather bed. Right. The way they. Her. Her grandparents presumably in the old feather bed, peacefully on and on. Dim lamp light in the hall, down in the kitchen, the dog tucked in her shaw. Shawl. Yeah, get another. And get another dog here. 20:28 Erin: I love this. 20:29 Wes: The collie, the barking dog. And. Yeah, so this, this stanza is wonderful. And it gets at exactly this thing that you've been talking about, which is the, like, comfort of being a kid overhearing adults talking. It really, despite this talk of death. Right. A reconciliation with death. This is the point. Seems to be the point of view of a child who finds this very comforting. And. Right. She'll say in the next stanza, now it's all right now even to fall asleep, just as on all those nights, the way in which the adult world and the safety of protective figures can make sleep okay to do. And then suddenly that's interrupted. 21:07 Erin: But I love too. I mean, yes, it's so particular, but it also just in this one stanza does so many things in miniature that the poem is doing all along, this telescoping in again to a scene which. Which even as a child, if it were her childhood in particular that she's referencing, she couldn't possibly know or see. She wouldn't be able to see the grandparents in their featherbed. She would have to be picturing them in the featherbed and she wouldn't be able to see the dog in the hall. And also I wonder if this. If the stanza in its operation is kind of doing. I mean, this is just occurring to me now, but maybe it's doing that kind of hallucinatory work that has prior been described where we actually get a remix of, you know, this is the third dog in the poem. But it's also the elements in the stanza are a kind of recapitulation of the light, the red light swimming, the port Lantern becomes the lamp light in the hall. We get the dog barking now becomes the dog curled up in the shawl. And then maybe even because we also get kitchen, maybe the shawl is even a kind of transposition of the table, tablecloth shook out. Right. So there's something actually in the stanza which has that hallucinatory quality that she's describing where these three elements swim in the imagination and then become the lamplight and the dog and the shawl in this half asleep kind of dream space. Maybe that's pushing things too far, but it does seem to be. It's the dreamiest stanza perhaps in the whole poem. Maybe the following one. Now it's all right now even to fall asleep. But this gets interrupted that next stanza. So this one, I think is the real depth of the dreamy or borderline dreamy or hallucinatory moment. 23:00 Wes: Yeah, this is great because it really underlines the way deviation creates the capacity for stasis or for comfort. So the deviation of a bus trip or of the dreaming. Right. Which is movement, which is dynamic and has that momentum, forward momentum that we were talking about, sort of underwrites or grounds this ability to. For stasis, for stopping, for going to sleep, for feeling comforted as a child and safe, I think. And I keep repeating that word because of the. What's going to happen. The use of the word that's going to happen in this poem later. But yeah, I'm not sure if you were saying that explicitly, but that's what came to mind my mind as you were talking. This. The way in which this journey, divagation, motion can ground something that's going to be more static or stationary, which is what we're going to get in the moose. Because it interrupts the. It explicitly interrupts the motion of the bus and the external line of the poem in a way that parallels the comfort that's produced by the dreaming. 24:08 Erin: Yeah. In stanza 22 is where we have that break that you're describing. The moose finally appears. Well, the moose doesn't appear until stanza 23 finally appears. 24:21 Wes: We've been waiting for you. 24:22 Erin: We've been waiting for you. The title has promised that you would come and then here you are. It is foretold of your coming. 24:29 Wes: Comes through the curtains, takes his bow. Right. 24:32 Erin: We get nights, just as on all those nights. And then the moose's appearance, the lights turn on. And that rhyme you get, I mean, it's a very basic, simple rhyme. Right. But there's that sort of sudden jolt which is then also visualized where in the middle of night we have this appearance, this bright because of the headlights on it. Appearance of the moose. And it looms and sniffs at the bus's hot hood, which I'm assuming means that it thinks that the bus might be a boy moose. 25:06 Wes: No. Well, it's a very hot bus, I'll say that. 25:10 Erin: Ow. Ow. 25:14 Wes: That enamel. And it's dented and, you know, depends on if you like bad buses. No, just kidding. 25:21 Erin: Dented from its last encounter with a girl bus. 25:25 Wes: Yeah. It's funny because I wrote in my notes, but was just reading it stanza by stanza. And the previous stanza I'd said, okay to sleep, even with death looming. Looming for all of us, you know, all day one. You know, one day we all die. Looming in that sense. And then suddenly the moose is looming, standing there, looming. And I thought, whoa, that's really interesting 25:45 Erin: that I. Oh, yes, chose. 25:48 Wes: Chose that word before I even got to the next stanza. Not to give some, you know, obvious rote sort of identification of the moose with death or the experience of the moose as having something to do with that. But obviously they're coming into contact here with something quite primal and important. It's not just, oh, look, there's a nice moose, but is he sniffing or she's sniffing the buses hot hood because she thinks it might be another moose. That hadn't actually occurred to me. 26:21 Erin: I must have been infected with that reading at some point that this was a frisky moose, that it otherwise doesn't seem frisky at all. It seems pretty. Like a pretty staid, respectable moose. 26:34 Wes: But frisky and ditzy. 26:39 Erin: That's right. Hello. 26:41 Wes: What? 26:41 Erin: Oh, look, I seem to be in the middle of the road. Pardon me. 26:46 Wes: So, towering, antlerless, high as a church, homely as a house. We're safe as houses, a man's voice assures us. Perfectly harmless. Which you presume, right, that the. The man making that assurance is. Precedes the idea of it being homely as a house and safe as houses. Even though. So. So she interestingly puts the associations before her associative responses before the actual stimulus. Right. I don't think she's the one who is thinking about how they must be safe and. And he's saying something. I mean, as far as I know. I don't know back then. But you were warned about bison and mooses, right? Or is it mooses or moose? I think we're warned because they don't. They. They seem harmless, but they're not. And so I was quite surprised by this stanza. And I thought this idea, okay, safe as houses. Well, yeah, houses ought to be safe, but they're not always safe. The bus, the moving container of the bus turns out to be, in a way safer and more conducive to reverie and dreaming and all of that. 27:59 Erin: No matter how you slice it, whether you see the moose as harmless, truly, or not so harmless, this has got to be just a little bit of a wink, right? A man's voice assures us. 28:09 Wes: I mean, I think we're definitely meant to be skeptical. 28:12 Erin: Yeah. 28:13 Wes: This perfectly harmless line, it's not there for us to nod our heads in agreement. 28:20 Erin: Oh, yeah, he's right, right, right. I think it's more like, oh, here's another mansplainer. 28:26 Wes: He's moose splaining. 28:28 Erin: Mooseplaining this woman moose to moose splaining. Just out for a good time, having her existence commented upon by another man's voice. Probably a podcaster. One of those male podcasters has a manosphere podcast. 28:45 Wes: Girl mooses are. 28:49 Erin: Then we get these childish again. The passengers are like children and having this childlike response to the appearance of the moose, including. It's awful, plain sad. So much judgment of women's bodies. 29:04 Wes: I mean, they're not good looking creatures. Let's just. They're, you know, put that on the table. Come on. They are in an ugly sort of way. 29:11 Erin: Yeah. I mean, okay, I guess they don't follow, you know, classical proportions. They don't represent the golden mean. 29:21 Wes: They're not into beauty society societal beauty standards. All right. 29:28 Erin: They are like cartoon characters. 29:29 Wes: They're miss Positive is what they are. 29:35 Erin: Well, what I love though, about the description, you know, we get several, I suppose. Yeah. Contradictory descriptions of the moose in a way, because we get homely as a house or safe as houses. We get awful plain. But then she looks the bus over grand otherworldly, so she has some gravitas. She's like a great character actress who. Who may not be beautiful in that leading lady way, but she's Kathy Bates. Yes. Yeah, well, that's maybe a bit insulting to Kathy Bates, who I do think is a very attractive woman, but. 30:19 Wes: Sorry, Kathy. 30:20 Erin: I know, I love her. 30:21 Wes: Come on the show sometime, please. 30:24 Erin: Oh my gosh, I would die. I love Kathy Bates anyway. And then we get curious creatures. Well, first we get the idea that it inspires joy and then we get curious creatures. So there's a. The joy is then immediately undercut by a kind of ambivalence. Right. So there's just all of these descriptions of the moose combine to create a kind of ambivalent portrait, such as it is, of the animal. 30:47 Wes: Are we going to be able to answer this question? Why? Why do they feel the sweet sensation of joy? I mean, I think I would probably feel it. 30:57 Erin: Why? Why do we all feel it? I mean, they have. Well, they've successfully done what I couldn't see a moose in real life. So they're like one up on Erin. Can't wait to go back and tell her we saw moose. Yeah, I've seen certain things. I can't think of a specific example of this, but I've had plenty of instances. Whether it is a wild animal or, I don't know, like a sunset or a really spectacular natural event of some kind or other. You do get that feeling of joy, kind of excitement. 31:28 Wes: Yeah. Unfortunately, most of my encounters with large animals are at zoos. I did see a bear once. I was going to the bathroom. My mom had a house in Front Royal, Virginia, at the beginning of the Appalachian Mountains. And it was up high on a. We called it a mountain, but it was, I guess, more of a hill. But so it was out, you know, it was kind of. There was a bear on the mountain, let's just put it that way. And, yeah, I was going to the bathroom one day and looking out the window. There's a window right. You know, above the toilet. And suddenly there's bear's face looking at me. Wow. What the. So, but that, you know, and. And that was majestic. No, just kidding. That it was. I. It was surprising. 32:13 Erin: Yeah. 32:14 Wes: And there's an element of fear that involved. Even if you're, you know, even if, you know, black bears are harmless and there's a wall between you. Some. Something scary about it. I didn't have time to feel like it's majestic. Yeah. You know, like you have had these experiences in. In nature, but I can't think of a encounter like this. But it. I seem sure that if I had an encounter like this, I would feel exactly the same way. So. Yeah. What is otherworldly about it? What is majestic about it? It's a big, dumb beast. And I say that with love, without any criticism in the sense that. Right. It's an encounter with something primal. And I think we have to take into account the size of the animal as well. I mean, it is interesting to run into a fox or something like that, but it's also a matter of scale here. But. Yeah. What is otherworldly about it? I mean, I think the most. The most obvious part of this is that you know, we have lost something in our humanity and becoming language using creatures and becoming self conscious creatures. And sometimes when we're confronted with an animal like this, we're confronted with that loss. We're not as connected to the environment because of the intermediation of something like language, which poetry of course tries to overcome. It tries to put language into a disintermediating. Sorry to use these business terms. I don't know why this is happening. Into a disintermediation. 33:46 Erin: Actualize. Yeah, yeah. 33:49 Wes: When it. Yeah, right. Synergize it's agenda. Often where language might put distance between us and the world. Poetry, I think, can undo that distance. Like I was saying, with the very vivid imagery, I can undo that distance with figurative language. And maybe that distance is also undone to some extent by the dreaming or the half dreaming hallucinatory state that she was in. And the comfort of that, the return to childhood, which is also a simpler time. I don't know. I'm thinking out loud here. But yeah, I wanted to try to get more at this, you know, the otherworldly status of the moose and the joy that comes from encountering it. 34:34 Erin: I was thinking to myself, is the moose's gaze really clearly encapsulated? And then I thought, yes, she regards us amicably. And then I was like, no, no, that's the passenger who gets on the bus. 34:44 Wes: Right. Does the moose have freckles? Yeah, that'd be an interesting twist, right? 34:50 Erin: But yeah, but there is one. 34:51 Wes: Turned her into a moose. 34:53 Erin: Well, I would think that this would be a more garden variety animal encounter and maybe even a more, to use a word, I don't like, problematic poem in terms of its relationship with the animal. If it were to focus on the gaze of the animal. Because I think that is the thing which is often at the core of these interactions with animals in which we project or hope to have a kind of meaningful encounter. You want to meet the gaze of the animal and in so doing understand it. Right. And of course you don't realize that you're just projecting onto it a kind of maybe mutual regard. She regards us amicably. That you are seeing it and it is seeing you. And there's an acknowledgement and there's this, you know, spiritual encounter that you have with this animal. And all of that, of course, is often quite silly. It's often quite reductive and fanciful and unrealistic. But I am thinking of an encounter that springs to mind is in Utah. I hiked the same trail almost every day. And I Would often hike it late in order to escape the full heat of the desert sun. Which is a little dangerous, right? Because sometimes the sun would be setting and then all kinds of things come out. And one time I was trying to get back to my car before it got completely dark. And what I thought was a wolf, but what must have been a coyote. And the coyotes in Utah are huge. They look like wolves and completely white. Came out from over a hill, crossed my path, turned, looked at me in the eyes for a very long time, turned and went over on the other side of the hill. I mean, curiously, then, of course, I got to the car and I actually found out that a beloved family member, an elderly family member of mine, had passed away. And I said, I think I just saw her. You know, I had this feeling of, like. I don't know, the sense of this connection, inherent connection between these two. This woman who was dear to me and this encounter. But, of course, that's all silliness. And the idea that I was having a sort of interaction through the gate. Some sort of reciprocal. Right. Interaction with this animal was also entirely just my own projecting onto the animal. However, I will say that that's an instance in which I felt fear. But then there was also this, like, joy at the encounter, I think fear because it was dark. Because I wasn't actually sure if this was a wolf because it blocked my path. It was far enough away that I didn't feel as threatened as I might have. But it was definitely a mixed perception. 37:28 Wes: You didn't shoot it and then hang it around your neck. No, because I was thinking. I just suddenly thought of the albatross poem. 37:37 Erin: Rime of the Ancient Mariner. 37:38 Wes: Rime of the Ancient Mariner. And that sort of relationship to the natural world where. I mean, I forget what we said about it, but maybe I said something about envy and wanting to kill the albatross for. Because of its freedom or something like that. I don't. I don't know. But I think it's important because, yeah, this is part of something about the encounter with the natural world. Whether it's a big moose or something else. Yes. Is otherworldly. Strangely enough, it's otherworldly to us, even though it's where we come from. It's uncanny, maybe. And Freud actually, in the German, I think uncanny is sort of like unhomelike is what the German sounds like. And Freud made a lot out of this. I think it's home, but it's a home from which we've become alienated. We're animals, we're something more than animals. And so that primal encounter brings us back to that foundation, that natural foundation in us, but we can't fully come to terms with it. And I think the other aspect of this, I think the death. Right. So there is a link to death. Just. And I was thinking about that when you described thinking of it as seeing. As seeing your departed loved one. Because if we could regress to that animal state, it would be a kind of death. I think that the association with the movement to the pre. Linguistic, natural foundation is something like the movement towards dying, but there's something comforting. 39:07 Erin: Yes. 39:07 Wes: Right. And we encounter that when we encounter the gaze. To have a. Have a gaze returned by an animal like that usually like, like our internal. Our entire psychological structure, what makes us self. Self conscious is the internalization of a human gaze. Right. To the extent that we. We get an animal gaze, I think we are returned to that more primal part of ourselves. And it does seem to me to have something to do with being reconciled to mortality. Right. Which is part of what the function of that dialogue between the elderly people is doing. 39:44 Erin: You're leading me into the one, say, reading of the moose that I wanted to get to. And I just want to say that I think the great thing about Bishop and about this poem and all her poems is that the moose is a moose. It's not a symbol. I hesitate to offer any kind of 40:03 Wes: direct reading, but that's her job on this podcast, though. 40:05 Erin: I know, I know. It's. Yeah. In the letters with Robert Lowell when he's writing to her about her poem At the Fishhouses, he says, alas, all my fish just become symbols. 40:16 Wes: Ah, very good. 40:17 Erin: I hesitate to reduce. I think what you've just said makes me think that it's the maternal, the mother. 40:25 Wes: Which also brings us back to the house. 40:28 Erin: Yes, the house. Yeah. It's something that comes like the clapboard churches, like clamshells seem to arise out of the ground, if you will, or are directly compared to these native creatures. The houses are then in turn used as comparisons for the moose, the maternal. The idea that this is something that returns us to nature, that this is the encounter that we would have presumably upon death. It's the loved one that is somehow comforting, maternal, and is a female moose. It's moose mom. I don't know. I don't know. Something going on there. 41:04 Wes: Moose mom. 41:05 Erin: Natural and strange at the same time, not us. And I guess that's why I. That's why I mentioned that the story of my grandfather at the beginning, because I don't know why I wanted so badly to see a moose right after my grandfather's death. But there was something, like, logical about it to me. And I was familiar with this poem, but I very much did not have. You know, it was not something that was the forefront of my mind at all. But I think there is this inherent connection, and it's silly. You know, I kind of can't believe I'm saying this, but I do. I do think there is this kind of connection between this desire that I felt to see this animal. Like the particular kind of primordial itch that the moose in particular seems to be scratching for me in that moment. For Bishop, in this poem, something that is at once safe and comforting and from another world, natural in that kind of elemental way. 42:00 Wes: Yeah. 42:01 Erin: That all kind of coalesce in that image. 42:04 Wes: Very good. 42:05 Erin: Okay. I think that's it, Wes. All we're left with is the dim smell of moose and an acrid smell of gasoline. 42:12 Wes: Oh, you know, we should have talked about that. Maybe we can start with that on our next Bishop recording. We'll. We'll begin with the smells, the smells and the significance of that image at the end. 42:25 Erin: Nice. 42:25 Wes: That smellage at the end. 42:26 Erin: Smellage. All right. Thank you. 42:29 Wes: Thank you.

    • Transcript
  • August 17 · 37 min

    A Map-Like Imagination in the Poetry of Elizabeth Bishop (“The Moose”)

    A poem about a map opens North and South, the first collection of the great twentieth century poet Elizabeth Bishop, and since, maps have been associated with her poetic vision—at once telescoping and binocular—and with the polarities and preoccupations of her work. The map’s privileged, sweeping, bird’s eye view of the earth is also hand-held, man-made, intimate. Depending on its level of minuteness or obsession, it can contain the tiniest details as well as, let’s say, the whole enchilada. And though it purports to be scientific and objective, it is representational and therefore subjective, particular, imaginative, and personal. For several episodes, Wes & Erin will be reading a selection of some of Bishop’s most anthologized poems, starting with “The Moose” as expressions of, among other things, her map-like imagination. Upcoming Episodes: Nolan’s adaptation of “The Odyssey”; more Elizabeth Bishop poetry: “First Death in Nova Scotia,” “One Art.” Pre-order Erin’s forthcoming book “Avail” here: http://subtextpodcast.com/avail For bonus content, become a paid subscriber at Patreon or directly on the Apple Podcasts app. Patreon subscribers also get early access to ad-free regular episodes. Also from Wes: Curtain Times, a calendar of Boston theatre, classical, talks and readings. Follow: Twitter | Facebook | Website Transcript 0:11 Erin: A poem about a map opens north and south, the first collection of the great 20th century poet Elizabeth Bishop. And since maps have been associated with her poetic vision, at once telescoping and binocular, and with the polarities and preoccupations of her work. The map's privileged, sweeping, bird's eye view of the earth is also handheld, man made intimate. Depending on its level of minuteness or obsession, it can contain the tiniest details as well as, let's say, the whole enchilada. And though it purports to be scientific and objective, it is representational and therefore subjective, particular, imaginative and personal. Over the next few episodes, we'll be reading a selection of some of Bishop's most anthologized poems, starting with the moose as expressions of, among other things, her map, like imagination. This is Erin O'Luanaigh. And this is Wes Alwan, and you're listening to Subtext. Wes, have you ever seen a moose in the wild? 1:12 Wes: I have not, but I have seen Instagram videos of them and people getting too close, and I've heard that they actually are quite dangerous. 1:23 Erin: Oh, perfectly harmless. 1:24 Wes: As cute as they look. So not safe as houses. Which is a very surprising line, unless you think that houses maybe aren't as safe as they seem or ought to be. But that's something we'll talk about later. How about you? 1:38 Erin: I have not. And I actually, it's become a running joke among certain friends of mine that I haven't seen a moose because I long to see a moose in the wild. This is my dearest wish. 1:52 Wes: Is that the first time anyone said that in history? I long to see. 1:56 Erin: I don't know. 1:57 Wes: It's a good first line for a poem, actually. Why do you long. Long to see a moose in the wild? 2:03 Erin: Really? Maybe because of the poem. I don't know. I just really want to, but I. Maybe this will become significant without getting too personal or maybe with getting too personal. With apologies to the listeners. Ten years ago now, when my grandfather passed that summer, my grandmother wanted to go up to Maine and revisit certain places that she had been with him. And we ended up going to Acadia. And I was so excited to see. Am just. I got it into my head that I had to go to Acadia and see a moose. And I even bought a sweatshirt. I'm not wearing it right now. I looked down to see if I was wearing it. It's the same size and shape as this one. This is a Yankees, 1996 World Series sweatshirt. 2:42 Wes: It's not a Rocky and Bullwinkle sweatshirt, is it? 2:45 Erin: No, no, no. It's an acadia and it has a. It has a moose on it. And so I bought it the first day that I was there and I was like, this is my sweatshirt and it has a moose on it. And I'm gonna. I'm gonna see a moose. And I did not see a moose. And then I. I bought a moose sweatshirt in, I think Grand Teton, and I was like, I'm gonna see a moose. And I did not see a moose. And then I lived obviously many years in Utah, and things would happen. Everybody knew I wanted to see a moose. And I would go to these trails where you could see moose. And I would like be going up a trail and someone would be coming down saying, there are moose up there. We just saw a moose. You just saw baby moose. I'd get all excited and I would. I would run up and it was gone and people would taunt me. 3:32 Wes: So you don't want to see like a magic white hart or something like that? 3:38 Erin: No, no, I just want to see him. Even the garden variety moose? No, no. Just a humble moose will hide itself from me when. When it knows that I am after it. 3:49 Wes: Because they are a goofy, right? Are they majestic? Are they goofy looking? Are they both? 3:55 Erin: I think they're both. And I think that kind of qual quality is really well captured in the poem. No, I mean that quality of if not being then looking safe as houses or being a gargantuan size, and yet having. I know this is a female moose, which I believe is called a cow, as opposed to a bull. Right. But the bulls, even their horns have that hand like quality to them. You know, it looks kind of like an outstretched hand. 4:22 Wes: Interesting. 4:24 Erin: Yeah. They're not majestic. 4:25 Wes: Yeah, I think that's important to the poem. It's not some obviously majestic creature, although it is large and there is majesty in it in the poem, but it's not the typical majesty that you can just get from, oh, look at this beautiful animal. 4:41 Erin: Yeah. And this is kind of why I brought up my grandfather. There was some connection for me as I think there is something quite personal going on with the moose at the end, other than the shared experience of everybody in the bus, all of that. Like there's something bigger than us, more than us, and yet familiar in a way. And it's magical in a sense, because to see it is kind of a rare thing. Yet it also comes out of the landscape that she's that she's grown up in and that she's part of. I think there's a. Yeah. A lot of interesting dualities going on. 5:17 Wes: Okay. So maybe you can read the whole thing and then you could give a little bit. Or we could give a little bit of the biographical background because this is a bus trip she actually took. Right. 5:26 Erin: Yeah. 5:27 Wes: The significance of Nova Scotia, which is where she's departing from in the poem and all of that stuff. But. Yeah. Do you want to start by reading? 5:35 Erin: Sure. The moose from narrow provinces of fish and bread and tea, home of the long tides, where the bay leaves the sea twice a day and takes the herrings long rides where if the river enters or retreats in a wall of brown foam depends on if it meets the bay. Coming in the bay, not at home, where silted red sometimes the sun sets facing a red sea and others veins the flats. Lavender rich mud and burning rivulets. On red gravelly roads, down rows of sugar maples, past clapboard farmhouses and neat clapboard churches, bleached ridged as clam shells, past twin silver birches through late afternoon a bus journeys west, the windshield flashing pink, pink glancing off of metal, brushing the dented flank of blue beat up enamel, down hollows, uprises and waits patient, while a lone traveler gives kisses and embraces to seven relatives and the collie supervises goodbye to the elms, to the farm, to the dog. The bus starts. The light grows richer. The fog shifting, salty, thin, comes closing in. Its cold round crystals form and slide and settle in the white hen's feathers in gray glazed cabbages on the cabbage roses and lupins like apostles. The sweet peas cling to their wet white string on the whitewashed fences. Bumblebees creep inside the foxgloves and evening commences. One stop at Bass river, then the economies, lower middle, upper five islands. Five houses where a woman shakes a tablecloth out after supper. A pale flickering gone the Tantramar marshes and the smell of salt hay. An iron bridge trembles and a loose plank rattles but doesn't give way. On the left a red light swims through the dark. A ship's port lantern. Two rubber boots show illuminated, solemn. A dog gives one bark. A woman climbs in with two market bags. Brisk, freckled, elderly. A grand night. Yes, sir. All the way to Boston. She regards us amicably. Moonlight as we enter the New Brunswick woods. Hairy, scratchy, splintery moonlight and mist caught in them like lamb's wool. On bushes in a pasture the passengers lie back, snores some long sighs. A dreamy divagation begins in the night, a gentle auditory slow hallucination in the creakings and noises, an old conversation not concerning us but recognizable somewhere back in the bus, grandparents, voices uninterruptedly talking in eternity, names being mentioned. Things cleared up finally. What he said, what she said, who got pensioned. Deaths, deaths and sicknesses. The year he remarried, the year something happened, she died in childbirth. That was the son lost when the schooner foundered. He took to drink. Yes, she went to the bad when Amos began to pray, even in the store and finally the family had to put him away. Yes, that peculiar affirmative. Yes, a sharp indrawn breath, half groan, half acceptance. That means life's like that, we know it. Also death talking the way they talked in the old featherbed, peacefully on and on, dim lamplight in the hall, down in the kitchen, the dog tucked in her shawl. Now it's all right now, even to fall asleep, just as on all those nights. Suddenly the bus driver stops with a jolt, turns off his lights. A moose has come out of the impenetrable wood and stands there, looms rather in the middle of the road. It approaches, it sniffs at the bus's hot hood, towering antlerless, high as a church, homely as a house or safe as houses, a man's voice assures us, perfectly harmless. Some of the passengers exclaim in whispers, childishly, softly, sure are big creatures. It's awful plain. Look, it's a she. Taking her time. She looks the bus over, grand, otherworldly. Why. Why do we feel. We all feel the sweet sensation of joy? Curious creatures, says our quiet driver, rolling his Rs. Look at that, would you? Then he shifts gears for a moment longer by craning backward. The moose can be seen on the moonlit macadam. Then there's a dim smell of moose, an acrid smell of gasoline. 11:05 Wes: Thank you. Very nice. It's really great to hear it spoken out loud. Spoken is the wrong word. It's the word read, performed. Do you want to say anything about the form of the poem before I ask you about some of the autobiographical background? 11:22 Erin: Yeah. Short lines, six line stanzas, 20, I believe. 28 stanzas in all. Irregularly rhymed, should we say? Kind of like a lot of bishop, you know, we get A, B, C. Then sometimes not rhymed where you might expect. So the rhymes peek their heads out and then. And then recede. Chatty a little bit in places, lots of repetitions of words. But that. That's something we could talk about More. But, yeah, kind of. Kind of mysterious form. One of the best things I've ever heard or read, I guess, about Bishop was by Michael Hofmann, who wrote quite a bit about her. And he said that it seems as though every time Bishop is writing, whether in form or in a kind of nonce form that she's creating, that she seems to be just inventing every form, like from scratch. You know, there's no blueprint. She doesn't have a familiar style in which she writes or particular kind of verse form that she seems to gravitate to. And when she writes, you know, a sestina or a villanelle or a sonnet or something like that, it seems like she's almost inventing the form as she goes along. And in this instance, there's a real. I keep wanting to say homemade after Crusoe in England. But, yeah, I think that's maybe what he was trying to get at, that homemade quality, that sort of bespoke kind of quality. And in the places where the rhyme goes in and out, I think that's really exemplified. 12:53 Wes: Well, it better be bespoke. She took forever to write it. 12:55 Erin: Yeah, that's right. She started this in, I think, 1946. 13:01 Wes: And then she finished it when this 13:04 Erin: was published in Geography III. So she finished it in the 70s. 13:07 Wes: Okay. 13:08 Erin: Geography III came out in 1977. And this must have been published before then, individually, perhaps in the New Yorker, I think. Oh, Geography III is 76. I would say maybe 72 is the date that comes to mind. Don't quote me on that. 13:24 Wes: Do we know why it took her so long? Obviously, she put it down for a couple days here and there. 13:29 Erin: It was the July 15th issue, 1972. So close to the day that we're recording. Why did it take her so long? She just worked on things forever and ever and ever. You see it, if you read. I highly recommend to listeners that they Get Words in Air. A very, very thick book of all the letters between Bishop and her friend Robert Lowell. You see her bringing up things or even mentioning in a description that she's writing to Lowell in a letter, a line that will later show up in a poem. Yeah. Low rate of productivity is great to. 14:08 Wes: You know, I can relate to that. 14:11 Erin: I take it as my model, honestly. Like, you know, live. Live Large and die with a slim Collected is kind of a. 14:19 Wes: Kind of a great Monroe Doctrine. But call it. What's another name? Bishpro. 14:28 Erin: That's right. 14:29 Wes: Is it right that she was forced to complete it because she agreed to read it this is something for deadlines. Right. At Harvard's Phi Beta Kappa ceremony. 14:38 Erin: I didn't know that. I know she read it at that ceremony, but I didn't know that that's what. The impetus for completing it. But that doesn't surprise me. 14:45 Wes: Yeah. So deadlines help every once in a while. 14:47 Erin: Absolutely, absolutely. 14:49 Wes: And then biographically. Right. This is based on a trip that she actually took, and she. She'd been to visit relatives in Nova Scotia and then came back on this bus trip. And the. There really was a moose. There really was a collie. Seven relatives for the rest of it. Yeah, yeah. Seven else. 15:11 Erin: Yeah, yeah. The specificity and all of it's. You know, there is a kind of like a photo realism, not just in the style, but in the. You know, we could sort of be certain that these things happened the way that she is recording them somehow, and yet she's spinning it into something more than just reportage. 15:30 Wes: So she was raised partly by her grandparents in Great Village, Nova Scotia. Right. Her. Her father had died in infancy and her mother was institutionalized. 15:41 Erin: That's right, yeah. 15:41 Wes: She aged at. When she was 5. 15:43 Erin: That's right. 15:44 Wes: So it's important just because. Yeah. The bus is leaving Nova Scotia, but go. Go ahead. 15:48 Erin: Yeah, it is important. She was born in 1911 in Worcester, Massachusetts, and she's buried there. I've seen her grave up there. It has a line or two lines from The Bight on her tombstone. All the untidy activity continues. Awful but cheerful. Yeah. So she was born in 1911. Her father died, I think, of Bright's disease when she was 8 months old. And then her mother was institutionalized when she was 5, and she never saw her again. She didn't die until the 30s, I think, while Bishop was at Vassar. 16:23 Wes: Do we know what she was institutionalized for? Mental illness in general? 16:28 Erin: Yes. I don't know exactly what. In a short story of Bishop's, she describes as her. A scream coming from her mother. And whatever was wrong was exacerbated by her husband's death. And so then Elizabeth was left to be raised by her grandparents in Nova Scotia who were quite poor. And I guess she was kind of running around barefoot on the farm and stuff like that. And her father's family were very wealthy, and so when they came up to visit Elizabeth, they were, I guess, horrified by the fact that she was just like, you know, running around, hanging out with farm animals. And they took her to. Back with him to Worcester, and she was very unhappy there. Very ill child. She had asthma and eczema. And really, like, I think almost died of both at one time or other, very unhappy. And then eventually she moved to an aunt's house in, I want to say, in Revere, Massachusetts, and she was a little happier there. And then she went to Vassar, and I've been to the Vassar campus to see various buildings associated with Bishop and also to see. They did a really fabulous exhibition of her postcards at the Vassar Library a couple of years ago, which I really loved, seeing her hand and her little. In jokes and asides and really amazing to see. Anyway, at Vassar, the librarian there set up a meeting between Bishop and Marianne Moore, who became a mentor to her. They were very close. And then also over the course of her life, she was very close with and had an important friendship with Lowell. Hence the enormous book of letters. I have it here. It's so heavy I could barely pick it up. But this is a great book. It's kind of like an epistolary novel. Yeah. And she was. I think it's important to say, too, that she was a lesbian who had a very long relationship with a Brazilian architect named Lota de Macedo Soares, who was her partner in Brazil for 15 years. She lived down there, known for travel. A lot of her collections, whether it's Geography III, which is the most obvious one, or north and south, have. There are a lot of Brazilian poems. There are a lot of geographical poems. The first poem in her first collection, north and south, was the Map, which is often read as a kind of ars poetica. She's known for these types of, you know, sweeping landscapes that the moose begins with, and an interest in landscape and in this kind of bird's eye view. But then also you get these telescoping details, like a cinematic close up interspersed. Much is made of that in Bishop, of that kind of vision of hers, and specifically of, I don't know, the idea that she creates these. These beautiful miniatures, which is true, but maybe sometimes can be a little. I mean, she's revered, as she should be, and she's one of the most popular poets and she also has a great ear and she has so many other great things going on. So I don't want to exclusively focus on that kind of visual element, though it's there and it's very rich. 19:43 Wes: So from narrow provinces of fish and bread and tea. That's a very good opener. Why are they narrow provinces? And what is the. What are the fish and bread and tea doing? Fish and bread sounds vaguely like it could be a biblical reference, but maybe it's not. But you add tea. Right. There's something mundane here and perhaps restricted, provincial. And that's what she's going to be departing from. I mean, well, begins with the tides, but. 20:12 Erin: Yeah, right. Yeah, that's right. Narrow in a few kinds of ways. Because there's a strange. Because of the Bay of Fundy, there's almost that like U shaped corridor of land around it. So Nova Scotia is kind of narrow. And then up into. Then there's the narrow isthmus. I don't know, I don't know if I'm using that word correctly. Up into New Brunswick. Yeah, so there's something maybe a little, I don't want to say spiritually narrow, maybe somewhat limited or like practical. Practical and, you know, just the necessities and a place we learn that that is. That maybe has to be stalwart in response to the vagaries of the water around it. The Bay of Fundy, I was reading online, the tide, over the course of just one tide, can rise and fall 50ft because the bay is like a giant funnel. When it goes out, it just leaves this vast, open, muddy plain basically behind it. 21:16 Wes: She portrays this very beautifully. We get the image of the tide retreating and then the flats that are being illuminated by the setting sun as burning rivulets. And then there's almost a transition into the bus ride when she says on red gravelly roads, eventually the subject of that is going to be the bus. Although in the beginning, before we get to the bus, it looks like the rivulets have almost become roads. So you almost get the sense like the tides come in and it's going to go further inward, it's going to go all the way to Boston, but it's going to become the inhabitants of the bus who are much like the herrings. Right. In the first stanza. The herrings on the tides take herrings on long rides. So it's almost as if as the tide comes in, she is caught in the tide and brought along with it towards her destination. 22:08 Erin: That's right, yeah. And the bay itself, the water itself is also like a traveler, you know, you might go to visit it and find it's not at home, it's gone out for on a trip or something. So there's also that connection as well. Whereas the roads are part of this more solid and dependable and the water being fickle and not always depended on to be there. 22:31 Wes: Well, I was going to say there's something very poignant about the way she describes the tides and whether they're in or out. And I can't put my finger on it exactly. It's almost. It's this idea of. Right. Where if the river enters or retreats in a wall of brown foam depends on if it meets the bay. Coming in the bay, not at home. If the tide is in or coming in the river clashes with it in a wall of brown foam. Is that the idea now? And what's the image there? Is it always a wall of brown foam? Well, either way, I just. Something about this idea of. It depends on whether the bay is at home or something like that. It's a poignant image. 23:12 Erin: It is. It's that sense of just. Of disappointment or just missing someone, like a missed opportunity. Seems kind of surprisingly emotionally resonant, considering that she's talking about a tide. 23:25 Wes: And we. You know, it introduces the idea of home and. Which I think will be significant. And later on we'll talk about whether the moose is safe as houses and the reflections of the elderly and all that stuff. But. 23:40 Erin: And boundaries, too, right. You have very slippery boundary between the bay and the. And the sea, between the rivers and the bay that feeds them. And I think that boundary very much plays into the idea of home. And you could say that the bus seems to be a part of that too. Right. Like the bus becomes the home. So there's a little bit of the slippery idea of this transposition of home life into the bus, or the people on the bus all becoming the. We like a family within it. The way that it can literally cross national boundaries. It's going to Boston across the border. 24:18 Wes: Yeah. And then they'll be observing provincial life, I guess, from within the bus. And. And, you know, a woman shaking out an apron, for instance, or home life. But, yeah, I had the same thought to you. The bus. The interior of the bus becomes its own kind of mobile home, I guess. I guess the wall brown foam part. There's that push and pull, or it's a matter of who's doing the pushing. Right. In one case, the brown foam. The wall of brown foam is caused as. As the river pushes on the retreating tide. And the other case, it's the tide pushing back against the river as it comes in. But in either case, there's a clash there. 24:58 Erin: Then there are places, though, where there's blurring of boundaries. Like one of my favorite lines in the whole poem, the idea of the churches as ridged as clamshells. She always takes that. This is much remarked upon among scholars of Bishop. Where you get the thing that's. That's really big, suddenly reduced in size to the handheld, but coming out of the same idiom. You know, both the clamshell and this clapboard church are in a way equally native to Nova Scotia. The brilliance of connecting those two things and fishing being an industry in the area, you know, sort of springing out of the fishing industry. 25:42 Wes: Yeah. And shells are what's left as the tide retreats. Right. As it's as if the houses are just the natural residue of a retreating tide. 25:52 Erin: That's great. 25:52 Wes: From the beginning of the poem, there's a sense of momentum, and almost like you, at least in my case, I felt like I'm on a camera moving over the landscape, and it starts with the tide, and then it moves to the burning rivulets. Right. So now we're hovering over. I don't know what you would call it, a. A tidal plane. Anyway, she calls it the flats. Right. So all the silt, and we're moving along there, and then suddenly we're on a gravelly road. So the sun takes over from the sea. The redness of the sun. And then the bus takes over from the sun. But that's the momentum of the poem is from sea to sun to bus. 26:37 Erin: Yeah. The bus flashes pink. We get lots of pairs of the same word, creating a kind of chime with each other. So we get the windshield flashing pink. Pink glancing off of metal. And we wonder, I suppose, because part of the reason why the roads are red is because of the clay content. Right. Of the road itself. So we get that combination of, like, something red in the road or in the composition of the soil and rock of the area. 27:07 Wes: Laterite, I think, which I only know because of Graham Greene, who I've been reading. Oh, and what heart of the matter. He's talking about laterite houses, like. So from the red clay, you can make, you know, homes from as well, and common in Sierra Leone. So he used the word like a hundred times before he finally looked it up. All right. There must be something that's going to not know what he's talking about. I'm like, oh, okay, now I get it. Yeah. 27:41 Erin: So that's the mineral, the. 27:44 Wes: It's reddish. Yeah. Reddish clay type of soil, topsoil or something like that. I should know more about this because I used to write about this, too, when I was writing about transportation and engineering. 27:56 Erin: Right. 27:57 Wes: It's important what kind of soil you're building on. But anyway, I remember nothing about that. But, yeah. So it could be the right word. Who knows? But. But, yeah. So you're getting at the. Yeah. The way the redness of the sun is interacting with the. 28:12 Erin: Yes, it's coming. 28:13 Wes: The redness of the soil. 28:14 Erin: Yeah. And that kind of redness coming from below and above to glint off of the bus. The windshield is flashing pink from the sun and the metal is flashing pink from the road. They're both brushing the dented flank of the blue beat up enamel from one direction or the other, it seems. Yeah. Sort of tunnel of red in which the. In which the bus is traveling. 28:41 Wes: Such a vivid image that she gives us. It made me think, you know, sometimes it's almost better than film. It's more vibrant or more. Don't know how to say it, but I was thinking about this because in some of the philosophy podcasts we do, there are philosophers who deny that we have imagery in our head. Exactly. Or we can never. Which seems true. Right. We can't imagine anything with the vividness that we would have if we actually saw it. But it makes me think when I read a poem like this, but also. And also reading some of the novels I've been reading. Well, there's a special kind of vividness to figurative language that perception can't capture. In some ways it's more. More vivid, definitely. 29:26 Erin: I think the sonic quality of the word, the repeated. Right. It's on the one hand a repeated image, but then it also creates that kind of just the soundscape, makes them feel somehow more synesthetic to say, but somehow more picturable or more tangible or more. I don't know, the pink glancing off metal, the dented flank beat up enamel. You know, there's just. It's like. I think that's contributing to it, to the vividness of the image. And yeah, you talked about momentum, too. I mean, this entire. This whole first sentence is six stanzas long. It ends with. and a collie supervises. So there's also that kind of. Yeah. Locomotive propulsion of the camera work, so to speak, Zooming in and then following the road into the bus. And then the bus arrives to sort of catch again, quite cinematically the scene that's actually happening or the place where the eye, if there is an eye in the poem, actually is the lone traveler embracing these relatives with the collie watching on. So there's a sense in which the I eye of the poem doesn't actually catch up with the speaker until stanza six and the end of this first sentence until we get goodbye to the elms, to the farm, to the dogs. So there's kind of lamination at that moment of the I eye and the capital I. 30:49 Wes: We seem to be gradually getting more of a point of view. Right. It's very omniscient in the beginning, hovering over the landscape. And I think gradually we're going to be getting a her point of view in the bus and then a we. But also just to note, this is one. I think this is the first of three pauses. Right. There's gonna. It's gonna pause here, the bus. The momentum is gonna stop as the bus lets on the lone traveler, which I presume is her. Right. Her saying goodbye. And then there'll be a pause when the amicable freckled woman gets on. She's there because we need everything to be in threes. And then we. Then we're gonna pause for the moose in the very end. I didn't miss anything. Right. There's not other places where we stop? 31:32 Erin: No. I mean, there are, of course, stanzas that end some more definitively than others and stopped with a period. There's a stop at Bass River. Right. So there is a little bit of that kind of start. Stop syntactically. But I think you're right that those are the stops where there's content. 31:49 Wes: Content goes. 31:50 Erin: Yes. And where there's a very particular. Yeah, the content of the bus, except for the moose obviously doesn't get on the bus. But there's a stop that's motivated, let's say, rather than just being described as various stops along the way where we don't know who got on and who got off or whatever. Certainly there's also a movement toward that more personal experience of the speaker. But then there are also things that the speaker couldn't possibly know or you know, because once she's said goodbye to everyone and gets on the bus, then we also get the sort of nature show close ups. The crystals of fog, the lupins like apostles, the sweet peas clinging. One of my favorite parts, clinging to their wet white string on the whitewashed fences. Again, we get two uses of white right next to each other. Bumblebees creeping in the foxgloves. All things you really can't see from certainly from a moving bus. 32:43 Wes: Yeah, the point of view gets focused very, very gradually, maybe through the whole palm. Maybe it's not fully focused until the very end, but. Yeah. So you're pointing out something important which is at the sort of omniscient point of view is still here in these very. What do you call it when you take a close up with your phone? Macro, ironically. Yeah. These very close up pictures of flora and fauna and very Beautiful. 33:12 Erin: Yeah. They compound and then they get more and more loaded and mysterious. And just when we're about to maybe go over the edge, we get recalled back a little bit. That's at least how I'm reading, for instance, stanza 12, about the ship's port lantern and the boot and the bark of the dog. And then suddenly a woman climbs on the bus. And so we're sort of stopped from going off into some sort of train of thought that you could follow there down a rabbit hole. But I love that stanza on red light swimming through the dark. It reminds me of the last stanza of disillusionment, of 10 o'. Clock. Do you know the old sailor, drunk and asleep in his boots, catches tigers in red weather? I think that's how it goes, the Stevens poem, because we get the boots and the red light in the ship, so they're probably. No. No real connection there. 34:07 Wes: So all of these little intricate descriptions that she's giving, right. It begins with the light growing richer, which I take it mean, means we're approaching dusk and evening, or we're in dusk and it's evening is approaching and a kind of mini winter, Right. Something. It's a diurnal cycle, but there's a bit of a parallel to something seasonal. Right. So we get crystals forming and the images like sweet peas clinging and the bumblebees inside foxgloves. As evening commences, it's almost like. I don't know if this is true, but it's almost as if we're getting the response of the animals and flora and fauna to the commencement of evening. That's our first indication of it. So I was surprised to see, okay, it's still light out enough for us to see a woman shaking a tablecloth out after supper. And that is beautifully described as a pale flickering. Right. Almost as if that's something like the light reflecting off the enamel bus, or not pink anymore, but just a flickering of pale light and then gone, I suppose. Does that mean that we're now without light? Is that sort of the way nighttime is ushered in by the end of the next stanza? And it's in the next stanza that we see a red light in the dark. Now we have a ship in the dark. So it's almost as if. Yeah, the shaking of the tablecloth is like a magician. Abracadabra. Now it's nighttime, Right? 35:39 Erin: Yeah. I love that. Yeah. You're making me realize how many connections there are to Keats in this poem. Right. There's something Keatsian about it, very. To Autumn, you get the sweet peas clinging on the fence. You get that image of fecundity things on top of other things. You know, the mossed cottage trees and the late flowers for the bees. And then the shaking out of the tablecloth is like the hair lifted by the winnowing wind. Right. Because there's. There's wind, there are flowers and bees. And then there's also, of course, redness and that image of, you know, like the evening. Autumn. Evening redness. And maybe this is. Yeah. Rows of sugar maples. Those could be red as well. If we're in an autumnal landscape, can't be too late because everything is, you know, it's got to be like August, maybe because we have this. Or. No, I guess maybe not. Gray glazed cabbages. I don't know enough about cabbages to know at what point in their development. 36:40 Wes: Yeah. Whatever season it is. I just think that the evening is almost like a mini winter. It gets colder and we see the. 36:46 Erin: Definitely. 36:47 Wes: We see the effects of it. But, yeah, maybe autumn is probably the logical season for. 36:53 Erin: Right. Yeah. And that point. Or that point in the transition from summer to autumn where, I mean, even on a summer night in Nova Scotia, the evening temperature is quite autumnal regardless. And so when the woman climbs on with the market bags, we get. 37:09 Wes: Shall we take a. Shall we? 37:12 Erin: Oh, yes. 37:13 Wes: Let's let the freckled amicable woman on in part two. 37:17 Erin: She'll have to wait. 37:18 Wes: Let's not let her on the bus yet. 37:20 Erin: You have to wait for everyone else to get off before you can get on. It's one of the cardinal rules of public transportation. Okay, we will continue in part two. Thank you. 37:29 Wes: Thank you.

    • Transcript
  • August 3 · length unknown

    Curses and Colonizers in “The Mummy” (1999) – Part 2

    The very apparatus of the mummy’s tomb—his body locked in box upon box, his organs apportioned to canopic jars, hieroglyphic inscriptions on every surface—suggest the complexity of the undertaking. What might these two strands of the mummy’s DNA—in Shakespearean terms, part-Antony, part-Cleopatra—reveal about the relationship between colonizer and colonized, and about our own desires, fears, and guilt? Wes & Erin continue their discussion of the 1999 film, “The Mummy.” Upcoming Episodes: Elizabeth Bishop poetry, including “The Moose” Pre-order Erin’s forthcoming book “Avail” here: http://subtextpodcast.com/avail For bonus content, become a paid subscriber at Patreon or directly on the Apple Podcasts app. Patreon subscribers also get early access to ad-free regular episodes. Also from Wes: Curtain Times, a calendar of Boston theatre, classical, talks and readings. Follow: Twitter | Facebook | Website Transcript 0:12 Erin: Welcome to part two of our discussion of the 1999 masterpiece, The Mummy, directed by Stephen Sommers, who is obviously, you know, the Orson Welles of the 90s 0:25 Wes: and also known for such movies as Van Helsing. 0:29 Erin: That's also a movie. 0:30 Wes: I like the Mummy Returns and Odd Thomas and GI Joe. 0:38 Erin: Oh, there it is. 0:39 Wes: Rise of Cobra. 0:41 Erin: There it is. Yeah. That's probably the greatest. That's probably his Magnificent Ambersons. Just to say a little bit more. Also in defense of this film, I think it's just fun. Right. You had fun watching this, I'm assuming. Yeah. There's something about it, to me that. Not just because we're talking about origins and stuff like that, that is a kind of, er, movie or the ultimate movie in terms of the fact that movies are just. There's something about them that is fundamentally silly and they're in a certain respect, like the silliest art form. And of course that makes me want to say something also about mummies as the ultimate representations of film itself, which has, I think, been a point made by people like André Bazin and, you know, all sorts of. Susan Sontag in On Photography talks about this. Right. Just the idea of the photographic image as the preservation of dead people is. Is often the case. 1:35 Wes: And it's. You know, the chemical processing of film is like embalming. 1:40 Erin: Yeah, exactly. 1:41 Wes: Lots of parallels. 1:43 Erin: I'm just. I'm trying very slowly to construct a justification for why we are covering this on subtext. No, but I. But also. And I should. I should have said this at the beginning of the last one. This is my Gimme. My. My summer fun. In the same spirit of doing Elf at. At Christmas, I think I wanted to do a silly summer blockbuster. And of course they're also doing another. Another Mummy film soon with Brendan Fraser and Rachel Weisz. Finally. She'll be back. So it's also in honor of the resurrection of the career of Brendan Fraser. 2:16 Wes: He's going to be £300 in this one. 2:18 Erin: That'll be great. 2:19 Wes: Rachel. Rachel Weisz has to roll him around. I'm sorry. 2:23 Erin: So mean. That would. That would still be fine with me. 2:28 Wes: I just going to be called Beached. 2:35 Erin: So mean. 2:36 Wes: The I love the whale. 2:38 Erin: Yeah. 2:38 Wes: I cried, like, audibly at a theater. 2:44 Erin: He's so great. 2:45 Wes: Yeah, he's great. 2:46 Erin: But anyway, back to the conversation here about what? Did I say something about Picnic at Hanging Rock. Oh, this film is kind of like the inverse of Picnic at Hanging Rock. I thought in that Picnic is about the victory of the colonized over the colonizer that you eventually get destroyed by or defeated by the forces that you try to control. You get defeated in your attempts to fashion a narrative. Yeah. What is unknowable overtakes you and destroys your efforts at a kind of mental containment. 3:19 Wes: And again, it's contact with, like, a primal origin. 3:23 Erin: Exactly. 3:24 Wes: So in a way, it's the origin of your high level of consciousness, in a way. But it's primal. And so it can defeat that. 3:30 Erin: Yeah. And this is why the Mummy is. It's almost like a fantasy that you can feel secure as a colonizer, that you will eventually figure it out, that there is something to be figured out, that ultimately all of this has a logic that you can solve the puzzle. In fact, solve it twice over. 3:47 Wes: Right. 3:48 Erin: Because you have the first. The puzzle is about bringing the mummy to life, even though it can sometimes be accidental. There's an effort of piecing something together when the mummy comes to life. And then one has to also finish solving the puzzle or solve a second puzzle in order to then kill the mummy or send it back to the underworld or whatever the. The explanation is. And along the way, one also has to at least avoid, if not defeat, the fallout of the curse. So, yeah, so it's a fantasy about overcoming all of that. And I think the idea that makes this very psychologically suggestive is just that this, the mummy, is the puzzle that comes with its own kind of solution, in the way that Picnic at a Hanging Rock is the opposite of that, in that it's stubborn and it can't be solved. And I think the Evelyn character seems to embody this herself in that she has this maternal figure who's Egyptian, her father is English. So whatever drama is taking place with the mummy is also internalized somehow. Again, this is played with more in the Mummy Returns, which makes it stupid and weird. It turns out that Evelyn is actually the reincarnation of the pharaoh's daughter. So there's this whole Elektra dynamic thing that ends up going on. It's really, really, really ridiculous. But the female figure in the original 1932 Boris Karloff mummy, as I already said, she also has this dual heritage, this dual nature. And so the implication of that seems to me to be the idea that we have the desire to understand our own origins. So she's both puzzle and puzzle solver, and we want to figure ourselves out in order to resolve something that in us is unresolved. I think the curse, too, operates on the same logic in a way. Like I was thinking about how the curse is kind of like a conspiracy theory. You know way more about this than I do. I know this is an interest of yours, but you're applying a kind of faulty abduction to what you think is the fallout of something that has, rather than a sort of conspiratorial, systematic explanation, it has a magical explanation. So this idea of logic and mystery, or logic and magic, or the known and the unknown being sort of right next to each other for the purposes of one solving the other and therefore making you feel at peace and no longer cursed, no longer suffering under some lack of knowledge or understanding. 6:13 Wes: Right. 6:13 Erin: You figured it out. You've defeated these forces in yourself. That seems to be the kind of psychological underpinning in talking about abduction, which 6:21 Wes: I'm actually reading about right now. We're doing the philosopher Peirce on our show. So inference to the best explanation. You're making me think about her first reading of the spell. Is it a spell? That we would call it. Right. She's a curious seeker of knowledge, really. Really. She's not trying to give a theory of anything literally. Right. She's just out of curiosity, reading what's in the book. But if you were to make a comparison to abduction, it's almost like it produces its own theory in reality. And the theory is the. Is the backstory. So what it does is it raises something from the dead. It's almost like breathing life into some theoretical entity that comes back to haunt you or something like that, that attacks me. And in the case of the conspiracy theory, Right, the theorized entity is a intelligent designer of a sort, but a malicious one, a persecutory one. And you get that in this case, right? There's a persecutory entity is aroused by one's curiosity. 7:25 Erin: Yeah. Just another complication to this is the fact that the mummy has been cursed to go after whoever awakens it by some sort of overarch. I mean, in this film, it's the idea that Imhotep has violated the pharaoh's mistress and he's sentenced to the Hom-Dai and all that stuff. But the mummy itself wants to be found. So that's why this is like a perfect little puzzle box for a colonizer's self Exoneration, because the mummy wants to come back to life. So it's a curse that wants you to trip the tripwire and it wants to play itself out. So it almost has this self fulfilling prophecy or self determinism element to it as well. 8:06 Wes: Right. 8:07 Erin: It's just another way I think of twisting such a thing. I mean, it's an angle that, that the films get at which the actual Curse of the Pharaohs, as it was publicized in the 20s, that angle wasn't there. But it seems like this is the further twist to get it to make Americans and, and British people and all that like, feel, feel like they're not responsible somehow or that this has some, some will to get a toehold in the human world again, that you're almost being used as a pawn in their scheme. 8:36 Wes: It's interesting that Imhotep, he's sentenced to the worst possible punishment, but there's a real like escape clause to that, which is if you're resurrected, you get to have. Be all powerful and destroy the world and get your girlfriend back. Is that the deal? 8:54 Erin: Because you got your girlfriend? 8:55 Wes: Maybe it's worth, maybe it's worth a try. Okay, I'll take that bargain. 9:03 Erin: Right. 9:03 Wes: It's an odd sort of curse and it's an odd sort of risk to take. And it speaks to the perils of vengeance. Right. If vengeance goes too far, it can, can come back at you with a vengeance. Sorry, that was another aspect of the movie that I thought was really interesting. This, which I thought you were kind of getting a little bit there, which is the oddly risk of risky form of punishment. Right. Absolute pain, but with the risk of absolute destruction of the entire world. And again, I think it's not unrelated to the perils of romantic love where, you know, again, where the world can get blotted out by a fused or codependent, let's say in modern parlance, relationship, the same thing. You know, few parallels of fusion with a maternal object, which we've talked a lot about on this show, in relation to a failure of a paternal authority, which in this case is the pharaoh. So there's something here about not being able to mourn an object or the maternal, the ultimate beloved, and try to maintain that object high at all costs, which can lead to this kind of destruction. The reading itself bothered, you know, when she read from the book so casually and started this whole thing off, that really got to me. And she didn't get really all blamed all that much for it, like. So it's like, oops, just got a Bunch of people killed. 10:23 Erin: She doesn't have parents, so. 10:27 Wes: Did I do that? 10:28 Erin: Yeah. I mean, when we first see her in the. In the Museum of Antiquities, and she knocks down the bookcases, which I would say is a really, like, a missed opportunity, because I had a memory. I've seen this movie so many times, and I had a memory of her doing this at Hamunaptra, that she knocked down all the columns, but that's actually not in the movie, so they never do a callback to the bookcase gag, which I think is. Anyway, would have worked well, but she knocks them all down. And then the curator, who's actually a member of the Medjai, says, give me frogs, flies, locusts, anything but you. Compared to you, the plagues would be a joy. So, yeah, she's the Mummy. She's a tool of the Mummy. She is the mummy. She's an extension of the Mummy. She herself is a plague. She can read and write ancient Egyptian, as she says, and she can decipher hieroglyphics and hieratic. And she knows it all. She knows all about. All she needs is field experience. 11:26 Wes: Yeah. Underneath all of this is that kind of nerds fantasy that, you know, hey, reading books is going to make me powerful after all, like Prospero and the Tempest, because it's going to be magic. Right. There's a spell in there which I think is kind of partly unconsciously beneath for people who have given up worldly power for the sake of a life of the mind. Let's say there's this, I think, maybe unconscious temptation to an unconscious fantasy that there's some kind of power in this that just transcends the power of knowing. Right. Transcends the power of being a professor. Whatever it is one. Or a writer, or whatever it is one does. One can transform the world, cast a spell. Maybe writing is supposed to be like that. Maybe. I suppose that is the writerly fantasy that you're gonna affect other people in some way, but in this case, it becomes grandiose. Right. It's all powerful, all destructive. But yes. The kind of shy librarian out in 12:22 Erin: the field, as you were saying, not too shy. 12:24 Wes: Yeah, maybe. Yeah. Cause she's not really that shy. 12:27 Erin: She's sheltered a little. 12:28 Wes: Yeah. Sheltered, okay. Yeah. But they don't really play up that part of her character as much as they could. Right. She could be more. She's bookish, but she could be more nerdy than she is. She's goofy. They do make her goofy. Yeah. 12:42 Erin: Yeah. My favorite moment in the whole Movie is her drunk. I'm proud of what I am. I am a librarian, which is really. 12:52 Wes: Hear me roar. 12:54 Erin: Yeah. 12:55 Wes: Yeah. That is great. She says, look, I may not be an explorer or an adventurer or a treasure seeker or a gunfighter, Mr. O', Connell, but I'm proud of what I am. And he says, what is that? I am a librarian, and I'm going to kiss you, Mr. O'. Connell. Call me Rick. Doing his best Harrison Ford impression, she, of course, passes out before they can actually kiss. I should have let you read that. 13:19 Erin: No, no, no. It's way better that you read that. 13:21 Wes: Yeah. 13:24 Erin: She does say at one point explicitly, I think, that no harm ever came from reading a book. 13:30 Wes: Oh, yeah. 13:31 Erin: So this romance between o' Connell and Evie is, I think, part of the lasting appeal of this film, which I literally saw a car a couple years ago that had a bumper sticker on it, and I looked up the bumper stickers. Honk if you'd rather be watching the 1999 cinematic masterpiece, the Mummy, starring Brendan Fraser and Rachel Weisz. This is a real bumper sticker that I have seen in the world. 13:56 Wes: Does it go the whole bumper? It's a long one. 13:59 Erin: It's yellow and kind of fat. I didn't really give much thought to this, but does it have a parallel or a. An origin somewhere that we could think of? He's sort of. What's the term that people use? Like a himbo. You know what I'm talking about? I mean, he's intelligent and resourceful, right? But he's definitely the brawn and she's the brain. I guess it's just like a Beauty and the Beast thing, only he's also beautiful. So. Yeah, but, yeah, bookish girl and big, brawny guy who is sort of antagonizing her, but also who inherently respects her and does whatever she wants. 14:35 Wes: Sort of like Harrison Ford in Star Wars. I mean, even though this film is often compared to Raiders of the Lost Ark, the attitude of Rick is more like, I think, Harrison Ford in Star wars, where he's sort of Han Solo is kind of cynical, and I guess the Rick character. Could you call him cynical? 14:52 Erin: I mean, he's willing to go back there, and he's. For a guy who almost died by hanging, he bounces back pretty fast. 14:58 Wes: He's worldly and not idealistic, practical in certain ways and all that stuff. So he is above love in that sense. He's not explicitly that he made out to be a womanizer or something like that, but he's the bachelor par excellence. And he's in a very different position than Imhotep, who is consumed by love to the point of risking everything, not just his life, but being eternally cursed. 15:27 Erin: You're making me realize how much of a nerd Princess Leia is. I wouldn't have thought of her in that way, but that's basically what she is. She's kind of nerdy. 15:37 Wes: Yeah. With those buns, you know, she belongs in. But she's much more feisty than Evelyn, I think. 15:45 Erin: Yeah. She's angry. 15:46 Wes: Yeah. Her and Han Solo, really. Yeah. Annoy the shit out of each other. 15:52 Erin: Yeah. 15:53 Wes: In a way that. There's some of that in this, but it's much more benign, I think. 15:58 Erin: Well, I mean, we could talk maybe about the three Americans. I don't know if you have anything to say about them. They're kind of just there to be caricatures of Americans and then to get their flesh sucked off their bodies. Yeah. It does give some funny opportunities for a comment by Jonathan, for instance, which Rick seems to sort of escape. 16:19 Wes: What does he say? 16:19 Erin: You know, they're all holding. Holding a gun in each hand and shooting all the Medjai when they come on the boat. And all Jonathan says when he looks at them, he sort of looks with disgust and says, americans, you know, because they're all, like, hooting and saying, yee haw. I don't know. It just makes us look like badasses. But not for long. They're kind of fun. And I guess it occurred to me, too, in making the connection between the Mummy and the vampire, which I suppose I still haven't talked about, just the fact that you have the. In Dracula, you know, you have the three. They're not all three Americans. Only one is American. But you have the three guys, you know, that each proposed to Mina, or whatever her name is. I haven't read this in a long time, but they're the trio that fight Dracula. So it almost seems like that's something that the movie is explicitly playing with, because these three figures, it doesn't quite line up with the figures in the 1932 mummy, so they seem to be bringing in more Stoker. But my favorite character in the movie is Dr. Bombay. Winston, are you a Bewitched fan? 17:21 Wes: I did watch Bewitched a bit as a kid, but it's been so long. Yeah. I can't call myself a fan. 17:28 Erin: Yeah. 17:28 Wes: But I did watch quite a bit of it on reruns as a kid, so. 17:32 Erin: Good. I love Dr. Bombay. 17:33 Wes: Yeah. 17:34 Erin: And I love Winston. I love that character. I was initially thinking about him as a kind of. Obviously some sort of ultimate figure of colonialism, but he's actually kind of the opposite of the Mummy. 17:46 Wes: How do you mean? 17:47 Erin: He's not at all about being obsessed with a single woman. He seems both completely uninterested in women and also interested in any woman at any given moment. He's seen with a woman on his arm and he's just getting drunk all the time. So he's this figure of dissipation and doesn't seem particularly attached to anyone. And his lack of attachment makes him just the perfect figure to want to sacrifice himself for some cause. His only attachment seems to be to die some sort of glorious and heroic death because he feels guilty for being a survivor and he just wants to go out with a bang. So no attachments in this world. No desire to get back to some sort of past of his? Well, there is actually. Okay, now that I'm talking through this, it's interesting, right? There is a desire to sort of undo the past, to undo the fact of his survival, but it's about pressing the eject button and just getting out, getting out of this world entirely. His desire for this glorious death is about being useful and then disappearing. As the oldest maybe character in the film, he's an interesting counterpoint to the truly old characters in the film. Like Imhotep. 19:05 Wes: Yeah, he says, I just wish I could have chucked it in with the others and gone down in flame and glory instead of sitting around here rotting of boredom and booze. Yeah, well, they give him his glory in the end. 19:18 Erin: Yeah, he's just, yeah. The perfect opposite, I guess, to the Mummy. Where the film, if it does fall apart in any locatable place or if the whole thing is just kind of a silly. A silly mess. Lovable mess. Perhaps it's when the Mummy transports both Benny and Evelyn back to Hamunaptra in some sort of self created sand tornado, he becomes sand at one point to go through her keyhole. That sounded dirty. Just saying that. I regret that. Yeah, I don't know, but best not to look at that too closely. But maybe I should just use that as the way into talking about the vampire thing for a second. The thing about the vampire is that the vampire is rapacious. Much more a figure of, say, sex rather than love. And someone who wants to constantly make new conquests. As opposed to this pharaoh who seems to only be, or not pharaoh. As opposed to this mummy who seems to only be giving his attentions to Evie as a way to secure her as some human sacrifice so he can get his girlfriend back. He still only has one woman in mind. I thought of you the whole time. I guess. Also another difference that occurs to me. So we have him sucking the life out of these American guys. So obviously there's something vampiric about that, but it's in order to reconstitute his 20:43 Wes: own, just add American flesh. 20:46 Erin: Yeah, it's very, very Silence of the Lambs. But yeah, it's, I suppose, kind of about stealing the life force, but not really. And then I was also thinking about the vampire as being just alive forever and therefore not tied to a particular time, sort of to a place, but not really. You know, he has his castle and he does sleep in a coffin and stuff like that. But he's not really specifically identified with a particular culture. Whereas the mummy is obviously more rooted in a historical context. So it seems as though the mummy is more about both through this constant love object and through the particular culture out of which he comes. Much more about history and the past in a specific sense rather than this sort of sexualized undead threat that can appear anywhere and overtake you. 21:40 Wes: So what's our taxonomy of the undead? We have mummies, vampires, zombies, Is that it? Are there any other major undead categories in films? 21:53 Erin: I don't know if Frankenstein's monster is enough to be a category unto itself. That's a zombie, right? 21:59 Wes: He's a category unto himself. 22:00 Erin: Oh, okay. 22:01 Wes: He's not really a zombie. He's, you know, he reads Milton, right? Come on. 22:07 Erin: He's an electrical man. 22:09 Wes: Also, he's part very, very sensitive guy. Yeah, he's not very good looking. Actually. He's really good looking in the movie. Did you see the. 22:20 Erin: I haven't. 22:22 Wes: The recent movie. Yeah, they make him. No, he's a very good looking actor, which I thought was like, all right, he's still stitched together, but, you know, you got a good face and he's very tall. But any case. Yeah. So I think he's in a category of his own. Zombies. Yeah. I'm just thinking about my different feelings of the effectiveness of these different. I guess none of them really do it for me. 22:44 Erin: Vampires do it for me, really. But yeah, I maybe have to have a blood disorder to really. 22:50 Wes: Oh, yeah. Well, there you go. Yeah. Have you tried that for your blood disorder? Yeah, exactly, you sod. About zombie films. I don't. Philosophically, socially, it interests me because it's about the collective. What is the zombie? I think it's about old people, really, but stumbling around trying to Eat us because they envious or the dead. 23:14 Erin: Yeah, but that's also what vampires are about to a certain extent. Yeah, yeah. Basically this is all. They're all mummies is what you're saying. They're all the past trying to. 23:24 Wes: Yeah. 23:25 Erin: Trying to feast on the living and 23:27 Wes: the envy of the past for the living. So we, you know, of course, you know, we, we live by their rules. Right. All of our norms, as I was saying. Right. So the civilization is. Right. Has its formative origins and influences in these ancient civilizations. And then our dead ancestors, often the norms, at least their packaging. Right. Was determined by those who live before us. And we just sort of adopt their ways so they continue to live on in us. And sometimes we live on in very zombie like ways. It's like, well, I'm living by this code of ethics or these desires and things that I'm supposed to want and I, I don't know why I want them and I don't know who put this into me, you know, my parents or my culture or whatever. And so we do stump, you know, sometimes stumble around in the zombie like way in the state of pseudo desire. Right. The zombie is enough, I think in that state. Can't really desire. It doesn't. I mean it's animate, but not animate anyway, you get the, you get to get the picture. But you know, we, we can feel norms, the norms given to us by the dead as persecutory. But also I think there's some sort of fear of like the guilt, survivor guilt, you know, that produces a persecutory fantasy like the dead are going to come back for us. 24:44 Erin: Hmm. 24:44 Wes: It's not enough for them to persecute us with our harsh super in the form of a harsh superego. Right. And strict mores or values. They've got to come back in person and take life back from us. So those kinds of thoughts I find very interesting. But a bunch of zombies stumbling around like I think I could get away. It doesn't do it for me. I know. They make them faster now, I guess in some movies. What's it called? The Z. What was it called? 25:13 Erin: World War Z and then the Walking Dead. 25:16 Wes: I just. Yeah, I can't explain why. It just, it has no emotional effect for me. 25:21 Erin: Yeah, I feel the same way. The key with the zombie is that it might get you and then you become one of the undead too. And you. And I think this goes to your reading of these. The idea that the zombie is the victim of large cultural forces seems to be reinforced by the fact that the zombie is always part of a larger body of people. Whereas the vampire and the mummy seem more cult of personality, like they seem more. More individualistic and they have their own specific thing that they're after or about self employed. Right, right. Where. Where in the vampire it's maybe more appetitive and in the mummy it's more about. It's more intellectual, you could say, because it's more about memory and the past. 26:02 Wes: Yeah, there's more association of lust, I guess with vampires and with zombies it's a lack of, you know, again, like a pseudo desire. And desire. Not desire to do anything except to spread the. They reproduce, but they reproduce themselves by biting. Right. 26:19 Erin: It's not. 26:19 Wes: Not sexual reproduction or reproduction through love. So. And then in the case of the mummy, I think it's more about love. Right. We have lust, we have the aggression, at least in this story. Or maybe it's about knowing, maybe it's about knowledge, you know, the kind of things that you've pointed to. We're curious, but then we're greeted with something incomprehensible. This also makes me think of Peirce because he's kind of pointing to the ways in which knowledge is grounded in the incomprehensible. Right. Because at some point some kind of raw data comes in. It's unconceptualized and unknown. Kant calls this the manifold. And it's. Or it's the thing in itself. The alien unknowable thing in itself. Behind the manifold, perhaps. God, we have this weird situation where you're trying to cross the gap by knowing. But the very concept of knowledge implies something unknowable and alien and perhaps even persecutory. So again, once again, the curiosity, and the kind of benign curiosity of being in a museum looking at ancient artifacts could become fraught in some way. 27:24 Erin: I knew we'd get to Kant. I knew we'd be justified. 27:26 Wes: Sorry. 27:27 Erin: In choosing this film. No, I love it. I love it. 27:30 Wes: Yeah. It turns out Peirce was a big Kantian and Hegelian and it's just shocking to me how little I know about him and how profound he is. But. But anyway, final words. 27:40 Erin: I just. I hope I've proved to you how profound this film is. 27:45 Wes: I will. I will take it under consideration. No, I enjoyed it. I enjoyed it. 27:52 Erin: Okay, well, thank you. And careful what you read. 27:57 Wes: Thank you.

    • Transcript
  • July 29 · length unknown

    Curses and Colonizers in “The Mummy” (1999)

    As a cinematic monster, the mummy seems less an embodiment of revenge against colonial forces than a figure invented by colonialism itself. On the one hand, the mummy represents mystery, romance, magic, and the East. His wrappings suggest to the imagination that he’s not just dead, but wounded—ripped from a lost time and a broken narrative. Conveniently for the colonizer’s psyche, the mummy actually longs for someone to violate his tomb and wake him—not least so that his curse can lay systematic waste to its victims. And that brings us to the other hand: the mummy as a scientific and historical artifact, an ancient puzzle which requires anthropological, archeological, and linguistic knowledge to solve. The very apparatus of the mummy’s tomb—his body locked in box upon box, his organs apportioned to canopic jars, hieroglyphic inscriptions on every surface—suggest the complexity of the undertaking. What might these two strands of the mummy’s DNA—in Shakespearean terms, part-Antony, part-Cleopatra—reveal about the relationship between colonizer and colonized, and about our own desires, fears, and guilt? Wes & Erin discuss the 1999 film, “The Mummy.” Upcoming Episodes: Elizabeth Bishop poetry, including “The Moose” Pre-order Erin’s forthcoming book “Avail” here: http://subtextpodcast.com/avail For bonus content, become a paid subscriber at Patreon or directly on the Apple Podcasts app. Patreon subscribers also get early access to ad-free regular episodes. Also from Wes: Curtain Times, a calendar of Boston theatre, classical, talks and readings. Follow: Twitter | Facebook | Website Transcript 0:11 Erin: As a cinematic monster, the Mummy seems less an embodiment of revenge against colonial forces than a figure invented by colonialism itself. On the one hand, the Mummy represents mystery, romance, magic, and the East. His wrappings suggest to the imagination that he's not just dead, but wounded. Ripped from a lost time and a broken narrative, conveniently for the colonizer's psyche, the Mummy actually longs for someone to violate his tomb and wake him, not least so that his curse can lay systematic waste to its victims. And that brings us to the other hand, the Mummy as a scientific and historical artifact, an ancient puzzle which requires anthropological, archaeological and linguistic knowledge to solve. The very apparatus of the mummy's tomb, his body locked in box upon box, his organs apportioned to canopic jars, hieroglyphic inscriptions on every surface suggest the complexity of the undertaking. What might these two strands of the Mummy's DNA, in Shakespearean terms, part Antony, part Cleopatra, reveal about the relationship between colonizer and colonized and about our own desires, fears, and guilt? Today, we're discussing the 1999 film the Mummy. This is Erin O'Luanaigh. This is Wes Alwan, and you're listening to Subtext. So, Wes, I have two questions to start us off today. The first is, is this the silliest thing we've covered on the podcast to date, or was elf sillier? 1:41 Wes: That's a good question. It depends on what you mean by silly. Elf is sillier, but this is the most frivolous choice we've made. 1:54 Erin: I'm trying to figure out if you're mad at me for selecting this or if our listeners are going to be mad at me. 2:00 Wes: I hadn't seen it, except it might have been on in the background when I met my father when I was around 22, and he had hundreds and hundreds of VHS tapes of various movies that he had pirated. And there was always a movie on in the background when I was hanging out with my siblings. And I vaguely remember scenes from this because they were on in the background, but I had never actually seen the movie, and it didn't. I like mummy film. Horror films in general don't appeal to me, but mummy films especially, for some reason. 2:28 Erin: Oh, no. 2:30 Wes: So, yeah, it's not the kind of thing I would end up watching on my own, but it's an interesting. I could see, you know, I started. I saw immediately why it would be up your alley. Because of, like, screwball ish comedy. Right. It operates in two dimensions, so that was interesting. 2:45 Erin: This came out when I was 8 years old. We had this local video store that I used to go to to rent movies. When you walked in the door, there was a huge cardboard. I guess the technical term for it is a standee. You know, those big cardboard displays that they'll have in movie theaters or wherever to publicize a film? There was a huge display of the Mummy with different characters and right when you came in. So to me, it's sort of the ultimate summer blockbuster film because that was the thing you saw whenever you came in. And more often than not, you know, I was suggestible enough to think, oh, I could go for watching the Mummy again. Super fun to watch at a sleepover or on a summer night. So I love this film. I mean, I'm gonna try to expand our conversation to talk about the mummy in general, which I do think is kind of an interesting concept. And maybe we could talk about why you find mummies particularly uninteresting. But that leads me to my second question. 3:41 Wes: You can analyze me a little bit. 3:43 Erin: Leads me to my second question, which is, are mummies scary? And maybe this is why you don't like them. Because I think I have an answer to this, and I think yours is going to be the same. I don't know. 3:53 Wes: Yeah, I don't know. I was thinking about this film in relation to other horror films, including Alien, because we did that one. And. And I think it's a great film. And also the Exorcist, which I think is a great film. I was thinking, well, I'm not entirely opposed to horror. I'm not into horror films, but I'm not entirely opposed to it. And those two films have, like, a solid thematic essence to them involving relationships like, you know, Regan on the verge of puberty and an absent father and then an alien. The relationships between the ship members kind of alienated. And then this lack of a paternal authority. Just. Just like there is in the Exorcist and the ship computer called Mother. There's always a mother thing going on. It's hard not to think of that with the Mummy as well. But. So I was thinking. I'm not into jump scare films. I don't get. Although, you know, I guess I went to see it. Is that what it's called? The Clown? 4:52 Erin: Yeah. 4:53 Wes: Terrifying movie. And I actually did enjoy the. You know, because the audience would jump and then we'd all laugh at being kind of taken in. So. So maybe I do. You know, this is not. It's not very. A very fruitful analysis. We're conducting here. I'm too conflicted. But. But mummies in particular. Let's get to the point. Are mummies in particular scary? I don't think so. Horror movies used to scare me as a kid, big time. The Exorcist scared the crap out of me because even though I wasn't religious at that point, part of me believed in the devil just, just in sanctuary and I couldn't deal with it. And then other horror films, it like got into my bones in a way they just can't do as an adult. So in general, I don't think I can be scared in the deeper way that I used to be scared when I was a kid. And then this, you know, because this is also romantic comedy, I find it hard to be. To find any of it scary. Exactly. So, yeah, say more what you mean about scary and whether mummies are scary. 5:48 Erin: I just don't think they're scary. And that's one of the reasons why I like this movie. Right. Is because it's not scary. I mean, I don't like horror movies either. Right. But I like that. I like the Mummy as a concept. It's interesting to think of it in the Universal monster movie context and the Mummy as a monster. You could approach that from a lot of different angles. It's, you know, it's a dead body come to life. I mean, I think there's elements of the zombie in the Mummy. There's elements of the vampire and the Mummy in certain ways much, much closer to the vampire. But maybe we could tweeze that out a bit. I think the Mummy as a monster figure is scary, if you really think about it, which is a way of saying that it's not scary. So that's why you need, you know, the accompanying curse. Though maybe you can't really separate the Mummy from the curse, but you know, the Mummy that can unhinge its jaws and become sand and at some point Imhotep's little mummy army is climbing on the walls. That becomes a bigger part of the Mummy Returns, which is a truly bad film. I love it, but it's a truly bad film. So I didn't make us do that. Peeling the flesh off of people's bones and then also you have to throw in the scarabs. So you basically need this entire cast of supporting scary things, I think, in order to make the Mummy work as a horror film. I don't quite think of this as a horror film. I mean, part of it is also just the way that the CGI has aged Technically, of course, it has horror tropes, but it's just not that scary to me. Maybe what's kind of scary about it, in a thinky way, is related to the main reading of mummies that I'm interested in exploring, which are. Which is something like the mummy as a colonial fantasy. The colonizer goes into a place that doesn't belong to them, and then they start literally and metaphorically exhuming the culture that they've entered, either to leech off of it or destroy it. And then there's this curse idea. So they awaken this curse, which it seems anti colonial, like it's payback for disturbing the mummy. But in fact, it really kind of serves the colonizer in a way, because the mummy actually wants to come back to life. It actually wants you to disturb it. It wants you to fall into the trap of the curse. So the colonizer is kind of, in that sense, exonerated from the act of meddling in the first place and from colonizing in the first place by the psychology of this curse or the psychology of the mummy wanting to return to life. And then the colonizer has to also kill the mummy and restore order. So they cause the problem, sort of, but it's really more the mummy's fault or the mummy was asking for it. And so they caused the problem, then they themselves are the solution. And I guess that's a scary dynamic in itself for what it reveals about the colonial or the imperial psyche. But I also think that this dynamic can be extended in all sorts of directions. So it might reflect something in each of us about our own relationships to the past. Something silly like maybe we're all colonizers and we all have mummies inside of us that want to come back to life, and our job is to kill that part of ourselves and that desire to reenact the past or something like that. And maybe that. Maybe there's something scary about that, that element, whatever you want to call it, from something as. Maybe as simplistic as the return of the repressed to something like giving up on previous versions of ourselves or whatever the case may be. I mean, in this, in the mummy movies, it's a lost love that has to be ultimately abandoned or. Yeah, I don't know that that's scary, but that's the best I could do. 9:28 Wes: Well, I think once you start relating it to relationships, whether it's between colonizer and colonized or whether it's a love relationship, then it becomes scary. 9:36 Erin: Yeah, exactly. 9:37 Wes: Relationships are scary. But I think the key word There is preservation because the mummy, obviously, is a preserved. And I guess for the ancient Egyptians, it had something to do with preservation into the afterlife. Right. Why did they do it? Do you have firmer knowledge than me about this? Our research team was on vacation this 10:02 Erin: week, if I remember correctly. And see, this is. The other thing is, of course, I'm sure you had. Didn't we talk about this? You had an Egyptology phase, didn't you, as a kid? 10:11 Wes: Yeah, my grandmother was very into it and there were lots of books around, so I was very fascinated by it. And even today, one of the first thing I do when I go into a museum is go to the Egypt section. And the sense of being in contact with things that are that old and ancient, just crossing that gap is just very powerful for me. And you can look at the signs and it's, you know, this is 2500 BC, and yet these artifacts are so well preserved. And so you can think of. Try to place yourself back then. But the pictogram writing is so weird and alien. It almost is like aliens. And even I think some of the alien aesthetic. Right. Is in films from actual aliens is borrowed from ancient Egypt. So there's something about. Yeah. That combination of preservation and of artifacts and alienness that. That is really powerful. 11:07 Erin: Yeah. When I was a kid, I took a. I don't know if I ever told you this. I took a correspondence course on hieroglyphics from the Oriental Institute. 11:14 Wes: Oh, wow. 11:15 Erin: But, yeah, I was really into it, so another reason why I loved this movie. 11:19 Wes: Are you still. Are you fluent in hieroglyphics? 11:21 Erin: No, I can. I can recognize some things. 11:25 Wes: But apparently they did. They did speak actual, you know, reconstructed ancient Egyptian in the film. Yes, that's what I saw. Yeah. 11:33 Erin: You know, just one of the many great things about this masterpiece. 11:38 Wes: That kind of attention to detail. 11:40 Erin: Exactly. 11:41 Wes: You know, really lends itself to verisimilitude of. 11:46 Erin: The thing that always bothers me is 11:47 Wes: they say waking up and running around. Yeah. 11:49 Erin: The. The five canopic jars. And he's like, there are only four. That's such a basic thing to get wrong. But anyway, if I remember correctly, and I did not look this up beforehand, I'm sorry, but I believe that the Egyptians thought that you had three souls and that the preservation of the body involved needing a place for all of these souls to meet for you to become reincarnated. 12:12 Wes: Oh, right. 12:13 Erin: So that's funny. 12:14 Wes: We actually did a little bit of ancient Egyptian philosophy on the show. I'm part of, The Partially Examined Life, recently. 12:21 Erin: Was there anything interesting there? 12:24 Wes: Some stuff about. Yeah, there's these different souls. So we read something called the Instructions and one of the things we read was a dialogue between a man and his soul. One of the souls, the soul that was supposed to carry it off to the afterlife, I think. But it's just stuff taken from fragments of papyrus, basically. And I was surprised that so much writing survived. 12:49 Erin: I have some book on the Book of the Dead somewhere packed away in my. I have a lot of my library packed away right now. But, you know, a lot of the stuff like you can. You can read what's in there. And it's a lot of spells and a lot of protection type. It's not quite as interesting as it sounds. And of course, this is one of the controversies about, I think about the curse of the Pharaohs is that a lot of the supposed warnings about disturbing the body or else the curse will come for you were actually invented by newspapers in the 20s as a result of the fervor around King Tut's tomb. And the idea back then. Right. You know, I didn't. I didn't get the chance to actually research this further, but I was also reading that mummies were ground up and they were kept in people's like, medicine cabinets and they were actually. Yeah. And they were actually used. So. No. Another reason why I inherently love mummies. They're actually used as a coagulant. So Which I find so interesting. I don't know what the psychology of that is about or what that's about, except that they think that mummies are dried up bodies. So it'll dry up your cut or. I have no idea. But gross. It's also, you know, further like vampire connection, I guess, sort of. 14:04 Wes: Yeah, it's a good point. And now that, you know there's a preservation element in vampires too, right. Also to the point of eternal life. I mean, with preservation, I think we're gonna. We'll talk a bit about the love element, right? To this idea of everlasting love. I think that this movie brings in with it Imhotep and Anck Su Namun. How do you pronounce it? 14:27 Erin: Anck Su Namun. 14:28 Wes: Anck Su Namun. Anck Su Namun. 14:31 Erin: Or Marta, you can call her either one. 14:34 Wes: Oh, yeah. I know. It took me a while to figure that out. 14:37 Erin: But it's always an arrested development connection for us in every episode. 14:41 Wes: The thing that the Egyptians did with mummies is weird and gross. Right. We all know that. 14:46 Erin: Sort of. I mean, it's also kind of just Kidding. 14:48 Wes: Yeah. 14:49 Erin: Okay. 14:50 Wes: But it lends itself to the idea, okay, what are they being preserved for? Yeah, okay. The afterlife. Sure. But maybe they were being preserved for us in our museums. But also, I think, like the wrapping up in bandages, like a burn victim type thing, you know, it lends itself to the idea that, okay, well, maybe they could come back to life. And it connects to certain, I guess, folktales about the dangers of preservation. Right. Or fairy tales. I wish I could live forever, but then I live as a rotting corpse. 15:22 Erin: Or like, death becomes her. Have you seen that? 15:25 Wes: No, I haven't, actually. I know. 15:28 Erin: It's related to this idea. You live forever, but then you become disgusting and you have all these problems. Yeah, right. 15:34 Wes: It's like. It's like the. You know, the fairy tales where you have a wish and it's, be careful what you wish for. Because there's always a downside. Right. The wish is misinterpreted in some way or comes with a downside you didn't expect or something like that. But anyway, so, yeah, so there's the wish for eternal life, and then there's also the wish for eternal love, which I think this movie plays on. 15:55 Erin: It's interesting how the movie coalesces a lot of different things that are. I mean, it's almost a compendium of different symbols that the Mummy represents. So a really old idea about the Mummy is that they're a figure of pathos and a romantic figure, and they're actually a bunch of Victorian stories about people having romances with mummies or the Mummy being a figure of unrequited love. And I take this to be a really suggestive part of the Mummy's appearance, that the bandages suggest that he's somehow wounded or that he comes out of a wounded or incomplete or somehow interrupted past, or a narrative that he wasn't able to. To carry out and sort of wrenched out of that narrative. Right. So the wrapping seemed to suggest that interrupted life or that unrequited love. That was kind of where people's minds first went with the Mummy, this idea of the romantic lover separated from the beloved by death. And in the 1932 Mummy, that film also has the unrequited love thing with the Anck Su Namun figure and then Boris Karloff. I was really surprised by this when I went back and rewatched it. It's a really boring film. The beginning has a lot of interesting ideas about colonization, that the film then drops. But Karloff just kind of walks around, you know, trying to pretend to Be some normal guy even though he has really bad social skills. And he kind of hypnotizes the female figure in the film, the one who sort of lines up with Evelyn. He's almost like a Mesmer figure or very similar to the vampire where he hypnotizes her and draws her to him. And she is somehow. It's not really explained very well in the film, but she's somehow the reincarnation of Anck Su Namun, much like evelyn in the 1999 film. Something is made of the fact that she might be some sort of distant ancestor because she's also half Egyptian and half English like the Evelyn character. 17:54 Wes: So I think if some of that had been preserved, it could have made for a more powerful emotional content to the film. Right. Because in this case the threat is all just external to Evelyn. It's not like she is being possessed or seduced or something. 18:11 Erin: No. Well, he does kiss her at certain points and he does confuse her with Anck Su Namun. So I think they're trying to make that connection. 18:17 Wes: She kisses him too, I think. 18:19 Erin: Oh yes. To distract him. 18:20 Wes: The only completed kiss is she kisses him. 18:24 Erin: That's right. I don't want to know what a completed kiss is. Anyway. 18:30 Wes: He does get his tongue though back by then, I think. Sorry. 18:34 Erin: No, but she's supposed to be the human sacrifice for Anck Su Namun. Because one of the things that I guess I figured out about the the economy of this film is that Imhotep needs several men to become fully reincarnated. But I guess Anck Su Namun only needs one. It's just a one to one ratio for. For a woman. I really wonder about a lot of things in this movie and the logic. Like stealing the blind guys eyes and then the fact that the mummy doesn't need glasses. 19:01 Wes: But anyway, how about all you have to do is carry around the cat and you'd be good. 19:07 Erin: Oh yeah, exactly. Yeah. 19:09 Wes: And they don't. I mean the first thing I do if I found that out is round up a bunch of cats, go to the shelter. 19:17 Erin: Exactly. 19:19 Wes: So that bothered me a bit. There's some few plot or in the beginning when like does she have to kill her? I guess she's trapped. So she does have to kill herself. Like that's the. That's the logical plan for him to resurrect her. Why couldn't they just escape together? 19:36 Erin: She so believed that he. See, this is like a perfect example of oh what, what do they say now? The opposite of he's just not that into you. Like, if you. If you. Oh, if he. If he wanted to, he would. That's the. The. The current dating advice. Right. So she was so assured of his love for her that she knew that all she had to do was kill her would find a way. 19:57 Wes: Oh, she's playing hard to get. Okay. 19:59 Erin: No, no, no. She's not playing hard to get. She's expressing full trust in his ability to overcome death, to rescue her. He's devoted. 20:09 Wes: You know, it's a love that's supposed to transcend everything. And as we know, that kind of love, there's a danger to it. Right. It can kind of blot out the world. And in this case, it could literally blot out the world once it's resurrected. So I think that's one of the ideas here, whether it's well thought out, is that this level of intensity in love can be destructive. And that's offset, of course, by the relationship, Rick and Evelyn, where they have a healthy level of antagonism. This is going back to Much Ado or screwball comedies. Right? The healthy level of antagonism that prevents you from trying to mummify and resurrect and get into all that creepy stuff. You know, keep it. Keep some boundaries. A little antagonism. 21:05 Erin: Well, they're together against the forces of death. Yeah. So in a way, they have a. They have a joint project of trying to. Trying to resurrect each other. 21:15 Wes: I'd like to see what happens if they. If Imhotep had succeeded and then 20 years into their relationship. I'd like to, like, a window in on that. He's sitting on the couch watching tv, and she's yelling at him about something. No, she's like, bandages on the floor. 21:34 Erin: Yeah, it's really good. No, no. She's like, I'm going out. And he's like, where. Where are you going? Just. God, I'm just getting drinks with my friends. 21:42 Wes: Leave me alone. 21:43 Erin: I'm allowed to spend some time away from you. 21:47 Wes: There you go. Ultimately, she ends up getting a restraining order on him. I resurrected you. You belong to me. 22:00 Erin: She gets half the contents of the tomb. 22:04 Wes: Yeah, there you go. So, you know. Yeah, it's all good until you succeed. Until then, it's tragic and eternal. 22:13 Erin: I like this idea that you're maybe the claustrophobia of this kind of relationship or this idea of preservation because it' related directly to the mummification ritual. You know, the loading up the tomb and trying to create the perfect conditions whereby you can survive. And somehow the effort expended on this is fruitless. One of the ideas behind whether or not there was actually a curse of the pharaohs specifically involved in King Tut's tomb. Whether or not people who entered the tomb were more susceptible to illness had to do with the fact that they would put food in the tomb, assuming that you would have to eat once you were reincarnated or after death or whatever. And so that food eventually, of course, went very, very, very bad. And there was bacteria found in the tomb that could cause a bunch of. A bunch of problems, including pneumonia and some of the people who entered the tomb. Yeah. But I think the idea is that there was this bacteria in the tomb, but that it wasn't enough to infect you or that it couldn't have survived for that long. You know, they found, like, the dead bacteria, something like that. But anyway, it was decomposing over thousands of years, releasing all of these acids and chemicals, and also the bugs that were eating these, you know, all of the. The fish and the. All those things that were in there, then those bugs themselves decomposing and creating really gross things inside this little lockbox. So, yeah, there's something, I don't know, maybe accidentally, metaphorically putrid. Right. About. About that whole concept of trying to preserve something unnaturally beyond its, you know, say it's sell by date. 23:56 Wes: Yeah. Like in Frankenstein, which we'll do eventually with. Right. He's reassembling, taking pieces of corpses and putting them together. And you almost say. Reminds me of high school when we did dissection, which I hated with a passion, in part because of the formaldehyde smell you get all over you. That you couldn't just do anything about this, you know, beyond the grossness of doing the dissections themselves. But it's, you know, I imagine, like the body of Frankenstein is sort of like a. Yeah. It's preserved, but it's not preserved in life. Right. It's preserved in death somehow. It doesn't decay. And you can do things with it, and maybe if it's your body, you can do things with it, but there's something dead about it at the same time. So the intention of seeing someone off into the afterlife, and I suppose it must have been largely symbolic, or maybe there was a. You know, did they literally believe they needed to eat? Or maybe it was a big controversy. Did they really eat the food or did they just symbolically eat. Right. The transubstantiation. 24:57 Erin: Yes. Yeah, they really believed that. Yep. 25:01 Wes: And there were factions and wars and. No. So anyway, yeah, the attempt at preservation, I think that, you know, your point is well taken. Can preserve something at the cost of its putridness. And then going to your colonialism idea. 19th century Egypt is a very different place than ancient Egypt. It's already been colonized, right, by a completely different culture. So the relationship is between the modern Egyptians of the time and that ancient culture, which is alien and also exploiters and, you know, like Napoleon and colonizers and conquerors who have that relationship not just to the local culture, but also to this ancient culture, which I think serves as a object of at least two impulses. One of them is just for the treasure and the other is this curiosity. And maybe there's a morbid curiosity there. What is it about our curiosity when we go into a museum? What's so fascinating about all of this stuff to us? And is there something a bit pernicious about it? Right, so there's something about the incredible preservation of a culture that's so ancient that is exciting and fascinating. But then we have to think about our relationship to that and what that's about, I suppose. Is it entirely well intentioned? 26:24 Erin: It seems to me. On the one hand, part of the intention is to feel a lack of difference or to feel some connection with this ancient time, with this culture that's really different from one's own. One wants to feel a connection to this. And that's a big part of the motivation for, say, going to the museum. But then also you want that difference preserved as well. You want to feel that this is thrilling and exotic and different from you. So you want to relate to it on the one hand and also don't want to on the other, or you don't want it to relate to you. You know, that push pull is also in the figure of the mummy. I don't know if I'm characterizing that in a way you would agree with. 27:06 Wes: We're looking into the past in a way. I think we're looking at our own origins. The origins are supposed to explain something about us, right? In a way they've given. They are not just our predecessors, but our progenitors. Right. Our ancient culture, you know, you remember in history class, it's kind of taught as if these ancient cultures were sort of the right. They're giving birth to everything that follows. We are who we are as civilized, supposedly people. Our civilization is built on top of those civilizations. So we look at those origins. It's almost like the fascination with parentage in a certain way. But also we can't overcome the alien ness of those origins. It's not unlike a relationship to deities and religion, where it's something about focusing on an origin. But also the concept of the alien is. Is ever a problem, or at least according to certain philosophers. Right. Hegel thought he was kind of solving that problem. Like faith in the Kantian sense leaves God too much of an alien presence because he's unknowable. And Hegel wants to say he's. Well, actually, he is knowable. So in this case, it's the unknowableness of the. Of Egyptian culture. Culture because it does remain really weird and alien. It's like it's hard to get your mind. It's hard to. Just hard to imagine what it would be like to be a person back then in that kind of society. Maybe this feeling is superficial. Maybe, you know, maybe we shouldn't look at hieroglyphs and various other artifacts and the strangeness of mummification and think that it's all that different. Right. These are people who are just people and have the same everyday concerns as we do. But I think part of it has something to do with this idea of feeling like we're trying to come to terms with a kind of origin that is nevertheless alien to us. It's no coincidence that people want to say the pyramids were created by aliens and that in a way, it's another sort of creation myth. They want to. Alien style. Where did human beings come from? Well, from aliens. You know, never mind the theological questions that arise from that. Where did the aliens come from? Why don't we just go straight to the source? We really need the middleman. 29:23 Erin: But anyway, yeah, what you were saying, even before you connected it, I was thinking, oh, yeah, this sounds. You're exactly right. This sounds just like aliens. And that, I think, is something that we also covered in our podcast on Alien. The idea that this is maybe part of what the film was exploring was obviously was sex itself or something about the sex organs themselves. And therefore also this idea of parentage and who our progenitors are, and the Egyptians are sort of filling that same role. The aliens that placed us here in some way. Yeah. So I think that's interesting. I had thought about, you know, Mummy versus Zombie, Mummy versus Vampire, but I really think Mummy and Alien are really the closest relatives. And I should have thought of that because I was also thinking about this film in relationship to Picnic at Hanging Rock, or maybe even a mirror image of Picnic at Hanging Rock and the kind of lessons of colonization that that film has. Maybe we could start with that in part two and Then maybe transition to looking at the film a little bit more closely. Though I still have a lot to. I feel like, to say about just the figure of the mummy itself, but we'll. We'll try to dive into it a little more. 30:29 Wes: Yeah. And get into the romantic comedy aspect too. 30:32 Erin: Sure. Thank you. 30:34 Wes: Thank you.

    • Transcript
  • June 29 · 43 min

    Existence and Expectancy in “Waiting for Godot” (Part 2)

    Who is Godot? Whether God, objet a, or an abstraction from any object that is supposed to resolve dramatic suspense, it is clear that Vladimir and Estragon imagine him to be an agent of salvation (even if they can’t remember exactly what it is that needs saving). Perhaps the name is meant to satirize any states of expectancy—aspirational, libidinal, political, or religious—insofar they seem to be a means to a kind of spiritual completion that is impossible. Except, arguably, in the imagination, including its refinements in the products of the arts. If Samuel Beckett is too cool to provide us with ordinary entertainment and edification, does he mean to bore us, berate us, or do nothing at all? Erin & Wes pass time by discussing “Waiting for Godot,” and whether frustrating expectations is sometimes better than either violating or gratifying them. Upcoming Episodes: The Mummy Pre-order Erin’s forthcoming book “Avail” here: http://subtextpodcast.com/avail For bonus content, become a paid subscriber at Patreon or directly on the Apple Podcasts app. Patreon subscribers also get early access to ad-free regular episodes. Also from Wes: Curtain Times, a calendar of Boston theatre, classical, talks and readings. Follow: Twitter | Facebook | Website Transcript 0:11 Wes: Okay. Welcome to part two of our discussion of Waiting for Godot. Erin, you wanted to say something about the typical characterization of them as tramps. 0:24 Erin: Yeah. Do you think they're as characters gaining a little bit from the association with, you know, as I've already talked about Laurel and Hardy, but also maybe Chaplin. 0:34 Wes: Yeah, I think that's meant to be an association. Yeah. Beckett actually talked about them. Right. As tramps, even though it's not referenced in the play itself. But he was involved in the production where he. I think. I think he gave some guidance on this, on their appearance and what they were supposed to be. But. 0:53 Erin: Yeah, I see. Yeah. I mean, again, I want to just argue that the comedy read is really the best way I've found to understand this is the trajectory of the Tramp. Often is this sort of dilation of time and funny business. I mean, you have in the figure of the Tramp the idea of someone who is always going, always moving and yet going nowhere. The ending, such as it is, you know, the famous idea that Godot never comes or that nothing, nothing amounts to anything in the end, is actually predicted in the Tramp trope, in which Tramp trope. 1:35 Wes: I was going to get a tramp stamp, but I decided on getting a tramp stamp. 1:38 Erin: I decided on the Tramp trope. But at the end of these little escapades, you know, these little serial adventures in the life of the Tramp, what happens? Nothing. Right. He might have a delusion of grandeur. Something might happen to him. You know, there'll be a little bit of a plot for the 20 minute silent film or whatever that he's engaged in. And then usually at the end, disappointment, back on the road, back where he began. No salvation, no social climb, no actual progress, but just movement. So movement without progress is kind of the life of the Tramp. 2:16 Wes: So at this point, right, they've just talked about, had an absurd conversation about whether to commit suicide and who should go first, you know, depending on so that the branch doesn't break for the second one and then leave them alone. And Estragon says, don't let's do anything. It's safer. And then Vladimir says, let's wait and see what he says. As if Godot is going to tell them whether they should commit suicide, or in what order they should commit suicide. Or maybe whether that there's some reason not to commit suicide. Estragon. Says who? Godot. Estragon. Good idea. Let's wait till we know exactly how we stand, says Vladimir. Do you want to go back and forth for a second here? 3:00 Erin: Sure. On the other hand, it might be better to strike the iron before it freezes. 3:05 Wes: I'm curious to hear what he has to offer. Then we'll take it or leave it. 3:09 Erin: What exactly did we ask him for? 3:11 Wes: Were you not there? 3:12 Erin: I can't have been listening. 3:14 Wes: Oh, nothing very definite. 3:16 Erin: A kind of prayer. 3:19 Wes: Precisely. 3:20 Erin: A vague supplication. 3:23 Wes: Exactly. 3:25 Erin: This is funny. And what did he reply? That he'd see that he couldn't promise anything. 3:32 Wes: That he'd have to think it over 3:34 Erin: in the quiet of his home, consult 3:36 Wes: his family, his friends, his agents, his 3:41 Erin: correspondence, his books, his bank account, before taking a decision. It's the normal thing, is it not? I think it is. 3:52 Wes: I think so too. All right, so that's fun. 3:58 Erin: These are really, really fun to read out loud. 4:01 Wes: Yeah. So strike. Yeah. So you can see all the comedy in here. Strike the iron before freezes instead of while it's hot. 4:11 Erin: The anticipation of the end. 4:15 Wes: Yeah. What did we ask him for? Nothing very definite. A kind of prayer. Precisely. 4:22 Erin: Right. 4:22 Wes: So it's not definite, but it's precise. It's vague, but exactly. 4:28 Erin: Will he come tomorrow, Surely. 4:31 Wes: Yeah. That he couldn't promise anything. But anyway, so we. We get the idea that they don't know what exactly they're waiting on. What's. It's. It's very vague. And they. They even use the word vague. And the word prayer is used. And other times the word save is used. And savior. So there's some religious association here as well. 4:51 Erin: What's funny too, is in the middle of all this, it strikes me, on page 11, Vladimir says, your worship wishes to assert his prerogatives. And prior to this, I think on the very first page. 5:02 Wes: Yeah. Where did your worship sleep tonight? Or something like that. 5:05 Erin: Right, your highness? Yeah. And because of what happens with the stickiness of language with Vladimir, he starts calling even before they decide to play at Pozzo and Lucky on day two, or in the second act, he has already started calling estragon pig, a use of the term that Pozzo uses for lucky. So one wonders if, you know, the day before this they were. Vladimir was contaged by someone who was calling someone else your highness and your worship in a. In a sort of sarcastic way or something like that. 5:41 Wes: Interesting. Yeah. 5:42 Erin: We intuit in Act 2 that he picks up on some turns of phrase from Pozzo, but. Yeah, but it's funny that it comes up in the midst of this theological conversation which doesn't occur in Act 2. So those words, I think, aren't used at all in Act 2. But maybe from the beginning, Vladimir has come into this conversation already ruminating on this idea of the thieves being saved. And that's what suggests the sarcastic your worship phrase to his mind, rather than some other characters that we haven't seen in act minus one. 6:16 Wes: It seems to me to sort of reverse their roles a bit, because Vladimir is actually the one more in charge. And he has a name which is more. There's more half to it. Right. There's actually been princes, Russian princes named Vladimir and Estragon. Again, it's a name of an herb. Yeah. You get a sense Vladimir is more in charge. So it's a weird inversion to. Suggests that Estragon is in charge. But of course, you know, there is a sense in which the person who doesn't seem to be in charge is in charge. And in fact. Right. The diminutives that they have for each other. Gogo and Dee Dee. Right. Estragon, Gogo. And of course he wants to go all the time, but he can't, because they're waiting for Godot, which is almost like a combination of their names. Go and D. Go DD sounds like D almost sounds like this. It's like this, this, or here. Here versus Go. Go. Stasis versus motion and what Freud would call secondary process, and the kind of fixing something in one's attention and rational thought and planning, which certainly Vladimir has, versus just impulse, which is what Estragon seems to have. So to sort of say your highness or your worship is to raise the question of who's in charge. Is it executive function that's in charge, or is it impulse and instinct that's in charge? 7:42 Erin: To give maybe credence to your idea that Estragon is maybe secretly the one in control or in charge. Pozzo's name is confused with Godot. And Gogo certainly sounds more like Godot than Didi does. Though I like your idea that the name kind of combines the two in a way so that we could say that, you know, Pozzo is the more obviously dominant one of that pair. Godot, say in the pair that he's A part of. With the boy is certainly the dominant. And then Gogo, Estragon would be along that axis. Though, of course, these dynamics shift in Act 2. I mean. Yeah. From the beginning, Vladimir is saving Estragon, or trying to save Estragon from these people that apparently beat him up all night. 8:25 Wes: Right. 8:26 Erin: Which is, like, really sad, but also 8:28 Wes: really funny because he transgresses in some way. Vladimir suggests he's doing something to. 8:33 Erin: To antagonize them. 8:34 Wes: Yeah. So the idea that there's something impulsive about Estragon that gets a natural response. So what happens when Pozzo and Lucky arrive? Well, it's kind of a relief. Okay. You know, it's like, okay, something interesting is going to happen in this play. And it's kind of a traveling vaudeville act. It's more pronounced than the vaudeville act that we've already been witnessing and more extreme. And in a way, Pozzo and Lucky seem to be exaggerated versions of Vladimir and Estragon. So, Right. There's a kind of a bit of a master slave dynamic, maybe with Vladimir and Estragon, but it's very pronounced with Pozzo and Lucky. Lucky is literally his slave. And you can think of Pozzo as a harsh superego or as a. If you're thinking about it intrapsychically or on a social level as, you know, feudal lord or master. There's been lots of readings of this in terms of Hegel's master slave dialectic and all that stuff. So it's really quite. Quite a striking scene when they show up, right, with. So, you know, enter, Pozzo and Lucky. Pozzo drives Lucky by means of a rope passed around his neck so that Lucky is the first to enter, followed by the rope, which is long enough to let him reach the middle of the stage before Pozzo appears. Lucky carries a heavy bag, a folding stool, a picnic basket, and a greatcoat. Pozzo, a whip. And then, of course, the way he treats Lucky is quite, you know, quite extreme. Calling him pig and all that and having him give him the whip that he's gonna use to whip him. But from reading, I understand that the very first performance of this, people walked out. And I wonder where it is that they walked out, where it is that this became too objectional. Well, and I suppose maybe it's with Pozzo and Lucky, but you would think that would be the thing. Like, okay, actually, this is getting really interesting now, but I don't know. 10:31 Erin: Well, they've been predicted. I mean, very often, Estragon is the one who's introducing New elements to the dialogue, surprising twists in the dialogue. And one of them that he introduces, the question we're not tied, which he then raises again right before Pozzo and Lucky. Come on. Estragon also has the idea of the necessity for testing the branch to determine their weight before they kill themselves on it, because he doesn't want the branch to not be able to hold whichever of them is heavier and have the heavier person go second so that they don't successfully kill themselves. Something which it takes Vladimir a second to catch up on. Which is a surprising moment because Estragon makes sense and thinks logically about something before Vladimir can intuit it. But both of those instances are about being tied to each other or to Godot in terms of their fates and then being sort of weighed in the balance, maybe like scales connected, like the two thieves, maybe on the. On the. The crosses on either side of Christ. And then we get Lucky and Pozzo coming on to tied together by this rope. Yeah, I like this idea that they're an exaggeration of Estragon and Vladimir. And there are some of the same elements that recur in the Pozzo Lucky dynamic, though twisted. So we get the turnip that Vladimir gives Estragon and then Pozzo with the chicken bone. I don't know. I guess maybe it doesn't really work. Erin, it's a carrot. Sorry. 12:07 Wes: Right. Accidentally gives him a turnip, but he doesn't. Estragon doesn'. I bring that up because Vladimir really does care about Estragon and is feeding him. 12:17 Erin: Yes. 12:19 Wes: Whereas Pozzo's abusing Lucky and Lucky gets the bones. Right. So the. 12:25 Erin: Right. 12:25 Wes: Right. Pozzo takes out the chicken and eats it himself instead of, you know, whereas Vladimir was offering Estragon food. And then Estragon gets the bones that usually Lucky gets. Usually gets the scraps, gets the leftovers. 12:39 Erin: Right. 12:39 Wes: Pozzo is much more imperious and pompous and condescending than Vladimir, and he's a rich man and they're on his land, except the road is free to all, which is a disgrace and blah, blah, blah. So I think that Vladimir thinks he's Godot at first, Right? 12:56 Erin: Yes. Well, they're not sure, or they hear the sound first and they think that sound is potentially Godot coming. Right? 13:03 Wes: Yeah. Vladimir Godot. Estragon says yes. And then Pozzo presents himself as Pozzo and Estragon says he said Godot. So I guess Vladimir realizes quickly that he's not Godot. 13:17 Erin: That's right. And it's in the second act. That I think they say that they're saved. And when they first hear Pozzo and Lucky coming, I think actually the two of them cower at the sound. Yeah. So you're right. He actually does think he might be Godot. 13:31 Wes: So Pozzo accuses him of Pozzo, says, you took me for Godot. And Vladimir says, no. Oh, no, sir. Not for an instant, sir. So, Lyon, who is he? Oh, he's kind of an acquaintance. Estragon? Nothing of the kind. We hardly know him is Vladimir. True, we don't know him very well. But at the same time, Estragon, personally, I wouldn't even know him if I saw him. Pozzo, you took me for him. So. Yeah. What's this insistence on the idea that they took him for Godot? You know, it may have something to do with what I was talking about early in the first part, which is just this. Godot could be representative of dramatic resolution or suspense or a plot point. It could be representative of some aspect within a play. So it's almost like saying to the audience, you took me for some item of significance in the play or some plot development. Well, when this play doesn't actually have a plot, or you might say, on my reading, having to do with the foolishness of being so invested in the future, or perhaps even invested in one's ambitions, which are very future oriented. You took me, the rich man, as the thing that you wanted to be or the thing that you're waiting for, expecting. But of course, Estragon and Vladimir, too, I don't think they're not organized enough to give content to Godot in that way. If they're mistaking Pozzo for Godot, it's simply right. It's more a function of this idea that they really. Godot doesn't have any content for them, except that he might save them from something which doesn't have a lot of content either. 15:10 Erin: Right. Yeah, that's sort of suggested by the. To take something for something else. There's a sort of interchangeability or like a displacement, I suppose. But then also there's inherent in that maybe, you know, the colloquialism. What do you take me for? Yeah, I love Vladimir saying, personally, I wouldn't even know him if I saw him. 15:31 Wes: Yeah, yeah, yeah. 15:32 Erin: Pozzo seems incredulous at the thought that he could be taken for someone else because of his singularity or something. You know, he says disparagingly, of the same species as Pozzo, made in God's image. Yeah. The idea that other people would be the same Species as him seems like something distasteful. And so he repeatedly refers to Lucky as a pig and a hog, but says he cannot go for long without the society of my likes. Even when the likeness is an imperfect one. 16:02 Wes: He's gonna deign to, right, to hang out with these guys and, you know, have this feast in front of them, chicken and wine, without offering it to them. So at least they're, you know, they're lesser than him. He's a rich man who owns all the land. But they're. No, they're not. Lucky levels the road is free to all. Yeah. Which he then says is a disgrace. Right. So again, if we were to read this intrapsychically, we might think of it in terms of this relationship between some grandiose aspect of ourselves and then something that's been disavowed. Lucky is the disavowed shadow self that we want to cast off. Or maybe it's the part of us that's being beaten up and abused for being less than. But I think the dynamic of that is to put Pozzo in a position. Why isn't he in his manor, right, with the Stein. He mentions the Steinway. That's where he left his watch. Why isn't he in the manor with the piano entertaining him? Well, he's off to sell Lucky at the fair, right? But he could have someone do that for him. But anyway, he gets put into the position of being a wanderer through a desolate wasteland, which is not quite what we would expect a nobleman to be doing. You get the sense that he's right. He says it himself. What he's really looking for is company. But it's hard to have company if you are that pompous and high up and unaware of the well being of others. Right. Have company in the truest sense. 17:39 Erin: The other element or the other dynamic in his relationship with Lucky is one of the parasitism, I suppose, or as if the rope is an umbilical cord that has allowed Pozzo to leech off of Lucky. Right. Is that the implication that Lucky has previously been able to think and speak and that Pozo has learned things from him or acquired things from him until Lucky becomes hollowed out and unable to make any sort of coherent statement. 18:12 Wes: Yeah, it's quite Lucky, actually. He starts weeping because of what. What Pozzo says here, right. Which is that he's learned so much from. From Lucky. They're inquiring why he doesn't put his baggage down, right. And Pozzo ends up saying he wants to Impress him and mollify him. And then Vladimir is surprised by the idea that Pozzo would want to get rid of them. You know he's going to bring him to the fair. Then there's the whole scene where Estragon gets kicked and Pozzo gives that great speech about the tears of the world are a constant quantity. For each one who begins to weep somewhere else, another stops, right? Lucky's tears go to go to Estragon. 18:50 Erin: Underneath, Pozzo says, guess who taught me all these beautiful things? My Lucky. But for him, all my thoughts, all my feelings would have been of common things. Professional worries, beauty, grace, truth of the first water. I knew they were all beyond me. So I took a knook and Vladimir says, a knook? And I looked that up. I couldn't find anything about it, except for stuff about Waiting for Godot and where the origin of that word might be from. 19:16 Wes: Maybe it's like a niche profession. 19:19 Erin: But yeah, that was nearly 60 years ago. Yes, nearly 60. You wouldn't think it to look at me, would you? Compared to him, I look like a young man. No? So, also implying that he's physically sustained himself on the deterioration of Lucky. And then Vladimir says, after having sucked all the good out of him, you chuck him away like a. Like a banana skin. 19:40 Wes: Vladimir abuses him for the way he treats Lucky and all that stuff. And Pozzo ends up collapsing, right? Well, Vladimir even uses the word crucify. He's crucifying Lucky. But. But Pozzo's claim is that Lucky is killing him. He used to be so kind, so entertaining, so helpful and entertaining, my good angel. And now he is killing me. But anyway, I guess I wanted to kind of lead into that twilight speech that he gives. So it's another great speech. And then we'll probably have to talk about Lucky's speech as well. Let's read the whole thing. Just kidding. So everything seems black to him today. Except the firmament, says Pozzo. But I see what it is. You are not from these parts. You don't know what our twilights can do. Shall I tell you? And then he makes sure that everyone's looking at the sky, including Lucky. Will you look at the sky, pig? Yikes. What is there so extraordinary about it? Qua sky. It is pale and luminous like any sky at any at this hour of the day in these latitudes when the weather is fine. An hour ago, roughly after having poured forth even since say 10 o' clock in the morning, tirelessly torrents of red and white light, it begins to lose its effulgence to grow pale, pale, ever a little paler, a little paler, until poof, finished, it comes to rest. But behind this veil of gentleness and peace, night is charging and will burst upon us. Pop. Like that. Just when we least expect it. That is how it is on this bitch of an earth. Yeah. So what is that doing? What's the function of that speech, if there is any? You get the sense that it's another bit of parody of something that we might expect to see in a. In a play, right? Some sort of crescendo, emotional crescendo, along with a great speech. So maybe it's a parody of a great speech, but it also points to the concept of death, right? And the coming of night, which seems to be the alternative to the coming of Godot. Or somehow coupled to it, maybe. 22:04 Erin: I take it also to be this expression of balance that. That I've already talked about, the pairs expressing half of a dynamic. So in Night and Day, you have the two sides of the coin. Maybe one thing that I didn't mention, or maybe that we just alluded to, is Vladimir's obsession with his hat versus Estragon's, as we talked about with his boots. Right? And then not too long after this Night and day speech, Estragon will tell Pozzo, he, meaning Vladimir, has stinking breath and I have stinking feet. So there's a sort of heads and tails, night and day. Night and day thing is kind of like a one damn thing after the other. But it's also yin and yang balance, the cyclicality of that or whatever. 22:53 Wes: So what do we make of Lucky's monologue? So they. Yeah, they have Lucky think, right. Given the existence is uttered forth in the public works of. Is it Puncher and Wattmann of a personal God? Kwa kwa kwa kwa with the white beard. Kwa kwa kwa kawa outside time and extension, who from the heights of divine apathia Divine athambia Divine aphasia loves us dearly, with some exceptions, for reasons unknown. But time will tell and suffers like the divine Miranda, blah, blah, blah, for a long time. And apparently Beckett and the production he was involved in, he wanted this to be read very, very quick, as quickly as possible. 23:32 Erin: Well, this is the most Joycean part of the play to me. Yeah, I do. I really enjoyed, actually, the Lucky speech part of the 2001. That was the only one that I saw performed. I liked the fire and brimstone kind of element of it because I think of this, or I thought of it on the page and perhaps still do as being a parody of an academic kind of treatise. So I wasn't expecting the lucky performance in the 2001 adaptation to be so preachery from the pulpit. Kind of air to it. 24:06 Wes: Yeah. So again, another evocation of religious questions and perhaps academic thinking about the existence of God or something like that. But it's all become fragmented, much like the play as a whole. Right. Maybe it's like someone took a play and took a bunch of phrases and Scrabble tiles and shook the bag and then put them back out on the board. And this is the play. This is the play you get with 24:37 Erin: the repetition of, for instance, the names or the different turns of phrase left unfinished. It is established, you know, the KWA KWA quas and all that. It somehow performs in this really absurd way, these themes of. It's like an expression of ellipses or something. Like the ellipses are somehow being contained within the words or the expressions with which he's sort of extending the time. Again, it's like this dilation. Some of the things that I just teased out that I was writing in the margins, 25:15 Wes: I have. 25:15 Erin: Waiting, uncertainty, time filling, suffering, irrationality, inability of speech. But, yeah, I don't know. Something like what you get from a lecture if you're kind of falling asleep, or maybe what you remember from something several days later. Something that was long and boring and you only caught snatches of it because you were only half paying attention. Something like the. The result of having heard a highfalutin and incomprehensible and maybe kind of boring lecture. You know, since we were on the Pozzo portion. Pozzo pulls out his pipe and smokes one. And then. And then he decides to have another. And he says, the second is never so sweet as the first. I mean, but it's sweet just the same. It occurred to me that this was a revision of the carrot idea that Vladimir and Estragon talk about. On page 13 in my edition, Estragon is eating the carrot and says, funny, the more you eat it, the worse it gets. Vladimir says, with me, it's just the opposite. Again, it. It two different. It's there. In other words, Estragon says, Vladimir, I get used to the muck as I go along. And then Estragon says, is that the opposite? Vladimir says, question of temperament. Estragon of character. Vladimir, nothing you can do about it. Estragon, no use struggling. I don't know. I really love this. The change in the carrot versus the change in you as you eat the carrot? 26:47 Wes: Yeah. The more he eats, the worse it gets. And Vladimir gets used to it. Estragon's question is getting used to it. The opposite of things getting the more you eat it. Right. Because you might think the more you eat, the better it gets. Right. That's the joke. The opposite would be the more you eat, the better it gets. Not getting used to it. And then. So why is the response there? Question of temperament and character. 27:15 Erin: Because it's still possible to get used to something. You get used to the muck as you go along. So you're just getting used to it, getting worse. So the question isn't whether or not the carrot has changed. I suppose the carrot is going to get worse. That seems to be the assumption. But it's just a matter of whether or not you can get used to that quality of it. 27:33 Wes: Yeah. I mean, the suggestion is that depending on one's character, one might get used to things or get more sick of them with time. And then there's the, you know. Right. If it's character, it's fate. If it's character, it's essence. The essential doesn't change and there's no use in struggling to change. There's no use in trying to be different. At Estragon, there's nothing to be done, so you can't change yourself. So this is, you know, this is the opposite. This is sort of the foil to existentialism. Right. Existentialism is predicated on the idea that existence precedes essence. So existence, as in the foundation to our free will, that we can freely choose something and aren't just reducible to some essence, to some deterministic essence that forces us to be one way or another. I did it because that's my character and there's nothing I can do about it. This is kind of an explicitly anti existential statement. 28:32 Erin: Well, I just took it as our way of a roundabout way of talking about Act 2 without actually having to go there. Second is never as good as the first. 28:41 Wes: Related to the pipe again. 28:45 Erin: Yeah, he says the second is never so sweet as the first. I mean, but it's sweet just the same. So he has a slightly more tinged by privilege, a more positive view of the repeated activity. Still having some savor. 29:01 Wes: You know, you can be eating raw carrots and have them go from bad to okay or bad to worse. Right. Bad to worse. Is Estragon bad to okay? Is Vladimir? Or you could be eating really good chicken and wine and having a pipe. All these things that are much better to begin with than A raw carrot. And the pleasure degrades a little bit as you go along, but it's still much better than a raw carrot. 29:31 Erin: Right. 29:32 Wes: It helps to start our heart. Start from a good height so that when you come down, you're not hitting the ground. 29:39 Erin: That's true. That's true. But I like the idea of the. The entropy inherent in repetition, which seems to be like a. Like a meta joke about the play. 29:49 Wes: So, speaking of repetition. Yeah. Things repeat in the second act and we get Pozzo and Lucky arriving again, but this time Pozzo is blind and the rope is shorter. Yeah. What's the point of repetition here? 30:03 Erin: I love when Vladimir says reinforcements at last when they come on stage Again, very much to your point, that we're. We're sort of relieved to see them. 30:12 Wes: Exactly. Yeah. He's speaking for the audience at that point. 30:15 Erin: Yeah. Yeah. This time, again, I'm really intrigued by the. Either side of the scale. So. So there's a. 30:21 Wes: By the way, there's a lot of tedium. To my mind, before they arrive, they do a question and answer routines. 30:28 Erin: They insult each other for. 30:30 Wes: Insult each other. Yeah. They try all these different things to be interesting, but it's really just boring. They exchange insults, do their exercises. 30:39 Erin: They do the hat business because there's the third hat. 30:43 Wes: Yep. Speaking of logical routine. Yep. 30:46 Erin: And the idea of the boots, whether or not the boots have been replaced, which also kind of is a recapitulation of the worst carrot, in a way. There's sort of shades of the worst carrot in that. 30:58 Wes: Right. And then there's a suggestion that someone for whom you know, has come along, whose boots are too small for their feet, and then taken Lucky's boots, which means that, you know, Estragon's boots must be. Sorry, Estragon's boots. Which means they must be bigger than that person's boots. 31:17 Erin: And yet somehow that they might fit Estragon. Right. So. But they will have simply gotten smaller. So there's. 31:23 Wes: They must be smaller and yet they fit Estragon. Yeah. So. 31:26 Erin: Right. So again, there's a. There's an entropic quality. Yeah. 31:31 Wes: It's a failure of what kind of. Maybe in math is transitivity or something like that. If A is smaller than B and B is smaller than C, then A 31:41 Erin: should be smaller than C. Exactly. And one of the things also that I just wanted to point out about the ways in which maybe the play behaving in absurd ways even extends to the scaffolding in the text of the play, the stage directions. Reading it, I Think is a really important experience in addition to seeing it. Seeing it bring something, obviously, to the text. It's meant to be seen. But also, if you were only to see it, then you would not have the experience of discovering that the characters sometimes contradict the stage directions or don't seem to acknowledge the stage directions. So if we were just to see this play, we would. Or we wouldn't know, or maybe we would question the fact that these are, in fact, just Estragon's boots from the day before. We're told in the stage direction that they are Estragon's boots, but the characters argue over whether or not they are. 32:34 Wes: And they're said to be a different color. Yeah. 32:36 Erin: Estragon and Vladimir argue over whether or not the tree, you know, the instructions that were given them, I suppose, is that Godot was gonna meet them by the tree. Then they argue over whether or not it's actually a tree. But of course, it's called a tree in the stage directions. There's another example of this, or even just the way that the tree kind of acts in a strange way that it's supposed to be the next day, but it has all these at least a handful of leaves on it now overnight. Or that Pozzo is blind overnight and Lucky is mute overnight. That's another undermining element or an unruly element of the way that the play is working, which makes it doubly absurd or even more questionable, ultimately. Whether or not we could read this allegorically, for instance, is that even the stage direction sort of seek to undermine any kind of stability in the text. Back to Lucky and Pozzo. Now we have Pozzo being blind. And so the interesting dynamic, which is granted, made more obvious or more. More definitive in Act 1 by the fact that, of course, Lucky is loaded down with all these bags and Pozzo has a whip, is complicated. Or maybe the. The complication that was already there in this image of the two of them yoked together by the rope is just more apparent in Act 2, where Lucky is actually preceding Pozzo, right. Going before him. And so now we can say that Lucky is leading him around in Act 2 because of Pazo's blindness. So again, there was already kind of an uncertain. I mean, it's on the one hand, very clear power dynamic between them, of course, but on the other hand, something interesting is happening visually on stage, even in Act 1, where, again, this idea of balance, or either side of the scale where they're tied together, the power dynamic, obviously, then shifts really definitively in the second act, where Pozzo is being just led around by Lucky. 34:34 Wes: Basically, we get. In the end, when Pozzo arrives, he asks what time it is. And then there's some question of whether it's, I think, evening or dawn, right? Estragon and Vladimir argue. You know, Vladimir says it's evening. But, well, Vladimir actually says something very, very interesting. It's evening, sir. It's evening. Night is drawing nigh. My friend here would have me doubt it, and I must confess, he shook me for a moment. But it is not for nothing I have lived through this long day. And I can assure you it is very near the end of its repertory. How do you feel now? So, right, we're coming to the end of the play seems to be the suggestion, and he knows it. And then we get the stuff with Pozzo claiming that the blind. Oddly. So here's how he puts it. Don't question me. The blind have no notion of time. The things of time are hidden from them, too. Vladimir says, well, just fancy that. I could have sworn it was just the opposite, right? So that he should be a Tiresias if he's blind, right? He should be a character who is prophetic, who can tell us what's in the future. But Pozzo doesn't even want to be, you know, he gets very irritable later on. And Vladimir says, dumb. Since when? Right? They keep asking them these time questions. Pozzo says, have you not done tormenting me with your accursed time? It's abominable. When? When? One day. Is that not enough for you? One day he went dumb. One day I went blind. One day we'll go deaf. One day we were born, One day we shall die. The same day the second. Is that not enough for you? They give birth astride of a grave. The light gleams an instant, then it's night once more. And then on jerks the rope and says on to Lucky. It's reminiscent of the Twilight speech, right? Which also ends with night. But it's much more staccato. It's briefer. It's got the staccato quality. It's more impassioned and maybe authentic, less pompous. It doesn't come across as the same sort of parody. It's heartfelt and it's almost like a reduction, like in cooking, right? It's reduced more to its essence. But once again, night, Right? Yeah. Night person. And then distance between morning and night has been collapsed in Pazo's original speech, I think, right? There's. He sort of hesitates and fumbles around the idea that the light has been going all day long. And you get some sense of some expanse of time. And here all of time is collapsed, right? You give birth astride of a grave, as if nothing happens in between. Or there's not time enough for anything to happen between. Everything is the same moment. 37:22 Erin: That's right. And then Vladimir will take that and expand on it in what I think is maybe the most Shakespearean speech. Yeah, he does dilate that a bit. So he says. So here's. Here's the full little paragraph. Was I sleeping while the others suffered? Am I sleeping now? Tomorrow, when I wake, or think I do? What shall I say of today? That with Estragon, my friend, at this place, until the fall of night, I waited for Godot. That Pozzo passed with his carrier and that he spoke to us. Probably. But in all that, what truth will there be? He'll know nothing. He'll tell me about the blows he received and I'll give him a carrot. Astride of a grave and a difficult birth down in the hole, lingeringly the gravedigger puts on the forceps. We have time to grow old, the air is full of our cries. But habit is a great deadener. At me too, someone is looking. Of me too, someone is saying. He is sleeping, he knows nothing. Let him sleep on. I can't go on. 38:28 Wes: What have I said with Pozzo? It's as if birth and death are happening in the same moment. But as you. As you point out, Vladimir dilates this, so to speak, with the forceps. Right, so. But. But it's the gravedigger is there lingering, you know, doing things lingeringly. Right, so. So it actually takes a lot. The birth takes a long time. And the whole process of birth is the duration of our lives. And we have time to waste them, to be bored, to not do anything, to kind of live a death in life, which is much worse than the thing that Pozzo was talking about. 39:07 Erin: And habit is that death. This is the second, I think, use of the term. In the play a few pages earlier, Vladimir says. All I know is that the hours are long under these conditions and constrain us to beguile them with proceedings which. How shall I say? Which may at first sight seem reasonable until they become a habit beguiling the time tomorrow, sleep. All this stuff is, you know, very Macbeth also, of course, very Hamlet. But. 39:35 Wes: Yeah, you're right. Yeah, I noticed this too. Yeah, the tone of the speech. Yeah, it's very high. 39:40 Erin: Yeah, right. Yeah. So he becomes Vladimir, becomes Really quite profound over the course of Act 2. So maybe that's one thing that sort of pushes against the entropy reading. This idea of habit, I think, is introduced rather late. It's an interesting characterization of what's gone on. Is it habit that they've been waiting for, Godot? 40:02 Wes: Well, there's something passive about habit, right. Because we're not deliberating and we're not taking conscious action. We're just, you know, we're doing what we do out of. Out of habit. I mean, it sort of. It speaks to that whole thing with the carrot. Right. And getting used to something. Right. As a matter of habit. If you eat enough, you get used to it. And it'd be inert to whether, you know, it might be the habit of eating the carrot sort of blinds you to something that's better, something that's more tasty. And the same thing in life. You sort of get into death drive mode. And the parts of life that you know would involve more vitality, you are habituated out of. Out of seeking that, out of inhabiting that. Because you're in sort of inertia mode, I suppose. 40:52 Erin: But they don't eat the carrot out of habit, right? I mean, everything they're doing, they're doing out of a kind of desperation. And they're eating the carrot because they don't have anything better. And when they have something better, even if it's just scraps, they'll take that. Or Estragon will. 41:05 Wes: Well, they're waiting, you know, they're desperate because their attention is on. They're in expectancy. Right. To use that word that Seneca uses, a state of expectancy. And the expectancy impoverishes the present and it leaves us with carrots and turnips and raw. 41:25 Erin: Oh, I like that. 41:26 Wes: Carrots and turnips. Yeah. And as opposed to something richer, you know, all the richness is put into the future. And people really do this with their lives. Obviously, they. They're holding out right for. For the big right for the prize that will only come if they. You know, it might be the asceticism of just working hard, but it. But. But sometimes it's just neglect, self neglect. Because, you know, one is focused on one's ambitions or some other form of salvation. It doesn't have to be ambition. 41:57 Erin: Drink the wine today, people. Eat the chicken today. 42:01 Wes: Carpe diem. Yeah. You know, I gave some classical quotes from Seneca about expectancy. 42:09 Erin: Is it Horace? It's not Horace, because that's. No, I think this seems too late. To be. 42:15 Wes: No, I think you're right. But my notes seized up. Yeah, it's Horace seized up. 42:23 Erin: Good one. 42:23 Wes: All right, so. Yeah. You want to give any final words, or is there nothing left to be done? 42:29 Erin: I was going to say, shall we go? 42:34 Wes: Yeah. 42:35 Erin: No. Used to say, yes, let's go. But then we're not gonna. But then there's gonna be five minutes. Five full minutes of just dead air, and then eventually it will end. 42:44 Wes: What are we waiting for if we can't go? We must be waiting for something. 42:52 Erin: Wake me up before you go. Go. 42:55 Wes: Yeah. All right. Thank you. 42:57 Erin: Thank you.

    • Transcript
  • June 23 · 49 min

    Existence and Expectancy in “Waiting for Godot”

    Who is Godot? Whether God, objet a, or an abstraction from any object that is supposed to resolve dramatic suspense, it is clear that Vladimir and Estragon imagine him to be an agent of salvation (even if they can’t remember exactly what it is that needs saving). Perhaps the name is meant to satirize any states of expectancy—aspirational, libidinal, political, or religious—insofar they seem to be a means to a kind of spiritual completion that is impossible. Except, arguably, in the imagination, including its refinements in the products of the arts. If Samuel Beckett is too cool to provide us with ordinary entertainment and edification, does he mean to bore us, berate us, or do nothing at all? Erin & Wes pass time by discussing “Waiting for Godot,” and whether frustrating expectations is sometimes better than either violating or gratifying them. Upcoming Episodes: The Mummy Pre-order Erin’s forthcoming book “Avail” here: http://subtextpodcast.com/avail For bonus content, become a paid subscriber at Patreon or directly on the Apple Podcasts app. Patreon subscribers also get early access to ad-free regular episodes. Also from Wes: Curtain Times, a calendar of Boston theatre, classical, talks and readings. Follow: Twitter | Facebook | Website Transcript 0:11 Wes: Who is Godot? Whether God objet a or an abstraction from any object that is supposed to resolve dramatic suspense, it is clear that Vladimir and Estragon imagine him to be an agent of salvation, even if they can't remember exactly what it is that needs saving. Perhaps the name is meant to satirize any states of expectancy, aspirational, libidinal, political or religious, insofar as they seem to be a means to a kind of spiritual completion that is impossible, except arguably, in the imagination, including its refinements in the products of the arts. If Samuel Beckett is too cool to provide us with ordinary entertainment and edification, does he mean to bore us, berate us, or do nothing at all? Today we pass time by discussing waiting for Godot and whether frustrating expectations is sometimes better than either violating or gratifying them. This is Wes Alwan. And this is Erin O'Luanaigh, and you're listening to Subtext. So, Erin, I had suggested this just because I thought it might pair with Withnail and I, which we just did. I didn't think about it very carefully. It was just an association. And then I thought, well, also, it's something we should do, because my mom wrote her master's thesis on this at Trinity in Ireland, and for some reason she was fascinated with Beckett. I've always been afraid of doing it. Just vague associations of the avant garde and boredom. You didn't sound super excited to do it. What's your experience with the play? 1:51 Erin: I didn't like it when I was younger, I'll admit. I was recalling the other day that I was taking a class. It must have been on 20th century lit. And the final was a, you know, Blue Book exam. And we had covered a bunch of plays, and the question required us to choose one of three plays to analyze. We had to pick one and then write about it. And after the exam, just in talking with people, you know, when you're all kind of staggering out of a room, I discovered I was the only one who didn't choose Beckett. 2:28 Wes: So is that because it's. Yeah. Why is that? 2:33 Erin: I think I thought in my ignorance, or maybe in my perceptiveness, I thought it was both too easy and too difficult to write about, because I think that probably what everybody else did was they were smart to choose Beckett, and. And they did an allegorical reading which was maybe a little bit more straightforward. Is that the right way to go in terms of a really deep understanding of the play? Probably not. Was it the smart thing to do in a three hour Blue Book exam. Probably I wasn't perceptive enough to see the comedy in it. And I think the extent to which this is played for humor, I think really determines the extent to which I'm going to appreciate an adaptation of it. So the version available online from 2001 I find to have some moments of greatness, of course, and the performances are great, but mostly dour and really difficult to get through and really bleak. And the little glimpses that I've seen from the Patrick Stewart, Ian McKellen Broadway adaptation from 2013, and I think they also did an earlier one. That one seems to me like a version of Godot that I would really enjoy because I think ultimately it is sort of a black comedy version of Laurel and Hardy or Chaplin, and the humor makes it work. So probably when I was in college, I didn't understand how funny it was or how funny it could be. 4:00 Wes: Yeah. And so this 2001 version, this was Barry McGovern and Johnny Murphy and Alan Stanford, director Michael Lindsay-Hogg. And was it BBC? Is that. 4:12 Erin: Yeah, I think so. 4:14 Wes: Yeah. So, yeah, I really like that. It's, it's. I thought it was very good. You know, Rainn Wilson was recently in a. They did a production in la. There's no video. 4:23 Erin: Yeah, yeah, I heard that. 4:25 Wes: But they have some little teaser videos that are really interesting. 4:29 Erin: Did you take a look at any of the videos from the McKellen Stewart? 4:33 Wes: No, no, I wish I had. I didn't know about it. I didn't really didn't look at. I looked at the, you know, the one BBC one, but I didn't do a lot of research into different productions because I spent so much time with the play, which I think benefits a lot from being produced. It's not the most satisfying reading experience. I know you've taken an acting class because I know you've done some acting, right? And you can get. You do an acting class and they give you an exercise and they say, say one word over and over again, but with different emotions. You can do a lot with little. I was going to say Beckett's giving us very little, but that's not true. Famously, they say it's the play where nothing happens twice. Right. Because everything is repeated in the second half. But quite a bit does happen. It's just that a lot of it is verbal and it's wordplay and it's unclear. I don't know. How do you capture this? How do you capture this quality of the play? 5:37 Erin: It's routine based it's like vaudeville act. That's why I think comedy works for it. 5:43 Wes: It's like who's on first for the whole. 5:45 Erin: Yes. I mean, very much so. Very much so. It's Abbott and Costello, it's Laurel and Hardy. I mean, there's also quite a lot physically that is done in the play. Physical routines, the hat, the boots, falling down, trying to hold themselves up, falling down again. You know, there's a lot of business, comedy, business. Anyway, I ultimately, I think in spending a lot of time with the play, I came to a much greater appreciation of it than I had expected. And I also found it far funnier than I was expecting to find it primed, as I was sort of halfway through by looking up some of those clips from the McKellen Stewart adaptation which people said was too funny. You know, they were making it too funny and it should have been sadder or bleaker or something. That seemed to be at least one wing of the critical consensus about that adaptation. But I started to think, really, unless you want to be punished severely in your theater going experience, really, this should be, I think, done in a comedic way. And that seemed to be the heart of it. 6:48 Wes: Absolutely. There's plenty in the wordplay and stage directions to suggest that, yeah, you should play it up. Do a lot of this with humor. Yeah. And play it up. And you can do, you know, with much of the dialogue, you can make decisions that play it up even further. And I would say, yeah, I agree with you. The way to go is to play it up and try to breathe some life into what is otherwise potentially very sparse. Right. Put a few leaves on that tree, so to speak. In a way, it is a. It does enact desolation. Right. And it enacts timelessness and placelessness. Perhaps you can read it. Perhaps it's just allegory, which means the characters are, in a way just ciphers for something else, which is another form of desolation. There's not enough plot for the average person and there's not enough investment. You're not induced to enough investment in the characters to have some strong emotional reaction for them or to be induced by them. Right. So there's a lack of pathos, maybe, is the way to put it, Unless you go for the comedic element. But it's interesting. Yeah. Is it an allegory? 8:05 Erin: I hope not. I hate allegory. 8:08 Wes: Why do you hate allegory? 8:10 Erin: I don't know. A one to one relationship doesn't interest me. Or the allegorical reading has infected so much of art. There's this idea, I think, that people have increasingly, with, I don't know, maybe we're contributing to it with the podcast. I hope not. But people are out there trying to retrieve information easily. The CliffsNotes version of something. They want to know, what is this really about? And this is particularly pernicious in. In poetry, you know, what is the poem really about? As though everything is just these two levels. There's the veneer and then there's whatever is underneath it. And that's the level that you have to access. And you can ignore the veneer entirely and just sort of capture the meaning underneath. And that's the way that you have of rather, that's the way in which you can master the material. So suddenly you figured it out. You have the secret knowledge. And I think increasingly, no matter how complex or interesting or multivarious the potential interpretations of a work of art, people are looking for that sort of snappy way to get their arms around something. So people are trying to boil things down to a sort of an allegorical or something that looks like an allegorical read to me. And so that's. I think it flattens it, I think, to say that this play is allegorical on the one hand is probably true in a way. I mean, you know, it can be allegorical. But I think it's also. It's more than that. And insofar as I think what Godot maybe ultimately represents is something like the impossibility of an easy reading or the impossibility of settled meaning itself, even if that is, say, the allegorical answer, that immediately also complicates that one to one ratio. If you. The meaning is that there is no meaning, or if the meaning is that meaning is absent, then that automatically kind of complicates that one to one ratio that allegory would seem to suggest. 10:19 Wes: Well, as you know, I unapologetically read with a view to finding out what it's about. That's why, like, Subtext is the name of the book podcast. And I do it, you know, and. And so I'm. 10:32 Erin: But you don't do it in that way. 10:33 Wes: And I think there is. Right, well, I'm about to elaborate on that. So it's. So I do think there's something, you know, that. That works of art are about, even if they don't know they're about that, or if the. The creators don't know what they've written about, and it doesn't even require attribution of some unconscious intent or something, something like that. I just Think that the material itself has a certain dynamic and has a layer of manifest content, but there's something underneath and. Or there's something that's being expressed, a sense that goes beyond the mere reference. But in analog, right, that doesn't mean. So in other words, we can read. You know, we can read anything we want with a view to some sort of symbolic element or with a view to the thematic. It doesn't have to be symbolic or a view to the effective truth, the emotional truth that might underlie what's going on. But now, allegory, I guess, is a little bit more rigid, right? So you have the literal level, and there's this really systematic coordination between that literal level and some other. Right. So the literal level, characters and action and setting, and then what they're supposed to represent some conceptual level. So, for instance, you know, the allegory where warriors are fighting and the warriors represent virtues or something like that, it deadens the surface layer. It kind of saps it of content, makes it desolate, Right. Much like the setting here in this place. So perhaps he's speaking to the fact in the desolation of the setting for this play. He might already be speaking to the fact or warning you that if you read this allegorically, you're. You are sapping it of content and perhaps participating in this very thing that's going to be associated with waiting or expectation of a certain kind. So then. Yeah, then the question is, how do we read the play? I think it invites allegory, right? It certainly invites it. It strongly invites it because we get. Give me a few biblical allusions up front and. Right. It invites it because it's so sparse. It invites it because we're not learning necessarily a great deal about the inner lives of the characters and invites it because of the sparseness of the plot. I think we are tempted into simply reading it in an allegorical way. So what does Vladimir represent? What does Estragon represent? These are very suggestive names, right? Estragon is just French for. For what is it? Tarragon for French herb, Bernaise sauce and other things. Vladimir sounds Russian, and maybe there's some kind of regal aspect to it. Vladimir is more coherent and directive, maybe like an ego or a superego. Estragon is much more disorganized and can't remember. In fact, it's not even clear that he's actually waiting for Godot. In a way, maybe it's just Vladimir because estragon can't remember enough and has to be reminded constantly by Vladimir, that they can't leave because they're waiting for Godot, so he could be assimilated to the id, or at least to some aspect of the psyche which is not rational, maybe what Freud calls primary process, something more primitive and associative and dreamlike. And you can do that all day long with this play and do it in various different ways. And I think there's some worth to at least taking note of those parallels. Right. But if you get stuck in a Freudian reading or a social reading or one reading or another. Yeah. It quickly becomes a bit barren and unrewarding. On the other hand, how do you read a play in which. Right. Vladimir and Estragon, it seems like there aren't even full people. They do seem like psychological moments or moments within a psyche representing different psychological functions. But on the other hand, they're not just that. So I just want to reinforce your point that it's. And I know it's a point that's been made by critics as well, but it really does put you in an odd position as a spectator or reader. Right. Is it an allegory? Isn't it? How should I receive it? 14:58 Erin: I purposely didn't look at any secondary literature because I didn't want to be. I was familiar with it way, way back when I read this in college. And of course, I'm familiar with some of the pervading allegorical readings of the play, but I was really cautious to not be contaged by anyone in particular. You know, you said it invites allegory. I think at the same time, it disinvites it for the reasons that you've already outlined. You know, the play is not really. It's not, to me, very systematic in its symbols or its series. Right. 15:33 Wes: It invites you only to confound you because it's so disorganized. But you. 15:39 Erin: You know, the biblical allusion that you talk of is also immediately toyed with, deconstructed in a way by the characters who, as you've already said, have no. You know, Vladimir also has a very limited memory. Pozzo has a limited memory. Lucky we can intuit sort of from his speech, also has a limited memory. So the fact that they're so disengaged even from their own history, and then you have the repertory quality of the play itself in that Act 1 and Act 2 are simply recapitulations of each other, but maybe with something like entropy, a bit of entropy that has happened in the second replay or what have you. You know, this idea of a play in which nothing happens twice, or this idea of nothingness, or this idea of maybe having it both ways, allegorical and anti. Allegorical is reflected linguistically in the play quite a bit. I did a lot of tracking of words across the play. My big obsession for a while became pronouns, specifically the pronoun it and how squishy and unlocatable the referent sometimes is for for it. Which made me think a lot about nothingness and ultimately led me to a reading of the play which was almost mathematical. I started to think that the play was a lot about math and a lot about zero and nothingness. But if we want to start, for instance, with the first line of the play, Nothing to be done. The concept of nothingness, I think ties together a lot of where we're already going. I mean, in a way that's sort of comedy. Like the question of what actually goes on in the play, whether things actually happen. They do in fact happen. One of the things that we could say happens is simply these routines of speech which ultimately don't really lead anywhere. You know, these are things which in comedy would be like vamping or distraction maybe from whatever the structure of the plot is, would be a comedy routine sort of inserted into a film. Like the who's on first Routine. 17:50 Wes: Right. 17:50 Erin: If you've ever seen the film, which that is, in which I have seen several times and I can't think of the name of the film right now, but you know, obviously there's a scene with a baseball game and then they. They basically pause the action of the larger plot to do that who's on first routine. So it's as if the entire play is made up of those types of vamping comedy vamping moments where you do these verbal routines or these physical slapstick routines which would be a break from the plot in any other plot based film or play or whatever, but here make up the entirety of the plot, more or less. I started thinking a lot about nothingness and idling or vamping or of some kind of stasis or looping back on yourself. Returning the song that Vladimir sings about the dog having a kind of cyclical structure to it and the cyclical nature of the entire play and whether or not the whole play is an expression of this kind of circular rather than of nothingness as negation and cancellation. The nothingness of idling and stasis, which I take to be a sort of different kind of nothingness. 19:04 Wes: The work that nothing here is doing in the beginning of the play involves estragon trying to take off his boots and not being able to. So it's nothing to be done. He's giving up. Although I think at various points in the play. I mean, okay, so this is repeated several times in the play. Vladimir says it, Estragon says it. And in fact, Vladimir says it shortly after. It's actually, it's not much further into play that Vladimir says it. He says, sometimes I feel it coming all the same. Then I go all queer, how shall I say? Relieved. And at the same time, appalled, Appalled. Funny, Nothing to be done. And he's referring to that line that I mentioned before, which he says, prior to that, the last moment, hope deferred maketh the something sick. That's a reference to Proverbs. Hope deferred maketh the heart sick. But when the desire cometh, it is a tree of life. And so, of course, he leaves out the more hopeful second part. Although, of course, the tree of something or other is right there on the set. So what is it? You know, what is it he's referring to when he says I feel it coming? I think that's one of the questions that the play invites us to answer. What is it they're waiting for? And there's some obvious invitations, right, Godot. God. But we might think more generally that they're waiting for some sort of salvation. They even say it, something to save them. And that salvation, right, it can be God. But people seek this in a secular way as well. Sometimes it's just associated with grandiose ambitions. Hey, when I'm a great such and such, I will be saved. I was reminded of the saying by Seneca, the fool's life is empty of gratitude and full of tears. Its course lies wholly toward the future. He is always, and he says elsewhere, he's always getting ready to live. And the greatest obstacle to living is expectancy, which hangs upon tomorrow and loses today. We are arranging what lies in fortune's control and abandoning what lies in yours. Seneca, of course, was stoic. So that's a very stoic sort of idea. That kind of idea recurs through ancient classical literature. This idea that a focus on the future can kind of denature the present, that it can devitalize it. It can take you out of the present and prevent you from enjoying life, prevents you from appreciating what you have. So I think when he says, you know, sometimes I feel it coming on. I mean, what do you. What do you think of that? Sometimes I feel it coming all. All the same. What is it referring to? 21:51 Erin: Well, I wonder that myself I, you know, it could be hope, it could be sickness. I think ultimately it is plot, really. Any kind of plot. They are waiting for the plot. That's as close as I'll get to an allegorical reading of the play, I suppose. So they're stuck waiting for something to happen to move things forward. So sometimes he feels the whatever coming to relieve him from the position that he's in of kind of not having anything to do. What you read of the Seneca also, I think speaks to that in a way. Right. You're sort of in the anteroom of action. And action is ultimately what plot is made of. And their anxiety and their heartsickness over this waiting and anticipation, their depression is over the fact that they are stuck in this anteroom before the action can commence or something like that. 22:53 Wes: Yeah. I think of them as living in the setting of the play is almost representative of the state of expectancy that Seneca talks about. I think that the sexiest way to read the play is make it self referential about playwriting. And it's the least. It's the most. Every other reading can be attacked as sort of reductive, maybe, but there's something. If it's become self referential, it's less reductive. But I'm also, I think also the sort of. The psychological essence of it, it gets at something worthwhile. So they live in a place. They don't live there, but they are in a place that is. Right. It can't be located. It's sort of barren that There's a timeless quality to it. It's without memory. So the word utopia literally means no place. Right. The. The utopia that one might expect or might yearn for in a state of expectancy can't come. And so the shadow of that. Right. Is the. Is the sort of no place that you find yourself in that you might find yourself in psychologically. If you are oriented entirely towards a utopian future or towards a, you know, conception of the object of desire, which as something that might complete, you know, when nothing can really complete us. Right. Just sort of these unrealistic expectations about life, they produce a desiccated present on the reading where in a way it's self referential. The state of expectancy maybe is a little bit of teasing about the state of expectancy of the audience. Right. We are kind of teased for the possibility that we might be bored in the way that Vladimir and Estragon often seem to be bored. And they're often contemplating, well, what comes next. And is this entertaining enough and, yeah, Estragon will say, yeah, that's the idea. Let's insult each other now as if they themselves are the playwrights. But playwrights without any real memory figuring out how it is that they're going to produce some interest in the audience. And that usually is the goal. At least one of the goals of a storyteller is to introduce some element of suspense or pathos or whatever. But here we're not getting that sort of satisfaction. And so that kind of breaks down or deconstructs the typical experience of a theater audience, maybe, and speaks to, I don't know, their state of expectancy as an audience. 25:26 Erin: You're making me think about what dialogue normally, let's say, amounts to. The interiority of character. Maybe something in the past that is revealed over the course of a conversation. Maybe some conclusion. Because, you know, one of the things that I'm thinking of is that how much does really happen in a play? You know what I mean, as opposed to a film, say, how much really happens in a play at the level of action versus, say, of dialogue? I don't know. I'm going off the track of where my train of thought was originally taking me. 26:00 Wes: But, yeah, it depends. But usually it's quite confined in terms of time span and place. Not always. There are Shakespeare plays in which the. Yeah, there's a lot of different settings and scenes. And a lot he conveyed, just like a film would. There's the. The scope. That sort of background scope feels much bigger than what we actually ever see on stage. You know, we get a sense of time passing and big events going on and a world beyond. But usually we are getting restricted, quite restricted to some very local space and time. 26:39 Erin: Right? That's true. There are murders on stage. There are all kinds of things. But also, I think a lot. A lot in plays is, say, moved out of the realm of physical action and inserted into speech. It's put into speech. You know, an obvious example that springs to mind is Oedipus, where everything that he's done really kind of precedes the action of the play. And in the play, through dialogue, we're watching him come to the realization of the significance of events which predate, you know, the start of the action of the play. So, I don't know, it just occurs to me that maybe rather than doing something insanely different from what we come to expect from a play or an experience in the theater, Godot is radical for leaning into an already present phenomenon all the way. So that the action of the play really Just does become word games, circular types of constructions where we're waiting for one or the other character to get back to their original train of thought or to think of the thing that they wanted to say, or to finish the other's, or give a counterpoint to the other's idea. In other words, maybe it's just an exaggerated. You know, it's not doing something different. It's just doing something sort of metatheatrical. Maybe that's just an obvious point and I've taken the long way to get there. But in this opening line that you've already pointed to, where Estragon is saying nothing to be done, and he's talking about the difficulty of pulling off his boot, I thought about this sentence quite a bit and the implications of it. Nothing to be done. So, you know, it's a passive construction, obviously. It removes the actual subject from the sentence and takes the object and puts it into the subject position. So not we can do nothing, but nothing to be done. It got me thinking about, because of that, that passive construction, this difference between the idea of doing nothing and the idea of being nothing, the nothing that is idling and stasis and just sort of, say, vamping, for lack of a better term, since that's kind of a comedy word or a vaudeville wor. And then the nothing of cancellation or negation, the nothing of being. I think with idling and vamping, what sustains the doing nothing is a kind of circularity rather than the canceling out of the being nothing. Obviously, you can't do a play about being nothing because it would just be. The curtains would open and there would be nothing there, and then you would go home, which I think Beckett, like, almost did something like that. Didn't he just do a play where there was just a mouth talking on stage and that was it. 29:29 Wes: Ye. 29:30 Erin: So he almost got there. All of that to say that Estragon starts by saying nothing to be done. It actually has a kind of application to the boot. Even though the boot ultimately leaves him nowhere, his efforts leave him nowhere. But the action of trying to pull that off and repeatedly failing, the result is ultimately nothing. And then Vladimir's words which follow. I'm beginning to come round to that opinion, hint at the circularity inside the nothingness, the sort of tempest in a teapot quality that I think recurs over and over again in these bits throughout the play. And then the longer speech that he begins with, you know, all my life I tried to put it from me saying, vladimir, be reasonable. You haven't yet tried everything, and I resumed the struggle. So that too, I see often in Vladimir's speech a kind of circularity in it. And so in this he's describing, like, trying to get his arms around something and then ultimately failing and he's back at the beginning. 30:36 Wes: Yeah, it really reminded me of the myth of Sisyphus a bit. 30:40 Erin: Absolutely. 30:41 Wes: A lot in this. And of course, there's a lot of, you know, existentialist readings of the play. 30:45 Erin: But, yeah, I'm interested in all of these various expressions of nothingness, which ultimately are about traveling quite, quite a ways to get back to the beginning. So to get functionally nowhere versus in almost like a taxonomy of nothingness, a sort of more negative view of life. An idea of total negation that one would think would be suggested by some of this language. One of the most famous lines, certainly from the play, about giving birth astride a grave, that seems to me an expression of the idea of being nothing or of nothing being right. The play doesn't end in a death or anything like that. Instead it ends in this sort of perpetual vamping and dilation of time. Maybe another way of putting this is they're not being metabolized in the play, though the play exists in pairs of characters. The two are not canceling each other out. They're persistent. They refuse to be defeated by the play. Neither of them ends up dead. Neither of them ends up saved either. 31:58 Wes: If you're trying to write a scene in a play or movie, you're told there's gotta be some element of conflict and struggle in order to elicit the attention of the audience. And that you're right. And that attention is very picky and discriminating and not easy to hold. And then in scenes that are very dialogue based rather than action based, right, you might introduce an element of something, some sort of visual struggle, like people might be, or even just activity. A character might be doing something while talking to another character just so that there's something happening, so that there's some sort of action. And I think there's a kind of gesture to that, right? With Estragon trying to take off his boots in the beginning and not being able to. That's a perfectly fine premise for an entire scene, especially a slapstick scene, right? You could bake as much of that as you want. And then he gives up. And then Vladimir sort of picks up on that and thematizes it or dramatizes it. Makes it more about life, right? Assimilates it to the idea that he's been struggling and he's tried everything, but here they are again. And of course, what he actually says is, so there you are again, Estragon says. Am I right? He seems to speaking to your concept of nothing. He seems to have forgotten whether or not he even exists or at least whether he's standing in this particular place at this particular time. You're given a little bit of hope in the beginning that, oh yeah, maybe this will be about some well defined significant life struggle, as it would be in an ordinary play, and it'll be resolved tragically in one way, or there'll be a happy ending or something like that, but it's never going to be given any content except for the waiting for Godot. And so Godot is. The whole. Is a little. Right. The whole concept of it is a bit of a parody of suspense and dramatic resolution. Godot is just the stand in. It's a way of referring to plot structure in a way. And instead of being told the content of suspense, we are just given something, a name, something very hollow, and asked to be curious about that, whether you know, who Godot is and whether he's going to actually show up and all that. But none of that is ever going to be satisfied. 34:25 Erin: Yeah, I love that. The boot sort of being transformed in speech into life itself in Vladimir's misapprehension of Estragon. So we have something material then transposed in language into something abstract, which is then commented on for its own meaninglessness. So it's almost like the boot disappears and goes out into the ether over the course of that little exchange. And that routinely, I think, happens over the course of the play, another place maybe where we can go and sort of talk of this pronoun thing. Nothing to be done, you know, has a sort of maybe implied pronoun like nothing to be done about it, which later, Vladimir will supply. All my life I've tried to put it from me, as we've already said, but then on page two in the discussion of, you know, maybe of suicide, which you don't really understand that it's about suicide until part of the way into it, Vladimir says, when I think of it all these years, but for me, where would you be? You'd be nothing more than a little heap of bones at the present minute. No doubt about it. Estragon says, and what of it? And Vladimir, it's too much for one man. On the other hand, what's the good of losing heart? Now? That's what I say. We should have thought of it a million years ago. In the 90s. So the. It just keeps being. It's so actually difficult to track. It keeps being changed or displaced. But, you know, at first, when I think of it, the it there is the abuse, I guess, that's being visited on Estragon every night. He's getting beaten up, and then he says, no doubt about it. Which is. I guess you'd call that a situational pronoun where you're just referring to kind of a whole circumstance rather than any one. One particular thing. And then it's too much for one man. Again, situational. We should have thought of it a million years ago in the 90s. And the it. We learn later when he says, hand in hand from the top of the Eiffel Tower, that it is actually suicide. 36:29 Wes: Yeah. So what is. And they wouldn't even let us up. They tried to go up and commit suicide, but weren't let up. 36:35 Erin: Yeah. Now they wouldn't let us up. He's imagining that they wouldn't be let up. Yeah. 36:41 Wes: Yeah. I was wondering if the suggestion is that again, we're being invited to give these symbolic readings, but these guys, they're in purgatory or hell because they've committed suicide. I think that seems to be the suggestion. 36:54 Erin: Oh, I see. No, interesting. 36:57 Wes: Or they were thinking about it. They're caught in the situation where they're constantly thinking about suicide. Isn't that. I may be misreading this. Isn't that the suggestion? Hand in hand from the top of the Eiffel Tower, among the first. Among the first to jump off in the 90s. When was the Eiffel Tower built? 37:13 Erin: Yeah, I think in the late 1880s. 37:16 Wes: We get almost no proper name, references to places. We get this, and then we get Macon. 37:24 Erin: Yeah, I never thought of that. 37:26 Wes: Those sort of transcend this weird world that they're in. Right. It's almost like they pierce the veil and speak to some previous concrete, richer realities. So I want to point that out, even though I think you're right. We're meant to sort of reject, ultimately, an allegorical reading or a symbolic reading or it's supposed to fall apart at some point, but we certainly are invited to it in various ways, especially in the beginning, and then we'll get to this in a second. But the talk of Christ and all 37:56 Erin: that stuff, I'm really intrigued by that. I never saw it that way. So you're saying, in other words, you could take the purgatorial reading of this even more literally by assuming that they have already done this, but that they are in fact dead. 38:09 Wes: Or. What's the alternative reading of this? 38:13 Erin: We should have thought of it a million years. So we should have killed ourselves before it got to this point. So we should have killed ourselves long ago. And now we've been vamping ever since. So they're in the sort of afterlife of their usefulness. 38:27 Wes: No, I think you're right about this. And I was confused because. Yeah, I mean, literally. Right. We should have thought of it. We would have been among the first, I think. Must be what it meant, what it means. Now it's too late. They wouldn't even let us up. Yeah. So they had the opportunity. 38:42 Erin: Okay, Right. 38:44 Wes: Which is the way I initially read it. And then I thought, well, if they're in purgatory, maybe they actually did it. 38:48 Erin: So anyway, yeah, that's really interesting. 38:50 Wes: But I think, yeah, the reading that they had the chance to do and didn't, I mean, that is, you know, the reading that's more faithful to what. To what the text actually is saying. So. Well, thinking about suicide's a sin too. Just kidding. 39:01 Erin: Yeah. So another rich moment for pronouns is when they start to talk about the thieves. So we should get into that parable. This is getting alarming. Vladimir says. And then he says, one of the thieves was saved. It's a reasonable percentage, I suppose. 50% is the meaning of it. And it's a reasonable percentage because there are two thieves. Suppose we repented. I'll tell you the truth. These lines. Suppose we repented. Repented what? Oh, we wouldn't have to go into the details. Our being born is maybe the weakest part of the play for me. I'm not convinced by this part at all. The idea of repentance. I don't know what they would have to repent for. And they don't know either, since they can't remember anything anyway. Vladimir asks Estragon, did you ever read the Bible? Estragon says, the Bible? I must have taken a look at it. Do you remember the Gospels? Vladimir asks. Estragon replies, I remember the maps of the Holy Land. Colored. They were very pretty. The Dead Sea was pale blue. The very look of it made me thirsty. That's where we'll go, I used to say, that's where we'll go for our honeymoon. We'll swim. We'll be happy. Vladimir says, you should have been a poet. And Estragon says, I was gesturing towards his rags. Isn't that obvious? Anyway, so Vladimir says, ah, yes, the two thieves. Do you remember the story? No. Shall I tell it to you? No, it'll pass the time. Two thieves crucified at the same time as our Savior. One estragon cuts in our what? Vladimir says our Savior. Two thieves. One is supposed to have been saved and the other damned estragon. Saved from what? Vladimir? Hell, I'm going. Vladimir. And yet how is it this is not boring you, I hope? How is it that four of the evangelists, that of the four evangelists, only one speaks of a thief being saved? The four of them were there or thereabouts, and only one speaks of a thief being saved. And then a bit later, one out of four of the other three, two don't mention any thieves at all. And the third says that both of them abused him. So it seems like good odds at first. Basically, one of the thieves is saved of the two. But then it occurs to Vladimir, actually the numbers are not as promising because one of the two is saved. In one of the four of the stories and in the other three evangelists accounts, in the other three gospels, the thief being saved story is not mentioned at all. So this, I guess, erodes his coin toss faith in salvation and turns it into more like less than an eighth of. An eighth of a chance that you would be saved. Something like that. 42:04 Wes: Right. I think we're meant to wonder perhaps whether they are thieves or, you know, that's again, what they're doing in this purgatory like place. And what they're waiting for perhaps is salvation. I mean, they even say it's to be saved and it's salvation is what they're waiting for. They'll be saved if only Godot comes. But there's also an element to this which seems like a crisis of faith, Right? Based on testimonial evidence. Is the testimonial evidence reliable? Is the Bible reliable? In other words, are we actually. Is the thing that we're waiting for, does that actually exist? Meanwhile, estragon is not even attuned to that function of the Bible. For him, it was a vacation brochure and a very ironic one because I don't think the Dead Sea is supposed to think that you're going to slake your thirst. Right. So what are the associations of the Dead Sea in the Bible? Sodom and Gomorrah. How's that related to the Dead Sea? The Jordan Valley is once lush and fertile, and the Dead Sea is kind of the result of God laying waste. I think that might be true. I think so it's at the border of the. I mean, it's east of Eden Right. It's on the eastern side. And I guess the prophecy is that there are prophecies concerning the sea, that it will come alive or something. I think the association is to some sort of desolation. Right. And they're in a desolate place themselves Right. Now, maybe they are at the Dead Sea, so to speak. But for Estragon, it's the fact that the maps were colored and therefore that because the Dead Sea was in blue, he took the signifier as the signified. Right. So if it's pale blue on the map, then it must be something that's going to slake my thirst. And as usual. Right. Estragon is very attuned to this. Right. His. He's hungry or he's thirsty or this or that. He's very attuned to satisfying various bodily needs or whatever. Whereas Vladimir can get more abstract and philosophical. So here they just. As usual, they just talk past each other. I don't know why Vladimir thinks this makes him a poet. I guess that's a way of giving a very generous reading to what it is that Estragon is saying. 44:23 Erin: You don't think it's. You don't think this moment is lovely? 44:26 Wes: Yeah. 44:26 Erin: I think what Estragon says is really nice. 44:28 Wes: They do, you know, they do have a lot of affection for each other. 44:32 Erin: Yeah. Is this their honeymoon? I know it's not, but. 44:35 Wes: Yeah. Well, the word honeymoon is also an odd. Right. We'll go there for a honeymoon. 44:40 Erin: Yeah. 44:41 Wes: Lovers. 44:42 Erin: One can imagine. Yeah. That he's talking about his prior life, his prior existence. But this too makes me think of. Makes me think of Laurel and Hardy expressing a sort of male female dynamic, often in the two Men comedy routine where they're kind of in a marriage, and often one or the other of them, but primarily one will express more of the feminine characteristics of that pairing than the other, which then, of course makes me think about estrogen. But, yeah, you know, I'm sure there are lots of readings of that, but it is in Laurel and Hardy. 45:18 Wes: Yeah. With regard to estragon. So. Yeah. Meaning tarragon, which makes me think of tarragon. So it's like a, you know, very commonly used French herb or commonly used in French cooking, including in bearnaise sauce, which I immediately associated to. Just because we read it recently, Julius Caesar and Casca. Right. Brutus thinks he's dull, and then Cassius says, well, he gives sauce to his wits or something like that. By basically being like a common man and speaking the way the common people speak, almost like a Politician sauce to his wit so that it'll go down easier. And I thought, well, maybe the idea is that Estragon is supposed to balance out the wit. He's supposed to, in a way, be sauce to the wit of Vladimir. In other words, he's much more concrete and much more focused on the body and much more. That's the kind of concreteness that you need in writing or performance to keep it too interesting. If it gets too abstract, then you lose interest. But of course, he's not very saucy. He's not rich enough to actually rise to the level of the sauce. So he's just stuck being tarragon. He's not balancing out. He's not balancing out Vladimir's wit or Vladimir's sort of rational consciousness very much. He's just being stuck in. Or maybe he is, but I prefer Estragon. 46:49 Erin: I think he. I'm just. I don't know. 46:51 Wes: Yeah, well, I mean, I prefer neither of them, but. 46:54 Erin: No, I was gonna say. I'm just making that up. 46:58 Wes: I think the second part of the play is a bit boring. The first part, I think, is quite entertaining, actually. But to see it redone and with that entropy aspect that I think you mentioned. Right. To see it fall apart even more, there's something a bit painful about that and tedious. So I enjoy. You know, I especially enjoyed the first act and I enjoy these two characters and their relationship, but I can't say that they. Right. Are they fully fleshed out? Are they not? There's actually. That's a difficult question to answer. Again, so it's not just allegory. They're not just symbols. You know, it's not like Vladimir is just ego and Estragon is ID or something like that. And they don't have any. They don't have a life of their own. They do have a life of their own. They are characters. It's just that they are caught in this timeless, memoryless place. Right. There's not much content that they can use to give to their characters. So, for instance, they can't really. We get the one Eiffel Tower reference and a couple of other references, but otherwise there's no memory. There's no talk of what they did in the past. We don't know what their jobs are. If they were. Maybe they're tramps, as they're usually a bum anyway. Tramps. 48:07 Erin: Yeah. Wes, maybe we can talk just a little bit about the tramp at the beginning of part two. I do think that's an interesting element of These characters, something that helps them to maybe take on a bit more shape as characters or gives them a little bit of a history in the cultural imagination that they can use to sort of get along in our minds. That helps to advance them as characters for us a little bit. 48:33 Wes: Lucky and Pozzo. 48:34 Erin: Yes, Lucky and Pozzo. That's right. 48:36 Wes: All right, thank you. 48:37 Erin: Thank you.

    • Transcript
  • May 18 · 35 min

    The Romance of Self-Destruction in “Withnail and I” (1987) – Part 2

    Wes & Erin continue their discussion of the cult classic “Withnail and I,” and whether our capacity for sublimation suffers less from the crisis of modernity than from our attempts to transcend it. Upcoming Episodes: Waiting for Godot, The Mummy Pre-order Erin’s forthcoming book “Avail” here: http://subtextpodcast.com/avail For bonus content, become a paid subscriber at Patreon or directly on the Apple Podcasts app. Patreon subscribers also get early access to ad-free regular episodes. Also from Wes: Curtain Times, a calendar of Boston theatre, classical, talks and readings. Follow: Twitter | Facebook | Website Transcript 0:11 Wes: Welcome to part two of our discussion of Withnail and I. We just got done discussing Danny and some of his commentary and the parallel between the end of the friendship between Withnail and Marwood and the end of the 60s thought we'd move on to the character of Monty and ultimately to a little bit what I want to discuss about romanticism and the urban versus the rural divide. But I thought maybe we should just start with Monty, since he's such a great character. They go, so Monty's with Nail's uncle and they go to his place to get the key to the cottage. Their solution? They're going to solve everything by going out into the country. Little do we know, but behind the scenes, Withnail has actually kind of sold marwood to the uncle, who's promised him some action if they can get the key, which sets up Monty's coming out to the countryside to intrude on them. Yeah, every scene with Monty in it is just fabulous. And some of the dialogue, his pomposity and then, as you mentioned before, double entendre. So, for instance, do you like vegetables? I've always been fond of root crops, but I only started to grow last summer. I happen to think the cauliflower more beautiful than the rose. Withnail mentions geraniums. Monty says, little traitors. I think the carrot infinitely more fascinating than the geranium. The carrot has mystery. Flowers are essentially tarts, prostitutes for the bees. There is, you will agree, a certain je ne sais quoi, something very special about a firm young carrot do help you anyway. 1:55 Erin: Yeah, what I love about his place is you look around the room and you realize that there's cauliflower in a vase rather than flowers, and then other vegetables are decorating the room in various places. 2:07 Wes: So. 2:07 Erin: Yeah, and it's very old fashioned English looking. So it sort of combines the brocade and the tapestries and the medieval looking England with gardening and having all these vegetables around and stuff. So he's sort of a synthesis of these wonderful English cultural touchstones in this one room. I think that when he says little traitors to Withnail's idea that he grows geraniums, I think he's calling Withnail a traitor for growing flowers. 2:39 Wes: Oh, I thought he was calling the geraniums traitors. 2:42 Erin: I wasn't sure about that. Yeah, the way that he said it, I thought it could be that. That they're traitors for growing geraniums. So there's something traitorous to one's sex about being interested in women. 2:54 Wes: Oh, yeah. 2:55 Erin: You know, that was the symbolic implication I took. 2:58 Wes: No, I think that's a good surmise. 3:01 Erin: One Withnail is going to be a pimp of Marwood just as he's a pimp, you know, over his geranium patch. Or whatever. But there's a lot about root vegetable. You know, I was thinking there's a lot about peeing in the film. There's a lot about time. We've covered all the. All the other drugs and stuff like that. But then there's a good bit about carrots. There will even be a marijuana carrot of sorts. Yeah. And he's cooking onions. He ends up killing the rats with onions. So more root vegetables. 3:29 Wes: Didn't think of that. Yeah. So when Monty comes out to the country, Right. So initially they hear him outside and they're afraid because they're worried about the poacher at this point, little do they know Monty is, at least for Marwood, the one that they should actually be afraid of. And then, of course, the, you know, they find out it's Monty ultimately. And then the next morning, our sense of what the cottage is, is transformed. I think it is almost like a rebirth because when they first get to the cottage, they've come from their squalid flat in London, Camden Town. And of course, they're telling everyone they're, you know, in the. And the boondocks that they're not. It's not the boondocks. That's not the right term for it. But anyway, in the countryside that they're not actually Londoners, so that they won't be hated for being Londoners. But what I think they would get, thought they would get out of that has turned out to be very disappointing. You get some scenes where Marwood can appreciate the countryside, but that's a very small part of it. They end up at a cottage that there's no heat and there's no water and they're burning fire furniture to get by and they don't have any food. And ultimately the farmer brings them a chicken they have to kill and then cook in the oven seated in a seated position. 4:48 Erin: But like unaccommodated man. 4:50 Wes: Yeah. 4:51 Erin: Poor bare forked animal. 4:54 Wes: Yeah. 4:55 Erin: This is. Again, they're a little shrunken down person. They can deal with it seems they could strangle a chicken. 5:01 Wes: Right. Although Withnail fantasizes about having shot it and then is very fond of the gun while they're there and they go out fishing to shoot fish. It sort of becomes a right. Survival's once again at stake. You get the sense in the beginning of the film it's desperate and their very survival is at stake because of the condition of the flat and the fact that they have no money. And then they get to the countryside and it's the same thing. Although the contrast with how things go once Monty's there. Making them breakfast in the morning gives you the impression that, okay, this is self imposed. They just bring the squalor and the deprivation with them. They're at a perfectly fine cottage. It is what it is. It's in the countryside. But the sense of it having been so dire is really about them. So in the morning, there's Monty making up a really nice breakfast. And they, of course, could have just gone, I guess, grocery shopping at any time. 6:00 Erin: Well, that's. That's the one thing. Yes, definitely, and certainly they could do much better. But I also wondered how much of it had to do with the lack of money and preparation, not understanding what was in the cottage or what wasn't in the cottage. Monty's come up with a bunch of things in the car, it seems, but, yeah, they're just. They're just sort of hopeless when Monty's there. Just immediately becomes really cozy and lovely and. Yeah. And I think there's something too, about. As I mentioned, Monty's apartment in London is. Or his house in London, I guess, is a fantasy of Englishness. And then they come up to the cottage and the cottage has portraits of George V and Mary of Teck on either side of the fireplace. So there's a. It's an older England that they've gone into. They go into the Crow and Crown, I think it is. It's the pub where they meet the. The poacher and the old English army man, who himself is, you know, very much a type similar to the. The guy I love in the Brendan Fraser Mummy, the 1999 mummy, which we should cover on the podcast at some point. It's one of my favorites. You know, the old guy, the old military man who's living out this fantasy, still believing that he's engaged in a war or something like that, who lies 7:12 Wes: about having been in the military. 7:14 Erin: Withnail with nail. Yeah. 7:16 Wes: And he says, oh, yeah, I could tell. And then, yeah. Asks where he's stationed. He's like, Ireland. He's like, oh, crack at the Mick. 7:24 Erin: Crack at the Mick. Which I take to be, you know, there's, you know, Withnail's stories, which he repeatedly invents, do show tremendous aptitude as an actor. He's always playing a role or putting on a kind of a disguise. But then also, the way that Withnail sort of advances the plot or the improvised plot twists that he comes up with do seem very associative. I took that to mean that he or I took the Ireland idea as being Adopted from the Irish guy that had confronted them in the pub in Camden. So that he's getting back at the Irish somehow by imagining this military past where he used to just. Right. So there's a wish fulfillment element to all of his little improvisations, no matter how ridiculous they are. He also says he's currently a journalist and that they're doing a story on the. On the town and small town life. 8:20 Wes: Right, right. 8:20 Erin: And then later he says that they're going to set a movie there, which is, you know, kind of more on the nose wish fulfillment. 8:26 Wes: But we are multi millionaires. 8:29 Erin: We're multimillionaires. Right. Which maybe Withnail is. He just can't access any of the money because his father's alive, withholding it from him. 8:38 Wes: Yeah. We get the sense that he's going to end up all right financially if he's still alive. And in a way, like his uncle. Right. His uncle had aspirations as well when younger and now he's fine, he's gotten his money from somewhere, but. 8:51 Erin: Yeah, that's right, that's right. Yeah. So maybe Monty is more psychologically, perhaps, just as threatening to Withnail as to Marwood. Not quite, but almost. Oh, yeah. So in the crow and crown, there are pictures of Elizabeth and Philip on the walls and there's an image of her coronation garb. So that would be the 50s. It is like they've stepped back in time. So there's something. If they're flat is the 60s and they have to escape the flat in order to find someplace that hasn't been destroyed by them in some way. 9:24 Wes: And I think that's pre modern. Right. So this is part of the romanticism. It's modernity and the urban are alienated and I'm going to find less alienated situation in the countryside with the simple folk and in being connected to nature and in a way going back in time. Which sounds like the point you're trying to make. Yeah. 9:50 Erin: It's as if the fantasy of the 60s, we're sort of seeing the reality of it. I mean, it could be that this is representative of 69 and therefore the failure of the promise of the 60s. Or this flat represents the entire decade and the fact that it's actually been downhill from the social fabric. And yes, the sort of fanciful or the loose grip on reality that the military guy represents, but still functioning and connected to real life in terms of just active, practical things like farming. That the 60s are being represented maybe as some kind of aberration in all of this. 10:29 Wes: Well, I think that the countryside doesn't turn out to be such a great thing after all. And partly, as I mentioned, I think they bring their problems with them, of course, but also we get the sense that the natural, which is supposed to be better, turns out to have its own sinister undercurrents. So, right, the bull, there's the randy bull. So it's not all great being out there in nature. There's a sexual power to nature which can be persecutory. The natural is about what grows and ultimately about the sexual. Monty is interested in carrots not just because they represent penises and not just because he's obese and likes to eat, but. Right. He's interested in the romantic connection to nature, which is also a kind of connection to sex, I think. So they're going to be just as fearful of, say, the poacher, although he turns out to be more benevolent and initially afraid that the poacher is trying to break into the house and all that stuff. But what I'm trying to say is that. And in the figure of Monty himself, I think you get romanticism as representative as having the sinister exploitative undercurrent. So just to give an example of some of Monty's great speeches, where right in that breakfast in the morning, it seems like everything is now coming up roses. Everything is transformed. It feels like the vacation that they wanted might be coming together because they have a nice breakfast. But then we start to get Monty's stuff. He says the old order changeth, yielding place to new. And God fulfills himself in many ways. And soon, I suppose I shall be swept away by some vulgar little tumor. Some vulgar little tumor. I love that. Oh, my boys, my boys. We're at the end of an age. We live in a land of weather forecasts and breakfasts that set in, shat on by Tories, shoveled up by labor. And here we are, we three, perhaps the last island of beauty in the world. Sounds a little bit Matthew Arnold esque. 12:34 Erin: Let us be true to one another. 12:36 Wes: Right, Right. Yeah, exactly. And he's going to hit on Marwood. What else from the countryside? When they're walking in the countryside and he's talking about they do their thing where they want the finest wines known to humanity of a grapevine. So later at dinner, surrounded by trees in nature, one feels a glorious stirring of the senses, a rejection of the poisonous inhibition and a fecund motion of the soul. All the glorious trials of youth, dear boy. Because Marwood makes a comment about the fact that the squalidness of the cottage interferes with the pleasure. He's like all the glorious trials of youth, dear boy. When I was a lad, I'd rocket off on my tandem with Wrigglesworth and we'd just ride and ride and at night we'd find some barn and fall asleep with the perfumes of nature sighing on our skin. Yeah, just great, great stuff. But in the end, right, all of that, what does Monty represent? He's given up on ambition, he tells us, but he looks at it with a certain kind of nostalgia and resignation. He's nostalgic also about the loves of his youth and he's representative of what might happen to Withnail after giving up. But also I think he's representative of the sinister undercurrent of romanticism and the countryside, which is that it's not all just carrots and roses, carrots and geraniums. 14:08 Erin: It's also stick. 14:09 Wes: There's, you know, the natural world is dangerous, it's violent, it's driven by sexual instinct. All of that stuff comes out in Monty. 14:18 Erin: He's a bit sad, you know, the way that he leaves and all of that. I mean, he's been humiliated kind of because of Withnail. But, you know, when I say, let us be true to one another, he does have a kind of. His singular moral code seems to be faithfulness and so lets Marwood off the hook because he doesn't want Marwood to be unfaithful, untrue. 14:38 Wes: I mean, he does try to rape him, essentially, 14:44 Erin: but he has stopped. 14:45 Wes: I mean, he does have some burglary, 14:48 Erin: he does have some, some more than natural, you know, he has some guardrails. Yeah, I thought, I thought a little bit about, about the fact that they're in the Lake District and what role Capital R Romanticism is playing here. Because one would think that this is a place which historically, for the last couple hundred years anyway, hasn't been totally devoid of artistic types. You know, I love the moment when Withnail yells up at the sky in that kind of Caspar David Friedrich beautiful vista, where he says, I'm gonna be a star. So I don't know what to make of all of that or that, that particular moment where rather than appreciation of the grandeur of nature, he feels defiant and he's going to be part of the cosmos in a purely self serving way, which then the idea of a star comes back in the Hamlet soliloquy at the end of the film where it turns sour for him. But yeah, he has a delusion of grandeur in this moment. That he's going to get the better of all of these men who have been oppressing him, you know, as if, like, you could fight a bully with this idea that you're gonna be a famous actor. But, yeah, I don't know. I was trying to reconcile all of that, what Wordsworth and Coleridge have to do, maybe with Marwood and Withnail, if the two of them are like a degraded version of Wordsworth and Coleridge, who themselves were friends living in the Lake District, who ended up having, you know, sort of difficult at times, artistic relationship. The King Henry in Penrith is another great pub name that they go to. Another historical English emblem of masculinity. If it's Henry VIII or some other Henrys, but especially Henry vii, they've gone into town to buy Wellington's. But then, of course, they take the money and immediately squander it on booze, which seems, you know, really. They really seem beyond help to me in that moment because I realize they want to get away from Monty and just be without him for a while. But he has all that great wine back at the cottage, so why they would need to immediately squander this money on more booze is. It's a frustrating moment for me. So anyway, they go to this pub, the King Henry. They get kicked out. They go into the Penrith Tea Rooms. And then it's just old people. It's just all these old people that are having tea and want them out and they're trying to stay, saying that they're multi millionaires, that they're working on a film up here. The owner wants to call the police on them and says, we'll keep them here until they arrive. The police arrive. Marwood and Withnail just then just walk out. They just get away because they can't possibly be held back by these old guys. So Monty shows up in the. 17:38 Wes: In the car. 17:39 Erin: Yeah, in the Rolls, which, you know, maybe they are multi millionaires. Maybe you should have given them some cakes. 17:47 Wes: Withnail says, we'll be back. 17:49 Erin: Yeah. Have you been to the Lake District? 17:52 Wes: No. 17:53 Erin: I've been to some towns like this in England and in Scotland, and if you go into some of these places, there is. It is just like an older clientele. 18:01 Wes: Dodgy older. 18:03 Erin: They're great for that reason, but I never came roaring drunk into one, so I never had a bad time. 18:10 Wes: Have you ever gone roaring drunk into a stodgy establishment where you shouldn't be roaring drunk? 18:17 Erin: No. 18:18 Wes: Yeah. I can't remember if I. You know, I probably did, but I can't remember. 18:23 Erin: That's a great thing about these things. They take care of themselves. The embarrassment just goes away. 18:29 Wes: I know my friend Lebec and I used to quote that bring us the finest wines known to humanity. Frequently. 18:38 Erin: Yeah. And then this interesting thing with Monty happens where he admonishes Marwood, which I think must be for squandering the money, you know, it must have been. 18:49 Wes: Yeah. Monty's very upset with them. 18:51 Erin: Must be because they're so drunk. 18:52 Wes: Wellingtons and. Yeah, being drunk. 18:54 Erin: Yeah, yeah. Because they were going to tell him the story that. Oh, don't worry, we'll just tell him there was a farmer's conference and there was a run on these Wellingtons or something, so. So we couldn't buy them, so we had to squander the money. But I think when he picks them up, they must be so drunk and so out of it that he could tell what's really gone on. And so, yeah, so the suggestion is that Marwood is leading Withnail astray, which made me wonder if Withnail was leading Marwood astray throughout the film. He's certainly getting him into bad situations because of his big mouth. 19:23 Wes: I see Withnail as the bad, bad influence. 19:26 Erin: He's causing problems for Marwood. But is he actually. He's not successfully leading Marwood astray? I wouldn't say. 19:34 Wes: Well, Marwood says, what about the Wellingtons? And he says, bollocks to the Wellingtons. Right. So, yeah, there are many instances where Marwood is sort of. There's a bit of a survival instinct and you know, from the beginning of the movie to the end. And it's reflected in the fact that he actually gets an acting part. He's the one who comes to realization they can't keep going on this way. And he's going to go out and get tea. And there's a funny. When they get to the cottage, there's a funny point where he's like, okay, we're going to separate into fact finding groups. Groups of one. You'll deal with the water and I'll deal with the fire. Something like that at least has some interest in practical problems and in solving them. But yeah, he frequently just. It seemed to me he'll just do. He's very fearful. And that terror, as I mentioned, comes across from the very beginning of the movie. And you see it. It's a great comic effect in both the them. But like with the guy, the Irishman who calls them ponces, just the level of fear that Marwood gives off in the bathroom looking at the graffiti, worried about being raped ultimately. But, yeah, it seems to me he operates from the position of fear and is being carried along by Withnail's libertine, debauched attitude towards life, which is something Withnail can probably afford, as you mentioned, in the long run, more than he can from a financial perspective. He's got to do something, right? Withnail, in a way, can go on to be his uncle. Right? 21:13 Erin: Yeah. But I think there's something about Marwood which is really, despite Withnail getting him into scrapes and things, which is constitutionally impervious to Withnail. I mean, remarkably so. And maybe that is ultimately down to the class difference, too, that Marwood has to be more practical, has to be more scientific word he uses, or is more keyed into reality. The thing I really don't get about Marwood is why he smiles so much at Monty, which seems so unnecessary and needlessly encouraging from the beginning, when Monty is reaching around him to get into the bags. Why he doesn't just step away out of Monty's way instead of physically allowing himself to be put in this really compromising position is very. 21:59 Wes: Yeah, Withnail calls him out on this, right? 22:01 Erin: Oh, yes, yes. Yeah. 22:02 Wes: Marwood says, I got a cramp in the mouth from grinning. Stop smiling at him. I can't help it. I'm so uptight with him, I can't stop myself. But he does a lot of that. When the Irish guy comes up to them, I think they both give off. They do that smile of terror, like this terrified smile thing where they're just deer caught in the headlights and they don't know how to do anything but smile. 22:25 Erin: Well, Withnail's way of dealing with that kind of terror seems to be to out submissive himself out, you know, like he's going to go all the way in the submission direction and sort of fawn, like when he says he has a heart condition, you know, he's going to make himself into the wimpiest wimp in the world, you know, to try to get the guy to leave him alone. And then I think Marwood learns from that. He learned something about that tactic, maybe from Withnail, but one would think that he would be a better actor and he would understand. Obviously, Withnail has created a situation where Monty believes something about Marwood, which isn't true. And in the end, Monty's humiliation is all on Withnail's head. And yet, at the same time, Marwood has also been needlessly encouraging him with this, like, weird smiling throughout the entire every single one of his interactions with Monty. And he doesn't just step out of the way. He doesn't just act as though it would just be a normal thing to step out of the way. And so it's a little frustrating to see his resignation or passivity or when he's complaining about being too high and he gets kind of whiny. It's a moment where, again, I kind of break sympathy with Marwood. I think that for somebody who has gotten an acting part as a. No, I guess not as a soldier. That was the part that he originally went for, was the soldier, but instead he's gonna be the lead, which maybe is, you know, head soldier. But anyway, somebody who was able to successfully get this part, one would think that he would have a little more gumption, is what I'm trying to say. And yet ultimately his passivity doesn't stand in the way of him getting the part. 23:56 Wes: Well, it sounds like. I mean, he wasn't necessarily passive in that aspect of his life. From my point of view, I don't find either of them sympathetic except in a comedic sense throughout the movie. I'm not. They're both so absurdly terrified of everything and everything's an emergency, you know, running out of wine. You know, as Withnail says, we've got some very distressing news. We're out of wine. As he's pouring himself the last cup of wine. 24:26 Erin: Well, but Marwood is the one we're supposed to identify with to a certain extent. Right. We get his interiority. We. 24:31 Wes: Yeah, a bit more. But I think your point is well taken. It's kind of hard to. He's got some of the seeds of more of a more realistic orientation towards the world and towards a bit of a survival instinct and something that's working against self destructiveness. Right. Withnails is a force of pure destructiveness and self destructiveness. And Marwood seems to have been very induced by that and is almost as bad in many ways. Not as angry, not as envious and more passive than. Than Withnail, but in a similar psychologically abject state. Right. We don't see Marwood transformed as a character. We don't get to really see the arc. It all happens behind the scenes. He's planted the seeds with an audition, and in the end he gets the part and cuts his hair and leaves. And so that's the moment where he actually does something that's not completely passive. He's going to leave with nail and he's not going to even let him walk him all the way to the station. That's the first time I think he really genuinely asserts himself in the film. 25:41 Erin: I think there is a slight moment of transformation when Monty leaves and leaves that note for them and Marwood reads it and feels quite sorry for him. 25:50 Wes: Oh, yeah, yeah. 25:51 Erin: He tells Withnail, you'll suffer for this. What you have done will have to be paid for. And then it is immediately paid for by the knock on the door, because it's the telegram telling him, Right. That he's gotten the part. 26:04 Wes: Good point. Yeah. When he tells off. Yeah, that's the big. 26:07 Erin: Yeah, yeah. 26:08 Wes: It's a big deal. When he really, really tells off Withnail. Yeah, that is a big change. 26:13 Erin: Yeah, you're right. Then he cuts his hair and refuses the drink, says that he doesn't have time. Right. This is another return to the time motif because Withnail has been driving furiously to get to London. He keeps saying that he's making time over and over again. Again, this idea that if he speeds in the car, you know, this connection to speeding. But of course, as always happens, you have to pay for it. Just like the description you read in part one of Marwood talking about speed, that eventually it catches up with you and seeps through your pores or something like that. In this, in the same way, Withnail is stopped by the police. And then ultimately, of course, getting arrested takes a lot more time, so you might as well have gone the speed limit or something. 26:57 Wes: Richard E. Grant had never. I don't know if he had never had a drink, but he had never been drunk and was a teetotaler. 27:03 Erin: Oh, no way. That's so funny. 27:06 Wes: Yeah, so Bruce Robinson, the director, writer and director of the movie, had him, insisted that he experienced being drunk. And so they got him very drunk until he vomited. You can see there's a little 20 minute documentary online if people want to look at it and see the actors talking about all of this. Yeah. So Robinson, in that documentary, talks about what a great job he thought that Grant did, pretending to be drunk and then pretending to be drunk, trying to pretend to not be drunk. Like when they get stopped by the cops. And he gives that look to the. Just the look on his face that he gives to the cops. And when he says, I've only had a few ales, they open the door and he practically falls out of the car because he's leaning so heavily in the door. So sorry to interrupt you, but I wanted to put in that little tidbit about. And Richard E. Grant is so great in this. 27:55 Erin: Yeah, he Is. Yeah, yeah, he says, you know, Marwood says, I'll be late. You know, I have to go to the station. I'll be late. And Withnail says, there's always time for a drink. This is the final part of the film, and Marwood insists that he doesn't have time. So he's gotten out of the tractor beam of. Withnail squandering time or, you know, wasting time. He's been able to not. Not waste time anymore and get out of this cycle or whatever. And then with Nell, ends with a Hamlet soliloquy which begins, I have of late, but wherefore I know not lost all my mirth. So there's this idea of lateness and having run out of time inherent in the beginning of that speech. And then he talks about the roof fretted with golden fire and how that's all nothing, so that he seems to have lost his. This is almost like his parting speech where he, like Monty, knows that he will not play the Dane. And being a star, being the golden fire and the hanging firmament is not going to be possible for him or no longer meaningful to him. 28:54 Wes: It seems man delights not me. No, nor women neither. Nor women neither. Speaking to your point about the lack of women in the film and any romantic interests for that matter, I don't 29:06 Erin: mean to make too fine a point of that, but I think there's something really sinister about that. The lack of interest in women or discussion of women at all. 29:13 Wes: Well, it goes along with drinking lighter fluid. There's a whole collection of related sinister things. 29:20 Erin: Right. What goes along, too with, I think, creative stagnancy. I wanted to talk because him saying this speech, I guess, to the wolves reminds me of the various. Just of the names in the film. So we never get Marwood. Right. It's just on. I looked it up. How come the character's name is Marwood in this script that you sent me and it appears on a telegram. That's the only way that we know that his name is Marwood. 29:47 Wes: So the original screenplay has Marwood as the name, but I don't know if they put that in after the fact. But as you can buy it, like, if you buy the original screenplay, it'll say Marwood. It was on movies and materials related to the film during promotion. I don't know. But, yeah, it's purposefully. It doesn't come up in the movie. Is it really on the telegram? 30:08 Erin: I don't know. It just. That's what AI thinks. So take it, you know, for what it's worth. 30:14 Wes: Yeah, I think that might be a question. But anyway. Yeah. Purposefully. Right. Yeah. We don't. He's just I. Not Marwood. 30:21 Erin: Right. Well, you know, it's interesting because it is a. Like Withnail. You know, it's kind of a compound name. And so it got me thinking about names because the M is, you know, Withnail is, in a way, that upside down version of Marwood, just with the m and the W, I mean to say. And they're both. They're both compound words. 30:40 Wes: And then nail on wood and. 30:42 Erin: Yeah, right, right. Yes, that. And then also the farmer. Remember when they're trying to say, oh, don't you know, Montague Withnail, who lives in this cottage? And he's. He says, no, that guy. I think his name is French. And he calls him Adrian de la Touche, which is really, really good. But anyway, I looked up all of this because I was just interested in. So Montague means pointed mountain. And the transliteration, even in the closed caption on the Criterion Channel's version of Withnail and I, which is how I watched the movie, the transliteration of 31:21 Wes: Sisters with your captions. 31:23 Erin: No, no, I turned. No, I don't watch anything with closed caption. I turned it on to make sure that I got this right. And so he says, I. I seen a fat man, London type, queer sort. I think his name's French, or summit. And it transliterates his accent as S U M M I T. So his name is Montague. Right. Which means pointed mountain. And then the transliteration is Summit, which is really apt and then I looked up De la Touche. Touch. What would. What's that about? So it means of the touch and touch, or Touche means small patch of trees of the small wood or thicket. So Marwood and Adrian de la Touche. And, you know, there's some clever things going on with Marwood's relationship with Withnail and with Monty, even this imaginative name that the farmer has given Monty. It seems suggestive of what's going to happen, but only if you know what Marwood's name is. So it's kind of like a little in joke, maybe in the movie. Oh, and the other. Sorry. The reason why I brought this up is because Withnail is also experimenting with different stage names. 32:33 Wes: Oh, yeah. 32:34 Erin: He says at one point, he suggests that Desmond Wolf. And I thought that was indicative. Again, because there's so much symbolic masculinity going on in the various root vegetables and other things that Woolf was a desire to maybe put on A more. More masculine identity, more aggressive, perhaps. Marwood tells him it's too like Donald Wolfit, who was a famous English stage actor. And then later he suggests another name. So he seems to have borrowed Marwood's Donald and suggests Donald Twain. But then I just looked up, I was like, what's the origin of the name Donald? And it turns out that means world ruler, which, there's a lot to be said about that, that I prefer not to go go there. Who knew that Donald Duck, for instance, had to take one, had such a. An imposing meaning to his name. But, yeah, in the end, he's Desmond Wolf would be. Desmond Wolf is giving his soliloquy to the. The caged wolves in the zoo. 33:37 Wes: So in spite of all his rage, he's still just a Desmond Wolf in a cage. To almost quote one of my favorite songs. Are you Smashing Pumpkins fan? 33:49 Erin: I. I appreciate Smashing Pumpkins. I wouldn't call myself a fan. It's not really my cup of tea, but I've had a lot of people try to get me into it, so I've listened to a lot of Smashing Pumpkins, but. 33:59 Wes: Yeah, yeah. Had to be able to embrace your melancholy side. 34:03 Erin: No, I do not by smashing any type of gourd, though, in my own ways. 34:11 Wes: What's the difference between a gourd and a root vegetable? 34:14 Erin: They don't grow underground. They grow on top of the ground. 34:18 Wes: Okay. All right. Well, on that note, that's a suitable place to end the well, to quote Withnail. We can't go on like this. We'll have to stop. So. 34:31 Erin: All right, thank you. Thank you.

    • Transcript
  • May 10 · 44 min

    The Romance of Self-Destruction in “Withnail and I” (1987)

    It’s 1969, and as drug guru Danny tells us, “the greatest decade in the history of mankind is over.” There will, he says, be many refugees, and the film’s implication is that Withnail—who combines self-importance and lofty ambition with substance abuse and urban squalor—will not be one of them. Marwood, by contrast, has seen the writing on the wall, in the form of the salacious tabloid stories that, while they threaten to outcompete the world’s attention for the arts, ultimately can’t be used to excuse the pair’s failure to find work as actors. Countering this attentional collapse perhaps requires getting serious: leaving bohemian pretensions behind—and along with them, as Marwood finds out in their jaunt to the countryside—a backward-looking romanticism that can be used as a cover not just for artistic paralysis but upper class predations, both economic and sexual. Wes & Erin discuss the cult classic “Withnail and I,” and whether our capacity for sublimation suffers less from the crisis of modernity than from our attempts to transcend it. Upcoming Episodes: Waiting for Godot, The Mummy Pre-order Erin’s forthcoming book “Avail” here: http://subtextpodcast.com/avail For bonus content, become a paid subscriber at Patreon or directly on the Apple Podcasts app. Patreon subscribers also get early access to ad-free regular episodes. Also from Wes: Curtain Times, a calendar of Boston theatre, classical, talks and readings. Follow: Twitter | Facebook | Website Transcript 0:11 Wes: It's 1969, and as drug guru Danny tells us, the greatest decade in the history of mankind is over. There will, he says, be many refugees. And the film's implication is that Withnail, who combines self importance and lofty ambition with substance abuse and urban squalor, will not be one of them. Marwood, by contrast, has seen the writing on the wall in the form of the salacious tabloid stories that while they threaten to out compete the world's attention for the arts, ultimately can't be used to excuse the pair's failure to find work as actors. Countering this attentional collapse perhaps requires getting serious, leaving bohemian pretensions behind. And along with them, as Marwood finds out on their jaunt to the countryside, a backward looking romanticism that can be used as a cover not just for artistic paralysis, but upper class predations, both economic and sexual. Today we discuss the cult classic Withnail and I, and whether our capacity for sublimation suffers less from the crisis of modernity than from our attempts to transcend it. This is Wes Alwan. And this is Erin Olonick, and you're listening to Subtext. Okay, Erin, I didn't ask you before I suggested this movie whether you had seen it or not, and I was curious about whether you'd seen it and whether you liked it, but I thought I'd wait until the podcast to learn that. So, yeah. So what's the answer to that? 1:46 Erin: I was trying to figure out if I had seen it before and my memory. I don't think I'm making this up. I think I tried to watch it and got repulsed and stopped watching it because of the whole matter in the sink thing. But I really liked it and I thought it was hilarious. As long as you don't eat anything while you're watching it, I think it's okay. But the curve at the beginning was just getting over the few gross things going on, which all kind of happen at the beginning of the film. But did you see this, like, around the time that it came out, or what's your experience with it? 2:19 Wes: I saw this in the 90s. My friend John Lebec showed it to me. I think we should dedicate this episode to John Lebeck, who liked the character that Withnail is based on, passed away young, and I think in some ways there are situations. I lived with Lebeck and he was my best friend for a long time. There were times in my life where I think we didn't quite reach the level of Withnail and Marwood in terms of squalor and dissolution. But I think we were trying. We were trying to get there. And I think there's a kind of romance in that or there's a romanticization of that, and maybe that has something to do with its association with being a down and out artist. It's much more romantic if you can make the artist part of that work. But otherwise it just becomes, well, what is it they're feeling in the beginning of the movie? You know, terror, I think at least Mara would nail is more angry, I think. But anyway, this kind of story, yeah, it does have an appeal to me. I'm a big fan of Orwell's down and out in Paris and London, for instance. I don't know if you've read that there's another book called Keep the Aspidistras Flying by Orwell, which is the same sort of quality. The down and out story, it's not quite like this, but Bukowski, I think we talked about this before and you're not a fan, but his stories can be very much like this. They're autobiographical and it's about him being a boozer and trying to be a writer. 3:56 Erin: But. 3:56 Wes: Yeah, so I think part of the thing I was trying to think about rewatching this was. And it has been a long time, I think I saw it in the 90s and I saw it again at some point. I think this is the third time, but it's probably more than a decade since I've seen it. But I was trying to think, what is it that's so appealing about a story like this, if it is appealing to people? And then what is it that can appeal to people about putting themselves in this state, in this position? And then the larger question of how this is related to 60s counterculture, because, of course, it's set in 1969 and they've come to an end of an era. And the final stages of this relationship, I think, in a way are meant to represent the end of the 60s and everything, the good and bad of it. 4:44 Erin: Well, what I find appealing about it is just the dialogue. There are just so many funny lines. The hysterical moment where the police officer screams, get in the van. 4:54 Wes: Yeah. That is. 4:59 Erin: I had to pause it because I was laughing so hard. 5:02 Wes: Just completely loses it. 5:04 Erin: Yeah, yeah. 5:05 Wes: In the shrillest. Yeah, the shrillest possible voice. Completely loses control of himself. 5:13 Erin: Good cop, crazy cop or bad cop, crazy cop. I don't know what. What they're doing there, but for me, the film seemed to be less about this idea of what it means to be an artist per se, and instead this hopelessness about becoming a man, that there was no route to maturity, that the future had been foreclosed for Marwood and Withnail in some way. And I think their particular artistic endeavor. So acting is about that same process. It's also about adopting another identity. Of course, they're male actors, so it's a male identity putting on another man or another life or another role, and therefore, perhaps training oneself in what it means to be that other man or in what it means to be a man in general. And then that's played upon, it seems, with these gay jokes that pervade the film with the idea of being maybe subject to other men or under the influence of other men, or even this actorly idea of putting on another man becomes this kind of joke in which they're putting on Monty. Monty himself is a former actor, I suppose. I don't know. Maybe. As I say that, I'm thinking, well, that really is about the artist's life. What probably just characterizes it more than anything is that one is subject to outside approval regard. Very little is under one's control when one is an artist. So. But I was more interested in this idea of manhood, masculinity and feeling like everybody wants to, yeah, screw you over and what that might mean. And kind of turning that into a joke about all the meanings of that phrase, which I'm putting politely, more politely than the film does. 6:58 Wes: Yeah. I think there's something there about the way in which a certain kind of aesthetic relationship to the aesthetic and to artistic ambitions leaves one vulnerable. Right. They get called a ponce. That's a big deal. By the Irishman in the bar. What's the name of the pub again? 7:17 Erin: There are so many great pub names. There's the King Henry, the one with the two Cs. 7:23 Wes: It's the mother black cap. They're called ponces at that point. Jake the poacher says to Marwood that he's a prancing tit and that he wants working on. Although the poacher turns out to be a bit more benevolent than they thought and ends up bringing them a rabbit in the end. So there's a certain amount of paranoia. I mean, there's a lot of paranoia in this, but there's the realistic, what turns out to be persecution by Monty, or at least towards Marwood. Monty turns out, really is after him sexually, even if it's going to mean burglary, as he puts it, which is great. But I Think there's two components there. One is being a bit more upper class. And so being a ponce. That sort of slur is not just about sexuality, although it is. It's about being a limousine liberal. That's actually a very poor way to put it. Or maybe it's more after the times, actually, at least the times in which the movie was made, that sort of accusation. But it's about being effete and not manly. So I think that's the relationship. That's the sort of position that being actors puts them in. It's not a manly thing to do. It's more feminine. I think that's the idea. Part of the movie is about the dangers of the romanticization of that sort of aspiration. You know, when we see Monty in the countryside, he has all these romance, right. The countryside itself, when they take that trip, there's supposed to be something romantic about it, right. In the larger sense, it's getting into the countryside and into a rural scene. Wordsworth and Keats and all that. And Monty himself has all this flowery talk, but it's a cover up for lust. It's a cover up for sexual persecution. And that's what romanticization of this sort potentially opens you. Opens you up to. So I think you're right. Yeah, it's about. There's a lot about masculinity and homosexuality. And I'm relating it here to the larger idea of being a vulnerability created by a more aesthetic attitude rather than practical attitude towards the world. 9:44 Erin: Acting not being a manly thing is doubly implicated here, both because as an artist you're not working with your hands, but also the particular trappings of being an actor. Doing things like putting on makeup, which Monty does at one point. The idea of playing dress up and then this idea of adopting another man's identity somehow almost as if it's like a. I don't know. I was. I was trying to think through that a little bit, this marriage that happens as an actor when you're assuming someone else's identity. So you stay yourself or you're using your own body as the kind of the vessel for maybe another man's identity. And so there's something perhaps inherently homosexual about that. But I think in every single episode in this sort of episodic film, there is some anxiety about male rape or about being bested by a man or in one instance, a bull. In every single part of the film, it happens over and over again. And when they're not explicitly talking about that, it's displaced into carrots and meat and other symbolic terminology. But the movie also has. I mean, we get Dani as someone who's their age, but also predominantly, they're just interacting with older men. Also the farmer. The farmer is sort of more closer to their age than some of the other men in the film, but predominantly they're interacting with older men when they're not interacting with, you know, the Irish guy at the pub or the poacher, like these bigger, scarier, more obviously manly type of guys. And there are no women in the film of their own age whatsoever, which is one of the first things I notice. They yell at those schoolgirls with. With Nell, yells at the schoolgirls out the window, scrubbers. Other than that, you don't see any women of their. I mean, not including that, you don't see any women of their generation. You only see those schoolgirls and then the older women, like, in the tea rooms in Penrith and the farmer's mother. So it's a world devoid of women and they're just really, really scared of the advances of men. And then in the cafe with the first scene where Marwood puts the kettle on and then goes down to the cafe, he's looking at the headlines in the newspaper and the first headline we see is, moment of fulfillment for local boy who became a woman. You know, the pipeline is boy to woman, nude. It's not boy to man. Right. There's no. This is the. This seems to be the crisis. How do you grow up and become. How do you become a man? Is the central idea, maybe, that Marwood and Withnail are struggling with. Are you. You can't really become a Monty. Monty has a whole history of montiness that obviously Marwood and Withnail don't share. You can't become the old drunk military man in the pub, and they're not capable of becoming Jeff Woad or the poacher or the big burly Irish guy. What is their route to manhood? Which is a weird thing because they both look old to be thinking about that, but whatever. 12:56 Wes: Yeah. Well, I want to focus a little bit on this news theme because I think it's the way the film starts and there's a relationship here to art as well, insofar as the news is what competes for attention with the aesthetic from others. People who are reading newspapers are not reading books. And in particular, it has to do with this salacious news. Right. So there's the woman becoming a man. Then there's the nude au pair's secret life. That's another headline These are real headlines apparently from the time and the way Marwood narrates this. And this is one of the great. There's just so much great dialogue, as you said, and some great voiceover as well. He says 13 million Londoners have to wake up to this. The murder and Albran and rape. And I'm sitting in this bloody shack and I can't cope with Withnail. I must be out of my mind. I must go home at once and discuss these problems and discuss his problems in depth. I thought it was these problems. It's written here as his discuss his problems in depth. When he gets home, Withnail is reading the news. And let's see, Curse of the Superman. Yeah, before that. There's just so many great lines in this I hate to skip over, but my thumbs have gone weird. I'm in the middle of a bloody overdose. I feel really dreadful. And then with nails, so do I. So does everyone. Look at my tongue. Gray yellow sock. And then goes on to talk about this curse of the supermen. People taking steroids to win competitions. Athletes like Jeff Woad. So in a world exclusive interview, 33 year old shot putter Jeff Woad, who weighs 317 pounds, admitted taking massive doses of anabolic steroids, drugs banned in sport. He used to get in bad tempers, says his wife. He used to pick on me, but now he's stopped. He's much better. In our sex life and in our general, the sex life of course comes first. And then, Jesus Christ. This huge thatch headed, this huge thatched head with its earlobes and cannonballs is now considered sane. And then Marwa would saying, please, I don't feel good with nail. That's what you'd say. But that wouldn't wash with Jeff. No. He'd like a bit of pleading add spice to it. In fact, he'd probably tell you that he was going to do what he was going to do before he did it. I'm going to pull your head off. No, please don't pull my head off. I'm going to pull your head off because I don't like your head. As you mentioned, this sort of paranoia about it's not just about sexual assault but it's about violence in general towards other men. Comes up quite a bit and this is just one of the instances of it. But it's connected here to this idea of the salacious events of the world. And so I guess I'm trying to draw a parallel. I'm trying to draw a connection here between the idea that being an artist makes you vulnerable to not just criticism, but to violence of some sort. And then the other idea here is that news of the salacious events of the world like this, in a way, is competition for attention. And so there's the potential to write. The real vulnerability for the artist is criticism from an audience or the disinterest, lack of interest from an audience. So that's also the kind of threat 16:34 Erin: that's being described here in this Jeff Wode instance. There's the idea too that you have to be a superman to get ahead. You have to be more than human somehow in order to achieve any kind of success in this world. And also inherent in that is this idea that you have to cheat because he's taking these, these steroids. But he's also already this huge guy, Withnail points out. Imagine the size of his balls. So there's always this, you know, imagine getting into a fight with him and that's then when he says, you know, he sort of does the imaginary dialogue. But this idea of sexual prowess is repeatedly linked with being superhuman somehow, or gargantuan. And Withnail and Marwood are kind of on the losing end of that. It occurs to me that even the poacher has a moment of being literally superhuman when he's, when he's pulling, you know, he pulls the eel out of his pants. And then he also has. He looks bigger than he is because it turns out he has, underneath his jacket, he's being sort of puffed up with the pheasants. It's almost like he has these prostheses that are making him more than human, more than just a normal man. And I. You know what's interesting too, in this, in the scene looking around the flat, they have these kind of Georgian style paintings on the walls. They almost look like Romneys. When Withnail is talking about the imaginary conversation with Jeff Woad, he walks over to the mirror and you see there's an illustration of kind of a medieval king sitting on the mantel that's sort of propped up against the mirror. And then there are also postcards of what look like palaces, probably. And it occurs to me that, you know, as you point out, this is also an anxiety of class. Oddly that though Withnail, not Marwood, I suppose, but though Withnail is upper class, that somehow leaves him vulnerable to the more vital, you know, working class men that could beat him up. And come to think of it, the king as an image of that is. Is also really interesting. This model of this medieval king with a Long sword. You have to be. You have to be at the top of the heap. Right. You have to be the king among aristocrats and therefore superhuman in that kind of way, almost to escape being seen as a feat somehow. 18:51 Wes: Yeah. So I sent you a kind of transcript of the movie, including some scene descriptions. And I don't know who did that. It's of the movie as shot and the original screenplay, as always, is different. But there's a lot of great writing in the original screenplay that doesn't make it into the transcript that we have and can't even be shot. So, for instance, despite the squalor, the room is furnished with antiques, heirlooms and other quality stuff. An indescribable melange of stuff crowds a low table. A large Victorian globe of the world soars above bacon rinds. So, okay, so all this stuff can be shot. I don't remember the bacon rinds. But anyway, objet d' art and breakfast remains compete for space. Then he says Dostoevsky described hell as perhaps nothing more than a room with a chair in it. This room has several chairs. That's the part that can't be shot. 19:46 Erin: That's in the scene description. 19:48 Wes: That's in the. Yeah. So he put it in there knowing, of course, this is supposed to not. You're. If you read a screenplay book, they told. Tell you you're never supposed to write stuff like that. That belongs in a novel. Right. It can't be shot, so it doesn't belong in there. But of course he put it in. 20:03 Erin: Well, it's conveys something to the scene dressers. 20:10 Wes: Yeah. He was also a novelist. Bruce Robinson, the writer and the director. And he was nominated for an Academy Award for adapting the Killing Fields. He wrote and directed how to Get Ahead in Advertising. Have you seen that? 20:25 Erin: I haven't seen it. I've seen the Killing Fields. 20:27 Wes: He worked with Truffaut as an actor. He was also an actor. He was in Romeo and Juliet by Franco Zeffirelli, the Italian director. And part of this movie is based on that because apparently Zeffirelli sexually harassed him on set. I think we were forced to watch that Romeo and Juliet version in high school. 20:48 Erin: Everybody. 20:48 Wes: Yeah. Despite a mysterious topless scene. Yeah, well, Juliet gets topless. Right. It's like the weirdest thing. 20:55 Erin: Stories of, like, teachers just standing in front of the television screen during that. I think that's kind of a universal experience where they, you know, they like. It happens, whatever. Or you get somebody standing in front to try to block the screen for a minute. 21:13 Wes: A Lot is based on his personal life, as I've already mentioned. He really did have a roommate, much like with nail, who did drink lighter fluid at some point. And he said he's basically compressed what went on for two years into a couple of weeks. But I mention all this just because I think you've gotten that the sense in which the talk about Superman has something to do with the idea that they have to be supermen in order to get ahead. I forget how you put it. But in any case, part of this is about ambition. They, like Jeff Woad, are on drugs and they in a sense are pushing themselves to the limit to see the limits of human performance. There's something the Olympics being a bum. 22:03 Erin: Yeah, that's great. That hadn't occurred to me, oddly enough. 22:08 Wes: And once again the news is directly competition. So Withnail says at one point where he says, you've had an audition. Why can't I have an audition? This is a recurring theme with him. He's always envious, you have soup. Where's my soup? Turns out to be coffee that, that Marwood is eating with a spoon. In any case, he'll end up saying, the only program I'm likely to get on is the fucking news. So this is another point where we get this implied competition with salacious events of the world and with these manly supermen who are nevertheless cheating. So how are you going to get ahead under those circumstances? When I was going over my, you know, after, after watching it again and going over the transcript, I thought, yeah, it's really. There's a really interesting feeling of complete desperation and paranoia and imminent catastrophe, like the world is going to end. Which again I think, you know, part of that's meant to capture the end of the 60s, but it's really about ambition. I think, you know, they complain a lot in the movie about where they are with their careers not getting parts and you know, their trying to be actors. But you get the sense that this is kind of a portrait of ambition itself. Regardless of how one is actually doing in the real world with one's aspirations, there's a kind of desperation and potential internal psychological squalor that can crop up in relationship to one's ambitious ideals. Right. So you might neglect yourself and everything practical in life in order to, right, devote yourself to being an actor or an artist or intellectual or something like that. More generally we might neglect our well being in the service of some grandiose self conception of ourself unrealistic aspirations. So the drug addled squalor that they're in is kind of an extreme case of that. But it's sort of. One could take it as representing this real bifurcation that happens within people, even within a psyche between an abject shadow self, as Jung would put it, and more grandiose, manic self related to the idea of the powerful great person that one might be. Or if you're completely psychotic, that you think you are godlike. Yeah. 24:47 Erin: They're taking drugs puts them in something of that kind of position perhaps. Right. Because there's the repeated idea of time in the film and that they're toying with time by taking these drugs that they can throw away a day if they want to. Right. Doesn't Marwood say that at some point we'll go, we'll have a drink and then we'll take some drug. I can't remember what it is. Some kind of antidepressant maybe. 25:12 Wes: Let me read this. It's about Marwoods doing a voiceover. Speed is like a dozen transatlantic flights without ever getting off the plane. Time change, you lose, you gain. Makes no difference so long as you keep taking the pills. But sooner or later you got to get out because it's crashing. And all at once those frozen hours melt through the nervous system and seep out the pores. Is that what you're thinking of? Such a great. 25:36 Erin: I was thinking of that. But as at a contrast to this moment, which I think I found. It's actually Withnail who says it. This is the plan. We'll get in there. This is when they're about to go into the mother black cap. We'll get in there and get wrecked. Then we'll eat a pork pie. Then we'll drop a couple of Sermontill 50s each. Means we'll miss out on Monday but come up smiling Tuesday morning. So they're planning on missing a day and just being. I think that's. That's what's going on there. That they're just going to be blacked out for a day. So there's the speeding up. Slow. 26:07 Wes: Hear about the drinking game associated with. 26:09 Erin: Yes, I did. Yeah. That's like the number one thing that came up on the search for. With nail and eye Lord try to 26:15 Wes: match with Withnail drink for drink. And at one point he orders. What is it? A quadruple whiskey and a pint or something anyway. 26:24 Erin: Right? 26:24 Wes: Yeah. You kill yourself if you really try to do it. 26:26 Erin: Yeah. But this. 26:27 Wes: Sorry. 26:28 Erin: Yeah. This. This idea of. You know. I think part of what you're suggesting about the news also. Also gets at this, right. There's a finite economy of time and attention, and. And you're trying to take a piece of that. And it occurs to me, too, that actors are among the unluckiest artists in that when you're not acting, you really do have nothing to do. You're just killing time between parts. It's not like if you're not being published or you're not getting your painting sold, that you, you know, your paintbrush is taken away from you. You could still keep working. I mean, it's difficult to do because it's difficult to work, you know, when your ego is being destroyed by not getting any kind of recognition whatsoever. But you can technically still keep going and keep working. But if you're not being cast in something, then you just. You can't do anything at all. And so this feeling of things being. I think you said there's a sense of dread hanging over the film and things kind of being over, or the idea that they're running out of time and the suggestion that it's because of the end of the 60s. I think that's true. But there's also the fact that the friendship is over. Right. Like, before the movie even starts, the friendship has basically ended. Because it seems like the dread from Withnail anyway is about knowing somehow that this audition is going to bear fruit for Marwood in some way, and so that has already caused the rift. 27:54 Wes: Did you sense that before the end of the movie? Cause I didn't. Yeah, I wasn't paying enough attention. So the ending caught me unawares, I guess. Yeah. 28:05 Erin: I think this is the tension between them from the beginning and the idea that Marwood is trying to establish sympathy or a connection between them by saying, we're in the same boat. And Withnail rejects that repeatedly. It's not just because Withnail's an egomaniac, though he is, and feels uniquely that he's suffering uniquely and. And uniquely entitled, though he does feel that way. It's also, I think, that he sees the writing on the wall, so he knows that Morwood is going to succeed and is on the way to some sort of success. I think that's part of it. It's like they start a clock on the end of the friendship, starting from the beginning of the movie. And. Oh, and there's also the fact that withnail is turning 30. There's the suggestion that one only has enough time to play Hamlet. Right. And Hamlet is, of course, about. Partially about dithering and wasting time and not dealing with time the way one should. And Monty says there comes a time when you realize you're never going to play the Dane. 29:07 Wes: Do you mind if I read it? 29:08 Erin: Please. 29:09 Wes: It is the most shattering experience of a young man's life when one morning he awakes and quite reasonably says to himself, I will never play the Dane. When that moment comes, one's ambition ceases. Don't you agree? It's a part I intend to play, Uncle. Which, of course, he does at the very end of the film when he does that speech. But that's a really good. I didn't think about that. Yeah. The relationship to time and dithering and even the irony of Monty saying you wake up and realize you're out of time to play Hamlet. 29:44 Erin: So, yeah, what does that mean? You're never going to get the opportunity, or you've aged out, or both. But really it means both. And with nail is turning 30. When you're far away from somebody up on a stage, you can get away with being a lot older than the part that you're playing. So presumably With Nail does have maybe 10, if not 15, if not 20 more years to play Hamlet, depending on how ridiculous the casting director is. But spiritually, maybe. 30:12 Wes: How old was Branagh when he played Hamlet? 30:15 Erin: Too old. 30:16 Wes: Seemed a bit too old. Yeah. 30:18 Erin: Yeah. Everybody who plays it on. On screen, you know, they. They've established themselves in it, which means they've been playing it for a long time, and by the time the screen adaptation comes up. So there's this idea that you could play with time. You could play with time when you're young and taking all these drugs and drinking all this, all these tremendous quantities seems to go hand in hand with this idea of youth. And youth seems to be something that you have to inherently squander. Something of that, I don't know, quality goes on in youth or is essential to youth that you're squandering it. And the 60s and youth culture and all of that is also running out. So I think, as Danny says, at some point they have to come down from the. From their trip with the end of the decade, and it's over now because they're selling hippie wigs at Woolworths, you know, so there's been some sort of. Some frozen in amber quality that's happening to the 60s, where it's possible to buy the trappings of the decade now in a store almost as a kind of costume, as a Halloween costume, or maybe as a, you know, a costume for an actor to then play the part of the 60s hippie. 31:27 Wes: Yeah. Let's talk a little bit more about Danny and then this connection that he makes between the end of the friendship and the end of the 60s. Right. So Danny is there. Maybe let's talk about the connection first, and then we'll get more into Dany's character, which is great. So Danny says to Marwood, you got the pirate man? Marwood says, I got a different one. They want me to play the lead. And then Withnail says, congratulations. And then they move on, or Dany moves on. Where exactly have you two been? Marwood Holliday, in the countryside. We don't know at this point that Danny is going to now eulogize the decade, but it's also, of course, a eulogy for the friendship. So Danny says, that's a very good idea. London is a country coming down from its trip. We are 91 days from the end of this decade, and there's going to be a lot of refugees. So of course, Withnail is one of those who's going to get left behind. Not everyone's going to be able to make the transition from. How do you characterize the 60s counterculture and youth culture and the kinds of aspirations it represented? And with, I would say, libertinism, sex, drugs and rock and roll and all that stuff. And in the end, the promise of all that didn't really pan out. And it's a sad moment. Right. Likewise, the end of the friendship of Withnail and Marwood is sad. And those two forms of sadness get connected. Anyway, Danny continues, they'll be going around this town shouting, bring out your dead. Reference to Monty Python. In fact, it's a reference to Monty Python, but It's set in 1969, before the Holy Grail movie was, in any case. Yeah. So going around this town shouting, bring out your dead. Which, of course, is where Withnail is at this point. And then they learn that they're going to be evicted. And it's partly because of what Danny's done with the landlord. Some bald geezer starts coming on really bald with me, it's a callback to the beginning of the film where he has a theory of baldness and uptightness. Is that it for Danny's eulogy? That and the idea when Marwood says he's not going to smoke any more grass, Danny says, that is an unfortunate political decision reflecting these times. And then finally Withnail says, what are you talking about, Danny? And Danny says, politics, man. If you're hanging onto a rising balloon, you're presented with a difficult decision. Let's go before it's too late. Or hang on and keep getting higher, posing the question, how long can you keep a grip on the rope? They're selling hippie wigs and Woolworths men. The greatest decade in the history of mankind is over. And as Presuming Ed here has so consistently pointed out, we have failed to paint it black. 34:20 Erin: I was having trouble reconciling Danny's hatred of bald men with his hatred of wigs. But I guess they're one and the same. You gotta just grow your own hair. 34:30 Wes: Yeah. What does he say about it? It's like the. Let's see. I don't advise a haircut man. All hairdressers are in the employment of the government. Hair are your aerials. They pick up signals from the cosmos and transmit them directly into the brain. This is the reason bald headed men are uptight. It's funny too, because Robinson based this character actually off a hairdresser. His hairdresser. Yeah. 34:53 Erin: When he calls a judge's wig a far out looking hat and when Withnail tells him it's a wig, he's like, no, no, this was more like a long white hat. It's like, yeah, it does look kind of weird. 35:05 Wes: It's a story about the coal man is what he calls him. Yeah. Where he goes to court and he's wearing. He has a fancy get up and then. Yeah, but that. Yeah, that's a good point. Calling the. Yeah. Not realizing that the judge's wig is actually a wig. But yeah, I just also too wanted to say a bit about Danny because in a way he's representative of. 35:28 Erin: He's a real hippie. 35:29 Wes: Yeah. But he's kind of a sage of sorts or a drug guru. The idea that somehow drugs can enlighten you, which I guess is, you know, it's an idea very much associated with the 60s and give you some special sort of wisdom. But of course, in his character he just comes across the way he's delivering his lines, which are just slow and it's obviously high. He's drug addled. But there's also supposed to be something sage about him. And he has a lot of other great lines of his own. Like St. Peter preached the epistles to the apostles looking like that. Referring to Marwood's not having any clothes on. There are various points where he's acting in a sage like manner, like saying he doesn't advise. Right. When he. That quote I just read about not advising a haircut or his theory of bald men. And then the kind of precision that he uses when he talks about drugs. So, for instance, when he gets in this fight, this fight with Withnail, and says, don't get uptight with me, man, because if you do, I'll have to give you a dose of medicine. And if I spike you, you'll know you've been spoken to. If I'd medicine you, you'd think a brain tumor was a birthday present. And then ultimately challenging Withnail to take this drug, which he calls phenodehydrochloride Benzorax, which I looked up and is not real street named him the embalmer. And then later on, Marwood says, give me some Valium, I'm getting the fear. And he says, you've done something to your brain. You've made it high. If I lay 10 mils of diazepam on you, you'll do something else to your brain. You will make it low. Why trust one drug and not the other? That's politics, isn't it? So all these kind of sage sounding. On the one hand, he's so laid back, it's like Daoism. Yeah, he's a slacker. On the other hand, there's this precision. Talks about the law, gives advice, uses technical name for drugs. It's this interesting synthesis, this interesting combination of those two trends. So I thought. I just wanted to point that out about Danny because he's such a great character. 37:50 Erin: He's also emblematic of the boy at the same time that he is a sage, this sort of 60s youth who. I mean, he does have a lot of pretty insightful things to say sometimes, but he keeps himself in a state of suspended animation almost with these. With these drugs. Like, he talks about retiring and going into business, which I really love that, that phrase, which is paradoxical or. Or eboric or something. And Withnail says, I thought you were in the bottle industry. Which is great because there's this idea that he's going to retire from the drug business, which is he's going to put away childish things like being in the bottle industry, which obviously there's this suggestion of. Of the baby bottle inherent in selling. Whatever. Selling prescription drugs out of bottles or selling contraptions to get yourself out of drunk driving charges by keeping pee in a bottle or. Right. Whatever. Whatever it is that he's involved in. And that. That kind of confusion also comes up later when he talks about papers. And he had just been talking about rolling a joint. So he has joint papers. But then he really is talking about the eviction notice. So there's a kind of double Meaning there. But anyway, he says, no, I'm gonna go into the toy. The toy industry. That's the grown up thing he's going 39:07 Wes: to do with a doll that craps itself. Yeah, yeah, great point. 39:11 Erin: The toy idea is really rich. I mean, there is a. There's a lot in the. In the movie about peeing oddly things. Things happen when people pee first. There's this idea, you know, he also has a voodoo some point that its head comes off and it has pills in it. There's this idea of Marwood and Withnail and Dany of only able to. Only being able to deal with things that are smaller than themselves. Right? So when they're going to fight the rat and they get all charged up about fighting the rat, they have this vigor about that because they're about to confront something that's smaller than them rather than repeatedly encountering, as they do, men who are bigger than them who might fight them. So there, there's this sort of, you know, Russian doll quality where you're picking on whatever is smaller than you. And so this interest in dolls and the shrunken down thing seems to be related to powerlessness and needing to deal with something smaller than oneself. Also there's this really interesting sort of gendered quality to this too because he says, like, oh, little girls love these dolls. They can take care of these things. They can clean up after the messes that these dolls make and they even enjoy it, Right. 40:23 Wes: If they like dolls that pee themselves, how much more are they going to like dolls that crap themselves? 40:30 Erin: Right, Right. But also, Marwood and Withnail have made just a disgusting. Just a shithole of their, of their flat. Right? And they are incapable, it seems, of cleaning up after themselves. And the women that are missing from the movie, is it their job to clean up after these men that are like children that can't clean up after themselves? You know, there's. There's something. Is this a message about why women are missing from the film or what. What role women would be playing in their lives if they had women? Or. I don't know, it's. 41:01 Wes: Would their flat be cleaner if they had girlfriends? 41:04 Erin: Yes, of course. Yeah. I mean, and they would be. And not only because the women are cleaning up after them, but because they would have to. They would, yes, clean up for the sake of the women. Right? 41:13 Wes: They would. They would have to. 41:14 Erin: So, yeah, so there's something. He's not thinking about women his own. Even Danny, right, isn't thinking about women his own age. He's thinking about these little Girls and giving them dolls almost in the interest of training them to grow up to clean after people like that, you know what I mean? Like, there's a strange hole at the center of the film where age appropriate women should be. And everything is geared in one to one extreme or the other. Children or elderly people, or people at least like Monty, a generation older than they are. So in other words, Dany is a sage, but he's also just as stunted as Marwood and Withnail in certain ways. 41:53 Wes: Don't get me wrong, Robinson based him on a hairdresser that he thought of as a complete idiot. 41:58 Erin: Yeah. No, I love Danny. 42:01 Wes: I mean, he's such a great character, but even the way he speaks supposedly is. Right. That's Robinson's direction to the actor who plays Danny to emulate that speech. Exactly. And the slowness of it and the accent and everything. 42:15 Erin: Well, he manages a lot of syllables. 42:18 Wes: Yeah. Seems like it became sort of a trope. Right. I've seen this character now many times in movies, Right. The idiot sage drug addict who's somehow precise and knowledgeable and yet drug addled and idiotic at the same time. 42:39 Erin: I was thinking of this even with Monty, his speech about being a boy and on the tandem bike with his little school chum. I was thinking that. Oh, the character of Gil Chesterton, I think is his name in Frasier. The gourmand who has the cooking or the restaurant review show. And he's always talking about romping with his school chums in Surrey or whatever. 43:02 Wes: Oh, that's funny. 43:03 Erin: That character probably was. You know, couldn't exist without Monty. 43:08 Wes: Well, let's talk about Monty for the second half. 43:11 Erin: Sure. 43:12 Wes: For the first part of the second half. And then you. I think we could use him as a segue into this theme that I raised about city, you know, the urban versus the rural and the romance of going into the countryside and the way that doesn't actually pan out for them. So, yeah, we'll talk about in part two. So we've reached the end of part one. patreon.com subtextpodcast or directly on Apple. If not, you can wait a week for part two. All right, thank you. 43:52 Erin: Thank you.

    • Transcript
  • March 23 · 39 min

    The Ethics of Seeing in Susan Sontag’s “On Photography” (Part 2)

    Photography is a technology of contradictions. It is at once mechanical and mysterious, even magical. It furnishes evidence of presence while being a token of absence. It can show us proof but can’t, without accompanying narration or context, make us understand. And perhaps most perplexing of all, it is an imperialistic technology which, paradoxically, atomizes the world and democratizes all events and experiences, making each viewer of photographs the owner of a facsimile-world in his or her head. Wes & Erin discuss two essays from Susan Sontag’s collection, “On Photography,” “In Plato’s Cave” and “America, Seen Through Photographs, Darkly,” and ask what constitutes photography’s “ethics of seeing,” and whether Sontag suggests an alternative comportment towards the camera, the subject, and the photographic image. Upcoming Episodes: Withnail & I; Waiting for Godot Pre-order Erin’s forthcoming book “Avail” here: http://subtextpodcast.com/avail For bonus content, become a paid subscriber at Patreon or directly on the Apple Podcasts app. Patreon subscribers also get early access to ad-free regular episodes. Also from Wes: Curtain Times, a calendar of Boston theatre, classical, talks and readings. Follow: Twitter | Facebook | Website Transcript 0:12 Erin: Okay. Welcome to part two of our discussion of two essays from Susan Sontag's collection on photography. We're covering In Plato's Cave and America Seen Through Photographs Darkly, which I've been bringing in a little bit primarily, but we've just been talking about In Plato's Cave. And I want to continue talking about the implied ethics, I want to call it, of Sontag's critique of photography by speaking of the ways in which photographs inure us. I think Sontag is very subtly setting up a shadow of that in which she's implying that there might be a different relationship to photography which we could somehow inculcate in ourselves. I wonder if we can use this essay, in other words, to spin out some theories about what Sontag would say is a more ethical relationship to the photographic image. I think there's a suggestion in a couple of places what that might be. Well, she has this idea, as we've already covered, that there is something aggressive and therefore imperialistic about photography, and also that it flattens and democratizes the world at the same time. And therefore, in a strange sort of way, I think her middle Ground, or what she might be very subtly advocating for, is a kind of aristocracy of images. A word which I'm not sure I'm totally comfortable using. And I don't want to put words in her mouth, but a curation of images which suggests a kind of hierarchical relationship. So the place that I'm getting this. And you'll tell me if I'm crazy for drawing this conclusion, but the place that I'm getting this is when she talks about. Photographs are themselves packaged. They're a way of packaging the world, and they somehow invite packaging. And then she talks about a photograph working well in a book. Because unlike a painting, which is not smooth and not printed out, a photograph already is smooth and printed. So when it's reproduced in a book, it keeps much of its essential quality. And she says, but still, the book is not a wholly satisfactory scheme. For putting groups of photographs into general circulation. The sequence in which the photographs are to be looked at is proposed by the order of pages, but nothing holds readers to the recommended order or indicates the amount of time to be spent on each photograph. Chris Marker's film, a brilliantly orchestrated meditation on photographs of all sorts and themes, suggests a subtler and more rigorous way of packaging and enlarging still photographs. Both the order and the exact time for looking at each photograph are imposed. And there is a gain in visual legibility and emotional impact. So that's where. That's where I'm getting this curation scheme from. You have a bunch of photographs in a book. You might open it up and flip through, and you're almost, you know, your eyes are kind of glazing over. You're not really looking at anything. You're not giving an equal amount of time to distinct images. And so she's implying that when photographs are in a film in which each photograph is given a set amount of time by some. Some director or some curator of these images who's forcing you to look at just say one photo for 15 seconds and then the next photo for 20 seconds. That this creates a different kind of relationship to the image and the person who is making this film. Curating this selection, determining the order, determining the amount of time allotted to each individual photograph is doing you a service, it seems. That's kind of what she's implying about this Chris Marker film, in which there's an imposed order. And she says, as a result, a gain in visual legibility and emotional impact. So to me, that implies that there is a better way to consume images. And that is by having someone who presumably knows More than we do curating that experience of images. For us, there might be some sort of curatorial relationship which is better than our current democratized, willy nilly relationship with images. Do you see where I'm getting this aristocratic. 4:24 Wes: Yeah. So there's not a lot in this essay that's positive. You know, we'll get to the way it concludes in a second. Which seems pretty globally negative. I mean, right? There are hints of the positive when she says, for instance, that after looking at Holocaust photos, I felt irrevocably grieved, wounded, but a part of my feelings started to tighten. Something went dead, something is still crying. So that's actually just a mixed picture right there. Grief, I think, would be a positive effect and would serve the ethical. Right. So one question is, to what extent can photography serve the political and the ethical? To what extent can it arouse conscience? And then to what extent does it arouse all these other feelings, like manic defenses in the sense of possessing the world and that other stuff? And the point that you're focusing on, which I think is early on in the essay. Right. Gets at the fact that a more curated relationship to images could have a more positive effect. And then we have to ask ourselves, you know, what kinds of effects are we thinking of? Are we thinking of the aesthetic, the moral, the political? Do we need them to be sequenced for us and into film form? Or is it enough to be in a museum and to have photographs by great artists? Of course, she's going to have quite an interesting critique of Diane Arbus in the next essay, and I've only read the first two essays of this book. So given that you've read the whole book, is there a more expansive, positive picture that she gives for photography? 6:02 Erin: Okay, no. And I think that's why I'm interested in trying to find the flip side of this critique. It might be that it simply just opens up a whole other can of worms, like who gets to curate? Who decides? Is it simply that there is some aristocracy of artists implied by this, say, this film director who's curated these images and set times for them? She finds this effective. So is it that artists are the ones who can curate these for us? Well, not really, because then she also has Arbus as an artist photographer. She's selecting subjects and choosing what to photograph. And Sontag has problems, as do I, with some of those selections. So I've set a sort of impossible task for us, which is to try and figure out what Sontag might have said or might be saying in some sort of shadow, of this essay, about what a positive relationship to photographs might be. Yeah, so it's all speculative, but there is an idea of refusal as well, of refusal of looking or a refusal to inure ourselves, which seems implicit in the. At the end of Plato's Cave and the discussion of understanding, the way the 7:14 Wes: essay wraps up, which is actually quite negative. She makes a few different negative points about photography. One is so on my page 16, she'll say the ethical content of photographs is fragile. And they're fragile because the pathos of pastness kind of swallows them up. She'll say the particular qualities and intentions of the photographs tend to be swallowed up in the general pathos of time past. So whether it's a photograph from 1900 that might have had some emotional effect back then to us, just might look old timey. And the old timeiness of it is more interesting to us than whatever pathos is there in the subject matter of the picture. And then she gets into the sort of incorporation of photography into institutions of control, like with the police, for instance, or bureaucracy. We photograph, we have to have a photographic id. And despite all that, she'll say there's an informational value to pictures in those bureaucratic contexts. But for most people, she'll say the informational value of pictures is on the same order as that of fiction. And she compares a tabloid like the Daily News to Le Monde, which runs no photographs. And the suggestion here is that by giving us pictures, the tabloid, in fact is farther away from truth than just the written word. And I think there's something to that. So that's what I take as the first of a kind of one, two punch at the end of the essay, a negative view of things. And then the other is more generally about photography fragmenting the world and getting at, I think, what you were. You just mentioned, which is the kind of foreclosure of genuine understanding because it makes the world seem more available than it actually is. We give ourselves the illusion of knowing things by way of the camera, the photograph. But we're denying the depth behind that surface. And so for that reason, I think she says, this is page 18 in my book. Basically, they can never give us political or ethical knowledge. So while it can goad conscience, it can finally never be ethical or political knowledge. The knowledge gained through still photographs will always be some kind of sentimentalism, whether cynical or humanist. You know, there's a little bit of positive light here, the idea that it can goad conscience, for instance, in certain contexts. And we're also not, you know, we're not hearing about film, you know, except for that part that you noted about putting still photos in sequence in a film. Is film better? I don't know. 10:06 Erin: I think it is. I think it is. She does call television a stream of under selected images, right? Each one canceling out the one before or something like that. And so that under selection seems to kind of exonerate it in a way and also make it less interesting. I should say that I think there could be more positive. I read the first four in the book for the purposes of the podcast. I've in the past read the whole book, so I could be just not remembering a more positive. She does say in one of the essays, for instance, I remember that photographs don't teach us about surprising things that are ugly. You know, they don't surprise us really with ugliness, but they can surprise us with beauty. So that they could be a way to find more in the world, which is surprisingly beautiful. So that would be an example of something I could think of which is a positive statement about photography. But for the most part, the relentless criticism. And she's someone who enjoyed film, and film has a bunch of implications which make it fall outside of the critiques that she levies against photographs. Like just the mere fact that if it's a. If it's a film with a plot, it's not purporting to be an image of something real or of something that really happened. I mean, it is insofar as those actors really were all standing together in a room. Maybe not anymore, but it used to be evidence that they were all standing together in a room. But I think it has just a vastly different set of moral qualities about it. But she says only that which narrates can make us understand and that we need narrative. Photography implies that we know about the world if we accept it as the camera records it. But this is the opposite of understanding, which starts from not accepting the world as it looks. All possibility of understanding is rooted in the ability to say no, Strictly speaking, one never understands anything from a photograph. And then later in the paragraph, only that which narrates can make us understand. So this. This very idea that we need narration is, I think, what I'm getting at here when I'm describing that she's implicitly making this argument that aristocracy is some kind of middle road. That can help, because I think that's. That's the implication of needing a narrative who is only that which narrates can make us understand. Well, what is going to narrate to us, what narration are we going to receive? Who is going to be the one who narrates? That's very opaque to me. But it seems we do need a narrator. There are people who by implication here are in some sort of privileged position to be able to narrate these images to us. 12:40 Wes: Yeah, I think that's important. So in a way, we need a point of view. And the photograph might give us the idea that we have a view from nowhere, in a sense, but also because it can't give us all the context and it can't give us a narrative and it's outside of time in a sense. Or it doesn't cover an expanse of time. It doesn't give us the ability to fully understand, which is not by itself a problem, except that it gives us the illusion of understanding because it's. Look, there's reality. 13:09 Erin: Right, Right. And so this is where everybody is the king of their own kingdom of mental images, determining which is making up meaning from within that image world. Even though the possibility of finding meaning in a given image is entirely dependent on it being properly narrativized so that we might superimpose meanings on images which aren't really there. 13:34 Wes: She gives this great. Just around the place where you read. The camera's rendering of reality must always hide more than it discloses. In contrast to the amorous relation which is based on how something looks, understanding is based on how it functions and functioning, takes place in time and must be explained in time. Only that which narrates can make us understand. I hope I didn't just reread exactly the same quote. Maybe it's worth rereading twice. So that's very important. Understanding requiring an understanding of function and therefore requiring the inclusion of time and the need for narration. 14:14 Erin: And this refusal idea, which I should tip my hand a little bit more and explain that. The reason why this stuck out to me and why I suddenly wanted to think about a positive ethics of relations of our relationship to photography is that I got into a kind of argument with somebody a couple of weeks ago when I said that I didn't like to expose myself to certain images. 14:38 Wes: Why they can't see you. Just kidding. 14:42 Erin: And I was concerned about being inured to. I mean, specifically, we were talking about Game of Thrones and I just said that I really didn't. I knew about the kinds of things that are in Game of Thrones and I did. And I realized this is obviously like dwarves, we've just been taught. Yes, exactly. 14:59 Wes: That's why you can't look at Diane Arbus either. 15:02 Erin: Exactly. No, but, you know, we were talking about that show, and I said, oh, you know, it seems like it would be a really interesting show to watch, and I just can't. I'm really hypersensitive to this. Like, I've tried to basically maintain my sensitivity by not exposing myself to certain images because I do not want to desensitize myself. And this person thought that in doing so, I was coddling myself, essentially, and that I had a fundamentally immature relationship to the subject matter by not seeing these things, which I really disagreed with. And I. You know, all of that came back again. Somehow the Sontag came up at this interesting time where I had just had that conversation, and I thought, well, what she's really advocating for here is something similar to what I was arguing, which is a kind of hygiene of vision. Her idea seems to be that the worst thing we could do is not intervene in a situation which requires our intervention. So having a camera in our hand, I think, for Sontag, can be problematic in that there might be a situation which needs our help or our intervention. And by holding a camera, we might not be able to intervene and help someone. We might simply be in a voyeuristic relationship to, say, a mugging. I don't know. So we should be in a position where we are able to help the person being mugged instead of just standing there going, oh, this is great. I'm capturing a mugging live on my iPhone, you know, and I'm going to broadcast it to my followers. So I think that what Sontag is saying is that we need to be able to intervene, and that is what is negative about having a camera. And that part of our ability to intervene or to even recognize that something that is happening is wrong or bad or whatever ugly or something is not being inured to those occurrences by simply being inundated with lots of examples of that so that we are no longer able to even determine that, you know, this is a very extreme example, but we're not even able to determine that a mugging is bad, right. So that we can't even intervene in the mugging because we don't think it's particularly bad, because, well, we're inundated with images of muggings every day, so it's a normal thing. So we might as well just photograph it instead of intervening in some way. Again, that's a silly and sort of extreme example that I'm using just to illustrate what I think her point is. So something about, I think, not desensitizing ourselves seems to be important to Sontag, so that we maintain our sensitivity to things which deserve that sensitivity, so that we can be properly morally outraged when confronted with real moral outrages, and so that we can intervene when a situation needs our intervention. I think that is ultimately what she's saying, must be preserved from the jaws of photography. But that may not be accurate and I may simply be interpreting this so as to win the mental argument that I'm still having with this person. Right. Well, I think, I mean, I think 18:09 Wes: clearly she's, you know, she's pointing to this double edged sword of the. There's the capacity of photography to arouse the conscience and then. But it can also inure us, as you're pointing out, and she points out, but. And it does that in the same way it shocks us. But then if we get shocked enough times, we can be inured. And then. So the question is, do I avoid all exposure? Do I try to titrate it? Do I try to get just the right amount of exposure? Or do I atrocity. Do atrocity porn all day? This is kind of a dilemma with the news, right? 18:48 Erin: Yes, exactly. 18:49 Wes: And it doesn't need to be photographic. I think, unfortunately, even when there's narrative, in the case of the news, it can be bad for us. So I kind of have a compromise where I look at it a little bit, but then I try not to linger over it anymore just because it's not because I have self discipline, but just because it's gotten so depressing. But it frees up a lot of time. So I want to maintain some awareness, but I don't want to harm myself by doing that. I don't want to just have my head in the sand. But on the other hand, I want to protect myself. 19:19 Erin: Just to bring in the essay here, she says to suffer is one thing. Another thing is living with the photographed images of suffering, which does not necessarily strengthen conscience and the ability to be compassionate. And that's really important is, I think for her is to strengthen that conscience and the ability to be compassionate, to be able to act, to be able to intervene. It can also. This is Sontag again. It can also corrupt them. Once one has seen such images, one has started down the road of seeing more and more images. Transfix images anesthetize an event known through photographs certainly becomes more real than it would have been if one had never seen the photographs. Think of the Vietnam War. But after repeated exposure to images, it also becomes less real. And I think that is a problem. She Goes on to talk about pornography and the anesthetizing that. That happens when we. When the shock of pornography wears off. And then she says in these last decades, quote, unquote, concerned photography, that is, you know, photography which is designed to arouse our ethical function by showing us atrocities that we should be outraged by. Concerned photography has done at least as to deaden conscience as to arouse it. Yeah. So again, this sends me into, you know, this, this question of, okay, then, what is the proper amount? What is a proper comportment to images? Which sends me down that sort of aristocratic rabbit hole. Who's going to be responsible for determining what is the correct amount of exposure by the masses to these images? To a certain extent, it's. It is media corporations. 20:53 Wes: It's not going to be the sovereign. Plato in Plato's Republic. I was thinking about the argument between Plato and Aristotle earlier when you're talking about Game of Thrones, because the Platonic argument is that you could be corrupted by identifying with the person or the God doing the immoral thing. You get infected with their passions and your soul can be. Your character can be corrupted by it. And I think there's a point to that. And then the Aristotelian argument is actually. No, there's a cathartic effect. I can identify with characters, even characters doing crazy, violent things without necessarily being contaminated by them. There's a more complicated psychological relationship. I think they're both right to some extent. 21:36 Erin: Well, I think that's about the narrative element of Game of Thrones, whereas I'm concerned more with what Sontag is talking about here. I don't want those images in my head. 21:44 Wes: Yeah, well, that's a good distinction. Yeah, that's an important distinction. I was going to add to that. I do think the. It's an important point that they're talking about ancient Greek plays. Right. So there's an important visual part of this, including the masks. But leaving that aside, I think narrative is a problem too. And this came up in one of my first subtext episodes, which you were not on, but it about Slaughterhouse 5. And there's a worry in that novel about can you write about any of this without actually sensationalizing it or glorifying it in some way? Can you do that with war? Because war is exciting. And so even for narration, I think it becomes a problem or remains a problem, let's put it that way. I think narration helps. Well, let me give another example. When I was an animal healthcare reporter, worked for the Animal Healthcare magazine, I wrote a very Positive. I'm sure I've told this story before, but I wrote a very positive profile of someone who started one of the first animal cruelty sections within a police department. Yeah. She wasn't happy with the profile because it was fictionalized. Not because I put in any wrong facts, but just because I created a narrative. I created a story out of it, tried to make it interesting to an audience. And that by itself, even if everything is. We fact checked. We had a fact checker calling people. That by itself is distorting. That's kind of why I said you need a point of view. You need someone to be an essayist. I think in the end, whether they're doing that with photographs or with words or with a documentary. And that's the other thing I was thinking about when you were talking about sequencing in time. And you can write. Documentaries will include photographic stills often, and then contextual narrative around it. Think of something like Ken Burns, and then you have the right music, you got it all. 23:33 Erin: Great actors to read out letters. 23:36 Wes: Good voice, good narrators. Such good voices. The problem she's identifying doesn't go away. There's something better about the idea that one is involved in an essay. One is involved in making a point or having a point of view. And that it's not just a view from nowhere. I take a picture of my cat. Yep, that's my cat. She really exists. That's objective reality. But if I take a picture of her posing. Because she's also a model supermodel and she likes to pose. Yeah, that's an opinion. I mean, it's not an opinion that she's a supermodel. That's a fact. Or that she's beautiful. But it's. The particular posing in the photograph is an opinion. And that's a segue to chapter two, America Seen Through Photographs Darkly. Because it. Or to the second essay. Sorry, because it. Right. Part of the point is that Arbus is. She's got an agenda. She's got a certain opinion. And it's a kind of leveling thing where everything is made grotesque, whether it's actual freaks or just suburbanites. And this kind of condescending attitude towards suburbanites is something you interestingly see in contemporary streaming shows. Isn't it quaint that people are so normal? Aren't they cute? 24:55 Erin: Yes, that's right. 24:57 Wes: But it starts from. And I mean, it's such a great essay, but it starts from this. She traces it back to kind of. To Walt Whitman's idea of a democratic embrace of all experience, where I Think the point is to lift up ordinary life and say, oh, isn't everything majestic in some sense? Or isn't everything a manifestation of God or whatever? So it's in the same tradition, but it's actually leveling down rather than leveling up. But at least we know there's curation to that. But at least we understand, even if we don't like that project, that we're engaged with someone who is engaged in that kind of what you'll call surrealist project. For depicting America as a surrealist nation. 25:42 Erin: The hyper selection of Arbus work really suggests a distinct point of view, much like the HBO imperative to deliberately show things as disgusting as they could possibly be for the purposes of titillation. But they I was most interested in. In her analysis of Arbus character, she ultimately ascribes a naivete which is both coy and sinister. She says in the photograph's acceptance of the appalling. This is at the paragraph beginning. The most striking aspect of Arbus's work is that she seems to have enrolled in one of art photography's most vigorous enterprises, concentrating on victims, on the unfortunate, but without the compassionate purpose that such a project is expected to serve. She talks about Arbus's aggressiveness toward the public, which has been treated as a moral accomplishment. This is just a fabulous essay. I love this essay. I think this is the best thing ever written about Arbus, who, if she did bother you before, will certainly bother you after you read this. Yeah. So the naivete of these photographs, Sontag says, is both coy and sinister, for it is based on distance, on privilege, on a feeling that what the viewer is asked to look at is really other. Sontag says that there's a deliberate desire on Arbus part to inure us, to deaden our response to this kind of thing or to show us things that are shocking. And then the comportment that we have, say, in the art gallery, I mean, you know, we can imagine being people in the early 60s encountering this in a gallery. We're supposed to not be horrified by this or not show that we're horrified by this. Right. We're supposed to actually affect total nonchalance in the face of some very disturbing 27:32 Wes: images like that nudist camp woman with the apron. Yes, yes, topless, but except for an apron, because you don't want to spill coffee on yourself. You want to get coffee all over your thighs. I don't know. 27:48 Erin: Right. 27:49 Wes: There's times when clothing is just necessary. Okay, maybe not stay warm, but she 27:55 Erin: calls this a Self willed test of hardness, both on the part of Arbus and I suppose on the part of the people who look at Arbus photographs. And that ultimately the intent that people like Arbus have in going out and collecting these images of pain is not to feel more, but to feel less. And that too seems to be part of an inherent part of Sontag's say, moral vision, such as we can piece it together in these two essays, which is that we should be trying to feel more, not less. So I would say that this deadening is for Sontag a very negative thing, that we should be trying to preserve some kind of sensitivity. And because she says here, here, here is the key, it works out not as a liberation of, but as a subtraction from the self. A pseudo familiarity with the horrible reinforces alienation, making one less able to react in real life. I think that's as much kind of the moral key for Sontag as any sentence in here. So that subtraction from the self is what happens, I think, when she's saying, when we expose ourselves to these deadening images, we actually have less self as a result of this. In a way, it's what you're describing with the belief that being photographed takes away part of your soul or something like that. This is Sontag's transmogrification of that idea. 29:16 Wes: There's a part just for the one that you're focusing in on, where she talked about. Whitman preached empathy, concord and discord, oneness and diversity, psychic intercourse with everything, everybody plus sensual union. When he could get it is the giddy trip that is proposed explicitly over and over again in the prefaces of the poems. This longing to proposition the whole world also dictated his poetry's form and tone. Whitman's poems are a psychic technology for chanting the reader into a new state of being and then a little lower, meant to get readers psychically airborne, to boost them up to the height where they can identify with the past and with the community of American desire. But this message of identification with other Americans is foreign to our temperament now. So yeah, with Whitman you get this impetus to merger in a way with the past and with others, this impulse to oneness. And that's precisely what you're not getting with Arbus. The monsters that she's photographing are not inviting you to identify with them. Right, Since a lot of them are ugly. People can go look at her, her photography, but it's basically like trying to create a freak show out of everything, even out of maybe a normal couple standing there, depending on the way things are framed. So there's a kind of anti humanist message here, according to Sontag. 30:48 Erin: Yes. And Arbus doesn't want you to feel distance from that, though that's what's really interesting. Is this not. What was the word you used with Whitman? 30:58 Wes: Identification or merging? 31:00 Erin: Identification or merger. You're not supposed to feel that identification at all. But what's aggressive Sontag is saying about the photos is that she doesn't allow you to feel any distance from them. So it's like you're in close quarters with the other. And it's designed to make you feel this intense discomfort for that closeness and for the way in which these people are being photographed. And yet that feeling, that otherness, very intensely is part of it. So it's a sort of anti merger. You're put up close and it's designed to induce this reaction of discomfort, embarrassment, pain, shock, all of these things, which words which I think Sontag uses to characterize the experience of being in contact with these images. The most interesting observation, I think for me in the whole essay is when Sontag says that Arbus's interest in freaks. This is on page 43 in my Picador edition. Arbus's interest in freaks expresses a desire to violate her own innocence, to undermine her sense of being privileged to vent her frustration at being safe. I love that. That's. I think that's really key. I think a lot of people are reacting against safety by trying to, say, manufacture instances in which they remain safe but which feel unsafe to try and shock themselves into some. What they perceive as being some sort of more authentic relationship with the world. Anyway, I found that to be incredibly insightful and fascinating and it was somehow recognizable to me. It's psychologically revealing about Arbus, but it also reveals something about maybe what we might call the false promise of photography, which is to give us a sense that we've experienced something outside of our comfort zone in a way which is prepackaged and which doesn't actually come with any of the attendant, say, moral lessons that real experience might provide. Do you know what I'm saying? So there's something, I think illustrative about all of our relationship with photography in the character analysis she does of Arbus in this moment. Though it's also very specific and interestingly revealing about Arbus particular character. 33:12 Wes: Yeah, she says that the photographs in a way are too cool for school. It's like the compassionate response to them is supposed to be irrelevant. We're not supposed to feel horrified. Right. When we look at the Pictures, we're too cool for that kind of thing. And one might see that as a kind of way to destigmatize and to level experience and say, well, nothing is really freaky or everything is really freaky. But I think she sees it as a kind of unsavory inurement to reality. Right? 33:42 Erin: Yeah. 33:42 Wes: She contrasts Arbus kind of middle class or privileged, maybe upper middle class, yes, quite privileged Jewish existence and this enhanced desire to seek out a kind of corrective for that, to seek out some sort of adversity and violate her own incidents, sorry, innocence and you know, overcome the sense of being privileged. 34:08 Erin: I think everybody is suffering from this to a certain extent in the modern era because we don't actually have enough friction in our lives. And I think we feel the lack of what we might call experiences that are meaning making or character building because we're not suffering in the ways that previous generations have suffered. I mean people are certainly, they're suffering in different ways, but ways which are maybe less legible to us than what we're used to or what we think of in our minds as being acceptable or historically ways in which we might develop ourselves. And I think people feel the lack of that and they try to create those almost like self impose that suffering through a variety of other means. And so I think that is a little bit of what Sontag is getting at here. This is the way that Arbus is trying to do it by taking these close up shots with, with these people who look freaky and forcing us to look at it and be uncomfortable. And then we're supposed to just sort of look at it and act very nonchalant. And I remember being in a, I remember being in a museum with a, with a friend of mine from college who had none of the, I guess, training and nonchalance that people usually get at some point than going to museums or just, I don't know, learning, learning some sort of disaffected behavior from the people around them. And so we went into some modern art exhibit. I don't even remember what it was, but I just remember her going, oh my God, you know, like, like really loudly having these reactions and calling a lot of attention to herself. And now of course reading this, I'm like, of course, you know, she was actually doing the exact right thing. And probably Sontag would approve of that reaction because it's proof that she hadn't been anesthetized. She's actually having a real authentic reaction rather than a put on of, mmm, yeah, you're looking at something horrifying and you're supposed to just shrug your shoulders and walk on to the next image and brush it off. I think to a certain extent Sontag is saying we should maybe refuse to do that or we should recognize the falseness in doing that at least. 36:12 Wes: Yeah, there's a cynicism to it. And this maybe we can give listeners a taste of the way she ends the essay. Bringing it back to Whitman and making equivalences between freaks, mad people, suburban couples and nudists is a very powerful judgment, one in complicity with a recognizable political mood shared by many educated left liberal Americans. The subjects of Arbus's photographs are all members of the same family, inhabitants of a single village. Only as it happens, the idiot village is America. Instead of showing identity between things which are different, Whitman's democratic vista. Everybody is shown to look the same. Succeeding the more buoyant hopes for America has come. A bitter, sad embrace of experience. There's a particular melancholy in the American Photographic project, but the melancholy was already latent in the heyday of Whitman esque affirmation, including Stieglitz. So I'm skipping a little bit. So the Whitman esque appetites have turned pious. The photographer now patronizes reality photographers with less ego and magnetism. than Stieglitz gradually gave up the struggle. They might continue to practice atomistic visual stenography. The atomistic visual stenography inspired by Whitman, but without Whitman's delirious powers of synthesis. What they documented was discontinuity, detritus, loneliness, greed, sterility. So it ends in a way on the same note as the last essay with this movement towards atomism. Right. We started out with Whitman's leveling, being about a movement towards unity. And this is still a leveling, but it's more about we all end up the same level as our own little freaky disconnected atoms, rather than being somehow ennobled together. 38:03 Erin: I mean, it just gets worse from here. Right. There's no stopping this train. So maybe I've been wrong all along to look for some sort of alternative or instructions for a solution. 38:17 Wes: America has been discovered as the quintessential surrealist country. That's the one that I wanted to get to. This idea of succumbing to surrealism. 38:28 Erin: Yeah. 38:28 Wes: So quite pessimistic. And it sounds like from what, you know, the rest of the book, there's not much optimism. 38:36 Erin: Well, I mean, yeah. Though I don't want to give listeners the impression that these aren't exhilarating and really fun essays to read. 38:43 Wes: Yeah. I mean, I think you're doing well as a country if you have a writer like this. Yeah, she's amazing. So. Yeah, that's why I talked about a point of view in the essay. In the end, this is an argument for being a great essayist as opposed to a stenographer. And photography lends itself to stenography. 39:05 Erin: Right. 39:05 Wes: All right. Any last words before we put America to bed? No. 39:10 Erin: No. I love that. Sontag herself is the solution. That's music to my ears. 39:18 Wes: All right. Thank you. 39:20 Erin: Thank. You.

    • Transcript
  • March 17 · 44 min

    The Ethics of Seeing in Susan Sontag’s “On Photography”

    Photography is a technology of contradictions. It is at once mechanical and mysterious, even magical. It furnishes evidence of presence while being a token of absence. It can show us proof but can’t, without accompanying narration or context, make us understand. And perhaps most perplexing of all, it is an imperialistic technology which, paradoxically, atomizes the world and democratizes all events and experiences, making each viewer of photographs the owner of a facsimile-world in his or her head. Wes & Erin discuss two essays from Susan Sontag’s collection, “On Photography,” “In Plato’s Cave” and “America, Seen Through Photographs, Darkly,” and ask what constitutes photography’s “ethics of seeing,” and whether Sontag suggests an alternative comportment towards the camera, the subject, and the photographic image. 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Today we're discussing two essays from Susan Sontag's collection on photography in Plato's Cave and Seen Through Photographs Darkly, and asking what constitutes photography's ethics of seeing and whether Sontag suggests an alternative comportment towards the camera, the subject, and the photographic image. This is Erin O'Luanaigh. This is Wes Alwan, and you're listening to Subtext. So, Wes, just coincidentally, I've been printing out tons of photographs over the last few days of my sister at various stages of her life because I'm the maid of honor for her wedding and I'm throwing her bridal shower. So, you know, we had decided to cover these essays. And then just over the last couple days, I happened to be looking through old family photo albums anyway, so it's been a strange thing to read these essays in tandem with that. And I've been thinking about how attached I am. I wouldn't say that I take a lot of photos, but I love photos. I love photos of family. I have photos everywhere, and various apartments I've lived in have always been covered in photos. I just wonder what your relationship is. You don't strike me as someone who takes a lot of photos either. Do you have a lot of photo albums? Are there certain photos that you love looking at? Do you have attachments to photos? 2:10 Wes: I do have some photo albums and I used to curate those much more actively when I was in my 20s and maybe 30s, but because it's become much less common to actually, you know, there was a time when you had to take your disposable camera to the. To the pharmacy and have them do their magic. And you. 2:32 Erin: I'm going to the pharmacy after this to pick up. Oh, really? Yeah, because I'm making displays which are for the bridal shower, so I have to go pick up prints from CVS for the first time in years. Just later this afternoon. 2:48 Wes: Amazing. That's the. 2:49 Erin: The coincidences that. Bizarre. 2:51 Wes: Yeah. You know, and then you'd have to wait a couple weeks or whatever, and it was. But sad to say, I think the. What do you even call them? What's the thing? You keep your photos in the binder. Those are in storage. And I've digitized everything. I digitized everything. And I digitized a bunch of my mom's photos that she had kind of lying around because I wanted some of those. But she would always. She's always worried about me taking her photos. You know, like, it was always a thing with my mom and me. Like, she accused me of stealing her books, which I. Which I did, and taking the taking as a kid, you know, like taking her books out of her room and putting them in my room or out of the living room and just putting them on the shelves in my room. But anyway, yeah, now I have a digital collection, and I can't say that I spend a lot of time looking at that, except for pictures of my cat. Those are like the main pictures that I take if I go on a vacation. So recently I was in Tucson and went up to Mount Lemmon and did various things. So I'll take a few photos. How do I put this? I don't take a lot. I don't like the way it. It's, you know, for reasons that Sontag talks about, the way it interrupts the experience, or it feels like I'm trying to behave in an acquisitive way towards the experience or commodify it. And also, I don't know what the point is exactly. I mean, you see people taking so many photos. It's like, how would you ever have the time in your life to go back and look at all the photos that you're taking? No one's going to even have the time. It goes into the cloud, the cloud storage, and that's it. And it's reassuring to know that it exists there. So you have that you could go back to it, but she probably won't. 4:39 Erin: It occurred to me that a lot of what Sontag covers in the essays is just even more apparent now with the iPhone. And so a lot of this seems to me to be super relevant. But one of the phenomena that I've been talking about with a friend of mine in relation to this. Yeah, just these thousands and thousands of images that live on our phones or on our computers is, I think, this further, I don't know, democratization of experience that she's talking about, which is, you know, how you go into. Into iphotos and it'll show you. Well, first of all, everything is organized by date. There are maps, too. Like, you could look at the map of the world and see the photos that you've taken in different locations. But specifically this on this date function where it will show you what you were doing on the same day a year ago, five years ago, whatever. And Facebook does this too, right? With Facebook memories, which I was obsessed with for a while, probably around the time that it first rolled out or when I first noticed it, which might have been a long time afterwards. And it had this curious effect, specifically the days in which it would. There was nothing that you had posted on that day in all the years that you've had Facebook, if you, if you know it's today is March 2nd, if there was nothing that you ever did on March 2nd that you posted on Facebook about it would tell you you have no memories on this day, which I thought was, you know, chilling. And it would. It almost spurs you to want to. I mean, it doesn't for me, but it would spur you to want, know what you were doing on that day or to post something so that next year, on March 2, you would have something that, you know, some evidence that you existed on that day. But in, in relation to this, this democratization, it's as if all of these photo apps now want every day to be like an anniversary or a birthday. Every day becomes a significant day. So insofar as every experience a photograph, as Sontag says, becomes flattened. Everyone who's. Who's photographed is a celebrity and therefore everyone is a celebrity and therefore nobody's a celebrity. This tying it to a date so that you might be, you know, 50 years ago. You might be photographed every, every year on your birthday and every year at school picture day or something like that. And other than that, maybe you don't have. And graduation, maybe you don't have very many everyday photos of your life now. It's as though every day of the year is some kind of big event. And if you don't have a photograph from that specific date, there's this black hole in your photographic record. The attempt to capture everything in your life and therefore give meaning to every moment of your life. And obviously the flip side of that is taking away meaning in every moment of your life. That creep, it just seems to get more and more like, I wonder what the next step is beyond that. Once, once every day has become an anniversary, you know, is it going to show you what you were doing hour by hour, minute by minute, where you were what. When you go places, will it ping on your phone? Your past photographs from that particular street corner, Starbucks, hotel, me get pen, I 7:42 Wes: need to write these ideas down, because I can get AI to Vibe code this for me. 7:49 Erin: I don't know what the point of any of this is, just that, yeah, I was really interested in this idea of an imperializing democracy that Sontag pinpoints. And that's kind of the. Where I wanted to begin. But I'm going about it in a very weird way. 8:03 Wes: Yeah, that's interesting. A kind of leveling that between experiences that becomes overpowering or subjects us. Is that the idea? 8:12 Erin: Yeah. She makes the point very subtly. She says on page seven, this is in Plato's cave. From its start, photography implied the capture of the largest possible number of subjects. Painting never had so imperial a scope. The subsequent industrialization of camera technology only carried out a promise inherent in photography from its very beginning, to democratize all experiences by translating them into images. It's a bit of a stretch, but I just noted the proximity in the paragraph. I mean, they're a sentence apart from each other. Imperial and democratize. So the sense that it's a. It's that photography is attempting to colonize the whole world. But what it's doing really is setting up the pseudo world of images which stands in parallel to the actual world. Everything in the world is captured in individual photographs. So everything is atomized, it's democratized because anything photographed becomes equivalent to anything else that is photographed. And then there's also this democracy where we're all imperial rulers over. Over the image world that we've constructed in our own heads that gives us the impression that we own it or that we understand it or that we can see it and kind of map it in our own heads, whether we've been to these places or not. And that that's somehow given to everybody. So we're all emperors over our own internal image worlds. And the equality of that is the democratic part, I suppose. I think something like really complex is happening in the. In her use of those two terms side by side. 9:51 Wes: Right. There's a sense in which photographs become an aid to memory. And they can also become a replacement for memory. And that's part of the problem. So the minute that you're taking a snapshot of something on a vacation, it takes you out of the experience because, again, it gives you the sense that you've acquired it. And I've put it in my little box. My little. It's like taking a note now. I don't have to, really. If I don't have to rely on memory, then why let myself be as immersed in the experience as I might otherwise? Let myself be. Because that's on the record. Something like that. But here, at the point that you were quoting her, she had just talked about how despite the fact that photographs are used as evidence and they can incriminate and they can justify and they suggest that something exists, there's always the selection. Selection becomes a kind of interpretation. We decide what we're going to photograph and when we're going to photograph them and how. And eventually, as we get into the other essay, how people are going to pose and all of that stuff. So she mentions taking shots of sharecroppers in a way that'll express their poverty and dignity, for instance. But the other aspect here, I think that you're getting at is the kind of aggression that's paradoxically involved in passivity and ubiquity. So maybe just to read. We'll give people an idea, since she's such a fabulous essayist. I'll just read it. Images which idealize, like most fashion and animal photography, are no less aggressive than work, which makes a virtue of plainness. Like class pictures, still lifes of the bleaker sort and mugshots, there is an aggression implicit in every use of the camera. This is as evident in the 1850s, photography's glorious first two decades, as it is in all the succeeding decades during which technology made possible an ever increasing spread of that mentality which looks at the world as a set of potential photographs. Even for such early masters as David Octavius Hill and Juliet Margaret Cameron, Julia Margaret Cameron, who used the camera as a means of getting painterly images, the point of taking photographs was a vast departure from the aims of painters. I think you already read this. Right from its start, photography implied the capture of the largest possible number of subjects. Painting never had so imperial a scope. The subsequent industrialization of camera technology only carried out a promise inherent photography in photography from its very beginning. To democratize all experiences by translating them into images. So it's there. Interestingly, the kind of thing that the advance of technology makes possible, I think she thinks is already there from the very beginning, this democratization of experience. But it really accelerates it. And then we get into the ubiquity of it with everyone has a pocket camera, and little did she know that real it would all just be in the phone. You'd sound like a crazy person if you said that around this time. And everyone would just have phones in their pockets that were also cameras. 13:04 Erin: I guess another way of putting this is to say that photography is an aggressive imperialistic enforcement of a democratic relationship to the world, which is to say a sort of enforced equality or flattening. That paragraph, I think, is the most interesting in an essay full of just the most brilliant paragraphs. 13:27 Wes: Agreed. 13:28 Erin: In response to what you said about. About photographs becoming a replacement of memory, I think that's absolutely true, and I think that's even more true now. I mean, I think it's true in a way that Sontag never could have anticipated. I mean, she's. She's already sort of hinting at it, of course, But I do think that there's something almost quaint now, or in fact, quite quaint about actual physical photo albums. She talks about the elegiac quality of photos and photos being a memento mori, which I think is a little bit different from being an aide to memory. You know, so you look back through a photo album and it might trigger a memory of a certain day or even how you were feeling in that moment, but really, it seems designed for pathos. And as she talks about capturing somebody at a moment which is now past or now dead or an earlier version of that person. Right. And I think now what we have is maybe rather than walking around with these image worlds in our head, these facsimiles of the world in our head, as she's suggesting, photographs supply us with. Really, we're walking around with these facsimiles of the world in our phones, and we've exported this external hard drive. We've exported all of our memories to this object as well, so that we don't have to hold onto the memories in our heads, even in the way that Sontag is describing in the essay. You know, we've sort of gone beyond this and all of our function when it comes to recalling something. Like, it could be triggered by seeing photos in the phone. But primarily we're exporting that memory to the phone, and it's containing much vaster quantities of photos than an album could hold. So it does become like memory, like an external hard drive for our memories. 15:17 Wes: Because of that, we sort of interfere with memory. I think part of the thing is memory implies loss, right? Because the thing is no longer around and because the memory of it is going to fade. And because a memory is more than the visual experience, right? There's also the emotions involved. And you're on a family trip and people are annoying you and maybe you're bored or have to go to the bathroom. There's a lot of other stuff outside of the picture of you looking happy in front of the mountain or whatever it is. So there is a kind of manic quality, or what I would call a manic defense quality to photography. Naturally, it's a defense against loss with actual memory. Loss is just a part of it. And that's kind of the way she begins her book, right. Talking about how photography redefines our relationship to the real world in these very. In terms of acquisition, we have the photographs on our external hard drive, on our phone. It's like appropriation, the idea that for some societies, being photographed might steal one's soul. Well, I kind of think we act as if we're sucking the soul of the world into the phone or into the camera to keep it with us. And then, of course, we can manipulate. I mean, she talks about blowing up and retouching photographs, you know, and we don't even. We don't even do that anymore, but we can put them into digital folders or put them on social media and do all sorts of other virtual types of manipulation with them. And since the time when she wrote this essay, that the ability to share these photographs, that was enhanced incredibly by social media and Facebook and things like that. And it used to be fun. Facebook used to be fun. I don't know if people remember that now. It's just something that I. And most people I know just avoid unless they have to do something on it for some reason. And why is that? I don't know exactly beyond politics or beyond envy of seeing people live their shiny lives on Facebook with the vacations. I don't know what it is, but it became. Something went sour with that. And part of it, I guess, is just the getting sucked into this activity of putting one's life on blast or advertising your life to other people and trying to get them to see you and them trying to get you to see them. I don't know what it is, but anyway, I kind of digress there. Really what I was trying to get at was the manic quality of this and the idea that there's some kind of power and control and acquisition in taking photos. And even the fact that you can kind of make time stand still, as she points out. You just get a slice of time. There's an element of incredible power in 18:21 Erin: all that, I guess, to go into the personal for a second. I sometimes forget to take photographs and wish that I had taken them. But also, I think I sometimes don't take. Want to get out the phone and start taking photographs, because for me, I've always been dissatisfied by the photos that I take because I feel as though they never really capture what I'm seeing, right. Like, I guess I'm just not a good enough photographer where I feel as though anytime I capture something and then I look at it in the phone, I'm like, oh, well, that's not really what it. 18:52 Wes: You gotta put it in portrait. Portrait mode. 18:54 Erin: Gotta put it. I know you taught me that, 18:58 Wes: but I know exactly what you're talking about. Yeah, I know. I, That's. And that's part of my reluctance. I just know it looks so plain in the photograph, but it's so amazing, you know? 19:08 Erin: Exactly, exactly. And so then what I do is I take 45 photos of the exact same thing at slightly different tilts and then I. 19:17 Wes: You're playing paying for the cloud storage now. 19:19 Erin: Exactly. Well, no. And so then I. Well, so I have, I guess, many, many thousands fewer images than all of my friends, I think. Because then what I do is I, I don't want to take the photos because then I have to go in and choose which of the 45 I'm going to save for posterity. And I'm clicking back and forth between the one image and then the next image one inch to the left and the next image one inch to the left of that, you know, and, and so I, I think part of it is I don't take the photo because I don't want to put myself through that because I then have to edit everything and get down to the one image because I'm going, okay, I can't have 45 images of the same thing. I just have to choose. And usually it's a very arbitrary. And just say, okay, fine, this one, you know, but none of them satisfies me. None of them ever seems to me a good encapsulation of the moment. It doesn't capture the beauty, it doesn't capture the whatever. And that's simply because, you know, as she points out in the essay, it's just a slice. It's just, you know, the frame. What's being cut out really severely limits what the photograph can capture. And what. I mean, they're really. Photos are really unrealistic. It's stupid to maybe to point out something so obvious, but they're so limited and they're so unrealistic. Not only are they playing with scale as she talks about, but they're cutting out so much of what was live and real and, you know, obviously 3D and in the round about the experience that I think of them as being. I mean, I'm so grateful to have the certain photos that I do of people and obviously having Baby photos of people or photos of loved ones who are. Who are now no longer with us is. You know, it seems like photography is an incredible gift, but also I've always had this really frustrated relationship to it, probably because I'm just not a very good photographer. And they seem like strangely bad approximations of the world that they're purporting to capture. Exactly. You know, I often think that light in a painting is a much, much better illustration of light. 21:23 Wes: Yeah. They can convey the power of the scene more accurately, in a sense, bring some of the emotion. I mean, a good photograph can do some of that. But. Yeah, in general, with our snapshots, it's not going to happen as well. Yeah. I mean. Yeah. So she points to this. Most photography has nothing to do with art, and it does serve this function, according to the Sontag, of memorializing family life, for instance, including weddings. It's a very important part of big events and tourism, as we've talked about. And I think the thing that she highlights is that as the society becomes more atomized and there's more industrialization and people can travel more, this becomes a kind of desperate way to deal with that fact as community fades, as communal ties are less strong, and you begin replacing that with this kind of ritual of. Of picture taking for families. But it's not going to replace the ties that are being lost. 22:24 Erin: Yeah. That idea that photos are a kind of prosthesis of the larger family that's been lost in the reduction to the nuclear family that oftentimes all we have of those extended relations are photographs of those family members rather than those people living in the house. Say, if we were in a two or three family home or something like that. 22:46 Wes: I love this idea, too, that on vacation we might feel guilty about not being at work. Right. It gives us something to do. We have a job now. We're a photographer while we're on vacation. 22:59 Erin: Right. 23:00 Wes: But it's a way of, you know, in general of, you know, she says, refusing experience or damping down experience by using the camera, putting the camera between yourself and the experience to deal with the anxiety of that. But that includes the guilt. So she says a way of certifying experience, taking photographs is also a way of refusing it. By limiting experience to a search for the photogenic. By converting experience into an image, a super souvenir assuages general feelings of disorientation that are likely to be exacerbated by travel. Most tourists feel compelled to put the camera between themselves and whatever is remarkable that they encounter this Gives shapes to experience, stop, take a photograph and move on. The method especially appeals to people handicapped by a ruthless work ethic. Germans, Japanese and Americans. Using a camera appeases the anxiety which the work driven feel about not working. When they're on vacation and supposed to be having fun, they have something to do that is like a friendly imitation of work. They can take pictures. I think that's very, very true. 24:03 Erin: It is. 24:04 Wes: It's hard just to stop and experience, you know, just the pause. 24:08 Erin: Yeah. I think of my grandfather when I read that, who. His photos are all over this. I'm in my grandmother's house right now. His photos are all over the walls of the house from all their many, many travels all over the world. And he was someone who retired very young, but he had this. He was never fully resting. You know, he was retired. But there was always something to do. You know, there was always work in the garden to do. There was always cooking and shopping to do and things to fix. You know, he had had his workbench downstairs and would always. I never knew what he was doing, but he was always hammering at something or putting things together. And. And so I think that that must have been, you know, the picture taking must have been a kind of version of this. You know, he's on vacation, but he still has a job to do. And there are actually pictures of him with multiple cameras around his neck for different. You know, he would have like the video camera and the different lenses and was really into that and got into that actually, when he was in the army. So I also have all of these photos of his several albums of Munich in 1945 and different buildings, which. I've always wanted to go to Germany and see if I could find the buildings that he was in. And which I have, you know, so detailed are the records that he took pictures, for instance, of street signs so you could locate the exact corner, you know, that the building was on. 25:25 Wes: Wow. 25:26 Erin: Yeah. It strikes me now is that he might have been sort of an anxious person, since a lot of this is also supposedly a defense against anxiety, which I think is. Which I think is right, too. I made a list of, across the two essays of the three sets of moral relationships and how Sontag characterizes them. The relationship between the photographer and the camera is one moral relationship that she describes which has many different characteristics. Each of these does the relationship between the photographer and the thing photograph the subject and then the relationship between people and the photographic images that they view. So the viewer and the image, all of the things that we've talked about so far, primarily that between photographer and camera. So as you described, the appearance of participation without participation, the refusal of experience, putting the camera between the self and the event to soothe, as a defense against anxiety, to relieve disorientation, the work like activity. And then we get into a couple of things that have much deeper moral implications. So the camera as a kind of a gun, as something automated, requiring no skill or expert knowledge, as she points out. And then also the camera as a passport that annihilates moral boundaries and social inhibitions. And some of this shades into the relationship between the photographer and the photographed. But the idea that one is freed from responsibility towards those things or people or events which are photographed, that that implies a certain lack of intervention and maybe even this implicit approbation. You're saying when you take a photograph of something that you want it to keep going, which I thought was one of the most interesting elements, that. That it's encouraging something to keep happening in an implicit way. But then also there's this distance that's required. If you're going to take a photo of something, you need to be at least a little bit distant from it in order to capture it. Right. You can't be in the middle of the action. You can't be participating in something fully if you're taking a photograph of it. And you need a little bit of physical distance in order to capture something with a lens. That dichotomy is something we might dig into a little bit more. 27:30 Wes: Yeah. She makes this transition in the essay from the right. The idea that photography seems like an act of non intervention. But if you think about what's happening in say, war photography, to maintain one's position as a photojournalist, one can't get involved. I assume a war photographer would try to save someone's life if they're bleeding out in front of them. But they're certainly not picking up a gun to get involved in the fight. So she makes the point that it is. So it is still a form of participation in the sense it's a complicity with whatever makes something interesting. I think that's what you're getting at with you sort of encouraging something to keep happening by treating it as interesting. Yeah. And then I like this metaphor of the gun because there's something. I mean, she compares it to. She says that there's something perverse about picture taking. Right. And quotes Diane Arbus is saying it's a naughty thing to do, so it can intrude, it can obviously be exploitative and the fact that they're so automated increases this problem. And I was thinking, as you talked about your grandfather, there's a time when actually there's some skill and effort actually still involved. I mean, she thinks what's going on is automated, but the fact that we can just take out our phones and do it, and the phone does practically everything for you, including all these effects, and cheapens it in a way. There's an important relationship between the automation of the machine that you're using and then the target. So with a gun, right, you know, machine gun life becomes even cheaper by virtue of the fact that it's so easy to expel bullets and take out so many people at once. And likewise, people seem more possessable to the extent that you can easily take pictures of them. Right. In a way, it changes our relationship to others. She talks about it as becoming a way of turning them symbolically into objects that we possess. She says to photograph people is to violate them by seeing them as they never see themselves, by having knowledge of them they can never have. It turns people into objects that can be symbolically possessed, just as the camera is. A sublimation of the gun to photograph someone is a sublimated murder, a soft murder, appropriate to sad, frightened time. Really great. 30:00 Erin: Yeah. Well, insofar as you're suggesting, and I think really accurately so that the iPhone is now more like the machine gun, I'm wondering if this idea of the photo seeing people as they never see themselves and therefore this being akin to sublimated murder, as she calls it, if the ubiquity of this kind of murder is therefore making people more impervious, or somehow people are getting acclimated to being murdered in this way. Do you know what I mean? Like people now are taking so many selfies, for instance. I mean, the selfie is. Is one thing we might really talk about this new innovation, which is of course not in the Sontag, but if we've now become akin to self murderers or if we have become impervious to this kind of murder because we're seeing ourselves as an outsider all the time. Right? That's really what that is, right? This idea that we're in a sense trapped inside our own bodies, which when I think about it too hard or for too long, I start to feel very claustrophobic that we're never going to see ourselves except through some apparatus outside of us, a mirror or reflection in some other surface or a photo. Therefore, people walking around have an access to us just through their own vision of us, which we can never have of ourselves. And the photograph, as you're saying, and as Sontag says, possesses us in that way so that the photographer bags us like they would game or something like that. But now that we could flip it around, now that we have these phones that have that function where we can view ourselves through that lens pretty regularly, and now that people take, especially like teenagers take photographs of themselves all day long. Yeah. Is that equivalent to a kind of suicide? Is that where Sontag would go with the iPhone? Or would she simply say that people have now become impervious to this kind of murder? Or both? I don't know. You know, these teens, suddenly everyone knows what their best angles are, how to perfectly capture, you know what I mean? Like, they're very savvy about this. 32:09 Wes: Yeah, you got to do. You got to do the duck. The duck lips, apparently. I don't know why people think that helps. 32:16 Erin: It used to take an entire studio system of experts in different areas of, you know, image consulting and curation to help movie stars become the best versions of themselves. And even those movie stars often were not self aware enough to know what was being captured. And now it seems everyone is their own image consultant. And this kind of knowledge is very, very opaque to me. So it's, it's shocking that somebody could apparently successfully do this. To know themselves so well from the outside and to get that kind of distance from the self. It's very eerie to me. 32:51 Wes: Yeah. I'm thinking about this idea that when she says it turns people into objects that can be symbolically possessed and that's a kind of sublimated murder, that people are very comfortable with doing this with themselves. Right. Symbolically possessing themselves with these selfies and the sense in which that is a kind of murder. And of course, anything that puts us into the realm of the image and the imaginary, I think it subtracts from life, you know, in ways that we've. We've talked about before because it takes us outside of the immediate experience, but it is also just concerned with one aspect of the experience, which is the visual. So we're not even worried in that moment, you know, as we haven't. We're like. It's as if we have an image consultant. But we're not worried about our character, for instance. We're just worried about how we look in a particular moment in time in an image. And so we're imagining the other. We're more strongly oriented to the other on a specific axis of the. Involving the image. Right. So there's a lot of Ways to be caught up in how others see us or in the field of recognition that others supply. But how one looks, of course, is just a very, very thin part of that. And to be oriented towards that, I think, is part of this murder and involved with cameras. 34:15 Erin: Oh, I see, yeah. So you're reducing the self, or you're killing off several layers of self in fantasy. 34:23 Wes: Right, yeah. There's benefits to that, because if the image is just a signifier for all the rest of it, well, that's a very controllable thing in the moment. You just have to be able to pose correctly, and then it's not actually about who you are or even how you were feeling at that particular moment. Why not? If you're feeling sad at the tourist site, why not take a picture of yourself looking sad and remember that actual feeling? That's the part of the memory that is apt to get erased by the attempt at being an image consultant to oneself. But she does talk about how the gun replacement thing, and she talks about this with safaris. Right. It's an interesting example. So guns have metamorphosed into cameras in this earnest comedy, the ecology safari, because nature has ceased to be what it has always been, what people needed protection from. Now nature tamed, endangered mortal needs to be protected from people. When we are afraid, we shoot, but when we are nostalgic, we take pictures. And so this is a segue into the idea that photography is an instrument of nostalgia. There's a touch of pathos. You can do it even with a grotesque subject. There's something that photography does to dignify the subject and participate in people's mortality, because the subject is going to pass away. So whatever you've preserved. So this runs cross current, I think, to what she's been saying, which is that this preserving quality to photographs highlights, by contrast, the mortality and temporality and temporariness of the objects or subjects that it's recording. My photos are going to live forever in the cloud, but not me. It's not fair. 36:18 Erin: Right, right. Well, once we can upload your consciousness to the cloud, then it'll all be shortly. 36:24 Wes: Soon. 36:24 Erin: Yeah. Then you'll be a collection of photos with a curating consciousness, which. Which is, I think, a little bit of what she's getting at here, but I don't want to get ahead of myself, but the idea that something about the preservation with the camera highlights the temporariness of the thing being photographed, as you put it. This is where things get kind of interestingly tricky. I'm pulling partly from The Arbus essay. This idea of the camera as a passport that annihilates moral boundaries and social inhibitions. I think Sontag would argue that we need to know what we're taking in a photograph, say of a panda, that pandas are endangered, for that photograph to have some kind of moral purchase. Right. She's going to describe the narrativizing or the contextualizing need for photographs to really explain anything or to have any kind 37:20 Wes: of weight, ethical or political effect. 37:23 Erin: Right, right. It's as though the default mode of the camera is one which is anti moral. And to be put to a moral use. Photos need historical context and an overriding narrative for which they would then come in as secondary items to just furnish evidence toward an already established moral framework or position. So when we have a camera and we're taking photos of something like say we are war photographers and we're photographing people dying in front of us, something about having a camera in that moment, she would argue, justifies that position. You know, it's okay for us to be there watching people die in front of us because we're recording it. So I think this is what she talks about with the camera being a passport. And there's no moral boundary. You know, the moral boundary that might be there that might make us say, turn away from that moment is evaporated because we're a war photographer and that's what we're there to do is photograph people dying, say. So it seems almost anti moral or outside of morality entirely to be walking around with a camera. Or it may even be pro immorality. Like if we're, if we're, if we're taking a photograph of someone doing something which we might deem immoral. She says that the relationship of the person with the camera to the thing that they are photographing is one of encouragement. So the person might even be encouraged to keep going because they see that they're being photographed. And if we're going to contrast that with this idea of the preservation of nature or something which has maybe a moral weight attached to it, or a photograph which we want to serve a moral end, like showing a part of the Amazon rainforest which has been cut down, you know, taking pictures of the stumps of trees to serve a moral point, we would need a larger apparatus of narrative to even understand why that photo might be moral. I mean, maybe I'm arguing against myself because when I see that, I might be sad just seeing trees cut down. But I think Sontag would argue that one would need to have it explained to them that the Amazon is being cut down because people are, you know, whatever, building McDonald's and need. Need trees cut down in the Amazon to furnish the wood to build those McDonald's. And this is a bad thing, and here's evidence of it. And then you see the image of the Amazon cut down and you're filled with moral indignation at this image. In other words, there's a default amoral or immoral position that the camera typically has. And when put toward some kind of end, which is supposed to be propagandistic or moralistic in a sort of positive way, it needs a lot of extra help to get somebody there, to get them to a moral position, which we would consider to be on the plus side of that equation. 40:23 Wes: Yeah, you're getting at the point that she makes about the use of photographs in service of conscience and in service of political and moral feeling. And she makes this interesting point that it's different for conscience than it is for desire. So in a way, desire is ahistorical. You just need certain archetypes, like if you want to induce sexual lust, you just. There's pictures of bodies. But if you want to arouse moral feelings and historical context is very important, if you want to awaken conscience, you need a given historical situation, and the context around that has to be clear. So she brings up, for instance, the example of Civil War battlefield photographs. Not dampening enthusiasm for the war, for instance. You're not going to just produce the feeling of revulsion for the war with a photograph. There's not already the seed of that revulsion already there. Or for instance, photographs cannot create a moral position, but they can reinforce one and help build up a nascent one. And so she brings up, of course, that famous picture of the Vietnamese child who's just been napalmed, that iconic picture. And that did a lot right to increase revulsion against the Vietnam War. But by contrast, the Korean. Well, actually, I think the point she makes about the Korean War was that there was no photographic record or not much. And there wasn't because the ideology did not allow that right. There was no space for that because of a pre existing ideology. So if we want to produce photographic evidence, we're doing that in the context of an ideology or in the context of a naming of an event or the context of an existing political consciousness. We're not just going to invent a political consciousness whole cloth by use of photographs. And then she goes on to talk about her own personal experience seeing Holocaust photographs and how important that was to her and life changing. I mean, that was for me, actually, as a kid too. She says it divided her life into two parts and I kind of felt the same way. But the overall point, despite that example, is that it doesn't. Right. These photographs aren't necessarily going to strengthen conscience. They can also corrupt it, anesthetize it. Because through such photographs we get this repeated exposure, we get inured, we get used to atrocities and seeing things that might have once have shocked us. The shock kind of fades. So it's really a double edged sword. She says it can deaden the conscience as much as arouse it. 43:11 Erin: She talks about the omnipresence of photographs having an incalculable effect on our ethical sensibility, how we can be inured to those images. And we'll wrap up here, but in the next part, maybe we can begin by talking about what she might be implying about an ethical comportment towards photographs. Like she calls photographs themselves an ethics of seeing. They're furnishing an ethics of seeing. And I'm wondering if she is implicitly pushing back against that or showing us maybe some ways to think about how we might push back against the perhaps too transgressive mode of seeing which photographs are furnishing us with. So maybe we can dive into that at the beginning of part two. All right, thanks, Wes. 43:56 Wes: Thank you.

    • Transcript
  • March 9 · 33 min

    The Music of Longing in “Amadeus” (1984) – Part 2

    Are Mozart’s gifts a glitch in divine accounting? Or are his flaws attendant on or even the result of his genius? And how can we account for the glitch in Salieri’s design, which permits longing to go unanswered by talent? Wes & Erin continue their discussion of the 1984 film “Amadeus,” directed by Milos Forman. Upcoming Episodes: Susan Sontag’s On Photography; Withnail & I; Waiting for Godot Pre-order Erin’s forthcoming book “Avail” here: http://subtextpodcast.com/avail For bonus content, become a paid subscriber at Patreon or directly on the Apple Podcasts app. Patreon subscribers also get early access to ad-free regular episodes. Also from Wes: Curtain Times, a calendar of Boston theatre, classical, talks and readings. Follow: Twitter | Facebook | Website Transcript 0:12 Erin: Okay. Welcome to part two of our discussion of Amadeus. We just got done. Sort of are still talking about Mozart's relationship to the divine and whether or not he might be something like a Christ figure. And I just wanted to talk about Salieri's own relationship with his father. We hear that his father is a man of commerce. And so Salieri, he seems to relate to God in this way, in this economic system kind of way where every prayer should be immediately rewarded and the hard work of self denial should result in God's favor. That, you know, he's making these sort of long term investments in asceticism and self denial that should see a return through the genius that God will give him and the ability to sing to him. And so some of that seems to be a result of his relationship with his father, who is not at all interested in music. And Salieri seems to think, and even asks the priest, who we haven't even mentioned is his interlocutor through the entire film, because the whole thing is one long flashback told from Salieri's perspective. You know, wouldn't you have thought this was a sign that this miracle had happened? And the miracle, of course, is his father choking on something, probably a meatball and dropping dead. And that frees Salieri up to pursue his musical career, which his father had previously denied. So I don't know. I just. I don't know that there's. There's much to be said about this that we haven't already said. But I'm so interested in this paternal relationship with Salieri and God, Salieri and his father, of the two being so diametrically opposed to each other in one way. Well, in terms of Salieri's relationship to them, right. Like he so doesn't care for his father that he thinks of killing him off as this huge convenience. And yet he's so in love with God and with wanting to sing to God that he gives up his whole life for his love of that paternal figure. Of course, it's also about his own narcissism and self glorification and looking like a really big and important person. But I don't know, I find it really knotty and difficult to untie that twin strand of these two father figures in his life. 2:40 Wes: The two father figures being his father and the. 2:43 Erin: And God. 2:44 Wes: And God. Okay. 2:45 Erin: Yeah. 2:45 Wes: Yeah. It's interesting, he says about his father. How could I tell him what music meant to me? That's when, you know, he tells his father he wishes he could be like Mozart. And the father says, why? Do you want to be a trained monkey? You'd like me to drag you around doing tricks like a circus freak? Sam, I have a homicidal feeling. How could I tell him what music meant to me? And, yeah, music is everything. Music is a religious experience for him. It's his way of connecting to God. And so it means more than commerce or a practical profession. And the miracle is that. Yeah, the first miracle is that his father dies. And we get no sense that he's sad about his father's death or that he has any sort of familial feeling, you know, typical feeling towards his. Towards his father, any love. And it's interesting he uses that word, that little transition, you know, where it's. Do you know what happened? A miracle that occurs twice in the film. The second time is when Joseph yawns. Emperor Joseph yawns, so he says. And then. And then. Do you know what happened? A miracle. With that yawn, I saw my defeat turn into victory. Mozart was lucky the emperor yawned only once. And before that, he's really getting into the music. It's the Marriage of Figaro. So he says. The restored third act was bold, brilliant. The fourth was astounding. I saw a woman disguised in her maid's clothes, hear her husband speak the first tender words he has offered her in years simply because he thinks she is someone else. There's another really great song that. That is premised on this idea. You know the song where someone puts out a classified ad to find love and it turns then the person who responds to it is his wife. 4:45 Erin: Oh, you mean if you're into peanuts in pina coladas 4:51 Wes: getting caught in the rain. Yeah. So, anyway, I don't know which one is better. Marriage of Figaro or that one. But anyway. 4:59 Erin: So, yeah, it's hard to talk about. Okay. 5:01 Wes: So offered. We hear her husband speak the first tender words he has offered her in years simply because he thinks she is someone else. I heard the music of true forgiveness filling the theater conferring on all who sat there perfect absolution. God was singing through this little man to all the world, unstoppable. Making my defeat more bitter with every passing bar. There's this really interesting juxtaposition in Salieri between his ability to appreciate the music and to feel almost gratitude towards it. To have this very, very authentic, appreciative relationship to Mozart's music and yet to have crippling envy at the same time. And you see it at various points in the film where Mozart asks him, what'd you think of that? And he responds honestly, like, it's amazing. He doesn't hide that. He doesn't try to conceal that. And as part of his revenge plan against Mozart, he can't help himself. He can't help but completely appreciate and inhabit the music and even see its kind of divine nature. Right? One observation was that it contains longing. This other observation is that it contains forgiveness another sort of divine element. He makes the immediate switch from that to his envy and desire for revenge. And the miracle, of course, it's not a religious miracle. The religious miracle in this is replaced by the miracle that serves envy or malice or the eradication of whatever gets in his way. Whatever gets in the way of his plan to make music his life. In the first case, it was his father, and now it's Mozart. His father was the impediment. Mozart is the impediment. And the miracle is the removal of that impediment. The miracle is an expression of divine authority, right? Divine power. Something that shows up in the world and breaks the rules of the laws of nature or something like that, and so forth and therefore is illustrative of God's power. The miracle is just some chance circumstance that gets rid of an obstacle. So I thought you were talking about Father. It's not like Mozart is a father figure to him exactly except insofar as he worships him as an artist and a musician. But they do certainly stand in parallel here in being these impediments to his success which he has. To which she has to remove. Very Oedipal, as they would say in the psychoanalytic community. 7:49 Erin: Right. 7:50 Wes: Kill. Kill the father. 7:51 Erin: Right. Yeah. Well, that's a really interesting idea, that. It's almost as if Salieri is so unbothered by his own father's death because God is his. It's like a case of secret parentage, right? God is his real father because he has this extra hereditary gift that doesn't seem to really come from his father. Right. It's almost this sort of switched at birth type of thing or. And, of course, Salieri's whole identity. Well, switched at birth is maybe right, because it's as if Salieri's whole identity is about actually being this secret, divine, anointed, special boy, right. Who likes himself because everybody likes him. He's following what he thinks is this divinely appointed mission. And then maybe the entrance of Mozart. I like this idea that he's almost kind of like a father figure, but maybe it's also this. He was really the one who was. You know, Salieri maybe really was his father's son all along. And it was like Mozart again, the sibling thing. Like, you know, oh, suddenly you have this. You find out God had a second family or something like that. And those kids all, you know, like, we're these super high achievers. And you previously at the very. Thinking of yourself as being at the very end of the bell curve, you know, suddenly look to your left and discover that there's a whole lot more empty space. And then that other kid from that other family way into it. 9:32 Wes: The people who this has happened to kind of. But, yeah. 9:35 Erin: Oh, gosh. 9:36 Wes: Well, not finding out they have a second family, but when the parent moves on and has another family with a different, you know, with a stepmother, and then that new family is all shiny and pretty and highly accomplished, and the one that the father left is. Is not. 9:53 Erin: Of course. Of course. Right, well. And that. That would stand to reason, especially if the first family was a. Was sort of the means by which the father established himself. Right, right. Yeah. And then. Then he gets to sort of start over with a fresher. A person he feels he deserved. I just rewatched First Wives Club, so the. 10:12 Wes: I don't think I've seen it. 10:13 Erin: Oh, my gosh. And it's like, it's good. It's one of those movies that I just. I discovered that my best friend had never seen it. And I was like, how do you even know anything about me if you've never seen this movie? It's so, so important to me. 10:27 Wes: This is from 1996. Okay. 10:29 Erin: Yeah. If you look at the cast list, you understand Keaton. 10:33 Wes: Yeah. Now I. Yeah, I'm looking at. Yeah, it makes sense. 10:37 Erin: It's kind of like the ultimate boomer movie. But I Love it so much. It has nothing to do with anything. I'm so sorry. Maybe just to switch gears a little bit. There's also a lot, I think, being said here about criticism. I mean, really, Salieri's gift is this gift of appreciation. It is like a divine appreciation that nobody else has because they're too stupid to get it. Like, Salieri is just smart enough. I mean, this is the torture, right? He's just smart enough to really get the divinity of Mozart's talent but not smart enough to produce it himself. And that's kind of the. It's kind of the critical sweet spot. You know, if Salieri wanted to become a critic, a music critic I don't know if they had those in Vienna or. 11:20 Wes: He could have been a producer, you 11:21 Erin: know, or a producer. Exactly. Yeah. Yeah. 11:24 Wes: I'm gonna make you a star. That would have been the positive way to deal with the situation. 11:31 Erin: Right, right. And that, too, I think, you know, the idea of criticism, I mean, this is a thorny one too, but there's a parental kind of relationship which criticism or the role of the critic maybe reveals. Or there's a sort of similar mechanism, the role that he ends up playing with the Requiem to kind of bring out what he's not, really bringing out the best in Mozart. Mozart doesn't really need him to produce the Requiem. He doesn't. Certainly doesn't need him to produce anything of greatness. But that semi collaboration that happens at the end is a really interesting moment. But there's. There's something where the first thing I thought of, and I thought the first thing that you would. You would think of in that scene is there's something vampiric, of course, about Salieri. He really is kind of a vampire figure. And I'm sure our listeners were expecting us to say this seeing as we've talked about that vampiric mechanism of envy in other episodes. But he does seem to be sucking the life out of Mozart. And so the film doesn't seem to be very appreciative, shall we say, of the role of criticism, on the one hand. But on the other, there does seem to be this sort of lost or forgotten trajectory or abandoned, maybe, trajectory that Salieri might have had of being the person who, of course, it would just be within the court of being the champion of Mozart. The one who. And this is an important critical function, not just to criticize. Right. But to bring greatness to other people's attention. And to say, this is worth holding up, this is important. 13:07 Wes: It's an interesting Paradox. In the end. Because he wants him to produce the Requiem so he can pass it off as his own. And so he needs to keep Mozart alive long enough to do that. But he's also somehow aware that he's using this to kill Mozart. Right. Which. It's an odd way to go about killing someone. 13:29 Erin: It is, Right. 13:30 Wes: Giving them. I'm gonna psychologically torture you to death. How about that? By pretending to be your dead father and asking for this commission. Right. He's not doing anything else I. I don't know about. Right. He's not poisoning. 13:45 Erin: No. And this is. Yeah, this gets back to my opening question. Like, what is he doing here? Is he killing him? Is what is really happening? 13:54 Wes: Oh, was that your. Was that what you meant by that? 13:57 Erin: A little bit. But also other things. Sorry, it's a complicated question and there are a lot of different elements to it, but I think. 14:04 Wes: Yeah, I mean, that's a very good point. He thinks he's killed him at the end of the film. But was that ever. Does he state. We don't. In the flashbacks, we don't really see him state that intention, do we? He wants to ruin him, but we don't. Yeah. Right. We don't ever see. Or do we. Do we say that he's right. We see the old Salieri say he wanted to kill him. But do we ever see the young Salieri say that? That's the question. 14:31 Erin: I don't think so. 14:33 Wes: Yeah. I don't remember him saying that. He wants to ruin him. He wants to get an opera passed off as his own. 14:39 Erin: The Mass passed off as his own. Yeah. And then he'll have this great joke. He does say. There is the implication somehow that Mozart will be dead and so he won't be found out. 14:50 Wes: Okay. 14:50 Erin: So that is part of it. I'm trying to find the exact moment. 14:55 Wes: So much of this is in the narrative. And the voiceover of old Salieri that does create the opportunity to wonder what's actually going on. Anyway, obviously he has ill intent and he cares about ruining Mozart. Or he doesn't. He certainly doesn't care about preserving Mozart's life except to the extent that it'll help him. 15:15 Erin: Yeah, here's the. Here's the Finish the opera. 15:18 Wes: But yeah. 15:18 Erin: The old Salieri voiceover. My plan was so simple that it terrified me. First I must get the death mass and then I must achieve his death. Achieve his death is actually a really great verb. His funeral. Imagine it. The cathedral, all Vienna sitting there. His coffin. Mozart's little coffin in the Middle. And then in that silence, music. A divine music bursts out over them all. A great Mass of death. Requiem Mass for Wolfgang Mozart. Composed by his devoted friend, Antonio Salieri. And this is where he almost does that. Hannibal Lecter, Salieri, like, you know, like he's sucking the life out of him. What sublimity. What depth. What passion in the music. Salieri has been touched. Touched by God at last. And God forced to listen. Powerless to stop it. I, for once, in the end, laughing at him. The only thing that worried me was the actual killing. How does one do that? How does one kill a man? It's one thing to dream about it. Very different when you. When you have to do it with your own hands. And so that sort of left open. I mean, this is total insanity. This is really why we, I guess, see him in the insane asylum because he otherwise seems sane. But the idea that he's pulling one over on God, like, you know, it's really funny. 16:34 Wes: But it does make it seem like killing would be a separate step. And then maybe he'd never had to do that just because Mozart did the job of dying beforehand. 16:46 Erin: Yeah, maybe. Something about embodying the father. Right. And hounding him. 16:50 Wes: Yeah, that's the impression I got, that the. That was. But it's an odd way to try to kill someone. I mean, so that does this. If we wanted evidence of a unreliable narrator in that sense, then that would be it. 17:04 Erin: Right. 17:04 Wes: He's recasting this whole project as. You know, it's not just, I'm gonna get the Requiem for myself but it's coming. And not just that I'm gonna ruin Mozart or interfere with his fortunes, but that I'm gonna. That I killed him as well. 17:21 Erin: Well. And in the end, he's the one who feels killed, in fact, because old Salieri tells the priest, he says, you're a merciful God. He destroyed his own beloved rather than let a mediocrity share in the smallest part of his glory. He killed Mozart. And kept me alive to torture. 32 years of torture of slowly watching myself become extinct. My music growing fainter. All the time fainter till no one plays it at all. So it's as if Mozart actually has sucked the life out of him. You know, there's a sort of reverse vampirism going on in that. Mozart getting the last laugh. But then Mozart outliving him and Salieri becoming sort of undead. 17:59 Wes: He does have that quality. 18:01 Erin: Yeah. Yeah. 18:02 Wes: Well, we are talking about the vampiric quality. 18:05 Erin: Yeah, definitely. 18:06 Wes: In a way. 18:07 Erin: Yeah. 18:07 Wes: I see the Film, in a way, is about mediocrity. And that's. You know, it's a great scene at the end where he's. He's being wheeled out and mediocrities. I absolve you. As if he's the. As if he's the priest now. Priest of the high priest of mediocrity. The torture of being mediocre. Maybe almost being a genius, but not quite having it. How do you live with that? 18:34 Erin: That's the most compelling line in the film for me. Why did God give me the longing if he wasn't going to fulfill it? Salieri has some really twisted ideas about his relationship with God in which he's been almost, if you like, set up by God in a way. I mean, part of it is his own structure of thinking, but he's also been set up to believe that his relationship with God is one of wish fulfillment. But granted, he has a lot of really parsimonious, really false, really twisted ideas of who God is and what our relationship should be to the divine and magical thinking and narcissism and all this other stuff. But that. That's the one really unanswerable question I think, that. That he asks in the film is why do I have the longing? And with that, I think, implicated in that is the just enough talent to know where you aren't. And that, I think, is a really torturous thing about being human. I think we all understand this on. On a certain level. Like on. On a level that maybe isn't still close to Salieri's. 19:48 Wes: But we didn't write 40. 40 operas. 19:51 Erin: Right, right, right. Or really understand and study and give up so much. 19:58 Wes: Right, but that's the. In a way, that's the answer to the why be given this longing if he's not going to be able to fulfill it? And the answer, in a way, is that he wants it too much. And Mozart is sort of the poster boy for not wanting it too much. And the longing goes into the art object and into what he creates, rather than stifling the act of creation itself. 20:21 Erin: Well, yes, and as I've already suggested, I think there's very little in Salieri's when he's not talking about Mozart and the beauty of Mozart's music. There's very little in Salieri's speeches talking about his own relationship to music that isn't actually just about status and wanting to be. Wanting to be the greatest. Wanting to get all the gold stars and be the smartest boy in school. And he's at the top of the heap and everybody likes him and all his teachers love him. And then of course, this exchange student comes in who's doing high level calculus in his head in the third grade and just ruining his life. Right. So in a way, it's. He deserves it, but that, you know, I wanted to just talk about that a bit and that relationship to the other members of the court and the fact that Salieri, when he's asked whether the opera that they're commissioning, for instance, should be in German or Italian, Salieri won't offer an opinion. He doesn't. When solicited for these types of musical opinions, he offers a political answer designed to keep him in with everybody else. So he's really good at being an operator. He's really good at keeping his post and being in this really cozy and obviously extremely wealthy position. He wants everybody to love him and to think that he's great and that he's this beloved son of God. And he has this obviously tremendous admiration for Mozart, but for him, the relationship with music seems really tied up in politics. And then we see Mozart's own relationship to politics on scales both big and small, and how inept he really is at controlling himself to get along in order to make any money. Like he has no understanding of how to deal with people. And he's also not interested in the political in his work, which is a point made when they talk about the Marriage of Figaro being banned, which is kind of an interesting scene we could go to. 22:11 Wes: Sure. 22:12 Erin: The emperor confronts him about how the Marriage of Figaro shouldn't be staged. It stirs up hatred between the classes, I think the emperor says. And Mozart says, well, I hate politics. You know, this isn't about politics. And then he goes into just the structure of this one musical piece that he really loves and where he keeps adding more and more people into the harmony and ultimately says that he sustains this for 20 minutes of continuous music. And he says, in a play, if more than one person speaks at once, it's just noise. But with opera, with music, you can have 20 individuals all talking at the same time. And it's not noise, it's perfect harmony. 22:52 Wes: Yeah. 22:53 Erin: So I love this idea. Like the idea that music is about harmony, not political strife, not about separating people. But of course, Joseph is talking about his sister Antoinette and how things are going really badly for her. So there's also something to be said for not inciting any more political strife than what he wants to deal with. 23:14 Wes: Get my sister killed. 23:15 Erin: Right, right. Salieri is Writing operas with the themes that the academy approves in air quotes. Academy approves, you know, these mythological subjects which are extra historical, which don't really get into the weeds. And Mozart is about the personal and the ignoring kind of the political in a way, or being oblivious to it. 23:38 Wes: Yeah. Joseph pivots from the whole politics objection to the idea that this is rubbish or vulgar. 23:47 Erin: Right. 23:47 Wes: He says, Mozart, music is not the issue here. This is in response to the whole 20 individuals in harmony. Music is not the issue here. No one doubts your talent. It's your literary judgment that's in question. Even with the politics taken out, it would still remain a vulgar farce. Why waste your spirit on so much rubbish? Surely you can choose more elevated themes. Right. And this is sort of in line with Salieri's idea that Mozart himself ought to be more elevated as a character since his music is. Right. So the content of Mozart's character and also the content of, you know, the libretto or the play it's based on should reflect the beauty of the music. Mozart says elevated. What does that mean, elevated? I am fed up to the teeth with these elevated things. Old dead legends. Why must we go on forever writing of gods and legends? And Salieri says, because they do. They go on forever. 24:44 Erin: That's van Swieten. 24:45 Wes: That's not Salieri. 24:46 Erin: Yeah, that's right. And Joseph. Yeah, and Joseph also isn't the one who says this. This thing about the vulgar farce. That's van Swieten, too. 24:55 Wes: Okay. Yeah, yeah, that's an error. I created a transcript using AI and I had to get speaker attributions. I had to get it to guess them. And for the most part, it did a good job. But. Yeah, it did. 25:08 Erin: Really. 25:08 Wes: All right. 25:09 Erin: Yeah. 25:09 Wes: So. Yeah. So they represent the eternal in us. Opera is here to ennoble us, Mozart, you and me, just the same as His Majesty. Rejection of the elevated theme in favor of, you know, what's going on in the Marriage of Figaro, which is something more, I guess you put it, it's more personal. 25:25 Erin: Yes, I suppose, because Don Giovanni, the reading of Don Giovanni. Yeah. 25:30 Wes: Oh, is this Don Giovanni? 25:31 Erin: Sorry, no, no, this is Marriage of Figaro. But I just mean in general, in Mozart's work, it seems that he wants or he includes or values a personal connection in the material. You can argue here. Well, he's sort of about farce and he's a farcical character, so perhaps that's the personal element that he connects with. But I'm. The Salieri interpretation of Don Giovanni as being a Very personal statement about his father that. That must be characterizing all of Mozart's work. And there must be something in this that's really speaking to him that he really loves, which he kind of indicates in his description of the scene that he read. So maybe not personal, but just. He likes it. He thinks this is something he can work with. 26:15 Wes: There's more, maybe, about human relationships. Right. It's a very. The way it's portrayed by Salieri. The relationship between the husband and the wife, for instance. Or Mozart himself gives us an account of the way it begins with the measuring for what, the bridal bed. 26:33 Erin: Yes. 26:33 Wes: Yeah. It's more involved in direct human concerns. It's more down to earth than just mythology that turns out to be actually a very good vehicle for the sublime. Right. For longing, unfulfilled longing. And the things that Salieri appreciates. You don't need the elevated themes to get the elevation, let's say. The content doesn't have to reflect that. 26:57 Erin: Yeah. And that seems to me a really good and important element of how the film understands art overall. And just Mozart as an artist. I think it's really smart about what really excites artists and how maybe how Salieri is lacking in ways which he doesn't even appreciate. He's very much coloring within the lines throughout his career. And this doesn't seem to be even a question for him of what he really connects with, what he really wants to be writing about. You know, that doesn't seem to cross his mind at all. Is there something big that we're missing here? I guess we haven't really talked about Stanzi much. 27:35 Wes: Good old Stanzi. 27:37 Erin: She's. She's kind of. Kind of great. Poor woman had to deal with a lot. Oh, I know. The too many notes idea, too. We should really get to. I wanted to talk about that, actually, in relationship to this whole criticism thing. Right. You know, this idea. You could only hear so much at once. 27:57 Wes: Yeah. So it's Orsini Rosenberg who brings this up earlier. Right. So calls his piece tiresome. And let's see. A young man trying to impress beyond his abilities. Too much spice, too many notes. The way Salieri characterizes us later on. This is the premiere of the Abduction, he says, showing off like the greedy songbird that she was, he's talking about is the woman he's into. Ten minutes of ghastly scales. Arpeggios, whizzing up and down like fireworks at a fairground. And then he's worried about the fact that Mozart slept with Her. And then when we get Joseph's reaction, it's good. Of course, now and then. Just now and then it seemed to touch. And then Orsini Rosenberg eventually fills it in, you know, with the whole. Too many notes. Very well put. Too many notes, Mozart. I don't understand. There are just as many notes as I required, neither more nor less. Joseph, my dear fellow, there are in fact only so many notes the ear can hear in an evening. And then he asks Salieri if he's right and then Salieri agrees. So this is one of those times when Salieri is, in fact, not honest. And Mozart said, this is absurd. Later on, Salieri. Yeah. As you pointed out, casts that in terms of the fact that Joseph is easily bored. He doesn't. What is it? The royal attention. 29:23 Erin: Too many demands on the royal ear. 29:26 Wes: Royal ear, yeah. Yeah. So Salieri understands that. Yeah. This is really a matter of their inability to appreciate. Not anything that Mozart's doing wrong. 29:39 Erin: Yeah, the too many notes idea. I suppose it's suggestive of restraint or keeping things simple. You know, Joseph is accused by Salieri of needing. Or maybe the people of Vienna, or the court, rather, of Vienna of needing to have that bang at the end of the song. So everyone knows when to clap. Or maybe that's his friend from the lower. The theater who makes that observation. I can't quite remember now. But, you know, at first we think that this is about them just being stupid, like musically stupid or Mozart being beyond all of them. But then we discover that, in fact, the common people are really into Mozart and there's a sort of, like, class distinction being made, which is odd. So the court of Vienna is more like the. A parallel would be something like the French Academy and then, say, the Impressionists rebelling against that and portraying the common people and being interested in more lowly subjects. You know, ordinary people as subjects rather than classical myth and great heroes of history and things like that. And so something about Mozart's subject and his interest in the common people seems also to be borne out by his appreciation by the common people that we see later in the film. Though I'm not sure I buy that. I mean, he did die poor. But anyway, you know, as we close 31:05 Wes: out here, a little history. What? Yeah. Why did he die poor? Too many notes. 31:13 Erin: I'm not 100% sure. I haven't refreshed my memory on that. I mean, he wasn't. He did feel that Salieri was pushing him out of certain things. That there was a cabal at court of people who were pushing him out of appointments. He was passed over to be the music teacher of that woman. I forget who it was. Joseph's niece. Maybe he was passed over to be her teacher. I don't think there was really a guy with a lot of dogs that he had to resort to, but certainly he was passed over for things as a result of jealousy. I don't know how much of that. I mean, Mozart was in the letters, a really intelligent and sensitive guy. So I doubt that he had the sort of social problems that Mozart seems to have in the film of not being able to get along with people at all and being kind of a jerk. So I'm not quite sure. Well, Wes, it's time to leave genius behind and go back to mediocrity. Is that. Is that what we're all doing? This is one of my favorite movies. I love this movie so much. So I hope you enjoyed it and weren't put off by the length. I know you were. I made you watch the Director's cut. 32:21 Wes: No, I actually. No, no, I enjoyed it. 32:25 Erin: Oh, great. Great. Yeah. The stagings of the opera scenes are also just incredible. I love the Queen of the Night. 32:32 Wes: Yeah, it's really funny. 32:33 Erin: Twyla Tharp staged it, so. All right, thank you. 32:37 Wes: Thank you.

    • Transcript
  • March 3 · 39 min

    The Music of Longing in “Amadeus” (1984)

    If an understanding of music implies a love of structure, perhaps the musician’s relationship to his art mirrors the one he has with authority, both human and divine. Salieri, whose father was a man of commerce, sees God as a kind of bank manager who records prayers and sacrifices as payments on a long-term loan of musical talent. Salieri’s economics work just fine until the arrival of Mozart, who seems to have put up no collateral—he’s ”a giggling, dirty creature” in the words of Salieri—but has received the equivalent of a billion-dollar loan. Are Mozart’s gifts a glitch in divine accounting? Or are his flaws attendant on or even the result of his genius? And how can we account for the glitch in Salieri’s design, which permits longing to go unanswered by talent? Wes & Erin discuss the 1984 film “Amadeus,” directed by Milos Forman. Upcoming Episodes: Susan Sontag’s On Photography; Withnail & I; Waiting for Godot Pre-order Erin’s forthcoming book “Avail” here: http://subtextpodcast.com/avail For bonus content, become a paid subscriber at Patreon or directly on the Apple Podcasts app. Patreon subscribers also get early access to ad-free regular episodes. Also from Wes: Curtain Times, a calendar of Boston theatre, classical, talks and readings. Follow: Twitter | Facebook | Website Transcript 0:11 Erin: If an understanding of music implies a love of structure, perhaps the musician's relationship to his art mirrors the one he has with authority, both human and divine. Salieri, whose father was a man of commerce, sees God as a kind of bank manager who records prayers and sacrifices as payments on a long term loan of musical talent. Salieri's economics work just fine until the arrival of Mozart, who seems to have put up no collateral. He's a giggling dirty creature, in the words of Salieri, but has received the equivalent of a billion dollar loan. Are Mozart's gifts a glitch in divine accounting? Or are his flaws attendant on or even the result of his genius? And how can we account for the glitch in Salieri's design which permits longing to go unanswered by talent? Today we're discussing the 1984 film Amadeus, directed by Miloš Forman. This is Erin O'Luanaigh, this is Wes Alwan, and you're listening to Subtext. So, Wes, do you think that Salieri murdered Mozart? 1:17 Wes: Are we talking historically or are we talking within the world of the film? 1:24 Erin: Let's say both. 1:25 Wes: Well, historically, as far as I know, it's very inaccurate. Yeah, Salieri was very successful. And there's no evidence he was worried about Mozart. 1:34 Erin: Well, there's a little evidence. 1:36 Wes: Okay, all right, well, you have to tell me about it. So within the world of the film, is he an unreliable narrator? That really honestly didn't occur to me, but I guess it's possible. What do you think? 1:47 Erin: Well, his being an unreliable narrator or. 1:50 Wes: Yeah, within the world of the film, did he not kill Mozart? I mean, is there a possibility he's misreporting? 1:57 Erin: I think so. The one scene that really makes me think directly about that dynamic of this unreliable narration is actually after Salieri's opera when Mozart comes down and gives his non compliment compliments to Salieri, which I find really painful. And it occurred to me as I was watching that maybe this was something Salieri's sort of impression of what Mozart said to him, that maybe Mozart was actually giving him real compliments, in other words, and Salieri was remembering it as this cruel mockery. Like when one hears such sounds, what can one think but Salieri or something like that. He didn't know such music was possible. And that was just a moment where I thought, well, that's really kind of a matter of perception on Salieri's part. And it just reminded me that we are getting all of this filtered through his perspective. And what else might he have misinterpreted, exaggerated? I'm not saying that that is either of those things, but it could be. I mean, Mozart himself thought that he was poisoned at the end of his life speech. Yeah. Which gave rise to the theory that Salieri had poisoned him because they were competitors. And Mozart did think that Salieri had iced him out of certain positions. Talked badly about him, though. Salieri was really well loved. He was the teacher of, among others, Mozart's own son. So presumably there was no ill will there. But Beethoven was a good friend of Beethoven's, actually, which is not an easy thing to be good friends with Beethoven. 3:38 Wes: What did you say? I know it's more than deafness probably, but. 3:43 Erin: Yeah, yeah, just a really kind of unpleasant guy. There's a list in this article I gave you I really like and listeners will really enjoy this. Albert Borowitz, who was kind of a true crime expert, wrote lots of books about crime. He has this article from the 70s called Salieri and the Murder of Mozart. And this predates the Shaffer play by a couple of years. So it doesn't get into that. You know, maybe it even kind of precipitated that cultural moment of everyone being obsessed with Mozart again. But he gives a really great outline of the cultural milieu of Mozart and Salieri, what we actually know from the record, from letters, and then how the story of Salieri poisoning Mozart ended up kind of blowing up into this urban myth. And then Pushkin. 4:33 Wes: Did it not start with Pushkin's? 4:35 Erin: No, it was in the ether before that. 4:37 Wes: Mozart and Salieri. 4:38 Erin: Okay, yeah, it was in the ether before that. And then Pushkin took it and ran with it. And then of course, that play was the basis of Amadeus, this article that 4:47 Wes: you're about to read from. Unfortunately, I didn't get a chance to read it, but I do want to read it. But yeah, I'm curious. Yeah, tell us. 4:54 Erin: He writes about what a well liked guy Salieri was. He was undoubtedly one of the leading composers of his period and an important teacher of composition, counting among his pupils Beethoven, Schubert, Liszt, Hummel, Süssmayr, Sechter. I don't know how to say that. And Meyerbeer. He was also a famous teacher of singing. All his students loved and respected him. Friends remembered him as generous, warm and kind hearted and even had the ability to laugh at himself, at least at his difficulties with the German language. He must have had a way with people here, Borowitz says, since he apparently established a close personal relationship with the difficult Beethoven and then he goes on to say that Mozart's son was also a student of Salieri's. And if Constanze was really that concerned about Salieri having murdered her husband, she hardly would have allowed the son to take lessons from him. But as I said, and as the article outlines, there was a little bit of rivalry between them that was recorded in the letters. And Mozart felt he had been pushed out, passed up for opportunities because of Salieri's influence. But there was a great deal of court politics going on at the time. A lot of what the film shows, actually, I think kind of accurately captures some of that. And so there's a great deal of spiritual or poetic truth about what the film captures, certainly in terms of the wider world of the court, but also really shocking and kind of unbelievable, true things. It captures almost every detail about Mozart's funeral correctly or lack thereof. Also, the Requiem was commissioned by a masked stranger who was intending to pass off the Requiem as. As his own composition. An amateur composer, not Salieri, but the exact same dynamic. And he was kind of haunting Mozart during his last days. And Mozart literally was working on the composition on his deathbed, not with Salieri, but with another composer. So, you know, there's a lot in here, actually pretty interestingly accurate. Maybe not the pink wigs and maybe not the laugh, but. 6:54 Wes: Yeah. Where did that laugh come from? Do you know? Do you know the lore of that? The lore of the laugh? 6:59 Erin: The Tom Hulce, the director you worked with that he would not name? Yeah. 7:04 Wes: Oh, wait, say more about that. 7:06 Erin: Oh, Hulce said that he based it off of a director he worked with, but wouldn't name the guy in Adam. 7:13 Wes: Yeah, okay. But yeah, he came up with that himself. Right. Although, I guess, is it a direction within the original play to laugh like that? 7:22 Erin: I don't think so. I think it was a Hulce flourish. 7:25 Wes: Yeah. So he went from being Pinto in Animal House to being Mozart. As far as I know, that was his trajectory. Quite a force of nature with that laugh. Yeah, the giggling dirty minded creature is what Salieri calls them. 7:43 Erin: I'm curious, you've seen the film before? 7:46 Wes: Yeah, I think I saw it in the theater. 7:47 Erin: In theater as a kid. 7:49 Wes: Yeah, I saw it in the theater. Or not too long after. On vhs. 7:54 Erin: Right, right. 7:55 Wes: To date myself. 7:57 Erin: Yeah, vhs. 7:58 Wes: No, I know. I know your relationship to vhs. 8:03 Erin: You're not going to get any guff from me. Are you annoyed by Mozart? You know, I feel some people have really strong reactions to Hulce's portrayal. I find him Weirdly charming, kind of adorable. 8:19 Wes: Yeah. I think I'd find it. I don't know if charming is the word. I find it entertaining. Yeah. 8:24 Erin: It's a little strong, actually. Yeah. Entertaining. Okay. That's good. 8:26 Wes: Yeah. He falls into a category that the character, as he's portrayed. I have trouble putting him into one category or the other. Is he annoying or charismatic? I think the contrast between the beauty of Mozart's music and I suppose the kind of character that we're supposed to associate with that and then the characters he's portrayed, I think that's very effective. So it's counterintuitive. And maybe like Salieri, we wish that he were a more dignified kind of person, but I guess for the most part, it's funny. I suppose I wish he were more dignified. Right. If I'd learned this about the historical Mozart, if I. I'd be. I. That's disappointing, right? 9:15 Erin: Yes. 9:16 Wes: Or would you Would. Would you mind if Mozart turned out to really be this way in real life? 9:22 Erin: No. 9:22 Wes: Why not? 9:23 Erin: Well, the way to really think of him is he was a child star. 9:27 Wes: Right? That's a good point. Yeah. 9:29 Erin: So how surprised can we really be by crude behavior? Not only that, but much mentioned in Mozart lore is his actual love of scatological humor, which is in his letters. Though another element of that, which perhaps exonerates him a little bit, is the fact that in Vienna, people were apparently obsessed with scatological humor at the time. So he is this sort of dirty little imp occasionally in the letters, but not any different from anybody else walking around Vienna. He just wasn't this sort of lofty musician priest that F. Murray Abraham's Salieri seems to be. 10:09 Wes: Yeah. Was European civilization in its kind of kindergarten phase with respect to social transgression. 10:18 Erin: I suppose. 10:19 Wes: So they hadn't yet reached the John Belushi level of sublime transgression. They were still at the scatological phase. Just come back to the Animal House reference. Is that a movie we're going to do at some point in Animal House? 10:38 Erin: I would be very surprised if we. 10:40 Wes: Were you disappointed to find out that John Belushi was a cocaine addict. All right. So, yeah. So that's interesting. I did find that out. I did a little research into how much of this was accurate, and I did find out that, yeah, he. He liked scatological references in his. In his letters. But I'm curious about what. How those looked, actually. I don't know if you've seen details of that, but specific examples. 11:07 Erin: There's a lot of Ass related stuff. 11:11 Wes: Okay. 11:12 Erin: But yeah, I mean, nothing like, I mean, it's weird, but apparently nothing beyond the pale for what the. You know, it was like everybody was obsessed with spongebob or something. It was constantly quoting spongebob and he 11:23 Wes: really, he really was a child prodigy. And when did he compose his first symphony? 11:28 Erin: I don't know, 12 months, 13 months? No, like seven. 11:31 Wes: In the womb. 11:32 Erin: Yeah. He did something at four, something else at seven. 11:36 Wes: They were trying to play him Bach in the womb. 11:40 Erin: Cause they didn't have baby Mozart yet. 11:44 Wes: They heard Mozart coming back out. 11:46 Erin: Yeah. Baby Palestrina. Hildegard of Bingen. The child star element and the sort of arrested development quality I think actually works really well. It was funny. I was with a friend last week and I was asking her about the desert island disc selections that she would choose and talking about how, oh, it's always so easy. It's easy to pick your number one choice. The problem is when you get into the later numbers in the top 10, you know, what do you save and what don't you save? I knew that her top choice was going to be the Mozart piano sonatas. And mine was, was Judy at Carnegie Hall. And I just suddenly made the connection in my head between Mozart and Judy Garland. Like, oh, right, of course. You know, both child stars, you burn out quickly, you die young. 12:33 Wes: Right. 12:34 Erin: Both geniuses. Once in a. Once in a century, perhaps more talents. Both with really strange and difficult relationships to authority. Though that's something I want to talk about with Salieri too. I really love the flashbacks at the beginning when Salieri, who looks so much older than Mozart throughout the film is a little boy hearing of Mozart, an even younger little boy becoming famous and hearing of him. And they're both wearing blindfolds in the two parallel childhood scenes. Mozart blindfolded as he's playing the piano, this little tiny, maybe four or five year old boy, and Salieri blindfolded, playing blind man's buff in the streets with other kids at maybe 12. So not too much of an age difference between them. And so they're sort of peers or siblings vying for a parent's affection and attention. Or Salieri is vying for it anyway. But I really loved that parallel. 13:30 Wes: Yeah. So it's interesting because in a way the suggestion is that Mozart has been corrupted by being a child star. Oh, yeah. And he was taken by his father around Europe. Right. For tours and to show his tricks. 13:45 Erin: Yeah. With his sister Nannerl, in certain ways, equally gifted as a prodigy. 13:50 Wes: Okay. 13:51 Erin: Yeah. 13:51 Wes: You know, in one Sense, he's corrupted by that. Or less mature. But in another sense, he has music in his bones in a way that Salieri can never have because it's almost like a cradle language. I'm assuming Salieri probably started out young, too, but we get this impression that, yeah, Mozart is effortlessly musical. It's part of his character. It's part of his freedom being in essence. And because of that, he doesn't have to try that hard, almost. That's the way it seems. At least everything comes effortlessly. He can play from memory anything he's heard. Therefore, he gets to be in a world that's completely a world of play, as opposed to seriousness and difficult effort. And so the playfulness comes out in his character is just immaturity. 14:43 Erin: We could argue that that's a criticism we could levy against the film. We do see him writing at the pool table. Lorl, A very young Cynthia Nixon reports back to Salieri that Mozart writes all night long and he is engaged in a lot of effort. I do wonder if the film makes it seem too easy in a sort of unrealistic way. 15:07 Wes: Yeah, he works constantly. We get the idea he works constant, but he's not revising, for instance, manuscripts. It's not, ooh, I wonder what. He's just taking his genius and putting it down on the page, which takes hours and hours and hours. But, yeah, I think the film does a good job of showing both those aspects, actually. You know, the amount of labor involved, but also the lack of agonizing and worry and concern that someone like Salieri in the film would have about. Is this the right phrase or. 15:39 Erin: Yeah, yeah. It seems he's taking a sort of. I think maybe even. Maybe even Salieri uses this phrase at some point, but taking divine dictation or something like that. 15:50 Wes: Yeah. Okay. 15:51 Erin: Salieri seems to be doing that, too, when he's composing the welcome march for Mozart and has the crucifix over the piano as he's working it out and then says, grazie, signore, you know. 16:04 Wes: Yeah. 16:05 Erin: And then, of course, he'll return to the crucifix angrily later and sarcastically say, grazie, signore after Mozart has embarrassed him by improving on the march in front of Salieri and the other people in the room, including the emperor. You know, there's this interesting problem that Salieri seems to have almost as a result of his deep understanding of music and his ability to really see these structures and the difficulty so intensely. I don't know what one would call that other than, say, a problem with embodiment or Something he sees Mozart as this pure vessel for this divine dictation. Just this spirit of God walking with this angel of God being given, flesh walking around. And the element of collaboration or of the idea that there is a tremendous amount of, say, mediation or it seems that Salieri is just externalizing. It seems as if he's skipping some sort of step of embodiment. Like we can connect artistic inspiration back to God if we're believers or to the Holy Spirit because ultimately God made us. But any inspiration is also kind of the result of our own gifts and what use we put them to and what's being channeled and what's been properly developed in us and all of these other factors that have to deal really intensely with how we are collaborating with that kind of inspiration. And it seems like there's just this idea in Salieri that Mozart is just a vessel. And when he sees the incarnational reality of him, Salieri is so disillusioned because he doesn't somehow understand humanity in a really fundamental way which, of course means that he's never going to be a great musician by default. Right? Because he doesn't understand that embodiment element, that incarnational, if you like, element which, you know, I think there are a lot of parallels being made sort of winkingly between Mozart and Christ throughout the film. But, yeah, that incarnation, I don't know how else to put it. It's a sort of weird thing because it's about inspiration rather than anything related to morality or something else which we might tie more distinctly to a kind of embodiment. 18:27 Wes: Well, this is, you know, it's the old question of can we separate the artist from their art? And in this case, he seems to think that the character of the Creator ought to be reflected in the character of the thing produced. Or rather, it's the other way around. So if what Mozart is producing is beautiful, why wouldn't he, as a character, be. Why wouldn't his character be beautiful, which is to say, somehow morally upstanding? And that's the kind of bargain that Salieri, early on thinks he's made with God. It's interesting because he will. He will call Mozart the voice of God which is a very different relationship to God than what he imagines himself having early on, where he says, lord, make me a great composer. Let me celebrate your glory through music and be celebrated myself. Make me famous through the world. Make me immortal after I die. Let people speak my name with love for what I wrote. In return I will give you my chastity, my Industry, my deepest humility every hour of my life. Amen. That's a kind of bargain where he's going to be ascetic, morally upright, in return for a gift that he can use to glorify himself, both himself and God. It's not like he produces beautiful things because he's morally upright. It's just he's gonna give me the talent, and then I'll trade you back the moral uprightness. But in the case of Mozart, he has this expectation that a vulgar person couldn't possibly produce such beautiful things, which, you know, I'm kind of sympathetic on one level. We know it's not true. Of course we know that the character of artists and thinkers and all kinds of brilliant people, they're not necessarily such great people. Even if what they're producing is great. It doesn't work that way. But somehow it's hard to give up that wish or that expectation. I don't know what you call it, that one would match the other. And why is that? Why do we. Well, I don't know if you feel the same way, but if you do, why do we have that need for them to line up? 20:46 Erin: Well, I'm certain I do have that need when it comes to certain people. For me, in this film, it seems important or maybe even essential that Mozart, for instance, be obsessed with scatological humor or be kind of a philanderer or be this person who's burning really brightly, living really intensely because he needs to be a kind of a rebuke to Salieri, though Salieri is not really understanding what that rebuke means or what it constitutes. I think that this bargain that you're talking about, which is. Which is a great word for Salieri and this. This divine accounting that he seems to be doing, it's very much, of course, the result of magical thinking. It's very similar to music itself, which is, of course, the most abstract art form, which is, I think, the reason why it's so closely identified with. With the divine or why music can be called, you know, the Voice of God or something like that by Salieri. Mozart's down and dirty. Mozart's in the weeds. Mozart gets what it is to be human. And it's like Salieri only has half of himself. It's not really maternal or paternal thing, but it's as if Salieri only has one parent, one father figure, one divine, authoritarian father figure. And we see throughout, you know, Salieri is really about conforming with authority. Doesn't challenge authority at all until he. He breaks with God. And he's still really interested in being in with the authority figures around him at the court. But it's as if he just has this one parental element in him. And he's this. This angel who turns bad. This thing which is not fully incarnated. And Mozart has. He has another interesting relationship with. With a paternal figure, an authority figure, but one of rebellion. He has, obviously, the love of structure and complexity and authority and divinity implied in his great understanding of music. But then he's also fully human. He's about the personal. He's about pleasure. All of the messy complexity of life, cruelty, beauty, just everything mixed together. And so it seems to me that he's flawed. Of course, he's flawed in these ways which we might find annoying or even perverse. But that seems evidence to me of him being a sort of a full person in a way that Salieri is really not. And what Salieri is missing he just doesn't get throughout the entire. You know, he just sees it as. He's not been given, you know, a proper amount of gift in his sort of divine bank account from God. God hasn't deposited enough money in his account in this imaginary accounting system. And he thinks that all he needs is just to get more of that divine money. And really he should be looking in a kind of a different direction. I don't know if that means he should be, like, actually going out and sleeping with people or, like, drinking or having a good time. I mean, Salieri, actually. It's even noted in the. In the article that I mentioned at the beginning of the episode that he didn't drink. He's Italian. He doesn't drink. 23:58 Wes: But he did have eight. Eight kids and a mistress. 24:02 Erin: There you go. There you go. That's a lot better than the. Than the. The filmic Salieri. But, yeah, you know what I mean? Like, it's. It's. That seems to be the problem. He doesn't really understand people or life or fun or anything that has to do with real life. You can't really live like a priest. And I don't mean that you. You have to go out and have a lot of sex and get drunk and stuff like that. But I also don't think that you can live a fully ascetic life. And. Well, unless you're Gerard Manley Hopkins or Dickinson or something like, I don't know, like you'd have to have a really exceptionally strange personality in order to. In order to live that way and 24:44 Wes: still produce works of genius to live ascetically and still. 24:48 Erin: Yeah, I think so, yeah, I mean, in certain instances, I know it can actually maybe even be a benefit. But I'd say in Salieri's case, there's something. There's a chip missing there. 25:01 Wes: Yeah. It's kind of an interesting contrast, maybe between an obsessional character and a perverse character. Notably, he doesn't ask to be the voice of God. Right. The thing that he calls Mozart over and over again. He asks to be given a voice that can be used to glorify God, but not to have God speak through him, maybe, if I'm getting that right. And so it's not in the mode of inspiration or being taken over by the muse or something like that. It's more about work ethic and discipline. And that's where the asceticism, the moral asceticism fits in. You can't be creative unless all your energies are directed away from the lower things in life towards this one thing. So maybe this is. You know, I had this thought actually when I was watching the film. It's a comparison I don't think you're going to like, between Cuckoo's Nest and this, where it's like Nurse Ratched versus. 26:02 Erin: Oh, sure. 26:03 Wes: But it's. Yeah. So it's a little bit of a Dionysus, maybe, versus the Apollonian here, or it's not quite it, but, you know, the Dionysian versus someone who's much more rigid. 26:17 Erin: Yeah, exactly. And I think that's what I'm talking about with the fact that Salieri seems to have one parent and Mozart really two. I mean, it's sneaky, but he seems to be actually the fusion of the Apollonian and the Dionysian because he's. Because as a great musician, that Apollonian element is already baked in. Right. Those structures are already there. 26:38 Wes: Yeah. There's a lot of formal complexity and structures, as you put it. But, I mean, as a character, though, he does seem to me to be lopsided, like the Only. When does he seem like an adult? I mean, there's an adult like feeling to him when he's composing, when he's at the pool table you know, concentrating, or at the end of the film, when he's involved in creating music. In a way, a serious side of him does seem to come out in those. In those moments, because he's engaged with sublimity and this almost maybe a worshipful quality, but there's an intensity about it. But, yeah, I don't think of him. There's no maturity to him at any other point, is there? 27:20 Erin: No, I Don't think so. That's another interesting element of genius we might hone in on. Or specifically this child star kind of genius where Mozart really seems, I mean, you know, of course whenever I say that, I mean the film Mozart, he really needs a keeper. It seems he needs someone to take care of him, someone to be the responsible one. He needs some guardrail and that, you know, like Stanzi working to make sure that he's actually getting money or, you know, it seems this, this relationship with the parent and the child who is a child star, is one which hobbles their ability to really be a grown up for the rest of their lives. And yet as you've already said, the parents determination to imbue the child with all of these gifts puts them in this other category where they can't really function in the real world, where they are not really part of normal human society. You know, they become a performing monkey, as Salieri's father says. You know, they become in essence a freak. Of course they have these, these freakish gifts already that are then also properly developed and properly channeled. It's like they're, they're lopsided or they're, you know, one can imagine that they're almost like top heavy or they have these. If we're to sort externalize it in a kind of metaphor, part of their body is abnormally huge and they need like some apparatus to get themselves around because they have some big head and so they keep falling over and they need somebody to hold them up or something. You know, they have that kind of dynamic going on inside them and that seems to be part of what genius is or how one part of you is this freakish part. And then maybe the rest of you is underdeveloped or, or maybe even normal, but the freakish part of you is so freakish that you need some support, somebody to take care of, someone to help you navigate the world. 29:11 Wes: Yeah. And I think maybe part of the disappointment of finding out that the beauty of the artistic product is not reflected in the character of the creator. Right. Because immaturity, there's an incompleteness about immaturity. And the exceptional art object is there's a completeness to it. And maybe the wish is that we think that the creative process should be redemptive, right? To be able to be creative like that. In a way that's sort of one of the things that gives life meaning. It should be deep and transformative and make us better people and improve our quality of life overall, not just give us this thing to do when we're not drinking ourselves to death or something like that, or when. 30:01 Erin: Which you can only do when you're drinking yourself to death. 30:03 Wes: Right, right. It really is kind of a paradox, and I think Jung pointed this out very well. He makes some point, the effect that if all your energy is going into creativity, if you become obsessed with that in a way, it can lead to self neglect. There's a kind of narcissistic quality to it. And as we know, Narcissus becomes fascinated with his own image to the point of self neglect and dies looking at himself in the pool. He can't attend to the real self because he's attending to this imaginary, more perfect self. Art is. And other high cultural activities, thinking and art and all sorts of things. I mean, they're supposed to reflect a cultural maturity, I think, and supposed to reflect something that's deeply important in life, and yet they can be accompanied by self destruction, self destructiveness, self neglect. 31:02 Erin: You're making me think of. You know, I'm probably like such a. Such a Salieri, certainly in the magical thinking department, but you're making me remember a time in my life where I thought that if I wasn't. If things weren't going well for me spiritually, that I wouldn't be able to write anything that, like, if I were not doing well, like, doing all the things I needed to do spiritually, that. That kind of channel, you know, that I, like, wasn't. I wouldn't be open to inspiration if I wasn't open to grace, because these things seemed to me so twinned together. And then I. I was obviously, you know, disabused of that notion when I must have been depressed or something, and. And, like, not maybe not going to Mass or something like that, and was then able to write something I thought was really good or something like that. Right. So it's like, wait a minute, that can't work. I mean, and like, I knew logically also that that was not the case. Like, I knew it, but there's. But still, I think when you have those religious structures in your mind, it's very, very difficult to tweeze those things out, to separate them and understand the difference between. I mean, I still don't fully understand it. Right. Like, I don't. Like, this is why I'm kind of struggling to make the distinction in Salieri's way of thinking between inspiration and grace. Sorry. This was related directly to something that you were saying then about Mozart, which now I've, like, lost the thread now that I've embarrassed myself by telling this story. But no, it's not. But yeah, we want or we think that these things should line up because it kind of doesn't make any sense unless they do. And yet we can even see that there's a way in which creativity can have nothing to do with. Even with what it in itself purports to be, which is a collaboration with something greater than yourself. It can ultimately be about going deeper into narcissism, as you're suggesting, even as it may be a work of. A work that shows some kind of deep insight, maybe about other people. Like a play. If you're writing a play. And I mean, this is just an example I could think of. And you're like putting in all these characters that are fully realized and really demonstrate a kind of deep understanding of other people. And one would think that this was a work of self forgetfulness. You can still be working on it to such an extent that it's like a narcissistic. The process of creating it is really narcissistic or something. Is that kind of what you're teasing out from Jung there? Or am I mischaracterizing it? 33:31 Wes: Yeah, I mean, speaking of. Right. You had brought up the relationship between the spiritual. Having your spiritual house in order and being able to be creative. Mozart doesn't seem to think about God at all. But Salieri is obsessed with him and also thinks that Mozart is the voice of God in a sense. So he says after looking at a score of Mozart's, he says on the page it looked like nothing. Beginning, simple, almost comic, just a pulse. Bassoons, basset horns like a rusty squeeze box. And then suddenly, high above it, an oboe. A single note hanging there, unh, unwavering. Until clarinet took it over. Sweetened into a phrase of such delight. This was no composition by a performing monkey. This was music I had never heard. Filled with such longing, such unfulfillable longing. It seemed to me I was hearing the voice of God. So it's the voice of God, but in an obscene child. I guess that's the vehicle for the voice of God. How can you be as engaged with the sublime as Mozart is and just not even be thinking about God? How can you be the voice of God if God is not even on your radar? 34:51 Erin: Yeah, I really love that quote because I think it reveals so clearly the soul of Mozart's talent. But how it expresses itself in this way, which is at first seems simple, is childlike. And then it becomes plaintive and about longing and about beauty and I think that's kind of what Mozart is about. That understanding of music, as we've already said, seems to me to be the implicit understanding of God or relationship with God, such as it is in him, or such as he can understand that or that he cares about that or appreciates that. 35:30 Wes: That's very interesting. Yeah. Because Salieri will say later, all I ever wanted was to sing to God. He gave me that longing and then made me mute. If he didn't want me to praise him with music, why implant the desire like a lust in my body and then deny me the talent? Salieri's longing is to sing to God. But in for Mozart, the longing finds its way into the. The longing is in the music itself, which there's an implied relationship to the divine in that. So unfulfillable longing is necessarily relationship to the divine. 36:03 Erin: Yeah, that's great. That's great. I love that too, that Salieri mentions at one point that he's written 40 operas alone. It's like mute. I don't know, maybe. Maybe you weren't mute enough, but. Yeah, but that relationship to the childlike too is something I wanted to, I wanted to address because I do think that there are Christ like elements. Obviously, if Salieri is this, this priest or this monk of music and Mozart is its fullest incarnation or embodiment, then Mozart is already a sort of implied Christ figure. But I also thought of the holy fool element to his behavior. And I think that that is revealed a bit in even just in that description of Salieri's the squeeze box and the childlike quality, the simplicity that then reveals this hidden depth or that starts to gather to itself some sort of profound implication as it rolls along. The Requiem scenes too are a little reminiscent to me. Maybe this is a stretch, but it occurred to me this time a little reminiscent to me of the agony in the garden, for instance, Salieri saying he won't leave him, you know, Christ sweating blood, you know, in those moments before he's arrested, before the Passion. It's a little reminiscent of that. And of course he's working on the Mass, so one can't not think of that, that Christ like parallel anyway, Salieri kind of, kind of tending to him like one of the apostles and then eventually falling asleep, though Mozart too falls asleep. So it's obviously not a perfect parallel, but there's something of that, you know, staying up, keeping watch during the suffering and the. And in that instance, the Requiem, which is of course it's a Mass, so it's already a prayer and also the working on it for Mozart, also in that metaphor, would become a kind of prayer because Christ is in the garden praying all night. Maybe next time we can focus more on Salieri, on Salieri's relationship to his father and of the inciting miracle of his own, the miracle that allowed his musical training to begin. He calls it this. It's a big joke in the movie. It's a great sight gag. He says a miracle happened. We see his father choking and dying. Talk about some dad issues there. But anyway, so maybe in part two, we can talk a little bit more about Salieri and then also just the court and the dynamics at court and maybe some of the really interesting political arguments that are happening as well. 38:39 Wes: Okay. 38:39 Erin: All right. Thank you. 38:41 Wes: Thank you.

    • Transcript
  • February 23 · 31 min

    The Character of Authority in Shakespeare’s “Julius Caesar” (Part 6)

    Wes & Erin continue their discussion of Shakespeare’s “Julius Caesar,” and its sustained reflection on how political power is constructed, located, and legitimated. Upcoming Episodes: “Amadeus,” Susan Sontag’s “On Photography.” Pre-order Erin’s forthcoming book “Avail” here: http://subtextpodcast.com/avail For bonus content, become a paid subscriber at Patreon or directly on the Apple Podcasts app. Patreon subscribers also get early access to ad-free regular episodes. Also from Wes: Curtain Times, a calendar of Boston theatre, classical, talks and readings. Follow: Twitter | Facebook | Website Transcript 0:19 Erin: or patreon.com/subtextpodcast. 0:32 Wes: Hey, welcome to part six of our discussion of Shakespeare's Julius Caesar. We just got done sort of. Well, almost. We're pretty much there with. Yeah, we got done with the funeral speeches. Anything more we want to say about that before we get to the killing of Cinna? 0:49 Erin: Just that if they've made it this far, I think I'm delighted to announce that I have a will here that will bequeath some public gardens to all the listeners who are still with us in part just to prove what a swell pair we are. 1:01 Wes: Right. So he does trot out the will at the end and so that seals the deal. And then the crowd goes off to riot, basically. Including. Put fire to the 75 drachmas. 1:13 Erin: That's it. Oh, yeah. How much does drachma is this? Like everybody gets in this class action suit? Everybody gets 43 cents. 1:21 Wes: Speaking of which, did I mention on one of these, the Ides of March coin by Brutus? I probably did. Do you remember that? 1:28 Erin: No. 1:28 Wes: Do you know that Brutus issued a coin commemorating the Ides of March? You're kidding. And there's quite a few of them in gold and silver, and I've seen them in at least one museum. Like at the bottom on one side of the coin there's a hat. There's like a freedom cap kind of thing with two daggers, a dagger on each side, and at the bottom it says EID MAR, abbreviated. And then you turn it over and I think it's a portrait of Brutus. It's either him or his ancestor Brutus, I forget which. But yeah. How crazy is that? 1:59 Erin: This is how you end up in Satan's mouth in Dante. 2:05 Wes: And he issued that coinage to pay his troops. There's a long period where they had to go up. Him and Cassius had to go out and conquer half the world, basically, to raise those armies. They had to go town by town all over the world that Rome had conquered and either demand their loyalty or fight them and defeat them. 2:22 Erin: Not that they wanted to, mind you, 2:24 Wes: acquire an army along the way. 2:26 Erin: Just humble Romans, right? 2:28 Wes: Yeah. So Brutus had actually had a job in the mint, basically. And so I don't know if that helped him with figuring out what coin he was going to mint with that to pay his troops, but that's pretty. It's just so nuts. 2:40 Erin: That's really nuts. 2:41 Wes: To commemorate the murder of someone who's basically a friend. Now, they had had their ups and downs of course, like Pompey killed Brutus father. I don't know if you know that. But for various. For complicated reasons, Brutus ended up on the side of Pompey during that civil war, but then ultimately switched to Caesar. And they traveled together, they. For extended periods, they traveled together on various quests. So it's a bit nuts. And there had been decades of this kind of crazy war stuff going on. It's like the. Whatever the Republic was to Brutus, it had been chaos with all this fighting and infighting for decades. 3:27 Erin: I think that did seem to be the impression that I got too, is just in reviewing this particular moment in history. The Republic was only ever. It was like the idea of the 1950s to a certain wing of the Republican Party. This version of events never existed. The glory of the Republic was just a fantasy somehow. 3:48 Wes: I mean, the murder of Caesar concealed the fate of the Republic. Right. That was the end. You know, the irony here is. Yeah. That Brutus act, instead of preserving the Republic, just made sure that that was the very end. It set in motion a kind of final reckoning, a final civil war that I think could only end with an emperor. Emperor. Sorry, was that responsive to what you were saying? 4:12 Erin: Yes. 4:15 Wes: All right, all right. So this scene with act three, scene three with Cinna, where he's murdered for his name, also in Plutarch, I think. Now I'm beginning to question everything that I think is in Plutarch. So listeners will have to take everything with a grain of salt. So I could be hallucinating it, but I'm pretty sure this is in Plutarch as well. In any case. Yeah, very important that the plebeians are indiscriminate in their violence. And then we get he's, I'm Cinna the poet. I'm Cinna the poet. Tear him for his bad verses. Tear him for his bad verses. There seems to be always some kind of self deprecating reference towards bad poets in Shakespeare's plays. The idea in Nan, you know, I'm not Cinna the conspirator. It's no matter his name, Cinna pluck but his name out of his heart and turn him going. So this is almost a variation on killing Caesar's spirit. And it's too bad if we have to kill the body as well. And then on some of these other things that we've talked about with the social construction of power, where what's in a name? Right? And then Caesar's name becoming equivalent to the name King. But what's in a Role, Right. I say you're a consul, and therefore you have such and such powers. Well, it's spooky. And I was trying to associate that in our earlier discussions with the concept of superstition. I don't usually stand on ceremony, where ceremony is ambiguous, between forms of politeness and then the kind of forms that go into the making of a state, the ceremonies of a functioning government, and then between the productions of oracles, superstition. There's something spooky and superstitious about the way that power works and the way that hierarchy works. And here it's kind of reduced to its kind of absurd premise, which is that if you have a certain name, you could be just guilty by virtue of that, if your name is the same as that of the conspirator. So it's almost like acting on a form of superstition. 6:31 Erin: I mean, what's so complicated about this, as you're already suggesting, right, is that this is a sort of recapitulation of Caesar's murder. Right. So this crowd, inflamed with rage over the murder of Caesar, is now enacting something similar to what the conspirators have just done. And we also have that proleptic idea of what Caesar's name becomes in history being applied here with the name of a conspirator. And just a coincidence coming to haunt you, it seems to me, because it has elements of both sides kind of attached to it to imply something about the idea of art being apolitical, being perhaps the most dangerous position of all. Or one might get attacked for coincidence. And depending on what use the crowd wants to give to one's art, they'll just take it and run with it, and they'll murder the work in the process or something. 7:30 Wes: Yeah. There's actually an extra layer of irony which I really love, which is that tear him for his bad verses. Poets are guilty of the same sort of identification that the crowd is making here. Juliet is the sun. Right. That's the substance of metaphor, which is to make these identifications. Cinna. He dies by a variation of his own identifications. And those identifications can be suggestive. And it's the sort of things that are happening in Antony Speech and that can manipulate people into doing things. And the general role of art in culture, the ways in which art can influence people, as you point out, I think you were hinting at that it can be a potentially pernicious, dangerous force within society. Plato wanted to kick the poets out of the republic. Right. Or at least to control what they were saying because they might represent the gods as being bad people, which they were. They were bad people. He wanted a better representation of the gods so that they wouldn't corrupt people. So there's something dangerous, I think, about metaphor, and we've talked about this in our Shakespeare episode, the ways in which reasoning can be grounded in metaphor and bad reasoning especially can be grounded in metaphor because metaphors, in a way, are treated almost like little scientific models. And you can extend the metaphor and if you don't test it against reality, you can come to all sorts of absurd conclusions. So, yeah, I think there are many ways in which metaphor is a dangerous tool. Antony has just illustrated that, that this scene beautifully captures all of that. 9:13 Erin: It puts me in mind, of course, of Brutus saying, I have the same dagger for myself when it shall please my country to need my death. You know, Shakespeare's almost doing that through Cinna. He's giving the poet the same dagger. Right. And in such a way as to. It's lucky perhaps that Shakespeare has Plutarch to keep referring back to because Brutus is saying some pretty dangerous things, you know, to maybe be saying in the Globe in front of Elizabeth and. Right. All of this is also kind of covering one's bases to turn the dagger on himself and to either inflame the dramatic moment with the scene which in, for instance, in Orson Welles Mercury Theater adaptation of Caesar apparently like, brought the house down. But then again, this is in 37. Welles was using a lot of contemporary political imagery, making Brutus a sort of anti fascist. You know, Caesar was identified with Mussolini and Hitler. Rather than being killed by a mob, I think he has Cinna killed by the secret police. 10:19 Wes: Oh, yeah, that changes it. 10:21 Erin: Right. But it brought the house down in this riotous. You know, it was considered the high point of the play. In fact, there's a very famous. I think it's sort of famous. I like Jacob Landau. I don't know how well known he is at this point. Probably not very well known. But there were, you know, artworks depicting this moment in the Welles adaptation, depending on how you want to play it. It's almost a moment of comic relief or absurdity after everything. Right. Or. 10:47 Wes: I agree, yeah, yeah. 10:49 Erin: Or in the Welles adaptation, a surprising emotional high point which seems to even. Seems to have an even greater reaction than the actual meat and potatoes of this play. You know, the two speeches. 11:02 Wes: To me, it's doing at least two different things at once, which is. It's consolidating something that's really important thematically around the name. The name, Power and the name. Yeah. Caesar. Caesar's king. Yeah. Cinna versus Cinna. And then the comments on, well, the little meta commentary on bad poetry. My impression from Shakespeare, from what I've read almost every play at this point multiple times, is that there's a kind of rough and tumble relationship between audience and players and playwright. And he was acting often, I guess, maybe early on he just went. Not that we actually know, but he was probably concentrating on playwriting and letting other people do the acting. But I imagine, right, the grunts in the audience, there's always the question, are you enjoying yourselves? No, well, sorry, yeah, I'm not that great. And some of this is explicitly said, especially when there's people giving prologues or epilogues like the Tempest. I hope you've had a good time, if not, sorry about that. So, yeah, many references, I think, to. To bad poets and bad verses throughout his play, with the implication being that he might be one of those people. He might be subjecting his audience to his bad verses and they might want to tear him to pieces. Right. So it calls out this, I think, real tension in art between artist and audience, because for some reason, you know how when you go to improv and it's bad and it's just like so excruciating with stand up comedy, it's just like you almost feel like it's happening to you, like some kind of empathetic connection. But I think it can arouse a certain amount of hostility in an audience, which is strange. Right. If you go to see a bad play, you want to throw tomatoes, you want to get violent, but it should be pretty low stakes. I'm just going to try to pass some time and if it's not great, okay, it's not that great. But do you have to kill the actors? Well, but anyway, yeah, I don't know 13:20 Erin: if this is too much of a stretch, but when I think of that, when I think of tomatoes, you know, I think of the crowd at La Scala, for instance. And one of the things that these incredibly emotional and often violent crowds are responding to is a poor performance of an opera that they know well. So there's a sort of ideal in the ether of the performance, as it should be, or a singer who originated the role, who's the best, and you're not measuring up to that ideal, betraying the text somehow, the perfection contained within the material. And so I hesitated to say that because, well, that's not the case here, but it is because he's dramatizing A story everybody knows. So there's a danger, right, of this isn't, say, an original play. It is. And it is what to add in, what to take out. You know, in a way he's doing something like what a. What a great opera singer would do, which is an interpretation of pre existing material. And the extent to which he interprets it well or doesn't is going to be what he sort of lives or dies by in this, in this. Most famous of any of his stories that he treats in any of his plays. Right. This is the most famous, I mean, I think of his Harold Bloom, who said, you know, that Caesar is the most famous person that Shakespeare will ever treat in his, in his plays. I have the inherent feeling that there's something more to be said about that. But one of the things that tear him for his bad verses makes me think of is also in Brutus's speech a little earlier in the speech when he says, which I don't think we addressed directly, as he was valiant, I honor him, but as he was ambitious, I slew him. There is tears for his love, joy for his fortune, honor for his valor and death for his ambition. 15:09 Wes: Yeah, I don't know how we missed that. 15:11 Erin: Yeah, Right. So he important. Yes. Doling out justice in accordance to his characteristics. Right. You're not, you're not a person. You're a collection of characteristics which we have to treat on an individual basis. That also reminds me of this, it reminds me of, you know, tear him for his bad verses or the coincidence incidents of having the same name. And therefore you're not really a person. You're just someone with a collection of characteristics, including a name which may or may not serve you well. And maybe something like, you know, what a playwright has to deal with. Well, this part was really good, but then this part was bad. And so we want to throw tomatoes here, but we want to, we want to clap here. He should have taken out this part from Plutarch or added in this part, you know, I, I just. This idea that Brutus is picking and choosing what to celebrate and what to. To slay. Brutus is the severest theater critic of all. 16:00 Wes: You know, he, he thrice refused the crown and he did a bad acting job. 16:04 Erin: Or did he? Yeah, right. I mean, or we're also getting. Right, we're getting a constant critical interpretation too, is another thing which we're hearing from people. We're not actually seeing what we're, what we're really seeing and what we're being told, I think are constantly Being played with here, like the will, Caesar refusing the crown. We're getting it filtered through critics. Through criticism. We don't know if Caesar has. I mean, if Cinna has bad verses. So, you know. But we're getting an instant. Probably. Right. But we're getting an instant sort of critical apparatus around him. 16:38 Wes: Shakespeare's not interested in crafting original plots, which is. It's kind of why I'm not interested in plot either, when, you know. 16:47 Erin: Same. 16:49 Wes: Yeah. In this context, if it's a Netflix series, it better have a good plot. The context where I'm interested in the poetry of it and character and all that stuff. His plots are often quite loose. And then, like with King Lear, he just took someone else's play and rewrote it, basically. 17:08 Erin: Yes. 17:09 Wes: And with all this other stuff, he's faithfully. Yeah. He's adapting historical accounts and the magic is not in the plot. 17:17 Erin: Well, as I'm sure we've said before, in the Tudor era, these were just things that people were not interested in, and they weren't interested in having some sort of Christopher Nolan style, you know, with people who have never and will never live, you know, saying absolutely absurd things. But there's this really cool twist. Yeah. I mean, it's just a different set of values, it seems. 17:39 Wes: What would Shakespeare's version of Inception be? Right. Nolan isn't. Inception is one of his. Right. 17:43 Erin: Yeah. Well, that's his best one, I think. 17:46 Wes: Can you imagine? 17:47 Erin: Oh, no, it's not. I think it's the Prestige. 17:50 Wes: But anyway, the Tempest is the closest he gets to science fiction. Right. 17:54 Erin: Yes. And I think. But I think that. I think the plot or the genius or the, you know, what Nolan does say with the things inside of other things is always happening at the line level in Shakespeare anyway. You know, know, people being mirrors of each other, people infecting each other's thoughts, you know, all of that is simply being externalized in Nolan and leaving. Leaving the character sort of empty, but. 18:19 Wes: Right, right. Yeah. Very good. Very good point. 18:22 Erin: Not to go after him. I don't mean to. He made some good movies. I just. It's not really my thing. 18:28 Wes: Yeah. I mean, I think I enjoyed them, but I. Most entertainment leaves me feeling unsatisfied. 18:34 Erin: Tear Nolan for his bad films. 18:35 Wes: Yes. 18:38 Erin: They're great. They're great. 18:39 Wes: All right. What do we want to say before we conclude about these final two acts, which we knew we weren't going to spend a lot of time on, But I compared this to the point in Jaws where they go out to look for the shark. And I don't have as much interest. 18:56 Erin: Yeah, I don't either. I think it's really funny when Cassius and Brutus break up and. And then get back together. Like it's fun at the infighting that goes on and the little power games and stuff. We could spend a lot of time on that. And I don't know that we would come up with anything more interesting than simply saying, isn't this how all these things work? Everybody's getting on each other's nerves. 19:19 Wes: Yeah. I mean, it shows how. From some of the commentary I read, I can see that scholars and critics take these acts more seriously than I have on the current reading. So there's a lot going. You could say there's still a lot going on thematically. I suppose what we're supposed to get out of them fighting is the way in which their lofty ideals have degenerated into a power struggle. Right. That's one part of this. But that big fight in the tent, right. They really get into. 19:56 Erin: Gets ugly in a way, which is so sort of petty. And it's not even really fun. You know, they're not like brandishing great zingers at each other or anything. It's. I think it's very well done. I mean, it's very. It's interesting. 20:08 Wes: And. Yeah, and they're mad at one. Cassius wanted Brutus to pardon someone. And Brutus is saying, you didn't send the gold I needed. And is accusing Cassius of being corrupt himself. Which, again, I think all of us in Plutarch. But in the end, the way they make up, it seems like it turns out all to be a miscommunication. It all suddenly just dissolves because Cassius says, well, that messenger was a fool. How does it end? 20:39 Erin: Yeah, the messenger informed you wrong. Brutus has this whole thing that he doesn't like Cassius's methods. He doesn't want to get his hands dirty. So he needs money to be raised. But he doesn't want to do it the way Cassius. Cassius is doing it. So Cassius has to do it for him because he's too honorable. And then Brutus accuses Cassius of denying him the money or something like that. And then Cassius says, I didn't deny you the money. The messenger just informed you wrong. So that. Yeah. So the whole thing was about money being raised. Yeah. So they literally go back and forth. I denied you, not. You did. I did not. Like. It's so petty. 21:15 Wes: It's so stupid. It. Yeah, yeah. 21:18 Erin: I did send to you for certain sums of gold which you denied me. For I can raise no money by vile means. I have no ways to get money myself. I'm too pure. But you can get it, because, you know, you. You don't have my scruples. And he was but a fool that brought my answer back. So, yes, the whole thing was leaving things up to messengers, and. And in fact, what this does is presages the messenger problem, which will end in Cassius killing himself. 21:46 Wes: Right. We also get another poet. 21:48 Erin: Right. 21:49 Wes: Let me go in to see the generals. There is some grudge between them. Tis not meet they be alone. Lucilius tries to prevent him. Nothing but death shall stay me. And then he comes in and he tries to, you know, tries to kind of mediate their fight. And Cassius says, how vilely doth this cynic rhyme. 22:11 Erin: Here's a bad. 22:11 Wes: I abuse the poet. So. Yeah. What is that scene for? What should the wars do with these jigging fools? 22:22 Erin: Yeah. I mean, if Cinna is a shadow of Caesar or of Brutus, or of Brutus and Caesar, then Cinna himself also needs a shadow. He needs a rhyme. This poet says, for shame, you generals. What do you mean? Love and friends as two such men should be. For I have seen more years, I'm sure, than ye. You know. He has his little cups. 22:47 Wes: Now that you read that out loud, that is really bad. 22:49 Erin: Yeah. Yeah. No, it's a couple. It's. Yeah. So. So. 22:51 Wes: For I have seen more years, I'm sure, than ye. Yeah. 22:54 Erin: Everybody needs their little. Everybody needs their little pair. Their little couplet. 22:59 Wes: Yeah. So the poet is coming in to try to save the day and say, I've got something to add. I'm not just useless in war. Finally, I've found a purpose. I'm going to reconcile these two great generals. We get another scene where there's another critical mistake about military planning that is really Brutus fault. Cassius has the right idea. And then he. He's quickly overruled. I mean, he gives up very quickly. It's like Cassius has learned that he's just not gonna get anywhere with Brutus. And then we get the scene, another kind of poignant scene with music. And then Caesar's ghost. So it's kind of a tender scene between him and his slave boy, I guess, is what you would call it, Right. Lucius falls asleep with the instrument in his lap. 23:53 Erin: That's right. Yeah. 23:54 Wes: I guess I'm skipping over the part where Portia. 23:58 Erin: We get the two deaths of Portia, right? 24:01 Wes: Twice. Yeah. The two reveals. 24:05 Erin: And both times, Brutus is like, oh, that's too bad. 24:09 Wes: Yeah. 24:11 Erin: Forgive me. I'm too busy screwing up massively at Philippi. 24:15 Wes: Well, I think he shows. He shows. Shows? No man bears sorrow better. Portia is dead. No. You're not convinced? 24:25 Erin: I don't know. Brutus did a better job of memorializing Caesar, who he murdered, than his wife. But, yeah, it leaves me a little cold and ironic since Portia swallowed hot coals, but don't. 24:42 Wes: Humor. Yeah. So, Caesar's ghost. What do we make of that? Well, the music and. I mean, do you have anything to say about either of those? 24:51 Erin: There are lots and lots of echoes of Macbeth in here. 24:54 Wes: So what are the plays in which ghosts appear? Is it just. There's Macbeth and Caesar and Hamlet and. What else? I don't know if there's anything else. 25:04 Erin: There has to be. 25:05 Wes: Oh, Richard iii. Right. He's definitely in Richard ii. Just looking this up right now. Yeah. Hamlet, Macbeth, Julius Caesar and Richard iii. 25:15 Erin: Cymbeline. 25:16 Wes: Yeah. So that's really interesting to me that it happens so rarely in his place, I would say. I mean, it's used to good effect in Hamlet and Macbeth. Right. By the way, did you see Hamnet? 25:31 Erin: I haven't seen it yet. 25:32 Wes: Okay. That's a real tearjerker. But. But, yeah, I mean, is it being used effectively here? I mean, I hate to be a critic of good old Shakespeare. 25:45 Erin: Thy evil spirit, Brutus, to tell thee, thou shalt see me at Philippi. 25:50 Wes: I. 25:50 Erin: At Philippi. He doesn't get gray lines or anything. He's not Marley or something. 25:55 Wes: Right. I was about to say, remember me? 25:59 Erin: Your old partner? Yeah. 26:01 Wes: He could have all the winds with tongues in them speaking, you know? Really? I guess that'd be hard to pull off on the stage at the time. 26:09 Erin: Yeah. He doesn't say much. I mean, Banquo doesn't say anything in Macbeth. Right. He just shakes his gory locks at Macbeth. And, in fact, some stage adaptations don't even. They just have Macbeth responding to the empty chair. 26:22 Wes: But Macbeth is tortured with guilt, and Hamlet is tortured and Richard. So these usually happen in the context of. 26:33 Erin: That's interesting. 26:34 Wes: People racked with some interesting psychology, some sort of negative emotion, and here. Well, maybe that's the point. Maybe Brutus's kind of indifference to this is part of the point. 26:49 Erin: It's more about the haunted than the hauntee, You know, Brutus just doesn't. He shall not be moved. 27:00 Wes: Ill spirit, I would hold more talk with thee. Yeah. But other than that, it's almost like Brutus is. He's just kind of out of it. That whole scene with Lucius and the music, too, it's almost in. Like his heart is not in the project of war. Exactly. 27:17 Erin: Well, what is there for Brutus at this point? I mean, Brutus. Brutus's whole bag was opposition. Brutus needed a Caesar to rail against. 27:26 Wes: Yeah, that's a good point. 27:28 Erin: And, you know, what's he going to do? I mean, he's powerless against the actual tide of the empire. You know, he's gotten rid of his personal antagonist and now dramatically, you know, he's sort of floundering. 27:43 Wes: Yeah. I don't know. I'm curious. I wonder how many people sort of know you. Yeah. Get less interested in this play, in Acts 4 and 5, like me. Is that the typical response? Or is it. Am I missing something? 27:56 Erin: It must be. 27:57 Wes: But anyway. Yeah. Do you have any final. Final words before we conclude we should 28:02 Erin: end where we began, with Antony's last words about Brutus, you know, because maybe absent Caesar and in light of, you know, when I was coming down hard on Brutus and you said, oh, you don't agree with Antony's assessment of him. Him, Maybe this. This long decline into the final. Into the final scene here at the end of Act 5, we can get here with Brutus or Antony can get here with Brutus because he's become mild in the absence of this force to fight against. Or the length of these scenes or the distance now we've traveled between Caesar's murder at the exact halfway point. Point has kind of made us remember. I don't know. It goes against. Goes against Antony's idea that the evil men do lives after them, but the good is often interred with their bones. But maybe Antony is remembering what was good about Brutus because there's sort of been enough dramaturgical time to come back around or memorialize him. Well. And he's been softened in light of the fact that he's lost in battle. And so Antony is going to give him his due. And also, the spark has gone out of his life now that Caesar is dead and his reason for living and fighting for the republic is dead, too. 29:19 Wes: Yeah, it's interesting. I want to just compare what Plutarch has to say just to get an idea. Give people an idea of how Shakespeare adapted this so from the Marcus Brutus life. Because I think it ends the same way. By the way, also, Brutus's mom was a mistress of Caesar. Servilia. 29:43 Erin: No way. Yeah, that is. 29:47 Wes: And none of that of course, none of the Hamlet type of stuff exploited 29:54 Erin: well, but Bloom says that this is even more suggestive of that sort of Freudian conflict than Hamlet. Hamlet. I mean, I think I find that an absurd statement on Bloom's part, but I think it's funny that he thinks so and yet doesn't mention that fact in his essay on Julius Caesar. 30:15 Wes: Brutus's dead body was found by Antony, who commanded the richest purple mantle that he had to be thrown over it. And afterwards, the mantle being stolen, he found the thief and had him put to death. He sent the ashes of Brutus to his mother. Servilia. 30:30 Erin: Servilia is not a great name on a couple levels, but 30:36 Wes: especially if you're dating Caesar. 30:38 Erin: Yeah. I'll do anything for you. 30:43 Wes: Oh, you know what? It's in the Antony. I think it's in the Antony life, anyway. All right, that's it. 30:49 Erin: We made it. 30:50 Wes: That's the Antony. Six hours of discussing. What do you mean? 30:54 Erin: We didn't really cover the. The last two acts. 30:57 Wes: Yeah, I don't feel. I don't feel bad about that at all. 31:00 Erin: Neither do I. Neither do I. 31:02 Wes: But this was fun. All right, thank you. 31:05 Erin: Thank you, and thanks to everyone who listened. For an easy way to do that, go to subtextpodcast.com patreon.com subtextpodcast Please send your questions, feedback, and episode requests to letters@subtextpodcast.com if we get enough questions, we'll do some bonus Q and A shows for subscribers. You can also find us on Facebook subtextpodcast and on Twitter enjoysubtext.

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  • February 18 · 50 min

    The Character of Authority in Shakespeare’s “Julius Caesar” (Part 5)

    Wes & Erin continue their discussion of Shakespeare’s “Julius Caesar,” and its sustained reflection on how political power is constructed, located, and legitimated. Upcoming Episodes: “Amadeus,” Susan Sontag’s “On Photography.” Pre-order Erin’s forthcoming book “Avail” here: http://subtextpodcast.com/avail For bonus content, become a paid subscriber at Patreon or directly on the Apple Podcasts app. Patreon subscribers also get early access to ad-free regular episodes. Also from Wes: Curtain Times, a calendar of Boston theatre, classical, talks and readings. Follow: Twitter | Facebook | Website Transcript 0:19 Erin: or@patreon.com. 0:32 Wes: Okay. Welcome to part five of our six part series. Right. Is that right? 0:37 Erin: I thought it was part V. 0:42 Wes: Part V, Sorry. Of our six part series on Julius Caesar. Shakespeare's Julius Caesar. So I think we only. How long does a play take to perform? 3 hours. 2 to 3 hours. Anyway, so we'll have a little more than doubled actual performance time. But anyway, I enjoy it. I hope the listeners enjoy it. I hope you enjoy it. So in the spirit of taking your time, we're actually going to back up a little bit. We've gotten to the cusp of Antony's entrance. But I think before that, you wanted to say something about a line a little bit earlier. Fly not, stand still, ambition's debt is paid. Which is what Brutus, in a rather naive way, says to the people who just witnessed this horrific murder. 1:28 Erin: Just as I was reviewing yesterday, that line stuck out to me. And I thought, did we give this the attention it deserves? Because I think it's an interesting idea. The sort of bank account analogy. 1:38 Wes: Right. 1:39 Erin: And if ambition implies that Caesar felt that he was above other men, or sort of more than a man setting himself above his fellow Romans, then would the debt even be paid by his murder? I mean, we're sort of going to discover that it's not that the implications of this are going to be result in a big battle. And also that Caesar isn't even really dead. He's not dead, sort of figuratively. And also his ghost will show up, of course. But I thought this was a sort of interesting framing of the murder as a mere settling of accounts or a kind of moral math that Brutus seems to want to explain away in this easy analogy that. Okay, we've taken care of it now, so it's all going to be okay. And yeah, I mean, maybe just your word, which I like quite a bit. His naivete is really on display here. But I think this kind of posture that he has going into the two speeches is illustrative of his cast of mind. You know, I think in parts past I've made reference to this idea of scale that's repeatedly invoked with Caesar. And here we have an interesting nod to that. Are all thy conquests, glories, triumphs, spoils, shrunk to this little measure? I mean, first of all, there's this list of four thing that Anthony came, keeps doing, right? His servant comes in and gives four adjectives to Brutus and four adjectives to Caesar. And then here we have conquest, glories, triumphs, spoils. And he goes on, fare thee well, I know not, gentlemen, what you intend. Who else must be let blood, who else is rank. So my note in my edition has this interesting gloss on rank, corrupt with the second sense of grown too large and thus in need of cutting, either to release diseased blood or to reduce in size. So Antony's doing this clever thing here where we have this list which sort of contains within it all of Caesar's glory. Then this idea that it's shrunk down to just Caesar's body. And then also he, with the metaphor or with the turn of phrase, gives a nod to Brutus, as though what he's done is a sort of appropriate culling or it could be seen that way. Right? So he's being very ambiguous, I think, from the get go, even as he's seemingly straightforwardly lamenting Caesar's body. 3:59 Wes: Yeah, who else's rank is a pun on rank, as in rotten or diseased. And then who else's rank has become too powerful, right? And the idea is that Caesar's ambition and his acquisition of too much power is almost like a disease and even to the point of being unnatural, as we've said before. So bloodletting is the way to deal with this disease and also the only way to Deal with power. So that's. Yeah, it's nicely ambiguous because it leaves him uncommitted, as he is going to be uncommitted to one side or another. In a sense, through this speech, he's going to have to convince them that he's not against them and that he's. Without simply repudiating Caesar outright, which would make him look not credible. So if he were merely even just worried about his credibility and convincing these people that he's not a threat, he can't go too hard on that. I didn't care about Caesar. He can't do that. So he's got to express an appropriate amount of distress over the death of Caesar, but some curiosity about. Well, maybe there was something I didn't see that warranted this. So why don't you guys fill me in that kind of approach. 5:22 Erin: I wonder if I'm wrong to see a little bit later, no instrument of half that worth, as though your swords made rich with the most noble blood of all this world. I wonder if I'm wrong there to see some idea of ink. Right. I feel like with Caesar's blood, ink is being repeatedly invoked. And the idea that the sword is being stuck. The sword, like the pen, is being stuck in the blood. It just reminds me, with their hands being wet, he's shortly going to like, grasp all of their hands. That hasn't happened yet, right? He hasn't greeted them. No, because he just came on, you know, he'll ask them to render their bloody hands. Reminds me of Sonnet 111, the dyer's hand, where you become stained with the ink of. When you're a writer, your fingers become stained with the ink. The idea that it will shortly come up with these two competing speeches of authorship, I think is being invoked. Who is going to spin this? Who is going to write this story in a way which is satisfactory to us, the audience, to the crowd within the play? And I think that already ambition's debt is paid, which makes assumptions or sort of like closes down metaphorical interpretations or possibilities on the Brutus side is not going to be able to withstand that ambiguous meaning in Antony's turn of phrase with the excellence of his writing. W R I T I N g the situation in these incredibly rich, multivalent moments when he talks to them. So it's, you know, so I keep seeing the pen or the ink and the interpretation of that as being some sort of statement about who's going to have the upper hand rhetorically, who's going to write this in the proper way or in the acceptable way that other people will determine is the correct interpretation, regardless of the actual crime or whether or not it was justified. It's sort of about the spin or the act of playwriting itself. 7:22 Wes: Yeah, very good. In a way, it's a riposte to Cassius, even though he wasn't there for that remark, but for the remark about ages hence, the enactment, the reenactment of the scene ages hence. And again, it leaves open who that reenactment is going to cast as the villain and as the hero. And I think in Shakespeare's case, he's agnostic. The play treats this as agnostic. Was it the right thing to kill Caesar? Wasn't it? It's just treated as a problematic. It doesn't try to resolve that problematic. I think some scholars would try to come down as if he's pro Caesar, pro Brutus. I think that's a fool's errand to try to do that. But this raises the question of whose story will be told in the end. He calls them the choice and master spirits of this age. At the end of his speech, he's telling them, kill me if you need to. It would be an honorable death to die here, near Caesar. If that's what you want, just do it. Even though they've already assured him through the servant that they're not. Then he gives them this compliment, which is that they've done something which is age defining. It makes it a conquest in a way, just like one of Caesar's conquests. And that's the standard of values that elevates Caesar, right power and conquest and glory and all those things. And it offers to them the same sort of accolade. But of course, the problem is that that's the thing that they're supposed to reject. So he's complimenting them. And he's not saying, you are the defenders of liberty against the whole ethos of power and conquest. You are master spirits, which I may. You know, it's a little bit of a reach for me to read that as. But that's the way I read it. And then Brutus is such a nice guy. Beg not your death of us, Antony. We're not going to do that. Cassius wanted to kill you, not me. Our hearts, you see, not they are pitiful. And pity to the general wrong of Rome. As fires drive out fire. So pity, pity, you know, so pity for the public good had to made them pitiless towards Caesar. 9:29 Erin: I love that, you know, pity the abstract concept killed Caesar. 9:33 Wes: Yeah. 9:33 Erin: And also this. This. The splitting, I think, which I also. Again, I'm not sure if that's the right word, but the atomizing that Brutus always does between his thoughts and his body or of the parts of his body. So here, you know, his hands are stained with blood. But then it's not as in Sonnet 111, almost thence my nature is subdued to what it works in, like the dyer's hand. Rather than taking ownership over this, it's as though he's divorcing the bloody hand from himself. He's not accepting the bloodiness of the business, even as they are dripping with this blood. And I think it's. Again, I just want to mention that there's an element of this which loses its power when we read it. It versus seeing it on stage. They literally are covered in blood. And when they shake Antony's hand, he then gets stained with the same blood. So I think the contrast between what they're saying and what it actually looks like on stage, that power is, you know, I don't want that to be lost in our conversation. 10:33 Wes: Brutus loves Caesar. When he struck him, I doubt not of your wisdom, says Antony, let each man render me his bloody hand. And then he shakes hands with each conspirator and names them by name. Which reminds me a little bit, I think. Well, when Brutus greets the conspirators in his home, doesn't he name everyone by name? And then when Caesar greets people when they go to visit them, he names everyone by name. 10:55 Erin: That's right. Yeah. I think I had that as he greets, I think as part of the list of things that united Brutus and Caesar. But then Antony does it too. So, yeah, it's a threesome. 11:07 Wes: I don't know what to make of that, but it's an interesting way to. In a way to establish trust or ingratiate himself with everyone on an individual level rather than just speaking generically to the crowd. 11:21 Erin: Well, it gives us the opportunity to hear the name Cinna, which will come up later, and which is also, of course, a great pun on sinner, which I think is part of the reason why that character in particular is. Maybe that's in Plutarch. Cinna the poet. I'm not sure. 11:36 Wes: I think it is. 11:38 Erin: Okay, well, then even more perfect. I mean, these things really write themselves. But. 11:43 Wes: Well, actually, maybe. I'm not sure, actually, now that I think about it. 11:46 Erin: But anyway, yeah, but it's also, of 11:49 Wes: course, a lot of this is in Plutarch, including the bloody hands and let's daub ourselves in blood. And then. Yeah, a lot of this. He follows it very closely. But. 11:57 Erin: Yeah, well, and the shaking hands and saying people's names, it seems to me to be redoing or a doing in a different way or doing to its full. The non oath oath scene that Brutus enacts with the conspirators early on, you know, which I was assuming was a blood oath. Right. So here it seems like that is being toyed with, ironically, that it's not their blood, but still there's some sort of blood oath being enacted here. 12:25 Wes: It's almost as if he just loses awareness. He goes off into a reverie in the movie. Marlon Brando does a good job of this. You know, just kind of drifting off into this. These comments about Caesar as if the others aren't there. I mean, ultimately Cassius is gonna say, Mark Antony, what's going on? But, you know, I did love thee, Caesar. Oh, tis true. If then thy spirit look upon us now, shall it not grieve thee dearer than my death to see thy Antony making his peace, shaking the bloody fingers of thy foe? I think, importantly, I don't think it's not pegged as an aside. Right. So we don't just get the idea that the others can't hear him, but we do get a bit of an idea that he's talking to himself absentmindedly with the others hearing this, I certainly don't think. And maybe I'm just influenced by the film rendition of this. He's not talking to them, he's talking to the body and almost losing. Losing sight of the others around him. And then he wants to ask, for reasons, Brutus kind of postpones that, says we will eventually. And then I think he sets up the funeral oration and Cassius doesn't want to let him do that, which is very correct. And then Brutus sets these conditions. You're not going to blame us. And you'll say, we, it's with our permission. And then all exit. And then he gives this more famous speech lamenting Caesar. Oh, pardon me, thou bleeding piece of earth. This is around 250something in mine bleeding piece of earth. What do you make of that? That is such an odd phrase. I wonder if it would have sounded as odd to an Elizabethan. 14:10 Erin: I don't know what that's supposed to emphasize. The way in which he's been brought low in death and his oneness with humanity or with the earth. Antony, when everybody else was still there, does again, this thing with Scale, where he describes Caesar as being the stag. So it's sort of upends that. That initial image from the very beginning of the play of Caesar being a falcon here, he's the wounded one, he's the hunted one. But he says, oh, world, thou wast the forest to this heart, and this indeed, O world, the heart of thee. There's a telescopic quality to that. The whole world is just in his heart. The world was his forest to play in. But then also he has a world within himself. Hart H A R T and Hart H E A R T, of course, are being played with there as well. So now that worldness, or that sense of the whole world being contained within him, that's being turned inside out here and now he's like a clod of earth. So I'm not sure if that's supposed to signal something grand about him or something about the pathos of him being brought so low here. Probably both. 15:17 Wes: Yeah. It's a kind of recapitulation of the whole. Has all your glory and conquest come to this? And here, this great spirit is now inanimate. This use of the word earth to get at the fact of an inanimate physical body. It's ashes to ashes, dusted dust and all that. But. 15:37 Erin: But also a whole. Like a. Like a piece of earth. 15:40 Wes: Yeah. 15:40 Erin: You know, I mean, that would be capital E. Right. 15:42 Wes: But part of the world, piece of piece of earth is in the planet. 15:46 Erin: Right. 15:46 Wes: Interesting. Yeah. 15:48 Erin: I mean, I don't know if you can get to that reading, but I think it's. But since he's just been talking. 15:52 Wes: Well, yeah, it's a possible. Interesting double entendre. 15:55 Erin: Yeah, right. 15:55 Wes: That I. That hadn't occurred to me. 15:57 Erin: Well, I think the same thing is happening with, you know, the wounds where Anthony said, if I had as many eyes as he had wounds, had I as many eyes as thou hast wounds, weeping as fast as they stream forth thy blood, it would be better. It would become me better than to close in terms of friendship with thine enemies. And then here they become mouths, he says, like dumb mouths do ope their ruby lips to beg the voice and utterance of my tongue. So there's also. There's a. There's like a multiplicity, multiple sets of eyes. And then it's as if their mouths crying out for justice, but then they beg the voice and utterance of my tongue. So again, it comes back to Antony. So there's this. It starts in Caesar's body, it becomes multiple, like a crowd. And Then it ends in Anthony's body. So something like that seems to be happening with this idea of scale, too, with the earth or a piece of dirt, you know, like, I don't know how to work that out exactly, but it seems that telescoping is happening here. 16:58 Wes: This wounds is mouths metaphor, by the way, is one that Shakespeare uses in several plays, including Richard iii. Henry's wounds open their congealed mouths and bleed afresh. 17:09 Erin: Oh, yeah, that's a great line. 17:11 Wes: Wow. And then it's in Macbeth as well. I was looking at AI to figure out all the places where this happens, and it didn't give me Macbeth at first. And I had said, doesn't that happen in Macbeth? Macbeth, yeah. 17:23 Erin: Isn't it that they cry for vengeance? The wounds, Duncan's wounds. 17:28 Wes: They may. There's a point. It happens in different places. There's one where Duncan's wounds speak for themselves. Do not bid me speak. See? And then speak. And then speak yourselves so that the wounds speak for themselves. But I think there's more. I think there's more places. Anyway. I just vaguely remember that. That it's in several plays that he uses this idea that I find kind of gross, actually. The ruby lips. 17:58 Erin: Right. Well, I think it's great. It's obviously quite something I was hinting at before with the Portia scene. It's also obviously quite suggestive of Caesar being made feminine by falling in this way. There's an interesting reading there, which. Which maybe is a little too obvious to go into, but the other thing it makes me think of. I'm writing a book right now, which is. A lot of it is about Tudor portraiture. And I can't not think of the rainbow portrait of Elizabeth I in which she wears a gown which has all over it human eyes and ears, which is a little creepy. You know, sort of embroidered on her. On her gown. And I think the idea is that she's. As the monarch, she sees and hears every everything or everything ultimately gets back to her in this godlike way. 18:45 Wes: And they're real eyes and ears. Right. 18:48 Erin: And I think. I think coming out, she was a cruel one. 18:51 Wes: Sorry. No, it's just a joke. My fantasy about realizing ears as if she were part of a tribe in 18:58 Erin: the heart of darkness. Yes. These are her trophies. No, I think this coming out of that same moment. I mean, 1600. Yeah. So it's literally a year later, this rainbow portrait comes out. That's nearly the same moment. Right. Because this is 1599. Caesar. I don't know. It's an interesting invocation there of this, of being covered in sense organs. 19:27 Wes: Anyway, you know, it's interesting here because it's not like the wounds speak for themselves in this case. Although he will try to display the corpse. I mean, he will display the corpse ultimately to the crowd, which is very important. Important. And another one of Brutus's mistakes to let him do that. But Caesar needs someone to speak for him. And the best that the wounds can do is to open their mouth to beg for Antony's voice. Antony must speak on Caesar's behalf. And then he works up, you know, he gets worked up into this prophecy of civil strife. So at this point, we know, you know, we kind of get a climax here where we realize, okay, you know, this is. Antony is faking it with the others. He's really out for blood. So shall in these confines with a monarch's voice, cry havoc. And let slip the dogs of war at this foul deed shall smell above the earth with carrion men groaning for burial. Wow. Carrion men groaning for burial. Are they dead or not, Antony? They can't be rotting if they're still alive. Yeah. Carrying men groaning for burial. There's a speech that's kind of similar in Henry V. And for some reason I would always get this mixed up. And when I hear let's slip the dogs of war, I would associate that with Henry V. But another great let's go to war, rah, rah, rah speech. We move into the speeches, right? This is where we really want to. We want to cover these wonderful funeral speeches or Brutus. One's a funeral speech and the other is like, did I do that? 21:10 Erin: Yeah. A part that's maybe easily glossed over that just makes me laugh so hard is when Brutus. So Brutus is giving one speech, but Cassius is elsewhere giving another one. We're not privy to that one. 21:22 Wes: Yeah, that's another interesting thing. 21:24 Erin: You know, Cassius, go you into the other street and part the numbers. Those that will hear me speak, let him stay here. Those that will follow Cassius, go with him. Cassius will be in ballroom B. 21:36 Wes: And they're going to be very, very different speeches because he and Cassius are so different and they have different agendas. If I were Brutus, I would not trust Cassius to be going along with his plan. I wouldn't. Cassius, in a way, has a different plan. A more realistic. 21:51 Erin: Yeah. And then we hear public reasons shall be rendered of Caesar's death. And then we get the crowd in a moment of Brutus's fantasy wish fulfillment, actually deciding, like, I'm gonna go here and listen to this one. You go there, listen to that one, and then we're gonna compare the one moment where the crowd is what Brutus would wish, some sort of logic police, and then forget it after the. That. 22:17 Wes: Yeah. So Brutus's speech, which I guess is reputed to be the rational, logical speech. Romans, countrymen and lovers, not friends, what is it for Anthony? Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ear, your ears, your ear. So hear me for my cause and be silent that you may hear and believe me for mine honor. All right, so as Anthony is listening to this, this is the little key phrase, believe me for mine honor. And then the implication. I don't know if he says it directly here, but it's said before, right? I killed Caesar for his ambition. Ambition versus honor. And as we've discussed over these parts, the question is, can we ground authority in some character trait of an individual or does it have to be grounded in institutions? Does it have to be grounded in some sort of. Of institutional or discursive process? Whatever goes on, right from our standpoint, from Brutus's standpoint in the republic, which is really more about guarding the rights of the aristocracy, but for our purposes, some sort of representative government or liberal democracy where the public good is balanced against the rights of individuals and all that good stuff. So we tend to think of authority as grounded in principles, in a constitution and a form, in a process. And here the question is, well, can it be grounded in the prowess of Caesar and his greatness, in all his glorious conquests and things like that? And that's what Brutus rejects. But when he says, believe me, for mine honor, that's a real slip. Because if he's to believed for his honor, then why shouldn't Caesar be made king for his prowess? So I just wanted to call attention to that, claiming that he loves Caesar, but he did it because he loves Rome more and he was interested in being free. By the way. Yeah, Brutus's letters that we have to Cicero are very much like this, except Brutus is not as placid. He's quite in the historical Brutus, at least as far as those letters make him look. Look, he is pretty harsh and hardcore about liberty and absolutely not compromising, not going to give the okay to Octavian, even if Octavian at that point has become an opponent of Anthony. But yeah, this focus on liberty and the public good, that is very much the historical Brutus. And then the result of that. So whether or not we see his speech is very rhetorically effective. The crowd is pretty easily won over. Let him be Caesar. Caesar's better part shall be crowned in Brutus. So, again, the really anachronistic double entendre on Caesar as being synonymous with king, as it will later be. So let him be Caesar is almost let him be king, but in a less anachronistic, more literal sense. Is he to become. Is he just a replacement for this particular individual, which is suggestive of that previous slip where let honor but prowess be honor is honor. Prowess, prowess, honor. And I think Antony very skillfully picks up on all these things, because honor. He's going to repeat it enough times where it just looks like the same thing, the same sort of authoritarian bent, grounding in some quality of an individual as with Caesar. So Brutus betrays himself in a way, in this, and Antony seizes on it. 26:03 Erin: I think the proudest moment of my life was when I read this for the first time as a little kid and immediately was like, wait a minute. Believe me, for mine honor, and have respect to mine honor, that you may believe that doesn't work. I was so proud of myself for realizing that that was circular logic. 26:19 Wes: It's like when people say, trust me, 26:20 Erin: trust me, trust me. 26:22 Wes: Yeah, because you said it. I'm supposed to trust you because you said, like, you're trustworthy because you said the word trust. 26:28 Erin: And now that you're invoking trust, I feel more distrustful than ever. 26:31 Wes: Yeah, yeah. 26:33 Erin: Just to say when the plebeians say, let him be Caesar, and then Caesar's better parts shall be crowned in Brutus. Yeah. I love your emphasis on this idea that they're already conceptualizing the role of Caesar, but also the implication, you know, Caesar's better parts shall be crowned in Brutus. Is that murder. We call it assassination. Whatever. Whatever word you want to ascribe has made him a fitter ruler than Caesar. Right. Because he. Because he ends his speech by saying with this. I depart that as I slew my best lover for the good of Rome, I have the same dagger for myself when I. It shall please my country to need my death. First of all, he's the judge over Caesar and himself as to whether or not he gets too big for his britches and he's going to have the wherewithal to take care of it himself if ever the need should arise. But also that there's this economy of death inherent in Brutus's action that. Like a shrub being sculpted or something. You know, the republic is ever kind of Growing out of control. And only by killing people you know, will you ensure that it stays contained and shaped in the way that you want to do. That's not a very good metaphor, but you know what I mean. Like, you're constantly hacking out the weeds. That's a better one. And this ideal of the republic is somehow only sustained through this idea of death or killing the thing which might. Which might grow too large. It's an autocratic kind of logic. No, he's going to be the one who gets his hands dirty and. And make swift work of whoever might be standing in the way according to who he thinks deserves it. 28:15 Wes: This is the problem with revolution, right? The state has become lawless, but the rebels must be lawless in order to rectify it. And then the question is whether law can be restored after a revolution, and that. The track record for that is not very good, unfortunately. But then, yeah, we get with Antony. Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears. It's an interesting variation on Brutus first line. So lovers gets replaced with friends, and then friends goes to the front of the line. Lovers. I don't know what Brutus means by lovers. Lovers of the country. Lovers of. It must be lovers of. 28:56 Erin: I think it just means friends. 28:58 Wes: I mean, it could be. Yeah, yeah. I mean, that occurred to me. But our contemporary association with lovers know, makes it sound weird in that context, but that's possible. But I was thinking possibly he meant love of lovers of Rome as well. But anyway, friends comes to the front of the line. Romans and countrymen go next. We remember Brutus, right? It was all about Roman identity. That's why you don't need an oath if you're Roman. Antony privileges relationships above identity, loyalty. And so I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him. Another great line. Wow. 29:37 Erin: And I've brought my shovel. 29:38 Wes: Yeah, he's going to be burying the Brutus and the conspirators. That's who he's going to be bearing. The noble Brutus hath told you Caesar was ambitious. If it were so, it was a grievous fault. And grievously hath Caesar answered it here under leave of Brutus and the rest. For Brutus is an honorable man. So are they all. All honorable men. Come I to speak in Caesar's funeral. Do you want to read some of this? I feel like I'm just. I think we should read all of it, but I feel guilty. If I'm going to be the one, you do a better job anyway, so. 30:16 Erin: He was my friend, faithful and just to me. But Brutus says he was ambitious, and Brutus is an honorable man. Man, I'm already being too. I'm already giving away the game here. He hath brought many captives home. 30:28 Wes: But do you use your most sarcastic voice? 30:32 Erin: Well, I want to save the sarcasm. I want to ramp up the sarcasm. 30:35 Wes: Honorable, put the honorable. Honorable man. Yeah. 30:39 Erin: Stage direction here says he hath used inverted commas with his hands. He hath brought many captives home to Rome, whose ransoms did the general coffers fill? Did this in Caesar seem ambitious? When that the poor have cried, Caesar hath wept. Ambition should be made of sterner stuff. Yet Brutus says he was ambitious, and Brutus is an honorable man. 31:04 Wes: Good pause. Good pause. Keep going. I'm not gonna try to pronounce lupercal or no lupercal. 31:13 Erin: That is it. No, I was just wondering if. If I had something to say about that. It was pretty straightforward. You all did see that on the lupercal, I thrice presented him a kingly crown, which he did thrice refuse. Was this ambition? Yet Brutus says he was ambitious. And sure, he is an honorable man. 31:31 Wes: He's an honorable man. Sure, sure. 31:33 Erin: I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke, but here I am to speak what I do know. You all did love him once, not without cause. What cause withholds you then to mourn for him? O judgment, Thou art fled to brutish beasts, and men have lost their reason. Bear with me. My heart is in the coffin there with Caesar, and I must pause till it comes back to me. See, this is. I used to do dramatic readings of this for my eighth graders. Forgive me. 32:01 Wes: I'm. 32:02 Erin: I go for the obvious with. With them. 32:05 Wes: Marlon branded is a really good. Good rendition of that last part because he gets a bit verklempt, and he just kind of turns away. Bear with me. 32:12 Erin: Yeah, bear with me. 32:13 Wes: My heart is in the coffin. How does the coffin. Wait. He wasn't the godfather at that point. What am I doing? 32:21 Erin: Caesar could have been a kid. 32:22 Wes: He made him enough. He couldn't. Yeah. So great. So, yeah, he really boils the frog here and just turns it up, you know? Gradually. Gradually, the irony becomes apparent. And this transformation of the world. Word honorable, in a sense, into its opposite, or at least into something malign and maybe something synonymous with ambition. 32:49 Erin: Well, again, having the body displayed there, it's so reminiscent to me of, say, Jackie Kennedy wearing the pink suit and making sure that everybody could see what had been done to jfk, you know, so there's this, you know, what he's saying in the speech is also being bolstered visually. And so we have, again, the contrast between this ravaged corpse and this idea of honor. And it exposes, as we've already been discussing, circular logic involved in just deciding that you're honorable and therefore anything you do is going to be full of honor. Here we have the actual result of an action up against the appellation that one has given oneself. 33:33 Wes: Yeah, Brutus, in a way, this is almost like a reductio in mathematics. Reductio ad absurdum. Because Brutus's claim is, because I am honorable, what I have done must have been the right thing. Antony takes this and suggests that if it's not the right thing, then Brutus is not honorable. And then we hear about why it's not the right thing, because was it ambition? He gives some evidence that Caesar was not as ambitious as Brutus says he was. And then. So this redounds back to Brutus's supposed honor. So he approaches this more empirically. What's the evidence for or against ambition? Brutus, as we know, didn't really do that, even though. Right. He says it's. I don't. I haven't seen any true signs yet. But he's like serpent and his egg. And we gotta nip it in the bud to mix two metaphors. Nip that egg in the bud. Anyway, Brutus's idea is that he sees signs of what will inevitably develop into tyranny. And I suppose you could say you've seen ambition. The ambition is just one of the warning signs. But we don't hear him wrestle with the contrary evidence so much. It's just obvious. I think historically it is obvious. I don't think there's any question that. What was going on with Caesar, by the way? That Caesar was becoming a tyrant and the big. He crossed a huge line when he basically stripped those tribunes of their titles. That was kind of like, okay, this is like Trump not listening to the Supreme Court or something like that, or decimating some institution which was seen as inviolable from the standpoint of people who cared about the republic. 35:19 Erin: Yeah, I have to say, my hyperbolic love of Caesar is diminished of late. It doesn't seem as funny to argue for Caesar anymore. The first remark of the crowd after this long opening part of Antony's speech is, we get the stage direction. He weeps. I don't know if you have that in your edition. You know, his heart is in the coffin there with Caesar. And then the first thing that A plebeian says is me thinks there is much reason in his sayings, which is really funny. You know, the first. The first place they go is reason. Right. He's broken off to cry. 35:58 Wes: And, yeah, he's given this speech which is full of pathos and ethos. And the crowd is supposedly focusing on the rationale part, but of course they aren't because they're so fickle, right? They're just, well, let's make Brutus Caesar. Now it's like, Caesar was a tyrant. Good riddance. And now it's, oh, right, yeah, it's Brutus who's the bad guy. 36:23 Erin: That's right. Yeah. And I think while we're on the pathos ethos line, that was one of the things that I would talk about with my students is like, okay, what's the dominant appeal in Brutus speech? Is it logo or is it ethos? And ethos? On what grounds? So, yeah, I like that. Right now is the moment of highest pathos. And the crowd goes to logos. It was funny. 36:43 Wes: But yesterday, the word of Caesar might have stood against the world. Now lies he here, and none so poor to do him reverence. O masters, if I were disposed to stir your hearts and minds to mutiny and rage, I should do Brutus wrong and Cassius wrong, who you all know are honorable men. 37:01 Erin: Men. 37:02 Wes: I will not do them wrong. I rather choose to wrong the dead, to wrong myself and you, than I will wrong such honorable men. But there's a parchment with the seal of Caesar. I found it in his closet. Tis his will. So then this movement to the will, which is in Plutarch, Right? So it's not. I don't know. There's something anticlimactic about it for me, this whole reading of the will to kind of finally win the crowd over. Oh, he gave you his public gardens or this or that. But again, Shakespeare is following Plutarch as best he can. 37:37 Erin: What is this about, really? It's such a curious prop because, as you've been talking about Caesar's will, the other sense of will, one of many, but is the thing that maybe hangs him or the thing that condemns him. And then we have this physical document, the contents of which are unknown to us, actually. Right in the play. I mean, we have to take Anthony's word for it that his will was honorable all along, was about the people all along. Was not autocratic. Was. Whatever. I don't know. It's weird. It's like Chekhov's gun, but the opposite, because it hasn't Been hanging on the wall the whole time. It's just sort of pulled out of the back pocket. And we know we don't have a way of seeing it. We don't have any corroboration. We just have to take Antony's word for it. And really he could be pulling out a document that has nothing on it or wing dings or something. You know what I'm saying? 38:32 Wes: I do think he has it retrieved. I can't remember if that's in the Plutarch or in the play, but he sends someone to retrieve it. But the crowd can't though. But yeah, I like this double entendre and will that you're pointing out because it. Right. The gardens and whatever monies he's dispersing. That ought to be a matter of form, the governmental form and institutions working the way they should. Is it in the public good? Not a bribe from a populist autocrat. He can be an autocrat and a populist at the same time. And he was a populist. He was part of the. I think it was the populi that was the party. And Brutus was in the conservative camp. What were they called? I forget the name. But anyway, yeah, he was a populist in a sense. But it shouldn't be a matter of his will, his personal will and the largesse that he happens to want to give the people. That shouldn't be. Why? What determines what do they get? What's due to them? 39:31 Erin: Well, I just want to say one almost thinks of. Because of this heart, the stag and the idea that the world is his forest. Suddenly I'm thinking of Wyatt. Right. So anything you kill is actually the king's. Is owned by the king. And he's giving this public land to them out of his largess. And yet was it his to give? I assume it was. And yet there's something. I don't know. I'm not putting this very well or tying it together, but like there's something sort of inherently like, I'm giving you this, but also anything on it still belongs to me. And. And it's my world. You're just living in it. That kind of quality. 40:09 Wes: Right. Antony doesn't get to the will immediately. So we get some more awesome speechifying. First. See what a rent the envious Casca made. Through this the well beloved Brutus stabbed. And as he plucked his cursed steel away, mark how the blood of Caesar followed it as rushing out of doors to be resolved if Brutus so unkindly knocked. Or knocked. Wow. What an image. What a sad, sad image. For Brutus, as you know, was Caesar's angel. Judge, O you gods, how dearly Caesar loved him. This was the most unkindest cut of all. Most unkindest. What? What? Shakespeare. He's trying to fill out a syllable with a double comparative, or whatever you call it. For when the noble Caesar saw him stab ingratitude more strong than traitor's arms, quite vanquished him, then burst his mighty heart, and in his mantle, muffling up his face, even at the base of Pompey's statue, which all the while ran blood, great Caesar fell. Oh, what a fall was there, my countrymen. Then I and you and all of us fell down, whilst bloody treason flourished over us. Oh, now you weep. And I perceive you feel the dint of pity. These are gracious drops. Kind souls. What weep you when you but behold our Caesar's vesture wounded? Look you here. Here is himself marred, as you see, with traitors. And then he uncovers the body so they just. The right. So all this is happening. You know, they can only see him covered. And I guess there's. I guess he's covered in his own toga. And then. So you can see the blood and you can see the rents. I don't know exactly how it works. 41:59 Erin: If it's just a mantle is over him. So maybe it's a mantle. Yeah. And he's sort of lifting it up and describing what he's seeing to them, maybe, and then pulls it off. That's how I imagine it. 42:12 Wes: I mean, you would have a cloak. A cloak of some sort, which is what I'm thinking the mantle is. But I don't know. I think in the movie, I might be influenced by the movie, which is kind of the way. Way that goes. And then the final thing, which I think we ought to read is maybe that last Good friend, sweet friends. Do you want to read that one? 42:31 Erin: Yeah. Before we do, I just want to say, too, that then you and I and all of us fell down. Right. Again, we have this idea that, like Caesar is all of us, or we're all contained within him. And then we get this wound and eye, tears and blood. Parallels comes to fruition here, where he's inciting the crowd to cry over the wounds by making them sort of identify with the body as if this was done, as if Brutus was their own assassin. Yeah. So then Antony goes on. Good friends, sweet friends, let me not stir you up to such a sudden flood of mutiny. They that have done this deed are honorable. What private griefs they have, alas, I know not, that made them do it. They are wise and honorable and will, no doubt with reasons answer you. I come not, friends, to steal away your hearts. I am no orator, as Brutus is, but as you know me all, a plain, blunt man that love my friend and that they know full well, that gave me public leave to speak of him. 43:28 Wes: Diana, I'm just a simple southern lawyer. I don't know your big city ways. 43:41 Erin: Sorry. 43:42 Wes: Go ahead. 43:42 Erin: Pretty good. For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth, action, nor utterance, nor the power of speech to stir man's blood. I only speak. Right on, right on, right on. I tell you that which you yourselves do know. Show you sweet Caesar's wounds, poor, poor dumb mouths, and bid them speak for me. But were I Brutus, and Brutus Antony, there. were an Antony would ruffle up your spirits and put a tongue in every wound of Caesar that should move the stones of Rome to rise and mutiny. 44:15 Wes: Yeah. There's some interesting reversals here, because he. Right, we remember that he was supposed to speak for Caesar's wounds, and now they're going to speak for him. You know, it's like the whole speak for themselves thing in Macbeth. And then the other thing is we get an echo of Cassius saying, if I were Brutus, and Brutus, Cassius, I would not trust me. And here he's saying, if I were Brutus, if I were such a great orator, I'd put a tongue in every one of these wounds. 44:48 Erin: I would speak against myself better than I'm doing now to speak against him. Yeah. Brutus is like. Yeah. In the same way that Caesar is being used constantly as proxy for the whole world. He's. He's spread out. He's. You know, everyone is sort of like, imbued with the spirit of Caesar, or everybody makes up the body that is Caesar. Brutus is similarly, I think, used as this. You know, he's like this inert corpse that various people want to possess. 45:17 Wes: So it's wwbd. If I were Brutus, I wouldn't. Trust me. If I were Brutus, I would. Yeah, yeah. It's weird. Yeah, it is weird. This identity thing. 45:31 Erin: Well, there's a puppet show quality to it, you know, that's the only way I can. It's the metaphor that occurs to me who is going to. Especially because of the difficulty, as you're suggesting, of being able to pin down whether or not something is right or wrong. As we were also talking about the deep irony of this play. Of knowing what's going to happen, of having it. Having it all sort of predetermined in this way, which is almost suggestive of prophecy or the. Or the sort of rhetorical, schoolboy, rhetorical element of this as well. Arguing one side or the other. You can either hold up the little Caesar puppet or the Antony puppet and argue that side. Or you could hold up the little Brutus puppet and it almost doesn't matter which. Like, you know, there's a. There's a. That changeable quality that seems to be emphasized. Or you could put on, you know, the same toga and call yourself Brutus or Antony or Caesar. You know, there's also that, you know, maybe that's worth emphasizing too, or worth thinking about anyway. The uniform quality of the visuals in terms of the fact that they're all wearing roughly the same costume. It's very easy to costume this play. Right. I don't know if this occurred. It'd probably be difficult because of the length of the speeches. But I wonder if in repertory productions of this, if it were common for people to switch roles occasionally or. Or, oh, tonight I'll play Brutus and you play Anthony. Might have been. Yeah. This idea of somebody just taking up a body and making that speak and say what it needs to say, that idea of Antony's happening imaginatively seems to me to be a reflection of the difficulty of the entire question. 47:08 Wes: Yeah, I like that. And there's a lot of locating the argument or the speech outside of oneself. So for Brutus, it's, what did Brutus say? It's about the public good. It's about the argument. Listen to my words, not to me in particular. But then he slips and listen to the fact that I'm an honorable man. Paralipsis is the rhetorical trick where you say something by saying that you're not going to say it or hear it, and then pretend to be humble and all that. And here he locates it. He uses these hypotheticals. Well, this is what Brutus would say in a similar circumstance. I'm not going to do that. But if I were someone else, someone else would do it in my position. What does it do? It's a different way of saying it's not about me or my opinion or my sentiment. Even though I'm conveying this through all this sentiment, it's about some other and even my enemy. It's a way of getting into the point of view of the general spectator, as the British moralists would put it, to the general other that we imagine when we're deciding questions of morality or justice. So the authority isn't personal. Once again, this question about whether authority can be grounded in something personal, including power and conquest, or whether it's got to be grounded more generally and to ground it more generally in morality, we have to appeal to law, something law like. Or we have to appeal to empathy in this broad sense of a general spectator. And you can start doing that by appealing to it should be a general spectator. But you can go down that path by appealing in a dramatic way, by appealing to the very person, the point of view of the very person who you're opposing. That's often how we get to principle. Right? Would you do that? What would you think if I did that to you with the thing that you're doing to me? 49:16 Erin: That's a great point. I love that idea. 49:18 Wes: All right, that's the end of part five of our discussion of Shakespeare's Julius Caesar. Please what do you do with podcasts now? Follow them, please. Follow us us. Maybe give us a rating, maybe even add a review on top of that. That helps us all. That helps us. But following helps a lot. If you've made it this far, immediately. Because I know you're sitting on the edge of your seat wondering what happens next? 49:47 Erin: What's going to happen next? 49:48 Wes: Who's going to win? Is it going to be an Empire or is it going to be Republic? But if not, you can wait a week and get Part six. All right, thank you, thank you. 50:04 Erin: And thanks to everyone who listened. For an easy way to do that, go to subtextpodcast.com patreon.com subtextpodcast please send your questions, feedback and episode requests to letters@subtextpodcast.com if we get enough questions, we'll do some bonus Q and A shows for subscribers. You can also find us on Facebook @subtextpodcast and on Twitter enjoysubtext. Next,

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  • February 9 · 44 min

    The Character of Authority in Shakespeare’s “Julius Caesar” (Part 4)

    Wes & Erin continue their discussion of Shakespeare’s “Julius Caesar,” and its sustained reflection on how political power is constructed, located, and legitimated. Upcoming Episodes: “Amadeus,” Susan Sontag’s “On Photography.” Pre-order Erin’s forthcoming book “Avail” here: http://subtextpodcast.com/avail For bonus content, become a paid subscriber at Patreon or directly on the Apple Podcasts app. Patreon subscribers also get early access to ad-free regular episodes. Also from Wes: Curtain Times, a calendar of Boston theatre, classical, talks and readings. Follow: Twitter | Facebook | Website Transcript 0:20 Erin: or patreon.com/subtextpodcast. 0:32 Wes: Okay, welcome to part four of our discussion of Shakespeare's Julius Caesar. We are just getting to the end of the section with the conspirators, and I just wanted to, before we move on, draw attention to Cassius's mention of superstition, because I want to get a little bit into this. Of course they're trying to figure out how to get Caesar, and Cassius is a bit worried because whether it's Caesar. Will Caesar come out to play? Maybe not for you. He is superstitious, grown of late quite from the main opinion he held once a fantasy of dreams and ceremonies. Ceremonies I take to be like religious ceremonies or something like that, but it stands in also for ceremonies of state. And later on we're going to get Calpurnia. Calpurnia will say, I've never been one to stand on ceremony, which at that point she's basically saying she's not a superstitious person either. But of course, the way we use the phrase today, we're generally thinking in terms of being formal. So this double meaning is something that Shakespeare is going to exploit in this play, the ceremony of the state apparatus and then the kinds of ceremony involved in religion and superstition, because there's a way in which the state looks Like a form of superstition and it's being socially constructed. And that same goes here for oaths as well. The fact and speech acts, right? We say, I marry. I marry you, and therefore we are married. There's something spooky about that. It's not real, Right. That's the nature of speech acts and institutions and state institutions and society in general. They're built on these speech acts. They're socially constructed. We pretend as if saying certain things makes them true. So that parallel, I think, is very important to Shakespeare because this idea that Caesar is skeptical of superstition and religion is meant to parallel the idea that he doesn't actually. Also, he doesn't respect social convention and the institutions of the state. He's all about his own power rather than in power as it's distributed in social systems. But it will turn out right. He's generally not superstitious, but he's grown superstitious of late. And Calpurnia is quite worried as well. 2:55 Erin: That's interesting because of course, Brutus conceives of Caesar's assassination as a ceremonial sacrifice to the gods. Right. And of course, Brutus is in a way sacrificing to his family gods by killing Caesar. And also, doesn't Caesar have some sort of imagined lineage that ties him back to. I mean, I know this was later made much of, but that ties him back to the gods. That ties him back to at least Aeneas, or in his own propaganda, or his family was thought to descend from Aeneas. Maybe I could be getting this wrong, but I thought he made. 3:29 Wes: I'm not sure this sort of like 3:32 Erin: Egyptian connection to, you know, I'm divine. 3:34 Wes: I mean, the Romans in general are. What's his face? Who wrote the Aeneid? 3:39 Erin: Virgil. 3:40 Wes: Virgil. He hasn't come along yet. It'll be under the reign of Augustus. Under the reign of Augustus and the boy that he writes that. So, yeah, I don't. Is that mythology? I don't know to the extent to which Virgil invented that idea that they. 3:56 Erin: I thought it was through. It is, or it's already there through Caesar's matrilineal line. But I could be wrong about that. I'm operating off of long memory. Claimed as family, the gens Julia descended from the goddess Venus through her son Aeneas. A lineage. Lineage emphasized through the mythical. Yes. His mother's family. I was right. Wow. Also connected to Mars through Romulus. 4:18 Wes: So I wonder if Virgil's picking up on that in particular. 4:21 Erin: Oh, he must be. 4:22 Wes: Since Augustus. In order to flatter Augustus and Wasn't 4:25 Erin: it Caesar's sister's son, Augustus? So that would be further strengthening his 4:31 Wes: masterfulness nephew that he adopted as his own. 4:34 Erin: Yeah. So Brutus seems to be wanting to make this sacrifice out of respect for the state and of his, as I've already suggested, this aristocratic republicanism. But Caesar too has this connection. 4:47 Wes: Yeah. So Brutus is one to stand on ceremony. In other words, he's all about the republic. But again, the question is whether is there something spooky and superstitious about that, which is not unrelated to. Is it really envy and self interest that is hypocritically presenting itself as interest in the state, the public good? That's the question that always lingers behind altruistic motives in general, but. Or an interest in the public good. I ultimately do think that there are true altruistic motives, but I think we are always posed with that question, or at least whether our motives are mixed. But I was going to take us to scene two, but that would mean skipping the Portia scene. Did you anymore. Did you have anything to say about her being in the suburbs of his good pleasure or anything else which. I love that line. 5:40 Erin: Yeah, that's great. 5:41 Wes: Before we go to scene two, I 5:43 Erin: am interested in the gender dynamics in this play. I do think they're fascinating, but also that they're not really on the central track and therefore something we won't have much time for. But I am interested in this idea that Portia accuses Brutus of treating her in this split up way and that she seems to be recognizing in him something that he's not recognizing that he's doing, even though it's all over his speech, you know, so she, she says, I'm. I'm here for you only in these certain ways. And really I'm supposed to be your whole self. I'm supposed to be united with you in this way, which is obviously extremely post Roman that she's referencing. But so she says that as a result of this not sharing his full life, but sort of being suburb ized, she is his harlot, not his wife. I thought that was an interesting. Just an interesting mirror, you know, here is Brutus's mirror, in a way, is Portia. She's sort of presenting to him this idea that he's treating her in this split way, which is in a sense of the way that he's looking at, you know, Caesar by wanting to kill his spirit rather than his body or something like that. By breaking people up into, you know, the ways that he wants to digest them. Or view them. And the wound is really interesting in that way, too, because it prefigures, obviously, the assassination and even just the. The dream of Calpurnia. But let's. Let's skip to. 7:06 Wes: Well, let me just say, before we move on. Yeah. I don't. I guess I don't Kind of. I don't quite know what Portia is doing in the play. Like, she's there in Plutarch. So that might, by itself explain it. I don't know thematically what she's doing. I think it's supposed to enhance the tragedy of all of this because she ends up dying because of what he's doing. Right. He really is kind of the tragic protagonist here. But it also highlights something that you've pointed to, which is the way in which he is closed himself off in his rumination. He's not as integrated into a dialogue with others as you might think he would be, given his interest in the Republic and that kind of. And the political. He hasn't really quite treated this as a political matter. In other words, this deliberation about whether he's going to kill Caesar in the political context of the family. She's impacted by this. She could lose him. And he hasn't paid attention to that. So he ignores that little political unit, the family. 8:16 Erin: I like that. 8:17 Wes: Which is very against principle. So maybe I do know what it's doing in the play. 8:24 Erin: Yeah. Well, you know, she becomes. In death, too. It's interesting to see his reaction, which occurs twice, or his discussion of her death, which occurs twice, which might be an error on Shakespeare's part, or it might be doing something really wonky and interestingly. 8:39 Wes: Yeah. Didn't find it very touching in the play. That's the thing. 8:43 Erin: It's not. 8:44 Wes: Yeah, well, yeah. 8:46 Erin: I mean, it's revealing in that regard. 8:48 Wes: He was supposed to be very devastated by it, historically. 8:52 Erin: Well, Brutus, the real guy, and Brutus, this guy. 8:54 Wes: Yeah. It didn't do much for me, but. Yeah. Just quickly, do you have any ideas about the wounding of the thigh and what that's supposed to do? She's trying to prove that she is capable of hearing hard truths. Right. She's got the strength to do it. So she can withstand the wound in her thigh, therefore she can withstand anything that he would communicate to her, no matter how unpleasant or terrifying, which turns out not to be true. 9:24 Erin: Yeah. 9:24 Wes: I mean, she kills herself, but yeah. 9:27 Erin: The only wound that Brutus has been interested in prior to this, other than wounding Caesar or sacrificing Caesar, is this idea of Pricking himself metaphorically in the non oath oath scene. So Portia thinks that she's appealing to him and showing some sort of manly courage by wounding herself. And in fact, I think she's hurting her argument. Because what we'll soon see, I think, with Caesar's body and what Portia should know is that the wound is a feminine symbol. Right. Brutus is all about the sword and the manliness and steeling himself with valor, as he says. And she has wounded herself to kind of show her seriousness and show that she could be just as capable as a man of whatever she imagines he accuses her of not being able to keep a secret or something, I think is part of it. And really, she misunderstands fundamentally what Brutus idea of masculinity is about, which is about wholeness rather than being wounded. But the power of that, the power of those wounds will end up being surprising and they'll end up, you know, coming back to. Literally, to haunt Brutus. Yeah. So there's something being implied here about the wound. Symbolically, it doesn't work, but she takes this, like, extreme action to prove that she's hardcore metal. And two, I think in the Brutus column, there's a wife who's trying to warn him of something or trying to help him or trying to whatever. And then there has to be the same thing in the Caesar column. So, you know, they're the only two that get wives. So since there's a Calpurnia, there has to be a Portia. This goes toward the whole. The mirroring between Brutus and Caesar idea. Yeah, I think so. I don't know. It works for me. It's an interesting scene because of that kind of gender dynamic and what that adds, the complexity that that's going to add to Caesar's wounds and the real Roman obsession that occurs throughout the play with being manly, you know, that seems to be like a big part of Roman identity. 11:36 Wes: Yeah. So in the next scene, it's a great scene between Calpurnia and Caesar. She, of course, Right. She's just had a dream about Caesar being murdered and cried out about it. And she wants to know why he's planning to go out in light of all the bad omens. And he says basically that he always faces his fears and that they will vanish. His fears will vanish when they see him. So it's not like he needs to be afraid of his fear. The fears are afraid of him. Caesar shall forth the things that threatened me Never looked back but on my back when they shall See me the face of Caesar. They have vanished. Okay, what has threatened him so? Not his fears, exactly, but what might cause fear. And then she tells us, I never stood in ceremonies, yet now they fright me. And as I've explained, there's a real double meaning there. Between the ceremony of prophecy, the people who are telling them that there are bad omens, it's a religious ceremony of a sort. And then the ceremonies of state, right? So the external trappings of offices are ceremonies. And this is something that Shakespeare harps on in many plays. You know, the rituals of kingship and the gowns of the judge, as in King Lear, what people wear. So various other rituals and forms that go. That are kind of the glue of the. Of the state. But in this case, yeah, she's saying she herself is not one to be superstitious. But in this case, she's worried. And he has this great speech, one of my favorite metaphors. Cowards die many times before their deaths. 13:19 Erin: Yes, love it. 13:21 Wes: Valiant never taste of death but once. 13:23 Erin: I have two hearts and an exclamation point. Sorry. 13:27 Wes: Of all the wonders that I have yet heard that I yet have heard it seems to me most strange that men should fear seeing that death, a necessary end, will come when it will come. So death is inevitable. Why fear it? If you fear it, in a way, you've died spiritually already. And then, true to form, he's going to interpret one of these bad omens, the missing heart of an animal, as representing the courage it would be missing if he were to stay home. So he's really putting a good face on this. And then referring to himself in the third person, he'll say he is more dangerous than danger. This is one of the sort of absolutist moments that I've been pointing out, when what Caesar says will be done. I am Caesar. And that's all you need to know. Caesar's more dangerous than danger. Fearlessness is for Caesar what honor is for Brutus, as I've pointed out before, 14:26 Erin: the way that he works. These workarounds, though, are really interesting because for one moment, he's very, l'état, c'est moi. But the one moment where he isn't is in order to justify going out where he says these predictions are to the world in general as to Caesar. So he's like, you know, why should I be worried? Because there are plenty of people in this world. It's not like these are really about me. But of course they are about him, because he is the state, which is 14:51 Wes: a dumb thing to Say, and Calpurnia has a good relationship about all of that. Right? 14:55 Erin: Right. Right. Everybody is, including Caesar, is a fan of the great man theory of history. Unless it prevents Caesar from being seen out on a nice March 15 day. 15:09 Wes: Right. Gotta go out on the ides. It's my favorite time to go out. 15:13 Erin: Gotta press the flesh. 15:14 Wes: The soothsayer already told me. But he's a dreamer. Right. We get a new omen and then some competing interpretations. Yeah. Do to. You want. Want to give that. 15:25 Erin: So Calpurnia dreamt that she saw Caesar's statue, which, like a fountain with a hundred spouts, did run pure blood. And many lusty Romans came smiling and did bathe their hands in it. And these did she apply for warnings and portents and evils imminent. And on her knee hath begged that I will stay at home today. And Decius says this dream is all a misinterpreted. It was a vision, fair and fortunate. Your statue spouting blood in many pipes, pipes in which so many smiling Romans bathed, signifies that from you great Rome shall suck reviving blood, and that great men shall press for tinctures, stains, relics and cognizance. This by Calpurnia's dream is signified. So, yeah, I think in. In part one or two, I talked a little bit about, or we both did, about this idea of interpretation being central to the play and to the whole story. And here we have this, like, really specific moment of deliberate misinterpretation or reading of this dream, which is designed to get Caesar to come out of the house. But it's, you know, same. Exact same image, completely different message taken from that. It just, you know, reminds me of Caesar's fainting, you know, from epilepsy that we talked about in parts one and two, and the varying impressions that people are getting from his behavior. For instance. 16:41 Wes: Yeah, it's interesting, you know, Caesar conceives of himself as an unmoved mover. And here flattery is going to do the job. And that's precisely what Decius said when they were conspiring. And, in fact, you just flatter him by saying he can't be flattered. But here the flattery is more about his glory and the love of Romans and what he is to Rome. Before that, when Caesar has said that he's not going to go out, he says, I will not come today. Cannot is false. And therefore. And that I dare not false her, I will not come. And then Decius says, I'm going to be laughed at if you don't give Me a cause. And Caesar says, the cause is in my will. I will not come. That is enough to satisfy the Senate. So he's an unmoved mover in the sense that he doesn't need to give explanations through his actions. It just stops with his will. And that includes his behavior is not going to be explained by fear, but it doesn't need to be explained by any other motivation as well, as far as he's concerned. And it's certainly not answerable to the public, supposedly, or to the requirements of government and the state. So he's really not answerable, in a sense, to the Senate, but he turns out to be answerable in a sense. Right, because all you have to do is he's made answerable to the flattery of others or to the love of others. And that is what moves him. I mean, ultimately, Decius also has to say, they're going to give you the crown, or they're going to think you're afraid. So he uses other elements of manipulation as well. But there's a very stark contrast between Caesar's conception of himself as an unmoved mover, but how easily, actually, he is moved. He doesn't think he's answerable to the polity, to the public, but he is answerable. Decius proves he's answerable in a different sense to the public. He's answerable to glory. 18:53 Erin: I read that a little more generously, because I think he's demonstrating in that. That he's answerable to truth. And he just has to say, well, in the end, I just won't do it. He won't lie. And that's kind of all that's left to him in that moment. When I. I turned back the page to try and find that moment, I saw a few other instances of will being used which are kind of interesting, you know, Caesar bids his servant to go ask the priest for their opinions of his success. And the servant exits, saying, I will, my lord. There are a bunch of these instances where the servants say, I will, that I just happened to see. And then, of course, when Caesar gives that great speech that you just mentioned a moment ago, and doth say that death, a necessary end, will come when it will come. You know, death's will is. Is also something to which we're all answerable. Right. He ultimately says, you know, after Decius convinces him, says, how foolish do your fears seem now, Calpurnia, I am ashamed I did yield to them. Give me my robe, for I will go. So he's ashamed he yielded to his wife's fear. And now he's willing himself to go rather than willing himself to stay or something like that. 20:01 Wes: He's afraid of being seen as fearful, then ironically. 20:05 Erin: Oh, yes, yes, certainly. But I think. No, just your reading of the word will, I think, is a really interesting one. 20:11 Wes: Yeah. Right. To say the cause is my will. Right. It becomes a little bit of a reflection on the philosophy of free will. Where to say that I freely act, does that mean it can be unmotivated? Of course. That's a nonsensical conception of what it means to freely act. To freely act is to act with reasons. But when we act with reasons, it seems like we are bound to those reasons, and in a sense, we are. But being bound to good reasons is not the same thing necessarily as being bound to some emotion or another like fear. Although we might have a good reason premised in fear. But in any case. Yeah. To say the cause is my will, well, I would say it's kind of delusional. Right. And it is kind of the authoritarian way of looking at things, par excellence. That's why in Hitler's Mein Kampf, which I've mentioned a few times on this show, it's all about will, and of course, is a bit borrowed from Nietzsche and will to power. But for the authoritarian, the concept of will becomes very, very important. The grounding of authority. Authority is no longer grounded in any other cause. It's not for the public good, it's not for this, it's not for that. It's just because I will it. The strongest will is the one that wins. And the strong man, the great leader, is the one with the strongest will. 21:38 Erin: Well, I don't want to sound like I'm supporting Hitler, but I am just. I am just saying that this is about him, whether or not he wants to go to work today. And that is often a matter of will in our own personal lives. It's not as though he's saying, will I kill you just for fun. Yeah. 21:58 Wes: But we might admit, I feel tired today, or I'm afraid because there's a bunch of people who are going to stab me. We might be able to admit that to ourselves. 22:08 Erin: That's right. I suppose I've said that interpretation is really the central idea of the play, but also will is the extent to which, to my mind, Brutus sort of wills himself into the justification for the. I mean, it's more complicated than that. But there is this idea of. I think it's about free will, in a sense. Where does the motivation come from or where does the action come from or where. In a way it's about this idea of all of this having already happened, or it being a play or it being a story that everybody already knows. In a story that everyone knows the outcome and knows what has to happen, where does the will come from? I think the play is sort of about that. So that will being behind everybody's motivations, really, it's really. It's almost an illusion. In fact, all of this has been preordained. We all know what's going to happen and it has to happen the way that it does. So I take. Yeah, that's a long way of saying I take this moment rather lightly. I think it's a comedic moment and I think we have to know it's a comedic moment because we know he has to go to work that day because he has to get stabbed. And it's really not a matter of his will at all. You know, that's kind of the fascination. 23:12 Wes: You don't think this is an attempt to illustrate an authoritarian personality like I do? You don't? 23:19 Erin: Not quite. I think it's a funny moment, you know, because he's making light of the. I mean, I think it is and it isn't. Right. It illustrates something about him just saying. Well, because I say so, certainly. But there's something light hearted about it at the same time because he's sort of struggling to come up with. 23:38 Wes: It's definitely light hearted as well. Yeah. 23:40 Erin: And ultimately it's toying with us. It's about. There's a third or fourth order motivation here, which is about him going, I'm not going to go, but we all know he has to go. So how is he. How are we going to get him to his inevitable conclusion here? It's about toying with the audience a bit and realizing that, well, he actually has no free will in the circumstance because he's inside a play or he's inside history, which has its way with him. I mean, that's rather meta. But I think a lot of that is being played with throughout the play too. So it's funny to talk about will when you're an actor on the stage in a play, which we all know the ending to, even if we haven't seen the play. Right. So there is something a bit comical. So I think ultimately the effect of that for me is it's often Caesar's pomposity or prayer tricks the pomposity, because we know that he has no free will at all in this particular circumstance. You Know, and it's, it's just about the mechanism of, of the form itself in a way that I think it exaggerates Brutus's bad. Like something about the form itself and Brutus's cogitations or self justifications or rationalizations, I should say, heightens his bad qualities. 24:51 Wes: Yeah, I mean, I don't. Yeah, I don't think. I agree. I think it's quite a negative representation of Caesar. And historically, a lot of critics, even shortly after the play came out, reacted, how dare you portray Caesar this way. But I get your point. Yeah, I think your point is well taken about. Well, I don't see Brutus as negatively as you. I think Shakespeare is trying to point to this parallel. Right. So they're both willful and in Brutus case, Brutus. And this comes out in the letters to Cicero, by the way, as well. Brutus is like, consequences be damned. I don't care about my own safety. I don't care what happens. I'm going to do what's right. That's the whole honor, virtue thing. And as I said, fearlessness is to Caesar what honor is to Brutus. Fearlessness, including all the incredible stuff he's done, like killing a million Gauls, all these feats of war that he's engaged and power and prowess. And that element of his character is supposed to ground the rightness of what he's doing. And for Brutus, it seems to be honor. You could say it's for the republic, but is it really for the republic if you're also saying consequences be damned? So motivation becomes very important here and whether one is motivated by a conception of what's right, what we call a deontological kind of motivation or a consequentialist idea, what's going to be, on a practical level, good for the republic? Maybe it's not a great idea to launch a civil war, even if not doing so will lead to Caesar having too much power. Maybe it'll be counterproductive and actually accelerate the devolution into empire. If you initiate a civil war at this point, there are all sorts of consequentialist considerations, which are the things that Brutus should have been deliberating about. But for him, it's all about honor. 26:53 Erin: Rah, rah, rah. 26:54 Wes: The Republic, consequences be damned. I'm going to do this. So it's the same. The cause in my will is actually quite a bit closer to that, to Brutus's point of view as well. And I think, yeah, Shakespeare is deliberate, deliberately drawing those parallels. But the scene ends poignantly with. It's kind of sad because all his friends show up and they have wine together, but they're really on the way to killing him. By the way, I do want to say the other thing about something just coming from one's will. It also suggests that you're beyond the causal order, which is part of the whole idea of what's natural versus unnatural. So you transcend the natural order of if your action can't be explained in terms of natural causes or motivational causes, if it just starts from your will. And that's that unnaturalness that is expressed in the storm. And that's part of the supposed unnaturalness of authoritarianism. It doesn't answer to anything. It's not a part of any causal order. 27:59 Erin: That's a really interesting idea because then how might we square this with the. There's. There's a pretense for getting close to Caesar in order to assassinate him, which is the banishment of cimber and Caesar. Caesar makes mention of this. You know, I. He says, I'm not going to be moved by, well, flattery. Right. We know, we know he can be 28:21 Wes: another unmoved mover, you know, self conception of him, you know, conception of himself as an unmoved mover. 28:26 Erin: Yeah, exactly. And he says he can't be. Uses this metaphor about hot versus cold blood, which is kind of interesting. And then he says at the end, no, Caesar doth not wrong, nor without cause will he be satisfied. He doesn't act unjustly by not allowing Cimber back. He won't let Cimber back in, pardon him without cause. But that seems to be like, what cause would he need to pardon him? That is the question. Because that seems. That idea of like, think pardoning is an interesting one because it's about the will. Right. You can only pardon someone according to. I mean, I suppose they would have to maybe do some sort of retributive. I'm sorry. They would have to do some sort of restitution to get back into good favor. So there would be something assigned to their will in order to win them. Win their place back into someone's good graces. But if they're banished, how can they do that? It's purely a matter of. Of Caesar's will as to whether or not he would let cimber back into Rome. I introduced this with the idea that this is a false excuse to get close for the conspirators to get up close to him so that they could stab him. 29:36 Wes: Yeah. So they know he's not going to say yes, of course, but it gives them all an excuse to. And by the way, Caesar doth not wrong, but with just cause. It's meant to be funny. It's a bit of a joke because you can't justly do anyone wrong. This is the thing. Ben Jonson excoriated Shakespeare for this line. And that's what I'm looking for here. I thought I had the quotation. Many times he fell into those things, could not escape laughter, as when he said, in the person of Caesar, one speaking to him, Caesar, thou dost me wrong. He replied, caesar never did wrong, but with just cause and such like which were ridiculous. But he redeemed his vices with his virtues. There was ever more in him to be praised than to be pardoned. Now, that is a very big misjudgment on Jonson's part. That's a great line. It's part of Shakespeare's genius to put in someone contradicting themselves like that. Right? 30:31 Erin: Yes. 30:32 Wes: What Caesar is trying to say, there's a double entendre on wrong. He's not going to do violence to anyone unless there's a just reason for it. Although, of course, this is kind of the paradox at the center of the justice system in general. Right. We have a right to life and liberty, but we might execute someone or put someone behind bars. And so in the context of punishment, the right goes away. Well, then how is it a right? Right. So those sorts of paradoxes arise. But in this case, yeah, this is the. I think it's a great line, and it's one that Jonson doesn't like. But he sees his lack of mercy as a virtue because he sees it as part and parcel of his incorruptibility, and even says he's not going to turn preordinance and first decree into the law of children. So he conceives of it as being in accord with the law. He's a defender of the law. The law of children is whim, and that's the law of the tyrant. The law of the child and the law of the tyrant are the same thing, which is to do things according to whim instead of actual law. But Caesar identifies, in a way his will with the law. The imperturbability of his will is the constancy that's supposed to be there in the law. But of course, that's not the way it's supposed to go. The law has to be the imperturbable thing, and the particular actor, the leader, their will doesn't matter. They're just as beholden to the laws as anyone else. So will and law form a pair here. And the locus of authority should be in the law and not in a particular person's will. And not just in the law, but in custom, in social constructs, more generally, in ceremony. In that sense, we must stand on ceremony, even if it seems spooky. 32:23 Erin: Yeah. And the will here is also to remove Cimber from the law, remove him from the order, banish him him, in other words, so that he's no longer enfranchised. So that's an interesting idea. And he says, if I could pray to move, prayers would move me. I love this, but I'm constant as a Northern Star. 32:42 Wes: It's also a great Joni Mitchell song. 32:45 Erin: Yes. 32:47 Wes: Was it a case of you? 32:48 Erin: Yes. Do not goad me. 32:51 Wes: I just cannot read that line. I don't think of Shakespeare. I think of the Joni Mitchell song. 32:56 Erin: Exactly. Yeah. I was immediately going to start doing it. Yes, I can. 33:00 Wes: I was gonna. You gotta start doing it. 33:02 Erin: Nope, nope, nope. No. 33:04 Wes: I had to stop myself just because it would be so terrible. Would I think. 33:07 Erin: There's nothing I hate listening to more than my own impressions on this stupid podcast, so I am not going to do. 33:13 Wes: You're really depriving the audience because they are. She's really good at impressions, guys, by the way, 33:23 Erin: so I can't be flattered. 33:26 Wes: That's right. You are as constant as the Northern Star, Constantly not doing impressions. 33:33 Erin: The other. Yeah. I never, ever give in. We all know it. This time I won't. All right, so everyone does shine. Everyone. Yes. Okay. So only one holds its place, and that's me. I am the still point of the turning world. 33:48 Wes: And in particular, others are movable because of fear. I think he says, again, they're apprehensive. 33:54 Erin: Men are flesh and blood and apprehensive. But I am not man. I am Caesar. 34:02 Wes: Anyway, yeah, so I feel a bit vindicated here that he's trying to portray an authoritarian person. Oh. 34:09 Erin: Oh, totally, totally. Yeah. I just met in that particular moment. I thought it was. I thought he was being kind of funny. 34:15 Wes: Yeah. 34:15 Erin: And I think that's even maybe self lampooning a little bit. I don't know. Maybe that's a bit too far. Okay. And then he gets stabbed. Didn't see that coming. What do we have to say about that? Nothing. 34:25 Wes: They all stab him. 32. 33. It's 33, right? Jesus's age. Shakespeare changes this to be the same number of stabs as Years in Jesus's life. 34:39 Erin: See, we know what side you're on. 34:41 Wes: And I think in Plutarch, he says, you, too, child. He refers to Caesar. Well, the story is that he calls Brutus child. And it's not et tu. It's not N U. It's just. I forget what it is. But anyway, et tu, Brute? Great. 34:57 Erin: So great. Then fall, Caesar, also great. Gives his own stage direction, 35:05 Wes: right? 35:06 Erin: He becomes the playwright. 35:07 Wes: I fall because I will. Exactly. Not because I've been stabbed. I will it. 35:13 Erin: Well, it's badass. It really is. Gotta give him credit. And Brutus is telling everybody else who's witnessing this, like, don't run away. This is going exactly according to plan. Ambition's debt is paid. We're not going to kill anybody else here. Because for some reason, I don't know, they look like absolute psychos. 35:29 Wes: What comes across in these scenes following the assassination is the naivete where, okay, everyone, calm down. Nothing bad's gonna happen. Of course, they've unleashed the dogs of war, as Antony will say. I always forgot that that line is in this play as opposed to, like, one of the British history plays. But anyway, yeah, they've unleashed hell on Rome, or, you know, but they naively think that by saying liberty and freedom and. And all that stuff that they're going to get a good reception. And they underestimate Mark Antony. 36:06 Erin: Of course, Brutus does, especially after the augmented line. My second favorite love to hate Brutus moment is, stoop, Roman, stoop. And let us bathe our hands in Caesar's blood up to the elbows and besmear our swords. Then walk we forth, even to the marketplace, and waving our red weapons o' er our heads, let's all cry peace, freedom and liberty. Absolutely insane. Like, Brutus is insane. 36:36 Wes: They sound like hippies thinking that their protest is going to go over well with people. 36:41 Erin: Yeah, and they're covered in blood in 36:44 Wes: the middle of the road or something. And, yeah, now everyone's going to be 36:47 Erin: on our side, right? 36:48 Wes: And then the great, you know, line by Cassius, how many ages hence shall this, our lofty scene, be acted over in states unborn and accents yet unknown? Brutus, how many times shall Caesar bleed in sport? And then Cassius will be called the men that gave their country liberty. So they're right that it's going to be remembered and used as material for 37:15 Erin: plays and podcasts yet unknown. 37:19 Wes: Podcasts yet unknown. But they're wrong about how it's going to be remembered and certainly about the liberty part. And then the next thing is really the introduction of Marc Antony, which is really. He's now introduced into the play by a servant. In a way, this is a more consequential moment than the stabbing itself. In a sense, dramatically. Maybe I'm overstating that, but Mark Antony, who's been largely absent, is now going to take on this huge. Is he the shoe that drops? 37:51 Erin: Yes, I think in a way you're right. In another way, I think if we're reading this play rather than seeing it, then of course Antony's entrance is going to be very. It's going to overshadow the one stage direction we get, which is he dies. But of course, we have to imagine this is very dramatically done. 38:08 Wes: Conceivably, everything could have ended here. He's dead and that's it. Nothing else happens after that. But Mark Antony sets us up for he is now the main actor. He's gonna produce all the action that follows. 38:24 Erin: Yeah, there's something more to come here. 38:27 Wes: Yeah. So he's the catalyst or the igniting fuel for the rest of the play. 38:33 Erin: Yeah. And we get this really interesting proxy for Antony and his servant because Antony's smart enough to send somebody just in case they have it in for him too. And in fact, they should have. We get the list of the four adjectives which are really interesting. Brutus is noble, wise, valiant and honest. Caesar was mighty, bold, royal and loving. I really like those. The contrast between those two things, those two sets. 38:59 Wes: I should say those two sets of adjectives are right. They point to the different aspects of character that Caesar. They're self concepts. It's Caesar's might and fearlessness and courageousness. Right. Bold, fearless. That's the thing he prides himself on. And that's the thing which his authority is supposedly derived from. And for Brutus, it's honor, virtue. 39:21 Erin: And then we get. Say I love Brutus and I honor him. Say I feared Caesar, honored him and loved him. So there's an interesting. 39:31 Wes: Yeah, so why does he need to introduce the fear with Caesar? And then honor and love are reversed. Right. Loves Brutus, honors him, but honors Caesar, loves him. And then also we add fear, the 39:47 Erin: chiasmus, sort of chiasmus. Because there's, as you say, this extra thing added in, creates the sort of love sandwich here. So we begin and end with love. But it's first and therefore for secondary in the Brutus list and primary in the Caesar list, taking the last place. 40:07 Wes: Yeah. The fear seems to suggest that he didn't necessarily. Wasn't on board with everything. Caesar was doing, but was going along with it out of fear. And by implication, by leaving out the fear of them, he's suggesting he doesn't actually fear them when he. Of course he does. And he should. And he does because he sent the servant and he should. 40:29 Erin: And of course they don't want. I mean, Brutus. This is designed to appeal to Brutus. He's also emphasizing the power vacuum that's now been created, which of course Brutus cannot fill. So he's not going to fear Brutus as an emperor in the absence of Caesar. Yeah, it's designed to appeal to Brutus in a couple of different ways. Acknowledging that there's no longer anyone left to fear because Brutus is. Has restored the leaderlessness or something of Rome. Yeah. And then basically Antony wants to make sure that it's safe for him to come out and play. And Brutus assures him that it is by saying to the servant, thy master is a wise and valiant Roman. Which I love because it repeats two words that Antony used for Brutus rather than the two words two of the four he used for Caesar. Tell him so please him, come unto this place, he shall be satisfied and by my honor depart untouched. And that's when Antony really knows that he's going to be okay because Brutus has attached this to his honor and therefore we'll leave him untouched. 41:34 Wes: Cassius is still skeptical. He still fears him. And he thinks his fear is probably going to be borne out in the consequences. My misgiving still falls truly to the purpose. And yeah, this is another, what turns out to be another one of Brutus mistakes. Well, he's already rejected Cassius's suggestion that they kill him during the. During their conspirators meeting. He's not going to do it now. Cassius is worried about it. Rightly so. 42:02 Erin: What I love is that Cassius repeats of Antony a sort of scrambled version of what Caesar says of Cassius. Cassius says, I wish we may, but yet I have a mind that fears him much. And my misgiving still falls shrewdly to the purpose of Cassius. Caesar says, but I fear him not. Yet if my name were liable to fear, I do not know the man I should avoid so soon as that spare Cassius, the use of yet there and much and fear. 42:34 Wes: Interesting. Yeah. Caesar fears Cassius, Cassius fears Antony. Antony fears Caesar. It's a fool feared. All right, then I am afraid we have to end there. That is part four of our 30 part series on Julius Caesar. No, hopefully we'll just do two more 42:54 Erin: parts yes, we are gonna have to. 42:58 Wes: We can do what we want. The audience is gonna have to. 43:00 Erin: If we will it, then, right. Anything's possible. 43:04 Wes: Now, we can't force people to listen. 43:06 Erin: That's right. 43:07 Wes: If we were Caesar, we could, but. All right. So thank you, thank you, 43:17 Erin: and thanks to everyone who listened. For an easy way to do that, go to subtextpodcast.com patreon.com subtextpodcast please send your questions, feedback and episode requests to letters@subtextpodcast.com if we get enough questions, we'll do some bonus Q and A shows for subscribers. You can also find us on Facebook subtextpodcast and on Twitter enjoysubtext.

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  • February 2 · 45 min

    The Character of Authority in Shakespeare’s “Julius Caesar” (Part 3)

    Wes & Erin continue their discussion of Shakespeare’s “Julius Caesar,” and its sustained reflection on how political power is constructed, located, and legitimated. Upcoming Episodes: “Amadeus,” Susan Sontag’s “On Photography.” Pre-order Erin’s forthcoming book “Avail” here: http://subtextpodcast.com/avail For bonus content, become a paid subscriber at Patreon or directly on the Apple Podcasts app. Patreon subscribers also get early access to ad-free regular episodes. Also from Wes: Curtain Times, a calendar of Boston theatre, classical, talks and readings. Follow: Twitter | Facebook | Website Transcript 0:20 Erin: or patreon.com/subtextpodcast. 0:32 Wes: Hey, welcome to part three of our discussion of Shakespeare's Julius Caesar at the end of part two, which admittedly is. How long ago, Erin, was that three weeks ago that we recorded? 0:45 Erin: Oh, no, was it three? I thought it was only two weeks ago. 0:47 Wes: Oh, well, maybe. 0:48 Erin: Seems longer. 0:49 Wes: I thought we might have postponed it because of the holiday, but. Oh, maybe we're jumping back in after a bit of a gap. So I think we were done or almost done talking about the end of act one with the storm. And I think the main idea there was that there's something about the storm which represented unnaturalness, the corruption of nature. Right. Things. People walking around with their hands on fire but not being bothered by it. Nature being corrupted in the sense of things not behaving as they would normally do according to their natures. According to their natural properties, hands should. Should burn and people should be a little bit bothered by it, at the very least. And that that unnaturalness represents something about what happens to a person who's corrupted by power or to a state that's corrupted by power. And so it's interpreted in that sense by Cassius, after Cicero just kind of dismisses Casca's concerns as just superstition. And Cassius interprets it at first as representative of that kind of corruption. And so it is a warning in that sense. And then he ends with a bit of a shift to saying, well, the storm also represents the things that we're going to have to do to oppose Caesar. The storm represents the rebellion. And there you get a little bit of the reminder that the rebellion and that Caesar's authoritarianism and whatever is going on with the rebels might be mirror images of each other. And that, I think, is what Shakespeare is actually partly reflecting on. We talked quite a bit in the first two parts about Caesar and Brutus as mirrors or mirror images of each other, where in a way, their authority. Right. In Caesar's case, his authority is supposed to be a role within a republic, but it's come to be identified with him as a person is a person who has all these great feats as a person because of his personal prowess, which is a certain kind of virtue. It's a certain aspect of his character. And likewise, Brutus seems to implicitly want to make the claim and does in his own funeral. Well, it's not a funeral oration, but speech. Following Caesar's death, he will want to say, my authority in some sense is a function of my virtue and my honor. Brutus is an honorable man. And then that kind of appeal to character as a foundation for authority, we have the same sort of problem. And that, I think, is really what Shakespeare is onto. Over the vacation, I went and reread some of Plutarch's lives with Brutus and Caesar. And Mark Antony didn't get to Cassius. But it's really interesting because you can kind of see, first of all, he really heavily relies on Plutarch. In some cases, some of his lines are just slightly modified variations on something that Plutarch has said. But you get to see what he's thinking about, what Shakespeare is really doing with it. And what he's doing is a very interesting thing, which he's drawing this parallel between Brutus and Caesar and wondering if, in light of the aftermath of what Brutus and the rebels did, which kind of led to The Empire, ironically, although the Republic was kind of shit show for 90 years before all this happened. They were fighting. They were friends. It's kind of amazing to see what was going on. Brutus was writing treatises on virtue. He was a philosopher by day and by night, they were just going out and conquering half the world and fighting each other and doing all this crazy stuff. It's really quite amazing what was. Was going on in that context. And it reminded me that Brutus and Caesar were friends. 4:40 Erin: Oh, yeah. Caesar loved Brutus. 4:42 Wes: Yeah. I mean, they had been enemies at various points in the past, too. But these are people who had traveled together extensively, gone to war together. You know, it's in the background of the play that you don't. If you're not familiar with the history, it helps in a way to become familiar with it, because Brutus is. And really the rest of the conspirators are. They're involved. They're not just killing. Oh, he's. You know, it's not like some stranger is killing a. Doing an assassination of a tyrant. It's these. These people are killing their friend because he's gotten too big for his britches. So wanted to say also, there are some extant letters by Brutus between Brutus and Cicero, and they sound very much like Brutus in the play. He is a person who is entitled, in a way, by his sense of honor. You get the sense that he may have been from Plutarch as well. He might have been kind of induced into doing this by people appealing to his relationship to his ancestor. Like all that stuff happened with Cassius putting the letters. It's there in Plutarch and sounds like he might have been manipulated by concern for his reputation into acting. So we get this kind of question of is he acting for the republic and for the public good, or is he doing something out of his own honor? That, in a way, looks a bit like Cassius. It's a bit closer to Cassius motives which are envious, or to Caesar's motives, which seem to be about power at this point. And that's the question. But I just wanted to say Shakespeare took Plutarch and had an interesting idea, which is he wanted to reflect on the nature of power and how it's grounded and in particular, whether it's a good idea to ground power in the character of a particular actor as opposed to certain institutions. Right. The character of whether it's Caesar or Brutus, and then the confusion between that, because Brutus thinks he's all about the Republic and he Says this in his letters to Cicero, too. And he really chews out Cicero, because at this point, Cicero is thinking on Octavius's side. And Octavius and Antony are fighting at this point. And Cicero has taken a liking to the boy, as Brutus calls Octavius as a foil to Antony. Octavius, of course, will turn out to be Augustus Caesar, the first emperor. And he chews him out for wanting to be. What are you? You just a slave? You think he's going to be a better master than Caesar was or than Antony would be. Brutus is always on and on about freedom and slavery and honor and the republic and this and that. But is he thinking about the republic or is he thinking about his own honor and character? And it's never quite clear how you disentangle those things. And this is a very common political problem. Where am I really talking about the general good or am I talking about myself? That's kind of my recap of where we were with this. 7:35 Erin: I think, in a way, you're talking about kind of the same principles over and over again. I'm seeing, in a way to tie this all together. I'm seeing that the idea that Cassius is reverse engineering the sign of the storm to suddenly reflect him. There's this causation kind of problem, I think, that the play is dealing with up until the moment of the assassination, where cause and effect somehow seem to be reversed or confused, or maybe what the cause is kind of can't be located. So in the same way that you're describing, there's this idea of the natural and the reverse engineering of the sign that the storm represents. There's this idea in Brutus that his republican aristocratic lineage gives him the right to do away with someone who would be king or would be emperor, and to therefore violently restore republicanism. And also this idea of being honorable, that any action one performs will be honorable if one is honorable, rather than the. The honor adhering in the action itself. So I think there's this confusion or maybe something like the stickiness of the adjective. And what I think Brutus is doing in his slippery logic, especially as we get into Act 2, Scene 1, is moving the adjective from what might be its most logical place to elsewhere. Right. In this instance of honor, I'm using this sort of incorrectly because it can't really be applied grammatically in the passages that we're going to look at. But he's taking a quality and I think applying it where it doesn't belong, essentially. But a lot of what he does is play with grammar, I think, you know, famously in this, in line 10, it must be by his death. There's a reversal of order that keeps happening, I think, in terms of just temporally, where he puts the cart before the horse. So the. It in that line, it's very, very much like. Like Macbeth. There's so many, I think, parallels to Macbeth throughout this, the whole play, really, but especially in Act 2, as they're planning the murder. It reminds me of in Macbeth, if it were done when tis done, then twere well, it were done quickly, the it being the murder. Right. So it must be by his death, it meaning his overthrow, I suppose. But it's a very imprecise. Obviously very imprecise pronoun. So one wonders what exactly he means by it in that line. 10:00 Wes: So it must be by his death. And for my part, I know no personal cause to spurn him, but for the general, he would be crowned, how that might change his nature. 10:08 Erin: There's the question what might happen. Let's take a proactive approach here. 10:14 Wes: But again, this, you know, this question of nature and character. Right. Something I want to keep hammering away at, where our characters are second nature. It's not nature. The property of. The natural tendency of an acorn to grow into a tree is its nature, or the property of an electron. It has a certain nature. It behaves certain ways under certain circumstances. But human character is like a second nature. It involves a set of dispositions to think and act and feel in certain ways, and it's hard to change. It's also the locus of virtue, which is pretty much what Brutus is about, but something that's hard to change, but something that can be perverted and corrupted. And when it is corrupted, it looks like all these unnatural things that happen, like with people's burning hands. Burning. It's the burning hands and people not reacting to it are in a way, representation of something that's gone wrong with someone's character. So Caesar might have his nature change. And this is, you know, as you pointed out. Yeah. This is an interesting aspect of this because we get. We'll get several speeches in this play that kind of say, well, Caesar, he didn't really do anything yet. 11:27 Erin: Yes, right. 11:28 Wes: But he might be corrupted by this. Yeah. 11:31 Erin: Right. Well, a really great example of this is this, the Adder. And then the ladder imagery here. So we have. It is the bright, bright day that brings forth the Adder, and that craves wary walking crown him that. And then, I grant, we put a sting in him that at his will he may do danger with so, so much going on here. But first of all, it is the bright day that brings forth the adder is so fascinating because we're talking immediately about a quality that inheres in the adder itself. But first we have like these conditions that sort of create the adder in a weird way. And the conditions, the bright day, you know, in Brutus's mind, Caesar here is the snake. He's the snake in this nice scene. But the bright day might have been created by Caesar himself. Right. A favorable day, like a nice day. Oh, it's the, you know, it's the easy times. 12:23 Wes: Yeah. I think it means the glory and the adulation of the people. 12:27 Erin: Okay. 12:27 Wes: Because there are several lines, there are several comparisons like this in the the place. It's part of the same line of thought where Caesar is not, he's a colossus, but only relative to the people who cower underneath him. He's not really a colossus in and of himself. That's not his nature. And there's meant to be an explicit parallel here to you have no mirrors. You know what Cassius says to Brutus about not having a mirror, Caesar has a mirror. That's the bright day. It's the adulation of the people, it's the glory associated with his magnificent accomplishments. And that's what brings out the adder. Power corrupts, in other words, it's another way of saying power corrupts. 13:06 Erin: I see again, I think of something that I think we touched on in either part one or two, which is that I think in a way that honor isn't. Populism truly is its own defense or its own, I don't know, Popularity, I should say, is its own self evident kind of not virtue, but it's its own reward or whatever. Right. So Caesar is continually faulted for being popular or for having the love of the people. And you know, the bright day in itself has nothing wrong with it. 13:40 Wes: I think this is another part of what Shakespeare is reflecting on because Brutus is rah, rah, rah, the republic and freedom and part of that are some democratic institutions. Even though it's not not a democracy per se. It's a really complicated situation. But you have the tribunes, that's the way the play begins, chastising the people for being fickle. So if you think democracy is your way out, well, the plebeians may just have the tendency to hand over absolute power to a charismatic figure, to a strong man, to the man who has all the Glory from all his great war deeds, because they want a mirror too. They want to be able to see themselves and the magnificence of the leader. Everyone's out for their mirrors for their own bright day, so to speak. The problem is very complicated because an appeal to the republic, Shakespeare is pointing out an appeal to democratic institutions doesn't by itself. And that's the kind of thing that Brutus does in his letters. And it doesn't get you out of the problem. Again, the plebeians can just. They might be in love with authoritarianism. 14:52 Erin: Yeah, that's right. So, yeah, continuing with that thought, Brutus goes on to say, crown him that. And then, I grant, we put a sting in him. So again, I really love this imprecise that obviously it means crown him king, crown him emperor, crown him something. But the imprecision or the lack of some kind of precise noun there, I think speaks a lot to the conjecture with which Brutus is sort of thinking about this is operating, or that there's an emptiness, there's just a possibility that he's toying with at the center of his argument. So if we crown him, then I grant we put a sting in him. So Caesar's already an adder, but if we crown him, then we're giving the adder fangs like he didn't have them already. This is a fundamental perversion, as you're saying, of his nature somehow to do this. So again, there's some like, it's the bright day that's bringing forth the snake. But then only if we give him a crown, is he going to be a snake that we have to actually be wary of. Like there's something a little bit lumbering about this logic or a little bit broken. 16:02 Wes: Yeah, it's interesting. So I think, again, yeah, the crown him, as you point out, the crown him him. That. That's a great little touch by Shakespeare, because in a way, he doesn't want to say the name that's so taboo. But Caesar's name is already becoming synonymous with king. Right. Even to say Caesar's name is to say that. So as it goes on, the abuse of greatness is when it disjoins remorse from power, which I take to be, again, another form of power corrupting by a. By taking away conscience and taking away inhibitions from doing things which are unjust or terrible. And to speak truth of Caesar, I have not known when his affection swayed more than his reason. Right. So he's not. I haven't known him to be driven by his emotions. He's been pretty reasonable. But tis common proof that lowliness is young. Ambition's ladder, where to the climber upward turns his face. But when he once attains the utmost round, he then unto the ladder turns his back, looks in the clouds, scorning the base degrees by which he did ascend. The base degrees being the lower rungs of the ladder, which include his. You know, the friends who helped him rise. Supposedly, it says so Caesar may. 17:18 Erin: Yeah, yeah. This is such a fuzzy image, because ambition itself is the climber, not a person climbing a ladder. Right. This is 2 degrees removed from an actual human being. So we have ambition itself climbing the ladder, which is lowliness. And ambition, of course, we know, is Caesar, that's the adder. And lowliness is then added to it, like the L to the adder, to create a ladder. They're so far away from each other that they're both at the end of the line, ladder and adder. But they don't rise really with each other. Or they do, but only in this really delayed way. And it's almost as though he's given himself a thought. And then he augments it, if you like to use a word that he'll use in a second with a different kind of thought, a different kind of image, but it's just piggybacking off of. Off of smoke, off of something he's admitted isn't really a problem or hasn't been seen to be a problem yet. 18:13 Wes: Yeah, and I mean, this is a great point. It's a great example of what I think Shakespeare is thinking about across multiple plays, which is the role of metaphor in reasoning. Shakespeare is a great deployer of metaphor, but he's also thinking about metaphor. We saw some of that in Much Ado, where Hero was so stained by her slutty behavior, supposed slutty behavior, that not even all the water of the ocean could wash her off. This kind of. And this becomes a sort of legal indictment about her character and who she is. And in this case, the use of metaphor here is with ambition. It's ambition that's climbing the ladder. And Caesar. In a way, the argument is meant to be an indictment of Caesar, but it really is an indictment of ambition in general. It's ambition that does all this. It's ambition that turns his face and then turns his back on the lower rungs and all. All that stuff. So if Caesar is ambitious, then he might. He may do all of these things. So he's recognizing a general dynamic in ambition. And it's not to say that the argument Might not hold if Caesar is ambitious. But the reasoning is primarily about ambition. 19:27 Erin: There's something geometric happening here, too. Did you notice this? The base degrees. And we have the idea of turning one's face. So this ambition supposedly has a face, which is another thing that Brutus does. He's assigning a body to characteristics. Right. Rather than looking at a body and seeing what characteristics that body has. So ambition turns its face toward the ladder, and then climbs up the ladder, and then unto the ladder, turns his back. Well, if one climbs up a ladder, your back is already turned to the ladder. Right. Like there's something bizarre that's happening. So you climb up a ladder and you get to the top and your back is already to it. If you face the ladder to ascend. 20:12 Wes: Just to get specific about the metaphor. Right. So lowliness is like humility. Humility is young. Ambition's ladder. So ambition pretends to be humble and uses that to climb. So where to? The climber upward, turns his face. Double meaning, I think, but turns his face, as in puts on a humble face. 20:32 Erin: Right. 20:32 Wes: But also. Right. You get this idea, as you're pointing out, of facing upward as you go up the ladder. Right? 20:39 Erin: Yes. Yeah. And then turning, turning one's back to the ladder, which you can't do while you're on the ladder. You have to, you know, but once you walk away from the ladder. So once you've ascended, you have to kind of. You're already oriented past the ladder when you get off it with your back to it. 20:55 Wes: Yeah. 20:55 Erin: So it's natural, in other words, to not turn around and then look at the ladder. From once you came, as soon as you get to the utmost rung or whatever it is. Right. You're already going to be turning your back to the ladder just when you step off of it. 21:08 Wes: Yeah. These places where the metaphors kind of break down are also really interesting. And metaphors inevitably do as you extend them. I mean, part of the satisfaction of great metaphors is you can extend them to a great degree, to a larger degree than on average. Even though the two things in juxtaposition are often quite different, it makes them almost like a scientific model with predictive power, where you're saying one thing is structured like another, or this particular structure explains certain phenomena. And then I can empirically test it and see if the phenomena line up. And then in the cases, metaphors, they eventually don't. Right. So if Juliet is the sun, it may be because she's the light for Romeo and she provides what's needed for him. To grow and various other things. But she's not as hot as the sun. The sun is a ten and she's a nine. Everyone knows that. So the metaphor fails at some point. And here. Yeah, and it tells us something. Here you're pointing to the point of failure. But the ladder itself is humility. Right. So when we turn our back on. On the ladder, we turn our back on the. We turn our face towards it, which I think in part means to put on a humble aspect. To put on a humble face. And then we have this idea of turning our back on it, which means we show our true colors and become arrogant. Right. Scorn the base degrees and scorn our own humility, but also scorn the humble, the people to whom we showed humility and grace and other good qualities in order to get where we ascended to. 22:47 Erin: Yeah, I like the idea, too, that very shortly, you know, the conspirators will show up with their faces actually covered. Right. So their faces are, in fact, more turned. And Brutus will also give them instructions to sort of hide their conspiracy behind a false face. 23:03 Wes: Yeah. And to be good actors. 23:05 Erin: Exactly. 23:06 Wes: Yeah. So Brutus ends this little. This bit with something quite cynical, which is he's thinking about what he's going to tell people after they assassinate him is essentially the gist of the end of this speech. So Caesar may. Then, lest he may prevent. Right. So just. We're going to stop him before it happens. And since the quarrel will bear no color for the thing he is. Right. So the thing he is right now is not. He's not a terrible tyrant right now. And so it's not going to look that way to people fashion it thus. Which means this is the way we're going to represent it to others. That which he is augmented would run to these and these extremities and therefore think him as a serpent's egg which hatched, would, as its kind, grow mischievous and kill him in the shell. So we nipped it in the bud, people, why did we kill Caesar? You may not have thought he was a tyrant, but he was about to grow into one. And we saw the signs of that. That. And so we nipped this in the bud. 24:06 Erin: This is the number one place I could point to in my dislike of Caesar. I'm sorry, in my dislike of Brutus. Yeah. We'll bear no color for the thing he is. Fashion it thus that what he is augmented would run to these. This is truly crazy. Right? This is so annoying. Okay, I can't really make this argument right now, but what I can say is that if he were different than what he is, then we should kill him. And that's going to be my. Like this is pure fumes. What he is augmented. I know I'm representing it a little bit more extreme than what it is, but it's nearly there. It's right. Then what he is augmented. So what he is changed would run to these and these extremities. 24:54 Wes: Yeah, Augmented by being given the crown, for instance. 24:58 Erin: Yeah, but it's. But there's a beauty to it all being on the same line. Right. Like there's what he is augmented also has that other. That sort of shadow, meaning what he isn't really. Or if he were different, then this would be a problem. And so we are going to kill him under the assumption that he might become that different person. 25:20 Wes: Yeah. It's funny because there's a. This kind of reflects an interesting problem within the philosophy of science which has to do with idealization of laws, of scientific laws. So there are laws that certain, you know, that things behave in a certain way, but they never really behave in that way because there are all these confounding factors. So the law is always idealized. And then you have to say, well, the orbit of the Earth around the sun isn't exactly what we would expect because there are these other factors involved. Right. Instance. So the law that tells us how the Earth should orbit around the sun is idealized. And then we get other interfering factors, for instance, might not be the greatest example, but in this case, Caesar has a certain nature. Again, the thing I wanted to kind of hammer on here. And so he is disposed to behave in such and such a way, even if we don't see it, because there are confounding factors. And the confounding factors is that he just hasn't been given the crown yet, or he's not in the right circumstance, but given the right circumstances, we're going to see it happen. 26:26 Erin: Or we should see it happen, provided that. Right. In that scientific way you're describing. It should be this way, provided that XYZ and all the other letters are in the right spot. 26:39 Wes: Yeah. He thinks he knows Caesar's nature, which is odd. Historically, I think he's probably right. But Shakespeare is asking us to be a bit skeptical. That's why he's introducing all these interesting slips, saying, well, actually he is reasonable and I haven't seen him be terrible and emotional about things, but this is his nature. And so on. Part of the question here is, well, how do you know? How do you know what his nature is. Yes, this may be the general tendency for ambition and power corrupts. But how do you know this is Caesar's? 27:16 Erin: Because, particular Evans, don't you trust Brutus, the number one people person? Obviously, 27:26 Wes: he's an honorable. He's an honorable man. 27:28 Erin: The guy who just really gets what people are like, it seems. That's really what you know. 27:33 Wes: So, yeah, so this scene, I mean, it's a great unfolding of Brutus's character as a person. And we see him in a, you know, not quite as tortured as Hamlet, obviously, but he's, you know, we get a window into his ruminations and the overcoming of his reluctance to do something about Caesar. So Cassius manipulations have worked at this point, and he's talking himself into it. 27:57 Erin: Yeah, we see Cassius, or we see the one form of manipulation that Cassius has promised. So we see these letters that have been thrown into Brutus's window, which I love because they're just vague enough, like, Cassius does know human nature and knows that Brutus will fill in the blanks with what he wants to fill it in. So better. Better to let Brutus work himself up into a lather than try to write anything that might appeal to Brutus, because really only. Only Brutus can. Can reason with Brutus. So, Brutus, thou sleeps awake and see thyself shall Rome, etc. Speak, strike, redress, shall Rome, et cetera. And then we hear Brutus, like, working out, like, oh, what does this mean? Mean, thus must I piece it out. Shall Rome stand under one man's awe. What Rome, my ancestors did from the streets of Rome, the Tarquin drive, when he was called a king. Speak, strike, redress. Am I entreated to speak and strike? O Rome, I make thee promise. If the redress will follow, thou receivest thy full petition at the hand of Brutus. So I just. I love that. I love the idea that they're like, shall Rome, etc. He's like, just like, let me fill in the blank here with what I want to hear, and then I will be convinced. I will have convinced myself. 29:12 Wes: Yeah, it's funny, I think in Plutarch there are letters, but it's also graffiti. So his ancestor Brutus, who may, or not by the way, may or may not have been his ancestor, but everyone thought he was his ancestor, driven the. How do you pronounce it? Tarquinians. Tarquin. Anyway, it prevented the monarchy hundreds of years before and so was critical to the preservation of the Republic. There were statues of this Guy. And the graffiti was put on the statues. Oh, if only Brutus were around. And it was meant to be pointed at, of course, the living Brutus, to kind of stand up and be like his ancestor, be the kind of great man his ancestor was. And so that's one of the ways in which supposedly Brutus was manipulated into getting involved in the conspiracy. And the conspirators wanted him involved because he had such a great reputation in Rome. He had a much better reputation than any of the rest of them. Reputation for being incorruptible. One of the few people who was thought of as absolutely politically incorruptible. And so to get him on board was quite an accomplishment. And then the question is, well, was he corrupted at that point? Was he actually corrupted by the conspirators into getting involved? And corrupted by making appeals to the idea of his incorruptibility, which is precisely the thing that Decius is going to accuse Caesar of. Right. Caesar is flattered by the. If you tell him he's incapable of being flattered, he's flattered by that. And you get him to do anything he wants. 30:50 Erin: Yeah. That's another point toward the mirror idea between Brutus and Caesar. Yeah, I hadn't thought of that. 30:56 Wes: Yep, exactly. 30:57 Erin: Yeah. So let's jump down a little. Since Cassius first did whet me against Caesar, I thought this was an interesting idea, because in a moment, Brutus is going to talk about them being swords, the conspirators being swords, in a bit of language that I particularly like. So this idea that he's being sharpened against Caesar. But he says between the acting of a dreadful thing and the first motion, all the interim is like a phantasma or a hideous dream. And this is just what I was referencing a minute ago, that the acting here is second. The first motion is first. So that the. The motion is the. The proposal of the action. The idea of the action and the acting of it would be second. But here he's reversed them. He's put acting first and. And motion second in the order in which he's recounting. 31:46 Wes: Yeah. So the first motion would be the initiation of the plan, or the actual. The willing of it. Like he's made the decision to do it. So in between making the decision to do this dreadful thing and then actually doing it, it's all a hideous dream because he hasn't been able to sleep. Basically, he's tortured now, but he has made his decision. And his bed. She'll end up lying. And then we get. So the conspirators come in and he gives this really interesting speech about not having to take an oath, which I thought was quite. And I thought that was actually rhetorically powerful. And I think we've already mentioned it in our parts one or two. But the idea in his speech is that we don't need an oath. We can just appeal to the identity of being Roman. Romans don't need oaths. Real men don't need oaths. Honorable people don't need oaths will just rest on our identity rather than our communication. And this is, again, reflective of a certain type of conception of power that's rooted in character and identity instead of being rooted in institutions. Because the saying of an oath or the making of a promise, that's a form of institution. And it becomes more complex in the state. But the apparatus of the state, in a way, is built off of that type of thing. Contracts, for instance. He's saying, we don't need no stinking contracts. You don't need no badges. We don't need contracts, and we don't need the state. The implicit message of this is we don't need the apparatus of a state or anything like that. We just need to know that we're honorable men, that we have a Roman identity. 33:30 Erin: This oath would be a blood oath, would it not? They would wound themselves. I mean, this is pure speculation on my part. I probably should have looked this up. Now that I think of it, I don't know. I was reading it as though it were a blood oath, and he's basically saying. Because later he says, you know, to think that our cause or our performance did need an oath, when every drop of blood that every Roman bears and nobly bears is guilty of a several bastardy if you do break the smallest particle of any promise that hath passed from him. So he's saying, like, you know, all your blood is supposed to be, you know, great Roman blood and therefore incapable of betraying, so why spill a few drops of it in this circumstance? So I was reading this as a blood oath. 34:11 Wes: Okay, Makes sense. Yeah. Guilty of a several bastardy, meaning each would be guilty of not actually being a son of Rome. That's the bastard part, right? So you're not even Roman if you would betray this conspiracy. You don't have Roman blood, so why mingle blood in a blood oath? 34:31 Erin: This is where I. I think in either part one or two, I accused Brutus of being like a gnostic, or maybe like a Manichaean, or whichever one I thought was. Was probate at the moment. But you know, he seems to have this such high mindedness that he's not taking the bodily into consideration. He's not taking things like Caesar's popularity with the common people, or he's idealizing the body, or he's doing that thing where he splits everything into component parts. So I think this is how his logic is working. One of the things I just wanted to say, sort of generally speaking is that to me the right thing seems pretty obvious, which is don't do anything, wait and see. But instead he convinces himself, you know, he's sort of the halfway point between Macbeth and Hamlet. He's not like Macbeth where he just says, okay, I'm not going to think about it, I'm just going to rush in and do it. And then be racked by guilt and have the sleeplessness be the result of guilt. But he's also not incapable of acting. But he has to convince himself that this is a good thing. And so he's going to weave this argument, in my opinion, out of very little. And in order to do that, he can't see the forest for the trees. He can't see the obvious, obvious thing. He has to atomize everything and then build a new kind of psychological motivation or justification out of that atomization. And so I think this is what we're seeing constantly in these, in, in, you know, his, his descriptions of Caesar being like the head of a body. So we don't need to hack off Mark Antony the arm of the body. And it's like, what body? You know, he, he's not playing with a whole body, he's playing with like bits and pieces of things. And so here he has this idea that, you know, our motives are good and we don't need to spill blood in order to make this oath, because we are pure and good and whole. And let high sighted tyranny range on till each man drop by lottery. This is a connection, I thought, to what he accuses Caesar of. Just before in the latter speech that we were just talking about, where once he attains the utmost round, he then unto the ladder turns his back, looks in the clouds, scorning the base degrees by which he did ascend. Right? So that's high sighted tyranny. So looking into the clouds, but in this very moment he's saying that we shouldn't be spilling our own blood or dealing with something lowly like that. You know, we should be thinking of our own motives, our own high minded ideals in order to justify this. Like we don't need an oath, we just need Our own high minded in order to go through with this. And so he's sort of aping the very orientation which he's at the same time deriding in Caesar. He's seeing the stars rather than dealing with the people right in front of him. 37:18 Wes: Yeah, well, you gave a good example of the perils of metaphorical reasoning with you fast forward to the point where he's rejecting, as he does a number of times, he rejects sensible suggestions by Cassius in this case to kill Mark Antony, because Mark Antony is just a limb. So if that sort of political alliance were like a human body, a truly organic whole where different parts can't change their functions, then he would be right. But that's not how the political body works, it turns out. So Antony is a huge power player and long has been in Rome and is perfectly capable of trying to, to become king himself, which is what he does historically. But it doesn't end well for him either. But anyway, or his girlfriend. Right, that's a play we should do soon, you know, again, let's be sacrificers, not butchers, Caius. Oh, he's using his first name there. Interesting. Will stand up against the spirit of Caesar and in the spirit of men there is no blood, so. So we're killing his spirit, not him. He's just a collateral damage, right? The real Caesar, the physical Caesar is collateral damage. We're killing the spirit, which is the ambition, the tyranny, the corrupted role that's created when a king is created. So let's kill boldly, not wrathfully. Brutus is trying to be very high minded here and make sure that no ill, nefarious motives come into this. And Cassius is just the poster boy for mixed motives. He may have some noble motives, but he's also ambitious himself and envious himself, which is what Shakespeare repeatedly makes clear in his characterization. 38:59 Erin: This is one of the moments where I think that Brutus is envious and unaware of it because he mentions envy twice in this and says he doesn't want people to think that he is envious or that they are envious. He says, you know, if we're too bloody then we're going to look like wrath and death and envy afterwards by cutting the head off and then the limbs. And then at the end of this little speech he says, this shall make our purpose necessary and not envious, which so appearing to the common eyes, we shall be called purgers, not murderers. Again, there's, there's a preoccupation with what other people think. And this repeated Idea, which I take to be pretty suggestive, you know, that we don't want to appear to be envious at all. I mean, that could. That could be legitimate. But I think Brutus doth protest too much, you know. 39:48 Wes: Yeah. And I think, well, so the way it's represented in Plutarch, the way it's represented in the end of the play. Right. Mark Antony will say, Brutus was the only one who wasn't. 39:56 Erin: You're right. 39:57 Wes: At least partly envious. And that's straight out of Plutarch. And that's the way that history is written. It makes it seem like Brutus has pure motives and Cassius has mixed motives, and the rest of them are at least partly driven not by the best motives. They might want to save the Republic, partly. But also there's other things going on. But Brutus is supposedly pure. And I think you're right to point out that Shakespeare is exploring that possibility. Is Brutus really? And even if he were. Even if Brutus were, in his own mind, purely acting out of a conception of the public good and his own virtue and honor, is that enough? Isn't he, in a way trying to be absolute himself? He's trying to be the best in one way or another, but. 40:45 Erin: Yeah, that's right. Yeah. Is it possible to be as prideful as Brutus is and not be envious? And if he is a kind of mirror of Caesar in that way, I mean, we don't really see Caesar be envious, I guess. I don't really think so. But I think that there's an implication that if Brutus and Caesar are sort of of wind or something, an envious 41:06 Wes: person is worried about taking something away from another who has it. I think Brutus is worried about losing something, and that's the reputation he already has. 41:16 Erin: I see. Yeah. Which is a mysterious one because of 41:20 Wes: the letters and the right. Historically, the graffiti. It's been suggested to him, you are not really Brutus unless you act like your ancestor and stop. Your reputation is at stake here. If you don't do this, you're going to fall from this very, very high reputation that you have. And that would be the most cynical way to interpret what Brutus is doing, that it's all about maintaining his reputation. But if it is on Shakespeare's account, it is unconscious. And that's part of what Shakespeare is exploring. 41:55 Erin: The idea of being a Roman, too comes up twice in that previous speech. And that's seems to be important. Like we have to be Roman. I have to be myself if I do this. Or if I don't do this, I'm not Brutus. If I don't do this, I'm not a Roman. And yet. Yeah, I just wanted to mention, just to backtrack for one second, that he has this idea of steeling with valor, so being like a sword and basically erect and strong rather than one of the melting spirits of women. And he says, what need we any spur but our own cause to prick us to redress? So there's a, there's a slight double spur in that. So there's this inherent idea in his metaphor of drawing blood, but it's only ever metaphorical blood. And in fact, you know, Romans need all their, all their Roman blood within them to be against the bastardy of tyranny in order to successfully fight against whatever Caesar represents. And so we're going to, to spill his blood because he's not a Roman. Yeah, so it's this, this helps me, I think, see this justification a little bit more clearly because there's so much hypocrisy in Brutus without understanding that what he's trying to do is maintain this sort of ideological or the self concept, which is whole. And he's going to preserve that by any means necessary, even if it means literally punching holes in somebody, somebody else. So that's, that's helpful to me to understand, understand his psychology. 43:24 Wes: Yeah, I mean, I think it's something we all do. I mean, it's for better or for worse. I think there are ethical theories which ground ethical action in general and a conception of identity preserving an identity, even if it's just a human identity, we cease to be human if we do certain things. And so we don't act certain ways for fear of ceasing to be human. But we also get ourselves into big trouble because we, and I think this is kind of what psychoanalysts refer to as death drive. Death drive, in a way, is about self preservation. It's about preservation of a certain identity, a certain image, even if it's at a practical level very self destructive. We want to preserve that because. Or it wants to preserve itself and it's lodged in us. Right. It doesn't want to be destroyed. So if it's an identity that is counterproductive, that's not its problem. It wants to continue to live. All right, so that is the end of part three. patreon.com subtextpodcast or doing that subscribing right here on Apple. Or maybe it's not here. Maybe you're not on Apple. But if you are on Apple, it is here. Otherwise, yeah, you can wait a week to listen to Part four. 44:39 Erin: Thank you, thank you. And thanks to everyone who listened. For an easy way to do that, go to subtextpodcast.com patreon.com subtextpodcast please send your questions, feedback and episode requests to letters@subtextpodcast.com if we get enough questions, we'll do some bonus Q and A shows for subscribers. You can also find us on Facebook subtextpodcast and on Twitter NYsubtext.

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  • January 26 · 49 min

    The Character of Authority in Shakespeare’s “Julius Caesar” (Part 2)

    Wes & Erin continue their discussion of Shakespeare’s “Julius Caesar,” and its sustained reflection on how political power is constructed, located, and legitimated. Upcoming Episodes: “Amadeus,” Susan Sontag. Pre-order Erin’s forthcoming book “Avail” here: http://subtextpodcast.com/avail For bonus content, become a paid subscriber at Patreon or directly on the Apple Podcasts app. Patreon subscribers also get early access to ad-free regular episodes. Also from Wes: Curtain Times, a calendar of Boston theatre, classical, talks and readings. Follow: Twitter | Facebook | Website Transcript 0:19 Erin: or patreon.com/subtextpodcast. 0:32 Wes: Okay, welcome to part two of our discussion of Shakespeare's Julius Caesar. We just got done with part of act one, scene two for one hour now. We did a big discussion of Brutus to start things off. And then we started diving into end of the play and we were talking about the character of Caesar. So I had pointed a little bit to this idea of what Caesar do it and it's performed and the way that's dreamlike. And then the accusation against the soothsayer. And then we move to the point of view of Cassius and Brutus. Right. This is the point where Brutus says he's not gamesome enough. Quick spirit. He's not going to the football game. He's just going to go home and feel depressed. 1:14 Erin: Yeah. And he comes down to he's a Stoic. You know, they're always such fun at parties. Vexed, I am of late with passions of some difference, conceptions only proper to myself. So, you know, leave me alone to think my precious thoughts. 1:29 Wes: Poor Brutus, with himself at war, forgets the shows of love to other men. So, you know, Cassius is saying, why have you been so distant with me lately? 1:37 Erin: Yeah. 1:37 Wes: And Brutus, I'm worried, honey. I'm worried about work. 1:42 Erin: I feel like you don't have time for me anymore. 1:46 Wes: Exactly. And then Cassius says, well, I have some things I want to share with you. I've been withholding them, these worthy cogitations because you've been in such a piss poor mood, but maybe it's time to share them. And then he brings up this idea of do you know what your reputation is? And later on. Well, no, it's right here in the scene. Brutus lacks mirrors. He doesn't see how highly people think of him. And this seems to be right. This is a very similar sort of. Well, here we have flattery. And flattery is going to be another big theme in the play. Caesar's going to say later on he's absolutely immune to flattery. Decius says, actually if you want to flatter Caesar, just tell him he's immune to flattery and then he'll eat it all up. And flattery is the way you win over the crowd, right? Rhetorically. So this is all very important and this is what Cassius's project right now is with Brutus. Engage in a little flattery and see if that works. Oh Brutus, you're so high minded and honorable. Everyone thinks that and that will impel him to act according to the image in that mirror. Now I'm not so sure this is actually what motivates Brutus, but yeah, what do you think? I'm not sure what Cassius is doing is actually the big motivator. And especially since his being worried suggests that he's already in this frame of mind. 3:15 Erin: Oh, definitely. Yeah. And I think you're right. I think Brutus actually picks and chooses what he wants to from Cassius. Overall spiel. I love this idea of the mirror because yeah, it's like Brutus doesn't even have a body. He's like a brain in a vat or a microchip. Brutus seems to be all about, you know, he's cogitating because he's concerned because he's of two minds. He's at war with himself and he has to resolve this, I think into a singularity. And so in a way, Cassius's method of this mirror idea seems to be the wrong move. Caesar has statues of himself everywhere. He's populating Rome with himself. And Brutus seems to be about containment or reduction or the, or the desire to reduce himself to a single cause or a single thought. He's upset, he's melancholic, because he doesn't know what to do. He really wants to kill Caesar, but he doesn't know if he can justify it or he's really concerned about Caesar's growing power and feels conflicted about what to do. And so it seems that he needs to get to a decision. And then once he makes that decision, he then has to back it up with a lot of reasons. But like it seems that he needs to rush toward a single resolve, a single resolution. When Cassius tells him that he has a hidden worthiness, he says it is very much lamented, Brutus, that you have no such mirrors as will turn your hidden worthiness into your eye, that you might see your shadow. So the mirrors are sort of for Brutus's own benefit to see something in himself that he isn't aware of. Then Cassius goes on. I have heard where many of the best respect in Rome, except immortal Caesar, speaking of Brutus and groaning unto underneath this age's yoke, have wished that noble Brutus had his eyes. So the first part of that is about I wish you had a mirror in yourself. So that you could see inside your little nooks and crannies, something which is unknown to you. Then he does this sort of wider thing. Other people look at you with such admiration. If only you could see yourself in the eyes of others, then what you need to do will be revealed to you. And what does Brutus latch on to about the first part of that rather than the second part? 5:37 Wes: Right. 5:37 Erin: So he says, into what dangers would you lead me, Cassius, that you would have me seek into myself for that which is not in me? So he ignores. So this is, I think you know what you're talking about, where he's not really motivated by the flattery. He's not really motivated by this idea that other people are really, really love Brutus and really wish that he were, you know, in more control in Rome. Brutus is motivated by the thought that there might be something in him that he's not aware of. And it doesn't have to be worthiness. I mean, he's really motivated, I think, by introspection and discovering, digging up everything in himself that is in there. Because he's obsessed with this idea, I think, of self knowledge and of being as rational as possible, which means examining oneself as thoroughly as possible. And that's what he latches onto in Cassius's speech. He goes right to this, you know, what's in me that I may not know about? And therefore, like, what mischief are you up to? Because are you going to tell me there's something in me that I'm not aware of? 6:43 Wes: Yeah. So the surface content of this is everyone thinks you're so great, Brutus, and wishes that you knew you were great, right? Everyone thinks you're great, except for Caesar. Love that little parenthetical. Everyone's groaning underneath his age's yoke and wish noble Brutus had his eyes, right, to see himself. But another way of interpreting that is wishing Brutus had his eyes to see what other people see in him, which is to say, to be responsive to the crowd the way most people are, and to be responsive to the prospect of glory and the prospect of recognition, to be able to be manipulated by the crowd in the usual way into becoming a projection of their own grandiosity. Which is another way of saying to become an autocrat himself. I'm just taking that line of thought out to its most pernicious possible conclusion. Don't take all that at face value. And another way of reading this is just an even more sinister way. Cassius is, in a very subtle way, saying, look, Brutus, Caesar is becoming a tyrant. And everyone's saying, why hasn't Brutus done anything about it? Brutus is the go to guy. That's what he's doing. And then when Brutus responds and says, seek into myself for that which is not, you would have me seek into myself for that which is not in me. It sounds like he's saying, you're trying to get me to think I'm great when I'm not. But maybe back to this question of flattery. I'm kind of giving another dimension to the flattery which is kind of threat, right. Brutus, the threat of loss of people's respect because he's not doing anything about Zealand. Those are two different ways of thinking about it. And I think the latter might be the thing that is more motivating for Brutus. Not that flattery is going to work on him and that Brutus wants to be seen as great in everyone's eyes or to acquire that for himself, but that he already has that and could lose it. He could be shamed by all of this. 8:46 Erin: Yeah, I think I immediately went to a sort of deeper interpretation than the one that you're pointing to. But I think that there is concern here that there is something about himself that he's not aware of, independent of this idea that people are relying on him. I think part of the reason why the flattery angle maybe isn't working and this idea of other people's eyes being Brutus's eyes doesn't work is that Brutus isn't interested in. I'm just going to say he's not interested in other people's opinion of him, though I think he is. He doesn't understand the social component of self assessment or the importance of knowing oneself in relation to others. 9:36 Wes: And that's interesting in light of the fact that Cassius says I'm going to be your mirror. You can't see yourself, so I will be your mirror here. So I, your glass, will modestly discover to yourself that of yourself which you yet not know of. Modestly. Right. He's not going to exaggerate it. He's not going to flatter. And he'll go on and say, I'm not going to flatter you. If you know that I do fawn on men and hug them hard and after scandal them, or if you know that I profess myself in banqueting to all the rout, then hold me dangerous. So if you know me to part of this is fawning and flattery. Right. And then backstabbing after that. But he's like, you know, I'm not a flatterer. I'm going to give you an accurate representation, and I'm going to be your mirror. And I'm not just trying to manipulate you. And then there's a shouting and flourishing because we're hearing the part where Caesar first rejects the crown. And Brutus, I do fear that people choose Caesar for their king. So now we're getting into open discussion here. That's only been hinted at. And he'll go on to say, I'd rather die for the general good than have Caesar be king. And then we get Cassius kind of reposed to that, where he says he would rather die. How does he put it? Than I had as lief not be as live to be in awe of such a thing as I myself. Right? Such a thing as I myself just being another ordinary human being. And then he gives the great account of Caesar almost drowning. And that same eye whose bend doth awe the world did lose its lustre. Ye gods. It doth amaze me a man of such feeble temper should get the start of the majestic world. And then we get this idea, right? So Caesar is either an ordinary man, or he's maybe even of more feeble temper. He's epileptic. He was too exhausted to swim the river, and Cassius had to save him. And then we get this great speech. Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow world like a colossus. And we petty men walk under his huge legs and peep about to find ourselves dishonorable graves. Men at some time were masters of their fates. The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves, that we are underlings. I don't think I ever fully understood this speech. I mean, in high school, I don't think I understood. Right. When Caesar is called a colossus, it almost sounds like he's being called a great man. But Cassius, point is, he's not a great man. He just seems like a colossus in comparison to our cowardice. He's just an ordinary guy, or maybe even less than that. But we're a bunch of sheep and cowards here in Rome and we're letting him take over. It's interesting because he moves on from this idea that he's gonna be a mirror to Brutus that's just kind of left behind and they get into what Caesar is to them. 12:23 Erin: Well, yes, but Cassius is being a mirror to Brutus in a deeper way first. I just wanna backtrack a second and address what you said. I do fear choose Caesar for their king. That's, I think, in relation to the shouting that they're hearing. And this is Brutus's interpretation. Right. But in fact, this is a misinterpretation. So these shouts are cheering for Caesar because he's refusing to be their king, 12:47 Wes: but he was loathe to reject that crown. 12:50 Erin: That's Casca's interpretation. So it is the occasion for him to come out and say what he fears. But even that statement is only in light of what he is hearing. Then Brutus launches into this whole thing about honor. And then Cassius says, I know that virtue to be in you, Brutus, as well as I do know your outward favor. I know you're an honorable guy. Well, honor is the subject of my story. So he is being a mirror to Brutus. He's basically saying, like, let me put this in a way that Brutus is going to listen, so I'm going to cast this as a story of honor. 13:24 Wes: Ah, I see. 13:25 Erin: So he's mirroring Brutus in the way that he trying to tell Brutus what he wants to hear. And Brutus is like, oh, oh, this is a story about honor. Now I'm listening. Right. 13:36 Wes: So they're being dishonored by, you know, if they're going to be subservient to someone like Caesar. 13:43 Erin: That's exactly right. And Cassius goes on to say, you know, for my single self, for me personally, I'm just one guy, you know, But I'm just saying, right. And then he tells. 13:55 Wes: Don't know about you. I don't know if you like. 13:56 Erin: Like, I don't know if you really like being someone who's dishonored, worshiping a loser. Right. But for me, for me, it's just. I'm just saying. And then he tells the whole swimming story, which is like the. The happens in this movie Gattaca, that we're. We have to cover on the podcast eventually, which I love, but basically, you know, but he's just this guy, this sick guy, and it seems like a dishonor for us to have to deal with that guy elevated above us. And repeatedly, I will say that so much of this, so much of this idea of honor is gendered too. I just want to point that out. Like, are we going to be beholden to this guy who is like a sick girl? He characterizes him womanish. Womanish, right. You know, how could Caesar be so great if I had to save him from the river? There's this idea of Manliness. This is also very appealing to Brutus, and it seems interchangeable. Manliness seems interchangeable with honor throughout. I just want to point that out because I think it's going to become more and more important as the play moves along. And as we see Portia, for instance. And even with the body of Caesar, what ends up happening to Caesar? I think there's some statements being made there. And there's something that is like rebuking on a basic manhood level. That seems to be a motivating factor for Cassius's upset over Caesar and maybe also Brutus's, you know, are we gonna be men and fight back? Are we gonna do something? Or are we just gonna accept our fate? And Calpurnia is really upset about signs. And, you know, this is later, right. But are we going to look outside and say, oh, no, all these bad omens are happening. Maybe don't go to work today. Because that seems to be something that, like, a woman will do in this play, right? Or are we going to actually take action? Are we going to be men and take action? That seems to be the kind of the binary, the implicit binary that's being set up here. So are you a real man, or are you just a sick girl? Nothing worse than a sick girl. I would hate to be one of those. So, yeah, and then we have this idea of, like, conjuring, too. But he amps it up more and more. Then he sort of gets into the perfect personal. But he uses this honor thing as a way in. And I think that. That it's connected to this idea of being a real man. 16:18 Wes: I think also at stake here, there's a little bit of what's in a name going on. 16:23 Erin: Yes. 16:24 Wes: Write them together. Yours is as fair a name which is funny. So beyond Caesar's mannish being manly or womanly or epileptic, feeble or not, there's just the fact that whoever Caesar is, this is just a role. He is just human, and this is just a role. And there's other actors in Rome. The role, you know, the executive role should never grow to encompass everything. It should be one part of the republic. So he'll say, upon what meat doth this our Caesar feed that he has grown so great age. Thou art shamed, Rome. Thou hast lost the breed of noble bloods. When could they say till now that talked of Rome that her wide walls encompassed but one man? So this idea that there's no room for anyone else to be a man or to be strong or an agent or an actor in light of Caesar crowding out that possibility. Caesar becoming everything now, is it Rome indeed and room enough when there is in him but only one man? So my point there, you know, there's two points I'm making. One is about this idea of Caesar's expansion and exclusion of manhood or agency and others. But also the fact that. And I think this is going to become very important, that there is no divine right. There's no essence here. Caesar just has this role on loan. And the man ought not. Right. The role. It might be great. The role might be very prestigious and important. The role of being a leader or a president or what does he have both consulships at this point? What's going on now at this point? I don't know his official title. I think he's got both consulships. 18:15 Erin: There's so much time collapsed here, too. I was trying to work out the 18:18 Wes: timeline, but in any case. Right. Yeah, he's not an emperor, but he's in danger of becoming one. And so the. The role is bigger than the man, and the two ought not to be conflated. The role is something like a social construct, and we ought not to lose sight of that fact. We ought not to treat metaphors as if. Or signs as if they are the things that they stand in for. There's a lot of that in this play and, of course, in Shakespeare's other plays. We ought not to treat the trapping, to think that the trappings of authority somehow confer some essential greatness upon a person. They're still human, all of that stuff. 18:56 Erin: Yeah. You know, the idea that Caesar just has this role, as you're calling it, there's such a. Such a dramatic irony throughout. I mean, throughout the whole play. But of course, the word Caesar will be synonymous with the role. Right? 19:11 Wes: Yes. No, he's consciously. Shakespeare makes great use of that irony in this play. 19:16 Erin: But yet. And I even love yours, is as fair a name. It literally isn't. Right. Brute. It's literally not as fair a name. And it will not start a spirit as soon as Caesar. It literally won't. Right. Caesar's ghost will come on stage. Caesar's name is in everybody's mouths all the time. So what I really like is the scale that happens over the course of this. We have this idea in scene one with the tribunes that Caesar is flying high above everybody's heads, and he's going to become. He's going to basically go out of sight and. And rain terror down on people without them knowing distance. Distance is separating him from everybody. And then this colossus thing where he's this huge body that's standing astride the city. So this is a giant man. And then it's this idea that Rome has shrunk to just this one guy. So you know, that. Then this is where Cassius says, there have been other men in Rome, basically. And one of them was a Brutus who would have brooked the eternal devil to keep his state in Rome as easily as a king. So there was the Brutus who. Who was. Who founded the Republic. There have been other people. Are you going to basically let this one man, you know, not only have his way or be just the number one guy, or just be the only guy who matters, but also kind of erase. Erase the legacy of your name and of your nobility? And this is where I'm seeing that there's this. You know, the republicans are behaving in ways which are actually more indicative, I think, of monarchy. Caesar and Antony both have this kind of divine right thing. And later, Antony, of course, will be making out a list of who's going to live and who's going to die. So there's that kind of autocratic power which is located in them, but in the republicans, there is this idea of nobility and of ancestry which seems to belie their whole bag. That seems to be the thing that's like, okay, I get, you know, that makes Brutus say, I get it. You know, I'm not gonna think about this anymore. But I hear you. And it does seem that Brutus is motivated by the. The nobility or the desire to keep alive this. This hereditary right to republicanism, to the idea that Rome has to be more than just one guy. It has to be a bunch of people. But it's Brutus's sort of divine right or his kingly cause, his honorable cause, to be the one who preserves Rome as a place for more than one guy. So he's sort of like uniquely ordained for republicanism. It's a very weird angle to go in on, but Cassius has to take it, you know, to basically get it so that Brutus will be flattered as being the equal of Caesar, but like, the equal and opposite of Caesar. 22:07 Wes: Yeah. So this appeal to honor ends with Brutus saying he'd rather be a villager than to repeat himself, a son of Rome under these hard conditions. And Cassius, I'm glad that my weak words have struck such a show of fire from Brutus. 22:21 Erin: That passes for fire, I guess. 22:23 Wes: Yeah. Right. So then we get this different Picture of how Caesar thinks of himself. This is where we will. Caesar is now passing by and Cassius and Brutus, they're planning to get a debrief from Casca and they can see something is wrong with Caesar and Calpurnia and Cicero, they look like they've just seen a ghost or something. And then we get this wonderful scene where Caesar observes to Mark Antony that Cassius has that lean and hungry look. Let me have men about me that are fat, sleek headed men and such as sleep nights. Young Cassius has a lean and hungry look. He thinks too much. Such men are dangerous. And then Antony says, no, he's not. And then Caesar, I think he suddenly moves to the idea that, oh, if I'm calling someone dangerous, Antony might think that I have fear. And so now he has to defend himself against an accusation that Antony hasn't made, but is in a way perhaps implicit in Antony's. Oh, no, sorry, it's not implicit fear. Him, not Caesar. Yes, it's right there in the text. Sorry, sorry, Antony does say it out loud. Okay. Antony uses this word fear. And then Caesar has to respond to that. He doesn't like that accusation, or that would he were fatter. But I fear him not. Yet if my name were liable to fear, I do not know. The man I should avoid so soon is that spare Cassius. He reads much. He is a great observer, and he looks quite through the deeds of men he loves. No plays as thou dost, Antony hears no music. Seldom he smiles and smiles in such a sort as if he mocked himself and scorned the spirit that could be moved to smile at anything. He just. He smiles to mock. Smiling, I love it. But here we get a clear portrait of someone who is being corrupted by power to some degree. He has to have this absurd belief that he is fearless even when he's detecting danger. Of course, how would you detect danger if you didn't feel any fear? How could he possibly know Cassius is dangerous if you weren't feeling fear? That's the way a normal person would do it. And then he'll end this by saying, I rather tell thee what is to be feared than what I fear. For always I am Caesar. And this is where we get one of these several allusions, that ironic allusions that Shakespeare is making to the double meaning of the name as I am Caesar, as if he's saying, I am king, but I'm Caesar. I'm not the type of guy who could feel fear and a divinely ordained king could not either. And then another little Touch of irony. He's like, well, come over to this side because I'm deaf in this ear. So we get another. Immediately the aftermath of that is we get a little portrait of his frailty in contrast to this self conceptionist. Fearless. 25:13 Erin: Right. I mean, this is the man who crossed the Rubicon and has behaved in ways which are fearless. And he has to kind of keep that up as his body is failing. 25:21 Wes: Yeah. Have you read the Conquest of Gaul at all? 25:24 Erin: I've read parts of it. I read all of Plutarch's lives back in the day. It's been a very long time. But. 25:30 Wes: But it's a very different. Right. Yeah. It does not. This is a very different Caesar than comes across in that book or even Antony and Cleopatra. This idea of him, you know, him being kind of a little bit doddering. Right. 25:46 Erin: It makes me feel a little bit of affection for him because of the kind of the silly disjuncture between. I'm not afraid of anything. And can you also speak into this ear, please, Because I'm feeble, you know, and we've just heard Brutus say, I love the name of honor more than I fear death. You know, so there is a culture of fear as the worst thing, fear as the womanly thing. So one has to constantly pay lip service to. And that seems to be what Caesar is doing. Right. Like, I have to keep reassuring people that I don't, or I have to keep saying this out loud and hopefully it'll be true. 26:22 Wes: Could say a bit about Casca's characterization of Caesar as, you know, rejecting the crown but really wanting it. And then he has an epileptic seizure. So another pointing once again to this frailty in Caesar. And the epileptic seizure, of course, becomes the storm. And as we'll see in a. Is representative of. It's not just literally that he's sick. It has something to do with his ambition and the unnaturalness of the ambition. But I just thought we could comment briefly on this dynamic between him and the crowd, because this is another case where we're right. The crowd is the mirror, in a way. And. And then there's the question of rhetorical tricks and flattery and all that stuff. And then Casca compares it to theater performance and he does this dramatic thing where he offers up himself to have his throat cut, but he apologizes for this fit that he has. And then the wenches forgive him. Casca says, if Caesar had stabbed their mothers, it would have been the same. So something's going on here about how he Manipulates the crowd. But it's a little bit vague to me. It's Greek to me. It's a little bit vague how all that was working. 27:46 Erin: I agree. It seems like he's almost embarrassed or he realized he overplayed to the crowd with the cutting his throat thing. Like, maybe it didn't go over that well. And then when he comes to, he's like, oh, I'm sorry if I said anything inappropriate. He's testing them by seeing how far he could take it. But at the same time, the most fascinating part of this for me is that assessment that you mentioned of Casca seeing it as like a theater performance. He says if the tag-rag people did not clap him and hiss him according as he pleased and displeased them as they used to do, the players in the theater. I am no true man. I thought about that for a long time because I was like, this is kind of a bizarre power dynamic, universal scene. 28:29 Wes: Yeah. 28:30 Erin: What, is Caesar throwing a fit if they don't cheer for him like he's a toddler? Or does he have one of those light up applause signs like they have during studio recordings of sitcoms? I don't think so. Right. Again, this is the failure of these conspirators to give credit to Caesar's own popularity. So rather than saying, gee, how come Caesar is so appealing to these people? They're like, what did Caesar do to get them to cheer for him like that? You know? Or like, he must have given them something. He must have given them some sign that they have to be cheering for him. You know what I mean? It's this fascinating psychological reversal. It's very. To me, it's just very indicative of envy. You know, it's. It can't be. They can't be cheering for him because they're cheering for him. It has to be that Caesar is somehow getting them to cheer for him. Right. Like there's a circuit that their minds are doing which is leaving out that Caesar merely knows how to work a crowd. And it's bypassing that to say that he's somehow getting them to clap for him in a way which is manipulative in some far more straightforward way than simply he knows how to work a crowd. Again, there's a discounting of Caesar's popularity, which I think is. Is really is going to be their downfall. 29:51 Wes: Yeah. Although after Brutus's speech, the crowd is quick to turn on Caesar. I mean, it does seem in line with the whole idea of fickleness. The tribunes, Right. Bring at the beginning. And I do, I kind of take Casca's account at face value because I think that's part of the point of indicating that he's kind of dull witted as to make us believe this account more. But. Right. And so here when Brutus says he has the falling sickness, Cassius says, no, he doesn't, we all have it. And then Casca is confused by that. So that's one of the reasons he gets called stupid. But yeah, I'm still confused by the dynamic. He sees that the crowd, that Casca's theory. Right. So we can, yeah, you know, Casca's interpretation we could be skeptical of if we'd like. But he, because it is a very confusing account, he sees that the crowd was glad he refused the crown. Then he does this thing where he offers to have his throat cut, which I don't get. I don't understand why he would do that or what that means because it seems to indicate. Is he saying I'm. I don't know what the point of that is, but whatever it is, it goes too far. That's the thing that, that dramatic gesture, I mean the whole clap in hiss thing suggests he's. Yeah, he's pandering to the crowd. He's being a performer, he's very in tune with what, what it is they want. And he's trying to calibrate everything he's doing to that. But perhaps the throat cutting thing is a little bit. He's too in touch with maybe the aggressive qualities of the crowd. Right. Because it's always a double edged sword. Worship and then sacrifice. Right. So one, you know, or he's flying too high, so to speak. He's flying a little bit too high and then he has that seizure, maybe gets frustrated. 31:38 Erin: Oh, here I'm refusing this crown for your sake. What do you want to cut my throat now? You know, maybe. 31:43 Wes: Well, that's the end. That's one possible. I guess that's the idea. It just seems like a weird, weird thing for him to do because the whole point of refusing the crown is to show that he's not power hungry. 31:57 Erin: Right. But if Cask is to be believed, then he really wants it and he's upset at having to refuse it. And that's why they've all come away upset, because Caesar's pissed that. Yeah. 32:07 Wes: Oh, I figured they were upset just because of the fact that it ended with an epileptic seizure. 32:13 Erin: Yeah, that could be it too. But then why would Caesar be angry and everybody look like they were chastised by him or something. Sounds like he came off stage and was like, what do those people want from me? And started yelling at everybody because he's a little bit of a diva or something. I mean, obviously he's a huge diva, so. Another reason why I love him. 32:31 Wes: Yeah. So we don't have to pause for a long time on any given scene, but. Or part of scene two, just where we still are. But after Brutus exits. Well, Brutus thou art. Cassius says, well, Brutus, thou art noble, yet I see thy honorable metal may be wrought from that it is disposed. Therefore it is meet that noble minds keep ever with their likes. For who so firm that cannot be seduced uses this word seduction. Caesar doth bear me hard, but he loves Brutus. If I were Brutus now, and he were Cassius, he should not humor me. So if I were Brutus, I wouldn't be won over by me. Cassius is basically admitting here to being a scoundrel and to actually corrupting. Right. He's right. The honorable metal is being wrought in a different right from that. It is disposed away from its true nature. This idea of nature and natural dispositions and natural causality and natural explanation is very important in this play, as in many other Shakespeare plays. But Brutus has a certain kind of character, a certain type of natural disposition, a certain metal. And Cassius is bending it to his will. But. Yeah, so I just want. That's all I wanted to say about that. Before we move on, I do want to talk about the storm quite a bit. 33:50 Erin: It. 33:50 Wes: My notes say there's a crazy storm. 33:54 Erin: Mine say man with hand on fire. 34:01 Wes: I was excited to see the. The storm in the movie, the way they would handle that. And it was pretty good. 34:06 Erin: Oh, gosh, I haven't. 34:07 Wes: But you could do more with it, obviously. 34:09 Erin: I think so. I don't remember any of that. 34:12 Wes: But if they were to do a movie today, I mean, there's so much you could do with cgi. You could really see all of these. This kind of surreal scene that's happening because it's not just any old storm. It's fire falling from the heavens and all the other stuff that they describe. But the reason why this interests me so much is because there's a series of interpretations of the meaning of the storm. Casca, Cicero, and then Cassius. Casca's naive idea, the one that Cassius is going to both Cicero in a way, and Cassius are going to scoff at, is that the storm is either caused by civil strife in heaven or the World too saucy with the gods, incenses them to send destruction. Right. The old. The gods are unhappy with us, and so they're sending destruction. And then Cicero inquires and he gets the account of. I love the line passing by for some reason is my favorite one. The he did glaze me, just being looked at and glazed upon me. 35:13 Erin: Oh, yes, yes. 35:14 Wes: Yeah. And Casca will say, don't let anyone say that these can be explained by natural reasons. You see some of this in King Lear as well and elsewhere. But this conflict between superstition and natural causality, this is kind of the pivot point at this period in history for this modern science is beginning to flourish and superstition is looking more like superstition. And he says, these are portentous things unto the climate that they point upon. So now, Casca goes on to a different idea, that there's an element of prophecy in this, let's say. And Cicero says, well, men construe things after their fashion. In other words, you're just. This is a projection of your own character or of your own fears. Cicero is a realist. He's a stoic and he's a realist. He's not like this superstitious Casca. 36:13 Erin: Yeah. Casca's list of things I just think is hilarious because it ends with the most uninteresting. He's like, there are men on fire walking up and down the streets. And last thing in the list, even at noonday, upon the marketplace, the bird of night, the owl sat, hooting, shrieking. It's like, okay, so there was an. Also an owl in the middle of the day. 36:32 Wes: Yeah. And I don't think Cicero. Yeah, I don't think Cicero believes a lot of this stuff. Yeah, the owl, sure. 36:38 Erin: But I don't. I don't think Rome Live at five is going to be, you know, like, showing footage. An owl hooting in the middle of the day. I think it might be focusing on the men on fire walking up and down the street. But 36:52 Wes: anyway, the dead coming out of their graves, as we'll learn later on 36:57 Erin: from the lions walking around the Rome Zoo was empty that day. 37:04 Wes: Cicero, I take as the second interpretation, 37:08 Erin: which is no interpretation. 37:09 Wes: Yeah. It is indeed a strange disposed time. But men may construe things after their fashion, clean from the purpose of the things themselves. In other words, this is all people's superstitious imagination. And then when Cassius comes, it's going to be. Casca's worried about the storm, and for Cassius is a pleasing night to Honest men who have known the earth so full of faults. So here it sounds a bit like Casca's idea that the gods are going to punish us for something we've done wrong. But I think Cassius idea is going to turn out to be that there's a certain type of fault in authority per se. This is partly why I think that the storm is Caesar's epileptic fit. And that Caesar's epileptic fit, the one that he experiences rejecting the crown, is sort of predicated on him flying too high a bit or something like that. Predicated on him being on the precipice of absolute power and then things falling apart at that point. So here's what Cassius says. Those that have known the earth so full of faults, for my part, I have walked about the streets, shows his breasts to heaven. He just says, go ahead, strike me, storm. And then Casca says, why would you tempt the heavens that way? And Cassius, you're a dull Casca. And those parts of life that should be in a Roman you do want, or else you. Or else you use not. You look pale, gaze and put on fear and cast yourself in wonder to see these strange impatience of the heavens. And then he gives his own little list of things that are happening. Old men's fools and children calculate. I love that one. Why all these things change from their ordinance, their natures. This idea of things changing their natures is what it's all about here. Which again is in parallel to. To people changing their characters, becoming corrupt. They change their natures and preformed faculties to monstrous quality. While you shall find that heaven hath infused them with these spirits to make them their instruments, to make them instruments of fear and warning under some monstrous state. Now I cask a name to thee, a man most like this dreadful night that thunders lightnings, opens graves and roars as doth the lion in the Capitol. A man no mightier than myself or me. He's on that track again. Caesar's really not that great, but yes. So Cassius directly compares Caesar to the storm. Later on, he's going to say. He's going to change his interpretation of the storm and say that what it represents is the rebellion as well. It represents the assassination. And in a way, that's one of the deeper themes in this play, is that the rebellion itself, I think, is part of your point about Brutus. But the rebellion itself kind of incorporates some of the same autocratic authoritarian qualities as the thing that they're rebelling against. 40:12 Erin: I'm interested in this idea of nature that you're talking about, or bending things from their nature. Because then he says, I know where I will wear this dagger. Then Cassius from bondage will deliver Cassius. So then he addresses the gods and says, therein, you gods, you make them weak, most strong therein. And you gods, you tyrants do defeat. Nor stony tower, nor walls of beaten brass, nor airless dungeon, nor strong links of iron. In the corner, I have a little note to myself. Cassius loves lists, and being on a roll can be retentive to the strength of spirit. But life, being weary of these worldly bars, never lacks power to dismiss itself. 40:51 Wes: So suicide is always a possible route to freedom. 40:54 Erin: It's always a possible right. We could always free ourselves that way. That part of tyranny that I do bear, I can shake off at pleasure. So I can just shake all of this off. I could just shake life off. 41:04 Wes: So can I. So can every bondman: in his own hand bears the power to cancel his captivity. 41:11 Erin: That's right. I can kill myself, too. We could all kill ourselves. And why should Caesar be a tyrant then? Poor man, I know he would not be a wolf, but that he sees the Romans are but sheep. 41:22 Wes: What trash is Rome, what rubbish and what offal when it serves for the base matter to illuminate so vile a thing as Caesar. What a great line. 41:32 Erin: This is all great. I just, you know, the lion thing. Yeah. So what is this about? This is about nature reflecting Caesar. Well, there's a lion walking around here because, you know, the Romans are just. I mean, I'm conflating the two, but there's an interesting contrast. This is all messaging about how the world is so bad and Caesar is causing all this, all these problems also. What can you do? Caesar's just being. Caesar's just taking advantage of the situation. You know, there's a lot of. I don't know what this is like. I can't tell quite what mood Cassius is in or whether he's sort of setting it up. So you can answer. 42:15 Wes: Yeah, I don't know if I can answer that, but I do want to emphasize, right, he makes this point, right? Things change from their ordinance, their natures and preformed faculties, Right? Because old men aren't supposed to calculate, right? By which he means, I guess, prophesy, but from the foot. From my footnote here in my text. But I just thought of. With old men, fools and children, just being really smart, doing math, like on a chalkboard, doing, like, a Good Will Hunting type of thing, and people freaked out oh my God. 42:50 Erin: What the hell is going on? 42:51 Wes: But you know. Yeah, right. The hand, when it burns, should burn up and people should be screaming in pain. But that's not happening. So it's against nature. And somehow for Cassius, that's what is monstrous. Right. What's monstrous is what stands out. It's almost like a miracle within the natural order. It stands out as not being part of the causal order or a genetic monstrosity. Right. Something has gone wrong. So when heaven makes them, uses that as instruments of fear and warning, Heaven is trying to say something unnatural is happening. And the unnatural man is the man who's most like this dreadful night is Caesar. There's something unnatural about him or there's something unnatural. And what's unnatural? Well, first of all, since authority is a social construct, it's unnatural in general. And then he's going to go on to make, make the case that by making the point that Caesar isn't a great man, that point is that no man can actually live up to the name, the role, the designation. We shouldn't equate the role and the authority of that role with the actual person. It's not of his essence, it's not of his nature. What's unnatural is when those two things get conflated. We conflate a particular person with this fantasy, right? And it can be a crowd created fantasy, the crowd mirroring back to the man some sort of monstrous self image, monstrous self conception. But if, yeah, we equate this grandiose image of power and the particular, because the role of course is powerful. But in any case, the two shouldn't be equated. And so that's where we get something perverted away from its nature. 44:43 Erin: Yeah. But then he says, well, it is natural for Caesar to have become a tyrant because the Roman people cast him in the role. 44:53 Wes: You know, that's a way of saying it's socially constructed. 44:55 Erin: Yes. 44:56 Wes: And what's socially constructed is precisely the opposite of the natural. It's not part of the essence of the thing, it's just part of. It's because the crowd believes it so that it makes it so. 45:07 Erin: But, and then I think, I think though at the end he kind of comes full circle in. There's a bit of a giving way in that, Right. You know, Caesar's this awful guy, but then also he's doing something which is natural to him. And then he says the complexion of the element and favors like the work we have in hand, most bloody, fiery and most terrible. So actually the fiery sky all of the. This is like the bloody work that we have to do in order to overcome. Right. So it comes full circle. So he sort of ends up reverse engineering the very thing that he's using as the sign of. 45:44 Wes: Yeah, he keeps changing his interpretation of the storm and where it ends up is the storm. You know, on the one hand the storm represents. And all the storm, which is to say all the unnatural, monstrous things that are happening, represent the monstrosity that is Caesar and the monstrosity that is the crown, that is the making of a monarch. The monstrosity of absolute power, let's put it this way, as opposed to power that answers the people. Although in this play the monstrous power is a function of the people in a weird sense. But anyway, he changes interpretation to say, yeah, the storm actually represents the work that we as the assassins must do. Which is, you know, an incredible pivot. 46:25 Erin: Right. 46:25 Wes: In a way you could say Cassius is sloppy. But you know, I think the real point is. Right, yeah. That the rebellion mirrors the thing that's being rebelled against. It carries the same unnatural, autocratic, authoritarian tendencies as represented by Brutus. Relationship to honor. 46:43 Erin: Yeah. What I love about this is the dramatic irony that this sets up. I mean, the fact that we know what's going to happen. The fact that even the characters on stage kind of know what's going to happen. It's as if there was a prophecy, this autocratic rule, this rule by one man and they're going to. Then, you know, and this is all part of this prophecy. And of course, by trying to eliminate, trying to eliminate a king, it produces the very thing that they tried to avoid. Right. So there's something in the circuit that Cassius's interpretation undergoes that seems to reflect this self fulfilling prophecy element of every self fulfilling prophecy. Right. And so in a way, the entire play functions that way. Or you could say the prophecy is that they're going to not be able to bring this about and die in suicide or something like that. And so it's as if the entire plot is intending to bring that about. Because it knows already what's going to happen. Because we know already what's going to happen. 47:38 Wes: So no, I think this is a really good point just because I think Shakespeare is thinking about what would have happened if Caesar had lived. You know, we know what did happen, which is just this whole sequence of events ensured that a monarchy, you know, came about and Octavius became emperor and all that stuff. What would have happened otherwise? Is it just that the conspirators made their own worst fears come true. 48:04 Erin: Yeah, exactly. Yeah, let's end with worst fears come true. That's great. Okay. 48:09 Wes: Worst fears come true. All right, on that note, we'll be doing another recording of this. We could just do another two or three. I mean, we could just do this forever. Could discuss this one. Play for the most. 48:24 Erin: We'll say there will be parts three and four, and then maybe parts five and six, depending on how fast we go. 48:29 Wes: And I'm in no hurry. I don't mind if the audience doesn't like it. They can boo and hiss and then I'm gonna fall down and have a fit. That's what I'm saying. 48:38 Erin: Sounds right. 48:39 Wes: Thank you. 48:39 Erin: Thank you. And thanks to everyone who listened. For an easy way to do that, go to subtextpodcast.com patreon.com please send your questions, feedback and episode requests to letters@subtextpodcast.com if we get enough questions, we'll do some bonus Q and A shows for subscribers. You can also find us on Facebook Subtext Podcast and on Twitter enjoysubtext.

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