Vagabond Heart
Full Member
- Feb 21, 2021
21. As You Like It
In a nutshell, nothing happens then some people get married.
And The Hungry Caterpillar has a more believable plot.
Plus, if we take Shakespeare’s word for it, then Elizabethan England was teeming with women dressed as men, gallivanting about for the flimsiest of reasons.
Take Rosalind: she and Celia are heading off into the woods because Celia’s dad has decided to kill her (she didn’t do anything wrong, obviously). So, she’ll dress as a boy to stop them being pestered as two girls alone. Fair enough, you say - apart from the fact that they are taking a man with them as well. For protection.
So why does she need to dress as a boy, and - more importantly - why doesn’t Celia need to?
Spoiler alert - neither the guy who loves her or her own dad recognise her now she’s dressed as a boy. But a girl she meets twice instantly knows who she is once she puts her frock back on.
So what I’m saying is don’t expect anything in this play to be logical or you will drive yourself mental. Which would be a shame, as it has some lovely bits.
Most famous of these is the ‘All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players’ speech. Which is great. And also the high point.
However, it does boast an unusual number of phrases that we still employ today, such as:
...too much of a good thing...
...neither rime nor reason...
...for ever and a day.
And the Dramatis Personae lists two characters called Jacques (cos that’s not confusing), and ‘a person representing HYMEN’ (seriously? But it’s ok if a bit weird, because Auntie Google says he’s the God of marriage. Phew.)
This line, from Silvius (a nobody), is pure joy - ‘...in thy youth thou wast as true a lover as ever sigh’d upon a midnight pillow.’
But my favourite Shakespearian line so far belongs to Celia, who really knows how to be excited: - ‘O wonderful, wonderful, and most wonderful wonderful! and yet again wonderful, and after that, out of all whooping!’ You go, girl.
5/10
22. Twelfth Night
Wonderful play; kicks off with the whole, ‘If music be the food of love, play on,’ thing, and is a joy to read.
But, like many of the comedies, is still a bit logically suspect.
For instance, we have Viola, who is shipwrecked and grieving at the loss of her brother (presumed drowned). She’s fetched up in Illyria, where she hears about two households: -
One is the house of a nice lady mourning the death of her own brother. A place where Viola could be herself, and where she’d be understood and sympathised with, and where she and the nice lady could support each other through their grief. Sounds a good fit, right?
The other place has the local duke, pining for said nice lady, and being a self-centred, pushy, won’t-take-no-for-an-answer, totally extra dick. Where she’d have to be in disguise, push all her own feelings down, and do his bidding.
I bet you can’t guess which household Shakespeare shoves her into, can you?
Honestly, I reckon Will was only happy when he had a man dressed as a woman dressed as a man to mess about with.
And he thinks he’s being soooo clever here, having Fabian practically leaping the fourth wall saying, ‘If this were play’d upon a stage now, I could condemn it as an improbable fiction.’ Shhh, keep it quiet, Will; we’re trying to gloss over those bits.
There’s some great stuff here tho - and I mean that quite literally. That speech about some people being born great, some achieving greatness, and some having greatness thrust upon them? That’s in this one.
It comes from Maria, who writes it in a letter to Malvolio. It’s a fabulous line, but does she get to say it? No, cos she’s not dressed as a man. A bloke gets to read it out. Oh joy. (Can’t tell you how delighted I was with the National Theatre Online’s version, which had Tamsin Grieg saying it.)
But this play skips along nicely, even if it’s a bit odd (well, cold) when Viola realises her brother didn’t drown after all, yet won’t even consider giving him a hug until she’s had time to change back into a frock.
7/10
23. Hamlet
If you like a bit of Shakespeare then this is the mother-load. Pretty much every quote you've ever heard of comes from this play (apart from the one that begins and ends with the word 'Romeo', obviously).
There's the wonderful soliloquies we all know and love, that start, 'To be or not to be...' and, 'Alas, poor Yorick...'
But there's also a lot of familiar phrases like, 'there's method in my madness', 'murder most foul', 'the lady doth protest too much', 'the witching hour', 'being cruel to be kind', 'the dog will have his day', and - weirdly - 'willy nilly', all getting into our language via this portal.
The line of succession in the Danish Royal Family is a bit mystifying: if Prince Hamlet is of age when the King dies (and he is, cos he's at university), then why does the King's brother inherit the throne? So, it's a wee bit Game of Thrones.
But Hamlet tho: his much-loved dad has died, and four weeks (yes, you heard me - FOUR WEEKS) later his slutty mum has married his dad's slime-ball of a brother. A mere month after that and everyone is having a pop at Hamlet for still being upset about dad. They are united in thinking he should be past all that grieving stuff, and are seriously considering the idea that he's lost his wits. Pot calling the kettle black, if you ask me.
Ergo he's not in a good place when dead dad crops up as a ghost, and demands revenge for having been murdered by Shitty-bastard brother. Ooh, so actually it's Game of Thrones does Dickens' A Christmas Carol.
And now Hamlet is a man on a mission, but the only time he gets Uncle Shitty-bastard alone is when he's praying, and to kill him during confession would be an epic fail in terms of revenge. So he kills someone else. Which is fine, because he was annoying. But then not so fine, because it was his girlfriend's dad.
Ok, so it's Game of Thrones does A Christmas Carol in Albert Square. And really, what more do you want from a play?
So is this Dane the greatest?
Yup, I think so. 10/10
24. Troilus and Cressida
This is set during the Trojan wars - remember those? Kicked off when Paris made off with Helen, the loss of whose face caused the launch of a thousand ships? And was finally won by the smuggling in of soldiers in the Trojan Horse? Yeah? Well, none of that happens in this play.
So this is year seven, where everyone is bored with the whole thing, and Achilles won’t come out of his tent. And a thousand ships may well have been launched in the decade of this war, but this year Helen’s only been worth sixty-nine of them.
Plus, there’s the weirdness of Hector, who is so fed up after having a bad day at war he's giving himself some time off by ... challenging someone on the other side to a duel. Yup, made no sense to me either.
And then, instead of the fight to the death it was supposed to be, he decides he can’t kill the guy because that’s his cousin. So, after the fight, they all go off and get drunk together, and get invited to dine in the General’s tent (of the opposing side).
Of course the next day it’s back to war again, and he’s actively trying to kill his cousin because this is now his day job. Hector, mate, you’re a bit of a dick.
And there’s the problem of classification. You can’t call this a comedy if the big hitters in the cast don’t make it through the last act. And you can’t call it a tragedy if half of it is wordplay, clowning and puns.
Nor is it a love story (despite the title), because Troilus and Cressida love each other only until she meets Diomedes. And then she’s all, ‘Oooh, hello cutie-pie, I know I swore I’d love Troilus forever, but you’re kinda nice too.’ The slut.
So, a bit of a mish-mash, but with some nice lines.
My favourite is from Thersites: - ‘ I am a bastard too; I love bastards: I am a bastard begot, bastard instructed, bastard in mind, bastard in valour, in every thing illegitimate.’ He’s not wrong.
But hey, Kirk is now firmly positioned well past the halfway mark.
Even so, 2/10.
25. All’s Well That Ends Well
Finally, a really awesome female character that DOESN’T have to put on men’s clothes in order to say what she means, and get some good lines.
Helena is an absolute sweetheart, and smart as a whip, being the only person in Spain who can cure the King of ... something (not sure what, but not the point, so it doesn’t matter).
Everyone likes her, except Bertram - the guy she’s in love with.
He’s a predatory, self-absorbed, over-entitled snot-sucker, who thinks Helena is so far beneath him she's not even worth being polite to.
Despite the fact that the King thinks she’s fantastic and worth every honour he can bestow on her, Bertram is having none of it.
After lots of fairly entertaining how do’s, there’s a sort of happy ending where Bertram, tricked into making Helena preggers, agrees to honour their marriage. But he clearly hasn’t changed a bit, so I’m confused as to why she even wants the dirtbag.
No famous lines, but I rather liked, ‘Virginity breeds mites, much like a cheese.’
And also these categories of bums - the pin-buttock, the quatch-buttock, and the brawn-buttock (which I leave entirely up to your imagination).
Plus I dare you to find a more aspirational job title than this - a taffeta punk. Which is a whore! Seriously, how great is that?
6/10
In a nutshell, nothing happens then some people get married.
And The Hungry Caterpillar has a more believable plot.
Plus, if we take Shakespeare’s word for it, then Elizabethan England was teeming with women dressed as men, gallivanting about for the flimsiest of reasons.
Take Rosalind: she and Celia are heading off into the woods because Celia’s dad has decided to kill her (she didn’t do anything wrong, obviously). So, she’ll dress as a boy to stop them being pestered as two girls alone. Fair enough, you say - apart from the fact that they are taking a man with them as well. For protection.
So why does she need to dress as a boy, and - more importantly - why doesn’t Celia need to?
Spoiler alert - neither the guy who loves her or her own dad recognise her now she’s dressed as a boy. But a girl she meets twice instantly knows who she is once she puts her frock back on.
So what I’m saying is don’t expect anything in this play to be logical or you will drive yourself mental. Which would be a shame, as it has some lovely bits.
Most famous of these is the ‘All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players’ speech. Which is great. And also the high point.
However, it does boast an unusual number of phrases that we still employ today, such as:
...too much of a good thing...
...neither rime nor reason...
...for ever and a day.
And the Dramatis Personae lists two characters called Jacques (cos that’s not confusing), and ‘a person representing HYMEN’ (seriously? But it’s ok if a bit weird, because Auntie Google says he’s the God of marriage. Phew.)
This line, from Silvius (a nobody), is pure joy - ‘...in thy youth thou wast as true a lover as ever sigh’d upon a midnight pillow.’
But my favourite Shakespearian line so far belongs to Celia, who really knows how to be excited: - ‘O wonderful, wonderful, and most wonderful wonderful! and yet again wonderful, and after that, out of all whooping!’ You go, girl.
5/10
22. Twelfth Night
Wonderful play; kicks off with the whole, ‘If music be the food of love, play on,’ thing, and is a joy to read.
But, like many of the comedies, is still a bit logically suspect.
For instance, we have Viola, who is shipwrecked and grieving at the loss of her brother (presumed drowned). She’s fetched up in Illyria, where she hears about two households: -
One is the house of a nice lady mourning the death of her own brother. A place where Viola could be herself, and where she’d be understood and sympathised with, and where she and the nice lady could support each other through their grief. Sounds a good fit, right?
The other place has the local duke, pining for said nice lady, and being a self-centred, pushy, won’t-take-no-for-an-answer, totally extra dick. Where she’d have to be in disguise, push all her own feelings down, and do his bidding.
I bet you can’t guess which household Shakespeare shoves her into, can you?
Honestly, I reckon Will was only happy when he had a man dressed as a woman dressed as a man to mess about with.
And he thinks he’s being soooo clever here, having Fabian practically leaping the fourth wall saying, ‘If this were play’d upon a stage now, I could condemn it as an improbable fiction.’ Shhh, keep it quiet, Will; we’re trying to gloss over those bits.
There’s some great stuff here tho - and I mean that quite literally. That speech about some people being born great, some achieving greatness, and some having greatness thrust upon them? That’s in this one.
It comes from Maria, who writes it in a letter to Malvolio. It’s a fabulous line, but does she get to say it? No, cos she’s not dressed as a man. A bloke gets to read it out. Oh joy. (Can’t tell you how delighted I was with the National Theatre Online’s version, which had Tamsin Grieg saying it.)
But this play skips along nicely, even if it’s a bit odd (well, cold) when Viola realises her brother didn’t drown after all, yet won’t even consider giving him a hug until she’s had time to change back into a frock.
7/10
23. Hamlet
If you like a bit of Shakespeare then this is the mother-load. Pretty much every quote you've ever heard of comes from this play (apart from the one that begins and ends with the word 'Romeo', obviously).
There's the wonderful soliloquies we all know and love, that start, 'To be or not to be...' and, 'Alas, poor Yorick...'
But there's also a lot of familiar phrases like, 'there's method in my madness', 'murder most foul', 'the lady doth protest too much', 'the witching hour', 'being cruel to be kind', 'the dog will have his day', and - weirdly - 'willy nilly', all getting into our language via this portal.
The line of succession in the Danish Royal Family is a bit mystifying: if Prince Hamlet is of age when the King dies (and he is, cos he's at university), then why does the King's brother inherit the throne? So, it's a wee bit Game of Thrones.
But Hamlet tho: his much-loved dad has died, and four weeks (yes, you heard me - FOUR WEEKS) later his slutty mum has married his dad's slime-ball of a brother. A mere month after that and everyone is having a pop at Hamlet for still being upset about dad. They are united in thinking he should be past all that grieving stuff, and are seriously considering the idea that he's lost his wits. Pot calling the kettle black, if you ask me.
Ergo he's not in a good place when dead dad crops up as a ghost, and demands revenge for having been murdered by Shitty-bastard brother. Ooh, so actually it's Game of Thrones does Dickens' A Christmas Carol.
And now Hamlet is a man on a mission, but the only time he gets Uncle Shitty-bastard alone is when he's praying, and to kill him during confession would be an epic fail in terms of revenge. So he kills someone else. Which is fine, because he was annoying. But then not so fine, because it was his girlfriend's dad.
Ok, so it's Game of Thrones does A Christmas Carol in Albert Square. And really, what more do you want from a play?
So is this Dane the greatest?
Yup, I think so. 10/10
24. Troilus and Cressida
This is set during the Trojan wars - remember those? Kicked off when Paris made off with Helen, the loss of whose face caused the launch of a thousand ships? And was finally won by the smuggling in of soldiers in the Trojan Horse? Yeah? Well, none of that happens in this play.
So this is year seven, where everyone is bored with the whole thing, and Achilles won’t come out of his tent. And a thousand ships may well have been launched in the decade of this war, but this year Helen’s only been worth sixty-nine of them.
Plus, there’s the weirdness of Hector, who is so fed up after having a bad day at war he's giving himself some time off by ... challenging someone on the other side to a duel. Yup, made no sense to me either.
And then, instead of the fight to the death it was supposed to be, he decides he can’t kill the guy because that’s his cousin. So, after the fight, they all go off and get drunk together, and get invited to dine in the General’s tent (of the opposing side).
Of course the next day it’s back to war again, and he’s actively trying to kill his cousin because this is now his day job. Hector, mate, you’re a bit of a dick.
And there’s the problem of classification. You can’t call this a comedy if the big hitters in the cast don’t make it through the last act. And you can’t call it a tragedy if half of it is wordplay, clowning and puns.
Nor is it a love story (despite the title), because Troilus and Cressida love each other only until she meets Diomedes. And then she’s all, ‘Oooh, hello cutie-pie, I know I swore I’d love Troilus forever, but you’re kinda nice too.’ The slut.
So, a bit of a mish-mash, but with some nice lines.
My favourite is from Thersites: - ‘ I am a bastard too; I love bastards: I am a bastard begot, bastard instructed, bastard in mind, bastard in valour, in every thing illegitimate.’ He’s not wrong.
But hey, Kirk is now firmly positioned well past the halfway mark.
Even so, 2/10.
25. All’s Well That Ends Well
Finally, a really awesome female character that DOESN’T have to put on men’s clothes in order to say what she means, and get some good lines.
Helena is an absolute sweetheart, and smart as a whip, being the only person in Spain who can cure the King of ... something (not sure what, but not the point, so it doesn’t matter).
Everyone likes her, except Bertram - the guy she’s in love with.
He’s a predatory, self-absorbed, over-entitled snot-sucker, who thinks Helena is so far beneath him she's not even worth being polite to.
Despite the fact that the King thinks she’s fantastic and worth every honour he can bestow on her, Bertram is having none of it.
After lots of fairly entertaining how do’s, there’s a sort of happy ending where Bertram, tricked into making Helena preggers, agrees to honour their marriage. But he clearly hasn’t changed a bit, so I’m confused as to why she even wants the dirtbag.
No famous lines, but I rather liked, ‘Virginity breeds mites, much like a cheese.’
And also these categories of bums - the pin-buttock, the quatch-buttock, and the brawn-buttock (which I leave entirely up to your imagination).
Plus I dare you to find a more aspirational job title than this - a taffeta punk. Which is a whore! Seriously, how great is that?
6/10
