Shakespeare's "Henry IV Part I"

Every month I (try to) read and blog about at least one Shakespeare play. This month's play is The History of Henry the Fourth.

"Henry IV Part I" is the first history play of Shakespeare that I have ever read. (I know--it surprises me too.) The story is about those who conspire against him, and those who rise up to fight against the conspirators.

I expected to be bored, and was pleasantly surprised by how funny and entertaining the play was. It had so many farcical scenes that it read almost like a comedy, with a memorable character like Sir John Falstaff, who was just ridiculous. I was also captivated by Prince Harry "Hal", who gave up his careless ways to prove to his father that he was a deserving heir to the throne. While there was a good scene between Henry and his son, the play wasn't really about their relationship; while the conspiracy was the central plot, it wasn't elaborated and well executed (unlike, for example, the conspiracy in "Julius Caesar"). Henry was accused by his conspirators of breaking the promises he had given them, of forgetting those who had helped him to the throne, but his character was neither honored or condemned. The play, then, was not about the moral behind the story. I don't know what it is that history plays are meant to be, but nowadays when I go see a play that I haven't read before, it is simply to sit back and be told a story, and I can imagine this play being quite interesting on stage despite lacking the elements that might have made it a great work of literature.

(Did anyone notice how I just talked about literature in past tense?)

This and That

And another week had just gone by.

I've been swamped, constantly getting called in to cover other people's shifts. It is possible that this will continue to happen for the next couple of weeks. Anyway, it is one of the reasons I haven't been updating.

I've been meaning to pick up some books that have writing exercises in them so that I can do my weekly exercise entry, but of course I've been too lazy to even do that. As a result there won't be one of those entries this week.

I am reading "Henry IV." That's going to be the Shakespeare entry of the month. Hopefully I'll be able to get a short story read by the end of next week as well. I also have to cook something...

I'm out of school but still overwhelmed--this time by my own ambitions, which is good; it means I'm not wasting time and constantly pushing myself and working my brain.

This and That

No writing exercise this week.

Probably won't do another one again.

Writing exercises are something you do in private, not on a blog.

Also, I'm working on other writing projects right now and would rather continue doing that instead of wasting my time doing exercises.

Yes, I fail at keeping at it.

But I will make up for it somehow.

As planned, by the end of the month there will be a post about a Shakespeare play, a short story, and a food dish. These I still intend to do.

Meanwhile, check out a piece of my beautiful city:

Eugene O'Neil's "Long Day's Journey Into Night"

Every month I will write about one Shakespeare play and one non-Shakespearean play. This month's non-Shakespearean play is Eugene O'Neil's "Long Day's Journey Into Night."

As always I try to find a way to write about something without giving away the plot. Most of the works I write about are the ones I want everybody to read.

I recently saw a production of Arthur Miller's "All My Sons," a drama about a dysfunctional family. Not long after I read O'Neil's "Long Day" and found that the two plays bare some similarity: both plays are set in a period of one day, they are about a family wherein its members are troubled by personal guilts that plague their relationships with one another. The difference, however, is that Miller's play has a resolution; there is a point of explosion in which the tension that has been building up climaxes; O'Neil's work offers no such thing.

This one day in the life of the Tyrone family is full of revelations; each member of the family lets us see the skeleton in their closet. I wonder if a material like this makes for a good theatrical experience. Imagine sitting through an intense tragedy wherein a whole lot of serious problems are introduced with absolutely no resolution--that doesn't sound like a pleasant evening at the theater, does it? As we get to know each member of the family better, we wonder how they could possibly live together still. Each member blames themselves for the tragedy of another, and they also blame others for their own tragedy. They must really love each other to be able to live together still, but it is also clear that they also have an intense hatred for each other.

Each character has his or her own dream, what they want their lives to be like, but those dreams had become impossible because of their preexisting life. Mary Tyrone, for example, longs for the days when she was a schoolgirl in a convent. She believed that she could have been a concert pianist or a nun, and that those things would have been better than what she had become. She blames her marriage with James for depriving her of those opportunities.

As I said before, there is no climax. The characters simply tell us their problems, and they have just finished their stories by the time the play ends. One can only imagine what would happen to the family next; are they going to kill each other? Maybe they will kill themselves. Or maybe they will continue living their lives in misery.

With extensive descriptions, the play almost reads like a novel. O'Neil, one of the most prominent American playwrights, had intended for this play to be published 25 years after his death. (It was in fact published only 3 years later, with permission of his wife Carlotta, to whom the play is dedicated.) Perhaps he didn't mean for it to be performed. It certainly is a good read; the characterization of these people is both heartfelt and powerful. It might actually make you appreciate your family more.

"West Side Story" (film)

I just watched "West Side Story" again for the first time in years.

I remember the time before I started studying Shakespeare, when I thought "Romeo & Juliet" was stupid. I also didn't like "West Side Story" the first time I saw it, thinking it was based on a story that didn't deserve to be told again. Here we have two teenagers, stupid enough to fall in love overnight, then spend the rest of the play risking their lives and causing troubles for a whole lot of others until they, at last, they die. But of course, I was young then, and dumb.

What makes the Shakespeare play works isn't much different from what makes the musical works. Shakespeare's flowery language makes the story believable. Sure, anybody who has actually been in love knows that it ain't that easy, but you are taken into the realm of fiction, wherein his words make the love seem real. They peer through to our heart and remind us what it feels like to love. Maybe this love is romantic and not realistic, but we all know how it feels, don't we?

As I watched the musical, the lovers were getting on my nerve a little bit. I didn't like how quickly Tony and Maria became so emotionally involved with each other. The film expands over about two days, and already there were talks of love and marriage? Get real! However, my annoyance went away as soon as they started singing. Just as Shakespeare's language makes the love story come alive, the music by Leonard Bernstein and the words by Stephen Sondheim do the same for the musical. During the balcony scene, for example, the lovers sing a song called "Tonight, Tonight," whose lyrics carefully focus on the feelings of the characters on that particular moment, how the world has changed, and how their meeting had marked the beginning of a new life for both of them. If they were saying those lines I would probably continue to be annoyed, but in songs I can believe just about anything. There are some stories that work on stage and not on screen; I think the theater has more power to convince the audience of unbelievable things than films do, and most film audiences expect things to be more believable, unless they pay to see a sci-fi or a fantasy. Fortunately this film is a musical, and it has some of the best songs ever written, which made me sympathize with Tony and Maria.

The cinematography is brilliant; it is what makes the film not just one of the best movie musicals but one of the best films ever made. The choreographies are some of the most outstanding I have ever seen. The only thing that I thought should have been better is the singing; most of the singing was dubbed by other singers, and I just don't think they do that good of a job. I was particularly dissatisfied by Tony's singing. But that isn't a major issue.

I found myself crying several times, all during songs. I don't think the same story can be updated to modern time unless it uses Shakespeare's text or unless it's a musical. That's why musical is a necessary genre; it doesn't only entertain but it can tell a different kind of story that non-musicals cannot.

5 Monologues

I almost forgot to do this. I remembered it on Wednesday and thought I would wait until later in the week. I have been working on other writings, which was why I didn't want to take the time from that to do this. But now it's time. I'm trying to take this blogging thing super seriously because it's giving me what I need--a schedule. And with a schedule comes motivation. Even though I have to take my time off of doing other things to do this, it's actually motivating me to do those other things.

So here's this week's "5 Monologues" entry:

(This exercise is boring as hell. Hopefully by next week I'll find a different writing exercise to replace it.)


SUITCASE

I just bought a new suitcase. It's blue and old-fashioned, something often seen in old movies. I had wanted it for so long, so when I found one at an antique shop the other day for only $10 I just knew I had to buy it. I love suitcases; there was a time in my life when I traveled so much, and my suitcase was like my friend, my traveling companion. I had one that came with me from Thailand to the US, then I took it to several other cities in the US. It belonged to the family, however, so I never really felt like it was mine completely. But now that I just bought my first ever suitcase, it will be mine and mine alone. Wherever I go from now on it'll go with me. We will create new memories together.


SHOT GLASSES

I went to Chicago a few years ago on a choir tour. During the trip my friends went to a souvenir store where some of them bought shot glasses. At the time I didn't drink and didn't approve of underage drinking, so I made a scene about how drinking was bad and blah blah blah. My opinion had changed over the next couple of years, and shot glasses had become the one thing I always buy wherever I go. I never use them because I hate taking shots and never do it at home, but I still like collecting them. I keep them hidden in my kitchen cabinet, which really isn't the place for souvenirs. I'll find a new place to display them once I have a big enough collection.


SOCKS

During the first couple of years of my puberty, my feet sweated and stank a lot. I don't mind admitting that now because the problem had ceased years ago. I used to feel embarrassed about it. There were times when my socks were some of the most disgusting things in the world, so moist and stinky you can smell them from feet away. (Ha ha, feet away.) I had tried different brands of spray and powder, but neither worked. Until one day I tried rubbing hand sanitizer on them before I put on my socks. I had always thought the smell of hand sanitizer was too strong, so I thought it would work perfectly for my feet. The result was satisfactory. I continued to use this method for a while until I got lazy and stopped. But by then my feet no longer stank.


CELLPHONE

I used to want a cell phone so bad. When I was younger I used to make several phone calls a night to people who probably didn't want to talk to me. (I was a lonely and annoying little boy, it's safe to say.) Having a phone to me was a dream; it would give me complete privacy. Little did I know how much money was involved in buying a phone and using it. Many years later when I had stopped caring so much about it, my dad bought me a cellphone. It was amazing how quickly the device consumed my life, how it became a necessity, how naked I felt when I left it at home. I have had many cellphones since then, but now it is no longer important to me. Sometimes I leave it at home intentionally just so nobody could bother me. I'm not too attached to it anymore--I have grown out of it--and that is a good thing.


WATER

I drink a lot of water. I've been doing it ever since I was a child, and started doing it more in high school when I sang a lot. My voice constantly got sick in high school, and it would take a lot of time for it to heal because of all the singing I was doing. I thought that drinking water would protect the voice, but it didn't work all that well. I continued drinking a lot of water despite finding out over the years that it really doesn't help to prevent sickness or help me to get over a flu quicker. Eight glasses of water will do--more than that isn't going to make a difference.

Lorrie Moore's "Self-Help" (part 2)

I finally finished Lorrie Moore's "Self-Help." My opinion of it stays the same as the last time I wrote about it--the stories are great individually, but the repetitiousness makes Moore seem a weaker writer than what she is. You often hear people say that writers should write what they know, but if all you know is cancer and adultery and going insane then perhaps you should learn some new things.

In the last story of the collection entitled "To Fill," Moore experiments with a style different from her other stories. She uses no quotation marks and very minimal commas in order to replicate an inner voice of a woman slowly driven to madness. The story is similar to previous stories in the collection; her husband is having an affair, she is unsatisfied with her life, her mother is sick, she is sick, et cetera. As always Moore has the ability to thoroughly explores the mentality of her narrator and convey it beautifully on the page, but after reading several similar stories these insights can be quite boring. How many hysterical women fighting with how many cheating husbands can you stand? (The first story of the collection, "How to Be an Other Woman," is probably the most unique, as it is about the other woman for a change and not a victimized wife.)

I'm not exactly riveted by "To Fill." It is rather long and contains too many issues: depression, amnesia, adultery, theft, et cetera. It's not a good story to end the collection, because it doesn't really offer enough magic. I was more captivated by other stories in the middle and think they would serve better as a closure. However, Moore's ability to entertain and capture attention never disappoints; she keeps me reading even when she has no surprises left. Though each narrator is different, their voices are still similar. As gifted a writer as she is, her range and versatility stand to be better. I would say buy the book, read one story, put it away and go read other things, come back to it after a few months and read the next story. You will appreciate it more that way.