Prospero's Books

Shakespeare behind Bars

Last month, in my "Shakespeare, Systems, and Intertextuality" course, I showed Hank Rogerson and Jilann Spitzmiller's film Shakespeare behind Bars, a 93-minute documentary on a production of The Tempest by inmates in Kentucky's Luther Luckett prison. Four observations:

• A prison, by definition, is a "closed system," increasing in entropy unless it can draw energy from outside. The introduction of The Tempest into the lives of the cast brings such energy, allowing for growth.
• The production process shown in the film is a remarkable example of how living systems grow and evolve by moving from organization through disorganization to reorganization. (The very word tempest suggests the necessary slip into chaos, and "chaos theory" can be said to have been born in Lorenz's study of complex weather systems.)
• With so little to distract them, the cast members--during several months of production--study and "live" their roles at a depth I've never seen before, in students or in actors. Shakespeare's fractal complexity constantly repays this effort.
• As the cast members perform a play that centers on forgiveness and redemption, they collectively and individually struggle with those issues in their own lives.

Shakespeare behind Bars is one of the best half-dozen Shakespeare films I've ever seen. I recommend it highly.

A little part of myself will survive

Yesterday Ingmar Bergman died, at the age of 89. I remember as a boy finding a whole new world in his films: The Seventh Seal, Wild Strawberries, The Virgin Spring, and others. Yesterday's New York Times quoted Bergman on his life's work:

I want to be one of the artists of the cathedral that rises on the plain. I want to occupy myself by carving out of stone the head of a dragon, an angel or a demon, or perhaps a saint; it doesn’t matter; I will find the same joy in any case. Whether I am a believer or an unbeliever, Christian or pagan, I work with all the world to build a cathedral because I am artist and artisan, and because I have learned to draw faces, limbs, and bodies out of stone. I will never worry about the judgment of posterity or of my contemporaries; my name is carved nowhere and will disappear with me. But a little part of myself will survive in the anonymous and triumphant totality. A dragon or a demon, or perhaps a saint, it doesn’t matter!

(Thanks to M. Allen Cunningham for the quotation.)

The dance along the artery

The animation company XVIVO has been winning awards for "Inner Life of the Cell," an animation produced for the Molecular and Cellular Biology Program at Harvard. The best-looking version of the film I've seen is at Harvard's own Multimedia Production Site, where it can also be downloaded free for educational purposes.

The film takes my breath away. The only words I can think of to describe it are from T. S. Eliot's "Burnt Norton," the first of his Four Quartets, one of the great spiritual poems of the last century:

The dance along the artery
The circulation of the lymph
Are figured in the drift of stars

Have a look, and you'll see exactly what I mean.

Beliefnet Film Awards

Beliefnet has announced the nominees for its 2007 Beliefnet Film Awards, in three categories: Best Spiritual Film, Best Spiritual Performance, and Best Spiritual Documentary.

If, like me, you've missed many of these films on the big screen, the list looks good for renting and Tivo-ing.

Shakespeare on film

Duncan Macleod and Ennis Macleod, in Australia, have begun a blog, Duncan's Shakespeare, reviewing film adaptations of Shakespeare, with links to other reviews and information.

Little Girl Giant

I have not been able to find out much about this film, but please have a look at it. Somehow it seems to fit this blog. At the very least, the Little Girl Giant shows a sense of wonder like that of Prospero's daughter, Miranda.

lastsyllable.net

My daughter, Casey, Development Director at the Baltimore Shakespeare Festival, this week introduced me to a great blog, lastsyllable.net, by Rachel Lee Cherry, a friend and supporter of the BSF. Rachel had me at her tagline: "Wrong about Shakespeare in a new way."

Rachel has come up with a great plan for this year's Blogathon. I'll let her tell you about it:

Yes, dear readers, I’m participating in this year’s Blogathon. I’ll be making a post every half hour for 24 hours, starting at 9 a.m. EST on July 29. Please sponsor me! Your pledges go directly to the Baltimore Shakespeare Festival, a 501(c)(3) nonprofit. You can pledge an amount per hour that I blog, or you can just pledge a lump sum. The Blogathon doesn’t set a minimum amount, but BSF’s online donations are handled via JustGive.org, which does set a minimum of $5.

Me, I’ll be stocking up on Mountain Dew and Twizzlers, and during the Blogathon I’ll be reading Richard III and posting scene-by-scene literary (I hope) criticism, then screening Ian McKellen’s 1995 movie version and posting commentary. After that, I’ll slog through Titus Andronicus, which I haven’t yet read, followed by Anthony Hopkins’ version (1999). That should take me most of the way through — if it doesn’t, I have a Taming of the Shrew/10 Things I Hate About You backup plan — and I plan to end by screening Shakespeare in Love. History, tragedy, comedy, all in 24 hours. Sound like fun?

Please take a moment and sponsor now. Operators are standing by!

Since I'm way too old to stay awake for 24 straight hours, I'm participating in the Blogathon vicariously, through Rachel. I've made my sponsorship pledge, and I plan to comment on some of her Blogathon postings. I like Julie Taymor's film of Titus a lot.

An Inconvenient Truth

The new film An Inconvenient Truth, based on Al Gore's campaign to turn back global warming, is both disturbing and inspiring, with powerful photography and graphics and a dramatic score. Best of all, it ends with practical steps every viewer can take. Please see it, and visit its site.

Tyger

One of the most strikingly mythic short films I've seen in a while is Tyger, directed by Guilherme Marcondes, under a grant from the British Council in Brazil.

The film is inspired by William Blake's 1794 poem, "The Tyger," which ends:

When the stars threw down their spears,
And watered heaven with their tears,
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?

Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

(Thanks to Wired for the link.)

Pay no attention to that man behind the curtain

During lunch with Scott Weeden today, I was reminded of another illustration of the point made in my preceding post. In The Wizard of Oz (the movie at least; I haven't read the novel), the Wizard is first seen by Dorothy and her three friends as the wise sage, the magus who can solve all their problems. But in fact, their expectations are met only when the Wizard abdicates his magus role and plays the trickster role, setting tasks or obstacles for the four. By overcoming these obstacles, Dorothy and her friends find within themselves what they desire: a brain, a heart, courage, and the means of going home.