The Father, by August Strindberg, Reviewed

This Swedish tragedy in three acts from the end of the nineteenth century is, of course, a literary classic. All three acts take place within the same, confined, setting, adding an element of claustrophobia to the narrow society depicted.

In its original Swedish, I suspect the language contains elements of poetic presentation that are lost in translation. Nevertheless, the dialogue is rich and complex, expressing a great range of emotions. The battle of the sexes that appears as the superficial theme of the play, is, of course, simply a literary device to carry the more contemporaneously dangerous theme of religious hypocrisy.

In the days before genetics was properly understood, the Father’s obsession with the question of paternity is understandable, vaguely pathetic but, at the same time, laudable. He wants what he perceives as the best for his child, but his motives are basically selfish, in that his reason for wanting her to be brought up with his beliefs is so that his own ‘spirit’ will have continued existence after his death. His concern, therefore, is not for his daughter, but for himself. Of course, this is the typical obsession of most religions: the safety of the supplicant’s soul being the driving force that’s supposed to make such followers into ‘good’ people.

A man of science, he’s plagued by doubts, and these uncertainties inevitably bleed into his faith. As more knowledge becomes available through scientific discovery, so the position of certainty that was previously held by the various churches rapidly becomes undermined. It’s within this world of change and its accompanying questioning of fundamental creeds that the play is set.

None of the characters in this play come out well. They are all driven by selfish motives and although love is recruited by the main players, it’s a false love, driven by selfish concerns rather than by care for those for whom it’s expressed.

Of its time in the way that women are considered less important than men, its employment of the Omphale myth demonstrates the Father’s ultimate feelings of emasculation by what he sees as his wife’s tricks.

This is tragedy in the true sense of the word; the flawed hero brought down by his inability to understand and modify his own character to deal with realities. Although not an entertainment, this is a play I would gladly see performed, were it ever produced at a theatre accessible to me.

Alphabetical Order, a Play by Michael Frayn, Reviewed

Michael Frayn - Cambridge - 2011 (Photo credit: Chris Boland http://www.distantcloud.co.uk/ )

Plays are, of course, intended to be seen, experienced, rather than read. However, as a writer who has had a radio play broadcast by the redoubtable BBC, I have an interest in play scripts, and enjoy reading them as well.

Michael Frayn has a reputation as a playwright who understands comedy. And Alphabetical Order is a great example of his strength in creating humour. The stage setting remains unchanged throughout the 2 acts, except for some 'tidying' essential to the story. So, the whole action takes place within the library of a local newspaper and involves the librarians and some of the reporting and editorial staff.

Having worked on a local paper, as a photographer, I have some empathy with the characters portrayed and some understanding of their peculiar pressures and priorities. The characters are well drawn, using the playwright's only real tool; that of dialogue. It's possible to picture them on the stage from the script, because they are so well described by their chosen words and what they have to say or what is said about them by other characters; the essence of a stage play.

The action is minimal, as is the plot, but the play covers a great deal of ground in terms of character building and relationship development. There are plenty of jokes and many occasions given to laughter, both with and at the characters. But there is pathos too. The aura of gentle decay and the overriding sense of futility combine with the overall frivolity of the dialogue, which hides those secrets that lurk beneath the surface of the spoken text. So, there are some surprises but the drama plays out more or less as expected.

The denouement is slightly surprising in the way it happens, but the reader realises that the outcome was, in fact, inevitable, given the natures of the characters and their employment. Typical of the very English setting and characterisation, there is a lot more beneath the surface, unstated but alluded to, making the play a multi-layered experience.

I enjoyed this, and recommend it to those who enjoy their drama in thoughtful but gentle comedy form.

All's Well That Ends Well, by Will Shakespeare, Reviewed

Image via Wikipedia

How do you go about reviewing a work that must have been described, analysed and generally pulled apart by thousands of readers, writers, scholars and professional reviewers? Well, as I see it, the only thing to do is give a very personal opinion.

Shakespeare is, of course, our national bard, our cultural hero, if we write in English. So, the reviewer better beware if he says anything untoward. But I set myself a target and I'm determined to hit it. The target? As a writer, to read and review at least 52 books this year, all taken from my 'to read' list'. So, you have my motivation.

I have yet to read most of the Bard's work. What I've so far managed has been very good. But I can't say that for All's Well That Ends Well. It reads like an apprentice piece, almost as if it was written by a different author, in fact.

In common with much of his work, Shakespeare took the original plot from Boccaccio's Decameron and embellished it with his own characters and additions. But, for me, he hasn't done his usual magic here. I found much of the text tedious. There was little that made me laugh and a great deal that felt like unnecessary complication. In fact, the play, for me, would have worked much better without a number of the scenes; some of which seemed to have no bearing on the story at all.

Of course, the language is brilliant most of the time, of course the characters are written with the usual sureness of style and genius. But the whole doesn't quite add up to the parts in this one. Naturally, there is the ever present problem for a modern reader that certain references no longer have the meaning they did for the contemporary audience and this means that some of the jokes fall flat. Some of the words used have not been included in the staggering total of new words that Will added to our language and context is then the only clue to their meaning.

I was able to follow the story, the plot, relatively easily. But some of the characters failed to display the qualities they were reported to carry by their fellows. So, I could see no evidence, until the scene where he is hooded and tricked, of Parolles' reported wickedness. He came across as no more a villain than others in the play. Even his diatribe against Lafeu seemed relatively justified in light of the Old Lord's treatment of him. And it was difficult to understand Helena's infatuation for the superficial, opportunist and selfish Bertram.

So, not a play I'm likely to go out of my way to watch, though it's my personal experience that Shakespeare always comes alive when performed, especially by a good ensemble cast. I'm sorry if I've offended or upset the lovers of our national poet, amongst which I count myself, but this one was a disappointment.

Stuart's Daily Word Spot: Monologue or soliloquy?

Monologue or soliloquy?

Monologue: noun - long speech made by one person, either in company or conversation; discourse in the nature of a soliloquy; scene in a drama in which a person talks alone, a dramatic composition for one voice; a dramatic entertainment performed by one person; form of dramatic scenes or compositions for one person; literary composition in the form of a soliloquy.

Soliloquy: noun - literary representation of an instance of talking to yourself regardless of an audience, part of a play involving this; action of making a soliloquy or monologue.

As is so often the case in English, there is little actual difference between these terms, and any variations are subtle. It comes down to a matter of taste and, as always, consistency in choice is perhaps more important than any other consideration. However, I’d tend to use ‘monologue’ for something comic or plain and ‘soliloquy’ for something literary or flowery.

So, I’d label the famous deliveries given by Stanley Holloway (The Lion & Albert), and I’d call the famous speech by Hamlet a ‘soliloquy’ (To be or not to be).

Pic: Looking south east along Deep Dale