Between art and “bullshit”: exploring “Hannibal”

Now there has probably happened what I feared: that I am so far behind with my blog, because I had to squeeze in so many other things, that I have overtaken myself and might neither find it interesting nor conclusive anymore what I have written about “reading” “Hannibal” in the beginning. I still enjoy watching it, being now deep into the second series, but I have a feeling at the moment that there ISN’T really a reason for it I will ever find out about. I mean, how can you seriously bother with a series where you have to cope with sentences like “Is your social worker inside that horse?” – without even being able to find that funny! I remember that I laughed sometimes, in the beginning, watching the third series and understanding nothing. Just because it was kind of daringly absurd – which I like sometimes. And I still don’t like the way people talk – at all! – and still haven’t really got used to psychiatrist saying things like “abnormal reactions to abnormal situations are normal”, and not just to endure them but to carry them with me because there is probably some truth contained in them that will come out later … (I can tell you: the (live!) social worker inside the dead horse was harmless compared to some of the “things” that “came out” of these sentences.) I get a feeling that it might help to read the book, but I am still reluctant about that. But there is something I definitely like: the really “bad” things are psychological, not about meat and bone. And maybe that’s why this series IS good, after all. BESIDES being kind of ridiculous. I presume that the kind of people who DON’T watch this series, apart from psychopaths and vegans, are psychiatrists and forensic scientists. As I presume that medical doctors never watch hospital series and policemen never watch crime series, except to have a good laugh. I am sure they had all kinds of advisers from the intelligence services on the “Spooks” as well as I am sure that most of the things they say and do in this series are bullshit. And I am sure that most people know that, including the actors who are like politicians in this case, constantly having to talk convincingly of things they don’t have a clue about. I just hope nobody blames the bullshit on the actors who have to set aside these considerations to be able to take this seriously, like the audience if they want to enjoy series like this. And there must be a lot to enjoy – even for those like me who don’t enjoy the meat and the carnage. But they always do this in a way that I can at least look at it – I didn’t have to look away ONCE during the whole series! ( - so far, but I am rather sure by now that it won't come to that. And I have certainly managed the art of not looking too closely.) And I appreciate it very much that they don’t try to give me unpleasant surprises. Maybe the most surprising thing about watching this series is that I am feeling so safe watching it. That I am never horrified or nauseated – whatever the reason … So, I still don’t know. I am aware that one important thing about series as fictional worlds is the danger to become addicted to them FOR NO GOOD REASON. At least I know that it happens to me. (I haven’t even started on “Madmen” because I have much less of a clue why I don’t stop watching it than in the case of “Hannibal”. I have actually been bored with it for whole stretches of the series, but I have bought THIS series so … and then, towards the end of the series, it suddenly gets interesting, and plop! I am on again. It is not like “House of Cards” which is “dramatic” all the way through.) The only good reason I really feel safe about is that I always appreciate genius actors – in this case Mads Mikkelsen whom I always suspected to be one of them. But I never really “knew” until now.

Maybe all this might be changed a lot when I’ll actually publish this blog, probably months after beginning to write it, but just yesterday I had this strange experience about “Hannibal” again. This time I didn’t really want to watch anything but didn’t have anything better to do, so I watched “Madmen” first, as I usually do at the moment, and could barely watch one episode because it totally got on my nerves. Then I watched “Poirot”, just because I thought I wanted to watch something that was just entertaining, with the same effect. I don’t like them that much, though I adore David Suchet as Poirot, but I am not usually bored with them. Then I started to watch a commentary on “Hannibal” first, which was better but got on my nerves as well because there was too much “chatting” in this case, and too little “matter”. Then I started watching where I had stopped the day before, in the first series. And it didn’t take long for me to become totally calm and serene and actually enjoy seeing people who had part of their backs cut off and made into angel’s wings, and Hannibal serving meals you don’t really know where the meat comes from, but have your suspicions … And the only thing I am kind of pissed off about is that I don’t know WHY this happens.

Watching commentaries on the third series has made me discover something about the series that explains part of my fascination with it. First of all, I have now two episodes with commentaries by Richard Armitage!!! And they are certainly worth listening to, not only because he says something interesting or funny (or both) as soon as he opens his mouth, but because there is really interesting stuff there about how he created this character. And a lot of it corroborated what I had observed myself, which I was VERY pleased with … And, in this case, most of the commentaries by actors make sense, as far as I have watched them yet, because most of them were very passionate about and “aware” of what they were doing. And something one of the directors said made me discover the reason for it. Even though the first and third series is based mostly on the book “The Red Dragon” it is probably not a “literal” adaptation of the book. In the first series it says “based on characters from the novel `The Red Dragon’”, and this seems to be a very fitting description. Because the whole series is focused on CHARACTERS, and what happens to them, and one of the most important concerns was consequently to find great actors who could play these very special people. And quite often this amounted to hiring actors they had wanted to work with anyway because of how special they are, and the characters were very much shaped by what these actors brought to the set, and by the ideas they had about the characters. Especially, like in the case of Mads Mikkelsen and Hugh Dancy, when the actors are the ones who know these characters “inside out”, having played them for so long. And this is probably THE ideal situation for an actor to work in. So, this series is certainly special and kind of unusual where the acting is concerned. Parts of it, especially the “finale” about the Red Dragon, can be watched like a very long film – with the possibility to put things in that would have to be sacrificed in a cinematic version! – And the commitment to these characters, as well as the challenge involved, for example for Francis Dolarhyde and Reba, who are technically just “guest appearances” in the series, was certainly deeper than in some cases of lead characters in films.

And this is something I always enjoy to watch. But most of the characters appear very strange to me and are not “about” anything I like or am interested in. As I said, usually, serial killers and profilers are not my “turf”. I seldom watch crime-stories, or read them, because I am bored with them, most of all even BECAUSE they are getting more and more grizzly and extreme. And I don’t usually like this kind of extreme psychological situations where I cannot “follow”. Nonetheless, I am obviously fascinated with THESE characters, potentially all of them, even though I almost generally dislike them. What might be the reason for that, I am still trying to guess.

One thing is certainly that they are unusual literary “inventions” because they are so extreme that they go way beyond being believable as “real” people, though the acting is mostly naturalistic and convincing. It is rather that this strangeness and singularity of their “set-up” provides them with a second, kind of metaphorical, dimension. There are rather obvious examples of this second dimension, like the Red Dragon, or, of course, Hannibal himself. Which are both nonetheless “set up” naturalistically – as real people in a real world. But there is this “fairy-tale story” of being transformed into a dragon, where an imaginary world fuses with the real one in this incredibly complex act of filming and performance. And Hannibal might even be the extremest case I have ever seen of this kind of “uncannyness” brought to the audience THROUGH the acting. Mads Mikkelsen might have this really weird face, and it certainly helps, but still … sometimes I just cannot believe it! And something like this is, of course, always compelling to watch. But the more I am watching the more I find that this dimension somehow exists in all the permanent characters of the series. Even especially in characters “we” perceive as “normal” people. Well, Will Graham certainly isn’t normal in any way, but we somehow get the impression that he is driven by human emotions we are familiar with. Even if "we" don’t like dogs and never had the faintest wish to become a parent… But this is only the one side of the coin. And almost all the characters, like Bedelia Du Maurier, or Abigail Hobbs, have this heightened “metaphorical” dimension brought out through the acting. They all strike me as this kind of modern “fairy-tale” characters. So, almost in the same way as there is a different feeling to it when the witch captures Hansel and Gretel to eat them than there is to what real serial killers have done to little girls, there is a different feeling to what Hannibal does. So much so that it can even be entertaining and funny, though, of course, it’s an extremely dark kind of humour.

I suspect that the special “recipe” of the series lies somewhere in the tension between these two dimensions – of the extremely naturalistic and “material” (blood and bone and organs), and the “heightened” dimension of the language and the metaphorical (even kind of metaphysical) layer. Which is another reason you need very special actors because the acting of most actors would just be too “flat” and commonplace for this kind of thing. And I even suspect that the two dimensions working together produce this layer of irreality which somehow makes these atrocities “digestible”, and kind of protects me from what is happening. Because in a “real” horror film, like “Hannibal” with Antony Hopkins, I don’t have a choice. I either “endure” them or I look away. I would never come to think about what this MIGHT MEAN, or what is intended to be expressed, because what is intended is “just” horror. And as I don’t pay for cinema or for a dvd to look away, I don’t watch them. Though, of course, there are exceptions. Even one of my favourite films is horror: “The Shining”. But then I know it so well by now that I know when I don’t care to look. And of course it is such a BEAUTIFUL film – even so incredibly “sensual” as to be the only film where I can feel and smell the cold mountain air! And beauty is of course the bait that always catches the fish, I certainly don’t deceive myself about that … Maybe it’s just beauty in “Hannibal” as well? (Beauty as in “perfection”?) On the other hand I know that “just” beauty doesn’t exist – or, if it does, I don’t see it because it bores me. There always has to be something else …

And it must even be something that I particularly like, or which is important to me. I don’t even think that all this works in the same way for most people, even if they are prepared to leave their prejudices behind. And this is because “horror” is different for everybody whereas, I think, we agree more readily on what is pleasant, or great. For example, many people really dislike large amounts of blood, or mutilations on dead people, at least I infer this from what “horror” is usually made of. Whereas I care much less about the blood than about actually seeing people experiencing fear and agony, or being violated while they are still alive. And these moments, when they are shown, are mercifully short and very rarely come as a surprise. (And, in this case, the strange restrictions that the “genre” of American television imposes on any kind of sexual activities or cruelty to animals (not people!) might not be such a bad thing … It would just draw the attention from the real “matter”.) I certainly had to get used to people eating human body parts and organs, but I know that I am usually good at controlling nausea from real-life situations, and probably did the same – though it is rather important, at the same time, that I “recall” the feeling. And I found it amusing that obviously many people were unsettled by Francis Dolarhyde eating the Blake painting, even more than by anything else he does. For me this was one of the funnier moments, if this term can be used at all. But there is a lot of “fun” involved in the process of always looking for the meaning of what is happening, especially between people, but also on an aesthetical and material level. It parallels the “double” nature of the characters, which I think I noticed first, before I even understood who they were. (Which is another interesting point, by the way, because “you” don’t know who they are - like THEY don’t! - before they have gone there. Which is probably the non-bullshit part of all that therapy going on.) One of the first things I noticed, and appreciated, is that there is so much in this series about art, and artifice, and life-style. It is probably always tempting and beautiful for film-makers, but in this case there is always this layer of the grizzly, dangerous, and material nature of objects “beneath” the artificial layer of creation and beauty. In the first part of the third series there are a lot of “works of art” of a questionable nature, culminating in the “valentine” made by Hannibal for Will Graham out of the body of someone he killed. Well, there is probably very little beauty in that – unlike in the body with butterfly wings and living snails which looked great as well as grizzly - but the way it is displayed in a church lets us perceive the symbolic and artistic value of it very strongly. And there ought to be a special chapter about gorgeous food, and what it is actually made of … This special kind of double meaning EMBODIED in one object might be the reason as well that I really enjoyed the act of the Blake painting being EATEN – apart from the symbolic value of the scene – SETTING ASIDE the horrible fact that it is irretrievably destroyed.

But this is still only an explanation for why I am not inhibited from “enjoying” this world by the grizzly und unacceptable things that happen there. I am still almost totally in the dark about WHAT it is that I enjoy. What might be the cause that I am currently kind of glued to it, even potentially aggressive about things that keep me away from it. Although, I suspect, I won’t be so sad, and feel so deprived, when I am finally “through” with it as in other cases. I don’t really have an answer yet, but I think that it has probably something to do with the way it makes me deal with my own feelings. Because most of what happens has more to do with how people are feeling about it, what it does to them, which is of course the task of great actors to reveal to us, or even to “conceal” from us in a way that we are drawn into guessing. I suppose it is probably this multifaceted manner I use my feelings to understand what is happening that creates such a singular experience for me. I just heard that song - I don’t remember the title, nor did I know the singer - where it says “I want the sky coloured in emotions“. And I thought about how many colours and emotions that might be, and how poor I am where they are concerned: I only “have” a few. Though, watching “Hannibal”, I became aware that this is probably not true. At least I CAN have more than these – under certain circumstances – here, of course, mostly emotions I don’t really want to have. I can have emotions I never would dream of having, even when I am day-dreaming – because, WHO would??? But, nonetheless, I obviously enjoy that I am able to have them, without being “damaged” by them. And it is again something I knew already. That I somehow need to widen my scope of feelings towards the “forbidden” or uncanny. For example, I made a sampler of pop music called “Arschloch” (asshole) of songs that are about “asshole” feelings – basically, feelings “we” are not supposed to have. And I need this sampler much more often than my sampler of love songs. Like the one called “Live on Mars” with songs which I think are great, but I don’t understand at all what they are about, apart from these uncanny feelings. And now I have even begun to make a sampler for Halloween.  But I think that “Hannibal” surpasses all that, as there are probably even emotions that I would never have guessed are there – up in the sky where they cannot haunt me, but where I can see the glorious colours nonetheless.

MAYBE IT’S ART?

Maybe, just maybe, the series itself IS art, just because I am treating it in the same way … I don’t know because I certainly have a lot of prejudices about art and very little knowledge. (I am afraid I don’t appreciate the Blake painting because of its aesthetical value but solely because of what they have done with it. Accordingly it’s not surprising that I wasn’t shocked …) But maybe “we” are too much used to the notion of art being “static” and generally impenetrable to the common mind – not something that can actually survive outside a museum. Which might as well be entertaining, or even just AN OBJECT OF SERIOUS PLAYING … Though the question remains, I think, as a serious question, even exactly because it is not “just” horror – which, like porn, doesn’t require any explanation or “excuse”. It is the question about the “absolute evil” which deserves an answer: Can everything be made “right” or acceptable by this label of art? It appears so, but I am not so sure. Of course it isn’t a question about its right to exist (even in an environment where “normal” sexual activities are censured!) but if I should get involved with it. Which has already happened anyway and probably just proves another time that everybody can be lured on the evil side if you find out about their needs.

Suwa – the fourth episode (and a review of „Richard III“ by the Almeida Theatre)

Another episode of „Suwa“ – so far I have been faithful to my plan. But first there has to be a review of the totally amazing “Richard III” by the Almeida Theatre I have seen in the “Cinema” on September 26^th. Because there definitely happened what I wouldn’t have thought possible: I saw one of my favourite plays performed the way I HAD IMAGINED IT – though it is of course impossible to IMAGINE something like this - to the point that I had some kind of “déja-vue” quite a few times, especially about Ralph Fiennes’ Richard: O, I have SEEN this! But I know I haven’t.

Partly this might have been because it was exactly like “my own” “Macbeth” which, so far, existed only in my head. From the level of detail and depth and spontaneity of the acting to what the stage and the costumes might look like. (Only in “Macbeth” the background colours would have to be lighter for the blood to show.) Now my ideal “Shakespeare” exists not just in my imagination but in the real world as well – the first thing about this experience I cannot really believe. (And I KNOW they WON’T make a dvd, even though the filming was more than perfect. And because it is Shakespeare I am crying inwardly even harder than I did on behalf of “The Crucible” - that I will never be able to see this again!)

And the next great thing: I have now one thing less to be REALLY pissed off about! Because, when I am, I am loath to admit it, but I only realized HOW MUCH pissed off I have been because of having missed Kevin Spacey playing Richard III when I realized that I don’t feel bad about it anymore. Of course I would still buy it if it was on dvd, but, seeing Ralph Fiennes as Richard, I knew that I have had EVERYTHING I could dream of concerning this character. And this even requires something more than a genius actor. It requires some kind of a miracle, in my not very extensive experience so far, that somebody can get EVERYTHING out of a Shakespeare character that I have seen in him. The scathing irony, the genius, compulsive plotting, the loneliness, the misery and the suffering, and the “god-like” joy at playing these bad games and making people suffer… and, as for me more and more important in Shakespeare, and of what I had just seen little glimpses in Benedict Cumberbatch’s Richard in the “Hollow Crown”: the way he is finally overtaken and overwhelmed by what he himself has set in motion, brought down by the avalanche he has created, almost physically.

There is a genius actor, no doubt about that! I was really pleased that this has made me like Ralph Fiennes very much because I have seen him do highly convincing stuff before that, but have never really liked him as I knew I should. I suppose I was permanently repelled by “The English Patient” – which is now probably more like thirty years ago, not twenty??? (I am really loath to check …) And which, notwithstanding all the awards it has got, is a boring and stupid film. (And even worse for being quite a beautiful film as well, as, though I must laugh myself at my strange moral values sometimes, I feel beauty has to be put to good use to “come into its own”.) But the miracle added to genius probably lies in the spirit with which Ralph Fiennes approached this task, and which impressed and moved me more than anything else. Because you could SEE how much he wanted to play this. How much he enjoyed the irony and the triumph AS WELL AS the pain – because there is a long way to go after the irony is gone, and there is nothing funny about all of it anymore, nothing to enjoy, and still things are really happening until the end, not just being played. And not just at the curtain calls it was plain to see how heavy this character sat on him, how he was almost literally weighed down by him, and what a long way he must have gone, deliberately, to find him.

And the best thing about this production is that this isn’t even the best that can be said about it. The feeling of ultimate achievement and this kind of strong, lasting joy I experienced only once before, on behalf of “The Crucible”, where I had the same feeling that the COMPLETE play had been made available to me, just from seeing it this once. And this was because every moment and every character was about something I could understand. And it was so plain to see that all the actors could totally rely on each other, that nobody was alone on that stage. I was so pleased of having finally been proved right: that to take every single character and every single moment equally seriously is the way to get “everything” out of Shakespeare. And that it is possible. (Which doesn’t mean, of course, that there weren’t quite substantial cuts. But very well advised ones because sometimes these passages or arguments are that long FOR A PURPOSE.) - The bad thing about all this being of course that there is far less left for me now to IMAGINE …

But the best thing for me was still something else. When I read “Richard III” again over a year ago I got the impression that this was the best comedy Shakespeare ever wrote. Not least because, for me, the best comedies are those where there are no funny characters, only “real” people, and where the irony develops in between the lines and in the spaces between people. And where “we” finally stop laughing because it appears too cruel. And this theory I developed myself – without any evidence in any of the performances I have seen. (The one little eye-opener was when I saw Ian McKellen in the film from 1995 looking into the mirror and thought: He (Richard!) might actually be enjoying this, being an actor …?) So that I even lost touch with it completely, reading the histories again and watching the “Hollow Crown” – which is totally flat and joyless and lacking insight compared to this. And then, even within the first few moments of the Almeida’s production, my theory was proved! I was SO DAMN PLEASED I cannot even express it.

And I still cannot really believe that this happened! Maybe I am too much used to the thought that nothing I really want ever happens to me. Notwithstanding how many times this has been disproved just recently … But, interesting!, unlike “The Crucible”, I would very much want to see this in the theatre. Of course in neither case was it true that I got the complete play “all at once”. There is always something we use to “read with”. In the case of “The Crucible” the experience came from having seen the film twenty years ago and was very personal. I have never really written about it in my blog probably because I am still confused about it. Maybe because I was actually confused, for one thing about how different it was to see Richard Armitage on a stage from seeing him on screen – probably the reason why I preferred seeing it in the cinema, whereas I’d do anything to see “Richard III” in the theatre if it was still possible. It might even have been the reason why I actually felt bad after having seen something so good, which is absurd. But I don’t know. It wasn’t empathy, I know that. It’s never that, with me. But there was a more complicated personal thing going on with me there, comparing myself watching the film as a younger woman with myself watching the play then. Though it was probably Richard Armitage’s exceptional commitment to that character which made it happen. Because it has to do with really understanding men as much as with understanding women. (And Arthur Miller REALLY understood both of them!) I had a clue as to what was the key moment in the film for me and what was the key moment watching the play. And, in a way, it was good because I got the impression that I have probably moved forward towards “less silly”. On the other hand it was probably a bit like therapy – and more unexpected: What happened to this other person? Where is she gone? The person that actually dared to be reckless sometimes, even when it turned out silly. The person that still had dreams … - Maybe I am on the right track now because I suddenly remembered her. And I probably still think that I am well shot of her. But it is a bit sad as well, after all.

So I think I understand now at least why I always wanted it to be a one-time thing. Why I wasn’t really that keen on repeating the experience as I usually am, and why I have never gone near the text and probably never will. Maybe I wanted to preserve this strange and intense moment in time as it was, as some things are best (and worst!) tasted for the first time … But I feel totally different about “Richard III” because there is no danger of anything personal coming unexpectedly out of one of the many dark corners on that stage. So I would probably enjoy to get as close to it physically as I can because I enjoyed the avalanche and the “fun-ride”. Trusting that I couldn’t be touched by it personally. (I even enjoyed the ending exceedingly - when the survivors are standing around Richard’s grave with their long swords and lances, ready to stab.) Nonetheless, what “happened” could only happen through all these characters being so deeply and personally involved. There was no hollow declamation, everything “really” happened to these people. I have never before been touched by Clarence displaying fear of death or Elizabeth howling because of her dead children. As a rule I despise all these characters and close my eyes to their misery. But if we do that the play doesn’t really come to life. And the greatest moment is even when we are laughing at the naivety and stupidity of a character AT THE SAME TIME as we completely understand him and feel for him – as in the case of Hastings. I’d never have dreamed of being able to sympathize with Hastings, of being genuinely appalled at the way Richard is dealing with him. And EVERY SINGLE CHARACTER has his moment of truth. And there were so many moments of this kind as I have never seen in one play. Like the one when Hastings is prattling on about Richard being in such a good mood while the audience can see the apprehension of what is going to happen dawning on the faces of his fellow peers.  (What I have written about the fourth wall in one of my last blogs – that it works kind of contradictory because its being “visible” actually makes us MORE involved – applied in this case as well. Especially where Richard was concerned I was extremely conscious of an actor playing this character as well as “being him”. And it was one of these cases where I enjoyed it extremely seeing that everything was deliberate and calculated AS WELL AS being a rather extreme experience that might get the actor where he had never “been” before. Maybe because this is a character we don’t have to be afraid to sympathize with – and then end up doing it nonetheless …)

And this is exactly Shakespeare’s genius creation that can never be fully re-created by imagination but ONLY – by miracle! - on the stage. And only when it is done as perfectly as this, when I am COMPELLED to sympathize and go all the way with these characters, the dynamic structure of the play is laid open and I understand completely what it is about. Of course it is a lot more complex, but, broken down to the character of Richard, what “happened” was a sudden understanding about the overall need for a scapegoat. The proof that the only possibility to bring this amount of misery and hatred and negative energy to an end is to pin it on one person and put it in the grave with him. So that everybody who survives is miraculously exonerated. And I understood for the first time why it is one of Shakespeare’s best tragedies as well as his best comedy. This is because Richard is actively – though not selflessly! –  looking for this role, and finds it. Of course he doesn’t do it to be sacrificed, far from it. Ralph Fiennes takes care – and time! – to give him his special moment of ultimate triumph when he has finally reached his goal after what must have been years of relentless toil. He knows of course why he is doing all this. But, ultimately, where the big scheme of things is concerned, he is MEANT to do it because he is THE ONE WHO CAN DO IT. Who is made for this part. Ultimately, he does it because this is what he has always done, from his first appearance as a stage character in Henry VI. He can’t just stand and look on. He always has to look for the breach to step into it. Do everything he can do to bring things forward. There is one little moment - only one! - where Ralph Fiennes plays him as somebody who might be a psychopath. Well, I like it that Shakespeare almost always gives us a choice to think what we want about this. (I am still wondering about Macbeth …) Maybe Ralph Fiennes just enjoyed it to demonstrate ALL the options that are there. But this single-mindedness and utter resolution – which is quite beyond “normal”! - is often to be found in Shakespeare’s characters and is often a reason why I like them. And, in Richard’s case, it might be the reason why he became such an accomplished actor, as this is his way of being who he is, and the only way of being able to enjoy himself– to the point of not having anything genuinely human left in him at the end because he is not an actor on a stage but in real life. It is because this is what he has always done: fill this demand for something completely and with utter perfection – be it as a “packhorse” or as a king. Until it finally becomes too much even for him … And who would be more perfect – and less likely to incite our compassion – as the one who is used as a “packhorse” for all the sins to be buried with him in a grave at the end. Which grave is gaping in the middle of the stage from the beginning, so that we always marvel why people don’t see it and are warned. But this is one thing the play is about as well: the general human need of looking the other way … So, even though probably ALL the facts about Richard are false, on a higher level Shakespeare arrives at a shrewd description of the dynamics inherent in the historical situation  - for which I think the open grave was a great symbol.

And, as I said, Ralph Fiennes doesn’t make light of the burden, he makes us FEEL it. Even in the many funny moments at the beginning it is always there as something that’s being shed. And the skulls that appear and multiply in the background of the stage become really frightening when they are “mirrored” on his face for brief moments. In this way he makes me understand even better why I have always been able to sympathize with Richard as a stage character. (Set aside the fact that, of course!, the Yorkist claim to the throne is genuine, and Richmond has no business to be there! Even though these considerations have to stay outside the play. But even Shakespeare himself “admits” it, indirectly, when he lets Henry VI state that his claim is weak. Even if he is taking sides, the shady corners are always there.) In any case, I am totally fascinated how much empathy for Richard Shakespeare has written into this play – exactly WHEN he and his fate are represented AS HORRIBLE AND MERCILESS AS THEY ARE SUPPOSED TO BE.

Episode 4: Am Rande des Abgrunds

Opres und Sama wollen den Wüstenplanet Tüsanto finden. Sie nehmen das Raumschiff von Arin. Sie wissen, dass sie auf dem heißen Sandboden nichts berühren können. Deshalb nehmen sie sich einen Zentralsegler, damit sie über den heißen Sandboden drüber fliegen können, um nicht zu verbrennen. Sie machen sich bereit für den Flug zum Wüstenplaneten. 

Als sie beim Wüstenplaneten angekommen sind, sehen sie unter sich einen riesigen Abgrund. Opres ist es ziemlich, ziemlich heiß.

Opres sagt zu Sama: „Kannst du mir mal kurz einen Eiswürfel geben, damit mir hier nicht zu heiß wird?“

„Ja, Opres.“

Sama greift in das Gefrierfach rein.

„Ups, ich glaube, die Eiswürfel sind verdampft.“

„Äh, warum hast du sie dann in das Eisfach getan?“

„Ich glaube, da ist ein Loch drin.“

„Und was ist mit dem Wasser?“

„Das ist sechzig Grad heiß,“ sagt Sama.

Opres sagt: „Dann müssen wir von diesem Wüstenplaneten aber mal zackig weg!“

„Ich glaube, das können wir nicht. Ich glaube nämlich, dass diese Riesenmonster, die ich doch aus meiner Kindheit kenne, nicht auf dem Eisplaneten, nicht auf Blutlas, aber auf dem Wüstenplaneten wohnen.“

Gerade als Sama das ausgesprochen hat, schießt ein riesiges Ding aus dem Boden.

Opres sagt: „Das muss aber ziemlich an diese Hitze gewöhnt sein.“

„Ja, da hast du Recht. Diese Riesen haben so eine Art von Gefrierfach in ihrem Körper.“

„Das hab ich auch davor gewusst, sonst würde dieses Monster ja sofort in Flammen aufgehen.“

Sama sagt: „Ja. Diese Art Gefrierfach ist ziemlich, ziemlich nützlich.“

Opres sagt: „Ich glaub wir sollten hier nicht so weiter blabern. Der Gigant kommt gleich zu uns.“

Opres springt auf das riesige Tier, doch dieses spuckt, bevor Opres auf ihm drauf ist, Blitze. Sama weicht den Blitzen aus. Opres weicht den Blitzen auch aus und springt von dem riesigen Monster aus auf den Zentralsegler. Das Monster versucht, ihm hinterherzufliegen, doch Sama steuert den Zentralsegler so schnell wie er nur kann. Das Monster schleudert immer wieder Blitze aus seinem Maul. Opres und Sama springen auf das Monster drauf. Das Monster fliegt hinter den Zentralsegler und schubst mit seinen kleinen Flügeln den Löwenwächter von Sama hinunter. Kurz bevor er den Boden berührt, geht dieser in Flammen auf.

Sama sagt: „Dieser Sand ist aber ziemlich gefährlich.“

Opres sagt: „Ja, dieser Sand ist wirklich ziemlich gefährlich. Das Monster ist viel besser im Vorteil als wir hier.“

Sama sagt: „Ja, viel besser. Sogar noch besser, als ich es gedacht hätte.“

Das Monster versucht den Flügel des Zentralseglers zu zerstören. Doch Opres weicht mit seinen Künsten, die er sonst immer an dem Raumschiff probiert, aus.

Sama sagt: „Ziemlich gut den Segler gesteuert, Opres. Das Gleiche noch mal!“

Opres macht die gleiche Drehung, die er davor gemacht hat. Auf einmal erstreckt sich vor ihnen ein noch größerer Abgrund als zuvor. Opres und Sama sehen auf der anderen Seite des Abgrunds einen riesigen Berg in die Luft ragen.

Opres sagt: „Komm, wir fliegen dort rauf!“

Sama sagt: „Ja, das machen wir!“ und steuert den Zentralsegler auf den Berg zu.

Als sie oben angekommen sind, wird ihnen schon kälter. Doch sie wissen immer noch, dass das Monster es gleich geschafft haben wird, bei dem Berg zu sein. Opres und Sama sehen das Monster schon. Es ist fast angekommen.

Opres sagt: „Ich muss mein Haustier noch holen.“

Opres will gerade dorthin laufen, da sagt Sama: „Nein, dort ist der Blutprinz. Ich muss mit dir kommen.“

Sama und Opres rennen nun zu dem Zentralsegler. Als sie den Blutprinz dort sehen, macht der Blutprinz zuerst ein überraschtes Gesicht. Aber dann fängt er an, höhnisch zu lachen. Er lässt das Monster den halben Felsen zerstören. Opres springt zurück, doch Sama hält sich gerade noch an dem Felsen fest. Das Monster kommt, um Sama in die Tiefe zu stürzen. Sama nimmt seine letzte Kraft und sucht mit seinen Füßen einen Halt. Als er diesen gefunden hat, nimmt er sich einen Halt, der dort drüber liegt. Er stößt sich ab und schafft es, wieder auf dem Felsen zu sein. Doch der Blutprinz hat das schon erwartet. In einer unbekannten Sprache flüstert er dem Monster etwas zu. Das Monster zerschlägt nun noch ein Viertel des Felsens. Sama hält sich wieder gerade noch an einem Stück fest. Opres nimmt den Zentralsegler und wirft ihn unter Sama. Sama verliert seinen Halt und rutscht ab. Er kann sich gerade noch an dem Zentralsegler festhalten.

In den Wolken über dem Wüstenplanet kann man Sama und den Zentralsegler bald nicht mehr erkennen. Das Viertel des Felsens, das noch übrig ist, nutzt Opres als Kampfplatz gegen den Blutprinz. Der Blutprinz schafft es, Opres eine zweite Narbe in seinem Gesicht zu machen. Er schleudert ihn auf den Felsen und will gerade ein Teil von dem Felsen abschlagen. Da wackelt der ganze Felsen, und Opres und der Blutprinz sehen Sama und das Haustier, das sich aber um über fünf Meter vergrößert hat. Opres sieht, dass die Futterschachtel des Kleinen leer ist.

Opres sagt: „Eigentlich ist dieses Wesen ja sonst immer klein und süß, aber jeder weiß, es kann sich zu einem wahren Riesen entwickeln.“

Das jetzt große Haustier von Opres wirft den Blutprinz in die Schlucht. Doch auf einmal sehen sie Ulsoro, der mit dem Raumschiff von dem Blutprinz den Blutprinz auffängt und wegfliegt. 

Opres sagt: „Jetzt müssen wir aber schnellstens zu dem Eisplaneten.“ 

(Episode 4: On the verge of the abyss

Opres and Sama are looking for the desert planet Tusanto. They have taken Arinn’s spaceship. They know that they can’t touch anything there because of the hot sand. They are using a glider so that they can’t get burned.

As they are gliding along the surface they suddenly behold an enormous abyss spreading underneath their plane. Opres is beginning to feel the heat.

He says to Sama: “Can you give me an ice cube. I am feeling quite hot.”

“Yes, I can.”

He reaches for an ice cube from the freezing compartment.

“Oups, I think the ice cubes have evaporated.”

“So, what did you put them into the freezing compartment for?”

“I am afraid it has got a hole.”

“And what about the water?”

“It’s 60 degree Celsius.”

Opres says: “Then we have to leave this desert planet quickly.”

“I don’t think that’s possible. I believe that these giant monsters, which I have seen as a child, didn’t come from the ice planet nor from Blutlas but from the desert planet.”

The moment Sama has said this, a giant creature emerges from the ground.

Opres says: “It must have learned to cope with the heat.”

“Yes, you are right. These giants have some kind of inner freezing compartment.”

“I knew that before. Otherwise they would burst into flames.”

Sama says: “Yes, such a freezing compartment is very convenient.”

Opres says: “I think we shouldn’t be chatting. The giant is coming towards us.”

Opres jumps on top of the giant beast, but it begins to spew lightnings before he has got there. Sama dodges the lightnings. Opres does the same and jumps from the monster onto the glider. The monster tries to follow him, but Sama aviates the glider as fast as he can. The monster issues frequent lightnings from its mouth. Opres and Sama both jump on top of the monster. The monster gets behind the glider and uses its small wings to throws off Sama’s lion-guardian. He bursts into flames even before hitting the ground.

Sama says: “This sand is really dangerous.”

Opres says: “Yes, it’s really quite dangerous. The monster has the edge over us here.”

Sama says: “Yes, even more than I would have guessed.”

Meanwhile the monster is trying to destroy the glider’s wing. But Opres, who has had a lot of practice with the spaceship, dodges it.

Sama says: “Pretty good aviating. Come again!”

Opres performs the same move as before. Suddenly an even larger abyss appears before them. They behold a giant mountain on the other side of the abyss.

Opres says: “Let’s fly to the top!”

Sama says: “Yes, let’s do that!” and steers the glider towards the mountain.

When they have arrived at the top they are feeling a lot cooler already. But they are aware that the monster is still close behind. They can see it. It has almost arrived.

Opres says: “I have to rescue my pet.”

He makes for the place, but Sama says: “No, I see the Blood Prince over there. I have to come with you.”

Sama and Opres are running towards the glider. When they meet the blood prince he looks surprised at first. But then he sneers at them and breaks out laughing. He makes the monster destroy half the rock. Opres recoils, but Sama can just hold onto the rock. The monster moves towards him to throw him off the rock. Sama gathers his last strength and gropes for a foothold. When he finds it he looks for another foothold above. He bounces and is able to haul himself again on top of the rock. But the Blood Prince has expected him to do that. He whispers to the monster in a strange language. The monster destroys another quarter of the rock. Sama is holding onto the last bit. Opres steers the glider swiftly beneath Sama. Sama loses his foothold and falls. He catches the glider and holds on to it.

The glider and Sama disappear into the clouds above the desert planet. Opres is fighting the Blood Prince standing on the remaining part of the rock. The Blood Prince succeeds in giving him two scars on his face. He hurls him unto the rock and is just trying to hew another chunk off the rock when suddenly the rock begins to shake. Opres and the Blood Prince behold Sama and the pet that has suddenly become over twenty feet tall. Opres realizes that the food container is quite empty.

Opres says: “As small and cute as these creatures usually are, everybody knows that they can develop into proper giants.”

Opres’ huge pet throws the Blood Prince into the abyss. But there they suddenly see Ulsoro rescuing him with his own spaceship.

Opres says: “Now we have to travel speedily to the ice planet.”)