Appendix 3, and first appendix on “Hamlet”: A crooked road to Elsinore

In the meantime, while I was distracted by films like “Macbeth” and “Irrational Man”, there happened a lot with “Hamlet”. As I said, I had a hunch that this play, which has always been one of my least favourite, would “get me”. And of course I was right about that. A few weeks ago I had a conversation with a friend about the play which probably lasted about an hour. There I presented my argument about Ophelia probably being pregnant which I based on just one expression in the text, and I think she didn’t really understand what I meant, so I knew that I had to examine this again. But, as it turned out, it was worth looking into. Not so much because I found definite proof for my theory but because I detected a basic principle of how this text works (for me? Of course I cannot know about others …)

The other massive influence was seeing Benedict Cumberbatch as Hamlet. I saw the show again yesterday, and I loved it even more, although I still think, as a production, it is highly overrated – as being in fact the fastest selling show in the history of the National Theatre! (And they have added again two recorded presentations in the cinema called “Cinema” in Munich where I go to watch these plays.) Apart from single exceptional performances - as of course the one by Benedict Cumberbatch, and Ciaran Hinds as the most convincing Claudius I have seen (though my favourite will probably always be Patrick Steward) – it wasn’t an exceptional show. It was “just” good theatre, which certainly isn’t the most insignificant praise I could think of! For somebody who has seen a lot of productions of this play and hopes to see some original ideas about certain characters or situations it might not be very enlightening. It is a well-done, classical approach, very suitable for schools, I’d say - and not too long! And it is very entertaining, which isn’t bad either. I only noticed this the second time I saw it that people were laughing all the time, even at moments where I couldn’t detect anything remotely funny. But there is a lot more of funny and ridiculous in “Hamlet” than you think if you are watching the play for the first time! - The main thing for me, though, was that, having thought a great deal about the play in the meantime, I enjoyed it a lot more than when I first saw it. And this is not a bad thing either. They had a clear and simple approach to all the characters, apart from the few that were weak, like Horatio (who, as a character, is probably not a good idea because he always turns out weak) or casted all wrong, like the Ghost. Maybe, generally, it is a fatal development that “classical” theatre only sells if the lead is played by an actor who is well known from tv and international film. Though, in most cases, this turns out very well as such because British actors, as a rule, don’t think of themselves as special just because they have been in a few major feature films, but instead work for an opportunity like this as if it was the last thing they would be doing. And Benedict Cumberbatch, who couldn’t escape knowing how special he is, is certainly one of these. (Which is probably the highest form of praise I could think of …) But I think it engenders a certain kind of approach to the play as such because everybody knows people are going to the theatre to see Benedict Cumberbatch play Hamlet, and what they do with the rest of the play will be noticed only by a few “nerds” anyway.

There was one thing Benedict Cumberbatch said about playing Hamlet that I felt is very important. He said that every actor “has a Hamlet in him”. Because this is what is really so difficult about this character: that he is such a general “mold” that every actor (of an appropriate age) could fit in. And, ideally, there would be as many Hamlets as there are actors, and all of them would kind of “work”. I think there is much to that, but of course, for me, certain actors and approaches to that character worked a lot better than others. For me Derek Jacobi and Kenneth Branagh didn’t work at all. Ethan Hawke worked really well, but, considering my approach to the play as a whole, the entirely subjective and contemporary perspective didn’t convince me. It was kind of “too small” for what is at stake in this play, and too much reduced to Hamlet himself, whereas, in Shakespeare, practically all the characters are important to make the play “emerge”. Which is probably true for every relevant work of fiction, and this will even be a central point in my approach later on. David Tennant was the only Hamlet that raised some really interesting points about this character I hadn’t noticed, and it was a brilliant performance, but “as a person”, in my opinion, he was completely wrong for Hamlet. And this was something ABOUT MY OWN APPROACH that really surprised me. And brought me to examine some basic prejudices I had about this character. But I know that I was biased from the start. Because I started to read “Hamlet” when I learned that I would see Benedict Cumberbatch playing him in October, and this was sometime in the spring. And, from this time onward, reading these lines, I always heard his voice in my head. So the idea that he would be playing Hamlet felt very convincing from the start. And, even though I was totally surprised, when I finally saw it, of the powerful, very “direct” and emotional approach which worked great all the way through, on the other hand I wasn’t surprised at all because I had always anticipated how he would play it and known that I would understand it and like it. So it is obvious that I knew very well what to expect – and, in this case, what NOT to expect! - from him as an actor. But the interesting question is, of course: WHY? Because there must have been an issue ABOUT HAMLET with me before. Something I wanted to see concerning this character. And what exactly was this, and why did I expected him to “crack” it? And I think I figured that out. And it has something to do with the concept of a hero which I brought up in my last blog – which is in fact a great coincidence! And with why, in my opinion, the way Shakespeare is going about this is just INCREDIBLY “contemporary”.

The next thing that happened was that I was on a train and got started on Dover Wilson. And I was even sorry that I wasn’t on a slow train, as he was when he became involved with “Hamlet”, because I didn’t get very far. As I was totally fascinated by the way he became involved. Of course we live in very different times, and maybe there is nothing like a war to put people “on hold” and generate a state where you either “convert, or fall in love”, or develop a “mania for wild speculation” (which, in my opinion, is a much more productive occupation than the other two. We will see why ...). So this kind of thing probably happens much less in an age where there is no significant part of the population involved in a war, and with planes instead of slow trains … But it kind of happened to ME, and this is of course why I was so fascinated. I loved the way Dover Wilson got started on his “road to Elsinore” because it was through an article by a Dr. Greg about “Hamlet” which raised a question that probably irked me every time I saw this play: Why does Claudius, who later breaks off the play when he sees his own murder presented on stage, seem unmoved when he sees the same content presented in the dumb-show before that? I always noticed this, and never tried to “explain it away”, and this is the first important thing. Because, if it happened to this Dr. Greg and me, it must have happened to countless other people, and of course this is only one of probably hundreds of these questions about seemingly minor oddities in “Hamlet”. But Dr. Greg tried to answer this question – as I think in a ludicrous way, at least as presented by Dover Wilson. But by speculating about this issue he got started on one of the central issues about the play which is, of course, an issue about the central plot around Hamlet himself: Is the ghost Hamlet sees meant to be a hallucination, or is he “real”? Personally I don’t see this question as very important, but it is probably one of the central questions about this play people have asked from the beginning. And certainly part of the “big question” about “Hamlet”. Which, of course, develops round the character of Hamlet himself and would be something like: What happens to him, and what is he about? And - as this obviously is the case! - why is this character (still) so important?

My own approach was similar because I entered into “wild speculations” about another question that I saw as important but nobody else seemed to care about: Why does Ophelia become mad? It was not that I detected this as a central question about the play, though a rather important question about this character. But the reason for asking a question about Ophelia was, as I see it now, that I knew there would be no point in asking questions about Hamlet himself. And the reason is an issue I raised in connection with Othello, and which is even more important for Hamlet: that this character is the centre of a web of prejudices which what I would call the “received structure” of the play consists of. And there is just no way of getting past it by a direct approach to the character. So I tackled Ophelia instead.

But why Ophelia? I think it was probably BECAUSE she appeared to me as the weakest, least interesting of the main characters – probably with the exception of Horatio who is certainly the most boring character. And maybe even more because I had always disliked her. And, at the same time, I knew I must be wrong about this. At least I knew that there must be A LOT MORE TO HER than I thought. And why did I know that?

Now I am once again at the center of my favourite issue about reading which is about method. At uni I learned a lot about method concerning the interpretation of fictional text, and I found this fascinating and, at the same time, always had doubts about it. Because what is taught as methodical approach often runs so obviously against what you do when you are reading. But I was a very docile student then – or pretended to be – and always masked my wild speculations with a sound methodical approach. And, of course, I realized already during my first semester what a methodical approach is for: to learn to ask questions and notice things you usually WOULDN’T SEE. In fact I think I LEARNED to read then, but in a very crooked way. Because reading always happens WHERE you become personally involved with the text, but, in this case, often the most crooked paths lead to the best places.

(And this might even be another important point about how reading improves us, and where my teacher has been right about fiction being a method to solve problems. Because the real world is always more complicated than we think it is. And there is always more to any significant issue about life than we think. If anything, something like “Hamlet” is much simpler than, for example, one single “living” political conflict, or one important personal relationship. At least I am convinced of this. And I am convinced as well that there is usually no direct and simple approach to solving such a conflict or improving a personal relationship we care about. But the only “playground” where we can probably learn to understand the complexity, the nature and causes of these real life issues, even analyze and “tackle” them without being directly involved, is the realm of fiction. This is probably the reason why truth and truthfulness are such central issues for me where fictional worlds are concerned. Though it is probably one of the most difficult and speculative issues in this field at the same time. And now I might just have taken a forbidden shortcut and touched the centre of “Hamlet” completely unintentionally …)

Concerning method, I became convinced that we use some methodical approach of a basic kind probably in any significant act of reading, which is every time we create meaning of our own. We just don’t become aware of it. Or at least not when everything works fine. The totally exciting thing about “figuring out” Ophelia was that I became aware that I had “created” a methodical approach by repeating a technique I had used on another text. And this methodical approach I had only used – and noticed! – because something I wanted to work just didn’t. To illustrate this I have to tell the complete story. It was about the tv production of “North and South” where Richard Armitage played John Thornton. I really noticed him for the first time in “The Hobbit” – as might be the case for most people who don’t usually watch British television. But, even though I loved his performance in “The Hobbit”, it took some time until I became aware “who” he was because I never “look up” my favourite actors, and nobody would recognize him from seeing “The Hobbit”! I first became aware of him as a real person when I saw an interview with him which made me laugh - because I had seen him “as a dwarf”! - when he kind of folded his long frame into the interview chair. And then I realized that I had seen him before, approximately five years ago, in “North and South”. I had borrowed the dvd and watched the series probably three times, as I usually do. I liked it but didn’t mark it down as “must have”, so I didn’t buy it. Which I did, of course, after having seen “The Hobbit”. And I could see then how great the acting was, but it still didn’t “work” on me, that is: nothing interesting “happened”. I was disappointed about this because I liked him so much as an actor, and you can see how much he had loved playing this. And I probably didn’t watch the “specials” the first time because there is an interview with him which is remarkable, even more so as you can see him positively beaming with pride and happiness about this achievement. And I kind of could see that he was right, so, in a way, I just HAD to be wrong!

But I still didn’t like the story. I know I must have read the book, probably a long time ago, because I recognized the story when I saw the series for the first time. But I didn’t remember having read the book, and I didn’t have it, so I probably hadn’t liked it. And I realized that it had to do with what KIND of story I thought it was. That it was probably the kind of love story I don’t like and have never been interested in. The kind where women make men “in their own image”. And I don’t even think I was completely wrong about this, but there is, of course, much more to it than the love-story. And there is more to the love-story than I could see as I was blinded by my prejudices. But the way I finally came to see that there was “more” I totally loved because it was through looking away from what I liked, looking instead at the characters I positively disliked. Which were Margaret’s mother, Maria Hale, and John Thornton’s sister. His mother I kind of liked, although she is horrible, because she is so tough. Maria Hale is played by Leslie Manville, an actress I like a lot, and who is brilliant at playing these unstable, self-pitying characters – as I guessed from her interview on “Another Year” strangely BY making herself “believe” in them and their good qualities! And I suppose it was her who made me “look”. But it was Fanny Thornton who finally made me ask the RIGHT question: WHAT is WRONG with her?

What is wrong with her, of course, is her mother! Although this is never said expressly anywhere it is so obvious that her mother never properly cared for her because the only person she has ever loved and is interested in is her son. Even her education must have been neglected, and how is somebody like this supposed to turn out as a proper human being? And this is such a common structure, in real life, that I couldn’t believe that I had missed it. And, of course, after this, I detected a lot of these structures. About Maria Hale: My god, I thought, this poor woman! What has she left, being forced out of a life she loved, forced to be in this dark house all the time, with no distractions, no social contacts, no real reason for ever leaving her prison … Yes, for me, this was like BEING IN PRISON! And this kind of character, with no potential at all for becoming tough and mean!, would never survive a prison.

And, after that, I suddenly saw a lot of this. In particular I saw a lot of prison walls. And all of them had a story written on them. Most of these prisons are for women, but there are a few, less visible, for men, especially where John Thornton is concerned. And this is where the story becomes interesting and genuinely moving: where people work their way round these walls to get at the life they really want. And, of course, great actors know exactly how to “hit” these “places”.

I still don’t “have” the story and I haven’t read the book because I still dislike Margaret Hale. I have always disliked heroes that “walk through walls” and people everybody thinks are great when they obviously haven’t done anything special. Though I can see better now why this kind of heroine has probably been important for women at the time! (And I am probably a real spoilsport for love-stories. I always imagine what their life together would probably be like. And, in this case, although they will probably be fine in bed (I never imagine that part!), the one thing I could imagine really well was their first row. I just couldn’t imagine how it would end because neither of them would probably give in …) So I haven’t “obtained” the story, but, by following the “crooked path”, I obtained the part of the story I was interested in.

And, from this experience, I knew this time that I did something deliberate by getting involved with Ophelia. I did something similar, not such a long time ago, when I finally “got my foot” into “Macbeth” by “accidentally” examining the porter’s scene and came up with the principle of “equivocation” which, in my opinion, is a moving principle of this play. So, this time, when I tackled Ophelia, I definitely knew what to expect but was still extremely surprised, as usual, about the nature and the significance of what “fell out”. The way I am planning to do this now, the appendix about “Hamlet” will be in three parts. This one being the first, the second will contain my argument about why I think Shakespeare suggests deliberately that Ophelia might be pregnant, and the third will be about the “ruling principle” of “Hamlet”, and why I think this play, and this “hero”, are at least as significant for the 21^st century as they probably were for Shakespeare’s own time.

Appendix 2: About Woody Allen and the tragedy of the “middle-class coward”

I see now that I have definitely changed my tactics about writing my blog, and it has, at least momentarily, become a real blog instead of this “book”, as I used to think of it, with long chapters that are self contained but document an ongoing experience. And the best thing about this experience is that it has had an impact on every significant piece of “reading” I have done since then, and there is almost always something interesting and unexpected “falling out”. (In fact, I could never have imagined it to become such a success.) So I shall now continue writing these “footnotes” and call them “appendices” because most of it is tying up loose ends and answering open questions. Some of these footnotes will probably be as long as chapters themselves, and in the end the whole “appendix” will probably be longer than the “book”, and the new issues I was planning to investigate will certainly have to wait much longer than the new year.

At the moment one thing is driving out another. So I was quite keen on writing about why, in my opinion, “Hamlet” is still so significant – and make a stronger case about why I think that Benedict Cumberbatch is THE actor to play “Hamlet” at the moment - and I had the argument ready, and part of it was already written, but it got longer and longer. And this morning, one of these things that had been “brewing” for some time as well, obviously fell out. And I’ll handle this first so that I cannot forget about it.

(Warning: I realized that, just this time, not all of what I have written might be “good taste”, and I was thinking of publishing a “toned down” version. But as I was disrespectful only to myself and have written a lot of good things about other people – which I rather liked! – I saw no real reason to do that.)

As in most cases, it started in the cinema. I went to see the new Woody Allen film: “Irrational Man”. There was a long period in my life when I never went to see his films – although there was probably one a year as there is now – but the last five years or so I saw almost all of them. And it would be interesting to find out how I re-discovered them. I don’t even remember which film was the first that convinced me to “follow” them again. The only one I have on dvd is “You will meet a tall dark stranger”, and this is mostly because of Gemma Jones who is one of my favourite actresses. And I was totally thrilled by “Blue Jasmine” which is “pure” Woody Allen without what I thought to be his hallmark: the humour and the strange “twists” of plot - that you can never tell what will happen beforehand and have to make up your mind “anew” about what is happening all the time. (O, of course I have this one on dvd as well.) But, on the whole, I still don’t like his films so very much, though, in the last years, I regularly went to see them. And this duality, as such, I find quite interesting.

Seeing “Irrational Man” though was exactly the same experience I had with almost every other Woody Allen film. I didn’t really like it, but I sat there, watching with growing fascination, thinking: This isn’t just good, this is genius! This is just SO completely different from everything else you see about contemporary people and their problems, and how they think and feel about life … But this time I didn’t leave it there. I definitely wanted to know why. And now I do.

Digging it up started with a memory I had about Woody Allen and my sister from about 25 years ago. Not the sister I usually talk with about theatre, or Tolkien and whatever we are just reading, and who is eleven years younger than I am, but the one who is just one year younger, and who had a significant “part” in my experience about “The Shrew”. At the time we were playing one of these “psycho games” that were quite popular and where you have to answer questions about your sex life and intimate things – which people would only play, I suppose, as long as there is practically nothing to tell! – and there was one question I couldn’t answer: Which famous person would you like to meet?

It was one thing that bothered me at the time: that I couldn’t answer that question. Although I certainly had “heroes” then, as I have now. But I had never wanted to meet them. And that was what bothered me, and just now I understand why it is significant in this context. Because, in a way, all I ever wanted was to meet with different, more interesting people than the ones I knew! I suspect I didn’t realize then what is most obvious: that meeting somebody implies them meeting me, and that would be it! One of the things I am chiefly fascinated with are different worlds – fictional and non-fictional – people live in, mostly without realizing it. And I think I knew this already at the time: that all the people I would want to meet were from a DIFFERENT WORLD. But what exactly the difference was between these worlds wasn’t very clear to me. And it never became THAT clear before now when I finally “read” Woody Allen.

In this case I needed some help to find out, and I got it from my sister. That was because I remembered her answer to that question from the game when I left the cinema. Which was: Woody Allen. I remember that I found this quite intriguing at the time, and that I never came to understand it. I certainly asked her, and she probably couldn’t explain why. All of this presupposes that there must have been some kind of meaning I attributed to his films already then, and I know that I saw a few, as she did, but the only thing I remember was that I never really liked them. And of course I didn’t perceive Woody Allen as an attractive person, not even 25 years ago, which was why I found her answer so interesting.

I went to see her recently, and I told her about the film and asked her about her answer. She still didn’t know, which didn’t surprise me. (And I think she didn’t even remember.) But we agreed that we both find Woody Allen interesting because he is so brutally honest about people. That he is interested in what people really are about – not what THEY THINK they are about. And as my sister hasn’t been to the cinema much in the last twenty years, as far as I know, this experience must date back to the time when she discovered Woody Allen.

What is really interesting about my sister and me is that we literally grew up TOGETHER, which means much closer than with any other sibling, and what we really have in common is so close to nothing that I wouldn’t know how to find it. I think now that we were probably too close to “see” each other, so finding out something like this about her NOW is really intriguing. As I think I found out something significant which I have probably known for a long time but never realized. Compared to me she was really “grown up” at the time, which means that she knew about herself. Not explicitly, but she knew WHO SHE WAS. Whereas I didn’t even have an idea of how stupid and immature I was, let alone why! And I even think there might have been “chemistry” between her and Woody Allen because they have something significant in common. I realized that I - from my incredibly narrow-minded point of view! – have always thought of her as somebody who is easily influenced by others. And I took pride in the fact that I wasn’t. This is probably true about me and might not even be such a bad thing, but I was dead wrong about her. And now, 25 years later, I might have reached that level of maturity and “experience” on a complicated path that she already had at that age. And I think the reason is that she has always been completely impervious to received ideas and prejudices, to the point that she never even showed an interest in forming opinions of her own, especially not about things she had no experience with! And at the time I thought of that as being rather naïve and dull, but now, after I have come to despise thoroughly all these “talk shows” and “talk programs” where people constantly repeat the same opinions which make even less of a difference to anything than a fart, I finally came to appreciate people like my sister who knows exactly what to make of all these people, and doesn’t even have to say it or think about it. Because she has always known what is important to her, and where her own truth is.

And what has this to do with Woody Allen? The moment when all of this ”fell out” was this morning when I heard on the radio, quite out of context, that Woody Allen thought of himself as a “middle-class coward” (which is my translation of “Mittelklasse-Feigling”, maybe he said something else, but it doesn’t matter.) And this expression kind of nailed the world where I live in to the wall, so that I would be condemned to look at it for the rest of my life. Because the difference, for me, between the “two worlds”, is not a difference between rich and beautiful and classy or powerful people on the one hand, and the world of the powerless, unattractive and average. (Even though these issues are in no way unimportant, but they are shifty, and their meaning depends on what everybody MAKES of them in their own lives.) The real difference is between the world of the “middle-class cowards” – which Woody Allen certainly has a right to call himself, together with most people who are dealing with arts and literature and that kind of stuff, by the way, they just don’t know it! – and the world of the “heroes”. And what, absurdly, makes Woody Allen one of my “heroes” from this day onwards is exactly this: that he knew his own truth and took it out and used it in this way to make significant films “about himself” that are about so many other people as well. Because all of these people in his films are “middle-class cowards”, even though practically all of them are rich - though being the kind of people that never think of themselves as rich - and kind of classy, with significant carriers, living in “significant” places like New York. That is places where most people don’t live because they never had a choice but because they WANT to live there. (Unlike here, in the US being “middle-class” already means being SOMETHING!) And even though most of them are as different from me as can be, they are all “middle-class cowards” like myself. And this is because all of them grew up with the experience that everything they wanted was already there, and they never felt the need to make an effort to get at it. And this is the reason that, from a certain point onwards, “we” were all carrying on with our miserable lives which are not ABOUT OURSELVES, instead of doing things we really care about. Chasing our own truth …

But this is not even all. Because what is really so significant about these films is that they are dealing exactly with the relationship between both worlds. And this is also what makes them so disagreeable. Because they are not only about “middle-class cowards” as such – there might be lots of them that are quite content with their “middle” lifes, and have never aspired to, or even imagined, anything “higher” or “different”. They are about people like me: middle-class cowards who want to be heroes, or rather see themselves as heroes.

When I am thinking about the “Irrational Man” I might even go so far as to think of Woody Allen’s films as “classics” of world literature, like, for example, greek tragedy. Nobody cares about greek tragedy anymore, including myself, but “everybody” knows what it is about and why it was such a significant “invention”. (As I have experienced on the occasion of “The Crucible”: the principle of “catharsis” still works. I might even have experienced it for the first time.) But I think what Woody Allen is exploring is just as significant, more significant even, for our own time. Certainly a person like Abe Lucas isn’t tragic in the first place but rather ridiculous. Not harmlessly ridiculous, as we all have a right to be from time to time, I hope, but like in Molière where ridiculousness is some kind of sickness, and dangerous. Dangerous to himself in the first place, but, as in a social being, to other people as well. Especially in this case, where lying successfully about yourself can convince other people of the attractiveness of your lie, which then kind of spreads and contaminates their lives as well. But, even more important: the ridiculousness might deceive us about the fact that something genuinely “tragic” is going on here. Because it is total despair about not being able to live an “authentic” life that is driving Abe to the desperate conclusion of taking another person’s life. By this act, in his own estimation, he has CHANGED from a middle-class coward into a hero, and maybe this is even his own truth. But EVERYBODY ELSE can see how ridiculous, and pointless, and questionable this attempt is.

And here comes the bit about contemporary tragedy which is probably the hardest to swallow. At least it is for me. Because I still kind of hope that Woody Allen isn’t right about this! But I am afraid that he is because I have often experienced this myself: that a tragic ending can be a relief because it puts an end to the “tragic” ridiculousness of the middle-class coward. But Woody Allen doesn’t grant us this relief. Now I could, probably for the first time, answer what question I would ask a famous person if I met them. (Though, in real life, I would probably be too cowardly to do this.) But I would really like to ask him if he believes that heroes exist, in real life. Though even this might not be relevant because he himself probably believes in an alternative to “middle-class cowardice”. But I am almost convinced that he sees it as a PERMANENT CONDITION. That is, he doesn’t believe in the possibility that a middle-class coward might change into a hero. And – damn him! – for all I know about this subject, which is quite a lot, he is probably right. I am certain that there are heroes, on all “levels” of existence - just not as many as in mainstream films. There are almost certainly even people I know (or know about) that are heroes, but, even though I am quite certain in some cases, in fact you can never know. Because for me being a hero means to be honest about yourself, at least in the area to which your “heroship” applies, because this is the only way to succeed. And to SUCCEED in being who you really are. I don’t know why I am that merciless about this, but succeeding is the only proof for having been honest enough, and having tried HARD ENOUGH. Though, in this case: who is there to judge but yourself?

And, “for all this”, I know I still live under the illusion that I have kind of changed from a middle-class coward into a “heroine”, at least in my own estimation. Because, in my own estimation, I feel that, lately, I have been much more successful in doing what I really care about than a few years ago. But, as in Woody Allen!, there is no way you can tell if you are lying about yourself. Being happy and focused might be an indication, but stupid, self-deceiving people are probably the happiest people in the world – as “in” Woody Allen! Only when their “made-up” world is shattered do they realize that there is no way “out”. (Or, worst case?, not even then … I just saw “Carol” and of course remembered Cate Blanchet in “Blue Jasmine”. Couldn’t believe it how she has “grown” as an actress, still!!! But in “Carol” there is a way out, and, of course, this is such a relief. My christmas present this year!) And I think I am wondering now for … two years minus, I just checked the e-mail!, almost exactly five days, WHY this HASN’T happened …

One of the most obvious things – which definitely speaks against my own claim to being a “heroine” – is that there is usually PAIN (or at least sacrifice) involved. And I think this is the reason that people like – or even crave – pain and suffering: that only then they can be certain of having been “heroic”. Even in an every-day context when people tell you proudly that they have worked 64 hours a week (which might not even be seen as heroic anymore, but normal!). Or how they have hurt themselves working out.

Part of this “fix”, for me, has to do with the internet. I loved the statement from a German comedian, Mathias Tretter, who said that, with the internet, you can finally LOOK AWAY and are NOT compelled anymore to take in all the muck other people are shoveling in your direction. And I think he is right. Because you have to make a decision about “making the click”. And I appreciate this new opportunity of AVOIDING information very much, and this is why I still don’t have a smart phone. But this is only one side of the coin. The other one is that the internet provides such unlimited space for “middle-class cowards” to masturbate away all they want, and even be under the illusion that they are doing something “special” - not hanging on to the muck the uneducated masses are hooked on. Well, as I said, Woody Allen is probably right …

He, on the other hand, doesn’t think of himself as a hero, but for me he is one. Because he is so brave about his truth, and so incredibly perceptive of course. And this is THE ONE THING I am hanging on to, and for which I am doing “this”, because this is something that can ONLY be done by reading - and writing, of course! - of FICTIONAL text: finding out the truth about those questions you really NEED answers to. (And that means: ALL the questions about yourself, not only those religion or other ideologies might provide answers for.) I had a teacher at uni who argued that literature is some kind of “training exercise” for solving real life problems. I still consider this to be rather naïve, but there is something to it. And it is anything but trivial, if you really think about how close to impossible it is to get at the truth of anything that matters, especially people!, IN REAL LIFE. – So, this is why I think that what Woody Allen does is so relevant, and why he is a hero, whatever he himself might think about it. Anyway, for me he is the guy who succeeded in nailing both of “my” worlds in this way and, by this, in laying the foundations for a contemporary tragedy which actually WORKS. And I think this should be enough. Heroic deeds and heroes do not always coincide - which would bring me directly to “Hamlet”, which (I hope) my next blog will be about.

Appendix 1: A footnote on "Macbeth"

When I learned that there would be a new „Macbeth“ film coming to the cinemas in late October I probably refused to become excited about it. I went to the cinema without any expectations – or rather with the vague expectation that it would probably be some kind of “Hollywood like” adaptation, with larger than life pictures of beautiful Scottish landscapes and a lot of gory fighting in it. And was very surprised – and pleased! – to find it to be something completely different. At least I HOPE that the people who recommended it to the “Games of Thrones” crowd have caused a great deal of disappointment! (Though I might be underestimating “Games of Thrones” and the people who watch it, of course, as it happens with “worlds” I don’t like.)

So, first of all, I was pleased to see something different. Even though the film contains, of course, beautiful Scottish landscapes and gory fighting. Which isn’t something I don’t like, as such. I was more surprised how much I liked the film despite its containing much of what I DEFINITELY don’t like: especially actors just speaking their text without acting it - apart from looking gloomy, or tragic, or shocked. (And I mean: all of them!) I don’t even think they were “encouraged” to act, and exactly this kind of dealing with the text – hacked to pieces and just kind of smashed on the big screen beside a dramatic landscape, significant faces and a superb soundtrack - developed its own poetic value. It is a really beautiful film, more of a “poetic” and subjective version of the story than an “epic” one. The way the camera closes in on people, and the ideas about bringing inner content on screen and finding additional motivation for the main characters, chiefly Macbeth himself, makes it more about their “souls” and their suffering than about what I usually want to see “in Shakespeare”: what exactly happens, and why, and why these characters behave the way they do. And this appeared to me as an interesting idea because I haven’t seen the play being “used” in that way – except in another film version: “The Tragedy of Macbeth” from 2012, which is rather good as well but no longer available, so I don’t have it on dvd. And both films show (like the “Hamlet” film with Ethan Hawke) that this approach certainly works.

But even though I liked the film, a lot!, it didn’t really “catch”. I even saw it twice because I wasn’t sure why I had liked it, but the second time wasn’t any more conclusive. I reckon this is because of my own, developing, version of “Macbeth” which is blocking the access to other versions. But I had an enlightening experience shortly after that, when I saw “Steve Jobs”, a totally amazing film – with Michael Fassbender, of course! (If it is not Colin Firth, it is Michael Fassbender these days.) And I thought: THIS is what I want to see when I see him. This is why I consider him to be one of the most significant and special actors I know. (Did, by the way, for quite a long time before there were at least two films with him every year!) And, “something like this” would even be a much more interesting version of “Macbeth” because, for me, a contemporary version of this play would be about somebody who violates his moral integrity – and WHO he is, as a person - because of his carrier. “Fame and fortune”, or whatever it is that most people think they want, of course. And then finds out the hard way that it wasn’t worth it. (This is not what “Steve Jobs” is about, by the way, but this kind of contemporary character fits my idea of what is interesting about “Macbeth” much better. On the whole, I always find the “acting” much more interesting than the suffering – more interesting and rewarding for the actors themselves, I suppose.) There is one thing though I totally agreed with, and which would be in my version as well: the amount of blood at the beginning and the end of it, and in between! (And this would even be the greatest disadvantage of a contemporary version: that you cannot SEE the blood!) In general I am not that “blood-thirsty”, but in “Macbeth” the blood is really significant.

And I came to understand only by and by why I had liked the film so much. Not because of the great acting, which OBVIOUSLY isn’t there! (To say that Michael Fassbender is one of the most significant actors I know doesn’t mean that I haven’t seen even some incredibly bad acting by him (in “Jane Eyre”) and some insignificant acting (in “Macbeth”), and in both cases it was probably not “his fault”.) And it wasn’t even because of the beautiful landscapes and powerful “aesthetics”. It was because of the determination to tell the story in a different way – NOT to deal with what Shakespeare has written. And this is even one of the benefits of film adaptations, compared to theatre productions where the opportunities of “avoiding” the text – just taking out of it what you please and put it wherever you like – are limited. There is much more room for telling YOUR OWN story – and this means to tell a version which is probably significant for the times we live in. And what makes “Macbeth” significant for our time appears to be that we cannot deal with the question which – obviously? - is at the centre of the play: How can it happen that somebody who is considered to be a “good person” by the people who know him – even “kind”, if his wife is to be believed who probably knows him best! – anyway exactly the kind of person that deserves trust and promotion, can turn into a blood-thirsty tyrant? This is so OBVIOUSLY what I read when I am reading “Macbeth”, and the interesting thing is that in only one of the nine versions I have on dvd people appear to be bothered by that question. And this is the contemporary tv version of “Shakespeare Retold” with James McAvoy as (Joe) Macbeth. As this is the only version where I can see that people have read the same text I read myself it is my favourite version, even though it has only “scraps” of “Shakespeare” in it. The other two versions where the “authors” were obviously bothered by that question to a point that they found it necessary to write a different story, where Macbeth – and Lady Macbeth – appear less guilty, are the two contemporary ones from 2012 and 2015 I have cited above. And this I find extremely interesting.

I still don’t know why “Macbeth” is my absolute favourite play, and, consequently, must be one of my absolute favourite “stories” as well. (Which is great, by the way!) But maybe this film has brought me a step closer to understanding it. My first conscious step in that direction was when I understood about the concept of “equivocation”, and what the “weird sisters” might be about – another great feature in “Macbeth” ABSOLUTELY NOBODY, apart from the authors of “Shakespeare Retold” (again!), shows any real interest in! And exactly this principle of “equivocation” which we find EVERYWHERE in Shakespeare appears to be extremely difficult for “us” to deal with. Whereas it is something I obviously understand, and love. And which is probably why I absolutely love “House of Cards”, and why the only bit from Goethe’s “Faust” I remember (and love) is:

“Alles, was entsteht, ist wert, dass es zu Grunde geht.”

(Everything which comes into being is worthy(!) of being undone)

(And there is a contemporary “version” by somebody called Nam June Paik I love even more: “Wenn zu perfekt, liebe Gott böse.” (If (something gets) too perfect god (becomes) angry.)

I know I am not even close yet, but - as, by the way, in “Hamlet”, “Lear”, and “Othello” - in “Macbeth” Shakespeare must have written something about ourselves, our lies and our lives which we absolutely DON’T WANT to deal with. Maybe the way we use the word “tragedy” in a contemporary context is an indication, because a “tragedy” nowadays is something horrible that happens to INNOCENT people. Whereas “tragedy” for the Greeks, and probably the Elizabethans as well, was a story about somebody who becomes guilty and is spending the rest of his time on stage DEALING with the consequences. And as I have this absolute horror of doing even the tiniest little bit of harm to anybody – I suppose not because of an unusual amount of “human kindness” in me, but because I couldn’t face the consequences! – this cowardice might even be at the root of my fascination with tragedy … What I absolutely loved about “The Crucible”, and found most appaling at the same time, is that practically everything that happens originates in this single moment of a single person losing control. (And, what makes Arthur Miller even more of a genius about telling the truth about human matters: He knew that, if something like this ever happened to me, my “guilt” would be the least of my worries …)