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.”)

About “living” in a fictional world

What I really love about writing this blog – among a few other things! – is how it makes me discover what I already know. Of course I already knew this, but it took me two chapters of writing and thinking about fictional worlds to discover WHEN EXACTLY “there is” a fictional world for me. When exactly my reading of fiction evolves into a fictional world.

At the end of my last blog I was about to rule out “Vanity Fair” as a fictional world. It was not because, similar to “Shakespeare”, there isn’t really a “world”. In the same way the vortex movement of the language, which permeates everything, creates a singular world practically from the moment I am reading the first sentence, the totally special way of looking at people “through” the irony, that permeates everything, instantly creates this singular world called “Vanity Fair”. And there is even this unusual awareness to be found in the narrator that his narration is creating a world, and where exactly this world begins and ends. To the point of even referring sometimes to things that would come into the story IF they didn’t surpass the realm of “Vanity Fair. So, as in “Shakespeare”, there is this extremely strong “vortex” at work, the dynamic structure, creating a self-contained universe.

I realized that I had already ruled out the “Spooks” as a fictional world, even though I have probably spent months of my life “in” this universe, because the series lacks this kind of structure. And I know that this is the reason that nothing “happened” WITH ME when I was watching, even though I became kind of addicted to it for a time. I probably just loved all these great actors (inter)acting in this crazy environment. And enigmatic characters always hold my attention – as long as they stay enigmatic. That was probably the reason why I liked Ros Myers. When the veil is finally lifted there might actually be “nothing”? Yes, there was even a lot of horrible “truth” to be disclosed, like in “Shakespeare”, which I loved, but it wasn’t the same kind of experience. Most of the time I was “just” watching. In this respect “Vanity Fair” was totally different even though it probably didn’t create a (permanent) world for me. But there was definitely something happening.

At the beginning, it was just laughing. Not derision, mind, I think I was laughing with pleasure about what I found there. And it must have been something I was looking for, some kind of opportunity to do what I wanted to do. So, the laughing had to be about something “serious”. And I certainly approve very strongly of the notion of a moralist which Thackerey “supports” in this novel. Even though I am probably acting rather “irresponsible” within my fictional worlds, compared to real life, morality, understood in the right way, appears to be a crucial issue for me. One of the most fascinating issues concerning the “Sagas of the Icelanders” always was to observe people trying to uphold certain moral standards quite outside of our well-known moral system based on Christianity. It is about which moral values are really important and prevent their world from sliding into chaos and utter destruction. (Which is, by the way, a BIG issue in “Shakespeare” as well …) It is also a key issue in the “Making of England” series where there is this clash between a heathen and Christian moral system, heathen being often equated with “immoral” in our age but, of course, it isn’t. It is just that the “heathens” were much more practical about moral values – which I would recommend strongly in some cases to improve our implementation of moral values. To stubbornly uphold moral values that are impossible to establish is rather a way of questioning their right to exist. And I think that “Vanity Fair” is a world which actively displays a structure to implement morality in people. Because, even though Thackerey makes fun of moralists in the most thorough way imaginable, he is of course himself a moralist. Thinking about it, to implement moral values in people outside of a religious context appears to me to be one of the most important reasons for creating fictional worlds in this early age of great English novelists. It is all about this parallel structure which makes us SEE things. But Thackerey is a very “advanced” moralist, probably even reformed his “trade” to the finest and most advanced it can be. And of course I am very pleased to see that it works on myself, as a child of the twentieth century, probably differently, but as strongly as it might have worked on his contemporary readers. At least for me there is no doubt that the part of the world that comes into “Vanity Fair” is a fundamentally immoral world. Not because it is devoid of moral values – or a world where moral values as such are systematically questioned and weakened to set something else free, as in “Hannibal” – but because people are completely and fundamentally ignorant and deceitful about themselves. This structure displays, in my opinion, exactly why moral values don’t have the slightest chance to be implemented within “Vanity Fair” – the one of the twenty-first century no less than the one of the eighteenth. And the key structure to make this work is to prove it on characters that are “real” people – not kind of “social types” to embody good features or vices. Because this makes it kind of tragic, and makes it genuinely work, making “us” understand what an ugly world “Vanity Fair” really is. I understand ALL OF THEM, as to who they are, what their predicaments are and where they come from, and in which way exactly they are “trapped” in this world. Even such horrible pricks as father and son Osborne, for example. They are truly “human” nonetheless, and if proof was needed for what I just wrote I could refer to the great BBC adaptation from 1998. Because this is what great British actors do best: examine these characters as to their humanity, find out exactly what these people are made of, and play it in a way which couldn’t be more convincing. And, by “being right” about every single character, the series turns out to be as great as the book, with the additional treat of seeing beautiful acting. But in this case I enjoyed reading the book - being more of an explorer myself in this world - slightly more.

So, unlike the “Spooks”, “Vanity Fair” contains this dynamic structure which corresponds with something “within” me and might create something lasting. Maybe it is not much: just making me feel better about the decision to live permanently outside this world of double standards and deceit. Which certainly isn’t a big thing for me because I am not good enough at any of these “accomplishments” to thrive in it. Certainly, the only person the narrator doesn’t ridicule in any way is Becky Sharp, and “we” are probably travelling with her while travelling in this world. But, honestly: who wants to “be” her?

But, even though the “serial” structure as such is not enough for me to create a fictional world, it is unlikely for a single novel – or play – to achieve that. If only because of the fact that I can stay in this world only when I am reading. Whereas the world of a series is extended automatically beyond the current episode because of my looking forward to the next episode, and the second series, and so on. When I made an inventory of my fictional worlds I forgot “Austen” – probably because this world is currently “inactive”. But it certainly still resides somewhere within me as a store of language, and structures, and pleasures. As there is a whole string of novels, not only one, and, not least, a lot of great adaptations by the BBC, the process of reading can be extended almost indefinitely, and, in a way, is still going on. I am still looking forward to anything new in this field, and will certainly read the novel again, if there is a new screen version of any kind, and probably be surprised … 

So, there is of course something that makes series the ideal candidates for fictional worlds, and a big part of my fictional worlds – temporary or permanent – are series, like “House of Cards” or “Hannibal”. The obvious reason is that it is easy to “stay” in them. I just have to watch. Nonetheless most series, like the “Spooks”, though I have spent a lot of time in it, didn’t become “worlds” because they are structurally weak. Whereas “House of Cards”, for example, certainly is a ”model” series but is structurally very strong already on the level of plot. This is usually a weak point of all series – except those that are adaptations of books, of course. And, in a way, “House of Cards” is, though there is no novel or book series behind it but some kind of pattern which is, I think, ultimately derived from Shakespeare as this kind of “wheel of fortune” or “rise and fall” plot. Interestingly, this is just what I EXPECT - and did, from the beginning - not having seen the fourth series yet. And I just realized why I am rather pleased instead of disappointed when a series comes to an end. It is because I put structure first. It is mostly structure that makes a text special and satisfactory, and “strong” enough to interact with me in a “serious” way.

So, series often make me feel as if I was in a fictional world, watching them, because I am spending so much of my time “in” them. But quite often I am “just” spending time, being rather passive, sometimes even wasting time, as I am not really watching, letting my thoughts wander instead. A lot of it might be more about how much I like to be in a fictional world, giving me the illusion that I am. But the totally different way watching some of them makes me feel is proof that there is a fictional world “at work”. And when that happens – that I have this exciting feeling of been drawn into it, feeling the vortex movement of a world being created – I know that I have to FIND A WAY of staying in it. I have to find out where my place in this world is, and how to “fill” this place. And this is the decisive criterion for me that I “am” in a fictional world. In the case of “Shakespeare” it appears as if it was the only world where JUST READING is enough. There is so much to read, and reading Shakespeare in itself is WORK. Of course, the crowning experience is to see productions of the plays, kind of like the reward for all the work. Without it, or without at least imagining them to be performed, there would be no point to the reading. So, there is a different kind of activity involved to “extend” the world beyond the reading. And I think that the simple concept of “work” is a very good one to explain what I mean. I am always so impressed and pleased if I find out HOW MUCH WORK an actor has probably done to create a certain character. And I suppose this is the one thing I really envy them, at least the only one which I can admit to, because envy is something I usually stay clear of. But it can be productive as well, and is, in this case, because it motivates me. It motivates me to think that I can be in this world AS WELL though I have to find my own way of “doing” this.

And, though most of it has to be done through a combination of reading and writing in my case, my ways of staying in different worlds have been very different as well. It usually involves some kind of “stronger” reading. In “Shakespeare” I always start reading aloud, usually when I am reading a play the second time. This has probably brought me back to something I liked a lot when I was an adolescent and had a younger sister I could read to. In the case of the “Making of England” series I re-discovered this as a means to intensify and “slow down” my reading. And it makes me add another dimension to the characters. When I read “Winnetou” to my sister I discovered that I was able to create voices for all these different – mostly male! – characters. In fact, I had to because there is a lot of dialogue in these books without any “he said” and so on in between the respective utterances, so that I had not only to figure out who was speaking but to make clear who was speaking by “doing” different voices. And I usually managed it, which I was proud of. And I am disproportionally proud of being able to do this still. And creating voices for the characters from Cornwell is not just such fun but provides them with an additional dimension which I came to understand better just yesterday when I observed clearly that one of the characters had spoken “himself” instead of me “speaking him”. It really happens when it goes well, when I have actually managed to CREATE characters by creating voices for them. By adding something of my own to Cornwell’s true-to-life personnel I had done something to bring the world to life, and, for me, to be closer, to be more involved in it.  And, of course, reading aloud makes me spend much more time “in” these novels than I would just reading them “in my head”.

So, the most important thing about creating fictional worlds, for me, is how much work I do “in” them, actively re-creating them for myself, kind of putting the world together. Concerning “Middle-earth” it was mostly writing my own “fan fiction”, in a way making sense of the history of the dwarves and their inclination to go on “suicidal” missions. (In fact, there are at least four of them. Besides Thráin’s and Thorin’s rather lunatic expeditions to the Lonely Mountain there is Thrór, entering Khazad-dûm to be killed(!), and Balin, doing the same thing, to be killed as well, although not right away.) Of course I was disproportionally proud of being able to write a hundred pages of fiction in English which I thought to be good writing. I am not so sure of that now, but at least my “mission” was successful. The dwarves and their lunatic pattern of behaviour finally made sense to me, and, together with the films and reading much more of Tolkien than I would have read without this project, it made me spent several years of my life in this world.

But this is still nothing compared to the work I did appropriating the world of the Icelandic sagas. There I practically (re)created the world “behind” the stories from scratch. There might not be many people who wouldn’t see my fan fiction as a lunatic enterprise, but kind of “pasting” together the world behind the sagas through making a file about all the inhabitants of this world, their family trees and stories about them, which is currently over 2000 pages long, over a period of twenty-odd years, certainly beats that. The project is still ongoing, even though I don’t experience much excitement at present, being in that world. But I had so much invested in it, and it would be such a pity to leave it after I finally learned Old Norse to be able to read the original saga texts. This is certainly very complex, but I kind of never really knew why I was doing it until I went to Iceland for the first time, in 2013. Maybe not even until I found “Kötluholt”. Though I was incredibly excited, of course, to see Thingvellir, to see the lava Snorri Godi sparked on, and to discover all the places seen and named for the first time by Skalla-Grim. All this was great beyond imagination, but when “it” finally happened it was quite an inconspicuous moment. I had been persuaded by the literature that the sagas were mainly “fiction”, but assumed that it might be possible to tell which characters had been real people, founded on how firmly they were rooted in this web of a real world which I extricated from the text. This might still be so, and probably is, but a little discovery gave me second thoughts about it. It was about the character of the witch Katla which appeared to me being invented for reasons of plot, the typical scape-goat you can pin the guilt on, so that more important characters might be exonerated. Travelling along the north coast of Snaefellsnes, I was looking into my map and found the place named “Kötluholt” at the exact spot where, according to “Eyrbyggja saga”, Katla’s farmstead was located. And I know this kind of experience is impossible to relate: but I had finally “hit” the “material” deposit of reality on which these stories are based. The moment I had become so excited about them had been when I had “got it” that they were about REAL people. And I had started to look for them, as this window into a past I was interested in but knew I would never have access to, regardless of how much I would read about it. And it appears that, at that moment, I had finally found what I had been looking for all this time, and somehow knew that not a minute of this incredible amount of time I spent “there” had been wasted.

And I really regret that I have to add a paragraph because this last sentence would have been such a great ending for this chapter about “living” in a fictional world. But, reading it again about three weeks after writing it, it has just made me realize completely why this issue of fictional worlds is so important to me. I DID know, of course, from the moment I came upon my second favourite quote by Richard Armitage from an interview about the “Hobbit” films, where he said that what he really wanted from his carrier was the opportunity to “investigate a character like this”. And when I realized: that is EXACTLY it! That is what I had set out to do: INVESTIGATE this world. And that was why it felt important, and why having to leave it for good felt so bad. And when there is pain I tend to examine it to find the cause, maybe to find a cure as well – which I did. – And, even though I didn’t really know that, I have probably always seen reading as “participation” – not as exclusion from somewhere I couldn’t really be because this world doesn’t belong to a “public”- which I might be a part of – but to some inaugurate minority who knows everything about it anyway. And this is exactly the reason why I almost stopped bothering with “serious” literature, using this term as an equivalent of “Ernste Musik” = “serious music” – which actually exists in German! Though I don’t think it is used anymore, having generally given way to the broader term “Klassik”. But Shakespeare or Austen are “classics”, and they are JUST NOT the kind of text which you are not supposed to understand unless you have somehow wormed your way into the author’s brain. I have had a lot of this kind of experience as well, and I think it has been important to understand how far people are able to travel using language as transport. But I have never really been interested in “literature”, which basically means: in authors. I have always mainly been interested in texts, and how they work, and what they do to me and why. And the most compelling thing they can do to me, and, I think, to most people, is to draw me in in that way. And, when I come out again, at least “something” will be different. I don’t come out of that process as the same person. Sometimes this doesn’t last, and then there is probably no permanent world created from this amalgamation of a text and myself. But when this actually happens, when this world is created through reading, there is no experience which I would prefer to it, and I want to repeat it over and over again. Except writing fiction myself, probably, but I might have forgotten by now what this was like.    

Suwa – the third episod

Again, another episode of Suwa, and, before that, some remarks about the new series of „The Hollow Crown“, and the last, of course, because it ends with „Richard III“. This just because there were some ideas that came into my mind, having now read the three parts of “Henry VI” again. (Yes, I had forgotten that there are THREE parts! I ALSO thought that there were two …) Of course this has nothing at all to do with Suwa but with two others of my fictional worlds, and how they still “proceed”.

First of all, I was extremely pleased to have the opportunity to see the whole story of the War of the Roses (including the Hundred Years’ War reduced to what felt like about as many seconds) in succession and am now looking forward to reading all the plays from “Richard II” to “Richard III” again and then watching the complete series as a proper celebration of the anniversary year. This experience of seeing such a substantial part of English history come to live was, I think, what got me into the “histories” in the first place, so that they, as a corpus of plays, are still my favourite part of “Shakespeare”. It began when I accidentally started on Shakespeare’s plays with “Henry V” because I remembered the Kenneth Branagh film and then remembered having always wanted to read all the “histories” (and, when I did, found out that I already had, twenty-odd years ago …) And I kind of had the same experience, watching them in succession in the old version by the BBC from 1978- . In a way it was even better, though the acting and the productions are mostly mediocre at best, but there is practically ALL that Shakespeare has written. Watching “The Hollow Crown” I was totally pleased to see all these great actors, many of which I knew from other significant roles, but I was disoriented as well. In the beginning I wasn’t even able to “pick up” the text without subtitles which irked me. And I don’t understand that now because it is actually very well and clearly spoken, in most cases. But I suppose it was because especially the beginning of “Henry VI” is totally mangled, and I just never knew where I was until I read the play again. But this is kind of what always happens to Shakespeare’s plays being made into films. There are lots of great fights and battles - and here, I think, the filming is even more extraordinary than in the first series - but the text is virtually missing. For example, I was SO PLEASED to see Philip Glenister as Talbot, and then he just says a few sentences and is dead! It is such a pity, and always appears to me to be a waste of great actors not to “let them lose” on that text! I am always looking forward so much to what might happen. And I cannot help being disappointed WITH THEM for not being “better” where it isn’t at all their fault. It sometimes appears as if they have to leap without being granted neither time nor space for a proper start. 

But I know that there is absolutely no point in lamenting that loss, and that I should be grateful for what is there – which I am! For example for Keeley Hawes playing Queen Elizabeth, giving me the final proof that she really is as good as I thought she could be, the way she dealt with that text! Or for seeing Ben Daniels as Buckingham, who plays one of my least favourite characters in “House of Cards”- as virtually the only British actor I could detect in this series! – playing him very well, of course. And Geoffrey Streatfeild, the only new character who made it worthwhile in my opinion to watch the tenth series of the “Spooks”, as King Edward! Though, disappointingly, he has very little to say … 

Nonetheless I came to think at one point: Had they but made a SERIES! Because, in the same way as in former times the fate of a story was ruled by its being turned into a play, into a novel or into a long poem, it is in fact always the format that determines which content can actually be produced and what it will look like. And, in the case of an adaptation, if it will match the depth and quality of the original. Of course “The Hollow Crown” basically IS a series, but it is not a typical serial format. It is a succession of “cinema format” films, each of them encompassing one play, or even one and a half, in the case of “Henry VI”. And, especially when I am thinking of “House of Cards”, I’d like to take up the cudgels for series. It was about the time when I read the “histories” that I took up watching it, and it reminded me of Shakespeare from the start. And now I finally know “completely” what the real reason was – both for reminding me of Shakespeare and for me becoming so fond of it. And it isn’t even always having to imagine Kevin Spacey as Richard III – even BEFORE I knew he actually played him! (Which might be the one thing in my life I became aware I missed irrevocably and which I kind of cannot accept that I did … shitttt! By the way, it might not have been as great as I imagine it because it depends very much on the production as well, and, judging by the few fotos I have seen, I have my doubts. Still … But now I have Frank Underwood instead – on dvd!) 

The real reason is that now, knowing the series so well and having read “Henry VI” again, having had the occasion to compare the “depth” of the play with the “shallows” it becomes being turned into films, I am sure that I was right about my first impression: that, if Shakespeare lived today, what he would have produced wouldn’t have been for the stage but would be something almost exactly like “House of Cards”. And there is not an ounce of overstatement in this, from my point of view, because the dialog is incredibly well written, and clear and profound – just “twenty-first century style”. And the characters are as complex and manifold and true as Shakespeare’s. Only the style has changed to this incredibly fast “action-based” pace we are used to. (Much too fast if you are not a native speaker …) Though, taking into account that the Elizabethans probably performed the whole text on stage - because, what would have been the point of writing it if they didn’t? - and that the plays couldn’t have taken that much longer than they do today … well, maybe they did, and people just had a longer attention span – respectively took breaks repeatedly to do whatever they felt like doing during the plays. In any case they couldn’t have taken THAT much longer nonetheless, and so the actors must have spoken the text incredibly fast. (Which, by the way, based on self-experiment, is the best way to “swallow and digest” big chunks of it …)

And I don’t just think that Shakespeare wouldn’t probably have bothered with theatre but would have produced films and series – as a typical tragedy, like “Lear” or “Macbeth”, or comedies of course, wouldn’t have been series but films – but that, not outwardly but “intrinsically”, Shakespeare’s “Richard II – Richard III” is a serial format. With the wheel of fortune coming full circle again after so many rounds! To produce them that way was not an option because the format didn’t exist then, but I am sure he would have written them as a series, not as eight films, if he lived today. At least this would have been the ideal way, and in fact the only one, to get all this complexity of action and characters, who are all of them historical entities with rather complex back-stories, onto the screen. And I am sure that the “histories” are what “House of Cards” is based on, and the reason why it is so good, why the writers knew so exactly what they were doing. At least in the beginning - from a certain point onward something like this becomes self-sustaining. (I meant “intrinsically” again – as to plot it is (of course!) based on an old BBC series with the same title – which might have had some “Shakespeare” in it as well, but I am in no position to judge.) There are obvious features as well which link the series to Shakespeare, especially the “aside” speaking which is turned into Frank Underwood speaking directly into the camera (and which they took from the BBC series as well). And it is certainly not coincidence that, watching it, I always think I know what to expect – where this is going. Though they might still surprise me in the end?

I wrote in one of my last blogs something about “Shakespeare” becoming a standard for me – for what I think to be great and what I want to read - which usually nothing can really match. Not even, usually, any production of his plays! And “House of Cards” is probably my best example so far of what this means because this series is the only “text” I have encountered so far that can. It is EVERYTHING Shakespeare has written in “Richard II – Richard III” – within a contemporary context. Of course I realized this from the start but became fully aware of it taking up “Henry VI” again, with all the reading experience I have had in the meantime, and was struck anew by the way Shakespeare could turn historical complexity into “digestible” fiction. Which can be great fun as well, even where it is really gut-wrenching. But, apart from being fiction and not history, “House of Cards” is exactly like this – to the point of being the only production based on “Shakespeare” which matches the expectations reading Shakespeare triggers in me completely. So, I am looking forward to the third (and last!?) series coming out on dvd in December as kind of a crowning experience of the “Shakespeare year”.

Episode 3: Opres und der Blutprinz

Als sich alle Gäste von dem Königreich und den Limaris verabschieden, gibt es noch ein Hurra für Sama und Opres. Danach wird Opres zum König ernannt.

Opres und Sama haben Lust, sich wieder auf ein gefährliches Abenteuer zu begeben. Sie spüren, dass der Blutprinz dort sein wird. Doch sie wissen, dass es dabei noch eine Frage gibt: Wo steckt Ulsoro?

Opres hat sich mit seinem Gold ein Haustier geholt, das daran gewöhnt ist, im Eis zu leben. Deshalb hat er künstliches Eis mit ein bisschen Kraut. Aber er weiß, wenn der kleine Wurm nur ein bisschen zu viel davon frisst, wird er ein 1,56 Meter großes Viech werden. Deshalb füttert Opres ihn nur zweimal am Tag.

Opres und Sama fliegen mit dem Raumschiff nach Blutlas, um dort gegen den Blutprinz zu kämpfen. Sie kriegen bei der Raumschiff-Fahrt noch Nachrichten von anderen Völkern, die ihnen davon berichten, dass der Blutprinz von Blutlas auf den Planeten Ulsora fliegt.

Auf einmal bemerkt Opres, dass hinter ihnen ein Schuss ist, der von dem Raumschiff des Blutprinz kommt. Opres und Sama stürzen mitten auf den Planeten Blutlas. Als sie angekommen sind, nehmen sich Opres und Sama einen Eimer aus Eisen, mit dem man sonst Lava aus dem Feuerplanet herausschöpft. Sie benutzen ihn, um sieben Kilogramm des Sandes von Blutlas mitzunehmen. Sie stellen ihn in ihr Raumschiff.

Sie laufen über Blutlas.

Opres sagt: „Das ist ja ein Planet mit ganz schön viel rotem Sand.“

Sama antwortet: „Da hast du Recht. Dieser Planet besteht aus Sand. Doch hier gibt es auch noch etwas anderes. Wie auf unserem Planeten gibt es hier Leben.“

Auf einmal strömen winzige Würmchen aus einem kleinen Loch auf Blutlas.

Sama sagt: „Das sind Tiüf-Würmer. Sehr intelligente Tiere.“

Opres antwortet: „Die sehen aber nicht so intelligent aus. Mehr süß.“

Sama antwortet: „Ja, die sind tatsächlich so klein wie Regenwürmer.“

Opres fragt: „Kann man die anfassen?“

Sama sagt: „Ja. Die sind ziemlich harmlos.“

Opres nimmt sich einen auf den Finger. Doch mit einem Kriecher ist dieser Wurm sofort wieder auf dem weichen Sand gelandet. Dieses Mal nimmt Opres seine ganze Hand, um den kleine Wurm in die Hand zu nehmen. Dieses Mal klappt es. Opres merkt, dass er vergessen hat, die Tür von seinem Haustier zuzumachen. Gerade will es einen Bissen von dem Futter nehmen, da nimmt es Opres in die andere Hand. Der Tiüf-Wurm freundet sich dann mit dem Haustier von Opres an.

Opres hat gar nicht bemerkt, dass der Blutprinz eingetroffen ist und dass er gegen seinen Vater kämpft. Opres kämpft mit. Zusammen schaffen sie es, dem Blutprinz eine Panzerung an seinem Bein abzuschneiden. Gerade als Opres versucht, dem Blutprinz das Bein abzuschneiden, wackelt der ganze Boden. Der Blutprinz bricht in ein höhnisches Gelächter aus. Sama und Opres bemerken, dass Ulsoro eingetroffen ist.

Sie wollen gerade Ulsoro angreifen, da zeigt Ulsoro ihnen auf einem kleinen runden Bildschirm, dass Arinn und Geen in Gefahr sind. Opres sieht, dass ein Krieger, den Opres noch mitgenommen hat, das Raumschiff repariert hat. Der Blutprinz und Ulsoro haben das nicht gedacht. Dadurch schaffen es Sama und Opres wegzufliegen. Ulsoro und der Blutprinz wollen sie aufhalten, doch sie sind zu schnell.

Als sie auf dem Feuerplaneten, auf dem die beiden Krieger in Gefahr sind, landen, merken sie, dass es auf einmal sehr still ist. Ein Drache liegt tot am Boden. Doch als sie bei dem Drachen sind, bemerken sie, dass der Drache es geschafft hat, Arinn zu töten. Geen schaut mit einem traurigen Blick auf den Boden.

Opres und Sama sind sehr traurig, weil Arinn getötet wurde. Sie versprechen Geen, dass sie ein Trauerfest feiern werden für den besten Freund von Geen, Arinn.

Aus dem steinigen Boden schießt auf einmal ein riesiges Wesen heraus. Es ist der Vater von dem Drachen. Mit einem Brüller schleudert der Drache Geen zurück. Der Drache spuckt Feuer und trifft Opres fast. Doch der weicht aus und nimmt mit einem flinken Griff sein Energieschwert, zündet es an und springt auf den Drachen. Opres sticht ihn in die beiden Augen. Der Drache kann nichts mehr sehen. Er geht in die Richtung, wo Sama war, doch der weicht aus. Der Drache geht weiter und schlägt mit seinen Klauen überall hin, da, wo er Opres spürt. Doch der weicht immer flink aus.

Sama sieht, dass der Blutprinz sich auf dem Drachen befindet und ihm was ins Ohr flüstert. Dadurch weiß der Drache, wo er seine Klauen hinschlagen muss, um Opres zu töten. Doch er weicht so lange aus, bis ihm die Kraft ausgeht, und springt dann mit seiner letzten Kraft auf den Kopf des Monsters und sticht ihm einmal in den Kopf.

Opres springt von dem Monster herunter. Sama und Opres kämpfen gegen den Blutprinz. Es entsteht ein langer Kampf, bis Geen es schafft, eine Luftkraft zu entwickeln, um den Blutprinz zurückzuschleudern. Dann fliehen sie. Der Blutprinz schnellt ihnen hinterher.

Gerade als sie bei dem Raumschiff sind, sehen sie, dass Tirra, eine Hexenfreundin von Opres, gegen den bösen Zauberer Galvoss kämpft.

Galvoss war schwach, weil er so gut wie keine Gestalt mehr hatte. Doch dann wurde er mächtiger und wurde dazu ernannt, Tirra zu töten. Opres will ihr gerade helfen, doch da schwingt der flinke Zauberer seinen Stab und tötet Tirra. Als Galvoss bemerkt, dass Opres und Sama da sind, fliegt er mit seinem Monster mit Flügeln weg.

Opres sagt: „Schnell, ihm hinterher!“

Doch Sama sagt: „Nein, dein Volk macht sich schon Sorgen um Geen, Arinn und uns.“

Geen, Opres und Sama fliegen zurück nach Galnzes, um dort wieder ein Fest zu feiern. Das Trauerfest. Sie stellen das Restliche von Arinn in ein Feuer und verbrennen es. Danach feiern sie ein fröhliches Fest.

(Episode 3: Opres and the Blood Prince

When the guests took their leave of the realm and the Limaris they cheered Sama and Opres. Afterwards Opres was appointed king.

Opres and Sama are getting keen again to set out on a dangerous adventure. They anticipate that the Blood Prince will be there. But one question remains: Where is Ulsoro?

Opres has used his gold to buy a pet which is used to living in the ice. For this purpose he has brought artificial ice with a small amount of herbs. But he knows that, if the little worm only gets a little bit too much food, it will turn into a monster of about 60 inches. Because of this he feeds it only twice a day.

Opres and Sama are travelling in their spaceship to Blutlas in order to fight the Blood Prince. The are getting messages of other peoples during their voyage which relate that the blood Prince is on his way to Ulsora.

Suddenly Opres feels that they have been shot at from the spaceship the Blood Prince is travelling on. Opres and Sama crash onto the planet Blutlas. After having arrived, they pick up a bucket of iron which usually serves to collect lava from the Fire Planet. They use it to collect seven kilos of sand from Blutlas which they put into the spaceship.

They are walking on Blutlas.

Opres says: “There is a lot of red sand on this planet.”

Sama answers: „You are right. This planet is made of sand. But there is also something else. As on our own planet, there is life.”

Suddenly there are tiny worms streeming out of a small hole on Blutlas.

Sama says: “These are tiüf-worms. Very intelligent animals.”

Opres answers: “They don’t look that intelligent. They look sweet.”

Sama answers: „Yes, they are in fact as small as earth-worms.“

Opres asks: „Can I touch them?”

Sama says: „Yes, they are not dangerous.“

Opres gathers one of them on his finger. But with one crawl the worm has again landed on the soft sand. Opres uses his hand to gather up the worm. This time it works. Opres realizes that he has forgotten to close the cage-door on his pet which is just trying to get at the food. Opres gathers it up into his other hand. The tiüf-worm and his pet become friends.

Opres hasn’t realized that the Blood Prince has arrived and is fighting his father. Opres joins the fight. Together they manage to cut some of the armour off the Blood Prince’s leg. Just as Opres is trying to cut the leg off the earth begins to shake. The Blood Prince sneers at him. Sama and Opres realize that Ulsoro has arrived.

They are just about to attack Ulsoro when he shows them on a small, round screen that Arinn and Geen are in danger. Opres sees that one of their men has repaired the spaceship, which came as a surprise to the Blood Prince and Ulsoro. Because of this they are able to escape. Ulsoro and the Blood Prince are trying to stop them, but they are too fast.

Having touched down on the Fire Planet where the two warriors have been fighting, they suddenly realize that it is very quiet. A dragon is lying on the ground dead. As soon as they have reached the spot they can see that the dragon has killed Arinn. Geen is standing there sadly, his eyes fixed on the ground.

Opres and Sama are very sad that Arinn has been killed. They promise Geen to arrange a funeral feast for his best friend Arinn.

Suddenly a giant creature emerges from the rocky ground. It is the father of the dragon. With a roar he pushes Geen off his feet. The dragon is spewing fire and almost hits Opres. But he side-tracks the dragon and, swiftly drawing his energy sword, switches it on and jumps on top of the dragon. He takes out both of his eyes with the sword. The dragon cannot see anything. He approaches Sama who side-tracks him. The dragon marches on, striking in every direction with his claws, wherever he can feel Opres. But Opres side-tracks him swiftly.

Sama beholds the Blood Prince on top of the dragon whispering in his ear. Because of this the dragon knows where to strike to kill Opres. But Opres side-tracks him until his strength is gone. He uses his last energy to jump on top of the dragon and pierce his head with his sword.

Opres jumps off the monster’s back. Then Sama and Opres are fighting the Blood Prince. A long fight ensues until Geen manages to develop an air power to fight back the Blood Prince. They are able to get away. The Blood Prince follows them.

Coming back to their spaceship they see that Tirra, a witch and friend of Opres, is fighting the bad wizard Galvoss.

Galvoss had been weakened because he had lost his shape. But then he grew powerful again and was appointed to kill Tirra. Opres is just about to help her when the wizard suddenly wields his magic wand and kills Tirra. When Galvoss realizes that Opres and Sama are present he escapes on the back of a winged monster.

Opres says: „Let’s follow him!“

But Sama says: “No, your people is already worried about Geen, Arinn, and us.”

Geen, Opres, and Sama return to Galnzes to celebrate Arinn’s funeral. They burn Arinn’s remains. After that they feast.)