Richard Burbage died #OTD 1619

In 1598, in the last days on the year, a group of men tore a building down in Shoreditch. Giles Allen, who owned the plot of land had claimed that the building being dismantled belonged to him, since the lease on the land had expired. The men disagreed, and when Allen went off to his country home for Christmas, they picked the building apart, and transported it, timber by timber, to a warehouse in Bridewell. That spring they rebuilt that building, the Theatre, and adorned it with a new, more imaginative name. The Globe had come into being.

870px-British_-_Richard_Burbage_-_Google_Art_ProjectRichard Burbage was 31, already a successful actor, when he rebuilt his father’s Theatre. When he played a part in creating the Globe, Burbage erected a stage he would come to rule. If the marble slab to his – and James Burbage’s, Cuthbert Burbage’s, William Somers’, Richard Tarlton’s, Gabriel Spencer’s, William Sly’s, and Richard Cowley’s – memory in St Leonard’s is to be believed, his most memorable thespian achievements took the form of Richard III and Hamlet.

He was a shareholder in the Lord Chamberlain’s Men, who would become the Queen’s Men, and then, with James’ ascension, the King’s Men. Shakespeare left him money in his will, alongside John Heminge and Henry Condell, for mourning rings. Burbage overtook Shakespeare on the final stretch of road, while Heminge and Condell went on to become the driving forces behind the First Folio in 1623.

When Burbage died, in early March 1619, the sorrow that enveloped London and particularly the theatrical world of the capital was so all-encompassing it became the subject of an anonymous mocking verse, punning on the opening lines from Henry VI part 1:

Hung be the heavens with black, yield day to night!
Comets importing change shoot through the sky:
Scourge the foul fates that thus afflict our sight!
Burbage, the player, has vouchsafed to die!
Therefore, in London is not one eye dry:
The deaths of men who act our Queens and Kings,
Are now more mourn’d than are the real things.

A second Globe stood where the Theatre’s timbers had turned to ash in 1613, but it was a hollow world, the poet complained:

Hereafter must our Poets cease to write.
Since thou art gone, dear Dick, a tragic night
Will wrap our black-hung stage

 

For more information on Richard Burbage check out these books:

C.C. Stopes Burbage and Shakespeare’s Stage (PR3095)

Bart Van Es Shakespeare in Company (PR2957)

Evelyn Tribble Early Modern Actors and Shakespeare’s Theatre – Thinking with the Body (new)

 

Sara Westh, Library Support Assistant

Branagh’s Shakespeare Renaissance

The current exhibition at the Shakespeare Institute Library showcases highlights from the Library’s archives featuring the work of Sir Kenneth Branagh, taken from the Renaissance Theatre Company Collection, the Renaissance Films PLC Collection and the Russell Jackson Collection.

Featuring a selection of photographs, manuscript notes, typewritten notes, location notes, camera scripts, cast lists, filming breakdown reports and story boards, the exhibition offers a fantastic insight into the transformation of written text into a compelling cinematic representation. It focuses on 1996 film of Hamlet, directed, produced and adapted for the screen by Branagh, who also plays the lead role, and the 2006 film of As You Like It, also produced and adapted for screen by Sir Kenneth.

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Hamlet, story board, Russell Jackson Collection, SIL, DSH28

Much of the material is held in the Russell Jackson Collection, recently donated to the Library by Professor Jackson and which is currently being catalogued.  Jackson has worked with Branagh for over thirty years as a textual consultant on many of his stage productions, radio plays  and all of his films. This invaluable collection contains a wealth of material covering Branagh’s career as actor and director to date. The exhibition features Jackson’s  full annotated script of the 1993 BBC Radio 3 production of Romeo and Juliet as well as his manuscript diary of the filming of Hamlet. For further insight into Professor Jackson’s role as text advisor on these and other film and stage productions, read his article ‘Working with Shakespeare: Confessions of an Advisor’, Cinéaste, Vol. 24, No. 1 (1998), pp. 42-44, available via FindIt and JSTOR.

Prof. Jackson will also be discussing his work with Branagh in a special Q&A with Prof. Michael Dobson, to accompany the exhibition. This will be held at the Shakespeare Institute on the 7 March from 4.30-5.30pm. 

It is also thanks to Russell Jackson that the Renaissance Theatre Company and Renaissance Film collections are held in the Shakespeare Institute Library archives. The RTC Archive contains prompt books, programmes and production photographs from  1986 to 1992, when the company was disbanded. The Renaissance Film archive is lesser in extent, but includes the script, story boards and promotional material for Branagh’s Henry V.  The Shakespeare Institute Library also holds an extensive selection of books, articles, newscuttings and DVDs related to these productions.

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Kenneth Branagh, directing on the set of As You Like It at Wakehurst Place in West Sussex.

As well as his many other accolades, Sir Kenneth Branagh is an honorary fellow of the Shakespeare Institute – an honour of which he is ‘very proud’, according to a handwritten letter which also features in the exhibition. He was also the 2015 recipient of the Pragnell Prize, awarded annually for outstanding achievement in extending appreciation and enjoyment of Shakespeare’s works.

The exhibition will remain in place until the end of March.

Follow this blog for extracts from Russell’s Hamlet diary over the next couple of months.

 

 

Works of Kenneth Branagh available through Box of Broadcasts:

Antony and Cleopatra (Branagh as Antony)

As You Like It (Shakespeare Film Company)

Hamlet (BBC Radio 3)

Henry V (Renaissance Films)

King Lear (BBC Radio 3)

Romeo and Juliet (BBC Radio 3)

Kenneth Branagh: a Culture Show special (BBC2)

The Readiness is All: the filming of Hamlet (behind-the-scenes at the making of Branagh’s Hamlet)

 

The National Theatre … Bloomsbury?

In December 1913 The Times announced that a site in London had been acquired to build the Shakespeare Memorial National Theatre. Located on Keppel Street between Malet Street and Gower Street in Bloomsbury the land was bought from the Duke of Bedford for approximately £60,000.

national-version-6The project was being run by the Shakespeare Memorial National Theatre Committee which was formed in 1908 by combining two existing movements. The first was a National Theatre campaign which had been rumbling along since the mid-nineteenth century and gained impetus in 1904 after the publication of William Archer and Harley Granville Barker’s book A National Theatre: Scheme & Estimates which detailed plans for funding and running a national theatre. The other was the Shakespeare Memorial Committee, founded in 1905 on the money of a brewer who wanted a Shakespeare statue installed in London. The proposed statue proved to be very unpopular but a way forward was found by  Committee-member and  English professor, Israel Gollancz, who carefully used the word ‘memorial’ rather than ‘statue’ in their resolution, thus satisfying the brewer while leaving the way open for a theatre.

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The newly formed Committee included actor-managers, composers, academics and writers,  Harley  Granville Barker, George Bernard Shaw, Sidney Lee, Thomas Hardy and prominent Stratford novelist, Marie Corelli. A key member was Edith Lyttelton who not only organized fund-raising and wrote a Shakespeare Pageant, performed at Knole Park, but also secured the first major business donation to the funds of £70,000.

lyttelton-5The Committee had considered and rejected various sites in London including Spring Gardens, off The Mall and a site near Waterloo Bridge on the South Bank. This was rejected on the grounds of difficulty of access. There were concerns that Keppel Street was too far from the London theatre district to attract audiences but Sir Herbert Beerbohm Tree pointed out that ‘we have motors to-day’. Harley Granville Barker argued that people would set out deliberately to visit the theatre rather than drop in by chance ‘a place they will decide upon at least a day before they visit it’. 

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Not everyone was in favour: an anonymous letter in the Daily Express noted the proximity to the British Museum and asked ‘Could anything be more appropriate for this fossilised idea?’

Nevertheless, Israel Gollancz stated the aim of having a national theatre worthy of Shakespeare’s name open in time for the celebrations of the tercentenary in 1916.

War intervened. The Committee was broken up for the duration and the theatre was never built. In 1916 a hut was put up on the site by the YMCA for the benefit of troops and known as the ‘Shakespeare Hut’. The plot was sold in 1922 and is now the site of the London School of Hygiene and Tropical Medicine.

History repeated itself when the Shakespeare Memorial National Theatre Committee bought another plot in 1937, this time on Exhibition Road in Kensington. Plans were drawn up by Edwin Lutyens and funds were raised. Another war intervened and another plan was abandoned.

Finally attention turned south of the river.

For more information see The History of the National Theatre by John Elsom and Nicholas Tomalin (Cape, 1978).

Kate Welch, Senior Library Assistant

The Roundhouse: the best railway shed in town

‘It was the bunker for exploratory beliefs, in the form of plays, philosophical debate, poetry and marshal-amplified rock that quaked round the fat and lime-mortared drum like a constantly replayed pile-up on the M1’.

‘A Victorian train-shed built like a brick privy….’

‘A big, butch bothy…’

‘Surplus army coats, body odour…charred and onion-ringed comestibles from the dodgy concession stands, tinnitus…like angry wasps on helium…wedged in your ears.’

‘anarchic….’

The Roundhouse / Camden

So the Roundhouse at Chalk Farm was variously described during its second great incarnation from 1964 to 1983. If the term ‘arts arena’  means a laboratory for thinking about and presenting arts from all cultures and disciplines,  in a way that energises connections between exhibition, performance, debate, festival, lecture and conference, then it was the first of its kind in this country. And it was the brainchild of an eminent English playwright.

sketchThe Roundhouse was a historic original, purpose- built in 1865 to service locomotives. A turn-table encircled by 24 cast iron columns dominated the interior, with an intricate cat’s cradle of thin interconnecting supports above. Though completely pragmatic in design, the interior had that stripped back, aesthetic beauty that some Victorian industrial architecture seems to acquire by accident. The symmetry and spareness of linked Doric columns around a central space evoked the design of classical theatre. Even in early etchings ,the interior has a sense of enigma and presence.

 

The building went on to function as a warehouse after becoming redundant as an engine shed, and fell into disuse just before World War 11. It was not to be re-opened until the early 1960s.

In London, post-war austerity had given way to a new wave of self-expression and liberation: there was a sense of disillusion with the existing order and the era of the Swinging Sixties was poised to begin. The anti-establishment feeling had already made its impact on the arts and the so-called angry young men’ of the mid-1950s – dissenting, radical and even anarchic in their views – were focusing on ‘gritty’ social realism. In the theatre, John Osborne’s Look Back in Anger was a landmark play, sparking off a new genre – shocking and deeply distasteful to some – known as ‘kitchen sink drama.’  In both theatre and the novel there was a new emphasis on working class people and their disenchantment with an intelligentsia seen as largely upper-class and hopelessly out-of-touch.

weskerProminent among the new dramatists was Arnold Wesker. The commercial success of his ‘Trilogy’ of 1960 enabled him to put into action his liberal-radical ideas. The arts in Britain were ‘a mean joke’, he declared; culture should be freely available and accessible to all, not just to an elite.

His bold plan was to establish an inclusive arts centre which would provide a secure venue for performers. A permanent company of actors, a resident orchestra and jazz band were envisaged, along with provision for a wide variety of concerts, plays and other forms of artistic expression. There were, over a twenty year period, to be an art gallery, library, dance hall, work-shops, a youth club and a restaurant.But where to find a suitable space?

1855-original-fitandcrop-550x823Wesker’s recognition of the potential of the Roundhouse was inspired. A campaign to raise funds to refurbish it was launched and, re-named as Centre 42, it opened as a live entertainments venue in October 1966. The event was variously described as ‘epic’, ‘legendary’ and a ‘revolutionary event in English thinking and alternative music.’  An underground newspaper – International Times – was launched that evening and sugar lumps, handy for ingesting LSD, were allegedly handed out at the door. An unknown new group called Pink Floyd performed. They would be followed over the next few years by Led Zeppelin, David Bowie and bands such as The Rolling Stones, The Clash and The Yardbirds.

brook_tempestThe Roundhouse was very far from the plush West End theatres where plays were usually performed.Its spare, graceful interior; the almost limitless potential of playing in a large circular space (no stuffy proscenium arch here) stimulated directors to experiment and innovate. Their treatment of Shakespeare was radical and the young director Peter Brook, already known for his convention-defying work, produced an account of The Tempest which provoked a critical storm. Tradition was swept aside in a house which had no seats and so blurred the line between audience and actors. Brook’s direction managed to include rape, sodomy and domination and the text was interspersed with mime, chanting and guttural noises. Some critics were baffled and begged to be told what it all meant; others declared that it was not Shakespeare at all but merely made occasional reference to the original.  But in general, the production was acknowledged as something extraordinary and it was conceded that experimentation was healthy and necessary.

In 1969, the maverick director Tony Richardson cast Nicol Williamson in his production of Hamlet. Williamson was the notorious bad boy of the theatre but his talent was not in doubt. John Osborne judged him to be ‘the greatest actor since Marlon Brando’ and Olivier was quoted as saying that Williamson was his ‘closest challenger’ as the leading man of English-language theatre.

hamletWilliamson‘s Prince was biting and hostile. Unlike the beautifully articulated oration of former actors, his voice snarled with a nasal twang somewhere between Brummie and Glaswegian. Many playgoers had not experienced theatre in the round, or such an alarming proximity to the actors. They had never seen saliva fly. This Hamlet was nobody’s fool but had assessed the corrupt Danish court with the most penetrating acuity:  the text was loaded with his loathing and blistering contempt. But, in contrast, his affection for Horatio showed him as warm and endearing, and the scene in Gertrude’s ‘closet’ was almost unbearably intimate: some felt like intrusive voyeurs and wanted to creep away in embarrassment. The bar, at the interval, was packed with people in passionate discussion of the play.

The performance was judged as ‘iconoclastic’, ‘touched by genius’and ‘a benchmark’.  Michael Billington called it the most exciting Hamlet for more than a decade, while the P.M. Harold Wilson described it at length in a meeting with the U.S. President, Richard Nixon. The role had been redefined.

Steven Berkoff’s Hamlet of 1980 followed. The director wanted to offer ‘simple uncluttered Shakespeare in the round’ but the audience was unprepared for a totally bare stage surrounded by actors in black, humming wind noises on the non-existent battlements of Elsinore. Props were minimal – there was even an absence of rapiers in the duel scene. But, after all, Shakespeare himself had set the trend, and the playwright turned out to be a member of the cast. Berkoff, in the leading role, wore a striped blue suit with punk-inspired accessories. Notices were unfavourable, however, and at least one reviewer was so negative that the inflammable Berkoff threatened to murder the man.

The Roundhouse went on to stage Catch My Soul, a rock musical based on Othello in which a blacked-up chorus line danced to Mexican music. It was unusual, but its impact was slight compared with the outrage and controversy caused by Kenneth Tynan’s Oh! Calcutta! Described in the tabloids as ‘The Nudest Show on Earth’, it contained ‘adult material’ and full-frontal nudity. The pro-censorship campaigner and battle-axe for ‘public decency’, Mary Whitehouse, claimed that the arts and the country in general were morally at risk from such a show. More moderate reviewers described it as ‘tasteful pornography for the thinking voyeur’.

We are used to all this today, but fifty years ago such productions were emphatically ground-breaking. No other venue had offered a programme where the works of Shakespeare, in particular, had been so deconstructed and reconstituted, so often violent and disturbingly surreal. They were, too, disrespectfully sandwiched between ear-splitting rock ‘n’roll gigs, where the audience circulated in a fog of cannabis smoke and alcohol.

In 1883, funds ran out and the Roundhouse fell silent. But its third incarnation was at hand: it was bought by a local businessman and remodelled as a performance space. A new wing was added and the underground area housed a ring of practice rooms, recording suites and digital resources. The great, circular main space, the iron columns and the rotunda remained untouched.

main-space-2-smallThe new Roundhouse reopened in 2006. Its programme today is multidisciplinary and multicultural, reflecting every nuance of present day arts. Could this have happened without the almost-twenty years when it was the most controversial venue in London? It had been an icon of cultural change, through the hippy era to punk and post-punk. It spoke to the Free Love movement, to women’s ‘libbers’, civil rights activists, striking miners and black and musicians blasting out subversive music. It shocked and outraged, overturned traditional thinking and blatantly challenged establishment perceptions of what a work of art should be.

Wesker could not have known how comprehensively his vision was to be realised, or with what uninhibited and full-blooded vigour the arts at the Roundhouse were to develop and flourish. He would approve of what his performance arena had become and what it had achieved. The work goes on.

Bettina Harris, Library Support Assistant

SIL Book of the Week – The ‘stuff’ of early modern history

The latest addition to the Routledge Guides to using Historical Sources, Understanding Early Modern Primary Sources has been received into the Shakespeare Institute Library this week. Edited by Laura Sangha and Jonathan Willis, this book is an invaluable resource for the student of early modern history. Every student knows that primary sources are the lifeblood of the historian and without them, as the Introduction clearly states, history would be impossible to write. But where to start?!

understandingFor the student, the array of material ranging from state papers, printed books, literary sources, manuscript letters, diaries, wills and inventories, visual sources such as paintings, buildings, clothing etc. etc. can be daunting, if not overwhelming. The first part of this book offers a practical guide to approaching such sources, providing information on how the material was produced in the first place, how it has been preserved and how it can be accessed. There are pointers as to where to look at original material as well of course as how to access the vast and ever-increasing  digital resources now available. There are hints on the kind of questions to ask when approaching such sources together with case studies and examples.

The second part of the book approaches its subject thematically, examining what kind of sources can be used to explore a range of major themes such as popular culture, political culture, gender, science, warfare, religion and so on.

A must for the student of early modern history as well as the student of Shakespeare who is interested in setting the work of the bard within the wider context of the world in which he lived.

Dr Jill Francis, Library Support Assistant

Shakespeare in 1950s India: Wendy Beavis writes home

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The Shakespeare Institute Library has recently acquired the letters of Wendy Beavis, an actor with the Shakespeareana Company touring India and Pakistan in the 1950s. Run by Geoffrey and Laura Kendal, the company performed in schools, theatres and sometimes the open-air and experienced long, cramped train journeys, basic accommodation and prickly heat as well as staying in palaces, riding on elephants and seeing the Himalayas, together with the camaraderie and petty squabbles of a small touring group of actors.

 

Wendy wrote to her parents in Sutton Coldfield every few days and her letters are full of the everyday experiences of being away from home: trying new food, making her limited money last, dealing with other company members and their foibles but also of the specific problems of a theatre troupe: trying to keep the costumes clean and pressed, coping with inadequate electrical supplies in remote villages, playing to audiences who don’t speak English and the constant shortage of greasepaint which Wendy frequently asks her parents to send her. The searing heat caused the Macbeth witches’ rubber masks to melt and the costumes to be drenched in sweat, monsoon rains flooded the theatre and drummed on the tin roof and, during a performance of Othello, an earthquake caused the audience to stampede from the theatre, endangering Jennifer Bragg (the Kendals’ daughter) who was lying on stage as the dead Desdemona.

Shakespeareana performed a varied repertoire, not just Shakespeare but also Gaslight, The Importance of Being Earnest, Charley’s Aunt and She Stoops to Conquer, here shown in a performance in Simla with Wendy on the far left.

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The company performed for and met many notable people including Prime Minister Nehru, Tensing Norgay, Countess Mountbatten, the Maharajah of Mysore and Gopi Krishna, the famous Kathak dancer.

The main sequence of letters runs from June 1953 when the company set sail on the TSS Jal-Jawahar from England to Bombay (performing several shows on board ship) until October 1956 when Wendy and fellow actor John Day returned on the MS Batory, with her final letter on the 20th ending ‘only another 17 days’. Having told her parents back in March that she would be coming home in the autumn and would be at home for Christmas, by the time she left India the ever-changing Shakespeareana schedule had changed again. The plan then was for the company to tour America and Canada and for Wendy to join them in Antwerp in November for the transatlantic crossing. However this tour never materialised, the company travelled on to Singapore and Malaya and Wendy never rejoined them. How her parents or Wendy herself felt about this we shall never know.

Wendy discussed news from home both domestic and national. She always responded to details in her parents’ letters and constantly asked questions about their garden, her relatives and Candy the cat. She also mentioned the 1955 general election, an outbreak of myxomatosis, a serious crash at Sutton railway station (still Birmingham’s worst rail disaster) and asked ‘How is this commercial T.V. going? Are you getting any better programmes, or is it more irritating?’

One of the common frustrations of reading an archive of letters is that you only get one side of the story.  A rare treasure therefore are two letters written to Wendy in November 1954 which were returned to sender covered in redirections: one from her father and one from her mother. Mrs Beavis went into hospital in 1954 for an operation; it’s clear Wendy worried about her and even offered to come home but we don’t know how much she knew about it or whether her parents withheld the details. Mr Beavis wrote that while his wife was in hospital he has put two coats of paint on the kitchen as a surprise for her and reports she was ‘bucked’ to get a letter from Wendy with snaps and flowers. Mrs Beavis wrote from Ward 2 of the Women’s Hospital and on page 11 of a 16-page letter mostly talking about other people she mentioned she has had a hysterectomy. We know Wendy did not get this letter but we have those she sent her mother in hospital, one enclosing two sprigs of bougainvillea, exotic blooms in Sparkhill, Birmingham.

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Kate Welch, Senior Information Assistant

The Art of Deception: Kurosawa’s ‘The Bad Sleep Well’

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This morning on Twitter a stunning poster of Ran reminded me of my awe and wonder for Kurosawa’s films. Yes, I’ve blogged about Kurosawa before but it struck me that Throne of Blood and Ran get much attention while the marvellous The Bad Sleep Well is less known and less praised. Here’s a short piece about that film which contains moments of pure cinematic genius.

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In his book Theatre of Chaos William Demastes states that ‘Hamlet is like a sponge. Unless produced in a stylized or antiquarian fashion, it immediately absorbs the problems of our time… its philosophical dimensions are as rich and culturally moveable as its political dimensions.’

Kurosawa sets his version of Hamlet in contemporary post-war Japan. During the 20th century Japan transformed from a feudal empire to an industrial super state, and the transition was not a smooth one. When Japan surrendered at the end of the Second World War the emperor declared, “We must endure the unendurable”, and for the first time in their history Japan became an occupied country. Traditional feudal values were repressed by the American occupiers, there were political and economic reforms, democratic institutions were set up. A whole new way of life had to be adopted – some threw themselves into it with a self-destructive force, others, like Kurosawa, approached it carefully, adapted to it and made it their own. He was given the chance to make films about subjects that had never been tackled before – one of them being the social chaos of the post war years. Wartime austerity had been replaced by indulgence and excess. He said:

I wanted to make a film of some social significance. At last I decided to do something about corruption, because it has always seemed to me that graft, bribery, etc, on a public level is the worst crime that there is. These people hide behind the façade of some great organisation like a company or corporation and consequently no one ever really knows how dreadful they are, what awful things they do. Exposing them I thought of as a socially significant act – and so I started the film.

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Kurosawa’s resulting screenplay examines the effect that political decisions can have on the personal, and by association, national psyche – how will the human soul be affected? The Bad Sleep Well shows us a complete warping of traditional values – a sickness brought about by corruption within new and established institutions disturbed by the war. Speaking later he said: ‘Maybe it was because I came from the old samurai class, but even back then I remember hating anything crooked or underhanded’.

Important traditional qualities such as loyalty and honour are manipulated for self-interest. Employees are encouraged to commit suicide in order to save the skins of their superiors. Self-assertion was seen as immoral in pre-war days and self-sacrifice as a sensible course in life. In Kurosawa’s film the old levels of Japanese society, their ways and values are still in place but have been perverted for diabolical ends and a hidden agenda. Nobility and virtue no longer apply in a capitalist environment. Beneath the veneer of duty, ritual and obedience to authority is a wealth of personal trauma. The ‘Hamlet’ character, played by Toshiro Mifune (and by association Kurosawa himself), wishes to explode the facade, and takes on the important responsibility of trying to expose these men who hide behind the mask of respectability and act like gangsters.

the-bad-sleep-well-noirAppropriately, The Bad Sleep Well is photographed like a film noir. This was a style born in America by directors who fled Germany at the start of the Second World War. They used expressionistic techniques, chiaroscuro, angled camera positions, and disturbing cityscapes. This genre of film told stories of people who found it difficult and sometimes impossible to wade through the dark underbelly of their country – characters that are severely tested in their adjustment to civilian life after the war – having fought for justice, they find only corruption, and the fates against them in their own city streets. The noir style fits Kurosawa’s subject. Beautifully photographed in ravishing black and white widescreen, the film flows between the clinical corporate world of offices and meetings to the darkened suburban streets where ersatz ghosts and would-be-killers lurk in shadows, only to disappear in car headlights moments later.

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Japan, like Denmark, is a prison. This feeling of entrapment is cleverly created with Kurosawa’s visual style. The majority of his shots in this film have a symmetrical composition. Characters stand on opposite sides of the screen reflecting each other and framing the action. The actors are often blocked to form converging lines or triangles so that the viewer subliminally feels as though he is being fenced in or pushed into a corner.

The settings also emphasize this eerie claustrophobic aspect with long corridors lit by strips of light, darkened streets lined with fences that block off sight-lines: a police office with horizontal blinds lit from outside creates bars of light across the walls; home interiors of plain walls with bars of wood again creating the idea of being closed in.

 

This film is a myriad of mousetraps, as Nishi tries to expose his father’s murderers and bring down the company. The centre-piece to this film is a breath-taking and extraordinary scene which occurs directly after Nishi has saved Wada, another company pawn, from committing suicide. Wada, who is believed dead by everyone, is forced by Nishi to watch his own funeral. This is Nishi’s incredibly cruel ‘play within the play’ which Wada must endure in order to spur the revenge plot. (The scene is first up in this trailer for the film).

It is a scene that reflects the concerns of the entire film. It is about truth and the juxtaposition of conflicting ideologies, and is completely cinematic – what we see and hear are completely at odds and so the horror of it is accentuated.

Nishi and Wada are in the constricted environment of the car, the windscreen itself acts like a cinema screen, and Nishi produces his own soundtrack – a recording of the corporate villains of the company Dairyu in a nightclub. So, we are watching a film within a film. The soundtrack is completely at odds with what we are watching, thus making it more grotesque. A grieving widow and child unknowingly receive the would-be murderers of the man they have lost. The very traditional funeral mount and the national costumes of the women, place them in traditional Japan – a funeral service for a man who believes in the validity of old values – the belief of which has ironically resulted in his attempted suicide and presumed death. The men from Dairyu, their dark suits representing the corporate world, appear reverential and humble, they pray – their deception in the outside world goes unnoticed. But we hear, with Wada, from their morbid drive-in, the truth. The westernisation of Japan and the corporate identity that the executives represent is echoed in the swinging western music of the night club, we see them bow in reverence but hear them laugh about the man’s death and talk about celebrating his demise with drink and women.

There is a great sense of corruption here, of guilt and the gullibility of innocence and, of course, of betrayal. In Hamlet, those in power act above the law – as in Macbeth they show a face that hides a much darker self.

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Although he is alive, Wada is the ghost at his own funeral. He says, ‘after this I cannot go on living’. The rights have been performed and he is dead in the eyes of the world. Nishi leaves him no option but to join him in his revenge plot. But his role is that of a ghost, a visitor from the grave exposing the crime committed against him. Like Banquo’s ghost he repeatedly appears to his murderer and drives him out of his mind. His would-be murderer is also one of the men indirectly responsible for the death of Nishi’s father. He is left a gibbering wreck and in his madness, acknowledging his guilt, can only utter ‘Forgive me Furuya’.

Sons seeking revenge, corruption, murder for personal gain, madness, appearance versus reality, ghost and mousetraps – they are all here, joined by the pervading theme of deception. Kurosawa succeeds in exposing the corrupt interlocking of business and government in post-war Japan. Nishi’s attempt to impose justice on a world in which justice is absent is futile. As in Ran the chaos that ensues leads to madness and loss.

Karin Brown, Shakespeare Institute Librarian

Many of Kurosawa’s film are available on Box of Broadcasts including:

Ran

Throne of Blood

See the Bfi’s page on Kurosawa vs Shakespeare

The SIL Extraordinary Current Awareness Services

So. I recently paid for my final few months as a research student at the Shakespeare Institute (which, great news, turned out to be less than I thought it was going to be).  I’m nearly done. I just need to get through this final stretch, and I’ll get my officially sanctioned floppy hat.

I am absolutely certain I would not have made it this far without the Current Awareness scheme. As a research student, there are a million demands on your time, and it’s easy to slide out of touch with the latest research when you’re trying to bend the last fifty year’s theory to your will. It often seems to me that there are simply not enough hours in the day to keep abreast of everything going on in Shakespeare studies. And I just have to worry about text; our revolutions are slow tidal waves to the perpetual motion of performance, the never-ending permutations of stage craft, or the kaleidoscope root-scape of theory. If a helpful librarian wasn’t browsing through the new books and journals looking for my key words, I would have had to give up on sleep to get through it all myself.

shakespeares-words-via-flickrBut I am getting ahead of myself; I haven’t even explained what this marvellous scheme is yet. Current Awareness is part of the library service offered by the Shakespeare Institute Library to PhD students. For free. The doctor-to-be sends a list of keywords to the library (silib@bham.ac.uk), and the library staff then read through every new book and periodical that crosses the SIL magnetized threshold, and alerts the researcher when their keywords pop up. To call it time-saving is an understatement in the extreme.

My only regret is that I didn’t know about it until I started working on it as an LSA. I am not aware of any other university libraries offering this service to their students; in Copenhagen, where I did my first degree, the librarians were busy protecting the older, frailer tomes, and pushing carts brimming with books from one part of campus to another, and while I did of course ask the occasional question, it never occurred to me that they could help me with my research.

It may be argued that my enthusiasm for Current Awareness is simply proof that I am not a very good academic: that I need to get better at managing my time – that a researcher who put in the hours could easily transverse the ever-broadening expanse of new material. Fortunately, however, I am not alone in valuing the benefits of this unique service. Here is their praise, in short, twitterific bursts: “That looks great – thanks!”, “Thank you for the recommendations”, “Most helpful, as always”, “Thank you – it sounds ideal”, “Thanks.  This sounds very useful”, “Thanks, that’s very cool!” “Thank you so much for making me aware of this :)”, “Thanks v. much – v helpful”.

And, speaking from the other side of the desk, from the comfort of the LSA chair, such positive feedback makes all the scouring worthwhile.

Truth be told, I enjoy hunting through all the new journals, looking for incredibly specific topics other than my own. It has made me aware in a very direct way of the richness of research being carried out across the world of Shakespeare studies, of the countless new publications that help reinvigorate our field each year, of how my little thread adds to the texture of a tapestry that is as much in our minds as out of them.

Words, words, words.

Sara Marie Westh, Library Support Assistant (and expectant PhD)

SI Old Stager on New Blood & a New Academic Year

Then nightly sings the staring owl.

A time of change is upon us here at the Shakespeare Institute Library.

I know it’s part of the academic year, as sure as the seasons roll on, and a great deal more punctual for that matter. Yet I’m always surprised by it. My inbox is flooded with good advice to new students – the system doesn’t seem capable of differentiating between the new and the continuing learner – who to write, what to write, how to find a housemate, where to file supplications for council tax exemption.

I knew it was coming, and it caught me completely unawares. It always does.

waitingLast Sunday saw the new MA students gather for the welcome tea, and from behind my desk at the Library entrance I hardly noticed. The old academic year has come to an end, and the new one is about to kick off. I haven’t met any of them yet. I haven’t met enough of the old MA’s yet, and they’re leaving this little, little stage, bowing out with Rosalind and Prospero.

It’s strange; the old MA students don’t seem so very old to me, and I find it hard to believe they’ve been here a year. I find it equally hard to believe that even younger students are about to embark on the same journey through Shakespeare scholarship I undertook not that long ago. The whirligig of time brings in more students.

I know they’re here in all their ripeness. I’ve seen a few of them in the library already. At least, I think I’ve seen them. They have the slightly overwhelmed, preoccupied look of people finding their feet on new ground. They pull at doors that should be pushed, and fumble with the card readers. Each of them reminds me a bit of Ferdinand and Viola, looking at the Institute island and trying to decide where they fit into it all.

Perfectly timed to coincide with the hurly-burly of seasonal scholarly change, we have implemented a new loans system across the University of Birmingham Libraries, which should, hopefully, make things run a little smoother all around. Loans will now automatically renew, to be recalled only when someone else requests the book. This will give our patrons the liberty to use our material with the greatest amount of freedom possible, restrained only by the needs of their fellow scholars. To the new students, this will not be a change. To them, this will be the system that always was.

Change is a natural part of the business of learning – when early career scholars are told to publish or perish, this is as much born of the necessity to contribute something preferably measurable to an academic field that often deals with things boundless as the sea, as it expresses the need for movement and for change. The day we stop moving is the day we become a museum. I feel a deep nostalgia for the past year, but I wouldn’t want to relive it.

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I will miss the old ones. I look forward to meeting the new ones.

I was new once, too.

Tu-whit, tu-whoo! – a merry note.

Sara Marie Westh, LSA and PhD student at the Shakespeare Institute

Shakespeare at Abington Park

As a follow-up to my blog in April about a wartime production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream  (https://silibrary1.wordpress.com/2016/04/04/wartime-amateur-theatricals-in-northampton/) last weekend I visited Abington Park in Northampton where it was staged. The church where Shakespeare’s granddaughter, Elizabeth Bernard, was buried was open on Sunday as part of the Heritage Open Days scheme as mentioned in Sylvia Morris’s blog http://theshakespeareblog.com/2016/09/heritage-open-days-2016/.

abington1

St Peter and St Paul Church is a beautiful little church dating back to the twelfth century, built in typical Northamptonshire ironstone.

Elizabeth’s second husband, John Bernard, has a grave stone in the church and, when Elizabeth’s coffin was found in a vault beneath the Lady Chapel, a plaque was placed on the wall nearby.

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The house where John and Elizabeth lived is now the museum next to the church and in the grounds is the mulberry tree planted by David Garrick in 1778 as a cutting allegedly from Shakespeare’s mulberry tree at New Place in Stratford. There is a plaque marking the event and an explanatory sign.

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Kate Welch, Senior Information Assistant