Felicia's Literature & Theatre Blog!

My name's Felicia. I'll be writing stuff I read in my E314J class. :)

Gilman’s “Nora”

To me, Nora just seems a lot more…smart in this version of the play. At least, it’s made much more clearer by the end of Act I that all of her actions thus far have been because she wants to pay off these debts. She’s very good at lying to Terry, as we can see as she lies straight to his face and he sees right through it. But it’s not just to please Terry, it’s so that she can safely and securely pay off this debt on her own time. There is a lot less name-calling (no ‘sqiurrel,’ ‘songbird’, etc.), and generally less fluff, compared to how Nora was constantly trying to put across how perfect their relationship is in the original play. Her role in the household is still traditional, since Terry makes the money and Nora is subservient/dependent to him, but she is certainly not his pet or plaything, which is exactly how Torvald treats Nora in Ibsen’s version. Terry seems to respect Nora for his wife, that is, something closer to an equal and not just another child.

Another thing I found very interesting for Nora is when she discusses with Kristine about how she wants to be more creative, and how she read the book The Artist’s Way. She clearly has ambition and that gives Nora’s character much more depth in this adaptation as opposed to the original play. She has ideas and dreams outside of just her husband and her family, but they seem rather repressed since she writes them off rather casually, mentioning how Dr. Peter called it “bullshit stay-at-home-mom stuff.” Perhaps Gilman emphasizes this so that Nora has more background, and also a valid dream to follow when she goes off on her own at the conclusion of the play.

I would say this is a different character because of these reasons. Both Noras have the same basic personality traits and motivations, but these extra subtleties cause Gilman’s Nora to be more complex, more ambitious and not just a naive little plaything for her husband.

Marat / Sade reflection

I would say the the film adaptation made me reflect much more differently on specific characters as portrayed by the inmates. I actually found Duperret’s character particularly amusing, and Corday’s character much more jarring and abrasive. I also saw Marat much differently while reading the play, for some reason I pictured him delivering his monologues/speeches with much more fervor and boldness, however it was much more solemn and quietly spoken in this adaptation (for the most part). I guess that made Marat seem more, in a way, “mechanic,” similar to how de Sade criticized his killing sprees. Overall, the portrayal of the two philosophers made me agree with de Sade, simply because he seemed like the only sane person on the entire stage. Sade is Sade, and since Sade’s character is not “playing” anyone his arguments seem just that much more rational.

I was sort of dreading the whipping scene, but I was rather off-put to find that Corday simply whipped her hair (back and forth) and de Sade acted out the pain. I also found that they cut out the intermission bit as well as the part where the different public officials address and criticize Marat about his imagination is running far too wild. However, I don’t think that really took away from anything because there was still that Brechtian element of “choosing sides” and Marat did address how society did not encourage an expansive imagination.

I thought the staging was done really well, one of the staging elements that stuck out to me was toward the end when Corday talks about how children play with miniature guillotines. The inmates in the background are in focus during her speech, miming the toys with their hands and miming cutting off their own fingers, seeming very amused by it. I thought that was a nice touch because it makes the inmates seem rather amused by the idea of death and violence being embodied in a child’s plaything. They then appear much more Maratian (?) than Sadist since the idea of violence does not phase them.

Marat/Sade Act I - Sade’s arguments

Here is one excerpt from Sade’s philosophies that I found striking:

“Do you think that those eight [people] would be happy
If each of them could climb so high
and no higher
before banging their heads on equality 
if each could be only a small link
in a long and heavy chain
Do you still think it’s possible
to unite mankind…” (Act I, pp 63-64)

Granted, a lot of what Sade had been saying in the first act was really weird and sadistic (go figure!), but this was an interesting counter-argument to Marat’s urging for equality among classes. Sade says that without the inequalities that come with society, then none of us would be able to succeed, or rather “climb so high” to the best that we can be. This particular excerpt hearkens to the ideas of capitalism versus socialism/communism. It’s not unlike today’s political arguments on whether there should be more government control over the masses so that everyone is provided more benefits or less government control (free markets) so that people have more of an opportunity to succeed. I’m not sure if I completely side with what Sade has to day but he does bring up an interesting point about if everyone becoming completely “equal” is really fair.

source: soyelena’s Tumblr
This is Gareth Snook, a British actor who’s known for playing in famous British stage musicals as well as old BBC series. Just a bit of context because I doubt many people know who he is. I just instantly thought that he would be a perfect Crofts when I saw him in the 25th Anniversary concert of The Phantom of the Opera.
Right off the bat, he pretty closely fits Shaw’s description of Crofts in Mrs. Warren’s Profession. He’s an older man, probably late forties to mid-fifties, but the way his hair is paired with his posh tuxedo makes him rather boyish in style. He also has very sharp features, and a strong jaw as Shaw describe Crofts.
His stare seems a little blank in the picture, as if distracted from reading what’s in his hand, which would initially fit Crofts’ rather passive demeanor when Mrs. Warren is ordering him around. But having that note in his hand, presumably something regarding his business, references what he will tell Vivie about later in the play.

source: soyelena’s Tumblr

This is Gareth Snook, a British actor who’s known for playing in famous British stage musicals as well as old BBC series. Just a bit of context because I doubt many people know who he is. I just instantly thought that he would be a perfect Crofts when I saw him in the 25th Anniversary concert of The Phantom of the Opera.

Right off the bat, he pretty closely fits Shaw’s description of Crofts in Mrs. Warren’s Profession. He’s an older man, probably late forties to mid-fifties, but the way his hair is paired with his posh tuxedo makes him rather boyish in style. He also has very sharp features, and a strong jaw as Shaw describe Crofts.

His stare seems a little blank in the picture, as if distracted from reading what’s in his hand, which would initially fit Crofts’ rather passive demeanor when Mrs. Warren is ordering him around. But having that note in his hand, presumably something regarding his business, references what he will tell Vivie about later in the play.

Mrs. Warren’s Profession “Apology”: Summary

In his “Apology” prefacing his play Mrs Warren’s Profession, George Bernard Shaw believes that the opinions of the press and the authorities can differ vastly from the public opinion. Building on that, he thinks that politics of England habe influenced the “art” of English theatre. His response to this is to fight back with plays that require “brains” instead of “leaving them at home with its prayer-book,” (Shaw 5). He blames the politics behind the theatre that expect a complete taboo as far as social issues that are happening during their time. Shaw condemns these actions of taboos and censorship, and that “evils… [are] inherent in the nature of all censorships,” (Shaw 7). The overall message Shaw is trying to get across is that the politics, political correctness, and censorship of society should be separated from the English theatre. In both this apology and in his play, “Society… is the true villain of the piece,” (Shaw 13).

HAMLET - the spectacular Shakespeare tragedy!

Following the death of his father, the King of Denmark, Prince Hamlet sees an apparition who appears to be none other than the late King himself. He tells Hamlet how he really died: At the hands of his brother Claudius, who is now the reigning King and has married Hamlet’s mother Queen Gertrude. The ghost demands revenge—to have Hamlet kill Claudius. Hamlet agrees to it, but the more he dotes on it the more he seems to doubt himself and the apparition’s true loyalties. Was it really his dead father speaking from beyond the grave? Did Claudius really kill his own brother? Not to mention, Claudius, Gertrude, and their advisor Polonius and his daughter Ophelia, are all more than suspicious of Hamlet’s odd behavior. Is he truly mad? Will Hamlet carry out his father’s last wish to avenge his death? This thrilling tale is not to be missed out on!

A Doll House - in the end…

I actually thought that, in terms of Nora’s character arc, the end of the play was what makes this work so iconic. In the late 19th century this would have been a very controversial ending, but it makes a statement. It’s jarring but it makes the reader realize that it was inevitable. Nora had to leave, otherwise, it would be even more of a tragedy. If she didn’t leave then I would have felt gipped as a reader—why did she make all these sacrifices? For nothing? To keep living this fake life? Nora tried to only see the good in Torvald, and when she realized that there was more bad than good in him by the end of the play, she realized how much she’d been trying to kid herself. She had to leave.

For the most part, I agree with Saari’s claims that Nora is more of “human” than “female,” but what I feel like she didn’t really address was the fact that Nora was confined to the roles of the female gender. She was a caged bird, and even though she has the same capabilities as Torvald or Krogstad, her social classification as a female prevented her from doing them. I would claim that, above all, Ibsen is condemning the social classifications that we give gender, and these restrictions that come with them can actually destroy a household rather than support it.

Normally, when I think of a tragic drama, I think of a Shakespearean tragedy where the protagonist/hero ends up dying due to a “tragic flaw”, usually pride. But I don’t know if it’s that clear-cut in this play. The hero is pretty arguable in this work, because neither Nora nor Torvald have any clear redeeming qualities that make them more noble or worthy than the other characters. But I would take a leap and say that the “tragic flaw” was Torvald’s (almost obsessive) pride for himself and his reputation, prizing it over his own wife and family. If it had not been for this, Nora might not have walked out the door so suddenly. Nora’s departure because of this flaw is what makes it tragic, since we see that their relationship has undoubtedly crumbled from the flaw. They’ve gone from calling each other “sweet” names to having “serious conversations” and saying somber goodbyes.

A Doll House Act II - What is love? (Baby don’t hurt me…)

Nora: But it’s all true, Kristine. You see, Torvald loves me beyond words, and, as he puts it, he’d like to keep me all to himself. For a long time he’d almost be jealous if I even mentioned any of my old friends back home. (p 157)

Nora: Yes—you see, there are some people that one loves most and other people that one would almost prefer being with. (p 166)

Nora: …But you can understand that with Torvald it’s just the same as with Papa— (p 167)

-

Both of these lines from Nora Helmer go hand-in-hand in terms of her idea of what love means. She speaks of choosing and remaining with one person to “love” above all others. Torvald keeping her “all to himself” connotes that Nora (albeit perhaps she doesn’t fully realize this) defines love as one person possessing another. Nora could have made another choice, referring to her “old friends back home,” but once she chooses Torvald she cannot not be with anyone else.

Building off that, the second quote I listed makes Nora believe that falling in love is more of a selection process, that is, she must choose who she “loves most”. To me, this makes Torvald seem like the prizewinner for Nora’s affection since she chose him over the others that she “would almost prefer being with.” It seems very un-romantic based on how she talks about her love for Torvald.

It’s obvious that she does not seem to view this as very intimate or romantic, since she compares her being with Torvald to her father, in the third quote listed. With this comparison, Torvald almost seems like a replacement for her father, caring for her and providing for her but not necessarily performing exclusively “husbandly” duties, such as those of passion or romance, etc. 

Image credit: nymag.com
First of all, as a film student, I was really excited when I saw this prompt. I live for creating dream casts for my favorite books!
But, back to my casting idea for Prospero. Now, it might be because Michael Emerson is most known for playing a manipulative leader on a deserted island (re: Benjamin Linus from Lost), but this picture immediately made me realize he would be a great fit for the role Prospero. Particularly in this photo, is expression is somewhat foreboding and mysterious. The backlighting halo effect also gives him this sense of power and control, though we’re not sure exactly what kind of power he holds. In Lost, his character Ben is the leader of the “Others” that have established their residence on the island for many years, and he manipulates both his people and the newcomers of the island, always having something up his sleeve. But, Ben as a character is quite ambiguous at times, so despite some of his cruel acts, it’s still hard to tell where his loyalties lie throughout the series. Aside from this infamous role, Emerson is also known for playing characters with dark pasts (see: William Hinks in The Practice).

Image credit: nymag.com

First of all, as a film student, I was really excited when I saw this prompt. I live for creating dream casts for my favorite books!

But, back to my casting idea for Prospero. Now, it might be because Michael Emerson is most known for playing a manipulative leader on a deserted island (re: Benjamin Linus from Lost), but this picture immediately made me realize he would be a great fit for the role Prospero. Particularly in this photo, is expression is somewhat foreboding and mysterious. The backlighting halo effect also gives him this sense of power and control, though we’re not sure exactly what kind of power he holds. In Lost, his character Ben is the leader of the “Others” that have established their residence on the island for many years, and he manipulates both his people and the newcomers of the island, always having something up his sleeve. But, Ben as a character is quite ambiguous at times, so despite some of his cruel acts, it’s still hard to tell where his loyalties lie throughout the series. Aside from this infamous role, Emerson is also known for playing characters with dark pasts (see: William Hinks in The Practice).

Prospero: the tempest of the play? (Act II-III discussion)

Shakespeare does an incredible job of creating a distinct voice for Prospero with certain characteristics and how he acts towards other characters, especially Caliban, Miranda and Ariel.

Prospero is essentially the eye of the storm. His magic essentially propels the story, that is, he would not be able to exact revenge. It seems that he is not aware of this fact since he will go to all costs to exact revenge on his brother Antonio. He’s willing to use and manipulate any of his three minions. We can see this from his first few lines (p 7 lines 13-14) he is barking orders at his only daughter, to “Be collected, no more amazement”, and even perhaps belittling her for her “piteous heart.” Upon studying of his other lines, especially during the first act, the majority of his lines are long monologues talking about his past and how his brother betrayed him. This must mean he loves to hear the sound of his own voice, at the very least. After all, in so many of his lines he constantly uses “I” or “me” if he’s not busy giving orders to Ariel or Caliban. He loves to talk about “his” spirits as if he has ownership of them. Fo example, he refers to the goddess-like spirits he conjures in Act IV, scene i “by mine art I have from their confines called” (p 60, lines 120-121) for his (or, as he says, for honoring Ferdinand and Miranda’s engagement) own pleasure. My prediction is that his self-delusion and dependence on his magic will be his Achilles’ heel in this plot. Perhaps his plan with backfire altogether!?

Also, another observation: Obviously, Prospero is not afraid to praise his own work. He could definitely be considered as a foil character to Miranda, who’s constantly being modest and how (also in Act IV, scene i, lines 10-11) both Ferdidand and Prospero agree that she will always “outstrip all praise and make it halt behind her.”