Queering Shakespeare

Any interpretation of Shakespeare's canon will inevitably be, at least in some small way, unique. And with plays that have been in circulation as long as Shakespeare's have, interpretations will evolve and transform in relation to the circumstances of their staging; staging choices that would seem natural to an Elizabethan audience will change utterly for a 21st century production, and sociopolitical phenomena at the time of the performance will influence the symbology on the stage. The choices made by directors and actors speak both to their personal opinions about the play and to the nature of the society contextualizing the production.

One of the most recent large-scale productions of Coriolanus had its run in London, headed by director Josie Rourke and the Donmar Warehouse. The play starred Tom Hiddleston in the titular role, with an equally strong cast to back up his fantastic performance. The production, which aired a filmed live performance in cinemas around the world, does an incredible job of melding the world of the play with the political and aesthetic context of modern London, and makes a number of choices that feel simultaneously congruent with the source material and the world outside the theater.

A good example of this melding of influences is the dynamic between Coriolanus and Aufidius, particularly the scene depicting Coriolanus' arrival at Aufidius' home and the ensuing formation of an alliance. Even to the play's original audience, the homoerotic undertones (arguably overtones) between the two characters would have been hard to miss; their conversations are littered with innuendo and passionate declarations of a hybrid of love and hate. Their relationship is integral to the story, and Shakespeare, apart from a few wry nods to sexuality, treats their feelings for one another with earnest attention.

Rourke's production embraces this textual dynamic and runs with it, emphasizing the two men's simultaneous loathing and admiration of one another with impassioned delivery and overlong stares across the stage. Two moments typify the production's treatment of the relationship, and both are markedly physical; the first is a long moment of eroticized asphyxiation during a battle early in the play, and the second is a kiss in the middle of Aufidius' monologue accepting Coriolanus as an ally.

It's unlikely that earlier productions of Coriolanus would have added such a blatant physical dimension to this already homoerotic relationship, particularly one where the interactions have clear sexual connotations. However, nothing in the text precludes the possibility of physicality between the two characters, even the kind of sensual intimacy evident in their kiss; this production simply happens to have been directed in a cultural moment where the exploration of a queered dynamic is not just acceptable, but topical.

Much of the enduring magic of Shakespeare's body of work comes in the plays' ability to morph to suit the social atmosphere in which they are performed. The text is malleable; Coriolanus and Aufidius can exist both in ancient Rome and in the 21st century, and the latter can permit them a little more freedom to outdo Aufidius' memories of his bedchamber.

Keeping Up With Volumnia

For some odd reason, us, as humans, are either obsessed with out mothers, or we hate them. More specifically, mother’s in fiction/pop culture. Psycho, Medea, Mommy Dearest, Gypsy; the list goes on and on. In Shakespeare’s ‘Coriolanus’, Volumnia is the mother of the war hero, Caius Marcius. She is constantly pushing her son to be better, to do the things she only wishes she could do. Volumnia revels in her son’s victories and his scars. She’s the ultimate mom-ager. 

Sound familiar?

In our modern-day society, Kris Jenner would be Volumnia. Kris tried (and failed) to create a music career in the early eighties (cue the not-hit song ‘I Love My Friends’, which Jenner claims was just a ‘joke amongst friends’), and when she failed, she projected her dreams and desires onto her children. 

There are a lot of differences between Volumnia and Kris. For example, Volumnia was blocked from her dreams of power by her gender and the era she lived in, whereas Kris’s gender is not prohibiting her from acting out her desires. Volumnia’s relationship with her daughter-in-law is turbulent, whereas Kris is head-over-heels in love with Kanye. Kris is infamous for causing fights between Kim and other celebrities, most of them old friends, while Volumnia begs her son not to fight the city he once called home.

This is super interesting to me for many reasons. On one hand, it goes to show you that Shakespeare is the father of every plot device known to man, real or not real. (You can thank him for Lion King) Practically every movie deals with plot devices ‘fathered’ by Good Ol’ Willy. On another hand, it’s pretty freakin’ cool how people never change. Mother’s like Volumnia still exist to this day. We see it in Kris Jenner, we see it in Dance Moms, we see it everywhere!

Power Dynamics: Physical Strength and Political Strength the Same?

We see a lot of different power dynamics in Coriolanus, most notably the power dynamic between Coriolanus himself and his mother, Volumnia. Volumnia seems to have the most pull with Coriolanus out of anyone in the play, which makes sense. She raised him to be a formidable warrior and conditioned him to be politically appealing. There’s the rub though, Coriolanus seems only to be appealing politically, which brings me to the question… while Coriolanus has the physical strength to bear the scars of battle, does he have the psychological and emotional might and stability required to be a true ruler of the masses?

            My answer: no, he really doesn’t.

            So what’s happening here, if Volumnia has been able to raise such a physically strong warrior only to ultimately fall short in raising him to have the capacity to run a government swiftly and efficiently? I believe that it comes right down to the simple fact that Volumnia was so busy grooming her son to be a warrior and that strength is the ultimate ruler that when it came time for him to take a true political position, he depended so much on her that he couldn’t really do it. Instead, he failed and got stabbed. Who didn’t get stabbed though? Volumnia. The loss of her son gave her the chance to rise up to power and take care of things like should have been done in the first place.

            Is this saying something about the power dynamics of men and women in general? Is Shakespeare trying to advocate for women in power, setting forth the idea that while men might be physically stronger in some instances, that women have the capacity to pull the strings and actually run a government? It certainly does seem revolutionary, even in today’s society…

Coriolanus (2011) Film Review

I am pleased to report that the latest film adaptation of Coriolanus is AWESOME. When I found it on Netflix, I was immediately intrigued by the cast: Gerard Butler, Jessica Chastain, and Vanessa Redgrave as the big names. But then I watched the trailer… and I was a little skeptical. Despite my reservations of the modern militia focus mixed with the Shakespeare speech, I committed to watching the two-hour adaptation. And I was pleasantly surprised. First of all, Jessica Chastain’s Virgilia was perfect. Yes, she was a weepy mess but Chastain pulled it off in a way that made Virgilia a likable and sympathetic character. Vanessa Redgrave, as Volumnia, was even more perfect. Her costumes were femininely commanding and she gave off a really powerful vibe by towering over everyone. One of the best additions in the film was a scene in which Volumnia (Redgrave) dresses Martius’s (Fiennes) wounds in the bathroom. He’s shirtless and vulnerable, she’s standing over and dressing him, and there’s all this awkward sexual tension. Virgilia actually walks into the bathroom, sees them, and abruptly walks back out. This scene was directed perfectly, and shed light on the underlying mommy-issues that plague Martius. Speaking of Martius’s issues, Fiennes and Butler nail the bromance dynamic. In the final scene, Aufidius actually kills Martius, pulling him close and stabbing him in the gut in an overtly sexual and remarkably tender way.

What I appreciated most about this adaptation was the commitment to the original lines/staging aspects. Although some parts of scenes were left out, I didn’t feel cheated of anything important. And they did a tasteful job of addressing Martius's underlying issues involving his mother and Aufidius. The way Fiennes played out these issues actually made him a pretty sympathetic character. I was put off by the modern setting at first, but I quickly grew to appreciate it. The style created an effect of timelessness. Similarly, the issues addressed in the play are still entirely relevant: war, poverty, cheated citizens, and crooked politicians. I definitely recommend the movie to anyone who hasn't seen it yet!

Bonus: here’s a picture of Martius and Aufidius in the heat of the moment

A Tragic UFO (Unidentified Formidable Offspring)

The battle scene in Shakespeare’s The Tragedy of Coriolanus where Coriolanus fights through the city of Corioles and emerges bloody and wounded reminds me of the film Alien vs. Predator (2004) in relation to his "second birth." In the film, a group of archaeologists investigate a mysterious heat signature coming from under an abandoned whaling post. The explorers discover a large undersea pyramid containing large amounts of warmth, symbolizing the womb with dynamics similar to Shakespeare’s work. For example, once in the pyramid, the explorers attempt to penetrate deeper into the structure but encounter a confusing series of tunnels that open and close without warning. This is similar to the gates of Corioles in that the citizens open the gates only to trap Coriolanus as he invades the city. When Lartius urges Coriolanus to give up the fight, Coriolanus replies, “My work hath yet not warmed me” (1.5.18). He desires to fight through the searing battle to win victory and honor much like the movie’s characters search relentlessly for the source of warmth itself. At the conclusion of the battle, the city of Corioles as a womb “gives birth” to a victorious Coriolanus through its gates much like the fiery expulsion of the archaeologists out of the pyramid through a long, narrow passageway (birth canal).

            Another similarity between the works deals with situational gender roles. In Shakespeare’s play, Coriolanus finds himself conflicted between the interests of Volumnia and Aufidius, trusting them both and experiencing betrayal. Similarly, the explorers discover that the goal of their mission conflicts with the goals of the aliens and predators. In the end, the massive, masculinized queen of the aliens (Volumnia) confronts the central predator warrior (Aufidius). In any case, though, whether Volumnia actualizes her goals as an influential mother or Aufidius realizes his ends, Coriolanus loses. Ironically, the motto of the movie reads, “Whoever wins, we lose,” referring to the similarly precarious circumstances of the explorers and humanity in general as it is represented in the small yet diverse group. In my opinion, the movie emphasizes the influential power of Volumnia by showing the awe-inspiring power of her breaking free of her longstanding chains (her limited role in society as a woman) to finally have a chance to make meaningful change in a male-dominated society. Yet the closing camera shot shows the queen sinking beyond sight into the black abyss of the Antarctic Ocean, demonstrating that Volumnia will ultimately sink under the influence of the preferred gender roles of patriarchal Rome where men expect women to stay out of the public eye. Though the Roman citizens declare Volumnia to be a hero because of her role in Coriolanus’s return, she ultimately returns home defeated in a sense, for she is unable to alter Coriolanus’s final fate. What does everyone else think?

Happy Father's Day, Volumnia?

 In recent years through social media as the third Sunday rolls around in June, I have seen a rise in the trend to wish single mother’s ‘Happy Father’s Day’. As this seems to be a relatively new phenomena, the question arises, is it appropriate to wish single mothers, ‘Happy Father’s Day’? I’ve seen both sides of the debate. One single mother’s post I read regarding this new way in giving thanks reads, “Please DO NOT Wish Me A Happy Father's Day...A Note To Single Moms Holding It Down Alone.” Her argument, no matter how affective the mother’s ability is to take on both parenting roles, or make up for the lack of one; she is not her son’s father. Another woman who takes a similar stance claims, “Misdirecting a day dedicated to our men overlooks the foundation laid by good fathers,” she feels that in by doing this, it is taking a way a special day to honor, well, honorable fathers. On the other hand, a young woman, who grew up in single-mother home and is now a single-mother herself writes, “So thank you to every Mother who has raised their children without a partner. You are truly an inspiration. Happy Father’s Day to you.” Her argument claims that it can be a very lonely and looming day for those who have to live without.

So what would Volumnia’s stance be on the issue? Would she prefer to only be honored as the strong mother on Mother’s Day, or would she relish on being honored on both days? 

A missing parent is a common element among Shakespeare’s plays, and many of his single parents, play the roll, either mother or father, to the extreme, Volumnia’s parenting approach can be considered the “fatherly-motherly” approach. “When yet he was tenderbodied and the only son of my womb, when … a mother should not sell him an hour from her beholding, I, considering how honour would become such a person … was pleased to let him seek danger where he was like to find fame. To a cruel war I sent him” (1.3). Volumnia rejects the role of playing the over-protective mother, sending her young son, knowingly, to a violent war. She finds pleasure in her son’s battle wounds, where most mothers would feel the need to nurture in the situation. Volumnia has raised Coriolanus in dominant, masculine, and stereotypical paternal ways, it is his maternal bonds that hold him captive to her commands. At the same time, Volumnia is sure to utilize her maternal rights to maintain more leverage over Coriolanus, “Trust to't, thou shalt not--on thy mother's womb, That brought thee to this world” (5.3). I think Volumnia would be more content to be honored on a day set a side, just for her, and her alone.