pumpkinstrokemarrow

Along the way, I was reminded that in the olden days clerks were clerical. That is to say that the clerks employed by kings and great lords to run their affairs while they were out at hunt, tourney or crusade, were drawn from the ranks of the clergy, known collectively as clerks. I suppose it helped that the church trained its people to read and write. Also that it did not allow its people to marry, which meant that while they might have loyalty to pope and family, they did not usually have children of their own to provide for out of their employers' funds. A bit like the eunuchs employed in the same way in parts east.

And so onto Troilus and Cressida. Shrink wrapped in the sense that as well as the performance at the Globe, we got a lecture put on afterwards by the Pyschoanalytic Society (http://www.psychoanalysis.org.uk/), to tell us all about it. Or at least something about it. Did more preparation than usual for the occasion, much helped by the Arden text reported on some weeks ago. Maybe as a result, much taken with the play, despite various failings in this production of it. Plenty there for us, despite the 400 odd years since its composition.

Flaky start, but the thing warmed up quite quickly. Cressida of unexpected demeanour, but one did warm to her. And she could convey the charge and power of her moments of climax, despite some of these last being obscured by period music. Paris fat and ridiculous. Helen weak. Couldn't see anyone going to war for her, despite the Trojan claim that the quarrel was the thing, not the excuse for the quarrel. Collectively, few of the lords were lordly. Something I have complained about in bardic productions before. I don't want my lords to behave like something out of East Enders. I believe in a day when lords had to strut, pose and have a bit of dignity. Some of the lords managed strutting; few of them managed dignity. Something which I recall which as coming more naturally to the subcontinental cast of Midsummer's Night Dream at the Roundhouse. Thersites given much space, some invented, including stealing the prologue, and generally played for laughs. Bit of a pain but a good guy. Along with our failure to be lordly, there seems to be a failure or inability to take things seriously. We will not take a stand for fear of it being deconstructed or made to look pompous or otherwise ridiculous. So we play Thesites for laughs, rather than going for the more frightening spectacle of his being thoroughly unpleasant, tainting and spoiling everything he touches.

The cast worked the stage and spent much time well to the front. Which meant for me that I could only hear what they were saying when they were pointing in my direction.

Amongst other things, we were told in the lecture that the murder of Hector by Achilles was a fairly transparent reference to the execution of Essex by Elizabeth. Which meant that the thing could not be performed in public, if at all, for hundreds of years. But it was published, so did not that amount to the same thing as far as the censors were concerned? Must enquire further.

When I first read of the murder of Hector I was rather shocked. And in the performance yesterday I was shocked. This was not how one hero is supposed to kill another. But then, this morning, I had another thought. If Hector was the big cheese of Troy and the idea was to sack Troy, Hector had to be killed. Not appropriate to be squeamish about how it was done. But perhaps that is part of the what the play is about: when is it appropriate to be squeamish about the means and never mind the ends? Where does honour lie?