“Mona Lisa“ (c.1504)
___________
not liking Beethoven is not an option, it’s
like saying you don’t like Shakespeare,
or the “Mona Lisa“, or Paris, there’s too
much there to not not like, you either
don’t know them, haven’t even a clue,
or you’ve a very good reason for your
disfavour, which you are expected then,
and with great authority, to explicate
which is to say, however, that not liking
Beethoven, but for valid reasons, is a
sign of a sharpened, rather, intellect,
something that no one, I suspect,
would want to eschew – Gesundheit
in his Late Quartets, Beethoven can be
demanding, and not especially convincing
sometimes in his musical argument, let me
stress the word “argument” here, a notably
Beethovenian consideration, the last
movement of his 13th String Quartet, for
instance, his famous “Große Fuge“*, has
him verily in a rage
for me, the same objections apply to the
13th as those I accused him of in his 12th
String Quartet, a display of uncoordinated
pieces, like food stands at public markets,
apples, however delicious, oranges,
however juicy, pomegranates, however
exotic, varieties of fish, meat, cheeses,
tempting desserts, but where I come out
with just the basil that I wanted in the first
place for being overwhelmed, wondering,
wow, all that Sturm und Drang, but what
just happened
what do you think
R ! chard
* do not not click, this is totally
transcendental, you’ll verily
learn how to read music
“Medea“ (1898)
____________
catching up on my Greek tragedies
for a course I’m following online, I
happened upon this marvel
Medea, by Euripides, was written
in 431 BCE, the next significant
playwright in world history was
Shakespeare, the Dark Ages had
been “Dark” indeed, it took a
Renaissance, in fact a new
flowering of Greek and Roman
arts and institutions to get us
moving forward again, you’ll
notice how much of Euripides
there is in Shakespeare, not to
mention in the French Classicists,
Racine and Corneille
none of these, incidentally, have
yet been equalled, never mind
surpassed, except by maybe
Anton Checkov, the superb
Russian playwright
Zoe Caldwell won the 1982 Tony
Award for best actress for her
incarnation of Medea, she was
up against Katharine Hepburn
and Geraldine Page, no less,
among other distinguished
luminaries, this is, in other
words, no ordinary performance,
watch her turn a mere script,
however incandescent, into a
set of spoken arias worthy of
the most celebrated divas
everyone else in the play is also
strong, excellent, impeccable
note the application of the three
unities, of time, place, and action,
there is no set change, everything
takes place within 24 hours,
according to the dictates of the
very plot, the action surrounds
the expulsion from Corinth of
Medea and her two, and Jason’s,
sons, the restrictions of the form
put the tension, the drama, utterly
in the hands of the poet, the
success of the work depends not
on stunts, special effects, but on
words, poetry
Aristotle says in his “Poetics“,
section I, part VI, “The Spectacle has, indeed, an
emotional attraction of its own, but, of all the parts,
it is the least artistic, and connected least with the
art of poetry. … Besides, the production of
spectacular effects depends more on the art
of the stage machinist than on that of the poet.”
the three unities have no room,
therefore, for “Spectacle“, their
product must be reflections of
the poet’s humanity, heart,
straight through, if s/he can,
to ours
Richard
“Aristotle” (1653)
___________
so what’s a poem
in an attempt to get a clearer picture
of what a poem should be, rather
than trust only my own, however
informed perhaps, opinion – though
it must be added that we all bring
something to that word’s definition,
mine no less worthy than yours,
yours no less worthy than mine – I
thought I’d go back to authoritative
sources to see what they might
have said
and it doesn’t get any earlier and
authoritative than Aristotle, writing
in 350 B.C.E., at the height of
Ancient Greek preeminence,
dissecting the term in his
penetrating and perspicacious,
ahem, “Poetics”
“I propose to treat of Poetry in itself and of its various kinds,
noting the essential quality of each, to inquire into the
structure of the plot as requisite to a good poem; into the
number and nature of the parts of which a poem is
composed; and similarly into whatever else falls within
the same inquiry.“, he says in Part 1 of his
magisterial treatise
and proceeds to declare the parameters
of “Poetry” for the ages
“Poetry in general seems to have sprung from two causes“,
he proceeds, imitation and rhythm
by imitation I think it best to think of
representation, which is another way,
anyway, of saying imitation, but
much more evocative in this instance,
more attuned to our sense of his word
a poem is a representation then, a
reproduction of something other than
itself
while its rhythm is what George
Gershwin‘s got, and by extension, as
you can see from this video, Gene Kelly
and yes, that means that “Epic poetry and Tragedy, Comedy also
and Dithyrambic poetry, and the music of the flute and of the lyre in
most of their forms, are all in their general conception modes of
imitation.”
so, according to Aristotle, is dance
all, therefore, poems
an interesting elaboration about “Tragedy”
states that it should have the three unities
that I grew up with during my French
Canadian upbringing, the unity of time, of
space, and of action the famous French
Classical dramatists, Racine and Corneille,
applied under the aegis of Louis XlV
not to mention “Tragedy’s“ use of iambic
pentameter, Shakespeare’s ubiquitous
beat, a beat that persevered into the very
Nineteenth Century, in France with
Rostand‘s “Cyrano de Bergerac“, for
instance, and into the Twentieth Century
with Eliot‘s “Murder in the Cathedral“,
about the assassination of Archbishop
Thomas Becket at Canterbury in 1170
under Henry the Second‘s own aegis,
all written as poetry
the most famous play to follow the
three unities in the modern era is
“Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?“,
the play which I think defines the
Twentieth Century, which takes
place overnight somewhere in a
New England college town, mid-
century, at George and Martha’s
though followed closely by O’Neill‘s
“Long Day’s Journey int Night“,
which transpires from morning, one
day in August, 1912, till midnight, at
the home of, unity of space, note,
the dysfunctional Tyrones
so it appears not much has changed
about poetry, Aristotle got a lot of
mileage out of his early definition,
nearly 2500 years
makes you wonder why so much
attention was paid instead to
Plato, his contemporary, the
mystic, who would’ve banned
poetry, he thought it was
subversive
Richard
psst: for a modern day application
of the three unities, watch
“In Treatment“, a television
series, which takes place
in a psychotherapist’s office,
each episode a session,
“A Table of Desserts“ (1640)
_________
“Still Life after Jan Davidsz. de Heem’s ‘La desserte’” (1915)
________
if Siudmak was a little too much like
Rousseau for my taste, then what
Matisse does to de Heem is just
right, though the blueprint is
identical the outcome is starkly
different and individual, Matisse
is evidently his own man
directors will do the same with
Shakespeare, for instance, or
Verdi, when they alter, or update,
the work’s time frame, giving it
more immediacy, a new life
not always however effectively,
we saw a Figaro in Dresden come
in on a motorcycle, we walked out
after the first act, though not
before my mom had fallen asleep
during the torpid arias
whose table of desserts above
would you like
Richard
the poetic dramatic monologue, which finds
its popular source in Shakespeare, though
they are essentially introspective there,
philosophical rather than strictly narrative,
making them nevertheless, in a play, by
definition, dramatic, rightful claimants
still to that name, and which was
institutionalized as a poetic form by
Robert Browning later in the XlXth Century,
by upending the Shakespearean mode,
turning poems into plays instead of plays
into poems, makes its way into the XXth
Century, probably mostly unobtrusively,
no one really particularly notices, but
powerfully culturally nonetheless when
applied to, for instance, music, which is
to say poetry, of course, with notes
here’s “Bohemian Rhapsody”*, an abridged
version, as sung by Rose Osang Fostanes,
delivering a classic dramatic monologue
here’s Freddy Mercury’s complete version,
with a Greek chorus supplying oracular
even feedback
Richard
* Bohemian Rhapsody
Is this the real life?
Is this just fantasy?
Caught in a landslide,
No escape from reality.
Open your eyes,
Look up to the skies and see,
I’m just a poor boy, I need no sympathy,
Because I’m easy come, easy go,
Little high, little low,
Anyway the wind blows doesn’t really matter to me, to me.
Mama, just killed a man,
Put a gun against his head,
Pulled my trigger, now he’s dead.
Mama, life had just begun,
But now I’ve gone and thrown it all away.
Mama, ooh,
Didn’t mean to make you cry,
If I’m not back again this time tomorrow,
Carry on, carry on as if nothing really matters.
Too late, my time has come,
Sends shivers down my spine,
Body’s aching all the time.
Goodbye, everybody, I’ve got to go,
Gotta leave you all behind and face the truth.
Mama, ooh (anyway the wind blows),
I don’t wanna die,
I sometimes wish I’d never been born at all.
I see a little silhouetto of a man,
Scaramouche, Scaramouche, will you do the Fandango?
Thunderbolt and lightning,
Very, very frightening me.
(Galileo) Galileo.
(Galileo) Galileo,
Galileo Figaro
Magnifico.
I’m just a poor boy and nobody loves me.
He’s just a poor boy from a poor family,
Spare him his life from this monstrosity.
Easy come, easy go, will you let me go?
Bismillah! No, we will not let you go. (Let him go!)
Bismillah! We will not let you go. (Let him go!)
Bismillah! We will not let you go. (Let me go!)
Will not let you go. (Let me go!)
Never, never let you go
Never let me go, oh.
No, no, no, no, no, no, no.
Oh, mama mia, mama mia (Mama mia, let me go.)
Beelzebub has a devil put aside for me, for me, for me.
So you think you can stone me and spit in my eye?
So you think you can love me and leave me to die?
Oh, baby, can’t do this to me, baby,
Just gotta get out, just gotta get right outta here.
(Oh, yeah, oh yeah)
Nothing really matters,
Anyone can see,
Nothing really matters,
Nothing really matters to me.
Anyway the wind blows.