Poldark Redux

I was a college student when I was first introduced to Ross Poldark, as played by the wonderful Robin Ellis, and in the days long before DVR or even VHS tapes, I made sure I was in front of that television every Sunday night to watch Masterpiece Theatre's romantic saga set in Cornwall. When the first series ended, I plunged into the books by Winston Graham (all 12 of them!) and read them in order, following the loves and losses of Ross, Demelza and their children.

When I heard there was to be a new Poldark airing on Masterpiece, I was ambivalent--part of me was thrilled at the idea of visiting with those characters again, but another part of me wondered if anyone could live up to Robin Ellis and Angharad Rees as the main characters. I'm happy to report that I am enthralled with the new series. Its visuals are stunning, the score is lovely, and the acting is fine. And okay, Aidan Turner is mighty easy on the eyes:

Watching this series had made me miss the original though, and given me an even stronger hankering for a long overdue visit to Cornwall. . .

Best. Gift. Ever. (2011)

It's no coincidence that this year's Best Gift Ever is a book. (As was last year's.) This Christmas, my dear friend and colleague Marie presented me with the following:

P.D. James, widely considered the greatest living mystery author, is second only to Dorothy Sayers in my personal pantheon of mystery greats. Best known for her series featuring Adam Dalgliesh, James' work is literate and complex, but she still tells a darn good story. The same can be said of Jane Austen, whom James calls "overwhelmingly my favorite writer" in an October interview. James, who has made allusions to Persuasion in two of the recent Dalgliesh novels, had long wanted to create a work that incorporates her two passions: Jane Austen and the classic detective novel.

As someone who reveres both writers, the combination of James and Austen is irresistible. What is even better is that I had somehow missed all the press around this book, so when I opened my friend's gift, I let out a giant shriek of surprise and joy. (Even in my geekiest fantasies, I couldn't have come up with P.D. James writing a mystery sequel to Pride and Prejudice.)

I have already sped through the book once, but plan a second read for savoring. Though James' Elizabeth lacks the original character's archness (and most of her wit, sad to say) her Darcy is thoughtful, brooding, and self-aware. James provides him with a rich inner life that accurately reflects Austen's version of her most enigmatic hero, and it makes the reader long for a Lizzie that is worthy of him.

But where James really shines is in her portrayal of the secondary characters, in particular Mr. Bennett, who shows up unannounced at Pemberley just to read in its magnificent library, and Lady Catherine de Bourgh, who says of herself, "If I went to all the people who would benefit from my advice I would never be at home." Lots of Austen favorites make cameo appearances, and there are sly references to both Persuasion and Emma.

It's a truth universally acknowledged that there can never be enough Jane Austen; what a pleasure to read a sequel from the hands of one who is worthy of her.

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Shakespeare at the Movies: Twelfth Night

                                                                                               There are many things to love about this interpretation of Twelfth Night--Trevor Nunn's direction, the kick-ass British cast,  the lush, evocative sets and scenery, and the innovative costume design. Nunn cleverly frames the film with the shipwreck that Shakespeare only alludes to (director John Madden does something similar in Shakespeare in Love, but more about that in a forthcoming post!) and sets the twins up as entertainers who often work in drag. Thus Viola comes ashore in Illyria dragging a chest containing her men's clothes and a handy fake mustache, a situation pretty much unaddressed in the original play. Three performances stand out for me: Toby Stephens lends the self-involved Orlando a warm humanity, and he is lovely to look at as well. Ben Kingsley makes a sharp-witted and observant Fool, who watches from the wings while insanity breaks out all around him. He also does a terrific job interpreting the songs from the play, specifically "Come Away, Come Away Death." ( You can see it here.) But Imogen Stubbs may just be the best Viola I've ever seen. Spunky, witty, and brave, her Viola is alternately heartbreaking and hilarious as she falls deeply in love with a guy who thinks she's a boy. Her scenes with Stephens have a wonderful chemistry, and it's easy to see why Helena Bonham-Carter (as Olivia) falls in love with her. The supporting cast is terrific, filled with lots of faces familiar from the BBC and other costume dramas. I particularly like Richard E. Grant as Sir Andrew, who gives the typically flat character fully human dimensions. Best of all, the actor who plays Sebastian, Steven Mackintosh, looks enough like Stubbs that you don't have to strain your disbelief too much when one is confused for the other. But hey, that's half the fun, isn't it?

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Adapting Shakespeare, Part II

In many ways, Shakespeare’s plays ask essential questions about what it means to be human. In the comedies, many of those questions have to do with love, and while the plays are funny, their themes are decidedly serious. A Midsummer Night’s Dream, for example, asks if love is really just an illusion. Twelfth Night raises questions about the meaning of gender, the limits of faithfulness, and the places our journeys take us. In the comedies, it is often his female characters who struggle with such issues; they are fully realized women, and I have come to think of a couple of them as friends. Much Ado about Nothing, on which I based my first novel, features my favorite Shakespearean heroine. To me, the question in that play is rooted in Beatrice’s experience:

what happens when a seriously smart woman, chafing under the conventions of her time and station in life, meets her intellectual match in a man she claims to hate? Kate, of The Taming of the Shrew, lacks Beatrice’s “merry heart,” but shares her intellectual gifts. Unlike Beatrice, who uses humor to mitigate her situation, Kate has a white hot core of anger—but it’s an anger borne of loneliness. While it’s easy to write Kate off as a shrew, Shakespeare doesn’t give us a one-dimensional character, but a frustrated woman who resents living in the shadow of her younger, prettier, and much more compliant and conventional sister. So I asked myself: what would happen to a Kate or Beatrice or Viola in a modern setting with modern problems? Strangely enough, it’s pretty much what happened to the heroines of several centuries years ago. They struggle with finding their identities as women. They have anger with few outlets for it. Sometimes they fall in love with men who don’t deserve them. Sometimes they fall in love with men who do. And just as in real life, all of them are different people in Act Five than they were in Act One. I teach my students a simple formula about Shakespeare’s comedies and tragedies: in the tragedies, people die. In the comedies, people get married. And while I don’t marry my heroines off, I do give them what they deserve—a happy ending.

Adapting Shakespeare, Part I

There are some stories we just never tire of hearing. Their characters seem like old friends, and we know exactly how they will end. As an avid reader of literary updates, sequels, prequels and pastiches, it seemed a natural choice for me to write one of my own. And for better or for worse, I chose to adapt the material of the biggest guy in the literary room: William Shakespeare, widely considered an inveterate stealer of plots himself. Shakespeare’s comedies and their many conventions—mistaken identity, false love versus true, controlling parents, the find love/lose love/get love back narrative—actually have their roots in early Roman plays. When it comes to romantic comedy, there really hasn’t been anything new in a couple of thousand years. Though Shakespeare is accused of stealing plots, he was actually adapting much older stories for his contemporary audience, using recognizable and well-loved conventions that he knew his audience fully expected; it’s a practice writers and filmmakers still employ today. In fact, you could say there’s a pretty straight line from Much Ado about Nothing to When Harry Met Sally. When I set out to adapt my four favorite  Shakespeare comedies, Much Ado about Nothing, The Taming of the Shrew, Twelfth Night, and A Midsummer Night’s Dream, I strove to create fresh material while staying faithful to the definitive elements of the plays. While I’ve given them Jersey shore settings (in a happy coincidence, two of the four are originally set in coastal towns) added characters, and updated language, I’ve tried hard to preserve the heart of each story. In the books I use real life situations—a family wedding, the opening of a bed-and-breakfast, the renovation of a restaurant—with realistic characters, the essence of which are Shakespeare's originals. Beatrice and Benedick’s banter, Kate’s anger, and Viola’s faithfulness are as recognizable and relevant today as they were 400 years ago. I hope their 21st century counterparts express these things faithfully--even without the iambic pentameter.

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