And don’t speak any garbage about him not really being him; nobody outside Bigfoot believers and Roswell Rosicrucians seriously contends it. He was him, all right, and a thrashing from crown to crow’s foot is owed to any villainous cur who repeats such bold and saucy wrongs.
The occasion of my praise is to once again bring forth Shakespeare’s good, so that not for one second may it lay interred with his bones. So let it not be with God’s Will. For I have recently seen Ralph Fiennes’ film version of Coriolanus, the tragedy most beloved to those of a formalist persuasion (T.S. Eliot and company didn’t think much of Hamlet—they preferred Coriolanus; I disagree, but more of that anon), and it is a thing well made.
Coriolanus is about revenge—a favorite theme in Shakespeare—something all desire, all suffer for. Its power wields about indiscriminately, redounding upon the vengeful as often as it lands upon the victim—a bloody muddle of indignation, pride, and wrath. [Read more…]