Today
has been a day of dual celebrations for me, because it is both
Shakespeare's (probable) 450th birthday and my dear Darcy's (definite)
1st. Indeed, had I known that they were going to share the day, I may
have named him accordingly. That said, I'm highly controversial in my
choice of favourite Shakespearean 'hero' (for reasons I shall explore
below), so 'Petruccio' would have been rather a mouthful when shouted
during walks...and, let's face it, he really wasn't going to be called
anything but Darcy. In this case Austen trumped the Bard. I wonder
whether he would've minded?
Anyway,
I knew I wanted to mark the day somehow, but I didn't believe that
anyone would want to be subjected to a collage of photos and videos from
my puppy's first year - however cute he may be. So I thought I'd write a
little ramble on my own very idiosyncratic relationship with 'dear old
Shax', as we called him whilst at Warwick.
(This
is your chance to stop reading, if you so desire, for beyond there
lieth geekery and badly formed pentameter... [that wasn't pentameter,
just an awful rhyming couplet])
I first discovered the beauty of Shakespeare's work at about the age of six, albeit via the medium of Prokofiev's ballet Romeo and Juliet.
Now, I know that sounds terribly pretentious, but it's true. I have the
most vivid memory of my Gramma being over to stay, and us sitting in
front of the TV, eating macaroni cheese and watching the famous 'Dance
of the Knights'. My little mind was enraptured and I was convinced from
that moment on that I was destined to be a prima ballerina. Once I
realised that wasn't going to happen (more on that in a later post),
because I knew that the ballet was based on a play, I was desperate to
read it...and all the rest.
Well,
it turned out that theatre (and especially Shakespeare) was my new
favourite thing, and those first readings sparked a devotion which has
lasted a lifetime. Not only was the language exquisite, but it was
something I could do on my own - i.e. without help - as long as I
memorised the lines. More than that, whilst reciting, I discovered the
freedom of being someone else. With the help of Juliet, Rosalind,
Beatrice or Desdemona, I could leave my chair behind, even if only for a
moment. What joy!
Fast
forward a decade or so, and I found myself at Warwick, not too far from
where my idol was himself born and raised. I joined Shakesoc, the uni
society. Then, in the summer after my second year, I did the Shakespeare
Summer School at RADA. Three things happened - I fell in love with
RADA, I made some very lovely and talented friends, and I began to learn
that my chair can be a positive influence when it comes to acting; I
don't always have to escape.
The
latter realisation came about as a result of the monologue our group
director suggested to me for our final presentation - the opening speech
of Richard III. I was intrigued, it being one of the few I had yet to read. In learning it I saw that Shakespeare had managed to capture the essence of living as a person with a disability in such a way (and with such precision) that he articulated the finer details of my own experience, despite a temporal distance of some four centuries. It was an emotional rollercoaster, but it set up a new phase of my adoration - if I had loved him at six or ten, I loved him even more at twenty.
I went back to Warwick filled with hope for third year. It was the year of our compulsory Shakespeare module, for which I chose the practical strand nicknamed 'Shakespeare Without Chairs', in full cognisance of the irony of my taking it. Hilarity and play and wonderful workshops ensued. I wrote my first sonnet sequence, between Hotspur and Lady Percy from Henry IV I, and found that it quickly became my favourite poetic form. (I've since written two more, and I'm currently working on a third, between Beatrice and Benedick from Much Ado...)
I also decided that I would somehow write about the character of Richard III for my dissertation. That was when I reread Taming of the Shrew and, pondering the way in which it could be posed as a narrative of the dynamic between gender and disability ('Why does the world report that Kate doth limp?'), fell in love with Petruccio. My tutor mentioned Caliban, so I undertook a three-pronged analysis, examining disability in relation to masculinity, femininity and ethnicity - which led me to London 2012, and the use of The Tempest in both the Olympic and Paralympic opening ceremonies.
Then I took a breath...
...but only briefly, before finding myself at RADA again and plunging into the world of Richard II in my first term. Who knew it would be another Plantagenet Richard furthering my exploration of Shakespeare and, this time, making a difference to my body as well as to my soul?
I didn't - but if there's one thing I've learnt about Shax, it's that he's full of surprises...and I bet he'd be surprised if we knew we were still so enamoured of him today, and that all the sonnets about time and words were right.
Happy birthday, my liege, since that's the address you deserve - and gramercy.
Posted with Blogsy