Much Ado About Nothing: A Tragedy in Disguise

The well-known Shakespeare play Much Ado About Nothing is a comedy about two young lovers whose love is disrupted by a series of misunderstandings brought about by the bitter, sly and manipulative Don John.

For me, the play has always had a large question mark hanging over the 'comedy' part. Yes, it does follow the conventions of a comedy: two young lovers, longing to be together, are kept apart by some form of authority figure, and are eventually able to come together by the end, and they get married and everyone is happy. But many people, especially feminist critics, would question whether the ending was in fact happy.

To give a brief overview of the plot, Claudio and Hero are in love, and intend to marry. But Don John stages a scene for Claudio to 'overhear' so that he thinks Hero is being unfaithful to him. The gullible young Claudio is swindled, and chooses to confront Hero, not privately, but on their wedding day, utterly shaming her until she faints from shock. Claudio then proceeds to leave her, disgraced, at the alter. Hero's family decides to tell Claudio that Hero has died, and when the news of her innocence is announced, Claudio grieves for her. Luckily, it is revealed that Hero is not dead at all, and the two get married and live happily ever after.

At the risk of sounding dramatic, I feel have to add: 'Or do they?' Hero, being the traditional, submissive woman in this play appears to have no pride. She seems to simply accept what Claudio has done to her. Apparently it's okay that he publicly humiliated her and accused her of lechery on rather unsubstantial evidence, because he is very, very sorry. I do not consider this play's ending a happy one, as Claudio in no way pays for his misguided and thoughtless actions, although it is hardly a tragic ending, as there is no death. However, the lack of death does seem to be the one thing that stops this play from being a tragedy. Therefore, I believe Much Ado About Nothing to be a tragedy in disguise.

After some studying and research on the subject of tragedy and comedy, I have discovered a way to make Much Ado About Nothing, the comedy, into The Tragedy of Claudio and Hero with only a few small changes.

First things first, in order to keep with the format of the Aristotelian tragedy, Claudio must be of a high status. As he is a nobleman, he is already of fairly high status, so no changes required there. Very importantly, as a tragic hero, he will need a tragic flaw. Again, no changes needed, as we can call his naïve and influential tendencies a tragic flaw, as well the fact that he is clearly short-sighted and severely judgemental.

The scene in which Don John tricks Claudio into believing Hero is unfaithful could remain wholly intact, and act as the pivotal point where Claudio begins his descent. He shames Hero on their wedding day, again, no changes necessary, and again, Hero's family later tells Claudio that Hero has died as a result of his heartless verbal onslaught.

Here is where the changes must begin (note how late in the play the changes become necessary): Claudio, grieving for Hero, laments the consequences of his actions, but his pride and sense of honour convince him that he did the right thing in confronting her for her misdeed. When it is revealed that Hero is innocent, Claudio, overcome by grief and regret for his grave error of judgement, takes his own life, tragically, before the news reaches him that Hero is not really dead. Hero, bereft at the death of her lover, follows suit and takes her life as well. Curtain.

Note how, with so few changes, all of them towards the end of the play, this comedy becomes a tragedy. The main differences are that Claudio is punished for his cruel actions, after his descent from a noble, if shy, young lover to a cold, unforgiving 'murderer' as it were. Unfortunately, Hero still does not receive a happy ending, but as a tragedy, it is more fitting, whereas it seems unfair that Hero gets no form of compensation for the terrible experience she has had to endure at her new husband's hand, in what is supposed to be a comedy.

Obviously, this is only my opinion, but I feel that the play would have worked better as a tragedy, as it has always bothered me that Claudio avoided the consequences of what I consider to be a terrible thing to do to someone, particularly to the woman you supposedly love, and none of the other characters seemed to find this unjust. What is very interesting, I find, is that if Claudio simply took a minute to think things through before openly insulting Hero, things would have run much more smoothly, whereas the tragic hero Hamlet suffered dearly for thinking things through too much. Shakespeare's heroes need to learn to find a happy medium, I suppose.

Unreliable Narrators

WARNING: This post contains possible spoilers for the following books: Frankenstein, The Woman in White and The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time. Proceed with caution.

"Since you have preserved my narration... I would not that a mutilated one should go down to posterity." - Victor Frankenstein of Mary Shelley's Frankenstein

There are a number of texts which touch on the idea of unreliable narrators. They could be biased, they may not have all the information, they may be recounting events which they never witnessed, and are therefore only speculating. In some cases, narrators have a completely different view on events, as in the case of Mark Haddon's The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time, in which the narrator is autistic and reports on the events around him quite differently, with very specific details on things which other narrators would likely pass by. There is also the possibility of the work itself being tampered with if, for instance, the frame of the story is that of a diary or a series of letters, they could have been altered by another character within the story. When studying Wilkie Collins' The Woman in White, my English teacher encouraged us to question the validity of Marian's recount through diary extracts as, at the end of her entries, the villain, Count Fosco, writes in her diary. We were led to suspect that her diary had been altered, possibly with entire passages removed by Fosco in order to protect him from being exposed for the crimes he committed.

When characters recount events in which much dialogue takes place, I have always been sceptical as to whether or not the narrator would really be able to take in all the information at the time and report it back perfectly, word for word. If I were to write down a conversation that took place several hours before, I probably wouldn't use quotations and instead use flimsy phrases like 'he said it was a bad idea' because I would be unable to remember his exact wording. Then again, people in real life rarely have the ability to speak so eloquently and with such rich subtext as many novels will have you believe, so some suspension of disbelief is required. Referring back to The Woman in White, Marian's recounts through her diary entries are somewhat justified in having the dialogue flawlessly replicated by her natural gift of a photographic memory, but many other texts seem to imply that characters just remember exactly how every event happened. Apparently they were that impacting and memorable. Or perhaps I'm going prematurely senile.

When reading Mary Shelley's Frankenstein I started to wonder, as the story progressed, how reliable this narration was, as these events were being recounted by more and more narrators. To clarify, at one point in the story, the monster is telling Frankenstein his tale, which Frankenstein dictated to Walton, who was writing the tale in the form of a letter to his sister. Then later, during the monster's tale, he begins retelling the tale of Felix and Safie. I reached the point where it just started to seem ridiculous. I couldn't know at this point if any of the narrative would be accurate as I was reading it, because it had been through three different narrators before it got to Walton's letter, which I was supposedly reading. My suspension of disbelief was strained at best. Then I read a passage in the last chapter in which Walton explains how Frankenstein amended his account, to fix any mistakes, to ensure that the correct story would go down in history. Despite it not being a particularly pressing concern, this did make it seem more believable. Luckily Shelley is a good enough writer that it didn't bother me enough for me to be distracted all through the novel.

So next time you're reading a book, think about what it is that you're actually reading. How reliable do you think your narrator is? Is it a first-person narrative, in the form of a recount, or a third-person narrative, from the point of view of a seemingly omnipotent observer? Perhaps it is told from a random onlooker's perspective, and we only see their interpretation of the events. Or maybe the narrator really is that good at remembering the tiniest detail of every person they encounter. Mind you, some characters seem striking enough to leave enough of an impression that you could never forget that subtle birthmark just above his full, shapely lips, surrounded by just a touch of stubble on his strong, chiselled jaw.

But don't take my word for it, I just escaped from a mental asylum. And I'm a compulsive liar.

The Strive for Perfection

As I know my readers aren't exactly numerous, I think it is safe to say that you all know that I enjoy drawing as well as writing. Recently I have been trying to adjust my style, and it made me wonder: will I ever be pleased with my artwork? With my writing? Will anyone ever be truly satisfied with their own work? Whatever it is that I do, whatever kind of work I produce, however wonderful I think it is at the time, you can guarantee that a year, a month, even a day later, I will gag at the sight of it. I don't think it's a bad thing: the constant strive for perfection is mostly what keeps me going. If I have no other ideas on what life's meaning is, then I can guess that it is trying to get as close to perfection as possible, even if it isn't attainable.

About a year ago I claimed I was satisfied and comfortable with my art style. I was half right: I was definitely comfortable with it, but several months later I decided I needed a change, then later still I wanted to change it again, and again, and only this week I gave it another tweak to try and push it in a new direction. Then today I was looking at some artwork and realised yet another thing I could do to improve my style ('improve' being used rather loosely). Despite all this, I am actually taking it as a good thing that I understand that I will never be fully happy with my work, and that it hasn't discouraged me from continuing.

Another thing that got me thinking was that when I posted a sample of my new style on DeviantArt, I said "This is not definite... the style I currently use isn't particularly expressive and I'm having less fun drawing in that style... Be very honest with your opinions. If you don't like it, do let me know... if enough people prefer the old one I might go back". It made me wonder whether I was really drawing for me anymore. I always used to draw just for me and close friends, as I only saw it as a hobby, and I was never particularly well-known on DeviantArt. But recently I have been getting more attention there and I am becoming more conscious about what other people will like about my work, whether or not they will enjoy it, whether or not they will appreciate it, or 'get it', whether or not they will find my comics funny. If I really think about it, I do still want to draw for myself: I don't see myself drawing for a living, so I think for now I will continue on the road I am setting out for myself and see where it leads from there. Maybe in the future it will be more than a hobby, I just don't know, but for now, I draw for me, so I'm going to stick with what makes me happy.

The Prince of Persia: Sands of Time: The Film That Could Have Been

WARNING: This post contains spoilers for The Prince of Persia: Sands of Time (film).

Yes, I watched the Prince of Persia film to see what it would be like. I was well aware of the fact that there was a good chance that it would be bad, but I decided to give it a chance, after all, they were given some fairly good material. Unfortunately, the film wasn't really bad so much as it was disappointing. They had an opportunity to make something really great and instead they made something passable. It just wasn't anything special, and I think it really had the potential to be.

Think about it. Had this film incorporated the original source material more appropriately they would have essentially had a Persian zombie movie with time-travel and free-running with the saucy prince and the sexy Maharajah's daughter fighting side-by-side and shooting sarcastic quips at one another. If that isn't a recipe for an awesome film then I don't know what is. Honestly, it was practically served to filmmakers on a silver platter. Unfortunately, they completely removed the zombies (technically 'sand demons' but they are essentially zombies), severely downplayed the time-travelling aspect (they rewound time roughly four times throughout the entire film), and took away the leading lady's bow. Plus they kept spouting lines about destiny roughly every five minutes, even giving the main character (previously a nameless prince) the very unsubtle name Dastan (destin, anyone?). I won't even get into how much they loved to title-drop.

It's true that games aren't particularly renowned for their excellent stories, so it makes sense that they would alter the plot, add some characters here and there, etc. but I would have thought it would be obvious to keep in the sand demons, as that is, apart from being the entire premise of the game's storyline, just undeniably cool. Not to mention it's one of those things that gives you free reign to have the hero waste a lot of baddies without any kind of moral issue: they are monsters, they aren't human, they will eat your face if you don't kill them first and technically they are already dead. Plus they could get away with a lot of impressive violence because they only bleed sand. A sinfully wasted opportunity, people.

One thing I will say I liked is that, although the actor wasn't really right for the part in my opinion, at least the character was still written as being fairly close to the character from the game: arrogant, obsessed with proving himself, convinced that he is always right, and the leading lady was written with the same sarcastic, feisty attitude she had in the game, although for some reason her name was changed to Tamina. What was wrong with the name Farah? She's obviously meant to be the same character, so why change her name? Who knows, or cares? So let's move on.

Overall I think the film would have been okay as a standalone film, supposing the Prince of Persia games didn't exist and this was the first take on the idea, but for a film that claims to be based on the Sands of Time game, I just don't see it. It has the characters (somewhat) and it has the mystical dagger, but that's about it. They changed the story of the prince trying to reach the hourglass to turn back time and undo essentially causing the apocalypse, to the story of the prince being framed for killing his father, then fleeing his home while trying to stop his traitorous uncle from going back in time to undo saving his father's life so that he would never have sons, so the uncle could assume the throne... is it just me or is this sounding like the Lion King with swords, time-travelling and wall-running? So that's just it: it could have been an excellent film, but instead it was a poorly-executed impersonation of the lion king. With magical swords. D- See me.

Everyone Already did Everything

When thinking of storylines, characters, possible plots for episodes and things of that nature, I'm sometimes frequently constantly met with the road block: it's been done. How many times have you thought of an idea, only to be immediately reminded that 'The Simpsons did it' or 'Friends did it'? Well, it happens to me a lot.

The truth is, anything you can think of has been done, even if we aren't aware of it. Whatever original idea I may have come up with, I can bet that someone, somewhere, in some far corner of the planet, has already thought of it. It doesn't necessarily mean I'm unoriginal, it just means that most everything has already been executed in at least one form of media.

Having come to terms with this fact, I don't let the 'it's been done' roadblock get in my way anymore. So what if an idea has already been done? You can always put a fresh spin on it. Even if that fresh spin has already been done, it will still be different in some way if you let it be. Don't let the fact that your idea isn't as original as you thought it was compromise your creativity.

If all else fails, you can always use an idea that has been used so many times, people would never expect anyone to touch it with a ten-foot pole, and claim that you are using it ironically.

Out with the Stupid, In with the Silly

I'm sure I'm not the only one who has noticed that television is becoming stupider these days. Maybe people are getting stupider (I hope that isn't the case) or people just want to laugh without having to think too much. Whatever the reason is, I'm not a fan of this new 'stupid virus'. I mean, I will be the first to admit that I like a little bit of stupid comedy every once in a while, but it seems that every new sitcom, every romantic comedy, every reality TV programme is just tired, predictable and often mind-numbingly idiotic. When nearly every new series is just the same stupid series again and again, then we definitely have a problem.

Most people who know me know that I enjoy watching cartoons, the childish person I am, but I have a strong belief that cartoons are not all stupid and childish, despite still being written for children. One example, it still annoys me, even seven years along the line, is when a cartoon called Sheep In The Big City was pulled from Cartoon Network. The series had a more sophisticated humour, using literal comedy, oxymorons and relentless puns as well as comic references to TV broadcasting, breaking the fourth wall (something which I personally love in a comedy series, as long as it's not done to death), and it was popular with older audiences: not only was I a big fan, but both my parents sat down to watch it with me whenever it was on. The funny thing is that the premiere was apparently the highest-rated premiere for a Cartoon Network original series. Now, I know that every series must run its course, but it just bothers me that this programme got pulled, whereas truly awful cartoons like The Grim Adventures of Billy and Mandy (the newer, stupider episodes, that is), Robot Boy and Codename: Kids Next Door, kept their spot. Yuck.

Now the title for this blog might seem strange, but in my mind 'stupid' and 'silly' have two very different meanings (even though they can sometimes overlap).

Stupid leans more towards the moronic: the 'random' comedy that, in my opinion only succeeds if very well executed and expertly written. It tends to consist of (if done badly, extremely predictable) plays on words (double-entendres, strange euphamisms, etc.) and maybe even (heaven forbid) non-sequiturs. It's important to note that I don't hate all stupid comedy, some of it is quite good, for exactly what it is: a quick laugh at something stupid. It's just when it starts taking over that I have a problem. uk.rottentomatoes.com actually has a fairly good way of expressing what I'm trying to say here, that stupid comedy is basically "a kind of studied stupidity that sometimes passes as humor". Incidentally, it was describing the film Napolean Dynamite, a film which I watched on a very long coach journey and absolutely hated for its borderline insulting moronic 'comedy'. Then again, apparently most people who watched that film loved it, so what do I know?

Silly, on the other hand, is closer to intellectual, without necessarily being intellectual humour. A good example of silly comedy is Monty Python. Someone once described Monty Python as wonderfully weird yet sophisticated, which I suppose is a close enough description of silly comedy. One of the sketches even has the line "stop that, it's silly!". True, some of their sketches were terrible, but the good ones are so well known and so well loved that they overshadow and make up for all the flops (on that note, if you have never seen Monty Python, I highly recommend their YouTube channel here).

So, all I'm saying is that, while there is certainly still room in the media for the fun, stupid comedies, we need to also leave room for silly, intellectual or dark comedy, or any other forms of comedy that often get pushed to the side by the 'cheap laughs' crowd. I know it's not for everyone, but I also know that a large number of people would appreciate a little bit more variety in comedy.

Now I know that I come off as sounding very stuck-up pretentious, even condescending in this blog, but honestly it is difficult not to sound that way when dealing with this topic. I assure you, I in no way intended to offend anyone or be patronising, just to be relentlessly vindictive and cynical.

Examinations

Having just set my A Levels, I noticed a few problems in the system. I'm sure I don't have as much experience as some: university finals, driving theory exams and the like, but I'm not here to start a competition.

For one, they are very hard on the neck: unavoidable I suppose, but very inconvenient. Also they are a pain on the hand/wrist/arm, and legs tend to fall asleep as well. Physically, exams are not good for you, and they are mentally stressful as well. Try not to have a heart attack (which, incidentelly, was just about the only thing I wasn't asked about in my Biology exam).

That brings me neatly to my next point: I can't help but think that sometimes we learn things just for the exams, as we don't always learn exactly what something means, just the right way to phrase it to get the marks. This makes me feel like learning about transpiration in plants and atheromas, aneurisms, etc. has been a waste of time because they didn't come up in the exam. Although, knowing about the cause (and therefore prevention) of heart attacks will probably prove useful. Maybe that was a bad example, but you get the idea.

On the subject of exam technique; that's a real mission. Having to phrase an answer just right, paying close attention to the number of marks provided for the question, remembering to crowbar in certain key points and all the terminology can be tedious. Sometimes deciphering the exam paper and finding which questions you are supposed to answer becomes an exam in itself. In fact, that may not be a bad idea. If the candidate can't work out which question they are supposed to answer, or they don't follow the instructions properly, the examiner knows that they aren't A Level (or GCSE or whatever exam it is) material. To be honest, there isn't a lot of confusion about it: if you are given a choice of questions to answer, it seems logical to answer the one relating to the text or topic you have been learning about and revising.

Then there is also the problem that some exams seem to be testing our ability to memorise and regurgitate facts rather than actually knowing the material, and when that is happening, you know something has gone wrong somewhere along the line. However, the French Oral Exam I took in April wasn't the same as the GCSE last year, where I could just recite a passage I had learned (this year there was too much material to memorise) so I had to actually know the French and speak with some spontaneity, so the system does sometimes work. However, one of my biggest problems with Biology (particularly Unit 2) was remembering all the information, when I should have been focusing on how to understand and apply it to How Science Works.

True, exams are there for a reason, and they get the job done: hopefully I haven't failed all of my exams. But even if I have, a cardboard box shouldn't be too hard to obtain...