A most perfidious and drunken monster - Thoughts on Caliban

In February 2012 Bradley University is joining with Loyola University and Western Illinois University to present 3U Shak3f3st – a three university Shakespeare Festival on the Bradley campus in Peoria, Illinois.

The four-day event will include performances of The Tempest by Bradley University Theatre (Feb 24th), Measure for Measure by Loyola University (Feb 25th), and a compression of all three parts of Henry VI by Western Illinois University (Feb 26th), along with The Complete Works of William Shakespeare (Abridged) as an opener on Feb 23rd.

I will be directing Bradley’s production of The Tempest so from time to time; I will be sharing the creative process of developing this production in this blog.

Over the past week I have had some very interesting discussions with colleagues about Caliban. This conversation arose out of collaborative discussions to discover a production approach. This is the second time I will have directed this wonderful play. In my original production staged back in 1989, we took a post-colonial approach to the production where Caliban (played by the wonderful actor Craig Wallace now working with the Shakespeare Theatre in Washington DC) was the oppressed noble islander fighting to regain his rightful authority over the island and freedom from Prospero (played by the equally wonderful Michael Connolly who is now the head of the MFA acting program at SMU.)

In this production I am taking a different approach – The Tempest as a revenge play. I picked up on this tread in reading an N.Y. Times interview with Shakespeare Scholar Marjorie Garber, the author of Shakespeare After All.

"Here's a man exiled from Milan with his infant daughter," she said of Prospero and Miranda. "He's been brooding on how to get back what's been taken from him."

"He creates a storm, and nobody dies. There is a marriage rather than a death at the end. He wreaks his vengeance by not reaping his vengeance."

" 'The rarer action is in virtue than in vengeance,' " Ms. Garber said, quoting Prospero.

The issue is pertinent today, she said, to "the Iraq war, any situation of conflict that goes back a number of years in which one or the other of the parties bears an old grudge."

Focusing on Prospero’s rage and his reclaimed humanity through forgiveness becomes a challenge when we look at the inhumane way he treats Caliban especially in light of our post-colonial world-view. The more we humanize Caliban the more inhumane we make Prospero. Not that this complexity is to be avoided but it got me thinking – Is Caliban a man or a monster? Is the play an exploration of early colonial attitudes towards natives or is it a fantasy where magic and monsters live?

Shakespeare was writing in a pre-colonial world (or at least in the very early days of it.) The Tempest was first performed in 1611. The story is inspired, in part, by the shipwreck of the Sea Venture in Bermuda in 1609. The Sea Venture was bringing supplies to the struggling settlement of Jamestown in Virginia. The first Africans to arrive in Jamestown occurred in 1619 when a Dutch slave trader exchanged his cargo of Africans for food. So while slavery was a practice of the time – the impact of colonialism to the "new world" was not known at the time of his writing. Shakespeare's writings were more influenced by the fantasy of that unexplored world.

For example, in 1.2.374 of The Tempest, Caliban references the Patagonian God Setebos:

I must obey; his art is of such power
It would control my dam’s god Setebos,
And make a vassal of him.

Magellan discovered Patagonia at the southern tip of South America in 1520. A fellow voyager, Antonio Pigafetta, described the discovery in Relations of the First Round-the-world Trip (1536)

"When one of those people die, ten or twelve demons all painted appear to them and dance very joyfully about the corpse. They notice that one of those demons is much taller than the others, and he cries out and rejoices more. They paint themselves exactly in the same manner as the demon appears to them painted. They call the larger demon Setebos, and the others Cheleulle. That giant also told us by signs that he had seen the demons with two horns on their heads, and long hair which hung to the feet belching forth fire from mouth and buttocks. The captain-general called those people Patagoni (big feet). They all clothe themselves in the skins of that animal above mentioned; and they have no houses except those made from the skin of the same animal, and they wander hither and thither with those houses just as the Cingani do. They live on raw flesh and on a sweet root which they call chapae. Each of the two whom we captured ate a basketful of biscuit, and drank one-half pailful of water at a gulp. They also ate rats without skinning them."

It is these amazing stories of the discovery of the “new world” that fired Shakespeare’s imagination.

Ironically, Caliban is not a “native” to the island having been born from the witch Sycorax almost as soon as she arrives. He has no cultural history with the area. Sycorax was exiled from Algiers to the remote island for practicing witchcraft. It was her pregnancy that saved her from being put to death. ("This blue-eyed hag was hither brought with child" 1.2.269) Also, there are references in the text that Caliban's father was the devil or an evil spirit (1.2.320.) That's one for the Monster column.

Another good place start to exploring the question of man or monster is Caliban's actions. It is hard to find redeeming qualities in Caliban given his confessed attempt at raping Miranda (1.2.350) and his plans to kill Prospero (3.2.88-91.) We can understand his motivation given that his island home was "taken" from him but that occurred only after the attempted rape. That attempt must have been recent - within two years given Miranda's age. The text details the 12-year relationship Prospero and Miranda had with Caliban:

"When thou cam'st first
Thou strok'st me and made much of me; wouldst give me
Water with berries in't, and teach me how
To name the bigger light and how the less
That burn by day and night. And then I loved thee
And showed thee all the qualities o'th' isle;" (1.2.333-338)

Miranda adds to this that she taught him to speak:

I pitied thee,
Took pains to make thee speak, taught thee each hour
One thing or other. When thou didst not, savage,
Know thine own meaning, but wouldst gabble like
A thing most brutish, I endowed thy purposes
With words that made them known. (1.2.354-359)

To which Caliban responds:

You taught me language, and my profit on't
Is I know how to curse. The red plague rid you
For learning me your language! (1.2.364-366)

Caliban is a monster based on his actions but he is given some of the most beautiful poetry in the play.

Be not afeard; the isle is full of noises,
Sounds and sweet airs, that give delight and hurt not.
Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments
Will hum about mine ears; and sometime voices,
That if I then had waked after long sleep,
Will make me sleep again; and then, in dreaming,
The clouds methought would open and show riches
Ready to drop upon me that, when I waked,
I cried to dream again. (3.2.135-143)

If we look to the descriptions of him in the text we see him described as:

A freckled whelp, hag born not honored with a human shape (1.2.284)
Tortoise (1.2.317)
Got by the devil himself (1.2.320)
Filth as thou art (1.2.346)
Abhorred (1.2.353)
Savage (1.2.356)
Brutish (1.2.358)
Hag seed (1.2.366)
A most perfidious and drunken monster (2.2.147)
Puppy-headed monster. A most scurvy monster (2.2.151)
Deboshed fish (3.2.25)
Half a fish and half a monster (3.2.28)
A plain fish (5.1.266)
Thing of darkness (5.1.275)

The most detailed description comes from the clown Trinculo in Act 2 scene 2:

What have we here, a man or a fish? Dead or alive? A fish: he smells like a fish, a very ancient and fish-like smell, a kind of not of the newest Poor-John. A strange fish! Were I in England now (as once I was) and had but this fish painted, not a holiday fool there but would give a piece of silver. There would this monster make a man; any strange beast there makes a man. When they will not give a doit to relieve a lame beggar, they will lay out ten to see a dead Indian. Legged like a man and his fins like arms! Warm o' my troth! I do now let loose my opinion, hold it no longer: this is no fish, but an islander, that hath lately suffered by a thunderbolt.

Many artists have sought to render images of Caliban as a monster as well.

John Mortimer 1775

C.W. Sharpe 1875

Charles A Buchel 1904

Many theatre productions have presented Caliban as a monster as well. Here are two of my favorite images:

Dion Johnstone as Caliban in the Stratford Festival’s 2010 production of 'The Tempest'.

Gil Garland as Caliban in The Inn Theatre Company’s 2008 production of 'The Tempest'.

So where does all this lead me in my thinking about Caliban? Is he a monster or a native? Well, I am not sure yet. I'll explore the other half of my question - Caliban as a Native - in a later blog as I continue my Travels with Willy. (And if you don't follow this blog - I guess you will just have to come see our production in February!

A Place of Memories - Kentucky Shakespeare Festival

I just wrapped up a weeklong Daddy-Daughter vacation. Callista and I traveled down to North Florida for a couple of days of SCUBA diving, swimming, tubing, and, most importantly, talking and spending time together. To celebrate our wonderful trip, we decided to spend our last night out in a place that held many memories for us – The Kentucky Shakespeare Festival in Louisville, KY. Now you may think that the oldest Free Shakespeare Festival in the USA would be a strange place for a 13-year-old young woman to want to go with her old man but our visit was the continuation of our shared journey with Shakespeare that began 14 years ago.

I worked at the Festival for the first time the summer of 1996. It was following the divorce from my first wife and the summer was a sort of therapy for me. I was (and still am) great friends with Curt Tofteland, the former artistic director of KSF. Our friendship began a decade earlier when we were both working the Historical Drama circuit. Curt knew I was hurting and invited me to come up to play in the park for the summer (and play is what I needed!) We performed Two Gents (Curt was Launce and I was Speed) and Henry V in which I played Exeter. It was a great summer where I made many new friends (John and Be still hold a very special place in my heart), learned how to bet on the horses at Churchill Downs, built decks, and even got my ear pieced! It was the summer I reconnected with myself and healed so I could take the next step in my life.

That next step was meeting Eli when I got back to Texas. Within a year we were married and I had a whole new family with Jesse (who introduced Eli and I – but that is another story on my journey with Shakespeare), Aaron, and Beka! Eli and I were married in May 2007 and two weeks after we said “We will!” I was back in Kentucky working the festival again. (That is the hardest part of a life in theatre – traveling away from those you love to work.) That summer was The Tempest and I played Sebastian while John played Antonio – we were two large evil men! This was a different summer in many respects – I had just gotten married, John and Be were getting married at the end of the Festival, and while the play (both on and off stage) was fun, I missed my family and really wanted to be with them.

Knowing it was going to be a challenging summer, Eli and I planned that she and Beka would come to Louisville for a visit in Mid-June around Father’s Day (My first and I was excited to have Beka there to share it with me!) To celebrate my first patriarchal event, I had asked Curt if I could give the “barreling speech” at intermission on that Sunday. (Barreling was a tradition at KSF where we passed that hat during intermission to raise money to “Keep Will Free!” The company had a friendly competition running on which group could raise the most money so giving a moving speech was a key strategy to inspiring the audience to give generously.) I was going to use my first Father’s Day as a secret weapon and had my speech all worked out even to the point of introducing my family to the audience! It was a sure fire plan to have the most successful night of barreling at the Festival – one that would be talked about for years and passed down generation to generation! Or so I thought.

You see, Eli stole the show - and my life became even more amazing. When she arrived in Louisville she gave me a wonderful present. We were going to have a baby! Eli was pregnant with Callista and I was now the father of four beautiful children. Words still cannot express what I felt when she shared the news with me. I was speechless and for a man of the theatre – that joyous silence spoke volumes.

So there I was, celebrating my first Father’s Day standing center stage at Shakespeare in the Park sharing with the world that I was the proud and loving husband of a wonderful woman who not only entrusted me with her first three children, but also loved me enough to have a fourth! I don’t remember much else I said – my eyes were glued to the smiling faces of my wife and daughter who came to Louisville to share this moment with me. My life was indeed a wonderful “strange new world.” Callista was born on Valentine’s Day 2008 and the journey continued.

Eight years later I was back in Louisville working the festival again. It was the summer of 2006. Curt was still the Artistic Director but was planning his retirement soon. I was now the chair of Theatre at Bradley, Eli had just finished her PhD at Illinois State University, and Callista was “such stuff as dreams are made on!” Beka, Aaron (now a father himself), and Jesse were all living in Texas on their own now so Eli was free to join me in Kentucky for the whole summer. We packed our house up in Peoria, invited a student to house-sit while we were gone, and rented a house in Louisville. To give Eli some time for herself to explore the area, we enrolled Callista in Shakespeare Camp. For part of each day she was enjoying the Bard and continuing her our journey with Shakespeare. (By eight years old Callista was already a veteran with Shakespeare having played “the Baby” in Romeo and Juliet at the age of 2 weeks – that is also another story.) Having seen more Shakespeare than any other child her age, Callista was excited about the camp, so much so we bought her a series of books called Shakespeare for Kids by Lois Burdett and began reading her (and her reading to us) the stories every night. At the camp, they studied Shakespeare and Elizabethan Theatre, practiced text and verse, and learned how to dance and sword fight! As a final performance, the class presented a cutting of Romeo and Juliet and who do you think was cast to play Tybalt! I was one proud papa when my little girl ran on the festival stage and declaimed her line:

“What, drawn, and talk of peace! I hate the word,
As I hate hell, all Montagues, and thee:
Have at thee, coward!”

The sword fight was done in slow motion for obvious reasons but was thrilling all the same!

Later that same night, Callista and I switched places as I played Duke Senior and Duke Frederick in As You Like It. It was a memory filled day and as I tucked my beautiful girl to bed that night, I began to wonder about our future together on stage – Would one day I play Lear or Prospero to Callista’s Cordelia or Miranda? Who knows? I simply smiled. The point is we shared a moment that is forever in our lives and Shakespeare was the connection.

So Thursday night as we sat in Central Park once again enjoying the work of the actors on Kentucky Shakespeare Festival stage, my daughter sat curled in my arm and I knew in my heart what Shakespeare (and Eli) had given me. The journey continues.

Happy Father’s Day!

And Shakespeare Laughed!

Shakespeare taught me a lesson this week. Actually, someone I trusted taught me the lesson; Shakespeare was the one standing over my shoulder laughing, saying “I told ya so!

A month ago I loaned a sum of money to an individual whom I have know for many years and trusted. This was not a “pocket change” loan. It was one of substance that had me dipping into my vacation savings, but the individual was in desperate shape and I felt this person was worth the risk.

A few days after the loan, I was proven right when this individual told me they had my money (before I even asked for it) and that when I saw them at an event in a few days they would bring it. “Great!” I thought and felt good about helping out a person in need.

When we next met a few days later, a look of shock came over this person’s face – they forgot the money at home but promised to bring it to another event the next day. No biggie! I have forgotten items myself when busy with other things on my mind.

The next day came and yes – they had the money – one quarter cash and a check for the difference. I said "Thank you!" and they said "Thank you!"

Good deed done – or so I thought. It was a Friday evening. Saturday I deposited the check – the same day this individual traveled out of the area to work a new gig. On Monday, the check was listed as pending in my account – by Wednesday it bounced. The check was rubber plus the bank hit me up for a service fee because of it.

I quickly contacted this individual but heard nothing for a day and then contacted them again. Finally a Facebook message came to me: "I though I sent you an email at work – Must not have gone through. I am sorry about the problem. I spoke to my bank and it looks like I was short $15.00. That's my fault. If you can email me your home address I would be more than happy to mail you the money and the charge. Again, I'm so sorry this has been delayed - I honestly appreciate the help and am not trying to shortchange you! Thanks again!”

Honest mistake – I send my address and waited. And waited. And waited.

Sent another message. “When did you send that money? It hasn’t arrived yet”

The message came back, “It went out in the mail on Tuesday, after the holiday. It's in a half sized manila envelope (I don't trust the white ones with cash). Thanks for the heads up!”

Now two thoughts began going through my mind – Why wait a week to sent the money out and why cash? I kept my fingers crossed and watched for the mail.

Another week passed – another message sent – “Where’s the money? I need it by Friday or I’ll have problems with my vacation.”

Came the reply, “I have no clue what's wrong. According to the UPS order, it is in Peoria. That being said, I'll go ahead and overnight it out to you. If you get the manila one, just send it back. I really do apologize for this. I can send you the UPS tracking number if you would like.”

I quickly replied and asked them to send me the tracking number. No reply – I began texting now. Finally: “Oh, I contacted the Post Office and they say it is lost. That’s OK, it is insured. So I sent out a money order… It is arriving at your house tomorrow.”

I text back, “ Do you have the NEW tracking number?”

“There isn’t one…” I stopped reading and began looking to see is I had grown a tail and two ears like Bottom in A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Was I surprised when no money order arrived in the mail the next day?

“How did you send the money order?” I asked.

“Western Union. To your home address.”

“Any Tracking Number?”

“No, I just filled out a form and they sent it. They said they would email me when you signed for it.”

I called Western Union – All funds have a tracking number.

I was now calling and leaving messages on Facebook, email, text, and voice asking them to send me the tracking number!

No answer. Tried again at 11AM. No answer. Tried again at 5 PM. No answer.

At 8:30 PM I get a text: ”My phone died at work. Here is the tracking number: XXX-XXX-XXXX. I though it was being dropped off at your door. You have to go to a Western Union Office and pick it up. Sorry this has been such a hassle. Have a great vacation!”

I was supposed to leave on my vacation the next day. Western Union closed at 8 P.M. I looked out on their website. The Western Union at a nearby Kroger opens at 7 A.M. I can pick up the money first thing in the morning and still head out on time.

At 7:30 A.M. I am at the Kroger. As I walk up to the service desk I am greeted by a sign that says: We open at 8:00 A.M. I am starting to fume. I “ask” a cashier for help. “Oh, I am sorry but we don’t open until 8.” “Western Union says you open at 7!” “We don’t open until 8!” “Western Union says you open at 7!” She called the manager. “Can I help you?” “Western Union says you open at 7 and I have some money I need to pick up!” “We don’t open until 8!” “Western Union says you open at 7!” “We don’t open until 8!” “Western Union says …” “Alright, I’ll help you. Fill out one of those forms there!” and she stomped away. I begin to fill out the form. I no sooner put pen to paper than she stuck her head out the office door and said, “Wait, how much money is that for?” I told her the amount. “Oh, we don’t have that kind of money here. You’ll have to wait until the Wells Fargo truck arrives with our cash for the day.” I took a deep breath. “What time is that?” I asked. “Well, they just reworked the delivery schedule and they are not expected until 1:30 this afternoon, but I’d call first if I were you.” I just turned and walked out of the store!

From my office I contacted Western Union and with the tracking number I now had confirmation that the money was indeed there. I found another local office that had enough cash on hand and RAN there as fast as I could.

As the cashier took my form and began typing numbers into her keyboard I breathed a sign of relief … and then I hear him laughing – William Shakespeare!

Actually he was singing. “Be not a lender nor a beggar be. Do not regret, stay out of debt!” I flashed back to being 8 years old watching Gilligan’s Island as theatre producer Harold Hecuba staged Hamlet as a one man show starring himself (Phil Silvers was hilarious!) during which he sang a bastardized version of Polonius’ advice to his son Laertes:

Neither a borrower nor a lender be;
For loan oft loses both itself and friend,

I began to laugh out loud.

The sound of the cash register opening brought me back to reality and I focused as the cashier began to count out my money. "20, 40, 60, 80, 100..." A feeling of relief swept over me. "20, 40, 60, 80, 200..." This Comedy of Errors was over. "20, 40, 60, 80, 400..." For a moment I was even willing to give the benefit of doubt to my acquaintance. "20, 40, 60, 80, 600..." Perhaps this really was simply a series of honest attempts gone awry.

I smiled as the last bill landed it my hand. It was all there – except for the bounced check fee… and William Shakespeare is still laughing!

Words in the Warehouse - An Idea for a Classical Theatre in Peoria

Last night Eli, Callista and I took advantage of Peoria’s First Friday Art Crawl hosted by Ciao (Central Illinois Artists Organization) and visited several galleries in our warehouse district where we saw the tremendous work of many visual artists. At one stop a friend, Doug Leunig, was showing me around The Mill, one of gallery/studio spaces on the crawl when I said “We need to get performing arts involved in First Fridays.” A smile ran across his face and a twinkle came to his eye as he opened a door that lead to an open section of the warehouse that could easily be converted into a theatre. At that moment I had that creative tingle run down my spine that all artists are familiar with – the “What If” tingle.

So here is the idea that hit me in the middle of Peoria’s warehouse district last night – Words in the Warehouse – a classical theatre set is the developing warehouse district in Peoria Il. It could start as a simple affair – a flexible unit stage (Think Blackfriers) and a season of five or six of Shakespeare’s plays staged in rotating rep. Three shows on one weekend a month to start. All local talent.

Scenery would be kept to a minimum utilizing a few necessary set pieces (tables, chairs, thrones). Costumes could be handled in an accessorized contemporary dress (Black shirts and slacks with pieces added as needed) Simple lighting and sound. After an audience based was built up over a few years the production values could be enhanced.

Everyone involved would be paid as in Shakespeare’s day - a share of the net proceeds. No one would get rich quick but Shakespeare didn’t buy New Place the year he started either. Income could be enhanced through a partnership with a local restaurant/tavern that could handle concessions during intermission.

The focus would be on the text and storytelling – Words in the Warehouse.

Any takers? (Better yet – ANY BACKERS?)