Philanthropy to Misanthropy

On the London South-bank, half-way between the London Eye and the Oxo building, almost underneath Waterloo Bridge, nestles the National Theatre. An archetype of Brutalist architecture in Britain, the theatre is in the impressive position of appearing simultaneously in both the 'most popular' and 'most hated' building lists. It has housed a broad range of productions, one of the most recent and notable being War Horse, but a great many others including Frankenstein and Antigone, as well as Shakespeare works often cropping up. I was present at this historical building on Wednesday, 31st October, but despite being away from the university on Hallowe'en, I feel I may have had a somewhat similar experience as the rest of the students there. Plenty of dressing up, of course, but also fake blood, partying, an excess of expense, greed, and, in a manner not unlike trick-or-treating, a scene where feces was served up for dinner. I was, of course, viewing a little-known Shakespeare play.

Oh, not obvious? Maybe I'll go into a little more detail. Timon (pronounced like Simon) of Athens is a work we're lucky to have knowledge of at this time at all. In 1623 the publisher of the first collected edition of Shakesparrow's plays was having trouble obtaining the rights to Troilus and Cressida, intended to follow Romeo and Juliet in the tragedies section. At the last minute, they grabbed Timon of Athens to fill the gap. We can only hope that plays don't have feelings.

The play contains an ambiguous moral to say the least. The first Act sees Timon (Simon Russell Beale) throwing great banquets and giving presents of expensive jewels to his friends. They flatter and feast and generally make merry until Timon's steward (Or in this production, Flavia the stewardess, played by Deborah Findley) is forced to point out that his money is fast dwindling. Our tragic hero turns to his friends for help, but as it is perhaps possible to guess, every single one can think of an excuse preventing them from returning even a small portion of the generosity displayed to them over the years. My personal favourite was the character (I forget which) who was too offended to give any money, because Timon had not come to them first.

Timon releases an extraordinary amount of rage, loses all his wealth and abandoned his class. Shortly before abandoning Athens completely and making for the wasteland beyond, he throws one final grand supper. Unlike earlier in the play the plates are covered, and somehow the vision flitted through my mind, of what might be on them. Timon gives an impressive speech on the feeling of generosity being met by greed, and the favour never returned. His guests, bound by social convention, sit there spell-bound, and when are told to dig into the feast, uncover plates of excrement. Still they sit (though gagging and choking) to hear Timon out, though the spell is broken when he lifts a handful of their 'meal' to palm it onto a guest's head, and they flee.

Whatever anyone says, Shakespeare knew how to keep the audiences coming, and was not afraid of shocking, repulsing, and insulting his viewers. But Timon was not intending this as a prank, to be forgiven in time. The remainder of the play explores his all-consuming rage with everything Athens is and fails to be, and eventually dies. But it is off-stage, and quiet, and the audience never truly finds out if it is suicide, or by another means. It is a sad death, given no spotlight, nothing overly-dramatic. Now he's no longer freely handing out his wealth, no one is interested in whether Timon is alive or dead. All except the one redeeming character of this play, the stewardess Flavia.

The production was an enjoyable one. I appreciate modern dress in Shakespeare when it is well done, as this was. The scenery and costumes served to show how relevant dear Shakesparrow still is. Particularly appropriate was the scene of the rebelling lower classes camping in modern 2-man tents and brandishing placards. I also liked seeing a work I'd never even heard of, it will be perfect to compare to King Lear, as the most clear example, as well as many other works of Shakespeare's. In addition, one of my favourite things about theatre is the audience themselves. Sharing the atmosphere, laughing, groaning, flinching together, only adds to the experience.

Indeed, it is due to the audience that I experienced the most entertaining conversation I've heard in sometime, as was related by my mother to friend Amy and I in the interval. Two ladies having a conversation in the toilets:
"So, what was it he'd served up to his guests?"
"It... it was faeces."
"Oh! I thought it was poo!"

Fortunate, perhaps, that Shakespeare would never have over-heard that conversation from where they were situated, even if it had been the correct century.

Yours, feeling cultured,
Abby

To Winter

When you step outside and the chill nip at your fingertips reminds you of a pair of gloves, upstairs snuggled in a drawer. But it's too late, and you hurry off, hiding the cold digits in your cuffs.
When the last clutches of auburn leaves break up the harsh black lines of bare branches against the eggshell sky. I wonder if the reason I shall never have walls this colour is because of the reminder it will serve; it is the hue of this cruel wind.
The carpet of fire is completed. The trees have let fall their cadmium colours, and they crunch underfoot. All too soon they will be slippery, a hazardous mush to block drains and freeze across pathways.
The sun shines but it is music falling on a deaf ear. The heat does not reach us, and we huddle, and stamp our feet, and sit by the radiators...
...and watch the bonfires flare against a backdrop of the dark as pitch sky, and squirrel away at roasted chestnuts, and delight in the bundling up of mittens and scarves and novelty hats. All Hallow's Eve is upon us, and costumes are agonised over, and Guy Fawkes celebrations will follow soon after. Fireworks, and the warm glow of your house as it comes into view after a swift walk home, and the dew-drenched cobwebs in the crisp early mornings. Christmas is just around the corner, and we save, and plan gifts, and start counting down...
...Winter is not so bad. He must feel jealous of Summer and her bright colours, her giggling breezes beside his gales, her soft rains beside his storms. He cares gently for his snowdrops, he feeds you crumbles and thick stews and stuffing with the turkey. He casts the silence during the first snow, composes the soft cascade of the flakes that fall. He has made ready all the children's favourite games. Conkers, snowball fights, the glitter-drenched pictures of November 5th. He reminds everyone of friends and family, gathers them together, and watches through the snow-lined window as they sit, and laugh, and make merry.

I can never decide if I'm a summer person or a winter person. Enjoy the beautiful season as it is.

The more you look, the more you see

Yours, Reflectfully,

Abby