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    Arts

    Subtext: Conversations about Classic Books and Films

    Subtext is a book club podcast for readers interested in what the greatest works of the human imagination say about life’s big questions. Each episode, philosopher Wes Alwan and poet Erin O’Luanaigh conduct a close reading of a text or film and co-write an audio essay about it in real time. It’s literary analysis, but in the best sense: we try not overly stuffy and pedantic, but rather focus on unearthing what’s most compelling about great books and movies, and how it is they can touch our lives in such a significant way.

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    Latest Episodes:
    The Emptiness of Signification in Shakespeare’s “The Winter’s Tale” (Part 1) Nov 20, 2023
    Show notes

    When King Leontes accuses his pregnant wife of adultery, the nobleman Antigonus assumes that Leontes has been “abused and by some putter-on”—in other words, some Iago-like villain has been putting malevolent ideas into his head. In fact, Leontes is the father of his own misconceptions, just as he is the father of his wife’s children. But unlike his children, his ideas might be said to have no mother; they lack corroboration, which is to say, collaboration with a source outside himself. How, then, do we account for the seemingly spontaneous generation of his thoughts? How can false apprehensions arise out of nothing? And what price must one pay for bearing these misconceptions, these “nothings,” into the world? In this episode, the first part of a six part discussion, Wes & Erin discuss one of Shakespeare’s last plays, “The Winter’s Tale.” Thanks to our sponsor for this episode, St. John’s College. Learn more about undergraduate–and graduate–Great Books programs at St. John’s in Santa Fe, New Mexico and Annapolis, Maryland at sjc.edu/subtext. Pre-order Erin’s forthcoming book “Avail” here: http://subtextpodcast.com/avail For bonus content, become a paid subscriber at Patreon or directly on the Apple Podcasts app. Patreon subscribers also get early access to ad-free regular episodes. Also from Wes: Curtain Times, a calendar of Boston theatre, classical, talks and readings. Follow:Twitter | Facebook | Website Transcript 0:11 Erin: When King Leontes accuses his pregnant wife of adultery, the nobleman Antigonus assumes that Leontes has been abused by some putter-on. In other words, some Iago like villain has been putting malevolent ideas into his head. In fact, Leontes is the father of his own misconceptions, just as he is the father of his wife's children. But unlike his children, his ideas might be said to have no mother. They lack corroboration, which is to say collaboration with a source outside himself. How then do we account for the seemingly spontaneous generation of his thoughts? How can false apprehensions arise out of nothing? And what price must one pay for bearing these misconceptions, these nothings, into the world? In this episode, the first part of a multi part discussion, we'll be talking about one of Shakespeare's last plays, the Winter's Tale. This is Erin O'Luanaigh, this is Wes Alwan, and you're listening to Subtext. Okay, Wes, So the Winter's Tale is Shakespeare's possibly his second to last play, is that right? 1:15 Wes: Or third to last? I was looking at a chronology. So it's after Cymbeline, supposedly, and before the Tempest, Henry VIII and two noble kinsmen. So okay, 1610 or 1611, is that right? 1:31 Erin: Yes. So, but really his second to last great play, I'd argue, right? His penultimate great play, sure. So it's classified as a romance. And this question of genre is one that's a bit interesting, especially because this play is playing so consciously with generic crossover, with taking two genres and putting them together, something we'll probably talk about later when we get to Acts 4 and 5, when the play becomes something quite different. But in romance we have a mixture, I think, of comedy and tragedy, of comic and tragic registers. The question of what genre this actually is, or whether or not it's useful to call something a romance, is an interesting one. But in general they seem to be characterized by a loose episodic structure. There are elements of fantasy or improbability, or even the supernatural that run through romance. Those listeners who are familiar with our episode on the Tempest will remember that there's explicit invocation of the gods and supernatural creatures, right, like Ariel, that are running around. Caliban has some elements of the supernatural in him, and there's this sort of halfway between the comic and tragic that occurs. So tragedy, which is never quite fully tragic and with a sort of generous smattering of comic relief even within the tragedy, which we can argue, I suppose, in these first three acts, if there are comic moments, I think there are quite a few of them. So there are things that are irrevocable. Time passes, people do die. But then the comedy also works itself out of the ingredients that are already in place within the tragedy. So the action is transposed in this particular play from one generation to the next. And the movement from tragedy to comedy, I think, has a lot to do with this displacement by way of the generation. So there's a regeneration into comedy, just as there's a regeneration with these younger people now coming of age and becoming interested in marriage and starting their own lives, their own history together. So there's. That's something about, I suppose, about romance in general, but also this play in particular, and the way that it blends these episodes, as I said, of fantasy, of the supernatural, also of both comedy and tragedy wedded together or interspersed with each other. 4:11 Wes: Yeah, I really like the way you put that when you say transposition of the action into the next generation. So it starts out on the trajectory of the tragic. And maybe there's some tragic element like the death of Mamilius or in the Tempest. It looks like it's gonna be. It looks like Prospero is gonna be merely getting revenge. But then we get, in the end, a comedy in which some young people are, I want to say, cobbled together in a relationship. You get the redemption in the union of the younger generation, which undoes a rift in the older generation. And I hadn't thought about it in terms of the phrase, the way you had put it exactly, this transposition into the next generation. 5:05 Erin: Well, there's something, too, I think, about. And this is another element of romance which I should have mentioned earlier, which is this travel element. Right. The Tempest has this as well. Even though most of the. Most of the action is just located in one place. There's this idea of this huge map over which these events are taking place. So there's huge spaces traversed. It's very peripatetic. Right. We have Sicilia and Bohemia having a sea coast. So there's something fantastical inherent in that kind of imaginary space. But this transposition, I think, between one generation to the next is repeated in this idea of these two spaces that you're. That we're toggling back and forth between, which represent. They'll represent a change in the genre of the play. When we go from Sicilia, which is sort of dour and extremely regal and courtly and regimented, and we go to Bohemia, which is a place occupied by shepherds and clowns and. And all of these fun people. And it's much more pastoral and it has these fantastical elements to it in a way that Cecilia doesn't. And so this kind of transposition into a different environment, a different frame of mind, I think is also repeated in this generational. This regeneration. Right. In which we have a relationship which has failed. The relationship between Leontes and Hermione literally renewing itself in this new place with this next group of young people. 6:37 Wes: Yeah, it has a desert, it has a seacoast, it has bears, which Ben Jonson really criticized him for that. And of course, yes, the pursued by bear. Famous criticism. What is the bear for? I read that it may have been just that they happen to have a bear available and available. And so Shakespeare put that in the play. And I thought it really misses the point to criticize something like that, because this is really, first and foremost about entertainment. It's sublime entertainment. But if you have a bear, you're going to use the bear. I mean, that's the governing principle of the art at that point. But he's taking these fantastic elements from Robert Greene's Pandosto. So although he reverses. Is that how you pronounce it? 7:23 Erin: Yeah, Pandosto. 7:25 Wes: Pandosto. Robert Greene, by the way, the guy who had accused Shakespeare of plagiarism, apparently said, referred to Shakespeare as that upstart crow beautified in our feathers. Which is taken. It doesn't mention Shakespeare by name, but it's taken to be a reference to Shakespeare. And here Shakespeare is essentially adapting a story by Robert Greene. So including Bohemia, which is basically part of the Czech Republic, doesn't have a desert, obviously doesn't have a coast. And yet in this fantasy it does. And not only that, it looks like the English countryside really is what this second setting for the play seems to be. 8:13 Erin: I take the bear more than anything to be a pun. Maybe I'm being a little silly in that way, but. Right. But there's so much emphasis in these first three acts on, obviously on the pregnancy of Hermione and on people having these misconceptions or these conceptions, people bearing ideas. Antigonus, when he's overtaken by the bear, it seems to be this personification almost, or that's not the right word for an animal, but I can't think of the proper word, but that this is the last gasp of this violent idea that's taken root in Leonti's mind and which has killed, arguably killed at least two people. And then finally, Antigonus in this last moment, which is then very quickly transposed into a comedic moment. Right? But Antigonus is the last person, it seems, who believes Leontes story. One of the things, maybe that marks Antigonus for death is the fact that he does believe it still. Right. Camillo gets away in order to avoid killing off Polixenes, but Antigonus leaves with the baby on this evil errand that he's agreed to do for Leontes before he can hear from the oracle that it's all bunk, that Leontes suspicions of Hermione are garbage. And so in doing this evil deed of leaving Perdita to die by exposure, he's just following orders, of course, right. But he gets his comeuppance in the form of a bear, kind of a born idea that's swallows him up. Maybe I'm a. 9:52 Wes: What idea? 9:53 Erin: A born idea. An idea born out that he's carried this idea, personified by Perdita, across the oceans that seem to separate Sicily and Bohemia. And then when she's deposited, born again into this new place, he's then eaten by the bear, the last vestiges of this idea. 10:15 Wes: That's great. In a way, it's. Again, I hadn't thought of it this way. I mean, I certainly appreciated the comedy of the moment and I think it's already comical, him running out with a bear running after him, even before the son of the shepherd, the clown, cracks some funny. Makes some funny remarks about it. But you're making me think of this as. This is an interesting segue from the tragic to the comic. It's almost a decomposition of the tragic. Here's a terrible violent act that actually is played for laughs. So I like that. I like that a lot. Shall we start into act one? 11:00 Erin: Yeah, let's rewind and see how we get to Bohemia first place. 11:05 Wes: Yeah. So I. In a way, this play is about, obviously about jealousy. And there's a great psychology, I think, to the first act and to the transition, the quick transition in the mind of Leontes into the mental state of jealousy, although that. That itself has also been criticized. But I think it's done expertly and. And part of the. What I think is so expert about it is that the play actually grounds itself in a reflection of. About the concept of gratitude and hospitality. And I thought, surely other people have thought about this, right? They had. The secondary literature doesn't just focus on jealousy. And of course, I did a quick search. I didn't read anything, but, yeah, there's a million papers written on hospitality and Gratitude and the Winner's Tale. But I think there's also an interesting relation between. There's an interesting transition from the question of hospitality to jealousy. But in any case, the play begins with a scene between Camilo and Archidamus in which there's this worry over whether the hospitality of the Sicilians can actually be returned when Leontes visits Bohemia. So Archidamus suggests that instead of living up to that challenge. Right, because it can't be lived up to, the hospitality they've received in Sicily is so great that there's no recompense for that. So instead he says, we will give you sleepy drinks. That your senses unintelligent of our insufficience may, though they cannot praise us as little, accuse us. And then the first scene sets up some other stuff, including the idea that Polixenes and Leontes have this unalterable affection between them and that Mamillius is a gentleman of great promise that everyone wants to see become a man. But I was taken by this early emphasis on the concept of hospitality, which also is how things play out in the beginning of the second scene. I don't know what you made of that. 13:28 Erin: Yeah, this first scene, I love the fact that we're talking about this because it's something that might easily be skipped over and yet I think it's. It has all the themes of the play in it in microcosm. So we have all these things that you're describing, this question of hospitality. In fact, I was joking with. I was joking with someone the other day that you could take Leonti's jealousy or his insanity as just evidence of the fact that this is a play about guests that have stayed too long, they've been there for nine months and people start to go crazy. And that's the way it goes. 14:03 Wes: That's what happens. Yeah. 14:04 Erin: Right. But we have. 14:05 Wes: Especially when you're leaving right at the nine month mark, it's very suspicious. 14:10 Erin: Well, there's a lot of correlation equals causation here. 14:12 Wes: I mean. 14:13 Erin: Oh, yeah, we can immediately see. 14:15 Wes: I'm not so sure. They didn't actually get together. 14:18 Erin: No way. Really? 14:19 Wes: Based on the way it's portrayed. 14:20 Erin: Yeah. Well, it's pretty. Yeah. Their language is pretty. Polixenes and Hermione are speaking almost exclusively in sexual metaphors with each other. But prior to that. Yeah. So we have Archidamus as representative of Bohemia and Camillo as representative of Sicilia. So we already have this kind of metonymic function happening here in which these two men are each representing their two kingdoms. As parts of the aristocracy, I believe, and as proxies for their kings. And then they refer to their kings as Bohemia and Sicilia. A further metonymic function, metonymic kind of distancing or replacement of these men with their countries. And yet we learn that Bohemia hasn't really been in Bohemia for quite a while. Right. And then we understand that this is a friendship which, though it's extremely close, has been carried out by proxy by gifts and letters and other things which have this kind of replacement function that metonymy has. So there's something up here, right? There's. I see this as prefiguring something as late as Hermione's statue or. Which. I know I'm really getting ahead of myself here, or the fact that. 15:37 Wes: Spoiler alert, spoiler alert. 15:39 Erin: Or Florizel replacing Mamilius. We also have this idea that Mamilius isn't going to exist very soon after this scene. Already within this scene, Archidamus is already projecting what would happen if the king had no son. At the end of this scene, the sleepy drinks we know are going to come up later. This is potentially where Camillo gets the idea in the substance scene to poison Polixenes. It's lent to him by Archidamus in this scene. It's also. I mean, Leontes isn't here to listen to this, but this idea of these…

    Full show notes at the publisher

    (post)script: Post-Tryst (Woody Allen’s “Hannah and Her Sisters”) Nov 13, 2023
    Show notes

    Wes & Erin continue their discussion of Woody Allen’s “Hannah and Her Sisters.” Pre-order Erin’s forthcoming book “Avail” here: http://subtextpodcast.com/avail For bonus content, become a paid subscriber at Patreon or directly on the Apple Podcasts app. Patreon subscribers also get early access to ad-free regular episodes. Also from Wes: Curtain Times, a calendar of Boston theatre, classical, talks and readings. Follow:Twitter | Facebook | Website Transcript 0:01 Erin: Welcome to Postscript. We just finished talking about Hannah and her sisters in our main episode. We talked about pretty much every major character in the ensemble except for Hannah's parents, Norma and I can't. I don't think the father ever gets a name. But anyway, the original sin of this family is their marriage. So we have to talk about that. They're the beginning of all the dysfunction. So the mother is an alcoholic, as we already touched on. Lee obviously inherited that from her mother. And Holly, it seems, also maybe has inherited this addiction problem from the mother. The father, it suggested that he has had many affairs as well. Right. That he laid everyone in stock. 0:50 Wes: Well, he accuses her of the same thing. They accuse each other of having slept with all of Hollywood, I think. 0:55 Erin: Yeah. His line is one of my favorites theater world. But, yeah, in the theater world. Yeah. He said, I can only hope that she was mine. We're talking about Hannah's as his daughter. And he says, slept with his. Or. No, her father could have been anybody in Actors' Equity. One of my favorite lines in the film. Yeah. So they're both. You know, I see their problems as being theatrical ones, but also maybe as the most obvious expressions of the kind of the root of the neuroticism that everyone in the family seems to labor under. I see everyone's problems as being fundamentally. How to put this? Sorry. Like, these are people who are very privileged and intelligent. Right. So their neuroticism seems to be a kind of. They're looking too hard or too closely perhaps, at what, for other people would be like basic, normal processes of life. Right. Their neuroticism kind of emerges from them overthinking or inventing problems for themselves out of their own privilege or intelligence or artistry or something like that. I'm painting with a broad brush here, but I kind of, you know, I kind of feel like that's most obvious in the parents relationship, where it's obvious that they love each other and they're kind of throwing these roadblocks in the way of their love for each other because they kind of. They can't deal with it, you know, so they're going out and they're having affairs or she's drinking or. Right. I think that a lot of these characters, it kind of boils down to the fact that they can't. That they just. They can't deal with something that for maybe a less complicated person, wouldn't even be a thought. Right. And so for the parents, it's like, you can't just love your wife you can't just love your husband. You have to have all these problems, right? You have to. You have to deflect that love. You have to. You can't deal with it head on. You're too complicated for that. You have to have other issues. Is that. I mean, this to be, like, serious, though. I'm sounding flippant in my criticism of them. I think this is a common problem, right? 3:20 Wes: Yeah. 3:22 Erin: Love is too much. 3:23 Wes: Love is too much. So they're creating enough friction in order to avoid collapsing into each other or something like that. 3:35 Erin: Right. 3:35 Wes: That's the only way they know how to maintain separation. We kind of talked about that with much ado about nothing. Except that witty banter maybe was a healthier version, I don't know, of what's happening. I mean, I think part of it is about age and part of it is about the big life that they've already had that's now behind them at this point in the film. It's a really nice feeling at the beginning of the film that we get as we're introduced to all these characters really deftly, because there's so many to introduce. We get introduced to everyone's characters and their problems and all in the context of this Thanksgiving scene where the parents are in the other room singing. And it's a nice kind of family feel. It feels warm, it feels good. It feels like the parents have created that kind of environment for everyone, even as we discover all the complications. So right up front, we become acquainted with Lee's, you know, problems with Frederick and her lack of a vocation or lack of money, and Holly's situation and her drug problem. All the rest of it all very quickly. The mother's alcoholism, of course, you know, it all begins with Elliot's unfaithfulness, unfaithful heart. As you know, we even hear about Mickey and Frederick, who are not there. They come up, but all within this sort of environment that I think in the beginning has been created by the parents. And the parents sort of hover over everything. And when I think. I think it's Lee who says something about how when she comes into the kitchen, about how they're going down memory lane. And then the sisters start talking about the mom, and at least she's not drinking. And at a certain point in the film, the mother is going to return to drinking and it's a crisis. And Hannah gets called over there. Let me just find that point. So this is really at the midpoint of the movie. So it's. Or no, it's. It's at least it's Hannah's midpoint of. The midpoint of her arc, where. Where she goes over there and the mother has just tried to seduce the salesman, according to the father, whereas too old. Sorry, Just too. Too old to seduce the salesman. So she got drunk, she got upset. So her two big flaws come into play here. Her desire to be still desirable at this age and flirt with people of any age, and the alcoholism. So then they get into that fight, and it's a good thing we had such a talented daughter. So we get the idea that Hannah is, in a way, kind of attempt to repair their relationship. And her perfectness and wholeness. Right. Stands in distinction to that and offsets it, the cracks in their relationship. There's that remark about how she could be anyone's, which you already pointed out. And then I think the father makes a remark about, you never know when she's going to fall off the wagon and humiliate everyone. And the mother accuses him of being jealous of the attention, and he's all, show. How can you act if there's nothing inside to come out? She was so beautiful and him so dashing. And so now we get into Hannah's voiceover and is. I think this is the only voiceover for Hannah in the film. Everyone. 7:42 Erin: Oh, is it? 7:42 Wes: Is there voiceovers? I think this might be. I don't know. Yeah. So. And when I went back to my notes, somebody else surprised because I was looking at my notes and I'm like, wait a minute. Why? Who's saying this? And I realized, oh, yeah, this is Hannah's voiceover. So she's thinking about her parents and describing how the mother was so beautiful and the father was so dashing. They were full of hopes that never materialized. And they loved the idea of having kids, but not of raising them. So you wonder what these hopes are that never materialize. Because I had had the sense that they had had some success, and they were. I started off the speech thinking that. Thinking in terms of them feeling the loss of that success as they got older and their youth and their attractiveness and all that stuff. 8:39 Erin: Well, I think they're work a day actors. You know, I think that they are. The scene starts because they were going down to film a commercial for the mayor's office. That's what they said. 8:50 Wes: Right. I see. Okay. 8:53 Erin: They're in Equity. Right. So they're working actors, but maybe they want it to be, you know, Katharine Cornell and Olivier, but they're still working. You know, they have. They're the type of people that have all the stories. 9:14 Wes: Right. 9:15 Erin: Of the great actors that they were in the company with, you know, because they played, you know, they played third, fourth, fifth string to, you know, to the Cornells, to the whoever. And so. So I think it's that they. They had the ambition to be at the peak. 9:36 Wes: Yeah. So that. That sheds a lot of light on it for me, I think I didn't get that. So. But now that. Yeah, that sheds that knowing. That sheds a lot of light on the whole movie, actually. But go ahead. 9:51 Erin: Yeah. Well, then we also have the father. One of the things I love about that voiceover of Hannah's is the fact that we think that we're hearing piano on the soundtrack. And it turns out to be coming from the father who started playing the piano in the other room. And we see them come back together over the piano. And he's quite good. Or whoever's playing it is quite good. 10:14 Wes: Right. 10:15 Erin: But one of the things that she says that we kind of glossed over, he's all show. This is the mother talking about the father now, how can you act when there's nothing inside to come out? She calls him a non person or a haircut that passes for a man, says that he could never support them. So it would be one thing maybe if she never had her ambitions, material, but for the man, in a marriage that must have started in the 30s or 40s, for a man to never become successful, for his ambitions to never materialize, that's a problem. Right. And so she maybe has little respect for his talent because he wasn't able to make it, at least not in a big way. 11:11 Wes: Well, yeah. And they've just called her. Hannah has just been called gifted by the parents. And she ends this scene in her voiceover saying, my gift was luck. 11:26 Erin: Yes. 11:27 Wes: I thought Lee was the one destined for great things. And her father is at the piano at this point. And then she's. The scene ends with her in this reverie and then the next scene at the dock, which I think we see with Lee at the dock at least a couple of times. Lee is in her own reverie at that point. So we get this really nice transition from Hannah's reverie into Lee's reverie. Although we don't know exactly what she's thinking about. There's no voiceover, but we can imagine she's thinking about the Elliot situation and even Hannah's reverie. It's a little unclear what that's about exactly. You know, we. We know this idea that. That her gift was Just luck. But that can't, you know, that can't be the focal point of what she's. She seems to be in a positive state of mind. So I don't know what she's thinking about exactly, but it's an. It. Oh, it is. Oh, she says that to them. Okay, Right. That's right. 12:26 Erin: Yeah. Because the mother answers, because Hannah says. The mother says that of anyone in the family, you were the one blessed with the tr. And then that's when Hannah deflects and she says it was luck. And she always thought Lee was the one doesn't for great things. The mother says she's lovely, but she doesn't have your spark. She knows it. She worships you. She wouldn't dare get up on stage, which is a shocking thing to say. And then she says Holly's game for anything, though. She's like her mother, the mother saying this. That really the mother is like Holly, which I think is right. 13:02 Wes: Okay, so then Hannah's reverie is a 13:04 Erin: reaction to that, I guess what it precedes that Hannah. Well, her voiceover precedes it then. Yes. And then she does have Hannah. 13:13 Wes: You get this look on her face at the end of that scene. It's just. It's a close up on her face looking angelic, I think. Space. Yeah, angelic and just. And thinking about something. And then you come to Lee in the same sort of state of mind. But. 13:31 Erin: Right. 13:31 Wes: And so. Yeah. So what is Hannah thinking about in that moment? Is she. Is she. She taking in her mother's praise or is she reaffirming the idea that her. Her gift was always luck? I think there's something. There's a truth to that, that her. That she's actually just lucky. But I don't know what you said. 13:55 Erin: Well, I would agree with that. I think it's such a fascinating question when it comes to these. This is what makes acting so fascinating because in fact, talent helps a lot, but ultimately a lot of it is down to luck. And there are a lot of forces at work which are completely outside of one's control. The idea that Hannah is the most talented one is taken for granted because she's the one with the success. Maybe she is just lucky. Holly, the mother says she's game for anything. There's a luck about that. There's a luck that because Holly is game for anything, she can shuffle through a bunch of possible identities until she finds one that hits. I think there are. I think this is really complex. The suggestion that the father hasn't fulfilled his promise. Is it because he wasn't talented enough or because he wasn't lucky? What constitutes luck by this definition? They seem to be pretty lucky people from where I'm sitting. Yeah, Right. They have a beautiful. Well, I think it's Hannah's apartment. But they have a kind of a beautiful life, an artistic life, and all things considered, a pretty happy marriage. 15:24 Wes: Well, the luck is always luckier on the other side of the. Of the what? The fence. What would the luckier luck be on the other side of. Yeah, on the other side of success. But. 15:39 Erin: Well, there's Lee's beauty. That's lucky. Right. The mother's beauty, which the father. I love. I love, love, love their conversation. Well, that's actually the second of the three Thanksgivings, because we have this. 15:54 Wes: Okay. Yeah. 15:55 Erin: Yeah. We have them being a bit high the first Thanksgiving. High spirits, I mean, and maybe a little bit precipitously high spirits. Then we have the plunge into this scene, and then they're telling stories and they're. You know, and he's saying these wonderful things about how she was so beautiful that men drove their cars up on the sidewalks. You know, like, I love that. That's such a beautiful thing to say about someone. And. And then in the final Thanksgiving, it's when he's just playing the piano and she's listening. It's a contemplative moment, and it's a quiet moment. And therefore, we are. We're calm. It's satisfying. They seem stable. Right. 16:40 Wes: She's drinking and singing, and so I like the fact that everyone's just accepted the fact that she's gonna drink. 16:46 Erin: Yeah, that's it. 16:48 Wes: All right. We're gonna just live with that. 16:51 Erin: Who knows? Maybe it's seltzer. 16:53 Wes: We can hope. 16:55 Erin: That penultimate Christmas Thanksgiving, though, is really, really a great moment. Their arc seems to have been resolved by that point because he's now expressing this apprec. Of her. She's expressing appreciation of him. We see the evidence of this and the photographs of them looking very lovely as young people. And so, you know, we believe these stories. And of course, she's, you know, of course they're both actors, so also, we know what they looked like when they were younger. But. Yeah, anyway, I just. I love that. I love that scene. I love what he says about how beautiful she was. It's like such a dream romance, you know? I mean, they a…

    Full show notes at the publisher

    The Tyranny of the Good in Woody Allen’s “Hannah and Her Sisters” Nov 06, 2023
    Show notes

    Hannah supports her sisters. She’s a source of money, encouragement, and advice, and seems to ask for nothing in return. In fact, she’s so giving and self-reliant that her husband Eliott begins to believe that she has no needs. This seems to be the spark that ignites his infatuation with Hannah’s sister Lee. It also leads her sister Holly to rebel against what might be called Hannah’s regime of care, only to marry another of her dissidents, her ex-husband Mickey. Wes & Erin discuss Woody Allen’s 1986 classic, and try to figure out why those closest to Hannah need to escape her goodness to find themselves, and whether a loved one can be too perfect for our own good. Pre-order Erin’s forthcoming book “Avail” here: http://subtextpodcast.com/avail For bonus content, become a paid subscriber at Patreon or directly on the Apple Podcasts app. Patreon subscribers also get early access to ad-free regular episodes. Also from Wes: Curtain Times, a calendar of Boston theatre, classical, talks and readings. Follow:Twitter | Facebook | Website Transcript 0:12 Wes: Hannah supports her sisters. She's a source of money, encouragement and advice and seems to ask for nothing in return. In fact, she's so giving and self reliant that her husband Elliot begins to believe that she has no needs. This seems to be the spark that ignites his infatuation with Ha Hannah's sister Lee. It also leads her sister Holly to rebel against what might be called Hannah's regime of care, only to marry another of her dissidents, her ex husband, Mickey. Today we discuss Woody Allen's 1986 classic and try to figure out why those closest to Hannah need to escape her goodness to find themselves and whether a loved one can be too perfect for our own good. 0:55 Erin: This is Wes Alwan, this is Erin 0:58 Wes: O'Luanaigh, and you're listening to Subtext. So Erin, the film is called Hannah and Her Sisters. And yet I'm not sure that we can make Hannah out to be the protagonist of the film in any typical sense. It is an ensemble film, so in a sense there are a lot of protagonists in the film, but the most passive of them all is Hannah. In that sense, she reminds me of Alyosha, say in the Brothers Karamazov, where not only he's the protagonist, but all the action and the bigger arcs happen for Ivan and Dmitri. So why is Hannah the center of the film and what role is she playing in it? We see other characters with their problems and arcs. We're introduced very early on to Elliot's or we're introduced in the very beginning to Elliot's infatuation with Lee, her lack of a direction, career wise and unhappy relationship with Frederick, Holly's drug use and failing career and lack of a relationship, Mickey's hypochondria. Everyone has a problem but Hannah. The accusation that's ultimately made against her is that she is too self sufficient, doesn't have any needs, and maybe we could even say doesn't really have any problems. So why call this film Hannah and Her sisters? Why not call it Lee and Holly and their sister Hannah? Their sister Hannah in parentheses and smaller font. 2:42 Erin: Yeah, that's a great question. I described her to someone the other day as the still center of the neurotic carousel. 2:49 Wes: Love it. Love that description. That's great. That's so perfect. She is like the unmoved mover in a way. 2:57 Erin: Yeah. But I also, I don't know, I tried to be more critical of her this time around or to try to dig in a little bit. I actually think that you know, the more critical of her you can be, the more likable she becomes, which is, you know, I think, maybe central to this question of her lack of flaws, her passivity, whatever we want to call it. I started to see a little bit more, especially in the Holly dynamic, that she is allowing herself to be manipulated, I think, in that relationship. And that this kind of mother daughter dynamic, which is a little bit messy and a little bit screwed up, is, I think, being fed in both directions, like any dynamic. Right. I think that Holly is looking to disarm Hannah. You know, when she continually comes to her to ask for her money and support. I think there's a part of Holly that wants to be validated by Hannah. She knows maybe that she doesn't deserve this validation. Right. But just in terms of the conversations around money, she says, you know, now, don't get upset. It encourages Hannah to then say, oh, you know, I know, I never get upset about this. Right. But it's a dynamic that kind of reminds me of something that someone once did to me. In the middle of this big party, a party for me, they sort of dropped an emotional bomb on me and then said, you're such a wonderful person. So I knew I could tell you this and you would understand, you know, and that made me immediately feel like I could not. Me not understanding would mean that I'm not a wonderful anymore. Right. So I played along with it and only later realized what a huge manipulation that was. Right. But it also came from my need to be thought of as a wonderful person. 4:33 Wes: I murdered someone. 4:35 Erin: Right. 4:37 Wes: It helped me live with that secret forever. 4:40 Erin: Exactly. It helped me understand, I think, some of what's going on in Hannah. I mean, does she have. She claims that she has enormous needs. 4:49 Wes: Yeah. 4:49 Erin: Does she? 4:50 Wes: That's a great scene. She's accused by Elliot in that scene of. Let's look at the actual dialogue, or really, I have. I have it in my notes here. There's been two different. This is the second Thanksgiving, the tumultuous Thanksgiving. We see three Thanksgivings in the film, and Hannah and Elliot are fighting. And in a previous scene, she's been talking to Holly. Hannah's been talking to Holly because she's upset. A script that Holly has written seems to be based on Hannah's life, and Holly seems to know far too much about Hannah's life, and that could have come only from Elliot, which, of course means that it was fed to Holly by Lee. And this is the closest we get in the film to Hannah figuring out that she's been betrayed. So the upshot of the script is that she's too self sufficient and has no needs. You're so giving and everyone relies on you, you know, and I think Hannah says, you make it sound like I have no needs or something. You think I'm too self sufficient, Holly. Now, Hannah, that's not what I meant. You know, everyone relies on you for so much. You're so giving. It's not a criticism. We love you, we're grateful. And Hannah says, you're grateful, but you resent me. And then Holly comes back with you and Elliot. You mentioned to me yourself that you and Elliot are having some problems. So Holly is trying to reassure her at that point that she understands that she's not completely self sufficient. So this accusation that's there in Lee's, Holly's script, sorry, comes up again between Hannah and Elliot where Eliot parrots those concerns. And obviously, you know, again, the script has been based on his report. Hannah asks him if he finds her too giving, too competent, too perfect, and 6:45 Erin: ultimately too disgustingly perfect. 6:47 Wes: Yeah, and ultimately he said, it's hard to be around someone who gives so much and needs so little in return. She says, I have enormous needs, which is the line that you just mentioned, which is an interesting way to put it, using this word, enormous. And then Elliot says, well, I can't see them and neither can we or Holly. This is really a climactic moment of the film, at least for Lee and Hannah and Elliot, these scenes at this Thanksgiving. So anyway, she has enormous needs, she claims. But does she? 7:20 Erin: Well, earlier in that conversation with Holly, Hannah says that she has problems. You know, she sort of admits to these problems, but she doesn't want to bother everyone. And Holly says that's the. I'd like to be bothered. These problems, of course, stem from the fact that Eliot is being kind of emotionally abusive to her. Right. Because of the affair with Lee. And prior to that, perhaps she really didn't have any problems, which is what caused Eliot to run into Lee's arms in the first place. I think that what's most interesting for me in this scene. So we have this conversation with Holly and Hannah, then we have an interlude in which the mother, I think her name is Norma, Maureen O'Sullivan, comes into the kitchen and praises Holly for her script and says that she loves the character of the mother who's just a boozy old flirt with a filthy mouth. Right? Yeah, it's a minor moment. You think it's just a laugh line. In fact, I think it casts Hannah's Reaction in a very interesting light. Hannah has a right to be upset, of course, by the content of Holly's play. But I think the contrast with her mother's, maybe self awareness or unselfconsciousness highlights Hannah's own need to control people's perceptions of her. Maybe this is why she refuses to share her problems with her sisters. In other words, she resents being perceived as having no needs, but she would do anything rather than admit a flaw or a lack that would produce a need. So maybe the question isn't, does Hannah have needs or not? Maybe the question is, will Hannah admit what those are and place herself in that position of vulnerability to allow other people in? Maybe this is all about image control for her, that she has to be the confident one, the one who takes care of everyone else, and the one who is perceived by others as being disgustingly perfect. The sad thing is that the relationship between Eliot and Lee destroys Hannah's confidence in her own control over her situation, perhaps, which then produces in her the very vulnerability that she lacked in the first place that caused Eliot to go to Lee in the first place. There are many other causes as well, you know, especially Eliot's immaturity. 9:38 Wes: Right. 9:38 Erin: But the conditions of the affair are such that it sustains the fallout, the emotional fallout, then sustains the marriage for as long as it will work out. I think there's an open question at the end of the film as to whether or not this is a long term solution, which we could talk about too. 9:54 Wes: Yeah, I think that word control that you used is an important one because by being self sufficient, and not just self sufficient, but the one that everyone relies on, she can control people in that way. And the way she controls them is not always to their benefit, or at least that's the accusation that Lee makes against her. I think when they're in the restaurant, there's the scene when they're shopping when Hannah is very discouraging about. Sorry, I'm saying Lee and I think. I mean Holly. That's the accusation that Holly makes against her. There's the scene where they're shopping together and Hannah is very discouraging about the audition. There's the scene in the restaurant where they're all having lunch, I think lunch or dinner together. And Holly is asking for more money, but now she wants to be a writer, no longer an actress. And Hannah is telling her to do something practical, do something productive, which would sounds like it would just mean having an administrative position somewhere and giving up her dreams. So Hannah herself has been artistically successful. She was in A Doll's House, right? She had a performance in that. I think the implication is that she's been successful as an artist, as an actress, and that her parents have it as well. The film begins with the parents being nostalgic. I think a lot of what happens at Thanksgiving in those celebrations involves. Well, the father is playing at the piano and the mother is. At least in the end, she's boozing it up again. She has an alcohol problem, falls off the wagon. And by the end of the film, I think it seems to be okay. But that she's doing that. Everyone has just accepted it. But the mother and the father seem to reminisce about the good old days and youth and possibility. And that kind of longing, by the way, is every. That's the kind of thing Ibsen was dealing with, I think. So they've had their own success. They're longing, you know, they're nostalgic about it. Hannah has had it, and she seems almost indifferent to it. When she's being celebrated for her success, she says, well, you know, it's nothing. I'm just gonna go back to what's important, which is my husband and the family. So she seems to. Things seem to come effortlessly for her, and she doesn't seem to care all that much about those accomplishments, the things that everyone else is striving for and being really very neurotic about, whether it's work involving work or love, she seems to be very placid about. And I think it has something to do with her being. Having become a maternal figure in the family. You get the sense that because their mother is an alcoholic and is concerned primarily with being an actress, it seems that Hannah stepped into that role. And that means that she's been both sister and mother to Holly and Lee. And that's where some of these problems are coming from. Because on the one hand, she is the provider of resources. She's the nurturer. She's the one everyone can rely on. On the other hand, there's sibling rivalry. The sisters want to be like her. They want to reach her level of success. But she forecloses that in a way, she forecloses that by getting people to depend on her, by killing off their striving, by making them passive. She's a passive protagonist. But because she's already accomplished everything and is stable, the other protagonists are striving. But they. They're stuck in the sense that they've been possessed by her passivity. If they can rely on her, they don't need to go anywhere. She keeps them within the familial fold. So I think the accusations against her are apt in a way. 13:47 Erin: The question of A Doll's House and of her playing Nora is a really interesting one because, you know, of course, that play is about a woman who seems to be the perfect housewife, but who walks out on that role in the end. And I think there's a question, just as there's a question at the end of the film, can this marriage between Eliot and Hannah really be sustained? I think there's maybe a little suggestion that Hannah might walk out on that life that she's built at some point, though I think this is at the end because we're told that she's gonna be playing Desdemona. I think it is in a public TV performance. So she's gone back to. Which I see as a really good sign. Right. I think, you know, Hannah at the beginning is fascinatingly the opposite of Nora. So she was an actress who walked away from the stage, it seems, to become a mother and to want to go deeper into this motherly housewife role. I think it's really interesting when she describes this one temporary return she's made as Nora. It seemed to me that she had. She had a successful stage career. This whole first marriage with Mickey went on, and this sperm donor best friend of Mickey who was. Who fathered the twins. And then she seems to have also adopted other children. And then the second marriage with Eliot at some point, right, she's walked away from the stage and become a housewife. But this one temporary return that she's made to play Nora in A Doll's House, she describes it as something that she had to get out of her system, which I think is a really interesting phrase, because it's as though her own needs or ambitions are a kind…

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    Odysseus and Penelope’s Comedy of Remarriage (“The Odyssey,” Postscript to Part 3) Oct 30, 2023
    Show notes

    Wes & Erin conclude their discussion of “The Odyssey,” with a focus on Odysseus and Penelope getting reacquainted with each other in Books 19 and 23. We discuss Penelope asking Odysseus-in-disguise whether she should marry a suitor, but tells him the dream of 20 geese, foretelling their ruin; the test involving the bed post tree trunk; and how we might think of the ending to this epic as a comedy of remarriage. Thanks to our sponsors for this episode St. John’s College, and Füm. Learn more about undergraduate–and graduate–Great Books programs at St. John’s in Santa Fe, New Mexico and Annapolis, Maryland at sjc.edu/subtext. Head to TryFum.com and use code SUBTEXT to save 10 percent off when you get the Journey pack today. Pre-order Erin’s forthcoming book “Avail” here: http://subtextpodcast.com/avail For bonus content, become a paid subscriber at Patreon or directly on the Apple Podcasts app. Patreon subscribers also get early access to ad-free regular episodes. Also from Wes: Curtain Times, a calendar of Boston theatre, classical, talks and readings. Follow:Twitter | Facebook | Website Transcript 0:00 Wes: Okay. Welcome to Postscript. We just got almost done talking about the Odyssey. We are just going to finish up by talking about Odysseus reuniting with Penelope and in particular, books 19 and 23, where they have their personal interactions with each other. So it's in book 19 that he first sits down with Penelope. I think this is page 428 in Emily Wilson's translation. So let me just go there. I think Penelope asks him about who he is, and he says, don't ask me about my family or native land. You have the right to question me, but do not ask about my family or native land. The memory will fill my heart with pain. I am a man of sorrow. I think that's where the I am a man of constant sorrow idea comes from. And then it's in what movie? 0:57 Erin: Oh, Brother, Where Art Thou? 0:58 Wes: Yeah, it's just, I guess, retelling in a way. And then the other aspect of this, which I thought was interesting, well, we get more testing because Odysseus, as beggar tells of seeing real Odysseus. There's a great line where the poet says his lies were like the truth. And as she listened, she began to weep. But she then tests him by asking what Odysseus looked like. And he describes that. And she knew the signs, so she knows his story is authentic. Odysseus says he's heard that Odysseus is coming home, but he wanted. This is the part where he says he had to travel to get more wealth, which is a funny way of bragging. And then Penelope says, no, I don't think he's coming back. And then finally Penelope says, should I marry a suitor? And then comes up with this idea of, let's look at that. This is 4:41. This is an odd. And I'll say why in a moment. So she starts out this speech by saying, stranger, I have one small question I want to ask you. I lie crying in bed and overwhelmed by pain, worries and sorrows crowd into my heart. And then a little farther, farther down, just so, my mind pulls two directions. Should I stay here beside my son and keep things all the same, my property, my slave girls and my great house to show respect towards my husband's bed and what the people say, or should I marry one of them, whichever is best of all the suitors and can bring most presents and so on. And then she tells a dream about 20 geese and them getting killed by an eagle, which is obviously a vision of Odysseus killing the suitors. And Odysseus just says, well your dream means that, you know, it portends ruin for all the suitors. So he doesn't directly answer. And then Penelope says, well some dreams are tricks and some are not. But Odysseus never correct me if I'm wrong, but I don't see that he ever really answers the question that Penelope asks about should I marry a suitor? I mean, he indirectly answers it by saying they're all going to get killed. But the other aspect of that is he's not upset that she's considering marrying a suitor, which is really interesting in light of the fact that she's portrayed as constant and loyal. And she even says she's going to arrange a contest with the suitors. Whoever can shoot the arrow through the axes, right, will win her hand. And Odysseus is like that's a great idea because Odysseus will arrive before that's finished to kill them all. And really he's thinking in his mind, of course this is a good setup for the impending slaughter. But he's not upset by the fact that it's seems to suggest that a suitor is still is a real option for her. Oh, Odysseus doesn't have to interpret the dream for her. The eagle comes back and interprets the dream from within the dream. The interpretation is coming from inside the dream. The geese of the suitors. I was once an eagle, but now I am your husband. Okay. 4:04 Erin: It's so difficult to say what Odysseus's psychology is and that's part of, maybe part of the appeal. But I think he is maybe giving her space for her ambivalence, if you will. He's wisely not saying anything because I think that this demonstrates a deep ambivalence that Penelope has about Odysseus homecoming which you know, as we've already said, Odysseus himself has about his own homecoming. And just as Odysseus tests her, she tests him. And so if anything I see this as a parallel between the two of them, but one in which, you know, interestingly, Odysseus own future kind of hangs, hangs in the balance or her desire for him hangs in the balance. But I like the fact that he doesn't say anything because of course she's right, I think to be she feels however she feels about it. But to the extent that we could say that a feeling is correct, I think she's correct to feel ambivalent about giving up the attentions. However, you know, at whatever cost they've come of a bunch of men for one man who has abandoned her and has been unfaithful all over the known 5:13 Wes: world with mortals and immortals. Maybe with. Yeah, I'm sure with both. But yeah. 5:19 Erin: And I also, you know, I'm also interested and I honestly don't know what to make of this, but I'm interested in this idea of the two types of dreams as well. I'm wondering if she is saying that this one comes out of the trickery kind of dream. 5:32 Wes: Yeah, maybe those three dance. 5:34 Erin: Yeah. She says stranger dreams are confusing and not all come true. There are two gates of dreams. One pair is made of horn and one of ivory. The dreams from ivory are full of trickery. Their stories turn out false. The ones that come through polished horn come true. But my strange dream did not come out that way. I think I wish it had, as does my son. 5:56 Wes: And then the axe contest. So she's basically saying, yeah, no, Odysseus isn't coming back. I'm going to do the. To contest to find a suitor. 6:04 Erin: But she's also, perhaps if she suspects that this guy is Odysseus, which I'm also of two minds of. She's giving herself an out for having the impure thought of, you know, desiring the suitors not to be killed. Right. Wanting them to stay, not wanting her husband to return. She's giving herself an out by saying that this is maybe the trickery dream, the dream that has no, no meaning behind it. Right. She's saying, well, it's just a dream. Right. It doesn't mean anything. And so it undercuts the whole reason for the conversation in the first place, which is to have Odysseus interpret it because that implies that there is some meaning to be interpreted. It's confusing because, as you say, it also interprets itself. I'm most interested, I think, in the fact that she is providing an out for her own ambivalence. And yeah, I guess that's it. But a secondary element is the distinction between the horn and the ivory, which I find really interesting. One comes out of the head. They're made of the same type of material, I believe. Right. Because ivory would be like a tusk or teeth and the horn would be made, I think, of fundamentally the same type of structure as listeners can correct me if I'm wrong, as a tusk, they can't be too different. They're both probably made of. 7:23 Wes: Well, they're at least similar. I mean, ivory, I think of elephant tusks and then horn, maybe on A ram or something. 7:31 Erin: Right. But I'm wondering if they're both made of the same type of collagen type. 7:37 Wes: Yeah, yeah. 7:38 Erin: Structure. Right. 7:39 Wes: I think they're. I mean, is it ultimately skin cells? The type of. The same, sort of. 7:44 Erin: But anyway, but I think it's, you know, they're similar to each other, but they come out of different parts of the head. Right. 7:52 Wes: Okay. 7:53 Erin: One, the horn, it's almost like Athena springing from the head of Zeus. Right. So the horn that comes out of the head, that one comes true. The one that comes through the mouth is one of trickery. I don't know. I think there's an interesting distinction being made here. But I don't want to put too fine a point on it. No pun intended, anyway. 8:17 Wes: But yeah, it's interesting that she would simply assume the dream is one of the false ones when it's so. So it's such a clean, obvious dream. So, you know, she doesn't psychologize her skepticism about the dream. Right. She gives a kind of mythology around it. But you know what you. Or I might say, well, that's just wishful thinking. But for her it came through the wrong gate. And then she says, she says, and then she has to go to the conclusion of the conversation is she's going to go to sleep. And she says this thing that I really like. Humans cannot stay awake forever. If you would sit and entertain me guest, I would never wish to go to sleep. But humans cannot stay awake forever. And then talks about her bed being stained with tears. And then the line about the use of the word Evilion for Troy. But no, I think all of it is interesting in light of your observation of the dreamlike quality of the repetition that Odysseus has been engaged in. Right. And the associations of dreams with wishes, which in a way is one might use to explain her skepticism about the geese dream. So does the dream merely express a wish or a repetition? Or does it tell us something about, you know, if not the future, about ourselves, at least if we can properly interpret it. Right. Which is something that the ancient Greeks do. They interpret dreams and they interpret a few times. In this poem, an eagle actually does swoop. What is it? A dove comes by with a dove in its claws. And that's supposed to be an omen each time Odysseus killing the suitors. 10:05 Erin: I like too what you're saying with calling attention to the birds reminds me we have in Odysseus dream slash story of the man from Crete. You know, it's a different island than Ithaca, but it's a similar kind of similar setup. Right. And, you know, are you an eagle or a goose? Are you from Ithaca or from Crete? Are you. You know, something I think we've already alluded to also is the fact that the suitors aren't necessarily doing anything that Odysseus himself wouldn't do in the same situation. Right. It's not like Odysseus has some kind of moral high ground. So there's a. There's an interesting kind of. Maybe it's this question that we talked about in the main episode of, like, can you just reinsert someone for Odysseus? Maybe that's at the heart of Penelope's question. If I'm married to an eagle, could I just as easily be married to a goose? You know, can Odysseus be replaced? Can Odysseus replace his own backstory as a man from Crete rather than a man from Ithaca? You know, so there's a question of, like, whether or not substitution suffices. That's at the heart maybe of both of these repetitions and iterations or dreamlike 11:14 Wes: variations, which is interesting in light of the fact that a lot of these tests involve these sort of key and lock type situations in which. Or maybe that's not the right metaphor. Exactly. But one is supposed to exhibit certain signs that only the other person could know. 11:32 Erin: Yes. 11:32 Wes: It happens again in the. The bed scene where Penelope will tell a little story about. Well, she doesn't tell the story. She will say, hey, move the bed or something like that for Eurycleia to make a bed for him and pull out the bedstead. And then Odysseus gets furious. He doesn't figure out that he's being tested and says, woman, your words have cut my heart. Who moved my bed? And tells the whole story of creating the bed around the trunk as a bedpost, in fact, building the whole house around that. Right. And the way it's put is that Penelope recognizes the tokens that he's provided 12:15 Erin: because this is the particularity to circumvent the. 12:20 Wes: The unsubstitutability. Yeah. And the lack of substitutability involves, of course, all of the prior experience that one has had with the person and the ways in which each of you, each person in the couple, has affected each other. They've been a formative force in each other's lives. And that fades in a way because they've been away from each other for so long. In a way, Penelope's weaving, which looks a little Bit like a repetition compulsion as well. Way of avoiding being subject to new formative forces which might turn her into a different person and so really might sever her from her husband in a way that physical distance just doesn't do by itself. 13:13 Erin: This very unsubstitutability, as you're saying, this is the cornerstone of the, you know, the comedies of remarriage that we've talked about in other episodes. This is the real root of my interest in. In those relationships is that they seem to, you know, like. Cavell makes this point in his book about these films. And this is something, too, that we've addressed in, like, at least in the Awful Truth episode, I think, his Girl Friday as well. He makes this point that the couple has to know each other, like, almost from childhood or nearly from childhood, right? They have to be this. Like each other's origin story that they make each other like Adam and Eve, right? Or Beatrice and Benedick in Much Ado where Beatrice says of Benedict, I know him of old, right? This idea that you have a history that predates the story in which the characters are occupying so that they go way, way back, back before we knew them. This, I think, contributes to the romance of the whole thing. Not that one needs to know one's partner from childhood or something like that, but it builds the two characters into each other in this way that you're talking about from a storytelling perspective. It makes them inextricably intertwined, like the bed and the house, because they try to substitute someone else in the place of the spouse, right? This is the part of the fun of the comedy of remarriage. But it doesn't fit. It's not this lock and key. It's about being in love just with this one particular person. And that even when you stray or you do all this other stuff, there is still nothing like that person. And that particularity and even the peculiarity of being so deeply attached to one other person in particular, I think is like, a contributing factor to what I see as like, the deep romance with a capital R at the end of this poem that's embedded in Odysseus and Penelope's story and which I think makes them like the first comedy of remarriage. You know, they have to, like, re. Recommit themselves to each other. It's exactly like the structure of the Shakespeare comedies and of the 30s and 40s films. 15:19 Wes: Ye…

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    Terminal Wooings in “The Odyssey” (Part 3 of 3) Oct 23, 2023
    Show notes

    Wes & Erin discuss the final 12 books of “The Odyssey.” Having learned the lessons of the murder of Agamemnon, Odysseus does not rush straight home to his wife and children, once he arrives at Ithaca. Athena is impressed–but why, exactly? Why is it that Odysseus feels the need to hide his identity, and put friends and family to the test? And after 20 years apart, how do Odysseus and Penelope reacquaint themselves with each other? Thanks to our sponsors for this episode St. John’s College, and Füm. Learn more about undergraduate–and graduate–Great Books programs at St. John’s in Santa Fe, New Mexico and Annapolis, Maryland at sjc.edu/subtext. Head to TryFum.com and use code SUBTEXT to save 10 percent off when you get the Journey pack today. Pre-order Erin’s forthcoming book “Avail” here: http://subtextpodcast.com/avail For bonus content, become a paid subscriber at Patreon or directly on the Apple Podcasts app. Patreon subscribers also get early access to ad-free regular episodes. Also from Wes: Curtain Times, a calendar of Boston theatre, classical, talks and readings. Follow:Twitter | Facebook | Website Transcript 0:12 Wes: Okay. We are in our part three discussion of the Odyssey. We got through books one through 12 in parts one and two, and now we're going to get through the final 12 books, all in the third part. Probably. Hopefully. 0:29 Erin: Probably 0:31 Wes: even if we have to rush, which is something Odysseus would never do. In fact, that's kind of the way I wanted to start this episode. Talking about the fact that instead of rushing to see his wife and family, he goes through a lot of disguises and testing, makes use of all his Odysseus powers for deception, I think even more so than he has in the previous 12 books. So even Athena remarks on this. She's very impressed with this. He's dropped off on Ithaca by Alcinous's people, the Phaeacian people. Their magic boat, basically self driving Tesla of boats drops them off. He's left on the coast in sheets. There's kind of Odysseus is reborn moment. And then Athena covers Ithaca in a mist so he won't recognize it immediately. And she herself shows up as a shepherd. He supplicates himself. Very usual thing. You got to touch their knees, right? If you ever get time transported back to ancient Greece, just remember to touch someone's knees first thing. And then he tells her a lie. She asks, you know, she's acting like she's a shepherd. She actually then tells him it's Ithaca and then asks where. What. What his story is. And he tells, and he, he tells like some variation on a. I think it's a different life story every time that he tells to people. Just some made up thing. But correct me if I'm wrong about that, but I think he's always from Crete in these stories. 2:04 Erin: Yeah, what he chooses to focus on is slightly different each time. It could potentially be like different, you know, different layers or iterations of the same story. Like I think if you lay them on top of each other, they line up in places. Certain places, not in others. 2:18 Wes: In this one he tells the story of having murdered someone. And then Athena gets excited, changes herself into the form of a beautiful woman, says, oh, aren't you so clever. I really love your ability to lie. And she tells him, you know, you're going to have to go incognito now. Ithaca. And Odysseus himself becomes skeptical that this is even Ithaca and complains about the fact that Athena didn't protect him when they were leaving Troy. This is an interesting part of the story. Athena loves Odysseus and is so on his side in the Odyssey, but she's responsible for the problems of the Greeks had leaving Troy. Here's what Athena finally says after complimenting him about his skepticism. An ordinary man would rush straight home to see his wife and children. You decided not even to ask about them until you test your wife. This is on page 327 of the Emily Emily Wilson translation. And then she lets him know that Penelope is loyal and that she has always been loyal as well. And that the only reason he's having to go all through all this is there's a delicate kind of dance with her brother Poseidon, who's pissed off at him. So he's going to have to suffer a lot. But you know, if Poseidon had his way, it would be even worse. First of all, it's interesting that how happy she is about the fact that instead of rushing home to see his wife and children, he's going to be cautious. Unlike Agamemnon, right? Who just waltzes straight up to little red carpet inviting him home and then is slaughtered at the feast. And yet he already knows Penelope is loyal. There'll be a lot of testing in this. He is going to test Penelope. Penelope is going to test him to see if he's actually Odysseus. What other testing is there? There's the sussing out of who's loyal among the slave women. And there's the fact that Eurycleia the nanny basically has to recognize him by his scar. But here's my question. Why not just go rush in except for planning, making a plan for the suitors. And the bulk of that plan is just that Athena is going to help fight them. Right. And ensure success. So I don't know why that has to be so sophisticated. So the question is, what role does all of this deception play in these last 12 books? Why is it necessary? 4:49 Erin: Yeah, it reminds me of, you know, Telemachus journey at the beginning when he learns that his father is still alive, sort of, you know, but we had the question about this, I think in the first episode of this series about why did Telemachus have to go through that whole little fact finding mission in the first place? When Nestor describes Agamemnon's fate and Orestes returning to avenge the murder of Agamemnon by killing Aegisthus. And I think he kind of belied the fact that Orestes also kills his own mother, Clytemnestra. The shadow story that kind of lurks over the whole Odyssey. One of the things that Nestor says when he tells this story to Telemachus, is that the moral is, like, don't stay away from home too long, you know, while the suitors are lurking in your house. And, you know, it's funny because it's Telemachus leaves for a blip compared to how long Odysseus has been away, allowing these suitors to lurk there. 5:49 Wes: Right? 5:50 Erin: And also, you know, we already know that Telemachus is unequal to the task of fending off the suitors on his own. He needs to wait for his father to return home. So ostensibly, it doesn't matter that Telemachus is missing. He goes on this trip, which is ultimately sort of fruitless, but he could stay away as long as he wants, because it doesn't matter, because he's not the one that can fight against the suitors. There's also this interesting moment with Mentor in book two that I was thinking of, in which Telemachus is told that it's rare for sons to be like fathers. Only if you are better, most are worse, I think is the line from book two, this idea of doing the unnecessary thing or taking the unnecessary journey or the long way around, if you will. I don't think that is ever for me, borne out with a kind of purpose. Like Athena tells us that Telemachus had to go through this trip because he had to gain confidence, right? At one point. That's the justification that she uses. And so I don't know if there's a rhyme there with Odysseus, that he has to gain a confidence in the situation, get his footing back home and suss people out for the same reason that he's kind of, you know, though he's not someone we would call lacking in confidence, that he has to make sure that he can trust the people who he wants to trust and gain confidence in other people's fidelity to him. But for me, the most interesting part of these deceptions is the story that he tells about himself that changes each time. That the deception allows him to come up with this changing story about this other identity that I find really interesting. And that's something that maybe we could talk about in a second, but I don't know that I have an answer to why he has to test everybody out in the first place, except for the opportunity that it gives us to. Much like Telemachus, right? Telemachus, his little journey gives us, the reader, the listener, the opportunity to hear what's going on with Menelaus, what's going on with Nestor. You know, you have all these kind of side journeys. And in a way that's repeated a little bit with Odysseus, where it feels like vamping, you know, because we just want him to go in and kill the suitors already, and we don't want him to tell another story. But I think that those stories that are embedded in each one of these lies about his identity are interesting in and of themselves and in a way are repeating some of those elements of the Telemachus journey for me. 8:21 Wes: So, yeah, so what he has to do is to test people so he doesn't end up like Agamemnon. But of course, in a way that's. That's all short circuited by Athena, who tells him that Penelope is loyal and tells him about the suitors. And in fact, she does that in this, in book 13, right, when he gets to Ithaca. And then he says, talks about, oh, I would have died like Agamemnon. And then she disguises him as an old beggar. And then she says, I'll go fetch Telemachus. And then you just refer to this. And she says. And he says to her, why didn't you tell him I was alive? Why did you let him go on this journey? And she says, well, for the glory of it. Yes, and the suitors are plotting to kill him, but they're not going to succeed. So the role of the gods, and Athena in particular, seems to undercut the more realistic aspects of his deviousness or the utility of his deviousness, or the necessity of it, however you want to put it. But I wanted to go back to his complaint to Athena that she hadn't protected him. So he says on page 327, when we Greeks had sacked the town of Priam and we embarked. Oh, Priam, which Penelope, by the way, in Emily Wilson's translation, calls Evilium Priam. And we embarked, and gods dispersed our fleet. I did not see you there on. On board my ship, daughter of Zeus. You gave me no protection. 9:55 Erin: She says, you're. You're smart. And I. That's why I can't leave you whenever you need my help, right? 10:02 Wes: That's what she says. At first, yeah. Well, no. And then she says. So she does that stuff about him being smart and you not, you know, not going straight home to see the wife and children. And then she says, but I did not want to conflict with my father's brother Poseidon, who resented you because you blinded his beloved son. Now I will show you Ithaca. So you believe. And she ends up lifting the mist. 10:24 Erin: So that's A really interesting moment, by the way. I find that so interesting because, you know, that's a. That move, that godly move of, you know, showing you something so you believe in, you know, the Judeo Christian tradition. That would be like revealing, performing a miracle. Right. Doing something that would. Would beggar belief under ordinary circumstances. Right. But increasing the faith of someone who's maybe, you know, doubting by showing them an indication of something that's supernatural. And instead she's showing him where he is. Right. She's hidden it in the first place and then is revealing Ithaca to him. But it's not like she's performing some sort of supernatural deed. Right. Like, I'm thinking of the moment early on where she transforms into. Is it an eagle or a hawk? I can't remember. Some bird. Right. And flies away. She does that in front of Telemachus. Right. So that would be in the Judeo Christian tradition, more in keeping with the kind of revelation that would happen under Judeo Christian sort of miracles in which. Right. Like something incredible happens here. It's turned on its head where she's unnecessarily covered it in mist and. And then just reveals it to him that Ithaca is Ithaca. 11:46 Wes: Well, even more interestingly, she's covered it in the mist. And I, before rereading it and taking notes, I remembered the mist lasting for longer. Cause I thought it had something to do with his staying in disguise. There's another. There's a previous episode where she. I think it's the Phaeacians, where she kind of hides him from people so he can get through town. So I think I was confusing it with that. But yeah, this is very brief. But interestingly, she puts the mist on, makes herself a shepherd, and then changes herself into a woman. So he does see one sort of obvious miracle happen, but he's still skeptical. So even Athena is being tested and he says, this can't be Ithaca. And that's when she compliments him about not rushing home to his wife and children. And when she lifts the mist and shows him where he is, then he kind of rejoices. Oh, this really is Ithaca. So she's passing his test. These tests are all about recognition. Are you who you say you are? Well, on the one hand, are you who you say you are? And are you trustworthy? Which in a way is a way of saying you are who you used to be. So I've been away for 20 years, right. Is Penelope actually the person that she was when I left? She could be an entirely different person. I mean, Penelope has to figure out if it's really Odysseus like everyone else. And a scar is good enough. But again, he's testing everyone's trust, even though Athena is Athena, she doesn't really need to be tested. And then she's sort of the guarantor, the underwriter, everyone else, their loyalty, who it is they are. So again, as we've mentioned, this is all kind of all of the testing happens in the context of it seeming to be excessive. Unless you want to think of it as a ritual or I think another way of thinking about it is just getting to know people again, getting to know home again, a transition or an emotional working through of the potential trauma, returning home after all these years. So in other words, Odysseus is not just going to pull the band aid off, whether it comes to getting revenge or to reestablishing his relationships. He even does this with Laertes after the suitors are dead. Right. Does he really need. And he kind of teases his father, oh, who owns you, slave? You really have stopped taking care of yourself. Until he cries and Odysseus takes pity. 14:28 Erin: Yeah, that's a pretty sick moment. 14:30 Wes: Yeah. Maybe this will get clearer as we look at other parts of these last 12 books. But that getting to know you thing could be an aspect of this getting to re know you. 14:43 Erin: Something that bears out. Your point is, when she does, or rather before she disperses the mist, she says, now I will show you Ithaca. So you believe this is the Bay of Four Phorcys. Okay, this is the Bay of Phorcys, ancient sea God. And at the head there is an olive tree with long leaves. And nearby, the shady cave sacred to nymphs called Nereids, to whom you sacrifice so many hundred cattle. And here is Neritan, or Narraton, the wooded mountain. With that, the goddess made the mist disperse. The land was visible. And then he sees it and is filled with happiness. But prior, you know, she primes him, you know, she's telling him before she actually lifts the mist, she's telling him what to expect or what to see or what to look for for confirmation. But it's also must be pulling up an image in his mind of familiar landmarks for him to look for. So, you know, I think that provides some evidence for what you're saying, that this is like, you know, he has to be prepared to. To recognize what's right in fro…

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    Foolish Adventures in “The Odyssey” (Part 2 of 3) Sep 25, 2023
    Show notes

    Wes & Erin continue their discussion of the Odyssey, translated by Emily Wilson. In this episode, part 2 of our 3-part series, they look closely at the heart of the poem, books 5-12, in which Odysseus arrives in Phaeacia and provides the tale-within-the-tale of his adventures after the Trojan War. They discuss the significance of Odysseus’s fantastical encounters and asking what they might reveal both about his character and about the nature of our own progress—through times of safety, complacency, excitement, danger, and loss—as we wend our way back home. Thanks to our sponsors for this episode, Factor, St. John’s College, and Füm. Head to factormeals.com/subtext50 and use code subtext50 to get 50 percent off. Learn more about undergraduate–and graduate–Great Books programs at St. John’s in Santa Fe, New Mexico and Annapolis, Maryland at sjc.edu/subtext. Head to TryFum.com and use code SUBTEXT to save 10 percent off when you get the Journey pack today. Pre-order Erin’s forthcoming book “Avail” here: http://subtextpodcast.com/avail For bonus content, become a paid subscriber at Patreon or directly on the Apple Podcasts app. Patreon subscribers also get early access to ad-free regular episodes. Also from Wes: Curtain Times, a calendar of Boston theatre, classical, talks and readings. Follow:Twitter | Facebook | Website Transcript 0:12 Erin: Today we're continuing our discussion of the Odyssey, translated by Emily Wilson. In this episode, part two of our three part series, we're looking closely at the heart of the poem, books 5 through 12, in which Odysseus arrives in Phaeacia and provides the tale within the tale of his adventures after the Trojan War. We're discussing the significance of Odysseus fantastical encounters and asking what they might reveal both about his character and about the nature of our own progress through times of safety, complacency, excitement, danger and loss as we wend our way back home. This is Erin O'Luanaigh. 0:49 Wes: And this is Wes Alwan. 0:51 Erin: And you're listening to Subtext. We're back for part two of our discussion of the Odyssey. It was originally going to be a two part discussion. It's now been extended. It's gotten bloated into a three part discussion for good reason, I think. We spent last time between the main episode and the postscript talking about the first four books up through the end of book four. We talked about Helen and Menelaus in book four and also Proteus, I believe in the postscript we discussed Proteus. And so today's episode, our goal is to get from books five to 12. And then in a part three episode, we'll do the back 12 books. So today we're talking about all of Odysseus's many travels and stories of his 1:41 Wes: travels, his crazy adventures. 1:44 Erin: So his crazy adventures. Those wild and crazy guys. Okay. 1:49 Wes: Book five starts in an interesting way because in a way it recapitulates the very beginning, which is it returns us to Mount Olympus and Athena pleading with Zeus. Right. 2:06 Erin: Like this whole conversation has gone on perhaps during the whole Telemachiad. We return to the previous story thread, which is Athena on. 2:14 Wes: It's an interesting frame. It'll never make sense. The gods will never make any sense. There's no consistent psychology or it's difficult to figure out why. Why they. They do what they do. But they, you know, they do have some interesting conversations at certain points. So Athena starts out by saying, let's read a little bit of this book five in the second stanza, I guess you call it Father and all immortal gods. She said, no longer let a sceptered king be kind or gentle, or pay heed to right and wrong. Let every king be cruel, his acts unjust. Odysseus ruled gently, like a father, but no one even thinks about him now. And then she goes on to talk about he's stranded on an island with Calypso forcing him to stay there. So Athena is becoming a little bit of a nihilist at this point. Poor Odysseus shows you that being good just doesn't pay. But of course that's not actually Odysseus reputation. And at certain points in the book, and this is something Emily Wilson points out, the translator, when we learn why it is that Athena actually likes Odysseus, it's because he is crafty and deceptive and good in ways of war and all that stuff. So when I say it'll never make any sense, the fact that something is framed here in terms of justice and kindness, you know, that happens at times, but it's not the overall gist of what normative framework for the gods. It's just kind of a kind of randomly shift. So if you think about metamorphosis and shape shifting, that the whole normative frame or terrain or domain is always shifting, I think between something that recognizable as justice and morality to us, or to something that's more akin to an honor society or the valuation of pure evaluation of power or violence or intelligence or strength. A bunch of different conflicting values, except insofar as they are forms of power and excellence. So pre moral in a way. So I guess what I'm trying to say is that if you took Nietzsche's two scales of valuation, one, the extra moral as in the standing outside of morality, the blond beast form of valuation beyond good and evil, just all about power and excellence. And then something more akin to the Christian scale of values, something again that we would recognize as morality. Both those systems are at work here and there's no clear way to say which one is going to predominate at any different moment. 4:58 Erin: Yeah, I hadn't thought much about this moment, but you're really making me see how interesting it is. It's interesting too that Athena is acting as a kind of mediatrix to her father in this moment. There's a little bit maybe of kind of anti job logic going on here, right. Like this is a sort of counterpoint. Like I was thinking, you know, with all of Odysseus trials and tribulations, how it sort of runs parallel to, but also counter to the Job story in the Old Testament. And I was thinking too about what you said in the last episode about Odysseus having that kind of twin nature of. How did you put it? It was really good. I can't. I can'. Remember now, like brains and. 5:37 Wes: Brains and brawn. 5:38 Erin: Brains and brawn. Yeah, yeah. Brains and brawn. 5:40 Wes: Is that it? Okay. 5:41 Erin: Yeah. I was thinking about this in relationship to. Well, actually, I think Wilson, too, brings this up in her introduction. I wrote down a couple of great quotes from her. She talks about this in relation to Athena, where she says, Athena's skill in weaving clothing for domestic use sits uneasily with her ability to weave deception and military strategy for the tapestry of war. And then in another section, Wilson compares or contrasts Odysseus's craftiness and Penelope's. So. And I think this is worth reading aloud too, because it's something I'd like to talk about at length, perhaps later. But she's talking about Penelope's craftiness with unweaving the shroud. The shroud with which she's delaying the suitors. And Wilson writes, this delaying tactic shows her Penelope's capacity for deceptive storytelling, a quality shared by her husband, as well as her technical skill in weaving, which is analogous to her husband's competence as a construction worker. The things Odysseus constructs, such as the wooden horse, his raft to get away from Calypso and his bed, are finished and are supposed to remain finished. Penelope's weaving is designed to be undone. Moreover, whereas the deceptive plots of Odysseus are geared towards a particular end, to invade a city, to reach his home, or to destroy the suitors, the deceptive plot of Penelope serves in the opposite direction to hold off an endpoint, to avoid the end of the story. It is meant to be forever in a state of becoming, not completion. I'm interested in that. And we could talk about that more, I think, in part three, in terms of what it reveals about Penelope's psychology. I'm just thinking about how, with Athena's emphasis here on, for instance, the fact that no one even thinks about Odysseus. Now you can have all these great qualities, as you've already suggested, the desire for power and things like that are maybe the great qualities that Athena finds interesting and excellent in Odysseus. I think I see more and more that Odysseus is brawn because of this craftiness, which has this literal construction element to it. Like he's kind of constructs his plot via these made things that he puts together. It's almost like his brawn is just his brains sort of externalized. And Athena's emphasis here on the externalization of his circumstances, where the concern is about proper tribute being paid, the concern is about hospitality and getting really good gifts from your host, not just in the satisfactions of Virtue. But to have these external gifts, to get attention, to get favor, all of these things which are about accumulating power, stature for oneself and status are the things that Athena's really concerned about. And those are the things in this moment that she's concerned are being depleted from Odysseus. Right. Not necessarily his goodness, though she kind of pays lip service to that to a certain extent. And I think that kind of is interesting in that it runs in counterpoint to the Job story as well. Right. Whereas Job loses everything. And the concern is supposed to be just for his soul and his character. And with Athena, it's about. Even in terms of the gods, it's about this losing the status and wanting to accumulate power in this Nietzschean way I think, that you're describing. Does that make sense? 8:55 Wes: Yeah, it shifts back and forth between some seeming concern with the ethical and the just, and then the concern with status and power. You know, when she says that no one thinks about him now, it's manifestly untrue. She's thinking about him. She's getting Zeus to think about him. Poseidon is pissed off at him, which explains why he is in the trouble that he's in, and she respects that. There's a point where she is reticent about intervening because she doesn't want to anger her brother Poseidon. Telemachus is thinking about him. He's searching for him, as Athena will mention later on, which leads. Or is it Zeus who mentions him now? It's Zeus who brings up Telemachus and says, use your skill to help him to come home alive. And then Penelope, of course, is the whole weaving and unweaving that you mentioned and leading suitors on, but not ever giving into one of them. It reflects the fact that she has not accepted his death. Everyone is waiting on him, even Telemachus, who will repeatedly say, odysseus must be dead. And who else says, odysseus must be dead all the time? Seems like there's someone else. Anyway, it seems like everyone's always talking about, Odysseus must be dead. Odysseus must be dead. And now Athena's. No one's thinking about him. But everyone is waiting. They're waiting for. Oh, they're waiting on Odysseus. 10:14 Erin: Yes. 10:15 Wes: So this is one of. When I say that the gods are never gonna make any sense. This is part of what I mean. It's not just the two ethical frameworks. It's just the kinds of contradictions that just crop up even within a single stanza, which Is, which is not just entirely random, I think, as we'll continue to see, but reflects something of what the divine realm means for the ancient Greeks. 10:39 Erin: In this stanza in particular, maybe it just highlights the fact that yes, there's an emphasis on goodness or virtue, but not for its own sake, right? Purely as a means to glory or remembrance. I like the fact that you point out that Poseidon is thinking a lot about him too. It's like both sides of positive and negative attention, I guess, are good. They're both attention for Odysseus. And I'm wondering if this is a mirror, the fact that people are thinking of him either because they love him or because they hate him. I wonder if this mirrors Odysseus own conflict, which I think we have yet to talk about, which is this idea that maybe he doesn't really want to go home. He has both positive and negative feelings about making actual progress in his journey, which I think is manifested in the. We could call it gently call it like a stop start journey or movement home. One step forward, two steps back, something like that. 11:31 Wes: Odysseus will say in book nine about Calypso that she held him for a while but never really swayed his heart because there's nothing sweeter when you're far away from home. There's nothing sweeter than one's native land and family. Now what happens when you're actually at home and have been with them for a while, that's another thing. But as long as you're away from them, then of course the absence makes the heart grow fonder. So I think that's part of the paradox of the ambivalence about getting home. And of course there's lots of stuff, you know, in the chapters that we're talking about today about home and the meaning of it, right? The island of the lotus eaters, his men, right, Eat the lotus and it makes them forgetful. And then specifically it makes them forget home, which is a kind of similar danger to what happens with the Sirens in book five. So I want to look at this specifically because this kind of speaks to both of these points, one about home and then the one about the gods must be crazy point that I'm making. So this is around page 186 in this translation where Calypso has been visited by Hermes. Athena sends Hermes to say, okay, Calypso, you gotta let go of Odysseus. And she's not happy about that, calls the gods cruel and jealous. But by the time we get to page 186 she's aligned herself with that mandate and even describes feeling pity, which is kind of odd, right? Because in the before Hermes visit, he's really just a mortal plaything. She's a cat playing with her toy. And there's no indication of any possibility of feeling. And then there's this divine intervention, and suddenly she's capable of pity. And then she asks him a question about home. So she says, this is at the bottom of 1:86. Odysseus, son of Laertes, blessed by Zeus. Your plans are always changing. Do you really want to go back to that home you love so much? Well, then, goodbye. But if you understood how glutted you will be with suffering before you reach your home, you would stay here with me and be immortal. Though you might still wish to see that wife you always pined for. And anyway, I know my body is better than hers is. I'm taller too. Mortals can never rival the immortals in beauty. And he says, well, yeah, you're right, your body is better than her. But I still want to go back home. And then after he says that, then they have sex. 13:59 Erin: I know. Just for old time's sake. 14:01 Wes: Yeah, it's like, okay, let's finish up here. I still do want to go home. So I think the alternative, as it's presented here, is between the perfect specimen, the woman who really is not just metaphorically a goddess, but really is a goddess and has the perfect body. And what about her soul? Well, it's unclear, right? I was thinking of her as someone who didn't have much of a conscience and then suddenly did. But in this stanza. Am I using the word stanza? Right? I think you would. 14:32 Erin: Yeah, I think so. 14:33 Wes: Call these stanzas. You know, in this stanza, she's acting like this is his decision, right? And I think we're always meant to wo…

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    Home as Identity in “The Odyssey” Aug 28, 2023
    Show notes

    He was famously a man of many ways, whether we interpret these as abilities or norms; designs or deceptions; reasons or identities. Yet despite such resources, he was also famously stuck, making a 10-year odyssey of his attempt to return home from a 10-year war. What keeps the man of master plans from homecoming and domestic bliss? In the first of a three part discussion of Homer’s classic, Wes & Erin try to figure out what Odysseus really wants, and whether the “lord of lies” can master the trick of entrusting his mind to others. Thanks to our sponsors for this episode, Factor and The Inner Loop Radio. Head to factormeals.com/subtext50 and use code subtext50 to get 50 percent off. Subscribe to Inner Loop at https://www.theinnerlooplit.org/radio. Pre-order Erin’s forthcoming book “Avail” here: http://subtextpodcast.com/avail For bonus content, become a paid subscriber at Patreon or directly on the Apple Podcasts app. Patreon subscribers also get early access to ad-free regular episodes. Also from Wes: Curtain Times, a calendar of Boston theatre, classical, talks and readings. Follow:Twitter | Facebook | Website Transcript 0:11 Wes: He was famously a man of many ways, whether we interpret these as abilities or norms, designs or deceptions, ruses or character tropes. Yet despite such resources, he was also famously stuck making a 10 year odyssey of his attempt to return home from a 10 year war. What keeps the man of master plans from homecoming and domestic bliss? In the first of a three part discussion of Homer's classic, we try to figure out what Odysseus really wants and whether the Lord of Lies can master the trick of entrusting his mind to others. This is Wes Alwan, this is Erin O'Luanaigh, and you're listening to Subtext. So today we are discussing The Odyssey first 12 books and the first 12 books. And we're doing the Emily Wilson translation. And we've actually discussed this translation on my other podcast, the Partially Examined Life. We had her on to discuss it, which was, which was interesting. And you know, when I started reading this translation, I'm used to Fitzgerald, which is a very. There's a lot of license taken with that translation and I'd even memorize a little bit of that as a kid and then I'd memorize some of the Greek as well. Although looking at the Greek this time, it's like if I get a Loeb out and there's English on one side and there's Greek on the other, I can make some things out, but it's such difficult Greek to try to translate. You know, when I first encountered her translation, because it's so different and it's different because it's much simpler syntactically than most translations. And I was a little bit weirded out by that in the beginning. But then I found the translation to be so readable that it actually increased is the enjoyment of reading it a lot. It's much easier to read than say a Fitzgerald or many of these other translations. And you see the difference where these other translations are. They're often a little bit archaic, maybe a bit ornate or they're. Sometimes they're archaic just because they've been translated a long time ago. Sometimes they're archaic because they're trying to match syntactic formality of the Greek or something like that. Which is not to say, by the way, that she isn't herself taking license. She's taking a lot of license here and she's leaving things out. And it's quite a loose translation in some ways, but I think that's okay. She's trying to capture the essence of it. I'm Beginning this way, just because I was curious about what your history with the text is, what translations you've read and why you suggested this translation in particular and what you thought of her translation compared to the others. 2:45 Erin: You know, I had this translation on my reading list for the summer. It was suggested to me, you know, that I might try it out. I had been, I think the Fagles was my first translation. Maybe some combination of Fitzgerald and Fagles, but I really partial to the Fagles, I think, because that ended up being what I read in college. And it just had a big impression on me. I think it was. It maybe opened, you know, one of my freshman year literature courses with a really wonderful professor who, you know, we spent, I think, like, two weeks just. And we barely got through the first, like, hundred lines of book one. I loved the Fagles. I thought I would try this. I really came around on this at first. I was like, oh, this is so. I found it flat, I think, or like, I could really hear the iambic pentameter. It was like both flat and sing songy. I thought, I think that because of my familiarity with the Fagles or my partiality, I wasn't able to kind of get into the music of it. And so I had actually told a friend, like, oh, I'm reading the Emily Wilson translation, but I really want to switch back to the Fagles. And then, I don't know, something happened, like, around book four, maybe, like, as soon as you get it into the Odysseus stuff. I think, you know, Telemachus is always a little tiresome. But as soon as I got into it or it just took me. 4:00 Wes: He's such a baby. 4:01 Erin: He is. You know, maybe it just took me a little, you know, a few books to acclimate myself to the translation. But then I really started to love it. And I started to feel that the poetry has a really pristine, kind of stark beauty. And I appreciate the fact that the idiom is more contemporary. And. Yeah, I just. I really loved it. And at a certain point, I mean, you can actually sit and read this, you know, in a couple of days. I mean, only for sheer length, would you not be able to read it, like, in one sitting. Right. But, you know, it's really a page turner in this translation. 4:34 Wes: Yeah. So I had very, very similar experience to you. Everything you just described, and down to the whole book four, you know, and then page turner and all that stuff. 4:43 Erin: Yeah. I was even talking about it with a friend on the phone who was like, oh, I was thinking of Rereading the Odyssey this summer, it was like, don't read the Wilson. I'm not liking it. I had to text her and say, I take it back. You know, 4:55 Wes: I would never say it's the only. You know, I would recommend reading it and then. But I wouldn't recommend this be the only translation you read. Sure, if you want something which is a little bit truer to the Greek. 5:07 Erin: I was having lunch with a friend yesterday, and he wants to read Anna Karenina. He knows that's my favorite novel. So he said, you know, what translation would you recommend? You know, I know nothing about Russian, obviously, so I can't speak to that, but I have read several different translations, you know, and I know what my experience. 5:22 Wes: I hope we agree on this, because I'm very opinionated about this, but go ahead. 5:25 Erin: Oh, okay. I actually surprised myself because I said, the Pevear Volokhonsky translation. And I said, you know, I think that that is better for right now for, like, for someone just getting into it. I said, because I think that if you read something in a more contemporary idiom, you have more of the experience of there's more nakedness about the book or a kind of not nakedness, a kind of. There's less opacity and more clarity where you're having a more direct experience, I think. And I said that the Constance Garnett, you know, that has passages in it that I remember vividly, lines out of. Out of that Constance Garnett translation, and that was the one that I cut my teeth on. It reminds me of what you're talking about with memorizing the Fitzgerald, you know, So I revered the Constance Garnett translation, but now I find myself in this position of recommending the Pevear Volokhonsky as, like, a gateway for, you know, especially for an older reader, because the Garnett gives you this sense of, like, oh, this is a grand old novel. You know, this is a. Whatever. Shaggy, baggy monster, whatever the expression is. And that can be fun, you know, and it has a certain austerity or grandeur about it. But I think just recommending it to my friend in terms of, like, what would give him the experience of really coming to Anna Karenina, but just coming to it for the first time and experiencing it almost the way a contemporary would in a contemporary idiom, I think is maybe for me, at this point, worth more, which is why I recommended the Pevear Volokhonsky and why this Emily Wilson translation, maybe it affected my recommendation. 6:57 Wes: Yeah, all right, well, we're going to have to fight about that when we do the Anna Karenina or some other Russian, because I consider Constance Garnett far superior. And I don't like Pevear Volokhonsky. And I'll send you some. We had a big fight about this on PEL, and we were doing the Brothers Karamazov, and because Dylan preferred, you know, Pevear Volokhonsky to Constance Garnett. And then I tried to convince everyone with very. With specific passage comparisons. And then I found. I went out and I found someone who written this very angry polemic in which they crapped all over Pevear and showed how Garnett was better. And then I was very. 7:37 Erin: Because of the Russian. 7:38 Wes: But. Well, both in a way, because Garnett is rhythmically in the way. She's just a better writer than these guys in English. And the way those two do it, you know, one of them, you know, he knows Russian, but he's, you know, his wife is fluent in Russian. He's fluent in English, and, you know, he does a rough translation and then she corrects things based on. Anyway, I just find it. I find it very confusing to read them, but I find it much harder, actually, to read. And some of the passages are not even. They don't even capture the meaning correctly. But I'll send that article. We don't, unfortunately. 8:11 Erin: Sorry, we already had a. 8:15 Wes: But we will. We will have this. 8:16 Erin: Pardon the word. We already had a Herculean task ahead of us covering the Odyssey or just the first 12 books. And now I've gotten us off course. 8:23 Wes: But back to this question of translation. So she is as far as the meaning sometimes, and then just as far as the way, the sound of the language. She's quite different than the original. And not that you can capture the sound of the original exactly, but just the syntactic complexity. So, for instance, in the beginning. Shall we read the stanza by stanza, by the way? 8:45 Erin: Yeah, right. We'll be done sometime in 2030. 8:49 Wes: I'll read a little bit of the first stanza. Tell me about a complicated man, Muse. Tell me how he wandered and was lost when he had wrecked the holy town of Troy and where he went and who he met, the pain he suffered in the storms at sea and how he worked to save his life and bring his men back home. He failed to keep them safe, poor fools. They ate the sun God's cattle and the God kept them from home. Now, goddess, child of Zeus, tell the old story for our modern times. Find the beginning. 9:18 Erin: Spoiler alert. 9:19 Wes: I'll give you first. Yeah, seriously. So let me give you this old Loeb translation, I forget the name of the translator, but some of it is quite archaic. But it's also much truer to the Greek. So tell me, O Muse, of the man of many devices who wandered full many ways after he had sacked the sacred citadel of Troy, Many were the men whose cities he saw and whose mind he learned, ay, and many the woes he suffered in his heart upon the sea, seeking to win his own life and the return of his comrades. I want to read the rest of it. And then the original Greek. 9:50 Erin: Oh, that's actually nice. 9:52 Wes: Yeah, yeah, the original Greek. Andromoianipa musa. Polutropon haus mala polyplankthe epetroyes hieron tole ethron epe epperson polon de anthropon iden astea kaino on engno. That's the comparison just at the level of how things sound and then just getting a little bit into the meaning. So this word complicated, this is like a famous. This could be a discussion for the whole episode, and maybe it will be. But that word translates polytropon, like polytropos, many ways is the way that Fitzgerald translates it. And the man of many devices is the way I had it in the Loeb translation. And I was just thinking about, well, how would I go about this as a translator? How would I try to capture that one word? Because it has several different connotations. One of them is just about the fact that he knows a lot of different things and that he's resourceful, that he can get himself out of a scrape in a way, like being a Renaissance man or a Jack of all trades. The other thing is his ability to be. To disguise his ability to trick his cunningness, that he's a little bit slick, you know, he's willing to lie. And I couldn't think of actually got the thesaurus out and thought about it. And the words multifaceted or many sided, I thought might work because, you know, many ways I like what Fitzgerald did there, but it's not idiomatic. Right. In our language. How do you capture it in English in a way that captures the most of the connotations. So Wilson with complicated is interesting, right? Because what do we mean when we say someone is complicated? 11:45 Erin: First of all, polytropon. I'm guessing that's, you know, the way that trope we get from that. 11:51 Wes: The man of many tropes. 11:53 Erin: Yeah, exactly. I mean, I like that. I mean, polytropon is, you know, that's almost been directly imported into our Language. And I like the idea of, like, there's something about talkiness in that, or talking your way around something, you know, using different tropes to express meaning in different ways. I like Many Ways because it also captures the wandering in itself. Complicated. I'm trying to think about. So what? That's Latin. So, like, to fold together. Right. That's off the top of my head. If I'm getting that wrong, then I'm sorry. 12:30 Wes: What does plicated come from? 12:34 Erin: It's plicare. To fold. This is. My goodness. If I have this right. I'm so proud of myself because it's been since junior year of high school that I had Latin. But. Yeah. So folded together, complicated maybe works actually for me. 12:49 Wes: I think you're right. Yeah. 12:51 Erin: You know, so that has what? That has entanglement, etymologically speaking? If that's correct, then it has entanglement. It has a folded togetherness that almost reminds me of the Trojan horse itself. Right. I like anything that emphasizes the craftiness as well, because crafty also kind of has this multivalent sense in which you're sly, but you're also, like, crafty, like, physically handy. And what I like in Odysseus is the fact that these things come together. So anything that emphasizes the various threads of his personality or that captures as many of them together, I think I'm convincing myself that complicated works, even if it is a Latin origin rather than something else. 13:35 Wes: My only beef with it is that the connotation in English often has something to do with someone being conflicted or brooding or something like that. I was actually watching Bottle Rocket last night, if you've seen that movie. And, yeah, it had been a long time for me, and I didn't. I hate most Wes Anderson movies, actually. But I enjoyed this. I enjoyed it a lot when I saw it. I enjoyed it less this time. But there's a point in the movie where the Luke Wilson character, who's recently been in a mental hospital, he's being asked by a pretty young woman about that experience. And he doesn't lie about it, as y…

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    Competing Affections in “The Lion in Winter” Jul 31, 2023
    Show notes

    Before Henry VIII changed history for lack of a son, Henry II had too many. His eldest, Richard, a fierce soldier who controls the wealthy Aquitaine, is the favorite of his mother, Eleanor. The youngest, John, is immature and dull, but his father’s favorite. And the middle son, scheming Geoffrey, is, quite dangerously, no one’s favorite. In the end, there are no winners; competing affections and power schemes serve only to cancel each other out. Is it true then, as this story suggests, that being a favorite amounts to nothing more than a target on one’s back, as its benefits are counteracted by the destructive envy of the disfavored? What drives our own propensities for favoritism? And does occupying any position in the pecking order entail, in Eleanor’s words, learning to live with disappointment? Wes & Erin discuss the 1968 film “The Lion in Winter,” starring Peter O’Toole and Katharine Hepburn. Thanks to our sponsors for this episode, Factor and The Inner Loop Radio. Head to factormeals.com/subtext50 and use code subtext50 to get 50 percent off. Subscribe to Inner Loop at https://www.theinnerlooplit.org/radio. Pre-order Erin’s forthcoming book “Avail” here: http://subtextpodcast.com/avail For bonus content, become a paid subscriber at Patreon or directly on the Apple Podcasts app. Patreon subscribers also get early access to ad-free regular episodes. Also from Wes: Curtain Times, a calendar of Boston theatre, classical, talks and readings. Follow:Twitter | Facebook | Website Transcript 0:11 Erin: Before Henry VIII changed history for lack of a son, Henry II had too many. His eldest, Richard, a fierce soldier who controls the wealthy Aquitaine, is the favorite of his mother, Eleanor. The youngest, John, is immature and dull, but his father's favorite. And the middle son, scheming Geoffrey, is quite dangerously no one's favorite. In the end, there are no winners. Competing affections and power schemes serve only to cancel each other out. Is it true, then, as this story suggests, that being a favorite amounts to nothing more than a target on one's back as its benefits are counteracted by the destructive envy of the disfavored? What drives our own propensities for favoritism? And does occupying any position in the pecking order entail, in Eleanor's words, learning to live with disappointment? Today we're discussing the 1968 film the lion in Winter, starring Peter O' Toole and Katharine Hepburn. This is Erin O'Luanaigh. And this is Wes Alwan, and you're listening to Subtext. Wes, I have a piece of trivia for you. You probably know that there was a remake of the lion in Winter with Patrick Stewart and Glenn Close in 2003, I think is the year. Did you know about that remake? 1:23 Wes: I did not know that. 1:24 Erin: Oh, okay. Well, that's not even the piece of trivia I have for you. The further piece of trivia I have is that it was also adapted into a TV series in the early 2000s. 1:33 Wes: Wow. 1:34 Erin: Called Arrested Development. 1:38 Wes: Oh, yeah. I didn't think about that. 1:40 Erin: I feel like we're John is Buster. That's perfect. I didn't even think of that. Yeah. Helenor. Helenor, sure. Yeah. Henry and Eleanor are obviously George and Lucille, and Lucille really doesn't care for any of her children, but she especially doesn't care for Gob, I feel like. And Gob is Geoffrey. So I was just thinking about the similarities between this story and so many others that we've covered on the podcast. Like Arrested Development is, of course, a through line throughout the pod, but there are obvious parallels here, too. I was thinking of who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? And. 2:13 Wes: Oh, yeah, I thought of that. 2:15 Erin: And especially Lear. Of course. Henry himself says that he's a Lear figure in the film. And at one point, I actually thought of There Will Be Blood, which is hopefully a movie we'll cover on the podcast at some point when he says he has no boys or whatever reminded me of that part when Daniel Day Lewis is in the revival meeting and he's like, I've abandoned my boy. It was very similar. 2:38 Wes: I think Geoffrey, though, would be Michael. Just as far as personalities go. Kind of more reserved, cerebral advisor role. And then you have Richard, who will be Richard the Lionhearted, who is the warrior and. And sometimes the one with the brawn and. Right. Well, that's what Mommy taught him. 2:59 Erin: That's right. 3:00 Wes: It's not the way things worked out ultimately. Yeah, he did not succeed at that. But I guess there's no equivalent of that in Arrested Development. Maybe I'm spending too much time on this. This comparison, though, you know, it's a similar thing in the Brothers Karamazov. Right, with Ivan the brains and Dmitri the warrior, the brawn, the passion. And then Alyosha the religious one. Who does that correspond to? John, incidentally, is the Will turn out to be the. The Magna Carta. Right. And the John who's the villain in Robin Hood. 3:33 Erin: History of England. Yeah. 3:34 Wes: Yeah. And the John who's the villain in Robin Hood and the way he's portrayed in the film is as this extreme moron whose mouth is often just agape no matter what's going on. Very afraid, very stupid, very easily manipulated. And for some reason, the one that Henry apparently loves the most, and I don't know why that is exact. Why does Henry love Jon the most? Is it just because he's the least capable of scheming in a successful way? 4:08 Erin: Perhaps that was a preoccupation for me as I was watching. Because I just thought, you know, in a way, his favorite is Alys. Right? That's his favorite, like, pseudo child. I mean, there's a lot of strange, ancestral kinds of dynamics going on there. Because Alice, you know, she's kind of the Cordelia figure. If you're gonna do the Lear parallel. And if you're gonna do the arrested development parallel, maybe she's like Lindsay or something in that the father loves Lindsay best. Right. And she has that. You know, Lindsay and Lucille have that kind of weird relationship. Familiarly bad relationship. So I was trying to figure that out myself. And I thought that, you know, John is the favorite partially just it seems, because he's the favorite. And I'm wondering about the psychology of favoritism. And if there's really no logic behind it at all. And if there is a logic, perhaps it has to do with the fact that John is the youngest and therefore represents the last hopes of Henry. Or an interest in his own youth and kind of preserving his fertility and his continued success as king. And therefore, to elevate the youngest son might Be appealing to something within himself that he wants to, I don't know, live forever, as he says at the end of the film. But certainly insofar as that actor is the worst actor in the world. 5:33 Wes: Oh, you think the actor is bad? 5:34 Erin: Oh, I think he's so bad. I think it's also ridiculous that he looks like he's 30 playing a 16 year old who. I think there are a lot of things that are wrong. I think it's miscast. I think the actor's. 5:47 Wes: Yeah, he's overplaying the stupidity of the character. I mean, just looking at the script, you don't have to make him such a moron. And so, I mean, the body language, the mouth agape. He's kind of almost hunchbacked a little bit in the way he moves around and scurries around fearfully. 6:05 Erin: Yeah. But I wonder if his cartoonish unlikability is actually serving for me to call attention to just the strangeness of our own predilections for things. You know, like in a way, taking Jon at face value, maybe the most interesting thing about Henry as a character is the fact that Jon is his favorite in the way that we would think it would be really strange if he loved, I don't know, some really disgusting flavor of ice cream or something. It reveals something kind of strange about him. Obviously of more import than the ice cream thing, but something strange and unexpected about his character, which I think still kind of is somehow fitting. He's not a guy with a lot of smooth edges himself. 6:46 Wes: So Jon is grotesque and maybe that's part of it. There's something about the grotesque. And since incest is such a strong theme or the, you know, the way the family members are embroiled with each other and in a way too close and using the power dynamics, the fighting over land and things like that to establish some separation. You see the incestuousness broadly in that, but then also, you know, specific scenes, one that I think we'll discuss between Richard and Eleanor, in which she cuts herself and which you get a very strong sense of the over closeness of the mother and the son. So the grotesqueness, you know, you might think of that in terms of a product of incest. So that John is the closest, the fully representing and concreteness and concretely embodied the incestuous dynamics of the family. I didn't think of that watching the film. I just thought of that. Now, from what you were saying, I do want to put a little caveat on there. There is a historical reason, I think at this Point. He's the only one who hasn't tried to overthrow his father, to rebel against him. And probably just because he was too young, later he will. But it's odd when you look at the history and you realize. Yeah, well, it does come out in the film, of course, that I think looking at the history of this, the full extent of it is actually quite startling. You know, they were fielding armies against each other, and now they're together as a family for their Christmas vacation. So it's quite something. There is also historical, a boring historical reason for this, which is that John is the only one who hasn't yet rebelled against the father. And it's really interesting when you look at the history. It's quite startling, even though it does come out in the movie, that, right, Eleanor has rebelled against him and he's keeping her prisoner and the sons have been involved. I think the history makes it more hammers home the extremeness of it. Just because the family members have been fielding armies against each other, right? Lots of people getting killed, castles being razed to the ground, treaty negotiations, all that stuff going on between father and wife and sons, and now they're all together for their Christmas vacation. I guess Christmas is the time where you. Well, no, it's not the time where you put away the knives. It's a time where you really dig in deep at an emotional level instead of going at it with the armies. 9:16 Erin: You hold the knife menacingly in your hand as you stare at the family members. Yeah, well, what I love about the film is just how the historical import, however implausible some of this may be, the sort of real facts behind it and the real insanity behind this family actually warring against itself, I think heightens the campiness of the film. I see this as a very campy film, a film that's not at all taking itself seriously and that's kind of fundamentally a comedy. I mean, I think it's like Virginia Woolf in that way, where the genre is a bit unstable, but I think it's very arch. And when it's funny, it's really funny. And even when it's kind of being serious, even serious moments have really campy undertones. Each member of the family emerging from one tapestry after another over the course of a scene, which has many painful moments, right, but which is also set up like a bedroom farce and is, in a sense, a bedroom farce. But to go back to this question of incest, one of the things I was thinking about, too, is the fact that much is made. I think Eleanor Says at one point that if she had stayed married to Louis, if she had produced sons for Louis, then none of us would have known each other. Something like that. And what I'm really interested in the film as well is not just the incestual relationship in the actual nuclear family, but in the sort of shadow family that emerges in the might have beens. And even at the end, this shadow family that Henry wants to build with Alice and this idea of getting an annulment and starting over again. But there are all these possibilities that might have been Philip, might have been Eleanor's son in a way. Right. Alys, who's Philip's sister and now Henry's mistress and was kind of raised by Eleanor. She is also a kind of shadow daughter of Eleanor. And so there's a sense in which these are people who, like Eleanor and Henry especially, they're older, they're at the end of their long careers, and you could see the shadows of possibilities back behind them on the road behind them that have been closed off. And so in a way, it makes the film feel a little bit more claustrophobic, maybe that at the end of this marriage, like, these are the only people that they're left with. They're the only people that they have to contend with or to deal with or to play with, as the case may be. And so it makes it seem a little bit more. 11:45 Wes: When you say at the end of the marriage, they are the. Who are the only people at the 11:49 Erin: end of the day. Henry and I almost said, Lucille, Henry and Eleanor are just left with each other. And these three surviving children, all of the other possibilities for their lives have been eliminated through their own choice or through unforeseen circumstances, like the fact that young Henry has died and everything. And so it makes the film feel extremely claustrophobic to me that this family is, as you say, overly close, even if they're far away from each other. 12:18 Wes: Yeah. I mean, he essentially. He has to keep her in a prison on the surface level, just because she is dangerous and has rebelled. And. But you get the sense also on an emotional level, because the. They are too close in a way, and they don't know how to regulate that boundary. These are people with a combination of boundary issues and power. Right. So the dynamic that might play out in a typical family that does can't fight over a whole kingdom. There'd be subtler power dynamics. And you might do things that are aimed at, like figuratively kill a sibling or a parent. Right. But you. It doesn't play out as Literally here. Just because there are. There's so much power at stake. All of the family dynamics, including envy and you didn't love me. And all that stuff can play out at the level of, give me a castle, give me. What is it that they're fighting over? The Aquitaine itself. There's other. Anyway, give me this tract of land, the Vexin. Give me this tract of land or I'm going to take it because it's mine. That's really. The film makes all of this out ultimately to be about love and the way in which love has been completely distorted by power and can only be experience through the lens of power and the lens of these big power struggles at the level of nations and duchies and things like that. So you get this weird sense in the film that there's all this love and profound attachment, and yet everyone also overtly hates and resents each other and is willing to talk about it. At least they're doing, like, family therapy throughout the film. They're willing to talk about it and they're willing to. It does look like a bit of a game through the whole thing, because the film starts with when Eleanor arrives on her boat. She and Henry seem to be very happy, like authentically happy, to see each other. And they have that same affect when she leaves. They say goodbye, and it's almost as if everything that has gone on in between is just the game that they like to p…

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    Friendship and Honor in “Becket” (1964) Jul 03, 2023
    Show notes

    In Jean Anouilh’s 1959 play “Becket,” the titular character seems at first to be a Saxon collaborationist to the Norman rule of England, and a man who has sacrificed his personal honor to his friendship with King Henry II and, as he puts it, “good living.” This will change when he becomes Archbishop of Canterbury, only to realize that he is enchanted by the “honor of God,” leading him to to defend at any cost the prerogatives of the Church against those of the state. When is honor more important than friendship? Wes & Erin discuss the 1964 film version of the play, with Peter O’Toole and Richard Burton, about a 12th-century high-profile bromance-gone-bad. Pre-order Erin’s forthcoming book “Avail” here: http://subtextpodcast.com/avail For bonus content, become a paid subscriber at Patreon or directly on the Apple Podcasts app. Patreon subscribers also get early access to ad-free regular episodes. Also from Wes: Curtain Times, a calendar of Boston theatre, classical, talks and readings. Follow:Twitter | Facebook | Website Transcript 0:11 Wes: In Jean Anouil's 1959 play Becket, the titular character seems at first to be a Saxon collaborationist to the Norman rule of England and a man who has sacrificed his personal honor to his friendship with King Henry ii and, as he puts it, good living. This will change when he becomes Archbishop of Canterbury, only to realize that he is enchanted by the honor of God leading him to defend, at any cost, the prerogatives of the Church against those of the state. When is honor more important than friendship? In this episode, we discuss the 1964 film version of the play of Peter O'Toole and Richard Burton about a 12th century high profile romance gone bad. This is Wes Alwan. 0:54 Erin: This is Erin O'Luanaigh, and you're listening to Subtext. 1:00 Wes: Okay, so today we're talking about the film Becket, which is based on a 1959 play by Jean Anouilh called Becket or the Honor of God. And this is set in 12th century England. The most exciting time. 1:18 Erin: Don't knock it. 1:19 Wes: No, no. Actually, what's interesting is Anouilh got the idea for this play reading Augustine Thierry's history of the conquest of England by the Normans, which I think is 12 volumes. But he picked up one of the volumes at a used bookstore, I think, just because it was green and he wanted something green on his bookshelf. There was no burning interest in the Norman Conquest, but I downloaded and took a look at that book a little bit, and then I thought, you know, the Norman Conquest is really fascinating. We think of it 1066 as the beginning. It's not the beginning of England, but it's beginning at the beginning of what? I mean, we're on the way to the English language. 2:00 Erin: I think you're right. When I was a kid, I memorized all of the monarchs of England in order, and it was too difficult to get Ethelred and all the Saxon kings under my belt. So I decided that 1066 on is what I would count as the English monarchy. So as far as my historical efforts are concerned, that's kind of what I always thought of and what I was always taught as being the big bang of an English self concept, maybe, which has always been entangled. Right. With other ethnicities coming in and actually being the ruling class, while the native people are of a different ethnicity or a different tribal background. 2:39 Wes: Yeah, the thing that I hadn't given a lot of thought to, I knew that the Normans had come in and conquered and taken over and were speaking French as the language of the court. But I hadn't given a lot of thought to this. What is basically started as an occupation and the subjugation right of the Saxons, and then became gradually a new people with a new language and culture predicated on that integration of the two, which took, think, hundreds of years. And this play is set about 100 years after the Norman Conquest, and it concerns the friendship between Henry II and Thomas Becket, who, in the account of Thierry, and therefore of Anouilh, is a Saxon. This turns out, by the way, to be historically inaccurate. And Anouilh found that out after he wrote the play, but decided to keep that in because that's one of the more interesting aspects of the play, which is that Henry II has befriended and raised up first to be his chancellor and then to be archbishop. This person who's supposed to be one of the underclass, supposed to be a Saxon, which is a fascinating plot point. 3:57 Erin: I wonder what that adds to the film, though, because I know that there's, in the story between Becket and Henry, there is some tension having to do with the fact that Henry makes Thomas and then Thomas betrays him. And I know that there was a class distinction, obviously, between them, as there's going to be between any, you know, king and commoner or even king and, you know, relatively lowly aristocrat. I wonder what this distinction, which in the film read to me as a racial metaphor, maybe what that adds to the drama of the film and what I think is already a really compelling story. I mean, this is historically a really great moment for high drama. I guess. I just wonder, like, I knew going in that that Becket was a Norman. And so the fact that it made so much of this Saxon heritage kind of confused me. I. I just. I wasn't sure what it was doing, what it was illustrating about the nature of their relationship that was so worthwhile that it needed to be expressed in these really black and white terms. Norman, Saxon. 5:04 Wes: Yeah, I think you're right. This occurred to me as well. Even though Anouilh thought it was important to leave in. I'm not sure how much is really that necessary to the film. I think Anouilh himself was accused of being a collaborator. And by the way, the film is. It's a screenplay based on the play, and we're discussing the film, and it's a screenplay that won Best Screenplay Adaptation, won the Academy Award for that, and involved significant changes. I think is largely faithful to the play, but it involves some additions and some cutting. But, yeah, Anouilh himself was accused of being a collaborator with the Germans during World War II. I think he was initially imprisoned and then got out and was fully willing to work as a playwright and intellectual during the German occupation. So I think part of what he's thinking about with the Norman occupation of England is the German occupation of France. But again, I think you're right. I'm not sure that it's all that essential to the film. In the beginning, we get this question of honor. So King Henry is at his bath and Becket is attending him. And they have this conversation about how he reconciles his honor with being a quote, unquote, collaborator. That's what Henry says to him. And Henry is very fast and loose with subjects which have a lot of potential for humiliation of Becket. Right. His subservience to Henry and the fact that he's part of the suppressed underclass and all that. So the way Becket responds is to say that honor is the concern of the living. It's a private matter. It's an idea. And he loves good living. He makes himself out to be a pragmatist who loves good living. And good living is Norman. He loves life. And the Saxon is basically brought up to be slaughtered. So he's doing the thing that will keep him alive. And honor is not all that relevant. He makes this argument, which is really weird, which is that, you know, you can't be honorable if you're dead. And Henry says, well, there's something that's not quite right about that reasoning. And of course, Henry is right. Sticking to one's honor may lead to you getting killed or executed often does at this time. Right. So the point is to be honorable up to the point where you die for that, where you're martyred for that. It's kind of irrelevant whether you can be honorable after you're dead if you are dishonorable while you're living. Right. So Beckett's argument seems to be, well, I'm going to be dishonorable while I'm living because I can't be honorable when I'm dead. So it doesn't make much sen. But then at the end of that scene, we get from Becket this talk about introducing forks into the royal feasts. And this is the beginning of the idea that Becket is a kind of. Ironically, he's kind of a civilizing force for all these people who basically behave like savages. He's a civilizing force in several different ways. And that fact and the pragmatism in the beginning, it'll change. But the pragmatism seemed to be connected. But just going back to your point, the conflict that arises between Henry and Becket, which does have something to do with honor once he's the Archbishop and has discovered a different kind of honor, honor of God, that conflict doesn't really have a lot to do with his being a Saxon. There's, in fact, nothing really very little in the film is made of that conflict. Right. Very little is made of the fact that Henry kills Beckett's girlfriend, basically, or causes her to commit suicide by being about to rape her. And several other reasons that Becket would have for having legitimate grievance with Henry. Those aren't really the motivating force in the film. So I think your point is well taken. Maybe he could have cut it out. 9:03 Erin: There's a suggestion that the Saxons are maybe more civilized than the Normans. You know, there's this sort of topsy turvy element to it. Of course, Becket is introducing the fork as a Florentine invention. It's anachronistic. The introduction of the fork to England didn't happen for hundreds of years. So that, to me was laugh. Like I laughed out loud. It's second only to this moment in the Passion of the Christ when they credit Jesus with inventing the dining room table. It's absolutely ridiculous. 9:36 Wes: Because you need a place where people can say grace. 9:39 Erin: Yeah. You only sit on one side of it. 9:42 Wes: Right. Exactly. 9:44 Erin: Anyway, I guess. Okay, well, the truth is gonna come out now because I will say not to turn this into the Siskel and Ebert podcast, but I hated this movie. I hated it. 9:54 Wes: Okay? 9:54 Erin: It was difficult for me to get through, and I'm really interested in talking about it, and I'm really interested in hearing what you love about it, because this is a film you were interested in doing. I think it's safe to reveal that to the listener. But, you know, I had always thought that I had seen this, but now I'm certain I haven't because one element of the movie would have bothered me so much that it would have stuck in my memory, you know? So I should preface this by saying that I really love the story, the historical story of Thomas Becket, and I love Murder in the Cathedral. And just reading about the history, or at least I did when I was a kid, probably now, if I went back and reread it, it would be a real snooze. But anyway, I think that that's probably at the root of my problem with the film. This Norman Saxon conflict, which is sort of trumped up various other historical inaccuracies and these moments, like the fork moment, where it turns into, like, an opportunity for someone to get a fork in their butt or whatever. Right. The food fighting scene. So the historical inaccuracies or that kind of flourish with the fork really distracted me, and none of them seemed necessary in a story that was already really packed with drama from the beginning. So I didn't see what purpose they served. 11:04 Wes: Yeah. So the Saxon thing comes from the Thierry history. He just. He read the 30 pages that involved Becket, and that was what Thierry said, and then he didn't get that fact check checked until it was too late. Yeah. The fork I don't know about. I'm not as bothered by the historical inaccuracy. 11:22 Erin: There were many other things that I probably didn't notice. Yeah. I mean, the. The thing that would have stuck out to me, which is how I knew that I hadn't seen the film, was its treatment of Eleanor of Aquitaine and even of Henry's mother. So Henry was very close with his mother. His mother was a very formidable woman and politician, if you will, you know, in quotes, in her own right. And the reduction of both of those women to these kind of idiotic harpies, I mean, you know, they do say some pieces of criticism that. That Henry should pay more attention to, but I suppose what that diminishing of those two figures and really of any other woman in the film, to exclude them from a possible relationship with Henry, whether it be killing them off, having them kill themselves, you know, mischaracterizing various relationships, it almost made Becket look like the only viable romantic option for Henry in all of England. I just wonder again why that needed to be. It's turning this relationship that actually has a lot of nuance and complexity into something that's very, to me, sort of ham handed, very stark. Right. The same thing as this Saxon Norman conflict where it's like, oh, I can't be friends with you because you're a Saxon, but I'm friends with you anyway because you're a Saxon. You know, that kind of stark dichotomy seemed very similar to me in terms of the way that it treated any other relationship in Henry's life. So that Becket was his only friend and his only love interest. Right. And the loss of that represented. Whereas I think the reality was that Henry had a lot going on in his life. Right. And I think that you didn't have to make Becket the figure upon which Henry hung all of his love and friendship. And to be this catch all for all of Henry's emotions. It didn't have to all hinge on Becket. There could have been a portrayal of the complexities of all the intrigue that was going on and much more. You know, Becket was doing lots of things that were really pissing Henry off until the end. So, you know, it could have been a more fun, almost cat and mouse game. There could have been a great scene in which, you know, not to totally rewrite the film or to argue that I could have written this better, but, you know, it would have been interesting to bring Eleanor in as the formidable woman that she was and have her perhaps align with Becket. Or, you know, you could take a lot of historical liberties, I think, so long as you do it in a way that I think gets to a deeper truth about a historical situation, or if it brings something out about the real nature of the relationship, even if it does so in a sort of compressed way, I think I would have taken it a little bit more seriously and I would have forgiven some of those inaccuracies if it lent itself to more complexity. I suppose what I'm saying is that these inaccuracies shut the film down for me. 14:13 Wes: Yeah. I mean, I think it's best to look at it as fiction with a bit of a historical backdrop. And the focus, really is this relationship between Henry and Becket, which, when I first saw the film, well, I should say this is a film that my mom was into, and it was around when I was a kid, in a way, I think as a kid, I thought, well, this is kind of a boring adult thing. But the murder of Becket in the church, or the killing of Becket in the church, in the end, it always made this impression on me. And then when I saw it as an adult, I was just. And this was years ago, saw it for the first time as an adult. I was delighted by the language. I also found the relationship between Becket and Henry really interesting. And I think there's something there about the chemistry between Richard Burton and Peter O'Toole that's going on. But what's interesting about it is not really principally t…

    Full show notes at the publisher

    Losing Your Head in Alice Munro’s “Carried Away” Jun 05, 2023
    Show notes

    Jack, a Canadian soldier recuperating in a European hospital during World War I, begins a correspondence with Louisa, the librarian in his hometown whom he has only seen and loved from afar. Their letters turn romantic. But when the war ends and he returns home, Jack never shows his face to Louisa and marries another woman, leaving Louisa to wonder if she’s been the victim of some diabolical trick. Then Jack becomes the victim of an accident at the local factory. Wes & Erin discuss Alice Munro’s short story “Carried Away” and ask how the unforgiving machinery of a factory might mimic the so-called machinery of courtship, and how being carried away, whether by love or by ideas, might prove dangerous. Pre-order Erin’s forthcoming book “Avail” here: http://subtextpodcast.com/avail For bonus content, become a paid subscriber at Patreon or directly on the Apple Podcasts app. Patreon subscribers also get early access to ad-free regular episodes. Also from Wes: Curtain Times, a calendar of Boston theatre, classical, talks and readings. Follow:Twitter | Facebook | Website Transcript 0:11 Erin: Jack, a Canadian soldier recuperating in a European hospital during World War I, begins a correspondence with Louisa, the librarian in his hometown, whom he has only seen and loved from afar. Their letters turn romantic, but when the war ends and he returns home, Jack never shows his face to Louisa and marries another woman, leaving Louisa to wonder if she's been the victim of some diabolical trick. Then Jack becomes the victim of an accident at the local factory. Today we're discussing Alice Munro's short story Carried Away and asking how the unforgiving machinery of a factory might mimic the so called machinery of courtship. And how being carried away, whether by love or by ideas, might prove dangerous. This is Erin O'Luanaigh. 0:58 Wes: And this is Wes Alwan. 0:59 Erin: And you're listening to Subtext. 1:02 Wes: So, Erin, you suggested this reading and I don't think I've read anything by Alice Munro before. We think you were reading this for school, Right? I'm curious about what prompted you to suggest it. 1:16 Erin: I'd never read any Alice Munro either. And what was really curious is that I encountered this book, Open Secrets, from which we're reading Carried Away, which is the first story in this collection. I encountered it in an experimental forms class that I took this past semester. I read this whole book of stories, which I was just totally knocked out by, especially the first. I guess, you know, I went to class thinking to myself, like, okay, how is this? I mean, there were certainly lots of like, surprising twists. Like the way that the stories move is really unusual and unexpected. And, you know, I had some, some hints as to why this might be included in an experimental forms class. But then when I got to the class, I was really surprised by, by my professor, Kate Coles, who's brilliant. I was really surprised by the reason why she had included it. But I'm curious to know before I tell you why she included it in the class. If you have any idea as to why, why specifically Carried Away would qualify as being experimental, There's a softball to throw at you. 2:23 Wes: Yeah, that's a difficult question. I didn't think of it as experimental. It's literary fiction, so I don't expect it to be plot driven exactly. Although there is a. This is actually plotted and each section kind of ends with a plot point and does go back and forth in time. And there's an omniscient narrator who takes different character perspectives. Her perspective, then Jim Fraley's, then Arthur's, and then back to her in the end, which is interesting, but yeah. So give me the answer. Why is this experimental? The pulp fiction of short stories? 3:07 Erin: Sorry, no. Well, you know, I was thinking this was relatively straightforward compared to some of the things that we were reading in that class, as you suggest. So I was thinking, like the letter writing or these time jumps which happen and are really destabilizing. There's one story in the collection which is really fabulous. Lots of stories kind of pull the rug out from under you narrativistically, where you're reading something. In one of the stories in particular, you're reading something going along with the story. And. And next thing you know, someone says, well, that's the story that so and so told me. You don't realize, like, sometimes they do this in movies or TV shows where you think that what you're seeing is the actual movie or TV show. But then it's sort of like you realize that you've been watching the movie that the other characters are watching. You know, it sort of pops out of the movie. So it's sort of that kind of effect. So there are lots of really interesting things that happen in this whole collection. But anyway, I went to class and come to find out that Kate Coles. She thinks that the story functions on a kind of a lyric principle where the movements that happen in the story operate according to lyric functions rather than to narrative functions. And so she talks about how the story basically operates according to this metonymic principle of someone losing their head. And in each one of the stories, sort of sections, someone literally or figuratively, you know, sort of metonymically. Right. Loses their head or is carried away is a synonym for that, of course. And so each of the plot points in the story, you know, she thinks, reflect that principle or happen according to that principle. Whether it be Jack obviously literally being beheaded by the machine, which is an incredibly shocking moment in the story, or Louisa sleeping with Jim Frarey and is reeling after that experience and sort of loses her head in that moment. Or when she sees Jack later on in the story. Lots of other instances in which we can note that one or another character is carried away. You know, at one point, I think Jim Frarey says that Jack was just carried away and that's why he wrote those letters when he had a fiance at home. You know, Louisa being carried away by potentially seeing him when he comes into the library, et cetera, et cetera. So, anyway, I really liked that idea. And I thought it was a really fascinating way to look at the story as functioning according to. And this is something we talk about a lot in my grad program about the lyric and how lyric works as compared to narrative. And so this is something that's of particular interest to me and my field of study. This is going to be like a plot point that I'm going to have to. Is ironic, but this is going to be a question that I'm going to have to answer. For instance, on my. My big exams that I take at the end of my reading year. 5:53 Wes: Yeah, I think you're making me think of a word that Arthur uses to describe Jack. And that word is careless. So they have this really, she and Arthur, while they're getting to know each other. And really, they're getting to know each other right through Jack. He's the martyr, in a way that brings them together because it's his death that becomes the topic that they initially discuss. Anyway, so Arthur mentions the public's endless appetite for horrific details. And we do get a lot of horrific details in the story itself, right? The precise location of the cut through Jack's head. And Louisa defends that and says, it's natural. People want to picture it. And then she asks about the machinery. Did the machinery do something unexpected? Which later on Arthur is going to think, huh. She'll also make a comment about, you know, isn't there anything you can do to protect the workers? Which he reflects on later as perhaps a criticism. But here's what Arthur says. No, Arthur said it wasn't the machine grabbing him and pulling him in like an animal. He made a wrong move, or at any rate, a careless move. Then he was done for. So later on he reflects on the fact that Jack has been stealing books from the library. That's the reason that again, this prompts the meeting. He's taking those books back to the library for Jack's wife, Grace. He'll think this not stealing, except temporarily harmless behavior, but peculiar. Was there any connection between thinking you could do things a little differently that way and thinking you could get away with a careless move which might catch your sleeve and bring the saw down on your neck? And of course, Jack's first act of carelessness is the way he treats Louisa with the letters. And then there's a suggest, I think there's the further suggestion that it's not just stealing books that's careless, but maybe even reading books, right? There's something aspirational about it. Jack is working in a factory, but he's reading these books. And later on, in Louisa's hallucination of Jack, the specter of Jack will tell her that's what got him started, in a way. And thank her for that. Even though. Did it really get him started? He didn't go anywhere, of course, and he died. But could it have gotten him started? Could it have led to something else? But anyway, what I'm trying to point out is, yes, I think this thematic thing of being carried away, which is perhaps related to carelessness in the sense of, in each case, losing one's head, not being careful, maybe falling in love, writing letters to someone even though you know you're engaged, or, you know, the example in the end when whatever is happening to Louisa, maybe a stroke or maybe it's her, these are her dying moments, but there's a vision, right? That's another form of being carried away. I think that accounts for what's so powerful about the story, which is. Which I find hard to account for. Like in the last section, I started feeling really mournful and sad without quite knowing why. Because she's so. So in the details of things, right? So. So in. Into the concrete reality. And she's conveying all these emotions indirectly, but it builds up to something really powerful. 9:12 Erin: Yeah, I really like what you say about this connection between carelessness and being carried away. I'm thinking about the fact that several. Several men are pretty careless with Louisa's feelings, right? We have this relationship mostly carried out via letters with a doctor who was treating her for tb. And you learn only in the last pages of the story how really terribly sick she was. I mean, she was in the sanatorium for four years and this doctor was married and, you know, obviously got Louisa's hopes up or, you know, did something he was not supposed to do and ended up having to leave. Thinking about Jim Frarey, when Louisa sleeps with him and loses her virginity. And he's obviously been careless in his sort of understanding of her, right? He thinks he knows her really well. He thinks he knows women really well. And he's full of these trite little phrases that he assigns women where he's obviously, on some fundamental level, distrustful of them somehow, and thinks that because Louisa lives in the. In the hotel and, you know, dines by herself and has a glass of wine with her meal, that somehow that means that she's, by the standards of the day, some sort of loose woman. And so he thinks that it's. 10:24 Wes: Drink upsets women in a radical way, so they have to confess things. 10:28 Erin: That's why. 10:29 Wes: Insights. 10:30 Erin: And when she tells him the story of Jack's letter, she asks, and this is not the first time she asks if some diabolical trick has been played on her by Jack, if she's the victim of some kind of really perverse and extended practical joke. And Jim makes the comment that no, no, no, he doesn't think so in any way. It's women who are the type to play that kind of joke. And this kind of makes maybe a parallel between the machinery of the factory, maybe and the machinery of courtship, you know, to coin a phrase or something in which one is expected to take necessary precautions to guard one's body, one's heart. And if one is hurt, the person who's hurt them somehow isn't to blame. Like you're to blame for not taking the proper precautions. So I think that what happens is this really interesting blending between what I'm seeing as a story that's very, very concerned with class, right? I mean, the fact that we never see Jack's face, the fact that he then loses his head and has really no face. And that Arthur, who owns the factory and who picks up his head, cannot give a physical description of this man, right? So I think there's something about Jack's class that makes him faceless, that steals his identity or something. So I think the story is very concerned with class and with these, very subtly, with these issues of unionization. Who is to blame when these types of accidents happen at the factories, if they're accidents at all, if not enough care is taken for these workers? And there's a connection between that, I think, and some sort of statement, not in any heavy handed way, but I think the story is also interested in the plight of women like Louisa and what happens to women like that. She, who's sort of equally downtrodden at the beginning of the story, you know, she's an orphan, has had to work for a living and the sort of uncomfortable situation in which women are placed in this time where they have to make a living and support themselves. And that very necessity to keep them alive somehow places them within the realm of suspicion. So I guess I'm trying to tie those things together. I think they do sort of tie together, though I'm not quite seeing all the threads right between this sort of, what I'll call loosely, a sort of feminist concern about women in this time and a sort of interesting concern with class and labor and all of these other things that are coming together, I think quite rightfully in this time in Canadian history, between the world wars. 13:10 Wes: Yeah, it's very, it's very subtle, but I think I had a similar idea. She says she's very ignorant of machinery. And, you know, he gives that line about he made a careless move. So the machine is not like an animal is Arthur's idea. It's not like an animal that's just bitten him, attacked him and then grabbed him and pulled him into the machine. He had to do something to get pulled into the machine. The machine is not nature. And in that sense, it's not fate. It's not just the machinery of fate doing what it's going to do to you. It really depends on your choices. This becomes a way of expressing a conflict between free will and determinism, but also between the social conditions that put people where they are and keep them where they are, and then the possibility of them transcending those social conditions and doing something aspirational, right? Writing or reading, having a life where books are involved or education. And that's the way Jack puts it in her fantasy, right? This got me. The books got me started. It's not something that ever comes to fruition. But in reality, the other thing that Arthur says is a machine is your servant and it is an excellent servant, but it makes an imbecile. Master Arthur may be right about this connection between Jack's carelessness with the books, you know, not checking them out, which is probably right, we can surmise, is because he doesn't want to interact with Louisa. But also between that and what would happen with the machine, there may be an element in which Jack is at fault, right? Because again, there's something careless in the way he treated Louisa i…

    Full show notes at the publisher

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