Corialanus

One would think that the phrase “Not one of Shakespeare’s better plays” would place something head and shoulders above the works of lesser men. Our culture is brimming with terrible literature and we might imagine that even the minor efforts of a master of the language would be of tremendous value.

And while to an extent this is true, the language itself has undeniable beauty, Old Shakey had a bit of a blind spot when it came to plots. They are sort of the canvas upon which he worked and he seemingly found them lying about (often in other people’s plays) and then carefully crafted something wondrous in and about the largely inconsequential stories.

Often, perhaps through luck, the plots lent weight to his words and on occasion his plays work in spite of them, but there are a decent number with names we rarely hear that are sunk by the burden. That are so daft or incomprehensible that the mind recoils from them and even the words, those fine, fine words can no longer save it.

It doesn’t help that I have a similar relationship to his language as I do to music: they take a few listens to truly sink in. I need to hear the melody a few times before the whole makes sense.

So Coriolanus was not an easy watch. It’s a fascinating production with iconic visuals, an impressive cast, a news report given by Peter Snow in full Shakespearean language (unadulterated genius) and Ralph Fiennes acting his little heart out as the roaring, spitting war hero of the title. It’s the kind of performance I crave from a Shakespeare play, a properly meaty bit of work in which he stalks about the place leaving bite marks on the scenery, eyes bulging and veins pulsing from his face and head and he is quite possibly alone worth the watch.
But it’s difficult to get passed the erratic actions of the characters. The vicious war hero becomes a public figure because his mum tells him to, is betrayed and banished because direct democracy is a bad idea and returns at the head of an army only to abate because his mum tells him to. People make confusing decisions that take incredulity out the back and kick its damn teeth in.

I have to admit I do like the fact that there are no moral absolutes on offer, no character is fully good or evil. There is no clear hero or villain. But perhaps it would have helped to have someone to definitely root for or rail against. Despite the value in being more realistic and complex it’s hard to be invested in a tale with characters we simply don’t care much about.

And that’s probably the problem right there. Most find Shakespeare’s language difficult to engage with. Myself I find it challenging but generally worthwhile, however I need something to tie me into it, investment in the story or characters that draw me in and demand understanding, or I simply let the vast majority flow past me as if it’s so much flowery gibberish.