Thursday, May 31, 2012

The Tributes... the next Jane Austens in the art of parodying?


            Now that my group’s video project, a parody trailer of The Hunger Games which incorporates the Gothic themes from our class, has been presented I wanted to comment on what I’ve been thinking about parodies and the art of parody.  Though the video focuses more on and features the characters from Frankenstein, The Monk, “The Rime of the Ancient Mariner”, “Manfred”, and “Christabel”, and therefore none of the characters from Jane Austen’s Northanger Abbey, the one Romantic novel we read this quarter that parodied other Gothic works was this one. 
            A parody is defined by Merriam-Webster as a work which “closely imitates” another for “comic effect or for ridicule”; also “a feeble or ridiculous” imitation.  What interests me is that adjective feeble to describe an imitation.  Since full-on imitations are frowned upon as plagiarism, how could you make an imitation that wasn’t feeble?  Still, it is interesting that artists would intentionally create a work that is feeble, and what is even more fascinating is that’s what makes the parody funny.  A parody of a bomb explosion wouldn’t involve an explosion with a bigger fire or more impressive detonation; it would make fun of the original with a “wimpier” fire, so to speak.  As I was watching my group’s completed video in class today, I caught myself laughing at all the moments that were intentionally weakened in comparison with the imitated moment in The Hunger Games trailer—that’s why it was both helpful and necessary that we showed the original trailer before showing our own parody trailer.
            Northanger Abbey employs similar tactics to parody the popular novels of the Gothic era.  Henry fantasizes playfully about a fearful storm during Catherine’s first night at the abbey, and though there actually is a storm at the abbey during which Catherine is sleeplessly terrified, as Tricia pointed out in her oral presentation there is no more terror in the storm once it is over.
            The second volume of the novel hones in more closely on Catherine’s point of view, and ironically, this part of the volume seems more realistically Gothic than Gothic parody even though we are seeing the action through the eyes of the character being parodied for her obsession with Gothic novels.  As we discussed in class, by this transition away from the tone of parody it almost seems that Austen began Northanger Abbey by trying to parody Gothic literature but got swept into the terrific elements in the narrative as she continued writing.  Not to mention that in parodying the obsession readers in Austen’s time had about other Gothic novels, Austen’s description of the obsession itself and the way Catherine succumbs to her imagination is, in fact, terrifying.
            My group had a similar experience as we delved into the planning of our video.  When we started, we wanted to use modern Gothic literature (The Hunger Games) to play off of Gothic themes from our class, but spoofing it was not initially in the plan.  When we looked up the original movie trailer, we stumbled upon independent parody trailers that other people had made for fun, and our videos is similar to others in that the most intense moments in the trailer are the exact ones we chose to weaken and therefore parody in our own video, for example the countdown scene when the tributes are preparing to run at the start of the games.
            Before making these connections, I didn’t know making a parody was such an art.  Maybe my opinion is based on the fact that my group just completed a project parodying Gothic literature for a class that spent all quarter studying Gothic themes, but I think parodying Gothic themes is the most fun to parody of all the other literary periods.

After many failed attempts at posting my blogs, here is one of my two class blog posts! I had intended to post this after we had discussed A Sicilian Romance in class, and our thoughts on casting the characters in the novel for a movie. Please feel free to comment. Thanks! Rachel                 

             After discussing in class how we would cast A Sicilian Romance, if a movie adaptation should ever be made, I couldn’t help but want to delve more into the idea of a movie adaptation of this novel. Film adaptations have always fascinated me. The idea of attempting to condense a novel, written in thousands of words, into a screenplay, that is only able to last at maximum three hours, is an extremely daunting idea. However, the market for such films is ever growing with adaptations, such as The Great Gatsby, ready to hit theatres as soon as this upcoming December. It seems to be a pop culture phenomenon, the adapting of novel for film, but what is lost along the way in these condensed, modernized versions is the eloquence of the original text, and intricacy the authors intended to be understood. Having these thoughts at the back of my mind, coupled with our in class discussion of creating a Hollywood adaptation of A Sicilian Romance, I felt compelled to plot out how I would not only cast this film, but also the ways in which I would facilitate a screenplay production that would allow for Ann Radcliffe’s words to truly shine.
            As a jumping off point, I utilized all of your brilliant ideas, and thought of the casting each of you had decided upon for the characters of this novel. Below is the ideal casting for our class:

English 590.04H A Sicilian Romance Cast
Louisa Bernini: Taylor Swift
o America’s Sweetheart
o She has a sweet disposition and a genuine nature
o Her music speaks of being wronged by men
Cornelia de Veneza: Monica Bellucci
o Italian descent
o She is a motherly type figure
o She is young, but not too young
o The roles she typically plays are on the darker side
Duke de Luovo: Aaron Eckhart
o In The Dark Night, the character he play was very evil and decieving
Abbott of St. Augustin: Ian McShane
o Usually portrays characters who are slightly a little off, or a bit of a creep
Ferdinand: Orlando Bloom
o He is dark and attractive
o Sometimes can be brash
o He is good at playing characters who are passion-stricken
o He typically goes against the grain
Hippolotus: Ryan Gosling
o He is handsome, graseful and masculine
o He is good at playing romantic and mysterious roles
Julia: Felicity Jones
o She is passionate and gentle
o She really looks innocent
Madame de Menon: Julia Roberts
o She is very experienced
o A motherly type figure
o She is able to pull off characters who have been through a lot
o She would make for a great instructor
Maria de Vellorno: Angelina Jolie
o She is older and beautiful
o She did steal Brad…
The Marquis of Mazzini: Alan Rickman
o He looks very sinister
           
            The characters that you each came up with certainly have their pros and cons for each of their castings. I think before I delve into my ideal casting, I need to explain the ways in which I would transform Radcliffe’s words into a screenplay, and the ways in which I would provide visual image to help portray my concepts.  First, and perhaps most important, is the selection of a setting. One of the most poignant aspects of this novel is the way in which Radcliffe utilizes scenery in order to further the reader’s understanding of major plot points, connect plot points to one another, as well as utilizing certain scenery as symbolic representations of the story line. The ruined castle, once belonging to “the noble hours of Mazzini” is where it all begins. A crumbled ruin, stones missing, crumbled, and destroyed. The beauty, elegance and elaborate nature of a castle is gone, the ruble as the only reminder. I picture filming taking place somewhere in Europe, perhaps at some of the palaces and castles in the Baltic region, such as Riga, Rundale Cesis, Turaida, or Bauska. Below is a picture of the Turaida castle. While this castle seems to be better kept than I envision, the castle and its run down general appearance, and its elaborate size, would work out very nicely.


            As far as a screenplay of the novel goes, I understand how it is difficult for screenplay authors to fully include a novels breadth while still appeasing audiences with a movies length, visual appeal, and star power. Most importantly, I want to make sure that my screenplay follows the events outlined in A Sicilian Romance, including, but not limited to,  the ways in which the marquis leaves Julia and Emilia to live within the estate, exemplifying the complexities of love, as shown through the eyes of Julia, and the final realization bestowed upon Ferdinand by the marquis.
            In the future, I would be very interested to see if this novel will make it to the big screen. The setting and casting seem to be the simple part of the equation, while the screenplay is the more difficult and complex aspect. I cannot begin to imagine the work that must go into writing and creating a screen play, but from the few things I mentioned above, I can only assume that it is an extremely daunting task. As I close this post, I leave you all with my thoughts on casting my cinematic version of A Sicilian Romance.

Rachel Edelman’s A Sicilian Romance Cast
Louisa Bernini: Dakota Fanning
o Can play both types of roles – those who require a sweet disposition, and those that require a rougher edge
o She is very able to portray a character who has a more complex inner self than the outside self portrays
o Old enough to portray Ferdinand’s first wife, but young enough to still show that naïve nature of a young age
Cornelia de Veneza: Monica Bellucci (I would stick with this casting for the same reasons)
o She is of Italian descent
o She is a motherly type figure
o She is young, but not too young
o The roles she typically plays are on the darker side
Duke de Luovo: Heath Ledger (if it was possible)
o Along the same lines of the casting decided on in class, his porttrayl of the Joker, with the convoluted sense of right and wrong fits perfectly
Abbott of St. Augustin: Ewan McGregor
o His character in Angels & Demons portrayed the Catholic Church in a bad light, which is along the lines of what this character was intended to do in the novel.
Ferdinand: Josh Hutcherson
o He is dark and attractive
o With his casting in The Hunger Games, his mysterious nature and the ways in which he goes against the grain would give a perfect combination of morality to this charater
Hippolotus: Zac Efron
o He is handsome, graseful and masculine
o He is good at playing romantic roles
o His youthful innocence connect with the novel
o He has played roles that have a little more substance to them, and would be able to create an inner sense of character for Hippolotus
Julia: Alexis Bledel
o She is passionate and gentle
o She really looks innocent
o The roles that she has played in the past are always connected to a love that cannot be
Madame de Menon: Meryl Streep
o She is very experienced
o A motherly type figure
o Her innate ability to give her characters multiple layers of complexity
o Her wealth of knowledge inherently makes her a face of being a mentor
Maria de Vellorno: Angelina Jolie (I would stick with this casting for similar reasons)
o She is older and beautiful
o She did steal Brad…
o She has played many characters who need to be conniving and sneaky with their actions
The Marquis of Mazzini: Anthony Hopkins
o He is an older actor
o Some of his more memorable roles have been sinister, evil, and at some times sociopathic
o He has been in movies based off of novels or plays, like Titus

Gothic Pirates final project.


http://gothicpirates.wordpress.com/

Frankenstein: The Pop Culture Monster


After many failed attempts at posting my blogs, here is one of my two class blog posts! I had intended for this to go up before my oral presentation, but please feel free to comment on the blog itself or in conjunction with the oral presentation. Thanks! Rachel      

             After having the opportunity to delve into the theatrical world of Frankenstein, I left feeling slightly perplexed as the various portrayals of Mary Shelley’s monster within these modern day adaptations. As I will present in class, there have been quite a few different adaptations of Shelley’s text, the earliest most well known adaptation surfacing in the early 1930s. Each of the adaptations have focused on a similar story line of mad scientist creating Frankenstein, the name of the monster, and the ways in which this creature terrorizes the town, only bringing destructions in its wake. However, in almost every one of these cinematic portrayals, the Frankenstein monster is a dumb, mindless creature that has no coherent human thoughts, but rather the simplistic thoughts congruent with a young child, speaking in monotones and single syllable communication.
            This most well-known early movie adaptation is James Whale’s Frankenstein, produced in 1931. Here, the monster is depicted in this mindless way: Frankenstein is a garish looking monster, whose body looks more robotic than human skewing the idea that this monster was supposedly made from human parts. Rather, this version of Frankenstein elicits more of a sense of fear for audiences instead of the complex nature of Shelley’s original interpretation. Having this cinematic version as a jumping off point, the movie versions that have followed have consistently stayed within these parameters of an almost robot like monster, eliciting little to no communicative skills.
            In the majority of popularized cinematic adaptations, the representation of the monster’s physical state tends to stay very constant.  The garish, clay like skin, broad forehead with little to no hair, small scars across the face, tale and lanky body frame, and some sort of un-human characteristic, such as bolts on other side of the neck as seen in the picture below. As cinematic quality and technology progressed, adding color to the big screen productions, the monsters gained a green colored hue, often times making the monsters look pretend, doll like, and clearly fake. This is indeed an extremely skewed vision of Shelley’s original intentions. No longer is the monster a product of human body parts, but a true “creation” seemingly from scratch.
Boris Karloff as Frankenstein's monster in Bride of Frankenstein
            Throughout the past few decades, the Frankenstein phenomenon and cult fascination has grown exponentially. Cinematic portrayals are no longer the only ways in which Shelley’s Frankenstein has come to “life”. Various parodies and satires, such as Mel Brooks Young Frankenstein, television derivations, like The Munsters, and stage adaptations, including Young Frankenstein – The Musical, have all surfaced claiming to portray the story of Frankenstein, or at least an attempt at this portrayal. As these new forms of popularization have surfaced, the ways in which popular culture identifies Frankenstein is in no way related to the character in Shelley’s novel. Rather, like the ways in which early cinematic creations depict the monster (green looking skin, tall and lanky frame, speaking incoherently or at a very reduced level) is how these modern adaptations depict the monster.
            Children, many of whom utilize television as their first contact with popular culture, are given this false image of Shelley’s monster, believing that “Frankenstein” is a mindless, robot creation whose only objective is to scare people, potentially even hurting them. Shows such as Arthur, Scooby-Doo, Alvin and the Chipmunks, and even SpongeBob SquarePants have all utilized this imagery of “Frankenstein” at some point of their television run. Their false presentation of the true imagery of Shelley’s Frankenstein makes it extremely difficult down the line for introduction to Frankenstein. I myself was a product of these pop culture representations, and found it quite difficult to transition from the mental picture of the giant, green, scary monster to the more human depiction in Frankenstein. What truly amazes me is the way in which one, seemingly innocent, director’s vision of Shelley’s monster generated an entire sub-culture where there are no longer any aspects of the original left in existence. I hope that, as the cinematic world progresses further, more true to text adaptations of Frankenstein will surface, creating a new culture for future generations where Shelley’s work truly comes to life.


Frankenstein. Dir. Kenneth Branagh. Perf. Robert De Niro, Kenneth Branagh, Helena Bonham Carter, Ian Holm, Tom Hulce, Aiden Quinn, and John Cleese. Tristar Pictures, 1994. DVD.
Frankenstein. Dir. James Whale. Perf. Boris Karloff, Colin Clive, Mae Clarke, and John Boles. Universal Pictures, 1931. DVD
IMDB.com, Inc. International Movie Database. Amazon.com Company, 1990. Website. www.imdb.com.
Wikipedia contributors. "Frankenstein in popular culture." Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia, 28 May. 2012. Web
Young Frankenstein. Dir. Mel Brooks. Perf. Gene Wilder, Marty Feldman, Peter Boyle, Teri Garr, Madeline Kahn, Cloris Leachman, Kenneth Mars, Richard Haydn, and Gene Hackman. 20th Century Fox, 1974. DVD.



Wednesday, May 30, 2012

The Gothic Games

For our group project, we made a trailer of a fictional film parody of The Hunger Games that uses some elements of the Gothic that we've learned about this quarter.

If you haven't seen or read The Hunger Games, here are two trailers from the real film:

Teaser Trailer

Theatrical Trailer <-- This one is longer and explains the story more.

The real trailers inspired some of what we did in our project.

Important things to note:
- In our version, the oppressive Capitol which used the Games to teach the Districts a lesson is represented by The Catholic Church, which decided to put on the Games as punishment for people who have done something immoral or otherwise defied the Church.

- The film is narrated by the Ancyent Mariner, played by Chuck, who must wander the earth and tell people about his ordeal in the Games.

- Other characters include Agnes (played by Tricia) and her baby, Dr. Frankenstein and his Creation, Julia / Christabel (who were made to look similar because in Gothic Literature, most of the female characters were pretty much identical), Ambrosio (the creeper), Julia's lover, and Manfred (who is dressed and black and, as a result of his constant desire to die, is pretty apathetic about being in the Games). The Madman was also chosen as a tribute but doesn't appear in the trailer because he does his own thing and manages to stay away from pretty much everyone.

We hope you enjoy our video.
- Leah, Kate, Tricia, and Chuck

Tuesday, May 29, 2012

Team Guess: "The Penitent"

Please comment on our comic page here! comic found on carmen: https://carmen.osu.edu/d2l/lms/content/viewer/main_frame.d2l?ou=10294553&tId=4783892

--Noa, Natalie, Rachel, Max

A Preview of Our Final Project: Frankenstein in the style of The Office


     Hey guys, so I know we’re all busy getting ready for finals (and some of us for graduation) but I hope you get a chance to read this before Thursday, since this is basically a preview to our presentation on Thursday.
     My group decided that we wanted to do a modern rendition of Frankenstein in the style of The Office, a TV show that I’m sure many of you are familiar with. There was so much going on internally that we felt The Office’s style of having characters do asides/monologues commenting on what was going on would be perfect for Frankenstein.
     In creating the modern rendition of Frankenstein, there were a few things that I felt either changed or enhanced perceptions that I had from reading the novel. First off, there was Dr. Frankenstein’s construction of the Creature. It wasn’t really given a specific reason in the novel as far as I recall, it was simply science for science’s sake. When we modernized it however, during Dr. Frankenstein’s monologue about why he created the Creature, I found him very lacking in good reasons. We struggled with a purpose for making the Creature precisely the way that he did. This enhanced my previous views of Dr. Frankenstein. Being a fellow scientist, I was rather angry and annoyed with Dr. Frankenstein for lacking in a plan after creating the Creature. There should have been a plan and a goal, and when those weren’t met there should have been a backup plan. Dr. Frankenstein also had a pretty hard time accepting responsibility in the novel, and in our video he also runs away after the Creature is completed. Dr. Frankenstein’s carelessness is greatly emphasized in our version, since as the story progresses onward the Creature kills more and more people.
     However, I also ended up feeling much more sympathetic for the Creature (Dave in our video). After his birth/creation, Dave ends up living in the basement of the company building that Dr. Frankenstein created him in. Instead of eating berries and other natural foods, he’s forced to eat out of the vending machines instead. Although this is a rather small detail, when I really thought about the way Dave would have to survive there, I found it to be a rather pitiful existence. In having to “create” our own Creature for the modernized version, I actually felt pretty bad for him, something that I hadn’t felt as much in the novel.
     Also, it took us a while to really think about what “love” would be in Frankenstein. There was the obvious inclusion of Dr. Frankenstein and Elizabeth’s relationship, the most obvious topic of “love” that we could discuss. We kept this in our video, but we decided to make Dr. Frankenstein a woman (Kate B), adding a little bit of modern controversial love issues into the mix. But what was love for Dave? In our version of Frankenstein, we decided to change the “wedding night” scene from the novel. A drunken Elizabeth comes to the company building in search of Dr. Frankenstein, and in her drunkenness throws herself all over Dave. This presents an interesting situation for Dave, something that the Creature from the novel didn’t have to face. Here, for the first time, there is a human being who not only is touching him, but is willingly touching him (in her drunken state at least). Dave talks about feeling wanted in his monologue, as he struggles with the decision of whether or not to take advantage of the situation.
     In the end, as the company building burns down with Dr. Frankenstein and Dave both inside, Dave has one final monologue in which he talks about what we decided love meant for him. Love for Dave was ultimately understanding and acceptance from human beings. He talks about how other humans don’t understand how lucky they really are to receive this on a daily basis. The fact that other people will walk by you, and maybe even flash you a smile as you walk to class or to work rather than scream and run away from you. That basic lack of rejection as a fellow living creature is the smallest iota of love, and is something that Dave never truly received.
     I hope you guys enjoy our video on Thursday!

Saturday, May 26, 2012

Dacre, Death, and Manipulation



Charlotte Dacre, otherwise known as Charlotte King Byrne, was a woman out of step with the traditional expectations of females of her time.  Very reminiscent of a strong and independent woman today, Dacre had three children out of wedlock, pursued a career typically reserved for men, and went on to excel in her career, buoyed by her unconventional antics.  Dacre became a novelist and poet, but rather than adhering to traditional standards of the fairer sex, her female characters were strong-willed and aggressive, with raging sexual desires  (“Charlotte Dacre”).

In addition to untraditional portrayals of women in her literature, Dacre employed death in creative ways.  In her poem “The Mistress to the Spirit of her Lover,” death comes as the ghost of a woman’s late beloved.  In another poem, “Death and the Lady,” Death is actually a principal character, capable of holding an entire reasoned conversation with a human being.  But beyond personifying death in her poems, Dacre goes so far as to allocate unto it a very human attribute, but one that suits death well in her verses: the ability to manipulate.

It is this manipulation, present in both poems, that allows Dacre’s readers to deviate from conventional thoughts of death as an abstraction and permit their minds to consider it concretely.  This is perhaps Dacre’s exact objective: to bring death to life, if you will.  To demystify it and familiarize her readers with it.  Whether this speculated objective of hers was intended to frighten her audience or evoke a sense of comfort with the idea of death, either or both can be accomplished through “The Mistress to the Spirit of her Lover” and “Death and the Lady.”  Examples abound in these two poems of Dacre’s clear ease to accept death.  It seems, however, that Dacre thinks it necessary to strong-arm her readers into such ease.  She certainly does so by portraying death as a manipulative being whose persuasive talents draw its objects into the belief that death is their best option.

Beginning with the subtler of the two, manipulation in “The Mistress to the Spirit of her Lover” is far from overt.  There is no dialogue between the two presences in the poem: the mistress and her lover’s spirit.  The scene is a forlorn woman sitting on a rock, looking to the edge of a cliff where the spirit of her lover appears to be contemplating a jump.  The majority of the verses consist of her lamenting his insubstantiality.  Throughout the poem runs an undercurrent of her potential mental instability, which makes it all the more easy for death to influence her mind. 

Evidence of her fragile mental state comes most obviously from the very fact that she is seeing a ghost.  Then it comes through in Dacre’s words: “Oh! Lover illusive, my senses to mock -/’Tis madness presents if I venture to think” (15-16).  That line, which comes early in the poem, teeters on the brink between realizing that she is flirting with insanity and not caring, as long as she is able to see her lover.  She is able to recognize the fact that he is an “embodied mist” (21). 

However, the longer she contemplates his status as a spirit, the more easily death is able to manipulate her mind.  She is initially worried for the spirit, afraid that he will fall off the cliff.  But she then realizes the benefits he has: “Yet ah!  I forget, thou art light as a breath;/That aerial form, which no atoms combine,/Might dizzily sport down the abyss of death,/Or tremble secure on the hazardous line” (29-32).  The mistress begins to see the advantages there are to being dead and all hope for an intact mental state is lost in the last stanza when she feels her soul beginning to mingle with his. 

Reading beneath the surface of the words, it is easy to see that the spirit is not just a supernatural entity in the poem, but the “embodiment” (in mist form) of death.  Pop cultural perceptions elucidate that death’s objective is to claim as many lives as it can, by any means necessary, and it is able to claim the mistress’ in clever fashion.  It lets her own mind make the decision to give up her life, but helps it along by tempting her with the proximity of her lost lover, guiding her to realize that she could join him and not worry about earthly troubles any longer, and then sealing the deal by convincing her of the spirit’s affection for her: “Lo! see thy dim arms are extending for me;” (37).  Death manipulates her feelings for her lover by puppeteering the spirit to reach for her.  Clearly, Dacre’s subtle personification of death appears alluring and inviting.  This begs the question, though, of whether readers should be scared of the power death can have or comforted into not fearing it.

Further evidence of Dacre’s use of death as a manipulator comes in her poem “Death and the Lady.”  In this poem, death is actually a character, Death, and has a conversation with the Lady, in which it tells her that she will soon join it on the other side.  The poem is a back-and-forth between Death and the Lady where she laments that her life will end in her prime and Death brings her to the realization that her life was nothing but misery and pain, and death would be an improvement. 

Death’s manipulation begins by claiming that taking her life would be doing her a favor: “What hast thou known but care and sorrow?/Thy lovers faithless all?/And if I spare thee till to-morrow/Some horrid ill may fall” (57-60).  When she continues to resist his temptations, though, he moves on from gentle persuasions to belittling her: “Thou griev’st to die, others grieve none,/Nor miss thee from the scene” (115-6).  It tells her that she is insignificant and since no one will miss her when she’s gone, she may as well leave with Death now.  From there, Death moves back toward the enticements of death, promising her a robe of blue vapors and the chance to feel her mother’s embrace again.  The Lady’s resistance slowly crumbles until it shatters completely in the final stanza: “Then rising from her silken bed,/ She gave her hand to Death;/His touch’d, benumb’d, her soul with dread,/And stopp’d her rising breath” (157-60).   

The manipulation by death that Dacre employs in her writings is far more obvious in this poem, where death is able to take on a form and a voice of its own.  The exploitation of the Lady’s feelings is much less subtle than that of the mistress’ was in the former poem.  Death plays on her life full of misfortune and her desire to see her mother again, very clear manipulation techniques.  Once again, though, the issue arises of whether death’s power of manipulation is meant to be frightening or whether the benefits it can offer outweigh its objects’ fear.  Either could be a possibility in both of Dacre’s poems, “The Mistress to the Spirit of her Lover” and “Death and the Lady.”

 So the question remains of Dacre’s intentions: Is she attempting to scare her readers with gothic poems that make death visible in people’s lives or is she attempting to convince them that there are actually upsides to death and they should accept it, as the women in her poems do? 




“Charlotte Dacre.”  Wikipedia: The Free Encyclopedia.  20 May 2012.  Wikimedia Foundations, Inc.  25 May 2012. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Charlotte_Dacre

Dacre, Charlotte.  "The Mistress to the Spirit of her Lover."  Hours of Solitude: A collection of original poems, 2 vols.  London: Hughes and Ridgeway, 1805.

Dacre, Charlotte.  "Death and the Lady."  Hours of Solitude: A collection of original poems, 2 vols.  London: Hughes and Ridgeway, 1805.

Photo source: http://www.designyourway.net/teme/The_grim_reaper_by_Funerium.jpg

Friday, May 25, 2012

Societal Bait in Frankenstein's Framed Narrations


(http://comikaider.blogspot.com/2009/11/wang-of-frankenstein.html)

In representing Romantic irony, Shelley's major work harbors the same strength of purpose as Coleridge's tale told by the marinere.  The interlacing story telling of Frankenstein, controlled by multiple first person tellers, yields much more liberally to readerly dynamics than a single stream narrative.  Just as we observe the marinere from behind the wedding guest, we observe Dr Frankenstein from behind Walton, and more confidently place judgments upon them.  In a similar way, Shelley distances herself from the main discourse of the work that reveals both the purpose of creating the monster and also the characteristic behavior of the doctor.  By including the monster, a fictionalized creation framed by the creator’s character itself, Shelley emphasizes the importance of the interplay between the layers of the narrative. The monster not only represents the product of the doctor and the shadow of his maker’s flaws, but must be considered in accordance with the doctor’s narrative as well.  Through the birth of the monster Shelley plays a double commentary on societal invention and values of passion and beauty.  Shelley deliberately victimizes the monster within his narrative in order to comment on the societal judgment occurring throughout the whole narrative.  Shelley includes the framing narratives for the sake of the monster’s narrative.
Because the monster’s story is centralized, his serves as a pinnacle that cultivates the purpose of the other layers. The question we should ask is what does the monster’s values contribute, within the frame of the doctor’s values.  The monster’s narrative, which includes his pressure to reject himself, indulgence in intellectual pursuits, overpowering passion, is in dialogue with the doctor, who becomes sickly obsessive and irresponsible.
The ethics presented by Shelley are ones the readers are unprepared to accommodate. As a man’s creation, how might a reader judge the monster?  Shelley, in combination with centralizing the monster’s story, purposefully instructs this difficulty in order to give the monster freedom to judge the society he observes and refute any ethical judgment from the reader.  Because we are not meant to accuse the monster of his criminalities, we must focus instead of the monster’s placement in Frankenstein’s and Walton’s lives.
The monster, on his own accord, reveals the disgraceful value society upholds, while simultaneously demonstrating them.  Any ethical judgments upon the monster can only be refracted onto his creator and the people surrounding him.  The value of beauty shakes the entire narrative by society’s rejection of the monster on sight.  He learns this and enforces it by requesting an ugly duplicate of himself and accepting alienation.  As a new human—probably Shelley is stretching this in a parodic way—the monster is clean of imprints, therefore quick to learn to despise himself by the guidance of those around him. His looks are first and foremost, while violence is secondary to and effected by his ugly nature.
             The violence of the monster is related to the passion of his creator.  Both the monster and the doctor succumb to destructive passion, which is criticized by the Romantic Shelley.  Frankenstein’s monster acts as a bended mirror of himself.  As we attempt to judge the monster we in fact just the doctor.  Once again the framed narration works similarly as Coleridge; the doctor’s flaws are peeled open before an audience, Walton, who is at risk of committing the same destruction.  



"The Rime of the Ancient Marinere", S.T. Coleridge (1798)
Frankenstein, Mary Shelley (1823)

Selfishness and Death: All the Good Stuff in Byron and Clare


            The poems “Darkness” by Lord Byron and “An Invite, to Eternity” by John Clare each unravel a potential death – one of society, and the other, of a poet and his maiden. Each poem also develops a theme of choice, and how it can become selfish or self-centered. More specifically, the voice of “An Invite, to Eternity” asks for his maiden to join him in death, which can be viewed at one time as endearing or as irrational at another. “Darkness”, on the other hand, portrays a scenario in which men and women are self-motivated in their efforts to avoid death and its traps. This contrast between the two poems reveals different perceptions of human resolve in the acknowledgement of death and peril’s existence.
            Although fantastic descriptions and devastating trials appear again and again, the first line of “Darkness” notes that it “was not all a dream” (Byron l. 1). In effect, this provokes the reader to consume the poem as factual or, at least, probable. Similarly, John Clare writes in “An Invite, to Eternity” that the maiden and speaker will choose “At once to be and not to be” (Clare l. 21), thus discarding the Shakespearean query and terming it a conjunction. In both instances, death is made realistic in its existence, even if its features remain surreal. Consequently, the poems can become lenses into the human reaction to a real “death”.
            The speaker of “An Invite, to Eternity” may propose death to his maiden, but he does not imply the death of his ego. In what is a consensual pursuit of death, he ruminates on how the skies “around us lie” (l. 24) and as such, posits himself and the maiden in the center of it all. He suggests that sisters “know us not” (l. 16), again placing emphasis on them. Again, the poem itself acts as a person inviting someone else to death and places the human being as the controller. With this setting in mind, it is very interesting to dissect intention: is this a selfish manipulation of life, or is it a well-intentioned plea for a loved one? Rather than ask, “would thou go with me”, the speaker asks “wilt thou go with me,” (l. 1) as a sign that the poem is not simple a test, as in the situation of Abraham and God, and instead is a plea in the face of something imminent.
            Throughout the poem “Darkness”, monstrosity and decline are depicted vividly. Also depicted are the actions of people, whose hearts “were chill’d into a selfish prayer for light” (l. 9). This proposal of selfish people roaming the earth is juxtaposed with the decline of defined social roles and kingdoms and huts “burned for beacons” (l. 13). The only instance of selflessness comes in the role of a non-human – a dog. This inclusion may be deliberate, in order to show how humanity has turned against one another in its fight against darkness and death. Perhaps as a nod to how realistic the event is, not even the faithful dog survives. This fact complicates the notion of selflessness being the ultimate good, as it seems short-sighted for the dog in the end to think of another. Regardless, the plagues upon the dog and of humanity illustrate the power of death. For whatever reason, Byron couples this selfishness with the decline of social institutions and the fact that “the populous and the powerful was a lump” (l. 70). The selfish pursuits of man, then, are bleak and unruly.
The Metamorphosis of Narcissus (1937) by Salvador Dali
            In each poem, people confront death. Clare points to the “sad non-identity” of death, and Byron moreover mentions the world as “Seasonless… manless” (l. 71). The poems are similar in their advocacy for ego, with a lack of communal identity in “Darkness” and individual identity in “An Invite” seen as unfavorable. In my reading, though, the speaker of “An Invite” selfishly joins death and requests for his love to come along, while in “Darkness”, men “selfishly” fight death and look out for themselves. What is more interesting, in the end, is how one defines selfishness in the face of death. If acceptance and care for others is paramount, than the people of “Darkness” are wildly selfish and brutish. Yet, if those qualities are not, one could see why the faithful dog is foolish. Interestingly, if one puts a premium on care for others, the speaker of “An Invite” can either be read as a selfish promoter of death to a loved one, or as fool who is faithful to a lover to the point where it kills them both. 

Nature and the Ideal in "La Belle Dame sans Merci"


            Nature is a strong aspect of John Keat’s ballad “La Belle Dame sans Merci” (or “The Beautiful Woman without Mercy”). This isn’t surprising because nature can do many things within writing. At the time that he wrote this, it was often being used to create sublime images in order to affect the emotions and experiences of not only the characters within the narratives but also the people reading them. John Keats’s poem is no exception to this as nature works in a variety of ways throughout the piece.
 First, it allows the reader to place the characters in a specific setting because the narrator describes the nature that exists in the area where he meets the knight. We are first told, “The sedge is wither’d from the lake/and no birds sing” (Lines 3-4). This creates an image of a wasting lake side, making the location disheartening. In the next stanza, the narrator reveals that “The squirrel’s granary is full/And the harvest’s done” (Lines 7-8). While this tells us that perhaps this area was lively at one time, it also seems to suggest that winter, a cold and barren season, is upon them. Nature itself is used to reflect the emotions of the knight, who is “alone,” “haggard,” and “woe-begone.” In doing so, it also reinforces his depressive state. In addition, the lake, the squirrel, and the harvest hint at a better time. This creates a contrast between now and then, which begins to reveal the tensions between the real and the ideal (a tension that only increases throughout the ballad).
In the third stanza, Keats begins to use nature in a more directly metaphorical way in order to describe the knight’s physical features. More specifically, he uses flower imagery. One of which is the lily, which is often used as a symbol of death. In addition, the narrator mentions a “fading rose” that is withering in reference to the knight’s cheek. The fading rose shows deterioration in the knight’s life, reinforcing the idea of death and despair. Shifting from the tone, back to the idea of the real versus the ideal, the description of the rose increases the tension between the two. Because he uses words like “fading” and “withereth” to describe the rose, we are shown that he could be more perfect but that he has moved away from that ideal.
After this, the physical concept of nature begins to disappear. It is then replaced by another meaning of “nature”: the personality or disposition of the characters within the knight’s story about meeting the beautiful woman. John Keats takes this idea and uses it to divide the knight and the woman, the real and the ideal. The knight is a mortal man, who longs for the company of the woman. When he loses that company, the longing becomes stronger sending him into loneliness and depression. The woman therefore takes on the role of the ideal because she becomes the thing that is longed for. In addition, she is “full beautiful, a faery’s child” (Line 14). This line suggests that she is supernatural rather than a normal human being, showing that their nature is starkly different. He cannot keep her as his own for long because of the flaws in his own nature that caused him to desire something more than what is real and human. Their nature is further separated because he has such a strong desire for her, but she effortlessly leaves him and seemingly all of kings, princes, and warriors that had appeared to the knight in his dreams in the tenth stanza. The nature of his love is continuous and long-lasting whereas hers is short and fleeting.
When it is revealed to us why he is woe-begone, the references to the physical nature reappear. The knight describes the “cold hill side” and says that the loss of the woman “is why I sojourn here/Alone and palely loitering/Though the sedge is wither’d from the lake/And no bird sing” (Lines 45-48). His use of the phrase “this is why” combined with the word “though” tells us that if he had been in a different emotional state or had had a different experience, he might not be there because the sedge, the lake, and absence of birds are not ideal currently. It therefore only fits his current state of mind.
By connecting the two definitions of nature, Keats reveals why the physical nature has become such an integral part of storytelling, especially in the Gothic tradition where they often use it to create sublime images to affect the characters and readers: nature is a mirror image for our emotions and a representation of the difference between our ideals and realities. 



Keats, John. “La Belle Dame sans Merci.” The Longman Anthology of Gothic Verse. Ed.
Caroline Franklin. Harlow: Pearson, 2011. 492-494. Print.
Photo source: http://mybanyantree.wordpress.com/

The Paradox of Beddoes “Last Man”


                It seems that there are three requirements that need to be met for a person to be considered the “last man”: they have to be the last person on Earth, be alive and be a man (or at least a human being). Interestingly, the “last man” Beddoes writes on ultimately fits none of those descriptions.
                To begin with, though the title of the work ostensibly labels the speaker as a “man”, the text of the poem seems to contradict that notion. To begin with, Beddoes opens the poem with the following lines: “By heaven and hell, and all the fools between them, /I will not die, nor sleep, nor wink my eyes,/ But think myself into a god...” (Beddoes, 1-3). With these three lines, the speaker creates a divide between himself and all other humans. First of all, the speaker says that he will accomplish his goals “By heaven and hell, and all the fools between them”. Presumably, the “fools between them” are the inhabitants of Earth – humans. Yet, the speaker does include himself in this group of “fools”. Furthermore, he goes on to say that he “will not die, nor sleep, nor wink my eyes, but think myself into a god”. The speaker conceives himself as able to turn into a god by forsaking death and sleep – the two actions that all humans must share. Beddoes makes this point even more clear by ending the poem, “…Fear me now; / I am a devil, not a human soul –“(Beddoes, 12-13). The speaker has completed the journey and given up his humanity – thus making it impossible for him to be the “last man”.
                Besides being human, one would assume that any “last man” of Earth would need to be alive to carry the moniker. Yet Beddoes seems to leave the speaker’s mortal condition rather ambiguous in the poem, perhaps even indicating that the speaker is already dead when he begins his journey to dethrone Death. To begin with, the speaker’s pledge to “not die, nor sleep” until he reaches his goal seems to indicate that he cannot die or sleep. There is only way that a person cannot die or sleep: if they are already dead. The speaker could simply be pledging what he cannot actually accomplish, but, if one assumes the speaker’s pledges are given with conviction, then the speaker must be dead (or, as pointed out earlier, at least not human). Beddoes further indicates that the speaker has shuffled off the mortal coil when he writes, “…Or I will burst / Damnation's iron egg, my tomb, and come /Half damned, ere they make lightning of my soul,” (Beddoes, 6-8). The speaker seems to heavily imply that he is beginning his journey in his “iron egg”: a tomb. One could argue that the tomb the speaker speaks of his simply metaphorical. However, the fact that he is coming “half damned, ere they make lightning of my soul” seems to imply that he has already died and must accomplish his goal of slaying death before whoever “they” are (re)capture his soul. If the speaker had to escape from damnation to dethrone death, the implication is that he is already dead – preventing him from being the “last man” in any traditional sense.
                Finally, any “last man” must be the last (or think they are) person on Earth. Beddoes poem seems to imply that the speaker is not, in fact, the last person on Earth. The speaker establishes his ultimate goal thusly: “I'll dethrone / The empty skeleton, and be thy death,” (Beddoes, 10-11). The very act of becoming Death implies that there are still souls for Death to take. Though one could make the argument that the speaker simply wishes for a pyrrhic victory in which death is vanquished but nothing else is accomplished, the speaker refutes this position by commanding his audience to “fear me now”. In order for one acting as Death to inspire fear, there must be mortals that fear Death. If there are other mortals remaining, then the speaker cannot be the “last man”.
                By examining how the speaker defines himself as ultimately not a human, not alive, and not the last person on Earth, one can come to the conclusion that the speaker Beddoes labels as the “last man” is paradoxically neither the “last” nor a “man”. Beddoes, then, does not create a typical apocalypse or “last man” narrative. Yet, he still labels it as such, indicating that he feels the poem still fits within the typical apocalyptic genre of “last man” poetry. Ultimately, the “last man” Beddoes presents seems to have one goal: destroying and taking over the mantle of Death. Perhaps the world Beddoes presents is not ending in the traditional sense, but the person he defines as the “last man” is voluntarily leaving it. It seems to me that Beddoes wants to imply that the world has come to an end by this “last man” choosing to leave it and become a “devil”. It is this loss of humanity and reason and the abandonment of all pursuits non-combative that signals the end of the world for Beddoes, not a simple depletion of numbers.
               
               

Death of Innocence and the Picturesque in Frankenstein


            Frankenstein serves as a warning to any who read it about unshackled passion and drive to the point where it destroys oneself.  In the novel, Frankenstein’s drive to create a living being starts a spiral that ends up destroying himself, his family, and his Creature.  However, as much as it is a warning, it is also a deep tragedy that we must look upon today as a loss of innocence and love of the picturesque and beautiful, two things that can be attributed to being human.  As Frankenstein loses more and more of his loved ones through the novel, he starts to become more and more empty inside and ends up becoming a shell of a man by the end with only one driving goal left in his life: to kill the Creature.  While not without blame in his downfall, this loss of innocence goes beyond the usual that is seen in Gothic Romantic novels and his inevitable tragedy is still worth lamenting over.  At the same time however, the Creature also suffers a similar loss of innocence and appreciation for the picturesque and beautiful.  These two falls parallel each other and offer a sense of tragedy to the lives of both the main characters in the novel. 
            We can trace Frankenstein’s fall of innocence back to his early days when he discovered outdated yet intriguing scientific theories.  These laid a foundation of scientific intrigue that alone were mostly harmless but eventually grew with his learning in the modern sciences into an almost religious fervor to create life from death.  This is the beginning of his fall from innocence and grace that was present all throughout his childhood.  He spent two years working on bringing the Creature to life and neglected his own health, being shut up in his room away from the world.  While being nursed back to health after the Creature came to life, it appears that everything would return to normal, but that was not the case.  The Creature would not allow it, and as his family and friends were picked off one by one, Frankenstein suffers mental breakdowns and detachments from the world around him.  His innocence is more than lost; it is shattered without hope of repair.
            The Creature too has his own story of the loss of innocence.  In his case however, it is not solely because of Frankenstein but because of a variety of other people as well.  When the Creature is first introduced, all it knows is the beauty of the world around it.  As it learns language through the De Laceys, he grows attached to them and hopes to make his presence known.  All he wants is companionship since humans find his sight repulsive, but when he makes himself known to the De Laceys he is run off and they move away once they get sight of him.  Eventually he comes across William, Frankenstein’s younger brother, and ends up killing him, thus starting the chain of events that would cause the Creature to decimate Frankenstein’s family.  However, the Creature no longer has the innocence of the world that he was born with and only lost it because of the harshness of humanity. 

Frankenstein is telling his story to Walton so that he may kill off the Creature if he himself should die, but as readers there is no doubt that it is a warning.  We can see shades of this story in contemporary ones, notably in the book and novel Jurassic Park.  It deals with going too far with science and having to face the consequences, in many cases it is death or being scarred for life from the experience.  We must heed the warning of Frankenstein, or else we will suffer a similar fate of Frankenstein and his Creature.  Our lives are not worth giving up in an unrelenting drive towards something.  All we will leave if that is the case is destruction in our wake.   

Terminal Lastness


                      Photo Courtesy of:http://3.bp.blogspot.com/

Well, in light of my recent presentation, I figured I would write my blog about the concept of “lastness,” and what it means to be “the last man.” In Lovell Beddoes’s version of “The Last Man,” he describes the narrator being stuck in what I would call purgatory, a place between heaven and hell where one religiously gets situated due to their inability to make penance on their transgressions. In pursuit of the title of “the last man,” the narrator attempts to outwit death, which Lovell Beddoes makes apparent through his personification of death in lines such as, “ old Death/ Shall dream he has slain me, and I’ll creep behind him,/ Thrust off the bony tyrant from his throne/ And beat him into dust.” By personifying death, Lovell Beddoes wants readers to understand the lengths at which the narrator will go to obtain the title of the last man, but in his avid pursuit of “lastness” he commits the sin of suicide, and only becomes the last man as the reincarnate of the devil. 
In contrast to Lovell Beddoes’s version, Thomas Campbell’s version of “The Last Man” depicts the narrator as the last remaining person on earth after an apocalyptic event, and instead of personifying death; Campbell personifies nature especially the sun to characterize the narrator as a religious spirit. The narrator speaks to the sun, or the “son” of Christ exclaiming that “ALL worldly shapes shall melt in gloom, The Sun himself must die, /Before this mortal shall assume/ Its immortality!” This quote speaks to the religious implications of the poem, in accordance with religious scripture, the son of Christ must die in order for everyone to ascend into heaven and share in immortal life after death. The narrator stands “prophet-like, that lone one stood/With dauntless words and high” saying to the sun “We are twins in death, proud Sun, / Thy face is cold, thy race is run,/ Tis Mercy bids thee go./ For thou ten thousand thousand years/ Hast seen the tide of human tears,/That shall no longer flow.” The narrator’s profession to the sun speaks to the pride and self-fulfillment he feels from outlasting the rest of his race, thus building up the glory and/or entitlement that comes from being the last of something.

Lastly, Thomas Hood’s version of “The Last Man” discredits and/or “spoofs” the aforementioned poems idea of the last man and lastness in general. The poem depicts a hangman and a peasant who are the two sole surivors of yet another apocalyptic event. In dire need to be “the last man” the hangman hangs the peasant, but instead of finding happiness and eternal glory from being the last man standing, the hangman finds himself lonely and racked with guilt. The narrator, suffering from “terminal lastness,” discredits the other two poets and the positive connotation they associate with the last man, instead through the suffering of the narrator in Hood’s poem, one can now see the ridiculousness surrounding the idea of lastness and can find humor in the lengths the aforementioned narrators would go to assume this position. If you’re the last person, there’s no one left to even award you recognition and/or acknowledgement for your ability to outlast everyone else. Also, just because something, or someone is last doesn’t make them the best. By unearthing the humor and.or ridiculousness surrounding the idea of “lastness” Thomas Hood works to disparage a literary/poetic theme that has continued to make headway even in contemporary times, such as in the 2007 feature film, “I Am Legend,” starring Will Smith.  This movie depicts Smith as legendary for being the last remaining survivor of yet another apocalyptic and cataclysmic event. What is our society’s obsession with “lastness”? And, why do we continue to perpetuate this idea by attributing glory and eternal pride to those who manage to outlast others?