Hey, a movie review! Haven't done that it a long time. And for a movie that is recent! Haven't done that... ever.
So, The Hunger Games. You probably know what it's all about - an adaptation of the bestselling book by Suzanne Collins, about a dystopian American future in which the totalitarian government demands youth from its districts to fight to the death to prevent rebellion. It's a bit more complex than that, of course, but that sentence was getting long as it is, and if you're reading this you have Google. This is about my opinion. So, first impression: I enjoyed it. It was well made, the acting, effects, music, etc. were are excellent, and it was a good and faithful adaptation. Let's talk about that last one first. Fans of the book will love this movie. It is true not only to the plot, but the characters and the themes as well. I'm sure it helped that Suzanne Collins was one of the screenwriters. However, it wasn't so dependent on the book that someone who had never read it would be lost.
I went into the movie expecting it to be the same-old sort of action/YA type genre standard (which I enjoy but is nothing special). To my surprise, the filmmaking was much more interesting than that. My favorite part was how it really tried to put the viewer into the experience of the characters (usually the protagonist, Katniss). So, when she was confused, the camera angles would be confusing, or when there was an explosion right next to her head, all the sound for the next minute was muffled with a loud ringing. While not a complete innovation, it was much better than not even trying to be interesting.
All the other elements worked together very well, too. The acting was good, even powerful sometimes. The tearjerker moment jerked a few tears, the scary moment made me jump, etc. Overall, very well done.
So, should you see it? Sure. If you're a die-hard fan of the book, you've probably already seen and loved it. If you just liked the book, it's a good addition and might add to your appreciation. If you haven't read the book but like dystopian scifi, you will probably like it a lot. If you hate all of those things, however, you probably will hate The Hunger Games movie as well.
Showing posts with label Reviews. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Reviews. Show all posts
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
The Brothers Karamazov
The Brothers Karamazov, by Fyodor Dostoyevsky. Nine hundred and eighty-five pages. Sixty-six chapters. I-don't-know-how-many characters. Completely wonderful. (I recently realized that I will never review a book I don't recommend. When I dislike a book, either there's not much to say about it, or I'm ashamed to admit I read it.) If my review is a bit confusing because I didn't put in enough stuff about the plot, I apologize, but it really is one of those books that's impossible to summarize. Also, I'll occasionally be comparing it to Crime and Punishment, but if you haven't read that, you can just ignore those parts.
(Note: I would like to insert some tangential praise of high school English class, which is where I read Crime and Punishment. I know it's easy to bash English ("it just teaches kids to hate books, blah blah blah..."), but I am a huge fan. Crime and Punishment is something I would never have read on my own - esoteric Russian author, lots of pages, unexciting title, etc. But I read it in class - and loved it. In fact, I loved it so much that I sought out another book by the author. One with even more pages and a less exciting title. And I loved it even more. So I owe an debt to English class, if for nothing more than bringing The Brothers Karamazov into my life. And in fact, while reading the latter, I found myself missing the in-depth discussion environment I had while reading the former. Discussing a book with yourself just isn't the same.)
Anyway. The Brothers Karamazov. Like I said, kind of impossible to summarize, but I'll try. It's about three brothers - Mitya, Ivan, and Alyosha - and their father, Fyodor. And another possibly-brother. When that father is murdered, it seems obvious that the eldest son, Mitya, is the killer. To the astute reader, however, it is even more obvious that nothing is ever that simple.
The murder doesn't occur till halfway through the book, though. Everything before it, and a great deal after it as well, is dedicated to developing the brothers. We learn of Mitya's and Fyodor's rather disturbing woman troubles, and Alyosha's spiritual journey/issues. Ivan has troubles of his own, of course, and I find him to be the most complex brother. I wish that Dostoyevsky had spent more time inside Ivan's head, because he is also the least discussed. As it is, the "main" character is Alyosha. Which I am okay with, because I love Alyosha. In fact, I like all of the brothers, even though I'm not quite sure I'm supposed to.
Alyosha (Aleksey Fyodorovich), the youngest, is the spiritual one, a novice at a monastery and devotee of its resident Elder. He is somewhat of a "holy fool," which is an archetype of Russian literature, and one I wish was more prominent in the Western tradition; I believe it - and Alyosha - really tap into the "as a little child" ideal that is otherwise so hard to explain.
Mitya (aka Dmitry Fyodorovich) is the one most suspected of the murder because he and his father both love the same woman (eeeew) and he believes his father has cheated him out of his inheritance. Again, I like him, even though he is a "scoundrel" (which has rather different connotations here; it means wicked person more than mischievous rascal). He is blatantly immoral, a drunkard, spendthrift, womanizer, gambler - pretty much everything that is despicable about mankind, he is. And yet he has a rigid honor, and is constantly racked by his own conscience. There is a Promethean quality about him that I like very much - a rebel against the universe, but also great and good, a hero.
The thing I liked most about The Brothers Karamazov is the morality and philosophy contained in the story. The relationships are key - Mitya's with his father and lover(s), Alyosha's with his Elder and his family, and Ivan's with himself (he's a tortured intellectual atheist). In Crime and Punishment, I liked that the reader experienced moral discovery with Raskolnikov. At the beginning, she could be convinced that moral law really is just a convention, and some people are above it; Raskolnikov's choices aren't apparent right from the start. The Brothers Karamazov is the same way, although the morality is a bit more complex. I think, though, that the core of the issue is whether or not a person can love and help others (including his family) when both he and they are imperfect, even evil. Can one sinner redeem another?
Perhaps because that question is so complicated, the sense of closure at the end is minimal. Sure, all the important thematic issues are resolved, but I would have liked to know what happened to Ivan. Despite this, I did like the ending a lot, and think it was one of the most powerful parts of an extremely powerful book.
A few words on some more schematic matters: I read the Penguin Classics edition, which was okay. The translation was pretty good, but not beautiful, and had enough notes for me to tell that the original language really is beautiful. It had helpful footnotes, but for some reason they were all at the back of the book, which was annoying. Also it had a very nice introduction, but if you can, don't read it until you've finished the book. Oh, and protip: Grushenka is the same person as Agrafena Alexandrovna. It took me ages to figure that out.
(Note: I would like to insert some tangential praise of high school English class, which is where I read Crime and Punishment. I know it's easy to bash English ("it just teaches kids to hate books, blah blah blah..."), but I am a huge fan. Crime and Punishment is something I would never have read on my own - esoteric Russian author, lots of pages, unexciting title, etc. But I read it in class - and loved it. In fact, I loved it so much that I sought out another book by the author. One with even more pages and a less exciting title. And I loved it even more. So I owe an debt to English class, if for nothing more than bringing The Brothers Karamazov into my life. And in fact, while reading the latter, I found myself missing the in-depth discussion environment I had while reading the former. Discussing a book with yourself just isn't the same.)
Anyway. The Brothers Karamazov. Like I said, kind of impossible to summarize, but I'll try. It's about three brothers - Mitya, Ivan, and Alyosha - and their father, Fyodor. And another possibly-brother. When that father is murdered, it seems obvious that the eldest son, Mitya, is the killer. To the astute reader, however, it is even more obvious that nothing is ever that simple.
The murder doesn't occur till halfway through the book, though. Everything before it, and a great deal after it as well, is dedicated to developing the brothers. We learn of Mitya's and Fyodor's rather disturbing woman troubles, and Alyosha's spiritual journey/issues. Ivan has troubles of his own, of course, and I find him to be the most complex brother. I wish that Dostoyevsky had spent more time inside Ivan's head, because he is also the least discussed. As it is, the "main" character is Alyosha. Which I am okay with, because I love Alyosha. In fact, I like all of the brothers, even though I'm not quite sure I'm supposed to.
Alyosha (Aleksey Fyodorovich), the youngest, is the spiritual one, a novice at a monastery and devotee of its resident Elder. He is somewhat of a "holy fool," which is an archetype of Russian literature, and one I wish was more prominent in the Western tradition; I believe it - and Alyosha - really tap into the "as a little child" ideal that is otherwise so hard to explain.
Mitya (aka Dmitry Fyodorovich) is the one most suspected of the murder because he and his father both love the same woman (eeeew) and he believes his father has cheated him out of his inheritance. Again, I like him, even though he is a "scoundrel" (which has rather different connotations here; it means wicked person more than mischievous rascal). He is blatantly immoral, a drunkard, spendthrift, womanizer, gambler - pretty much everything that is despicable about mankind, he is. And yet he has a rigid honor, and is constantly racked by his own conscience. There is a Promethean quality about him that I like very much - a rebel against the universe, but also great and good, a hero.
The thing I liked most about The Brothers Karamazov is the morality and philosophy contained in the story. The relationships are key - Mitya's with his father and lover(s), Alyosha's with his Elder and his family, and Ivan's with himself (he's a tortured intellectual atheist). In Crime and Punishment, I liked that the reader experienced moral discovery with Raskolnikov. At the beginning, she could be convinced that moral law really is just a convention, and some people are above it; Raskolnikov's choices aren't apparent right from the start. The Brothers Karamazov is the same way, although the morality is a bit more complex. I think, though, that the core of the issue is whether or not a person can love and help others (including his family) when both he and they are imperfect, even evil. Can one sinner redeem another?
Perhaps because that question is so complicated, the sense of closure at the end is minimal. Sure, all the important thematic issues are resolved, but I would have liked to know what happened to Ivan. Despite this, I did like the ending a lot, and think it was one of the most powerful parts of an extremely powerful book.
A few words on some more schematic matters: I read the Penguin Classics edition, which was okay. The translation was pretty good, but not beautiful, and had enough notes for me to tell that the original language really is beautiful. It had helpful footnotes, but for some reason they were all at the back of the book, which was annoying. Also it had a very nice introduction, but if you can, don't read it until you've finished the book. Oh, and protip: Grushenka is the same person as Agrafena Alexandrovna. It took me ages to figure that out.
Friday, July 22, 2011
Ishmael
I recently read a rather interesting book: Ishmael, by Daniel Quinn. It is unusual among other recently read books in that I did not seek it out; my brother bought it because it is required reading for his environmental science class and, well, I'm not one to leave a book unread.
Ishmael is really more of a philosophical treatise than a novel; it takes the form of a series of discussions between a human pupil and his gorilla mentor, Ishmael. The unnamed narrator responds to a newspaper ad seeking a pupil with "an earnest desire to save the world." To his surprise, the teacher is a telepathic gorilla, and the world is in grave danger from the current human model of civilization. He soon learns how the civilized world has based itself on the myth "the world was made for man" and by so doing endangered its own existence. They have several discussions about agriculture, sustainability, population, and how the world might be saved.
There are several things I like about this book. For one thing, I appreciate that even though it is idea-driven, it still has characters and a plot (a simple one). That makes it more enjoyable to read, at least, than a 250-page essay. Additionally, it is very well written, and Quinn presents his arguments convincingly. I also do like that these arguments are in the Socratic format of question and answer. If I ever write a philosophy book (unlikely) it will be in that format. I love it because it's just so hard to argue with.
However, that really only works if the teacher asks questions whose answers are inevitable; that is to say, if he is right. Quinn does have many points that are valid and that the world needs to know and act on: humans must take only what they need, and respect other life on earth, for example. But he also says a great deal that I disagree with. The main point of the book is that the hunter-gatherer societies have it right and the system of more-than-subsistence agriculture we use now is bound to destroy mankind. Now, if your only goal for mankind is continuation of the species, well... yeah, that probably would work the best. But a specific question Ishmael asks his student comes to mind. He asked the student to picture what the world would be like without humans. The narrator replied that it would be a frightening, chaotic jungle (the question was asked to illustrate the point that our culture views the earth as something to be tamed and organized by man). When I considered the same question, I thought, "It's beautiful... but there's no one to appreciate it, no one to discover its secrets and wonders."
As you may have guessed by the fact that it puts the blame for the destruction of the world on the idea "the world was made for man," Ishmael is a decidedly non-religious book (it isn't quite so militant that I would call it anti-religious). A particularly eyebrow-raising part is when Ishmael explains that the accounts of the Fall and Cain and Abel are actually about the agricultural revolution. However, it is also decidedly non-scientific/technological (again, not quite over the line into anti-). I happen to be quite fond of science, technology and religion, and disinclined to look at them as symptoms of a dying world. Take away religion and science, and what is left of humanity? Only the mind of an animal: appropriate, I suppose, for a book whose main assertion seems to be that man is an animal and ought not to put himself above his fellows.
Now, just because I happen to disagree with a lot of its arguments doesn't mean that Ishmael isn't a good book or that you shouldn't read it. Would I spend all this time telling you about something I thought was worthless? Really, it was thought-provoking enough to keep me up several hours. It might force you to consider or discover your own opinions. And it does have a lot to say that needs to be said, and heard. Finally, even if you hate the mere mention of environmentalism and think any account of the Earth in trouble is a myth, it does some good to read something you disagree with every once in a while. It could give you, at the very least, some perspective.
Ishmael is really more of a philosophical treatise than a novel; it takes the form of a series of discussions between a human pupil and his gorilla mentor, Ishmael. The unnamed narrator responds to a newspaper ad seeking a pupil with "an earnest desire to save the world." To his surprise, the teacher is a telepathic gorilla, and the world is in grave danger from the current human model of civilization. He soon learns how the civilized world has based itself on the myth "the world was made for man" and by so doing endangered its own existence. They have several discussions about agriculture, sustainability, population, and how the world might be saved.
There are several things I like about this book. For one thing, I appreciate that even though it is idea-driven, it still has characters and a plot (a simple one). That makes it more enjoyable to read, at least, than a 250-page essay. Additionally, it is very well written, and Quinn presents his arguments convincingly. I also do like that these arguments are in the Socratic format of question and answer. If I ever write a philosophy book (unlikely) it will be in that format. I love it because it's just so hard to argue with.
However, that really only works if the teacher asks questions whose answers are inevitable; that is to say, if he is right. Quinn does have many points that are valid and that the world needs to know and act on: humans must take only what they need, and respect other life on earth, for example. But he also says a great deal that I disagree with. The main point of the book is that the hunter-gatherer societies have it right and the system of more-than-subsistence agriculture we use now is bound to destroy mankind. Now, if your only goal for mankind is continuation of the species, well... yeah, that probably would work the best. But a specific question Ishmael asks his student comes to mind. He asked the student to picture what the world would be like without humans. The narrator replied that it would be a frightening, chaotic jungle (the question was asked to illustrate the point that our culture views the earth as something to be tamed and organized by man). When I considered the same question, I thought, "It's beautiful... but there's no one to appreciate it, no one to discover its secrets and wonders."
As you may have guessed by the fact that it puts the blame for the destruction of the world on the idea "the world was made for man," Ishmael is a decidedly non-religious book (it isn't quite so militant that I would call it anti-religious). A particularly eyebrow-raising part is when Ishmael explains that the accounts of the Fall and Cain and Abel are actually about the agricultural revolution. However, it is also decidedly non-scientific/technological (again, not quite over the line into anti-). I happen to be quite fond of science, technology and religion, and disinclined to look at them as symptoms of a dying world. Take away religion and science, and what is left of humanity? Only the mind of an animal: appropriate, I suppose, for a book whose main assertion seems to be that man is an animal and ought not to put himself above his fellows.
Now, just because I happen to disagree with a lot of its arguments doesn't mean that Ishmael isn't a good book or that you shouldn't read it. Would I spend all this time telling you about something I thought was worthless? Really, it was thought-provoking enough to keep me up several hours. It might force you to consider or discover your own opinions. And it does have a lot to say that needs to be said, and heard. Finally, even if you hate the mere mention of environmentalism and think any account of the Earth in trouble is a myth, it does some good to read something you disagree with every once in a while. It could give you, at the very least, some perspective.
Friday, July 15, 2011
FANTASTIC.
Fantastic, in every sense. That is the only word adequate to describe the movie I will be (sort of) reviewing today. Or rather, it describes my experience of it. Since I am really unable to look at this particular movie critically and rationally, this post is more rant than review. And it discusses everything I have ever wanted to talk about that is remotely related to its main subject. It's like catharsis in blog form. Enjoy.
Yes, I went to see the Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2 premier, and yes I dressed up. Yes, I am slightly obsessed, yes, I enjoy it. There was so much excitement surrounding the event, with it being the last, and being able to share it with friends, that my emotions were already raging before I even stepped in the theater. I know this strongly affected my opinions on the movie, but I think even if I were to watch it again, alone, in my own house, I would still consider it a truly excellent movie. Then again, maybe not. All the same, should you go see it? YES.
Part of what makes me so unsure of my own opinion is the fact that I have disliked all of the other Harry Potter movies, with the exception of 7 part 1, which was quite good although lacking the power of part 2. I have believed it a fact that it is impossible to transport Rowling's singular style, in which the beauty is in the details, to film, a medium that by necessity must neglect details. Actually, I still believe that, but it seems to me that the goal of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2 (henceforth referred to as HP7P2) was different from that of the other movies: to supplement rather than to replace the books. Perhaps it seems that way because all the excitement and suspense of the film (and there was an incredible amount of that - most of the time I was literally trembling with excitement) came from the fact that the audience already knew exactly what was going to happen; we expected everything but it was also like experiencing it for the first time. So it took all of the tremendous emotional power that film is capable of, and channeled it in the right direction. All of the HP movies have been steadily increasing in quality (and that power), but until now I believe it was wrongly directed. I am not sure what changed, exactly (as I said, it might have been only my frame of mind), but whatever it was, I came out at the end feeling like I had viewed a masterpiece.
There were, of course, things I didn't like about HP7P2, mostly: the last spell between Harry and Voldemort, during which the sun most conspicuously did not rise; all the weird Voldemort hugs; and that moment when Harry was standing in King's Cross, all by himself, looking deserted, after the critical line had been said. Sigh. But, as we all know, there has never yet been a perfect movie.
Now, there is something I must address, because HP7P2 also marks the culmination of something that had been coming for years: my last finger was pried off my hatred of Snape, although I tried hard to keep my grasp. I'm sure right now you're reacting just like my friends: "What? How could you still hate Snape? He's so awesome, I love Snape, blah blah blah..."
You see, I have hated Snape much, much more than I have ever hated anyone, living or fictional, in my entire life. That kind of thing doesn't just go away. Also, you have to admit, there is something about hatred that makes you want to hold on to it, and since Snape is fictional, I felt free to hate him viciously without consequences. However. There are a few things you cannot do for someone and still continue to hate them, and crying is one of them. So I no longer hate Snape. I still don't like him. But I just can't hate him.
That's all I have to say for today. But, regardless of how unappealing you find this blog post, or my own experiences and opinions, you really do need to see that movie. I don't think my heartrate will be back to normal for a week.
Yes, I went to see the Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2 premier, and yes I dressed up. Yes, I am slightly obsessed, yes, I enjoy it. There was so much excitement surrounding the event, with it being the last, and being able to share it with friends, that my emotions were already raging before I even stepped in the theater. I know this strongly affected my opinions on the movie, but I think even if I were to watch it again, alone, in my own house, I would still consider it a truly excellent movie. Then again, maybe not. All the same, should you go see it? YES.
Part of what makes me so unsure of my own opinion is the fact that I have disliked all of the other Harry Potter movies, with the exception of 7 part 1, which was quite good although lacking the power of part 2. I have believed it a fact that it is impossible to transport Rowling's singular style, in which the beauty is in the details, to film, a medium that by necessity must neglect details. Actually, I still believe that, but it seems to me that the goal of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2 (henceforth referred to as HP7P2) was different from that of the other movies: to supplement rather than to replace the books. Perhaps it seems that way because all the excitement and suspense of the film (and there was an incredible amount of that - most of the time I was literally trembling with excitement) came from the fact that the audience already knew exactly what was going to happen; we expected everything but it was also like experiencing it for the first time. So it took all of the tremendous emotional power that film is capable of, and channeled it in the right direction. All of the HP movies have been steadily increasing in quality (and that power), but until now I believe it was wrongly directed. I am not sure what changed, exactly (as I said, it might have been only my frame of mind), but whatever it was, I came out at the end feeling like I had viewed a masterpiece.
There were, of course, things I didn't like about HP7P2, mostly: the last spell between Harry and Voldemort, during which the sun most conspicuously did not rise; all the weird Voldemort hugs; and that moment when Harry was standing in King's Cross, all by himself, looking deserted, after the critical line had been said. Sigh. But, as we all know, there has never yet been a perfect movie.
Now, there is something I must address, because HP7P2 also marks the culmination of something that had been coming for years: my last finger was pried off my hatred of Snape, although I tried hard to keep my grasp. I'm sure right now you're reacting just like my friends: "What? How could you still hate Snape? He's so awesome, I love Snape, blah blah blah..."
You see, I have hated Snape much, much more than I have ever hated anyone, living or fictional, in my entire life. That kind of thing doesn't just go away. Also, you have to admit, there is something about hatred that makes you want to hold on to it, and since Snape is fictional, I felt free to hate him viciously without consequences. However. There are a few things you cannot do for someone and still continue to hate them, and crying is one of them. So I no longer hate Snape. I still don't like him. But I just can't hate him.
That's all I have to say for today. But, regardless of how unappealing you find this blog post, or my own experiences and opinions, you really do need to see that movie. I don't think my heartrate will be back to normal for a week.
Saturday, May 28, 2011
Hamlet(s)!!!
Ok, I should just admit defeat and rename this "The Shakespeare Movie Review Blog." I hope you admire my dedication, though: my obsession has led me to spend over ten hours in the library watching every film adaptation of Hamlet I could get my nerdy little hands on. It was fantastic. And now, for your reading and viewing pleasure, I will tell you the merits of all five/six of them, and which one or ones you should watch! You're welcome.
ps. I'm really sorry I haven't posted in so long. First I procrastinated, then blogger locked me out for like a week. Sorry. And as long as I'm apologizing, this post is going to be super long. Sorry.
UPDATE: THIS POST WAS REVISED 3/9/12 FOR ACCURACY AFTER REWATCHING THE DAVID TENNANT VERSION WITH FULL APPRECIATION OF HIS GENIUS.
First, the easiest one to review: the BBC version. As you may know, BBC has made versions of every Shakespeare play ever. I'm guessing they're all pretty boring. This Hamlet is literally a filmed play. On a stage. With no scenery (very little, at least). It's full-length, so over four hours. And it felt like they were reading their lines. Very, very boring. Don't watch it. Directed by Rodney Bennet, starring Derek Jacobi.
Scene of Hamlet's "to be or not to be" soliloquy: the stage. Duh.
The oldest version I watched was the classic 1948 Laurence Olivier adaptation (directed by and starring him). It has a very distinct style, all tortured and suspenseful. It was cut pretty heavily to only two and a half hours; there's no Rosencrantz/Guildenstern or Fortinbras at all, so it's pretty much a purely psychological interpretation. Sometimes you can tell where it was cut, it's not as seamless as some of the others. Also this was the only version I watched where they changed the language of the play, as far as I noticed. So if you wanted to comment on a hasty plan, you could sound all educated and sophisticated by quoting Hamlet: "that would be scanned." But if you had only watched this version, you would say "that would be thought on" instead, and then your nerd friends would probably laugh at you. Also it's in black and white. I know that bothers some people. And the actress playing Gertrude is 11 years younger than Olivier. It gets pretty oedipal. The acting is very good, but it feels old-fashioned. Olivier is a very intense, emotional Hamlet. Also, Jean Simmons wins the prize for best Ophelia.
Location of Hamlet's soliloquy: on top of a tower, above the crashing waves. I like it. It makes it sort of more urgent.
Next, the 1990 version, directed by Franco Zeffirelli and starring Mel Gibson, with Alan Bates as Claudius. Mel Gibson fans might like this one, but I personally am not a huge fan of his style; to quote Hamlet, it has a bit of the "out-Herods Herod" feel to it. This version is the only one I watched that is set in the original medieval period (Olivier's could be, but it was more open-ended in terms of setting). It also has more action than any of the others. It's cut to three hours, but you can't really tell. All the cinematography is very well done; the scenery especially is excellent. However, I have a pretty major problem with it. The Olivier version included the oedipal aspects of the play, this one practically focuses on them, to the extent of portraying the scene in Gertrude's bedroom (where Hamlet kills Polonius) as a huge makeout session. It's actually really distracting from what I think are the main themes of the play. No Fortinbras in this one either, and I think the ending was my least favorite.
Scene of Hamlet's soliloquy: a tomb. Meh, cliche.
Next, Kenneth Branaugh's 1996 version! After watching just two of his Shakespeare adaptations, I'm already kind of a fangirl. First, he wins the prize for most attractive Hamlet. And I really love his acting. This version is completely uncut, making it just over four hours, but I was on the edge of my seat the entire time. It never felt like it was dragging or boring. It helped that there were occasional flashbacks that aren't in Shakespeare's text. For example, the actual murder of old Hamlet was shown (a couple times), and Hamlet's previous relations with Ophelia (which are pretty PG13 level, but if your small child is mature enough to want to sit through four hours of Hamlet, he/she probably knows the facts of life already). This version also wins the prize for best set and best costumes. It's set in Victorian era, and I just love looking at those costumes. And the castle is all full of secret passageways and mirrors and secret mirror-passageways. So perfect. I really love this one, guys. The ending was amazing. It was much more triumphant than any of the others, and perhaps more so than it really merits, but I still liked it a lot. It probably came the closest to making me cry (a good thing). If I'd watched it at night instead of in the middle of the day in a crowded, well-lit library, it probably would have. On a more negative note, the ghost scene is kind of corny. And the music was good, but it needed more of it. Despite that, you should watch this movie. It is a masterpiece.
"To be or not to be" location: in front of a mirror, from behind which Claudius and Polonius are watching. Solid, resounding stamp of approval. That scene made me very happy.
The most recent Hamlet is a 2010 PBS version by the Royal Shakespeare Company, directed by Greg Doran and starring David Tennant (of Doctor Who fame), and Patrick Stewart as Claudius. This one was also really great, a fantastic modern interpretation. You can watch it for free online here. The acting is very good, as is the set, etc. It was very intense, and had a lot to do with mirrors, especially broken ones. Approve. I really like this movie overall. IT IS THE BEST THING IN THE WORLD OMIGOSH DAVID TENNANT SO FANTASTICIf you can't find Kenneth Branaugh's, or don't have the patience for a four-hour movie (this one's only three hours) or have a very strong preference for modern clothes, NO MATTER WHAT watch this one. Better yet, watch both of them. You could watch this one right this very second if you wanted! Just click on the link! DO IT NOW. DAVID TENNANT WINS ALL THE PRIZES.
Location of Hamlet's famous soliloquy: just in a regular hall. What makes it special is the lighting on his face.
Finally is the 2000 version directed by Michael Almereyda and starring Ethan Hawke. I didn't actually watch this one because it was rated R, but since it's a major adaptation I thought I'd mention it anyway. It also has a modern setting, but Hamlet isn't even a prince, he's the son of a CEO. No castles are involved. It sounds like it would be pretty weird. Also, according to the internet, it's terrible. If anyone reading this has seen it, let me know what you thought.
Scene of soliloquy: in a video store. Adds a sort of surreal element.
Aaaaaaaaand the Grand Prize Ultimate Number One Winner is................The Lion King! Because who needs that emo "tragedy" stuff anyway? DAVID TENNANT BECAUSE TRAGEDY IS BEAUTIFUL.
ps. I'm really sorry I haven't posted in so long. First I procrastinated, then blogger locked me out for like a week. Sorry. And as long as I'm apologizing, this post is going to be super long. Sorry.
UPDATE: THIS POST WAS REVISED 3/9/12 FOR ACCURACY AFTER REWATCHING THE DAVID TENNANT VERSION WITH FULL APPRECIATION OF HIS GENIUS.
First, the easiest one to review: the BBC version. As you may know, BBC has made versions of every Shakespeare play ever. I'm guessing they're all pretty boring. This Hamlet is literally a filmed play. On a stage. With no scenery (very little, at least). It's full-length, so over four hours. And it felt like they were reading their lines. Very, very boring. Don't watch it. Directed by Rodney Bennet, starring Derek Jacobi.
Scene of Hamlet's "to be or not to be" soliloquy: the stage. Duh.
The oldest version I watched was the classic 1948 Laurence Olivier adaptation (directed by and starring him). It has a very distinct style, all tortured and suspenseful. It was cut pretty heavily to only two and a half hours; there's no Rosencrantz/Guildenstern or Fortinbras at all, so it's pretty much a purely psychological interpretation. Sometimes you can tell where it was cut, it's not as seamless as some of the others. Also this was the only version I watched where they changed the language of the play, as far as I noticed. So if you wanted to comment on a hasty plan, you could sound all educated and sophisticated by quoting Hamlet: "that would be scanned." But if you had only watched this version, you would say "that would be thought on" instead, and then your nerd friends would probably laugh at you. Also it's in black and white. I know that bothers some people. And the actress playing Gertrude is 11 years younger than Olivier. It gets pretty oedipal. The acting is very good, but it feels old-fashioned. Olivier is a very intense, emotional Hamlet. Also, Jean Simmons wins the prize for best Ophelia.
Location of Hamlet's soliloquy: on top of a tower, above the crashing waves. I like it. It makes it sort of more urgent.
Next, the 1990 version, directed by Franco Zeffirelli and starring Mel Gibson, with Alan Bates as Claudius. Mel Gibson fans might like this one, but I personally am not a huge fan of his style; to quote Hamlet, it has a bit of the "out-Herods Herod" feel to it. This version is the only one I watched that is set in the original medieval period (Olivier's could be, but it was more open-ended in terms of setting). It also has more action than any of the others. It's cut to three hours, but you can't really tell. All the cinematography is very well done; the scenery especially is excellent. However, I have a pretty major problem with it. The Olivier version included the oedipal aspects of the play, this one practically focuses on them, to the extent of portraying the scene in Gertrude's bedroom (where Hamlet kills Polonius) as a huge makeout session. It's actually really distracting from what I think are the main themes of the play. No Fortinbras in this one either, and I think the ending was my least favorite.
Scene of Hamlet's soliloquy: a tomb. Meh, cliche.
Next, Kenneth Branaugh's 1996 version! After watching just two of his Shakespeare adaptations, I'm already kind of a fangirl.
"To be or not to be" location: in front of a mirror, from behind which Claudius and Polonius are watching. Solid, resounding stamp of approval. That scene made me very happy.
The most recent Hamlet is a 2010 PBS version by the Royal Shakespeare Company, directed by Greg Doran and starring David Tennant (of Doctor Who fame), and Patrick Stewart as Claudius. This one was also really great, a fantastic modern interpretation. You can watch it for free online here. The acting is very good, as is the set, etc. It was very intense, and had a lot to do with mirrors, especially broken ones. Approve. I really like this movie overall. IT IS THE BEST THING IN THE WORLD OMIGOSH DAVID TENNANT SO FANTASTIC
Location of Hamlet's famous soliloquy: just in a regular hall. What makes it special is the lighting on his face.
Finally is the 2000 version directed by Michael Almereyda and starring Ethan Hawke. I didn't actually watch this one because it was rated R, but since it's a major adaptation I thought I'd mention it anyway. It also has a modern setting, but Hamlet isn't even a prince, he's the son of a CEO. No castles are involved. It sounds like it would be pretty weird. Also, according to the internet, it's terrible. If anyone reading this has seen it, let me know what you thought.
Scene of soliloquy: in a video store. Adds a sort of surreal element.
Aaaaaaaaand the Grand Prize Ultimate Number One Winner is................
Friday, April 29, 2011
Pathfinder
Salutations, friends! Today I will be reviewing Orson Scott Card's most recent book, Pathfinder. It stars a 13-year-old and is marketed to teens, but really it is not a YA novel at all, and definitely not a children's book. It's pretty complicated and heavy in both plot and themes, not to mention it's over 600 pages. Not that a teenager wouldn't like it, of course - I think many would. But teen lit it is not.
It is the first of a series, but it stands alone very well - by the end, the story is resolved enough that you don't feel like you need to have the next one right now immediately this very second or you will scratch your eyeballs out. (Speaking of which, what is OSC doing writing a new series when Master Alvin is still unwritten??? I swear I will kidnap him and chain him to a computer.)
Anyways. Pathfinder centers around the story of those who have the power to change the past. Following the death of his father, the young protagonist, Rigg, and his friends set out to find his long-lost mother and sister, a quest which leads to startling revelations about his heritage, his powers, and his future. He finds that he is the center of a political upheaval, and factions on every side want to force his hand, or kill him. He must go on the run with the people he cares about, and each of their special gifts will determine their survival - and what they discover about the world they live in.
Pathfinder is science fiction and not fantasy, but, as in many of Card's books, the line between the two genres is slightly blurred. I don't mean his science is faulty (though I would hardly know if it was), but that he uses thematic and genre elements that are characteristic of both. It is set in a quasi-medieval world, complete with scheming queen and not-as-helpless-as-she-seems princess, and the time-manipulation talents possessed by the characters function, on the surface, as magic. However, the science fiction aspect and many of the novel's most important themes are revealed in the segments that take place several thousand years before the main plot, on board a space ship. (Protip: don't read these ahead, no matter how interesting they are. It works much better if you get the new information at its proper place.) Oh, and I guess there's some scifi right at the end of the main plot, too, if we're going to be picky. Together they weave a complete and compelling narrative. In my opinion, Orson Scott Card is very, very good at fusing genres; Pathfinder is a book that would appeal to both the adamant fantasist and the hardcore scifi nerd.
A note on time travel: there's lots of it. And it's confusing. The book centers around the concept, but even if you read tons of time travel lit, you'll still be confused. OSC says it himself: the book is "in deliberate defiance of the consensus rules of science fictional time travel" (from the acknowledgments). What does that mean? If you're a logician, you'd better not read this book. Still, don't let that stand in the way of your enjoyment of the book. As a highly reputable and trusted source once said, "time travel is never non-confusing, and if you make it non-confusing, it's cause you're ignoring stuff."
In terms of literary mechanics, Card is superlative as usual. His characters are likable and realistic, if perhaps not quite as personable as in some of his previous books. The plot is gripping, especially when you don't try to skip to the end and find out what's really the deal with this planet. The magic system (I mean, the science system) is very original and convincing. I always like his systems. Style and themes are a given; the man's a genius, he probably writes meaningful, relevant, beautiful prose in his sleep. Pathfinder is certainly a thinking book; if it doesn't make you wonder about a few things you're probably not paying attention. And of course Card has something profound to say about the human condition. He always does, you know.
In conclusion, read it. If you like fantasy, if you like scifi, if you're a Card fanatic like me, if you've never heard of him before, teen, adult, whatever, just read Pathfinder. If you are a small child, have an easily explodable head, are a slacker who can't read more than 500 pages at a time, or hate all genre books, it probably is not for you. But the rest of you awesome people out there, read it.
It is the first of a series, but it stands alone very well - by the end, the story is resolved enough that you don't feel like you need to have the next one right now immediately this very second or you will scratch your eyeballs out. (Speaking of which, what is OSC doing writing a new series when Master Alvin is still unwritten??? I swear I will kidnap him and chain him to a computer.)
Anyways. Pathfinder centers around the story of those who have the power to change the past. Following the death of his father, the young protagonist, Rigg, and his friends set out to find his long-lost mother and sister, a quest which leads to startling revelations about his heritage, his powers, and his future. He finds that he is the center of a political upheaval, and factions on every side want to force his hand, or kill him. He must go on the run with the people he cares about, and each of their special gifts will determine their survival - and what they discover about the world they live in.
Pathfinder is science fiction and not fantasy, but, as in many of Card's books, the line between the two genres is slightly blurred. I don't mean his science is faulty (though I would hardly know if it was), but that he uses thematic and genre elements that are characteristic of both. It is set in a quasi-medieval world, complete with scheming queen and not-as-helpless-as-she-seems princess, and the time-manipulation talents possessed by the characters function, on the surface, as magic. However, the science fiction aspect and many of the novel's most important themes are revealed in the segments that take place several thousand years before the main plot, on board a space ship. (Protip: don't read these ahead, no matter how interesting they are. It works much better if you get the new information at its proper place.) Oh, and I guess there's some scifi right at the end of the main plot, too, if we're going to be picky. Together they weave a complete and compelling narrative. In my opinion, Orson Scott Card is very, very good at fusing genres; Pathfinder is a book that would appeal to both the adamant fantasist and the hardcore scifi nerd.
A note on time travel: there's lots of it. And it's confusing. The book centers around the concept, but even if you read tons of time travel lit, you'll still be confused. OSC says it himself: the book is "in deliberate defiance of the consensus rules of science fictional time travel" (from the acknowledgments). What does that mean? If you're a logician, you'd better not read this book. Still, don't let that stand in the way of your enjoyment of the book. As a highly reputable and trusted source once said, "time travel is never non-confusing, and if you make it non-confusing, it's cause you're ignoring stuff."
In terms of literary mechanics, Card is superlative as usual. His characters are likable and realistic, if perhaps not quite as personable as in some of his previous books. The plot is gripping, especially when you don't try to skip to the end and find out what's really the deal with this planet. The magic system (I mean, the science system) is very original and convincing. I always like his systems. Style and themes are a given; the man's a genius, he probably writes meaningful, relevant, beautiful prose in his sleep. Pathfinder is certainly a thinking book; if it doesn't make you wonder about a few things you're probably not paying attention. And of course Card has something profound to say about the human condition. He always does, you know.
In conclusion, read it. If you like fantasy, if you like scifi, if you're a Card fanatic like me, if you've never heard of him before, teen, adult, whatever, just read Pathfinder. If you are a small child, have an easily explodable head, are a slacker who can't read more than 500 pages at a time, or hate all genre books, it probably is not for you. But the rest of you awesome people out there, read it.
Monday, February 21, 2011
John Donne: Selected Poetry and Prose
Hi there! I'm currently working on something big, just for you! But I don't want you to get bored and think I'm not posting anything ever again. So in the meantime, here's a rant about one of my very favorite poets.
Really, this is going to be more of a rant than an actual review, because I'm pretty biased. In case you haven't heard, John Donne was a sixteenth/seventeenth-century English poet. He had a rather wild and troubled youth, then converted to Anglicism and became a priest. He married the love of his life (under opposition from her family) and they had 10 children. His family wanted him to be a politician but, fortunately for us, he persisted in writing and became one of the greatest poets of his age (ever).
About the book itself: it includes all his "Songs and Sonnets," most of his elegies, his two marriage poems, a couple satires, most of his religious poems, including the holy sonnets, as well as his "Devotions" and extracts from a few of his sermons. It's edited by T.W. and R.J Craik, in case you want to find this particular book, which I think is a nice, not too long selection of Donne's work.
John Donne has something for everybody. He has funny poems ("The Flea" and "Go and Catch a Falling Star" come to mind) sexy poems (really. He wrote lots of those. They're good for seducing people.), romantic poems ("Valediction: Forbidding Mourning" might be the absolute most beautiful, romantic poem in the English language. "The Sun Rising" is a close second.), and plenty of religious poems.Wild youth, priestly adulthood, remember? I truly love his religious poems. They are (sometimes excruciatingly) beautiful and always ring true. My personal favorite is "A Hymn to my God, in my Sickness," but all of them are good. Much of his later poetry was influenced by the death of his beloved wife, and his own chronic sickness. Certainly his Devotions and sermons are. Devotion #17 is actually the origin of both the common phrases "ask not for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee" and "no man is an island." Probably didn't know those were about the same thing, did you?
Since Donne wrote a long time ago, and is most famous for using complicated metaphysical analogies, his poetry can be hard to read. To a student of literature, or even someone who reads the Bible a lot, the language shouldn't be a problem. For those others of you, most volumes of his poetry include some sort of note system with modernizations and explanations. The edition I read did, and for the most part they were helpful, but occasionally I would get one that was debatable, or just wrong. So if you do happen to read the very same book, use the notes, but do keep a few grains of salt handy.
In conclusion, John Donne is awesome, and you should definitely read his writings. You don't necessarily have to get a book to read them, though; just google "John Donne poems" and you will find plenty of beautiful, romantic, old-timey goodness.
Really, this is going to be more of a rant than an actual review, because I'm pretty biased. In case you haven't heard, John Donne was a sixteenth/seventeenth-century English poet. He had a rather wild and troubled youth, then converted to Anglicism and became a priest. He married the love of his life (under opposition from her family) and they had 10 children. His family wanted him to be a politician but, fortunately for us, he persisted in writing and became one of the greatest poets of his age (ever).
About the book itself: it includes all his "Songs and Sonnets," most of his elegies, his two marriage poems, a couple satires, most of his religious poems, including the holy sonnets, as well as his "Devotions" and extracts from a few of his sermons. It's edited by T.W. and R.J Craik, in case you want to find this particular book, which I think is a nice, not too long selection of Donne's work.
John Donne has something for everybody. He has funny poems ("The Flea" and "Go and Catch a Falling Star" come to mind) sexy poems (really. He wrote lots of those. They're good for seducing people.), romantic poems ("Valediction: Forbidding Mourning" might be the absolute most beautiful, romantic poem in the English language. "The Sun Rising" is a close second.), and plenty of religious poems.Wild youth, priestly adulthood, remember? I truly love his religious poems. They are (sometimes excruciatingly) beautiful and always ring true. My personal favorite is "A Hymn to my God, in my Sickness," but all of them are good. Much of his later poetry was influenced by the death of his beloved wife, and his own chronic sickness. Certainly his Devotions and sermons are. Devotion #17 is actually the origin of both the common phrases "ask not for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee" and "no man is an island." Probably didn't know those were about the same thing, did you?
Since Donne wrote a long time ago, and is most famous for using complicated metaphysical analogies, his poetry can be hard to read. To a student of literature, or even someone who reads the Bible a lot, the language shouldn't be a problem. For those others of you, most volumes of his poetry include some sort of note system with modernizations and explanations. The edition I read did, and for the most part they were helpful, but occasionally I would get one that was debatable, or just wrong. So if you do happen to read the very same book, use the notes, but do keep a few grains of salt handy.
In conclusion, John Donne is awesome, and you should definitely read his writings. You don't necessarily have to get a book to read them, though; just google "John Donne poems" and you will find plenty of beautiful, romantic, old-timey goodness.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Henry V
Salutations, friends! Welcome to my first review, which is not, in fact, of a book at all. It also is an example of what my reviews will typically be like: not of popular or controversial material, and probably not terribly up-to-date either. In fact, I doubt that any of my reviews will help a single person decide what to read or watch. Instead, consider them suggestions, something I encountered and loved, or maybe didn't love, and wanted to tell you about.
Today I am reviewing a film adaptation of Shakespeare's Henry V, directed by Kenneth Branagh, who also played the title role. It came out in 1989, so don't go looking for it in theaters or anything. Also, it was nominated for Oscars in Best Director and Best Actor in a Leading Role, so it really doesn't need me to justify it to you. But I'm going to anyway.
As you may or may not know, I adore Shakespeare. I love his words, his characters, everything about his plays. Therefore, it is not actually possible for me to critique the play itself (I don't think anyone is really up to it, since to criticize something, you really should be able to do it better. And Shakespeare, well, it's Shakespeare). I'm focusing on the film itself, as a work of cinematic art. And, I must say, it does remarkably well.
If you are considering which of the histories to see, or which version of Henry V to watch for your history of England class, the answer should unquestionably be: this one. The acting is marvelous, the cinematography (lighting, camera angles, set and music) beautiful. Previous to watching it, I had not been as huge a fan of Shakespeare's histories as I was of his comedies and tragedies. I thought they were a little bit (gasp) boring. Now, I am resolved to read as many of them as I can fit in between my classes. Yes, it's that good. You probably know the plot of Henry V, since you are nerdy enough to read a blog such as this. But, just in case, it is the story, based on the real honest-to-goodness history of England, of the battle of Agincourt and the events leading up to it. King Henry of England is advised that the throne of France rightly belongs to him, and he takes an invasion force across the channel to claim it. Shakespeare, though, adds much more to these historical details, and the result is a portrait of a torn king, and an insight into the question of a just war.
I loved this movie for many different reasons. As mentioned previously, the acting is superb. My pet peeve about Shakespeare in film or theatre is that the actors always feel they need to shout every line that contains the least bit of emotion. It's very annoying. Here, that didn't happen! I was so excited! Shouting was used only when appropriate, e.g. on the battlefield. Kenneth Branagh did an excellent job of making his voice more intense when the lines called for it, in a way that I think is far more powerful than mere volume. The play itself is very powerful, and this adaptation made it even more so. Henry's two main speeches - the eve of the battle and the St. Crispin's Day speech - were well done and very moving; I even found myself tearing up a bit. The multiple battle scenes are by no stretch of the imagination boring, so you can even make your action-fan boyfriend watch it with you. Just tell him it's a war movie - which it is.
Many Shakespeare adaptations are little more than filmed plays, but this one had a strong cinematic element. The music was intense but not distracting, which was wonderful, since I love good music in my movies. The costumes and setting were absolutely stunning (it actually won an Oscar for costume design). Also striking was the use of lighting, especially in the initial scene, where Henry is persuaded to go to war, and the scene of the night before battle. It added a symbolic touch that I really appreciated, and emphasizes rather than detracts from the main themes of the play. I, since I am a bit of a history nerd, also appreciated the portrayal of the Battle of Agincourt. Throughout the film it was grey and raining, which contributed to the atmosphere and mood. However, it also contributed to the mud which was the real cause of the overwhelming victory; it was basically a crowd disaster with lots of horses and sharp things, even though that was not known in Shakespeare's time. It also included the longbows that were the presumed cause of victory until pretty recently.
Despite my overwhelming love for this film, there were a couple things I had a problem with. One, there were a few scenes in French which I, having only ever taken classes in Japanese and Latin, was unable to understand. And there were no subtitles, which I was really kinda sad about, since it looked pretty funny. So next time put subtitles, Kenneth Branagh. On a more serious note, at the end of the battle scene, the victorious army walked through the field of dead singing a hymn, "Non Nobis, Domine" (which I could understand). It translates to "not to us, Lord, but to thy name the glory" and was very triumphant and glorious-sounding. Yes, very emotional, extremely moving, but to what end? To my mind, war has been glorified enough and does not need any more romanticism attached to it. However, this does fit with the intent of Shakespeare's original play, which was a bit of a propaganda piece for England.
Anyway, that is about everything I have to say about Henry V. I encourage you to see it and read the play, because it is wonderful. Thank you for suffering through this terribly long review, and I hope it didn't turn you off my blog entirely. Have a fantastic day.
Today I am reviewing a film adaptation of Shakespeare's Henry V, directed by Kenneth Branagh, who also played the title role. It came out in 1989, so don't go looking for it in theaters or anything. Also, it was nominated for Oscars in Best Director and Best Actor in a Leading Role, so it really doesn't need me to justify it to you. But I'm going to anyway.
As you may or may not know, I adore Shakespeare. I love his words, his characters, everything about his plays. Therefore, it is not actually possible for me to critique the play itself (I don't think anyone is really up to it, since to criticize something, you really should be able to do it better. And Shakespeare, well, it's Shakespeare). I'm focusing on the film itself, as a work of cinematic art. And, I must say, it does remarkably well.
If you are considering which of the histories to see, or which version of Henry V to watch for your history of England class, the answer should unquestionably be: this one. The acting is marvelous, the cinematography (lighting, camera angles, set and music) beautiful. Previous to watching it, I had not been as huge a fan of Shakespeare's histories as I was of his comedies and tragedies. I thought they were a little bit (gasp) boring. Now, I am resolved to read as many of them as I can fit in between my classes. Yes, it's that good. You probably know the plot of Henry V, since you are nerdy enough to read a blog such as this. But, just in case, it is the story, based on the real honest-to-goodness history of England, of the battle of Agincourt and the events leading up to it. King Henry of England is advised that the throne of France rightly belongs to him, and he takes an invasion force across the channel to claim it. Shakespeare, though, adds much more to these historical details, and the result is a portrait of a torn king, and an insight into the question of a just war.
I loved this movie for many different reasons. As mentioned previously, the acting is superb. My pet peeve about Shakespeare in film or theatre is that the actors always feel they need to shout every line that contains the least bit of emotion. It's very annoying. Here, that didn't happen! I was so excited! Shouting was used only when appropriate, e.g. on the battlefield. Kenneth Branagh did an excellent job of making his voice more intense when the lines called for it, in a way that I think is far more powerful than mere volume. The play itself is very powerful, and this adaptation made it even more so. Henry's two main speeches - the eve of the battle and the St. Crispin's Day speech - were well done and very moving; I even found myself tearing up a bit. The multiple battle scenes are by no stretch of the imagination boring, so you can even make your action-fan boyfriend watch it with you. Just tell him it's a war movie - which it is.
Many Shakespeare adaptations are little more than filmed plays, but this one had a strong cinematic element. The music was intense but not distracting, which was wonderful, since I love good music in my movies. The costumes and setting were absolutely stunning (it actually won an Oscar for costume design). Also striking was the use of lighting, especially in the initial scene, where Henry is persuaded to go to war, and the scene of the night before battle. It added a symbolic touch that I really appreciated, and emphasizes rather than detracts from the main themes of the play. I, since I am a bit of a history nerd, also appreciated the portrayal of the Battle of Agincourt. Throughout the film it was grey and raining, which contributed to the atmosphere and mood. However, it also contributed to the mud which was the real cause of the overwhelming victory; it was basically a crowd disaster with lots of horses and sharp things, even though that was not known in Shakespeare's time. It also included the longbows that were the presumed cause of victory until pretty recently.
Despite my overwhelming love for this film, there were a couple things I had a problem with. One, there were a few scenes in French which I, having only ever taken classes in Japanese and Latin, was unable to understand. And there were no subtitles, which I was really kinda sad about, since it looked pretty funny. So next time put subtitles, Kenneth Branagh. On a more serious note, at the end of the battle scene, the victorious army walked through the field of dead singing a hymn, "Non Nobis, Domine" (which I could understand). It translates to "not to us, Lord, but to thy name the glory" and was very triumphant and glorious-sounding. Yes, very emotional, extremely moving, but to what end? To my mind, war has been glorified enough and does not need any more romanticism attached to it. However, this does fit with the intent of Shakespeare's original play, which was a bit of a propaganda piece for England.
Anyway, that is about everything I have to say about Henry V. I encourage you to see it and read the play, because it is wonderful. Thank you for suffering through this terribly long review, and I hope it didn't turn you off my blog entirely. Have a fantastic day.
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