I'd Give it a Seventy-Three

~or~
"It's Got a Good Beat and You Can Dance to It"

If The Tempest were a new song being showcased by Dick Clark on American Bandstand, and I were one of those goopy teenage dancers on the show that they asked to grade the music, the title above is what I'd give it. When I was little - say five-ish, American Bandstand was busy dying a slow death on ABC. I remember being dumbfounded and appalled at its spectacle all at once. If the teens on the show with their headbands, tight pants and feathered hair had been getting down to a Shakespearean performance, I'm sure I would have found the thing a whole lot more entertaining.

Who knows? Maybe they tried it once, and, despite the mediocre ratings, modern interpretative dance was born!

An Aside: Did you know that B.B. King is the only performer to never lip-sync on American Bandstand? Oh the disillusionment! Next they'll be telling us that that's not Michael Jackson's real nose. But how heartening to know there is still one Musical Icon out there who puts his real self on the line for his public - even those that might be watching American Bandstand - day in and day out. Now that's integrity, friends.

Okay, so we've established that I feel The Tempest is a perfectly decent work, but no masterpiece. Given how I've lambasted the plot and action previously, it's time to make clear why it's still better than most of the junk playwrights churn out today. So, drumroll please! It's the moment you've all been waiting for! Here are:

The Top Ten Great Things about The Tempest

1. The courting of Ferdinand and Miranda
2. The juxtaposition of Caliban and Ariel
3. The use of language
4. Gonzalo's utopian scheme
5. Caliban as a creative character
6. The muddle of the meaning
7. Prospero's farewell speech
8. "An Excellent Dumb Discourse"
9. Did I say ten?
10. I must have meant eight.
11. Eight is such a nice number, I always think.
12. Yogi Berra wore number eight.
13. So did Willie Stargell.
14. Bill Dickey too, which I've never understood.
15. The Yankees retired the number 8 twice in the same year.
16. For Berra and Dickey.
17. What's up with that?
18. Gary Carter also wore 8 - apparently a good number for catchers.
19. Perhaps because they frequently bat eighth?
20. Cal Ripken had eight on his jersey, too.
21. Carl Yastrzemski donned the great 8.
22. And Joe Morgan.
23. The Good old Big Red Machine.
24. Pete Rose did NOT wear number 8.
25. Clearly, as a baseball fan, I must have meant 8.
26. I can't even think of a famous number 10 ballplayer.
27. Anyone? (This is what the "Comments" function is really for, people...)
28. Plus, if there were no eight, you couldn't have that joke about how 7 ate 9.
29. That's right, eight is a homophone.
30. Unlike a certain number I could mention between 9 and 11.
31. Eight rocks! Woo-hoo! Yay eight!
32. (Don't feel bad, ten. We can't all be eight.)

1. The courting of Ferdinand and Miranda
In one of my previous entries, I mentioned the absurd "insta-love" vibes between Miranda and Ferdinand. This is not just a matter of me questioning the potential for Love at First Sight. This is me questioning the potential for a woman who has been raised on a island where she's never known any man but her father and the deformed slave who's always trying to sexually assault her, never seen any females, nor witnessed any exchange of human affection between man and woman suddenly, apropos to nothing, getting instantly crazy with the love bug for an unkempt young man (at least, I assume surviving a storm at sea, being thrown from your ship and washing ashore on an almost deserted island would lead to a bit of hair ruffling and robe marring, even if you're the Prince of Naples) who shows up at her cave. He's just gone through a harrowing physical experience, and is certain he's just lost his beloved father to Davy Jones Locker. But without exchanging a word, one look at each other and Shazam! Cue Bolero, put the champagne on ice and get out the raw oysters. Time to kick off Improbablooza: Lovefest 2004. 'Cuz these kids dig each other in a big way.

The whole thing is obviously more than absurd. But what is not absurd is their courting scene, which takes up Act III, Scene I. In this scene, Ferd is moving thousands of logs to and fro; this is the task Prospero has given him for no real reason (see February 19th entry). Ferdinand doesn't mind too much; the vision of his new-found angel Miranda lightens his labors. Miranda shows up and tries to take over the pointless log shuffling duties so Ferd, who's probably pretty tired at this point given his busy day, can rest. Ferd gallantly refuses, and the exchange that follows is, well, sweet. In yet another of his pointless tyrannical moves, Prospero has ordered Miranda not to reveal her name to Ferd. When Ferd asks, Miranda unhesitatingly fills him in, disobeying her father for the first time. The touching sweetness takes off from there:

Ferd:

I am, in my condition, A prince Miranda; I do think, a king, - I would, not so! - and would no more endure This wooden slavery than I would suffer The flesh-fly blow my mouth. Hear my soul speak: The very instant that I saw you, did My heart fly to your service; there resides, To make me slave to it; and for your sake Am I this patient log man.

Not only is the sentiment a fine one, but notice the clever word play: the use of would/wood, flesh/heart. There's probably even some brilliant Elizabethan pun involved with "log man" that I don't know about. Next, Miranda asks if Ferdinand loves her. You have to admire these straightforward, no-nonsense women.

Ferd:

Oh heaven, O earth, bear witness to this sound, And crown what I profess with kind event, If I speak true! If hollowly, inert What best is boded me to mischief! I, Beyond all limit of what else i' the world, Do love, prize honor you.

Miranda also gets to put her love into eloquent words (in response to Ferdinand’s question about why she is crying):

Miranda:

At mine unworthiness, that dare not offer What I desire to give; and much less take What I shall die to want. But this is trifling; And all the more it seeks to hide itself, The bigger bulk it shows. Hence, bashful cunning; And prompt me, plain and holy innocence! I am your wife, if you will marry me; to be your fellow You may deny me; but I'll be your servant Whether you will it or no.

Good stuff. Sweet, pure, and real. Like high-quality maple syrup from Vermont. Man, I sure could go for a waffle right about now.

Miranda's not the most completely drawn female character in history, but she is more real and eloquent than many of her contemporaries. While their insta-love seems hollow to any audience demanding some credibility, the Ferdinand-Miranda courtship rings true.

2. The juxtaposition of Caliban and Ariel
Caliban and Ariel, the two servants of Prospero - neither really willing - are a great demonstration of the principle of yin and yang. At least, if you consider Earth and Air oppositions. Ariel clearly represents the Air. Even his name is a reference to it. A spirit, he flits about on the wind, raising storm and other mischief from his realm above. He is gentle, untamed, ethereal, powerful, and sweetly lyrical.

Caliban is a thing of the Earth. Described as deformed, he probably does not come very far off the ground, and likely is hunched so his head inclines downward. A visceral being of base, primitive flesh, he's concerned with the land- this is his island, and he should be its king. His unwanted sexual advances on Miranda aim to people the island with little Calibans. He knows the secrets of the earth, and worships crude, physical things. He is violent, untamed, crude and strong. Caliban is, surprisingly, lyrical, in that he speaks in free verse, but he is bitter where Ariel is sweet.

Air and Earth - and Prospero is the master of both. Having not read the rest of the Shakespeare's plays yet, I don't know if this juxtaposition is something he did frequently, or if this is an exceptionally fine rendering. I do not recall this sort of thing being done - at least with this artistry - by the ancient Greeks. But it is something that has been imitated often. Our popular culture is rife with examples. Let me know your favorites. Mine is Bert (pigeon-lover) and Ernie (rubber duckie aficionado). Ed McMahon (Publishers' Clearing House Sweepstakes) and Dick Clark ($100,000 Pyramid) also comes to mind.

Ed McMahon and Dick Clark give me the creeps. But I love Bert and Ernie almost as much as I love waffles and maple syrup. I bet Shakespeare never even got to taste a waffle, let alone one drizzled with pure Vermont maple syrup. What a sad, sad life.

3. Use of language
The Tempest's plot may creak and wheeze to a conclusion more predictable than Dick Clark's Rockin' New Years Eve, AND contain absolutely not a single reference to waffles in any form, but the use of the English language is still waffle-like in its sublimity. If I had read the plays in order I would be able to judge if this is Will at the height of his powers, or just something a man with his talents can toss off to meet a deadline. In the speech below, probably the most famous in The Tempest, the pointless spirit pageant celebrating Ferd and Miranda's betrothal is over, and Ferdinand is worried that Propsero looks worried. (Prospero is worried, in fact, about the laughable Caliban-Trinoculo-Stephano plot on his life, which is patently absurd, given how powerful Prospero, Almighty-Bestower-of-Pinches-and-Cramps, is.)

Prospero:

You do you look, my son, in a moved sort, As if you were dismayed; Be cheerful, sir; Our revels now are ended: These are actors, As I foretold you, were all spirits, and Are melted into air, into thin air; And, like the baseless fabric of this vision The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces, The solemn temples, the great globe itself Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve And, like this insubstantial pageant faded, Leave not a rack behind; We are such stuff As dreams are made of, and our little life Is rounded with a sleep. Sir, I am vex'd; Bear with my weakness; my old brain is troubled Be not disturb'd with my infirmity; If you be pleased, retire into my cell, And there repose; a turn or two I’ll walk To still my beating mind. And tasty waffle find.

Or something like that. This is my nomination for the most memorization-worthy dialogue in The Tempest. I could write an entire essay on it by itself (don't worry; I won't). Suffice it to say that in the process of Prospero telling Ferdinand to chill out and take a nap, Will treats us to beautiful visual imagery, tremendous use of puns and double meanings - as if English is just Will's personal plaything -, expert use of meter, rhythm and all that jazz, and a many-leveled philosophical statement. Not bad for an old British guy on the verge of retirement with limited formal schooling and horrendous dental hygiene.

4. Gonzalo's utopian scheme
Here it is:

Gonzalo:

Had I a plantation of this isle, my lord, – […] And were the king of it, what would I do? I’ the commonwealth, I would by contraries Execute all things: for no kind of traffic Would I admit; no name of magistrate; Letters should not be known; no use of service, Of riches, or of poverty; no contracts, Successions; bound of land, tilth, vineyards, none; No use of metal, corn, or wine, or oil; No occupation; all men idle, all; And women too; but innocent and pure; No sovereignty: -[…] All things in common nature should produce Sword, pike, knife, gun, or need of any engine, Would I not have; but nature should bring forth, Of its own kind, all foison, all abundance, To feed my innocent people.

Sebastian:

No marrying ‘mong his subjects?

Antonio:

None, man; all idle; whores and knaves.

Gonzalo:

I would such perfection govern, sir. To excel the golden age.

Gonzalo seems to exist in this play almost solely to deliver this speech. Since any form of political protest by playwrights was severely punished by The Crown in Shakespeare's day, the message here must have been important and personal for Will. It may not seem like much here, but it is something. He was not one to lightly defy the law, the social order, and/or his patrons. But here he is, engaging in a spot of political critiquing. Sticking it to The Man, like those crazy kids on American Bandstand with their long hair, funky clothes, and crazy dance moves. You think it's art, but there's scathing social criticism just teeming beneath the surface!

Utopianism was quite popular during the Elizabethan age. Thinking folk were into Plato and More, and more utopian thought was on the way. Shakespeare apparently anticipated almost all the key elements of contemporary utopian thought in that one speech. I read that on a professor's website somewhere out in the ether, but I can't find the reference now. I don't think political philosophers and Shakepearean scholars spend much time chatting over iced chai lattes these days about the tremendous intersection of their work. Maybe it is because I always enjoyed utopian philosophy when I studied it in school. Maybe it is because I live in Washington, DC, which feels at many times (right now, for example) like the dark corner of the earth most remotely located away from any sort of honorable utopian ideal. But this might be a side of Will worth further exploration. I will keep my eyes open as I read all his other stuff.

5. Caliban as a creative character
Caliban is a bit of a mystery. He is a cad, trying to rape Miranda. He is somewhat comical, worshiping the liquor that has washed ashore with the king's servants. He is defiant, never wavering in his claim to rightful lordship over the island. He is a creature of the earth (see above). He is lyrical; base without being disgusting. It would be nonsense to suggest he anticipates Rousseau's Noble Savage in light of a variety of his characteristics, but he nevertheless carries a sort of dignity about him that the "civilized" drunken butler and court jester, his co-conspirators, entirely lack. Some critics contend that his unrighteous subjugation and maltreatment is Shakespeare's critique of Britain's colonial policy. Given the date and all the other things happening in the play, I find this to be a stretch. But all evidence seems to indicate that Caliban is a unique creation without many parallels in the arts of the day.

6. The muddle of the meaning
Is it Shakespeare's farewell play?

There is nothing to indicate Will knew this might be his last play, although it was clear that his career was winding down.

Is it Shakespeare's American Colonization Critique?

The date seems a bit early to me (1612ish). Or maybe even a lot early to me. But this play undeniably contains reference to the Brave New World, Gonzalo's utopian speech, and the strength and failings of colonizer and colonized.

Is it a Comedy?

Comedies in Shakespeare's day didn't have to be funny, but they generally concerned common sorts of people, and had a happy ending with a moral (like Aesop's fables, with peasants subbing for the animals). Maybe lords and ladies, but not Dukes and Kings.

Is it a Tragedy?

Well, no. Nothing tragic happens. And is sure isn't a History. It's an Ambiguity. Like Dick Clark's age.

So, no one really seems to agree on much about The Tempest. (Except that nothing goes with this play quite like a crisp golden, waffle with Grade A dark amber Vermont Maple Syrup. Mmmmmmm good.) But I take pleasure in the confusion. I respect artists who master and then break artistic forms and structures. Even if they have to include idiotic log-toting scenes to do it.

7. Prospero's farewell speech
Prospero's farewell speech at the end of the play addresses the audience directly, breaking the fourth wall of the theater. He specifically requests hand clapping to release him from the island. So under the guise of a 'do you believe in fairies' Tinker Bell type lecture, he suckers the audience into applauding the end of the play, an act of chutzpah that you probably wouldn't see pulled off in a modern play. Peter Pan would blush. While I don't really believe the speech is Shakespeare's farewell to the stage, I do think it is clever enough to get on my top eight list.

8. 'An Excellent Dumb Discourse'
The Tempest contains the source for the name of this blog. As the king and company are ooh-ing at one of Ariel's mystical light shows, Alonso exclaims (or declaims, or whatever it is they do in highbrow theater), "I cannot too much muse, Such shapes, such gesture, and such sound, expressing,— Although they want the use of tongue,—a kind Of excellent dumb discourse." Since this is my blog, a bit of self-referential promotion seems appropriate.

There you have it friends. My eight nice things to say about The Tempest, with ten coherent and relevant references to Dick Clark and American Bandstand (well, references, anyway) thrown in to the mix to appease those rabid ten fans out there.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go start Henry VI, Part I over a stack of fresh, wonderful waffles. Farewell, Tempest. Hello, Hank.




This essay has been brought to you by The National Federation of Waffles and Waffle-Allied Products, and Dick Clark Productions.