Vader has lost the helmet and is now old and fat and speaks in a tenor voice. He’s obviously the smartest guy in the room.
I am not the first to mess with Shakespeare. In 1680, a hack named Nahum Tate rewrote King Lear to give it a happy ending (Cordelia marries Edgar and they assume the throne), and in 1699, Colley Cibber “adapted” Richard III. In the 19th and 20th centuries, Shakespeare’s plays were operacized, balletized, and Broadwayized (The Boys from Syracuse, West Side Story) In 1868, French operatic composer Ambroise Thomas wrote a Hamlet in which Ophelia sings a long aria and dies. After wild applause, she gets up and sings some more. I’ve seen this opera. I’ve also seen the Reduced Shakespeare Company in person and on DVD—they do the complete works in an hour and a half—and there’s also The Troubadour Theater Company that does Fleetwood Macbeth, which I’ve seen. They wear kilts and Hobbit feet, Duncan does standup comedy before they kill him, and Lady Macbeth sings Stevie Nicks songs. I have also seen Pulp Shakespeare (“If Shakespeare Wrote Pulp Fiction”), which is based on one of Quentin Tarantino’s hyper-violent—and in this case, hyper-conversational—movies, which I quit watching after about 20 minutes. The rest of the audience got it, though. They laughed a lot. It’s good to have fun with Shakespeare. Continue reading “No One Is Safe from the Parodist (Part 3) by Barbara Ardinger”
I was in college in the sixties before The Sixties really set in. We talked a lot about existentialism in those innocent days, especially in my theater classes. Those were the days when the theater of the absurd was the big thing. We theater majors walked around asking each other, “How do I be in the world? What is the meaning of my existence?”
Feminism and Religion 