community

Usually, whenever someone tells you to look for literary devices or to analyze a work for its literary content, you think, “Oh, we’re going to read a poem/book/short story/sonnet/really old letter.” You hardly think, however, that you would possibly analyze a popular TV show. Coincidentally, that’s just what we did. In the episode of the popular TV show “Community”, “Modern Warfare”, the producers provided refreshing literary allusions to many popular novels and movies. Among the many sources were Lord of the Flies, Terminator, Call of Duty: Modern Warfare, F.R.I.E.N.D.S., Scarface, and many others. One of the many surprising references was to the movie “Warriors” whenever the roller bladers were circling around, chanting “Come out to play!” Another was the scene where Jeff is walking across the barren, empty campus–a scene that if we didn’t know better, could easily have been in “The Walking Dead”. Close to my heart and very well appreciated, was the reference to Saving Private Ryan in which Shirley recites a bible verse while shooting the paintball gun–much like the sniper. Among the obvious plays on popular quotes, there were more subtle yet hilarious references to many popular scenarios. For example, it’s a very common understanding that in most horror movies, the order of victims usually includes the “black guy getting killed first”. This happened whenever Donald Glover’s character, Troy, was shot first by the Glee Club. Another cheesy movie scene rendition was the part of the episode where Jeff and Britta are seen alone in a study room. Britta is bandaging Jeff’s wound (which is ironically real, and not from a paintball) and the comic “longing gaze and romantic touch” scene begins to unfold. Quite soon after making fun of that exact scenario, Jeff and Britta complete the scene and release their “sexual tension”. Ultimately, the show contains many allusions and literary devices that, when looked at on a closer level, probably exceed those that I just mentioned. Credit must be given to the producers though. They pulled off a TV show that transcends comic genius. “Community” is a show that offers a refreshing twist to modern TV and succeeds in not only being hilarious, but extremely clever, imaginative, and witty. 

life

Anna Laetitia Barbauld says goodbye to her dear friend life. While the poem is obviously one long metaphor for her passing, Barbauld uses many literary figures to depict not just life itself, but a deep regard and admiration for the wonderful life she’s lived. She address life as though speaking to it directly saying, “Life! I know not what thou art, / But know that thou and I must part”. She does it yet again in the last stanza when she says, “Life! we’ve been long together, / Through pleasant and through cloudy weather”. Barbauld seems to be saying goodbye to life as thought it is someone she’s known throughout her existence. By doing so, she creates this intimacy and illustrates to the reader a love for a life that she’s had. It’s hard for her to say goodbye to something that’s been so great because “‘Tis hard to part when friends are dear”.

She also creates metaphors using “goodnight” and “goodmorning” representing death and life, respectively. By telling life to not just say goodnight, I’m reminded of the phrase, “It’s not goodbye, it’s see you later.” It’s almost as if by telling life to say goodmorning, rather than goodnight, she’s implying that death is but a milestone and that what awaits after death–the afterlife, or heaven–does not require sadness and mourning, but rather, a celebration of the hope of what’s to come. 

ode on a grecian urn

Ah, happy, happy boughs! that cannot shed 
Your leaves, nor ever bid the Spring adieu;  
And, happy melodist, unwearied, 
For ever piping songs for ever new;  
More happy love! more happy, happy love!  
For ever warm and still to be enjoy’d,  
For ever panting, and for ever young;  
All breathing human passion far above,  
That leaves a heart high-sorrowful and cloy’d,  
A burning forehead, and a parching tongue.

Keates begins the poem describing the world on the urn. He says that the branches of the trees never lose their leaves, thus never saying goodbye to Spring. He’s describing a world that doesn’t exist, yet is cemented onto the urn. He treats this world as a real place, perhaps attempting to escape from the reality that he actually lives in. He fantasizes about this place where time stands still, and everything can just remain as it is without having to change. Also, his repetition of the word ‘happy’ that is continued throughout the poem leads the reader to believe that Keates is actually trying to convince himself that eternal springtime and consistency actually gives him this said happiness. He says that the songs that the melodist plays will be forever new, and that the love felt between the boy and girl illustrated on the urn will be eternal; their love will always be in the young, passionate, “honeymoon” phase. This love that he sees will never falter like love in real life, and Keates seems somewhat envious of this. He continues to say that this kind of love leaves a heart feeling sad, like it has too much of a good thing. The “burning forehead” and “parching tongue” allow the reader to assume that this also leaves him feeling feverish and thirsty, but not for water, or anything material. Keates desires love. More so than that, Keates idealizes eternity in this stanza. He envies the world depicted on the urn because it never has to change, unlike his. 

motion picture vs. printed fiction

When it boils down to whether or not Branagh’s adaptation of Mary Shelley’s novel Frankenstein portrayed and preserved the author’s intent, vision, voice, and overall plot, there really is no question: the answer is no. Branagh did an incredible job producing a movie that in many instances is more faithful and true to the original work and story line than others. To his credit, he preserves the Creature’s ability to speak and read and the setting in which the story is told. He even adds an unexpected, daring, and creative twist whenever Victor brings Elizabeth back to life. However, he so distorts the story and its most important details that you could say it’s an adaptation of a completely unrelated plot. While it may have been interesting and pleasing to watch, I feel as though his adaptation of the novel creates a huge disconnect for readers wanting to experience Mary Shelley’s artistic works in the visual form, and in turn, actually does the author a disservice for attempting to make that experience a reality. Branagh portrayed Victor to be warm, loving, and emotionally invested in his family, while the novel painted a picture of a cold, detached, work obsessed scientist driven by a desire to play God–not a husband. He is more emotionally committed to Elizabeth in the movie than in the novel, and I feel as though Branagh wanted to create sympathy for Victor and depict, not his neglected creation, but its creator as the victim. Lastly, in the movie, Victor’s creations are depicted as an attempt to cheat and overcome death. In the book, Frankenstein’s purpose to creating life is illustrated to be fueled by his overwhelming hunger for fame and adoration.

Mary Shelley’s original purpose and intent at writing Frankenstein was obscure in the movie, and while Branagh set out to reproduce a literary masterpiece, he simply did not do so. His only achievement was creating an inventive and entertaining film. 

could he have saved her?

It’s obvious to the reader that Victor is the cause for Justine’s death; it was his creation–a “result of [his] curiosity and lawless devices”–that murdered William (54). But, knowing this, could he have cleared her of the accusations brought against her? Could he have convinced a court room that she was not responsible of the murder?

No.

The evidence surrounding Justine was circumstantial, but powerful. Despite the credibility of her reputable character, all signs pointed to her guilt. Justine had been out the entire night the murder was committed, and was found the next morning not far from where the body of the child was found afterwards. Her extreme confusion and unintelligible answers added to suspicions that she was William’s murderer. Along with that, Elizabeth had placed a photo around William’s neck before he went missing. This photo was later found in Justine’s pocket by her servant to which Justine could offer no explanation. No one believed that she wasn’t responsible, and even her character accounts weren’t enough to shift the suspicions that she could be capable of committing such a heinous act. So, Justine confessed to a murder that she didn’t commit to submit “in patience to the will of Heaven” (59).

So, why couldn’t Victor have saved her if he knew that the murder was committed by none other than his own creation?

Because it would have sounded c-r-a-z-y.

Imagine a court room setting where someone defended the accused by retelling outlandish accounts of the real perpetrator being a living creature constructed out of the dead? You would send them off to a loony bin and move on with your trial, because you think that such a thing couldn’t possibly be done. This was also Victor’s thinking. He describes these feelings of guilt, and indescribable remorse knowing that someone was to die at the hands of his experimentation, but says that he “was absent when it was committed, and such  a declaration would have been considered as the ravings of a mad man, and would not have exculpated her who suffered through [him]” (54). It conflicts him, and he feels remorse about it but he “might proclaim [him]self a madman, but not revoke the sentence passed upon [his] wretched victim” (60). You can tell by the way he cries out that Victor doesn’t want sit back and let Justine perish in his place, but he knows that the court would never believe that his creature killed his brother. He says, “But I, the true murderer, felt the never-dying worm alive in my bosom, which allowed of no hope or consolation” (59) which shows that his guilt is like a worm; it burrows deep into him, feeds off of his guilt, and allows no hope or consolation for the wrongful sentencing that he was a bystander for. He says that “[a]nguish and despair had penetrated into the core of my heart; [He] bore a hell within [him] which nothing could extinguish” (60). All of his exclamations sound dark, heavy, and dramatic allowing the reader to believe that he truly does feel remorse. His lamentations and outcries further add to the assumption that he is at an inner conflict with allowing this to happen. How could he not? The life of an innocent person was about to be taken at his hands, and he could offer no argument to stop it. He is “torn by remorse, horror, and despair as [he beholds] those [he] loved spend vain sorrow upon the graves of William and Justine” (60).

Thus, William and Justine took their place in Heaven as Frankenstein’s “first hapless victims”, but they were most certainly not the last (60).

old school meets high school.

LAERTES AND HAMLET: ARTIST VS. JOCK

Think of your typical artist and jock stereotype. You know, the one that all of the Hollywood producers glamorize in the movies. The artist is cynical, melancholy, reflective, full of intellect, and thoughtful. He appears calm on the outside, yet he is internally consumed by an anger and disgust. He is possessed by emotion that leaves him brooding over the calamities occurring in his life, crippled in action, but mobilized in thought. Now, think of the jock. Whenever the time comes for him to act, he does so without reservation. He’s the kind of guy to get fired up over a bad call during a football game, or heated over his beautiful cheerleader girlfriend flirting with another boy. He’s impulsive and immediate. He’s passionate, and it’s that same passion that fuels him to do the things that he does. The artist and the jock do not differ as much as the either will ever realize, but the biggest thing that keeps them apart, is how they let their emotions affect their actions. The artist will brood, obsessively thinking, calculating, and analyzing the current state of his situation. However, the jock, will execute. The two boys are friendly. Maybe they used to be friends back in elementary school, but high school, filled with all of its new pressures, social status, cliques, and extracurricular activities drove them apart.  So yeah, they’ll always be nice to each other; they’ll be cordial in public, but only out of respect for the friendship that once was, yet never will be again. In comparison, Hamlet and Laertes mirror this: Hamlet, the artist, and Laertes, the jock. The two share a common tragedy: a murdered father, and perhaps a friendship that once was. But in other regards, Hamlet is everything that Laertes is not, and vice-versa. Proceeding the death of his father, Hamlet obsessed over the idea of avenging his death by killing the murderous Claudius, yet he never did so. Weeks after his funeral, Hamlet is despondent, consumed with grief over the loss of a father, and disgusted at the sudden elopement of his mother. The now King Claudius says to him in Act 1, Scene 2, “How is it that the clouds still hang on you?” (68)… ‘Tis sweet and commendable in your nature, Hamlet, To give these mourning duties to your father. But you must know your father lost a father, That father lost, lost his, and the survivor bound In filial obligation for some term to do obsequious sorrow. But to persever [sic] In obstinate condolement is a course Of impious stubbornness. ‘Tis unmanly grief” (90-98).  Even his mother, Queen Gertrude, tells Hamlet to remember that “all lives must die, Passing through nature to eternity” (74-75). But, Hamlet, being the “artist” that he is, says to her that none of the clothes he wears, not any of the heavy sighs he makes, no tears that he sheds, nor any other display of grief can show what he really feels inside. He says, “These indeed “seem”, For they are actions that a man might play; But I have that within which passes show, These but the trappings and the suits of woe” (86-86). As if Hamlets continuous (yet, understandable) mourning and standoffish, rebellious teenager-like attitude towards his mother aren’t enough of an argument for his dwelling nature, his many soliloquies should be. He continuously speaks of revenge against Claudius, yet never takes any action. Its as though the same manner in which he behaved with his mother is being applied -to Claudius as well. Hamlet said before speaking with her, “Let me be cruel, not unnatural. I will speak daggers to her, but use none” (428-429).

In Act 3, Scene 3, Hamlet has the perfect opportunity to kill Claudius. In fact, it’s the best opportunity in the entire play. While Claudius is “praying”, Hamlet enters into the chapel where he is at conflict with finally murdering the man who murdered his father. Yet, he doesn’t.

“Now I might do it <pat> , now he is a-praying,

And now I’ll do’t.

And so he goes to heaven,

And so am I <revenged.> That would be scanned:

A villain kills my father, and for that,

I, his sole son, do this same villain send

To heaven.

Why, this is <hire> and <salary>, not revenge” (76-84).

He then sheathes his sword, and says “No. Up sword, and know thou a more horrid hent” (92-93).

In contrast to that, upon the news of his late father, Laertes immediately returns home from France and assembles a rebellion against the King to avenge his murdered father. Fueled by passion and loyalty to his father, Laertes storms the castle in a rage, and says to King Claudius, “That drop of blood that’s calm proclaims me bastard, Cried “cuckold” to my father, brands the harlot Even here between the chaste unsmirched brow Of my true mother” (130-134). He then, enraged, demands to know from Claudius how his father’s death came about and swears his vengeance: “To this point I stand, That both the worlds I give to negligence, Let come what comes, only I’ll be revenged Most throughly for my father” (151-154). Later, on in Act 4, Scene 7, Claudius and Laertes plan Hamlet’s death. Claudius inquires Laertes as to how much he loved his father, and to truly get vengeance for his father, what he would do to Hamlet to “show [him]self indeed [his] father’s son More than in words” (142-143). Laertes says to Claudius that he would “cut his throat i’ th’ church” (144) showing that his rage and passion for his father’s murder leads him to actions with no limits or bounds. They plan a duel in which Laertes and Hamlet are to fight, and Laertes poisons his sword so that if he “gall[s] him slightly, It may be death” (167-168).

It’s odd what grief will do to you. In some instances, you will be like Hamlet, and in others, you will be like Laertes. What Shakespeare brings into question is whether either of the two methods are better. Hamlet, while proving his love and loyalty for his father, may have eventually caused Claudius’s death but only after the death of 5 other characters. Laertes, as well, may have avenged his killer, but did not even blame Hamlet for the his father’s murder. “Exchange forgiveness with me, noble Hamlet. Mine and my father’s death come not upon thee, Nor thine on me” (362-363). In the end, the two men seeking to avenge death achieve death itself. Perhaps it is better to brood with intent, or to act with thought. Either way, it is clear that Hamlet and Laertes, the artist and the jock, should not be the ones to take after.

H A M L E T

What is loss without any grief?

It certainly can’t truly be a loss, can it? I mean, when have you ever been happy that you lost something? If you cared about it, the answer is never. If your answer is once, or twice, or any number of times, then you probably didn’t care much for it at all, and in actuality, your “loss” might turn out to have been more of a win, a relief, a burden off of your chest. Now take the idea of loss, and apply it to someone’s life. Better yet, apply it someone you truly care for, deep in your heart of hearts. I bet you get that deep in your stomach, gut-wrenching feeling. As though the world would simply shatter at the ceasing of their tangible existence. True love, when lost, leads to true grief. And, that grief, lasts more than just a few weeks.

Well, you think that would be the case. It seems as though anyone who has ever had anyone to love would agree with me. Love, regardless of what form it takes, transcends past someone’s existence. In other words, once the person that you love is no longer in your life, it doesn’t mean you just stop loving them. You would certainly think that a wife and mother would feel the sudden loss of her husband so deeply that it shook her to her very core, with such grief and agony that any bystander would be able to discern her affections for her husband, loyalty to her marriage, and regard for the son who just lost his father. Maybe it’s too rash to generalize that all women would do this. If I marry, God willing, I certainly do hope that I would feel this way if my husband were to be taken from me abruptly. Perhaps I’ll just play it safe and say that, the typical woman who is in a healthy, loving marriage would be deeply saddened by the loss of her life partner, and in turn, hope to console her children who also lost an important figure in their life: a father. You certainly wouldn’t expect your mother to waltz down the aisle with another man. (Well, maybe in a few years, but certainly not a few weeks.)  Also, as if that wasn’t blasphemous enough, suppose said man was your uncle-your own father’s brother. Well, that’s just the icing on one rather incestuous cake, and Queen Gertrude certainly does bake a pretty mean one. For those who aren’t familiar with the story line of Hamlet, the play follows a son whose father has just been murdered by the man his mother has remarried, and this man happens to be Hamlet’s uncle (hence the incestuous cake). It seems as though she feels no grief over her loss at all. The audience can sense it, and so can Hamlet. In Act 1, Scene 2, Gertrude is speaking to Hamlet about his father shortly after King Claudius (Hamlet’s new step-father) and Queen Gertrude address the court concerning their marriage. She says to him:

“How is it that the clouds still hang on you?…

Good Hamlet, cast thy nighted color off,

And let thine eye look like a friend on Denmark.

Do not forever with thy vailed lids

Seek for thy noble father in the dust.

Thou know’st ’tis common. All that lives must die.

Passing through nature to eternity.”

And, Hamlet, trying to seem practical, coldly agrees. Naturally, all that lives must die. However, he also says something else. In response to his mother’s questioning it seeming so particular with him, Hamlet stiffly responds:

“‘Seems,’ madam? Nay, it is. I know not ‘seems’.

‘Tis not alone my inky cloak, good mother,

Nor customary suits of solemn black,

Nor windy suspiration of forced breath,

No, nor the fruitful river in the eye,

Nor the dejected ‘havior of the visage,

Together with all forms, moods, shapes of grief,

That can denote me truly. These indeed ‘seem’.

For they are actions that a man might play.

But I have that within which which passeth show,

These but the trappings and the suits of woe.”

Basically: Unlike his mother, he isn’t acting sad. And although, someone could dress in black clothing, and put on the face of grief, he feels more than she, or anyone, could ever see, and his clothes are but a small hint of it. From there, Hamlet begins his soliloquy in where he states that his mother is no better than an animal for marrying his father’s brother less than a month after his sudden passing. It doesn’t take a literary rocket scientist to see that Hamlet is appalled that his mother could even think to do such a thing, especially in the time frame from which it was done. He’s bitter. Angry. He feels betrayed. He also feels that if his mother had the ability to marry someone who was nothing like his father without feeling any remorse, how did she feel about him? Additionally, what does that say about how she feels about him? Hamlet is a man who loved and respected his father. In my mind, I picture Hamlet’s adoration for his father to resemble that of a son who admires his father to the point of mimicry. The kind of admiration that leads a son to proclaim, “I want to grow up and be just like you, Dad!” And, his heartbreak is evident as he cries out in his soliloquy.

“My father’s brother, but no more like my father

Than I to Hercules. Within a month,

Ere the sail of most unrighteous tears

Had left the flushing in her gallad eyes,

She married. O most wicked speed, to post

With such dexterity to incestuous sheets!

It is not nor it cannot come to good.

But break, my heart, for I must hold my tongue.”

The tears on her cheeks weren’t even dry, and she remarried.

I’ve always heard people say that what someone says when no one is looking is huge factor in the determination of their character. Moreover, how someone acts when no one is around speaks more volume than their words. If Hamlet’s mother truly cared for, not only her husband, but for her child’s father, her grief would extend beyond the visibility of a crowd. It wouldn’t be for show, an act put on to convince people and prevent a reputation. If it were true love, and a true loss, there would be true grief. A sadness that couldn’t be described with words. I can’t imagine what it must feel like to lose your father, and then feel as though you lost your mother as well. Hamlet’s mother didn’t really love her husband. She’s just a good baker.