Kennon - Identity Post #3

Most people have experienced an identity crisis in some form or another. Usually they strike after a particularly bad breakup, upon changing college majors, or after discovering that you do, in fact, enjoy Kanye West’s music. 

Though I cannot say I personally have experienced identity crises’ as a result of any of the above (I totally have), my identity shifts a bit day-to-day, sometimes even minute-to-minute. Though a desire for stability and sanity necessitates that we have a few fixed staples of our identity that for the most part do not change, society and other forces beyond our control often determine aspects of our identities for us, with or without our consent. This is not a new development – factors beyond my control established my identity as a middle class white millennial in the same way that 18^th century Russian serfs were born into serfdom with very little say in the matter. Likewise, the characters in The Merchant of Venice frequently have their identities determined by factors beyond their control like financial status, gender, and race; and often they are able to assume another identity via performance. 

Bassanio asks his friend Antonio for money to court Portia because his identity as a potential suitor is determined by the amount of money he appears to have. To contend with Portia's other suitors and earn the right to choose a casket, Bassanio must at least outwardly appear to be wealthy by going to Belmont with gifts and expensive clothing. Though someone more idealistic may attempt to argue that our identity is too internal and pure to be affected by these outward material signs, our society and Bassanio's alike take cues about our identity based solely on our "stuff". In order to assume the identity of someone worthy of marrying the wealthy Portia, Bassanio must at least appear as wealthy as his competitors. Fortunately for him he already has the identity of a nobleman by name and family connections, but he relies on his friend Antonio (who assumes the identity of the titular merchant) to gain the material indicators of wealth to back it up. When Bassanio receives word of Antonio's ships crashing and his consequential imprisonment, he is forced to admit to Portia his true identity of a nobleman who has lost his wealth: "I freely told you all the wealth I had/Ran in my veins - I was a gentleman/And then I told you true....much I was a braggart/When I told you/My state was nothing, I should have then told you/That I was worse than nothing" (III 2, ll. 257-260). Though Bassanio's noble birth is a constant influence on his identity, he is able to feign the identity of someone wealthier until this scene. Not only is identity in Merchant highly performative, but it is very much dependent on the characters' monetary value. 

Portia’s identity is determined not only by her worth as a potential wife, but by her gender. Her position as a woman, a predetermined aspect of her identity, prevents her from coming to Antonio's aid in court because the period in which she lives does not allow female lawyers. This necessitates her masquerading as a man in the courtroom scene, which says a great deal about the performative nature of gender and identity as a whole. She first assumes the identity of an "unlesson'd girl" (III 2, ll. 159) so that Bassanio believes she will be an obedient wife worthy of marriage, but later performs a different identity entirely in order to save Antonio. Portia's speech to Nerissa prior to their departure for Venice gets to the essence of the performative nature of gender identity: "When we are both accoutered like young men/I'll prove the prettier fellow of the two..." (III 4, ll. 62-63). Portia is able to alter her identity completely through performance, proving that gender can be even more performative than wealth and other attributes that are performed in the play. 

Of course, most obviously, Shylock’s identity is predetermined by his being a Jew. Though the society he lives in makes this trait even more limiting than Portia being a woman, he cannot as easily perform his way out it. In order to avoid death or further persecution following the trial scene he is forced to convert to Christianity, indicating that though racial identity cannot be changed, religious identity is more fluid and, you guessed it: performative. 

I could probably write a lengthy thesis on the topic of identity in The Merchant of Venice,  but as it has already been done many a time, I will end this post here. Because while with a good deal of time and research I could perform the identity of a Shakespeare scholar, I will assume the identity that comes a bit more naturally - that of a tired but student attempting to publish a blog post before the 5pm deadline. 

Fate Post #3--The Merchant of Venice

Fate plays an immense role in The Merchant of Venice, manifesting itself more clearly than in perhaps any play we have read thus far.  It appears primarily in the suitors’ courtship of Portia, as they must choose the chest in which her picture resides.  This method, chosen by her father before his death, robs her of all choice in marriage—“Besides the lott’ry of my destiny/Bars me the right of voluntary choosing” (II.2, 15-16).  Portia’s inability to perform “voluntary choosing” alludes to the relationship between fate and gender I discussed to in my last blog post on Taming of the Shrew.  Women in Renaissance society society, despite Shakespeare equipping them with both ability and intelligence, are robbed of choice by their male counterparts.

Fate in Merchant, however, extends beyond the boundaries of patriarchy.  Just as religion plays a significant role in the relationship of Shylock the Jew and the other Christian merchants, it influences Portia’s fate as well.  With her father being described as a “holy man” with “good inspiration” by Nerissa, the hint of a supernatural presence emerges.  Antonio’s victory in his trial further evidences this, and one can view his triumph over Shylock as a victory of Christianity over Judaism.  The New Testament teachings, which “doth teach us all to render the deeds of mercy,” supersede those of the Old Testament that preaches the “justice” Shylock seeks.  Christian religion, therefore, serves as the determinant for disputes in the play, whether they are of legal or marital nature.  When Portia tells Bassanio, “There’s something tells me, but it is not love/I would not lose you…” (III.2, 4-5) it is not unreasonable to suppose, then, that this “something” is a predetermined supernatural act pairing the characters for marriage with one another. 

With all this said, does any true “supposition” actually exist in the play?  I mean “supposition” in terms of Shylock stating, “Yet [Antonio’s] means are in supposition,” or in question.  This is an important issue that would challenge the uncertainty surrounding the mercantilist practices of the time.  It is also interesting in terms of genre, as in the comedies we have read thus far the protagonist, whether this individual is “good” or “bad,” always achieves whatever he desires.  The Antipholuses achieved both sanity and familial union, Petruchio “tamed” Kate the shrew, and Antonio keeps his life and recovers his fortune: “Sweet lady, you have given me life and living,/ For here I read for certain that my ships/Are safely come to road” (V.1, 286-88).  Bassanio was always destined to win Portia in the “lott’ry” proposed by her father, and in doing so “bring [Antonio’s] latter hazard back again/And thankfully rest debtor for the first” (I.2, 151-52).  Bassanio’s acquisition of Portia’s wealth repays both “the first” and the “latter” debts, and of Portia herself allows for him—through Portia—to win Antonio’s life.  In living, Antonio soon discovers the means of his supposition, his merchant vessels, return to him unharmed.  The characters, except the unfortunate Shylock and perhaps to a lesser extent his daughter Jessica, all ultimately become “sufficient” through fate.  

Post 3 - Memory

On the surface, The Merchant of Venice is a play about credit, economics, and finances. Maybe, ostensibly, we can also say it's a love story--but only in that cautious way that we call romantic comedies "love stories." This is a story of transactions. Currency starts changing hands as early as the first scene when Bassanio pleads with Antonio to lend him more money. These exchanges become increasingly personal, however, when Shylock enters the story--welcoming an onslaught of centuries-old anti-Semitism into the mix. On top of this there are professions of love, legal proceedings, flesh bounties, false identities, and marital unrest. Memory is the pervasive catalyst for many of these

conflicts, especially the running theme of hatred and revenge as it relates to selfhood and discrimination (here, in the form of anti-Semitism).

The stage directions identify Shylock as a Jew before he even gets the chance to do so himself. Of course, for historical relevance's sake, we cannot criticize the blatant discrimination against Shylock's status as a Jew in the same way we would criticize such indecency nowadays. However, the transparency of the anti-Semitism in this play directly exposes the role of internalized memory. In Act I Scene III, Shylock's first scene, he claims, "How like a fawning publican he [Antonio] looks. / I hate him for he is a Christian" (38-39). This declaration of hatred purposely precedes any business transaction. Shakespeare orders the events in this way to show that Shylock's memory of wrongdoing at the hands of Christians directly affects the way he handles business with Antonio. This wrongdoing affects Shylock on a much more personal level as well. Antonio's conditioned anti-Semitism affects Shylock's selfhood and notions of his worth in the community. For this reason, petty business transactions give way to murderous revenge plots. 

Signor Antonio, many a time and oft
In the Rialto you have rated me
About my moneys and my usances. 
Still have I borne it with a patient shrug,
For suff'rance is the badge of all our tribe. 
You call me misbeliever, cutthroat dog,
And spit upon my Jewish gaberdine,
And all for use of that which is mine own.
Well then, it now appears you need my help. (103-111)

It becomes clear in the second half of the play that Shylock never truly wanted his loan repaid. Rather, he has been waiting for Antonio's plan to fall through. He has been waiting for his revenge. Shylock reveals in many passages that he keenly remembers Antonio's (and the greater community's) discriminatory behavior toward him and his people. Antonio, not possibly capable of centuries worth of systemized prejudice and, therefore, not deserving of all the blame, serves as more of a microcosm for a greater problem. Shylock has internalized the struggles of his people and, now that he has the upper hand, uses these memories to fuel his desire for revenge. In dialogue with Salarino, who asks what Shylock could possibly want with Antonio's flesh, Shylock claims: 

He hath disgraced me and hindered me half a million, laughed at my 

losses, mocked at my gains, scorned my nation, thwarted my bargains, cooled

my friends, heated mine enemies--and what's his reason? I am a Jew.

Hath not a Jew eyes? Hath not a Jew hands, organs, dimensions, senses,

affections, passions?--fed with the same diseases, healed by the same means, 

warmed and cooled by the same winter and summer as a Christian is?

The vast majority of these laments are profoundly personal. The fact that Shylock chooses to cite such personal misdeeds proves that these internalized memories directly influence his sense of self. This is further demonstrated by Shylock's vehement resistance when the court implores him to drop his bond. While The Merchant of Venice claims to expose the danger losing one's credit in business transactions, it truly exposes the danger of internalized memory and how remembrance is pervasive enough to inspire murder. 

Twist of Fate

Fate is a subjective occurrence that may evolve as the eras and their matching ideologies change. However there is always the connection of the idea of fates matching with the dominant group’s interest. Presently there is a more accepted idea of being able to adjust a fate, if one’s circumstances can allow it. However, fate is often used as a factor to justify both mistreatment and and domination. One’s fate does not usually allow them space to be able to change under the conditions set before them.

First off, let’s examine the dynamics of the relationship between Katherine and Petruchio. In the beginning of the play, the first lines that she speaks in the play show a defiance to the men presented to her.

“I' faith, sir, you shall never need to fear.

I wis it is not halfway to her heart.

But if it were, doubt not her care should be

To comb your noddle with a three-legged stool

And paint your face and use you like a fool.”

Here she mocks the idea of being with either of the suitors, showing that she would subject them to humiliation if they were to try anything with her. Her fate here was to be selective of the men who approach her, and put those who wrongly do so in place. However, fate had a different option for her.

In Taming of the Shrew, Katherine’s and Bianca’s ultimate fate was to be married off to wealthy men who could secure financial stability. However Katherine did not feel the drive to be with any of the men who were presented to her, and held a defiant stance against many men who tried to approach her. She felt her fate would have more of her personal involvement in it. However ultimately her fate was left in the hand of her suitor, who changed it to his more superficial interests. This brings in the question of how fate is determined - the important of the reigning interests. Although there was more depth and reason behind what Katherine saw important to her, it was not the end that was given to her. Instead she was forced to conform to the fate that was imposed onto her. 

However, there is also an allure to be able to change one’s fate to be more accommodating to their interests. However in many cases, what someone sees as their future does not play into their fate. The suitors in The Taming of the Shrew reflect this idea through the changing of identities in order to gain a closer contact with their desired lover. Lucentio, Gremio and Hortensio all feel that Bianca should be with them, however only one can actually accomplish this goal. This pushes the fate of one the suitors to the bench while the other is free to pursue his wish. In this case, it displays how one is oftentimes in pursuit of a fate that they believe to be right for them, but they do not necessarily receive this fate. 

Shakespeare and Film Noir; Sexuality, Post #2

Let's talk about sex. Let's talk about Luciana and Antipholus of Syracuse. Let's talk about Katherina and Petruchio. Both of these comedies use the multifarious sexualities of the characters for an assortment of reasons and plot devises—most overtly, for the amusement of the audience. There are moments in both of these plays where a lot of legwork is asked of the audience in order to keep certain lascivious views in flux.

On of these moments comes in The Comedy of Errors (Act III, Scene 2), when Antipholus of Syracuse shamelessly hits on Luciana, the sister of his alleged wife. The scene is charged with a lot of romantic language and coy refutations; however sweet these verses may be, Luciana still believes that she is speaking to the husband of her sister. Though it is true that from Antipholus of Syracuse's point of view he is only flirting with a single mistress, the breath of adultery and sordid desire still obfuscate the scene. The audience is simultaneously being affronted with AoS's sexuality as well as Luciana's contemptible response to AoS's advances.

Luc: It is a fault that springeth from your eye.
AoS: For gazing on your beams, fair sun, being by.

Well, at least she said no that time. 

Luc: Gaze where you should, and that will clear your sight.
AoS: As good to wink, sweet love, as look on night.
Luc: Why call you me “love”? Call my sister so.
AoS: Thy sister's sister. 
Luc: That's my sister. 
AoS: No, it is thyself, mine own self’s better part,
Mine eye’s clear eye, my dear heart’s dearer heart,
My food, my fortune, and my sweet hope’s aim,
My sole earth’s heaven, and my heaven’s claim...
Luc: O soft, sir! Hold you still.
I’ll fetch my sister to get her goodwill. 
(III. 2. 55-64, 69-70.) 

Alas, Luciana does spurn AoS's advances. That's good, right? She couldn't possibly hope to score her brother-in-law right after giving a speech about how wives should be obedient; one can only assume not facilitating cheating is something that is expected from a potential good-wife. However, this scene also reveals to the audience that AoS is attracted to Luciana, and would court her if not for the ubiquitous, eponymous errors running amok. Shakespeare keeps playing with the sexualities of his contemporary audience: at this point in the play, the spectators would have wanted—gasp!—Luciana to return his advances. They know that she is right in following what her sexuality is telling her (namely, that she is attracted to this flirtatious Antipholus), and yet it is expected that she turn him down. Luckily, all of these libidinous desires get properly aligned as the play enters its denouement.

The Taming of the Shrew also puts its audience on a roller coaster of sexuality—this time through witty word play. One of the more famously salacious scenes in Shrew is, like the aforementioned scene in The Comedy of Errors, a courting scene. When Petruchio begins to court Katherina, she acts as expected: shrewish. Spurring even the most basic of his advances, Petruchio calls her waspish, to which Katherina famously replies:

"If I be waspish, best beware my sting." (II. i. 208.) 

Oh-ho-ho! Petruchio follows up on this suggestive warning, spurning the following dialogue:

 

P: My remedy is then to pluck it out.
K: Ay, if the fool could find where it lies.
P: Who knows not where a wasp does wear his sting? In his tail.
K: In his tongue.
P: Whose tongue?
K: Yours, if you talk of tales, and so farewell.
P: What, with my tongue in your tail? (II. i. 209-214.) 

The "tail" being referred to is believed to be an overt reference to Katherina's genitalia. Petruchio appeals to Katherina's sexuality directly in an attempt to deflect and undermine her shrewish defenses. 

To juxtapose these sexually charged dialogues with one from our quasi-contemporary culture, below is one of the most famous "patter-dialogues" of the film noir genre, coming from Billy Wilder's Double Indemnity:

Here is a dialogue where sexuality and its repression are being volleyed verbally. This dialogue from the 1944 "pragmatic film noir" is incredibly similar in form to Luciana and Antipholus of Syracuse's banter, though centuries separate the two. Katherina and Petruchio's dialogue is surprisingly more salacious than the other two combined; Luciana and AoS's dialogue, as well as the dialogue from Double Indemnity, both deal with sexually charged suggestion but any reference to sexuality is clouded with the threat of adultery. 

 Most interestingly, it is how those two dialogues get un-clouded that reveal the most about how sexuality was treated in these two eras: in The Comedy of Errors, Luciana and Antipholus end up together happily. Despite Luciana's initial rejection of her sexuality, it ends up that after all, it was pointing it in the right direction. Conversely, in Double Indemnity, Walter Neff listens to his sexuality and begins an affair with Phyllis soon after this scene. However, this leads him down a road of broken promises, murder, and death.

  Now, in which era was sexuality more repressed?

Ambition, Then and Now

    It’s hard for me to separate modern notions of ambition from what people would have described as ambition in the 17th century. The way I perceive this trait is from the context of a western capitalist society. But even that is hard to define. A person is not deemed ambitious by their status in society. For example, a person might build a company from the ground up and become incredibly successful, and we would call this person ambitious. But when he dies, he passes the business on to his son (who may or may not be qualified to run a company), and we would likely attribute the son’s success not to ambition, but instead to nepotism. In another instance, a young woman from a low-income household might get an entry level job in the mail-room of some company, and by hard work she eventually gets promoted to department manager. Ambition is not distinctly defined in our society, but tends to be correlated with upward mobility. But it varies in degree and kind, and the desired reward is not always financial.
    According to Oxford folk ambition is “the ardent (in early usage, inordinate) desire to rise to high position, or to attain rank, influence, distinction or other preferment.” And to me this is interesting, since the trait is defined by the desire for rank or prestige, etc. Whereas I would prefer to define the word by those who attempt to raise their status, whether they fail or succeed. Still, etymologically, the earliest uses (starting in 1340) group ambition with pride, vein glory and other negative traits. Even Shakespeare writes in King Henry VIII, “Cromwel, I charge thee, fling away Ambition, By that sinne fell the Angels.” Ambition, like hubris, is the downfall of heroes and the death of kings. Of course, we can see this in Macbeth and Hamlet, but is it always negative?
    In the United States we laud ambitious young people and encourage them to attain the heights of whatever it is they are reaching for. Was there not some equivalent in the Elizabethan era? Isn’t that what makes gallant knights go off to war? Was Shakespeare infected with unholy ambition? Perhaps ambition is only a valiant trait in a capitalist republic/democracy.
    Ambition can also be the object of desire, like a lover or a crown. I suspect that in Shakespeare’s works we will discover the troubling nature of ambition. We will see it destabilize society, and we will see characters compromise their beliefs (or society’s beliefs) over the objects of their ambitions. But I think that looking at these plays and poems through this prism will also reveal that Shakespeare’s era is a more fluid time than it at first seems. Shakespeare himself represents at least some degree of upward mobility.

Kennon, Identity #2

The theme of identity is inescapable in both The Comedy of Errors and The Taming of the Shrew. In both plays the notion of identity drives the plot: In The Comedy of Errors Antipholus S. seeks his identity in the form of his estranged family, while in The Taming of the Shrew Kate and the parallel character of Christopher Sly are each trained to alter their identities by changing their behaviors. In both works the characters’ identities lie outside of themselves and are entirely malleable, reinforcing Shakespeare’s assertation that identity is fluid and performative

From the opening of The Comedy of Errors Antipholus S. struggles to find his own identity, which only becomes more difficult as the play progresses. This sense of searching for the self is evident from his first scene, wherein Antipholus S. anticipates events to come, “I will go lose myself/And wander up and down to view the city.” (I.2, ll. 29-30). This line indicates that one’s identity becomes lost in a sea of strangers, and this fluid interpretation of identity becomes even more literal as Antipholus S. elaborates that, “I to the world am like a drop of water/That in the ocean seeks another drop…So I, to find a mother and a brother/In quest of them, unhappy, lose myself.” (I.2 ll. 35-40). These lines remark on the vastness of the world, and how particularly in large cities one’s personal identity is irrelevant and instead becomes an inconsequential unit that contributes to something much larger than the individual self. Shakespeare also uses these lines to cleverly foreshadow the identity confusion that results from Antipholus E.’s entrance later in the play. Antipholus hopes that by entering this "ocean" he will be able to locate his family and thereby find himself, expounding on the notion that the identity is not something within the self, but something that must be found in the surrounding world.  

Of course, the Antipholus’ (Antipholi?) are not the only characters to experience identity confusion. Not only do the Dromios encounter similarly farcical twin situations, but Dromio S. faces confusion about his place in society as a slave. He is beaten for being too casual and joking with his master, and Antipholus S. reprimands him by saying, “Because that I familiarly sometimes/Do use you for my fool, and chat with you/Your sauciness will jest upon my love/And make a common of my serious hours.” (II.2, ll. 26-29). Situations like this reinforce the idea that identity is determined largely by the way society treats us and the situations we are in – Dromio became confused because he was being treated like an equal by Antipholus, while in actuality he was still slave. Outside factors such as birth and rank determine identity in this world Shakespeare creates, and failing to perform the identity you are assigned can have negative and often violent consequences.   

Though I could write a lengthy thesis on identity in The Comedy of Errors alone, I think it is worthwhile to digress and explore a bit about identity in The Taming of the Shrew as well. Much of this play addresses the idea of molding someone's identity into something else. In the opening the drunk, Falstaff-remniscent Christopher Sly is made to pose as a lord, then the majority of the play's action focuses on Petruchio "taming" Kate and thereby transforming her from a shrew into a proper 16th century wife. This indicates how performative identity can be - though Sly is still a drunkard and it is doubtful that Kate has completely altered her thoughts and feelings by the final scene, because they outwardly do and say what they are told their identity is perceived as having changed. 

In both of these plays identity is determined largely by the way society perceives the characters - the Antipholi and the Dromios are perceived as being the wrong twin because they look alike, while Kate is perceived as being a shrew because she does not conform to contemporary standards of how a good wife should behave. Though class and gender divides may not play such an obvious role on our identity today as they did in 16th Century England, I think Shakespeare would agree that to a large extent we still perform our identities in accordance with what society demands of us.