Saturday, 17 July 2010
--WALTER BENJAMIN, 'Trauerspiel and Tragedy'
Friday, 16 July 2010
Thursday, 15 July 2010
Tuesday, 13 July 2010
Beyond the Pleasure Principle
From theatrical action, from the bustle and verbal agility which are the energy of comedy, the romantics transfer Shakespeare’s characters to a dim realm of spirit where Lamb can detach the souls even of Macbeth, Richard III, and Iago from their criminal designs and emphasise the purely intellectual adventurousness which “prompts them to overleap these moral fences”. Making the tragic heroes spiritual athletes exercising in the air was a prelude to the Victorian interpretation of them (institutionalized by AC Bradley) as exemplary victims of the march of the mind, exterminated because their idea of themselves is too costly and partial for the lucid universe to entertain. The nineteenth century moves serenely towards Bradley’s invention of a genre of Shakespearean tragedy, a ghostly Hegelian paradigm which spiritually unites the heroes and reduces the differences between them to local accidents.
But there is no Shakespearean tragedy. There are only the tragedies, and they are special extensions of comedy. When Yeats called Hamlet and Lear gay, he meant that they possessed a frenzied elation, rejoicing in their own destruction. He should have said that, in one important sense, they are merely laughable. Johnson saw that comedy was Shakespeare’s instinct, tragedy his skill, something to be worked at…..
--PETER CONRAD, ‘Shandyism: The Character of Romantic Irony’
Wars, civil wars, revolutions, counter-revolutions, nationalist struggles, uprisings and their repression have been ousted from the realm of tragedy and dispatched to the authority of judges avid to punish. Is this a regression? … Often I think: tragedy has deserted us; and that may be the true punishment.
-- MILAN KUNDERA, 'The Curtain'
After all, comedy not tragedy admits the disorderly into the realm of art.
Is it any wonder that along with our wars, our machines, and our neuroses we should find new meanings in comedy, or that comedy should represent our plight better than tragedy? For tragedy needs the “noble” and nowadays we seldom can assign any usable meaning to “nobility”.
--WYLIE SYPHER, ‘The Meanings of Comedy’
Tragic poetry, which is the most impassioned species of it, strives to carry on the feeling to the utmost point of sublimity or pathos, by all the force of comparison or contrast; loses the sense of present suffering in the imaginary exaggeration of it; exhausts the terror or pity by an unlimited indulgence of it; grapples with impossibilities in its desperate impatience of restraint; throws us back upon the past, forward into the future; brings every moment of our being, or object of nature in startling review before us; and in the rapid whirl of events, lifts us from the depths of woe to the highest contemplation of human life. When Edgar says of Lear, “Nothing but his unkind daughters could have brought him to this”; what a bewildered amazement, what a wrench of the imagination, that cannot be brought to conceive of any other cause of misery than that which has bowed it down, and absorbs all other sorrow in its own! His sorrow, like a flood, supplies the sources of all other sorrow. Again, when he exclaims in the mad scene, “The little dogs and all, Tray, Blanche and Sweetheart, see, they bark at me”, it is passion lending occasion to imagination to make every creature in league against him, conjuring up ingratitude and insult in their least looked-for and most galling shapes, searching every thread and fibre of his heart, and finding out the last remaining image of respect or attachment in the bottom of his breast, only to torture and kill it!
-- WILLIAM HAZLITT, 'On Poetry in General'