Page 118 - Shakespeare in the Movie From the Silent Era to Shakespeare in Love

A Tide in Men's Lives / 107

Hollywood Boulevard, we are momentarily sucked into the realm of
spectacle. Antony's ambushers hurl javelins and spears, then rush
in, swords ready, for the kill. As the battle becomes hand to hand,
however, there's a fade to black that disappoints the audience, eager
for a big fight scene. The filmmakers' stated desire to avoid popu-
larizing Shakespeare in such a manner seems wrongheaded, for the
Bard was a popular entertainer first and serious artist second; he
would, if he could, have staged that fight.
Instead of a scene showing Titinius's desperate ride, we see Pin-
darus on a hill, shouting down descriptions to Casius. This pulls the
audience out of a moviegoing experience by reminding them that
this is, in fact, a filmed play. "I suspect that if Shakespeare had been
the scriptwriter on this project," Philip T. Hartung argued in the
Commonweal, "he would have taken more liberties with his original
play than did producer John Houseman."
Several other important moments were missing, including the
poet Cinna's words (though mentioned, he is never seen) and the
brief argument between Antony and Octavius moments before the
battle. One effective element is Mankiewicz's handling of the
women's roles. Young Portia (Deborah Kerr) comes across as an early
feminist, begging her husband to treat her as an equal (rather than as
a trophy wife); had Brutus shared his plan, commonsensical Portia
would have argued against it. By the same token, Calpurnia (Greer
Garson), though an Establishment retrowoman, offers her husband
sage advice; had he listened, Caesar would have survived. Though
the play features scant scenes for women, the primary role of women
in Shakespeare's vision is fully conveyed.
Another plus is the final third of the film, often considered the
play's weakest part, as the sense of anxiety dissipates following
Caesar's death. Here, though, Antony—so ambiguous early on—
reveals, in scenes with Octavius and Lepidus, his essentially nasty
personality, allowing us to grasp that he is more Machiavellian than
Cassius. A crosscut to the tent of Cassius and Brutus shows them,
on the eve of ruination, coming close together as friends, Cassius
leaving much of his cynicism behind. It is a measure of Shake-
speare's irony-in-artistry that he could make us dislike Antony
(whom we were originally predisposed to admire) at the moment he
achieves power and, conversely, like Cassius (whom we despised at
first sight) precisely when he loses it.
However much we may have wished, early on, for Antony to
revenge Caesar, when he at last accomplishes this goal, we are left