Thoughts of Shakespeare and Love

We all have movies that we can watch over and over again and never tire of. (Or, at least, everyone I know does.) I have a short list of films that include The Reduced Shakespeare Company's The Complete Works of Shakespeare, Abridged, Disney's Hercules, (and of course) all three of The Lord of the Rings. All of these movies are ones that I can nap to, do homework to, watch while cooking, or really watch for pleasure. I know the songs, I know the script... Recently, my list has expanded to include Shakespeare in Love. (I know - I'm SUCH an English major.)

I've heard many Shakespeare lovers complain that the whole story of the movie definitely never happened, but I can't complain about historical inaccuracies. I love the story, I love the actors, I love the poetry of the whole spectacle. I love those historical inaccuracies, because I would so much rather visualize Joseph Fiennes as Shakespeare than the stuffy, balding, ruffled version we see everywhere else.

(Although, I will admit am overly fond of those ruffles.)

I've taken on an internship with a friend of my mother's, who will eventually have me doing more interesting things (that are a little more directly applicable to my career path), but for now it is a good deal of grunt work - copying html from her website, making sure all of her blog posts are backed up as PDFs, that kind of thing - and so because the DVD happened to be sitting on my desk I popped it into my computer while I was copying and pasting endless (endless) blog posts.

And because of the endless (endless, I tell you) blog posts, I spent two hours with about a third of my brain on the work I was completing, a third of my brain on the movie itself, and a third of my brain thinking of the first time I watched the movie. I think that's why I like it so much.

I remember very vividly the summer I spent in England with my dad in 2005. It was a whirlwind of a summer, with the highest of highs and the lowest of lows squashed into fewer than eight weeks. I visited France, Germany, Spain, and Wales with my dad and brother (although Duncan didn't go to Spain), I drank so much tea I could have filled a swimming pool, (Okay, that may be a bit of an exaggeration!), I did things like read books all day and all night, and finish them as the sun was rising again. I drank wine, helped Dad cook dinners, and read more books. I watched movies, I watched movies, I watched movies. The summer was so beautiful, despite its tragedies. I have so many fond memories of it, and most of them I cannot begin to even describe.

I can still remember sitting on my bed in that creaky old house (we guessed it was built in the early-mid-18th century, if I remember correctly), with the window open (with no fear of mosquitos or bees flying in to disturb you!), curled up watching Shakespeare in Love. I was entranced by it - since I was in England, and especially having visited the globe a few months before. I clutched my cup of tea (and probably snacked on a few McVittie's digestive biscuits, too!) and truly fell in love with Shakespeare - the era, the couture, the love, the sex, the language... I dreamed (I still dream) of falling so passionately in love with someone like that, where poetry just seems to seep into your soul and then leap right back out of it. I know it's unlikely that any beau of mine will write me a sonnet, but my fifteen-year-old heart will always, always wish for one. He wouldn't even have to compare me to a summer's day.

So when I watch Shakespeare in Love, I think of my other home, and all the dreams I first dreamed there. And that's why I can watch it over and over again.