We caught a performance of Tamburlaine, the play that made Elizabethan Drama what it is, Saturday night. Through it, Christopher Marlowe first showed the potential of blank verse for the stage, and we credit him, too, because of Tamburlaine, with giving the dramas of the late Elizabethan and Jacobean periods their stock themes. The Shakespeare Theatre company handles everything well --the opulence of the East is gorgeously evoked in costume and staging, and it's a tour-de-force performance from Avery Brooks in the title role. (The photo is from a fantastic scene in the 2nd act, when Tamburlaine rides in triumph on a chariot pulled by his vanquished foes.)And yet...I found myself thinking mostly that Marlowe ain't Shakespeare. In spite of the marvelous pageantry and the beautiful language, there's just no way to engage with any of the characters, because we aren't privy to anyone's inner life. Stuff happens. Tamburlaine is a force of nature, and he just stomps relentlessly through one conquest after another in restless pursuit of his ambition. Yet you can't feel sorry for any of the folks he vanquishes, because they, too, are merely creatures of ambition. They're merely offended that his ambition outstrips theirs. About half an hour into the action, the play started to feel like just one damn thing after another.
There's only one exception to this rule. One queen in the second half is the sole character not to be seduced by the promise of a crown, and I perked up for her few moments on the stage. Shakespeare apparently agreed with me: his Henry plays are said to be sort of an argument with Marlowe --Shakespeare thought reluctance to rule would be more interesting to portray than ;-) ambition. In fact, there's apparently sort of a dialogue going on between Marlowe & Shakespeare that progresses thus: Tamburlaine- Henry-Edward II- Richard II. It would be interesting in some future season for the company to put all those plays on in rotating rep. and let us see the argument as the Elizabethans did.
There's an interesting scene at the close of the play where Tamburlaine mocks Mohamet and burns the Koran (don't tell CAIR). Immediately thereafter he's stricken ill. Which I guess definitively proves we didn't deface the Koran at Gitmo --all of our guards are still alive.
Mr. W. loved it. He's quite fond of "spectacle," plus, he thought it was good for all those DC liberals to see depicted an enemy with whom you can't reason. I don't know, Tamburlaine, Wagner --my beloved's taste in the arts seems to reveal an inner affinity with tyrants and the will to power. Should I be worried?
