08.18.06

I am a sucker for Shakespeare. The words, o' the words, send me into flights of delight. Even the goofiest of adaptations capture my attention.

I've been trying to rent the Branagh version of Hamlet, but it's disappeared from the shelves of my favourite movie rental shop. *sob* Feeling bereft, I picked up the recent(ish) version of Love's Labour's Lost starring his Branagh-ness. I don't know quite how to feel about the inclusion of 1930s tunes, but it was a hoot.

Mind you, I liked the Baz Luhrman Romeo + Juliet, so my taste may be suspect. But here's the thing; if that movie ushered even one person into enjoyment of Shakespeare, it's done well.

Far too many people have the mistaken notion that art, in any form, isn't for everyone. That one must be educated, or make over a certain amount of money, to enjoy the arts. Pshaw! I say.

I find it abhorrent that the Portland Museum of Art charges $10 just to get in the door. They offer four free hours a week, on Friday evenings, and that's it. What a way to cordon off art from everyone.

Pfui.

I remember, years ago, talking to one of my disreputable biker friends about Shakespeare. He was interested. I suggested some books. He was off like a shot. I had the unbelievable good fortune to take him to his very first Shakespeare play soon after. Six weeks later, he was up on the bar reciting a speech from Henry V. How cool is that? A playwright from 400 years ago can speak across centuries.

Amazing.

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