《英语文学导论 An Introduction to English Literature》课程教学资源（参考资料）剑桥指南 THE CAMBRIDGE COMPAN ION TO SHAKESPEARE ON FILM，RUSSELL JACKSON

RUSSELL JACKSON illusionist theatre.This capacity for delivering'reality'was established alongside the capacity for depicting fantasy -establishing the now-familiar dialogue between the Lumiere and Melies aspects of the medium.11 Some early Shakespeare films(such as the Vitagraph Julius Caesar of 1908 or the I9I film of Benson's company in Richard Ill)were effectively a series of animated tab- leaux,corresponding at once to the pictorial aesthetic of contemporary Shakespeare productions,and to the tradition in the graphic arts of illustrating key moments from the plays.Others,such as the Hamlet featuring the actor- manager Sir Johnston Forbes-Robertson(1913),were more concerned to convey the narrative shape of the play and the quality of the actor's performance,but also took advantage of the opportunity to 'illustrate'to a degree not possible in the theatre,sometimes by using open-air shooting.From the commercial point of view,relatively spacious and historically authentic settings and appropriate costume designs wereproduction values'that both mimicked and challenged the popular theatre.2 What silent films lacked,of course,was dialogue,and with it not merely its function in conveying character and transactions,but also the pres- ence within the film of poetic description and evocation to rival the milieu shown by the film-maker.Paradoxically,the advent of the 'talkies'made it more difficult to film Shakespeare's plays.The theory and practice of staging Shakespeare in the theatre had moved radically away from pictorialism,symphonic music around and during speeches and the wholesale cutting of the text.3 Now it seemed that the cinema was reinstating these habits of the actor-manager's theatre. The reception accorded the Warner Brothers'A Midsummer Night's Dream in 1935 demonstrates the ways in which sound crystallised the problem of poetry. This film married the glamour of movies-costly production values,big stars- to 'high'European culture,represented not only by William Shakespeare but also by Max Reinhardt,one of the greatest and most versatile theatrical directors of his time.Its promotion in these terms has been mentioned already(Introduction, p.7).Beyond the 'trade'press(where exhibitors'anxiety about audience resis- tance dominated)the reviewers tended to focus on a new element of suspense, as to whether the movies could handle Shakespeare at his most 'poetic'.The anonymous reviewer in The Times (I7 October 1935)posed the question with a degree of condescension:'No doubt it was too much to expect an adequate per- formance of a play by Shakespeare in a film,though there does not seem to be any real reason why it should not be attempted,and the result might be extremely exciting...'Reinhardt's version 'has all the faults that grandiose stage produc- tions of Shakespeare once committed but have now happily outgrown'.The Daily Express,under the headline 'It Should Never Have Been Filmed',admon- ished the producers:Shakespeare is not,and never will be,film material.You will never make screen entertainment out of blank verse.It has nothing to do with cinema,which is primarily a visual form'(October 1935). 20

illusionist theatre. This capacity for delivering ‘reality’ was established alongside the capacity for depicting fantasy – establishing the now-familiar dialogue between the Lumière and Méliès aspects of the medium.11 Some early Shakespeare films (such as the Vitagraph Julius Caesar of 1908 or the 1911 film of Benson’s company in Richard III) were effectively a series of animated tab￾leaux, corresponding at once to the pictorial aesthetic of contemporary Shakespeare productions, and to the tradition in the graphic arts of illustrating key moments from the plays. Others, such as the Hamlet featuring the actor￾manager Sir Johnston Forbes-Robertson (1913), were more concerned to convey the narrative shape of the play and the quality of the actor’s performance, but also took advantage of the opportunity to ‘illustrate’ to a degree not possible in the theatre, sometimes by using open-air shooting. From the commercial point of view, relatively spacious and historically authentic settings and appropriate costume designs were ‘production values’ that both mimicked and challenged the popular theatre.12 What silent films lacked, of course, was dialogue, and with it not merely its function in conveying character and transactions, but also the pres￾ence within the filmof poetic description and evocation to rival the milieu shown by the film-maker. Paradoxically, the advent of the ‘talkies’ made it more difficult to filmShakespeare’s plays. The theory and practice of staging Shakespeare in the theatre had moved radically away from pictorialism, symphonic music around and during speeches and the wholesale cutting of the text.13 Now it seemed that the cinema was reinstating these habits of the actor-manager’s theatre. The reception accorded the Warner Brothers’ A Midsummer Night’s Dream in 1935 demonstrates the ways in which sound crystallised the problem of poetry. This film married the glamour of movies – costly production values, big stars – to ‘high’ European culture, represented not only by William Shakespeare but also by Max Reinhardt, one of the greatest and most versatile theatrical directors of his time. Its promotion in these terms has been mentioned already (Introduction, p. 7). Beyond the ‘trade’ press (where exhibitors’ anxiety about audience resis￾tance dominated) the reviewers tended to focus on a new element of suspense, as to whether the movies could handle Shakespeare at his most ‘poetic’. The anonymous reviewer in The Times (17 October 1935) posed the question with a degree of condescension: ‘No doubt it was too much to expect an adequate per￾formance of a play by Shakespeare in a film, though there does not seem to be any real reason why it should not be attempted, and the result might be extremely exciting . . .’ Reinhardt’s version ‘has all the faults that grandiose stage produc￾tions of Shakespeare once committed but have now happily outgrown’. The Daily Express, under the headline ‘It Should Never Have Been Filmed’, admon￾ished the producers: ‘Shakespeare is not, and never will be, film material. You will never make screen entertainment out of blank verse. It has nothing to do with cinema, which is primarily a visual form’ (11 October 1935). russell jackson 20

From play-script to screenplay MGM's Romeo and Juliet,with Norma Shearer and Leslie Howard,released a year later,was treated by many critics as yet another test for the cinema-or at least,the sound film-and the publicity was clearly designed to meet objections half-way.Audiences were given to understand that the whole thing had been approached conscientiously.Shakespeare's wishes were being fulfilled to a degree beyond the capacity of his own stage.(This was an argument familiar in the days of the Victorian and Edwardian actor-managers.)In the published 'scenario'the literary adviser,Professor William Strunk,Jr.,wrote that the advantages of the screen lay 'in continuity,in control of tempo,and in portrayal of background'.14 The burden of this fell on such lavish set pieces as the spectacular opening sequence,with the rival factions processing to church on a Sunday morning in Verona,or the 'noisy,brightly colored pageant of fifteenth-century Italian life under blue skies in spring weather'that provided the setting for Shakespeare's Act 2 scene 2.Such scenes could be enlisted in support of Strunk's claim that the film'does not merely tell a story of individuals;it gives a picture of the life of a great epoch,and in so doing illuminates the story'.is Writing in the Spectator,Graham Greene found himself 'less than ever con- vinced that there is an aesthetic justification for filming Shakespeare at all'.He observed of Cukor's film of Romeo and Juliet that 'the effect of even the best scenes is to distract,much in the same way as the old Tree productions dis- tracted'.Perhaps the poetry could only be served if 'we abjure all the liberties the huge sets and extras condemn us to.Something like Dreyer's Passion of Jeanne d'Arc,the white-washed walls and the slow stream of faces,might preserve a little more of the poetry than this commercial splendour."16 Harley Granville Barker,whose own practice and theory had done much to discredit the pictori- alism of the old lavishly pictorial staging of Shakespeare-particularly as prac- tised by Sir Herbert Beerbohm-Tree in the Igoos-denounced both the new Romeo and Juliet and Reinhardt's Dream.The film-maker's concern,he wrote, was not with the integrity of Shakespeare's play but with the making of pictures, as many and as good pictures as possible'.The lesson was that the two art forms did not mix:'if we intrude scenery when [Shakespeare]thought he needed none ..we wrong his art'.The following week a rejoinder from Alfred Hitchcock praised the dramatist for having'almost the scenario writer's gift for keeping the story moving from setting to setting'.7 The English-language Shakespeare films of the 194os and early 195os-with the exception of Castellani's 1954 Romeo and Juliet-all use milieu in a more or less symbolic,stylised manner.This has more in common with contemporary stage production of the plays than with the habitual production values of the commercial cinema.None of Olivier's three films is conventionally realistic either in production design or in camerawork.Henry V (1944)moves from a depiction of Elizabethan London in realistic mode to stylised settings based on 2I

MGM’s Romeo and Juliet, with Norma Shearer and Leslie Howard, released a year later, was treated by many critics as yet another test for the cinema – or at least, the sound film – and the publicity was clearly designed to meet objections half-way. Audiences were given to understand that the whole thing had been approached conscientiously. Shakespeare’s wishes were being fulfilled to a degree beyond the capacity of his own stage. (This was an argument familiar in the days of the Victorian and Edwardian actor-managers.) In the published ‘scenario’ the literary adviser, Professor William Strunk, Jr., wrote that the advantages of the screen lay ‘in continuity, in control of tempo, and in portrayal of background’.14 The burden of this fell on such lavish set pieces as the spectacular opening sequence, with the rival factions processing to church on a Sunday morning in Verona, or the ‘noisy, brightly colored pageant of fifteenth-century Italian life under blue skies in spring weather’ that provided the setting for Shakespeare’s Act 2 scene 2. Such scenes could be enlisted in support of Strunk’s claim that the film ‘does not merely tell a story of individuals; it gives a picture of the life of a great epoch, and in so doing illuminates the story’.15 Writing in the Spectator, Graham Greene found himself ‘less than ever con￾vinced that there is an aesthetic justification for filming Shakespeare at all’. He observed of Cukor’s film of Romeo and Juliet that ‘the effect of even the best scenes is to distract, much in the same way as the old Tree productions dis￾tracted’. Perhaps the poetry could only be served if ‘we abjure all the liberties the huge sets and extras condemn us to. Something like Dreyer’s Passion of Jeanne d’Arc, the white-washed walls and the slow stream of faces, might preserve a little more of the poetry than this commercial splendour.’16 Harley Granville Barker, whose own practice and theory had done much to discredit the pictori￾alism of the old lavishly pictorial staging of Shakespeare – particularly as prac￾tised by Sir Herbert Beerbohm-Tree in the 1900s – denounced both the new Romeo and Juliet and Reinhardt’s Dream. The film-maker’s concern, he wrote, ‘was not with the integrity of Shakespeare’s play but with the making of pictures, as many and as good pictures as possible’. The lesson was that the two art forms did not mix: ‘if we intrude scenery when [Shakespeare] thought he needed none . . . we wrong his art’. The following week a rejoinder from Alfred Hitchcock praised the dramatist for having ‘almost the scenario writer’s gift for keeping the story moving from setting to setting’.17 The English-language Shakespeare films of the 1940s and early 1950s – with the exception of Castellani’s 1954 Romeo and Juliet – all use milieu in a more or less symbolic, stylised manner. This has more in common with contemporary stage production of the plays than with the habitual production values of the commercial cinema. None of Olivier’s three films is conventionally realistic either in production design or in camerawork. Henry V (1944) moves from a depiction of Elizabethan London in realistic mode to stylised settings based on From play-script to screenplay 21

RUSSELL JACKSON the Duc de Berri's Book of Hours.For Hamlet(1948)the production designer Roger Furse created Elsinore as a castle of the mind,and Olivier himself remarked that he first imagined the film as a series of engravings.In Richard III (1955),also with Furse as designer,Olivier uses a sparsely decorated,apparently interconnected series of locations in a medieval London that has something of the style but none of the prettiness of the tableaux in Henry V.Here milieu can assume symbolic significance with relatively little support from cinematography or editing.In both Henry V and Richard IlI the move to a genuine outdoor loca- tion for the climactic battle comes as a shock. Orson Welles's Macbeth(1948),with its deliberate sense of confinement,and frankly (and cheaply)'studio'settings,can be read as either deliberate exercise in the manner of I9zos German Expressionism,or a failure to achieve a realistic milieu.The former is consistent with Welles's other work,where 'real'locations (as in Othello and Chimes at Midnight)are used expressively,either by photog- raphy or editing.As Pauline Kael observed of Chimes at Midnight,Welles, avoiding the naturalistic use of the outdoors in which Shakespeare's dialogue sounds more stagey than on stage,has photographically stylized the Spanish locations,creating a theatrically darkened,slightly unrealistic world of angles and low beams and silhouettes.Peter Hall's A Midsummer Night's Dream (1968)uses locations,with a deliberate 'alienation technique'in the daytime world('Athens'appears aggressively as a title over an opening shot of the ines- capably English house at Compton Verney in Warwickshire)and a chaos of filters and accordingly disruptive editing devices in the night-time woods.For many reviewers the woodland remained obstinately earthy.'Nature'(wrote Eric Rhode in the Listener),'a complex concept in the text,becomes visible,concrete, specific:we move back,as it were,from the workings of the poet's mind to the possible source of his inspiration.'Another reviewer complained that Hall had 'lost all touch with unreality.20 Peter Brook once declared that the power of a Shakespeare play on stage stems from the fact that it happens "nowhere".A Shakespeare play has no setting.Every attempt,whether supported by aesthetic or political reasons,to try to build a frame round a Shakespeare play is an imposition which runs the risk of reducing the play:it can only sing,live and breathe in an empty space. Brook's own film of King Lear(1971)does not create a 'nowhere'and does build a frame round the play,but the wintry civilisation,the sense that nature is a con- stant threat against which furred gowns and huddled encampments are a fragile defence,might be considered a symbolic rather than 'real'milieu.Kozintsev, working in a comparable manner in his 197o King Lear,displays the structures of a society more forcefully than Brook.The opening shots depict the slow progress across a barren heath of what becomes a large crowd of peasants.They assemble silently on the ridges overlooking what we presently learn is Lear's 22

the Duc de Berri’s Book of Hours.18 For Hamlet (1948) the production designer Roger Furse created Elsinore as a castle of the mind, and Olivier himself remarked that he first imagined the film as a series of engravings. In Richard III (1955), also with Furse as designer, Olivier uses a sparsely decorated, apparently interconnected series of locations in a medieval London that has something of the style but none of the prettiness of the tableaux in Henry V. Here milieu can assume symbolic significance with relatively little support from cinematography or editing. In both Henry V and Richard III the move to a genuine outdoor loca￾tion for the climactic battle comes as a shock. Orson Welles’s Macbeth (1948), with its deliberate sense of confinement, and frankly (and cheaply) ‘studio’ settings, can be read as either deliberate exercise in the manner of 1920s German Expressionism, or a failure to achieve a realistic milieu. The former is consistent with Welles’s other work, where ‘real’ locations (as in Othello and Chimes at Midnight) are used expressively, either by photog￾raphy or editing. As Pauline Kael observed of Chimes at Midnight, ‘Welles, avoiding the naturalistic use of the outdoors in which Shakespeare’s dialogue sounds more stagey than on stage, has photographically stylized the Spanish locations, creating a theatrically darkened, slightly unrealistic world of angles and low beams and silhouettes.’ 19 Peter Hall’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream (1968) uses locations, with a deliberate ‘alienation technique’ in the daytime world (‘Athens’ appears aggressively as a title over an opening shot of the ines￾capably English house at Compton Verney in Warwickshire) and a chaos of filters and accordingly disruptive editing devices in the night-time woods. For many reviewers the woodland remained obstinately earthy. ‘Nature’ (wrote Eric Rhode in the Listener), ‘a complex concept in the text, becomes visible, concrete, specific: we move back, as it were, from the workings of the poet’s mind to the possible source of his inspiration.’ Another reviewer complained that Hall had ‘lost all touch with unreality’.20 Peter Brook once declared that ‘the power of a Shakespeare play on stage stems from the fact that it happens “nowhere”. A Shakespeare play has no setting. Every attempt, whether supported by aesthetic or political reasons, to try to build a frame round a Shakespeare play is an imposition which runs the risk of reducing the play: it can only sing, live and breathe in an empty space.’ 21 Brook’s own filmof King Lear (1971) does not create a ‘nowhere’ and does build a frame round the play, but the wintry civilisation, the sense that nature is a con￾stant threat against which furred gowns and huddled encampments are a fragile defence, might be considered a symbolic rather than ‘real’ milieu. Kozintsev, working in a comparable manner in his 1970 King Lear, displays the structures of a society more forcefully than Brook. The opening shots depict the slow progress across a barren heath of what becomes a large crowd of peasants. They assemble silently on the ridges overlooking what we presently learn is Lear’s russell jackson 22

From play-script to screenplay castle.As Sergei Yutkevitch observed,the whole film begins remarkably,not as an incident within the walls of a castle,but as an event with repercussions far beyond.It is not only the characters of the drama who are involved but an impor- tant new hero:the people.22 Kenneth Tynan hailed the same director's earlier Hamlet(1964)for populating Elsinore-normally deserted in the theatre,'apart from the characters with names and a few extras to tote halberds,serve drinks and express shock when people of rank are insulted or slaughtered'.Kozintsev 'never let the audience forget that a royal castle is like a vast hotel which some- body has to run'23 Akira Kurosawa's Kumonosu-djo(Spider's Web Castle)is more symbolic than realist:the Spider's Web Forest-the equivalent of Birnam Wood-is its govern- ing metaphor,and the wood's defiance of the laws of nature reflects the hero's own subversion of the moral order.24 The only signs of benign nature in the film are the peaceful fields(with toiling peasants)through which Tsuzuki's(Duncan's) entourage approaches Washizu's(Macbeth's)castle.Architecture and domestic settings may be historically correct(at one point in the published screenplay the black'style of castle building is referred to),but as in the same director's later Ran(1985)they are equally charged with symbolic significance.The interiors, with their classical Japanese proportions,elegant sparseness and sliding walls, are made to isolate the figures as though on a Noh stage,placing them in sym- bolic rather than realistic relation to each other and to such emblems of status as a sword or a wall-hanging.25 In comparison,the medieval milieu of Roman Polanski's Macbeth (197)is fashioned in a commonplace if accomplished 'realistic'historical mode but remains neutral-except when the weather turns bad or the killing begins.The various castles are distinguished from one another in comfort and regality,so there is a sense of the Macbeths as moving up in the world after the regicide.But these are never castles of the mind,and Polanski's Birnam Wood is only a 'moving grove'because the attacking soldiers carry branches to conceal them- selves.The matter-of-(medieval)-fact world created by Polanski is part of a strat- egy,what one reviewer identified as his being a 'gothic realist'whose'murderous carnivals have an everyday look'2 Polanski creates an unremarkable,if meticu- lously realised milieu in which extraordinary events will take place and uncon- ventional thought will be given utterance.The setting is not itself a privileged speaker,as in Brook or Kurosawa,nor does it carry the social significance that Kozintsev makes it provide. This brief survey of milieu in a handful of films reflects one important devel- opment in the reception of Shakespeare on film:the setting gradually receives its due as an element of the poetic vocabulary of film and,consequently,as an active element in the process of adaptation,as significant as the cutting or reordering of the spoken words.Although projects(such as Andre Bazin's)to formulate a 23

castle. As Sergei Yutkevitch observed, ‘the whole filmbegins remarkably, not as an incident within the walls of a castle, but as an event with repercussions far beyond. It is not only the characters of the drama who are involved but an impor￾tant new hero: the people.’22 Kenneth Tynan hailed the same director’s earlier Hamlet (1964) for populating Elsinore – normally deserted in the theatre, ‘apart fromthe characters with names and a few extras to tote halberds, serve drinks and express shock when people of rank are insulted or slaughtered’. Kozintsev ‘never let the audience forget that a royal castle is like a vast hotel which some￾body has to run’.23 Akira Kurosawa’s Kumonosu-djo (Spider’s Web Castle) is more symbolic than realist: the Spider’s Web Forest – the equivalent of BirnamWood – is its govern￾ing metaphor, and the wood’s defiance of the laws of nature reflects the hero’s own subversion of the moral order.24 The only signs of benign nature in the film are the peaceful fields (with toiling peasants) through which Tsuzuki’s (Duncan’s) entourage approaches Washizu’s (Macbeth’s) castle. Architecture and domestic settings may be historically correct (at one point in the published screenplay the ‘black’ style of castle building is referred to), but as in the same director’s later Ran (1985) they are equally charged with symbolic significance. The interiors, with their classical Japanese proportions, elegant sparseness and sliding walls, are made to isolate the figures as though on a Noh stage, placing them in sym￾bolic rather than realistic relation to each other and to such emblems of status as a sword or a wall-hanging.25 In comparison, the medieval milieu of Roman Polanski’s Macbeth (1971) is fashioned in a commonplace if accomplished ‘realistic’ historical mode but remains neutral – except when the weather turns bad or the killing begins. The various castles are distinguished from one another in comfort and regality, so there is a sense of the Macbeths as moving up in the world after the regicide. But these are never castles of the mind, and Polanski’s Birnam Wood is only a ‘moving grove’ because the attacking soldiers carry branches to conceal them￾selves. The matter-of-(medieval)-fact world created by Polanski is part of a strat￾egy, what one reviewer identified as his being a ‘gothic realist’ whose ‘murderous carnivals have an everyday look’.26 Polanski creates an unremarkable, if meticu￾lously realised milieu in which extraordinary events will take place and uncon￾ventional thought will be given utterance. The setting is not itself a privileged speaker, as in Brook or Kurosawa, nor does it carry the social significance that Kozintsev makes it provide. This brief survey of milieu in a handful of films reflects one important devel￾opment in the reception of Shakespeare on film: the setting gradually receives its due as an element of the poetic vocabulary of film and, consequently, as an active element in the process of adaptation, as significant as the cutting or reordering of the spoken words. Although projects (such as André Bazin’s) to formulate a From play-script to screenplay 23

RUSSELL JACKSON phenomenology of cinema rightly make distinction between dialogue in the theatre and on film,it is the nature of the space shown to the viewer,and the way it is shown,that dominates.As Bazin observes,'the screen is not a frame like that of a picture but a mask which allows only a part of the action to be seen'The deployment of scenic space,the creation of a world before the lens and the impli- cation of one beyond its field of vision,are central to the narrative cinema.This dimension of the films'work as interpretations of the original text is crucial to any assessment of them.At the same time,it should be remembered that-quite apart from the milieu depicted and the sense we are given of the actors'relation- ship to it(and to each other within it)-films also manipulate the audience's rela- tionship to the space in which action unfolds.Overhearing scenes,often of great complexity and sophistication on Shakespeare's stage,are particularly difficult to transfer to the screen.In the theatre we see the whole of the playing area,and we can choose (even if the director takes steps to influence us)whom to attend to when Othello overhears Cassio with lago and Bianca,or when Benedick and Beatrice overhear the allegations of their love for each other.The effect is inten- sified in scenes with greater numbers of on-stage observers.When Hamlet is per- formed on stage we see all the witnesses of the 'Mousetrap'at once;in Love's Labour's Lost we see the concealed Berowne-somewhere 'above'on the stage- observing the King,Longaville and Dumaine in turn,and watch each newly arrived(and newly concealed)Lord as they observe the others.In the cinema our view of the observers and the observed in such scenes is controlled,and its quality altered.We are all shown the same selection of images and sounds,and we are obliged to see and hear each person's reactions serially rather than simul- taneously.The members of a theatre audience(themselves diversely placed)may pick and choose to diverse effect:here the cinema,at least in its conventional form,has the effect of limiting the audience's options and with them,arguably, the scope of its reactions.28 Showing,telling and thinking Many critics,though,particularly in the earlier decades of sound,were influ- enced in their response by the fact that in the theatre Shakespeare had only recently been emancipated from the scenic display that in the theatre as now in the cinema had come to represent commercial vulgarisation.This anxiety about the visualised image usurping the spoken word's legitimate function has often dominated commentary on filmed Shakespeare.A notable example is the recep- tion by literary critics of Polanski's Macbeth,where the director's professed aim was to 'visualise'as much as possible.Apart from its role in the treatment of the supernatural(discussed by Neil Forsyth in chapter 16),this practice produced occasional over-deliberate enactment of imagery.At the feast after Macbeth's 24

phenomenology of cinema rightly make distinction between dialogue in the theatre and on film, it is the nature of the space shown to the viewer, and the way it is shown, that dominates. As Bazin observes, ‘the screen is not a frame like that of a picture but a mask which allows only a part of the action to be seen’.27 The deployment of scenic space, the creation of a world before the lens and the impli￾cation of one beyond its field of vision, are central to the narrative cinema. This dimension of the films’ work as interpretations of the original text is crucial to any assessment of them. At the same time, it should be remembered that – quite apart from the milieu depicted and the sense we are given of the actors’ relation￾ship to it (and to each other within it) – films also manipulate the audience’s rela￾tionship to the space in which action unfolds. Overhearing scenes, often of great complexity and sophistication on Shakespeare’s stage, are particularly difficult to transfer to the screen. In the theatre we see the whole of the playing area, and we can choose (even if the director takes steps to influence us) whom to attend to when Othello overhears Cassio with Iago and Bianca, or when Benedick and Beatrice overhear the allegations of their love for each other. The effect is inten￾sified in scenes with greater numbers of on-stage observers. When Hamlet is per￾formed on stage we see all the witnesses of the ‘Mousetrap’ at once; in Love’s Labour’s Lost we see the concealed Berowne – somewhere ‘above’ on the stage – observing the King, Longaville and Dumaine in turn, and watch each newly arrived (and newly concealed) Lord as they observe the others. In the cinema our view of the observers and the observed in such scenes is controlled, and its quality altered. We are all shown the same selection of images and sounds, and we are obliged to see and hear each person’s reactions serially rather than simul￾taneously. The members of a theatre audience (themselves diversely placed) may pick and choose to diverse effect: here the cinema, at least in its conventional form, has the effect of limiting the audience’s options and with them, arguably, the scope of its reactions.28 Showing, telling and thinking Many critics, though, particularly in the earlier decades of sound, were influ￾enced in their response by the fact that in the theatre Shakespeare had only recently been emancipated from the scenic display that in the theatre as now in the cinema had come to represent commercial vulgarisation. This anxiety about the visualised image usurping the spoken word’s legitimate function has often dominated commentary on filmed Shakespeare. A notable example is the recep￾tion by literary critics of Polanski’s Macbeth, where the director’s professed aim was to ‘visualise’ as much as possible. Apart from its role in the treatment of the supernatural (discussed by Neil Forsyth in chapter 16), this practice produced occasional over-deliberate enactment of imagery. At the feast after Macbeth’s russell jackson 24