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Shakespeare and the Erotic
From: Cambridge University Press
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Celia R. Daileader |
EDITOR'S INTRODUCTION |
Franco Zeffirelli's 1968 film version of Romeo and Juliet has set a standard of production and interpretation that has influenced almost all subsequent cinematic interpretations of Shakespeare. But this in turn raises further issues relating to eroticism as a feature of the plays, and more broadly to feminist interests. In this extract from her essay in the book Shakespeare and Sexuality (available through Fathom), Celia R. Daileader examines some of the issues relating to "Nude Shakespeare in film and nineties popular feminism". |
 nything wrong and everything right with recent Shakespeare films should be blamed on Zeffirelli. His 1968 Romeo and Juliet in many ways provided the prototype for a genre which, after an odd dormancy in the seventies and early eighties, has since come into its own. This genre which I will call the 'period romance' lent itself well to Shakespeare's love stories, and has its apotheosis in Shakespeare in Love. Here I wish only to set down some observations about Zeffirelli's construction of eroticism, in order to measure his influence on directors in the nineties. |
Visual extravagance
One of the trademarks of the period romance is a certain visual opulence, epitomized in Zeffirelli's Capulet ball. The historical setting alone need not require such extravagance of costume, such numbers of extras, such heavily ornamented goblets and flagons, such over-laden tables of food. Yet, while critics faulted the director for this visual excess, audiences clearly loved it. And, as I have elsewhere argued, the lavish costumes in particular play a crucial role in setting the stage for the erotic unveiling in the dawn-parting scene (C.R. Daileader, Eroticism on the Renaissance Stage, 1998, p. 51). Romeo's peek-a-boo game with his mask in the dancing sequence epitomizes the film's specularity, its construction of the erotic body as that which is to-be-uncovered. According to Roland Barthes in The Pleasure of the Text (1975, p.10), this is what constitutes eroticism generally: 'the staging of an appearance-as-disappearance'. But not all approaches to erotic undressing are alike; the effect of a nude-shot featuring a previously overdressed body will differ dramatically from the effect of a more gradual revelation of skin. |
And Zeffirelli's lovers do seem especially covered-up during the ball scene. The sensuality of the dance sequence is conveyed by the more subtle means of facial expression and gesture. Olivia Hussey's touch to her lips, her soft guttural noises during the kiss and after, and that ineffable, almost drugged quality of her gaze, more effectively connote the surprise of adolescent sexual discovery--itself a strange combination of the infantile and the precocious--than any amount of groping. (Luhrmann's Juliet does not approach this aura of erotic surrender: Claire Danes is too controlled and, ironically, too mature.) The fact that it is Juliet rather than Romeo whose erotic aura deserves comment here should not surprise anybody; the play has always been, to some degree, about Juliet, and this quality is only strengthened by what Peter S. Donaldson calls the '(bi-)sexual gaze' of Zeffirelli's camera. The focus on Juliet's sexual response in the ball scene anticipates the privileging of her gaze in the dawn-parting scene. |
But we were talking about undressing, and before we plunge into the naked feast of 3.1 we should touch upon the glimpse of Juliet's cleavage in the balcony scene. Another important component of the period romance is the heroine's corset. Although Olivia Hussey's Juliet is arguably less corseted than subsequent romantic heroines, in this scene it is very hard to ignore the contraption which makes a spectacle of her pubescent bust, strategically targeted by the camera as she leans over the balcony. Setting aside for the moment my feminist distaste for the implement--which will be addressed later, in the context of the corset's continuing appeal in the motion picture industry--what stands out is its pertinence to the notion of nudity-as-construct. The corset is technically an item of clothing, yet it creates a kind of nudity; in its redesigning of the female figure, the corset winds up offering more cleavage to the eye than might be available when a woman is naked. When the corset-wearer in question is scarcely a woman at all, like the fifteen-year-old Hussey, this enhancement effect becomes even more striking. |
Romeo's voyeurism in the balcony scene is, of course, true to Shakespeare's text, and thus the focus on Juliet's breasts is hardly surprising. Far less true to the source is the scene which Shakespeare intended as its twin: the dawn parting at Juliet's balcony. In discussing Zeffirelli's version of 3.1 it is easy to lose sight of the impact it had on its original audiences; indeed, by the time Luhrmann began his version of the play, the bedroom interior had become a tradition of its own as the setting for Shakespeare's aubade. I will simply summarize my thoughts for the sake of future comparison. First, a pillow-shot: the two profiles, asleep. The camera pans back to show the bed: Juliet, on her back, her breasts covered by her hair and Romeo's arm, the sheets wrapped around her from the stomach down; Romeo, on his stomach and, by contrast, wholly uncovered (the frame exposes him to the calves). He wakes, goes to the window and stands framed in the sheer white curtains, back, buttocks and thighs in focus. Cut to Juliet stirring, pulling the sheet up to her neck; cut back to nude Romeo; cut to Juliet, now waking fully and looking at him; cut back to Romeo, as he bends to put on his hose. During the 'jocund day' discussion, he slowly dresses, but at 'Let me be taken' he throws his shirt aside and begins nuzzling her. At 'It is the lark', she leaps out of the bed, allowing a flash of her chest; then she is in her smock, and he finishes dressing. |
A post-modern Romeo
Although Parker's Othello (1995) is chronologically the first nineties' film in our list, a more natural transition would be to Luhrmann's 1996 Romeo, providing a direct post-modern comment on Zeffirelli's classic. Contrasts between the two films are, of course, too numerous to detail in the space of this overview; what interests me are the points of intersection in the ball scene, the balcony scene, and the dawn parting. First, however, there is the matter of genre; Luhrmann's film is not a period romance as defined above--indeed, to compete with Zeffirelli's film, it could not be. Luhrmann's brilliance lies in his borrowing of certain 'period' elements and superimposing them on a darkly post-modern urban setting. The ball scene in particular reworks Zeffirelli's in self-conscious, even dryly ironic ways: all of the opulence is there, the circular dances replaced and out-done by the fireworks blossoming above the revellers' heads. The Capulet mansion is architecturally pre-modern. Also, many of the costumes at the ball are historical, most notably Romeo's suit of armour and Juliet's Renaissance-angel costume; indeed, the white gown is strikingly reminiscent of Hussey's in the balcony scene, and although Juliet's costume doesn't require a corset, her mother's 'Egyptian' costume (anachronistically) does. |
The film's erotic texture is, however, quite different from that of Zeffirelli's film. From the beginning, there is more skin on view, generally male chests airing in the heat of 'Verona Beach' (Romeo habitually leaves his Hawaiian shirts open); the effect of this display is, however, to de-eroticize, or at least to normalize, a certain amount of nudity, requiring other devices to convey the sexuality of the young lovers. Hence, Luhrmann's use of water imagery--from the fish-tank obscuring the lovers' first mutual gaze, to the pool in which they declare their love, to the storm on the night of their nuptials. (I owe these observations to Jennifer Butts, 'Here Lay Those Whose Names Are Writ in Water: Baz Luhrmann's (William Shakespeare's) Romeo and Juliet and Gender Fluidity for the Millennium', unpublished paper, 1997). And indeed, for an audience as jaded as nineties' middle-class teenagers, simple nudity might not have done the job. Nor, I think, would the indignity of Hussey's corset have worked on the sophisticated 'girl power' icon, Danes, whose equally willowy figure would have required as much cleavage-building rigour. Thus, in lieu of Romeo's moonlit voyeurism, we witness a late-night swim in the pool conveniently placed under Juliet's window. The effect is remarkable. Wet skin, even clothed (especially clothed, with some fabrics) is automatically sexier: wetness is more 'naked' or nakedly sexual in suggesting the sweat and fluids of coitus, and yet it is also curiously ornamental, its luminosity transforming the banal facts of biology. One need not talk about the pornographic convention of the wet tee-shirt to get this point across--though I'm sure that some viewers were dismayed by the stubborn opacity of Danes' drenched bodice. |
More is owed to Zeffirelli in the dawn-parting scene--here broken into a night arrival, followed by a speeded-up and relatively chaste morning-after. Romeo is soaked with rain and also bleeding as he arrives at Juliet's window; the two start undressing one another, keeping Juliet's back to the camera; the same bare back is featured in the above-the-bed sunrise shot, a virtual replica of Zeffirelli's but with Romeo on his back and covered to the waist. You can see a sliver--almost nothing--of Juliet's left breast from this angle. Romeo slides out of bed, revealing nothing, and coyly pulls on his boxers under a corner of sheet. He gets his shirt halfway on and interrupts himself--like Zeffirelli's Romeo--for more cuddling at 'let me be taken'; however, his shirt stays more or less in place as he dives under the sheets for some adorable, if not highly erotic, horse-play. Next the camera takes us under the sheets with a shot of Romeo from below--the tent of linen behind his head creating a kind of halo effect--then, a reverse-shot of Juliet's face, smiling, framed by the pillow. In semiotic terms, these shots go farther than Zeffirelli in opening up the diegetic space of Shakespeare's offstage bedroom; rather than peering up at a balcony or even down at a couple in bed, here the viewer is placed in the bed, sharing the intimacy of this moment (significantly, this shot/reverse-shot features in the 'flash-backs' after the dual suicide). The camera then exits the bed and shows the lovers upright and cocooned in the sheets. Again, the moment is both tender and curiously innocent; as in the 'tent' shot of Romeo, cloth creates intimacy. But it is brief; the nurse interrupts. Romeo cutely struggles into his pants, and an instantly robed Juliet rushes him out of the window. Despite the borrowings from Zeffirelli, the scene has its own flavour: more sweet than sexy and considerably less solemn. |
Othello
Parker's Othello is deservedly advertised as an 'erotic thriller'. Again, though, the materials of which Parker composed this eroticism differ strikingly from Zeffirelli's. This movie is the only one in our list which includes simulated intercourse--though these instances actually involve no nudity, just the suggestion of minimally parted clothing. During the wedding-night sequence, an anonymous pair copulate in a cart under which Iago and Roderigo sit, discussing Desdemona's sexual habits; the rhythmic creaking and grunting appropriately punctuate the conversation, as does Iago's rude lunge (for emphasis, I presume) at Roderigo's crotch. Later, Iago mounts Emilia--in reward for her obtaining the handkerchief--and addresses the camera about 'trifles light as air' as he begins the sex act. |
More intriguing than these clothed but sordid moments, however, is the love-scene between Desdemona and Othello, involving a ritualized undressing to the vaguely African-sounding music of the festivities continuing outside the bridal chamber. The camera lingers on Othello's naked chest and then moves to a close-up of his belt as he undoes his buckle; cut to Desdemona, backing off timidly and then beginning to undo the laces of her dress from behind (and yes, she wears a corset). Another cut, and we see her from far across the room, quickly dropping her dress and diving behind the sheer curtains of the bed. The full-frontal shot lasts a fraction of a second, and hereafter she is obscured--to great effect--by the gossamer curtains, as she crawls provocatively across the bed. The inside-the-bed sequence involves little sustained nudity--just a bit of breast in profile--but manages to signify all the stages of coitus by way of clever attention to Desdemona's hands and feet. We see her foot climb up the back of Othello's leg and curl around his thigh; from the angle, one can tell (at least I could when I pressed 'pause' on my VCR) that she is positioned for sexual intromission. A close-up of her hand clutching the sheets suggests her climax; as his hand closes over hers, the act is complete. |
The wedding night sequence sets the stage for the movie's most creative bit of eroticism: Othello's jealous fantasies of Desdemona and Cassio, in the nuptial bed. The first of these (which follows, appropriately, the aforementioned bedroom scene with Iago and Emilia) appears to be a nightmare, the second Othello's vision during the 'trance'. Both make effective use of the curtains enclosing the bed. In the dream, Othello approaches the bed bare-chested or perhaps nude, and sees, through the curtains, the alleged lovers entangled in sex-play; Desdemona is on top, half-draped in a red sheet; she giggles and throws a mocking look over her shoulder. The wedding-night hand-shot is then repeated, with Cassio's (white) hand enclosing Desdemona's. Othello wakes in a sweat. The second sequence is the sexiest in the film. There is a pillow-shot of Cassio, a piece of Desdemona's shoulder or head in the corner of the frame; she moves down, then up, while Cassio makes orgasmic faces. We cut back to Othello as his fit comes on; cut to Desdemona's eyes, smiling; her thigh hooked over Cassio's, his hand on her thigh; a French kiss; her thigh and his hand again; back again to Othello; then a rapid sequence amounting to a pornographic blur, which can only be detailed and analysed on a VCR with the help of 'pause' and 'rewind'. The segment is brilliant in that it technically contains nothing obscene and yet conveys, through increasing tempo (underscored by the soundtrack), some of the steamiest sex an 'R' rating can afford. Her thigh, draped over his waist or hip; her mouth as she bites her lower lip; their hands overlapped; a hand on skin. As the tempo increases once more, we are shown her open mouth, and a sequence of hand-on-skin shots too fast to follow (even with 'pause'); the body-parts at this point are ambiguous and very erogenous-seeming (more thigh, definitely, and maybe a belly-button), plus open mouths and a tongue against skin. The film cuts back to Othello, and returns to the bed for a final shot of Desdemona's look over her shoulder. |
There is a distinct contrast, thus, between Parker's rendering of Shakespeare's offstage bedroom and the precedent set by Zeffirelli. The latter made use of a few lengthy looks at Leonard Whiting's buttocks from across a softy lit bedroom; this eroticism is built, in a sense, out of distance, both temporal and spatial. (There is, of course, the blink-and-you-miss-it shot of Hussey's breasts, but the film invests far more in male nudity than female.) By contrast to Zeffirelli's slow-paced eroticism and his reliance on panning and perspective, Parker makes use of speed and rhythm, and favours close-ups which fill the screen with skin. In respect to these differences, it appears as though Zeffirelli's eroticism, not surprisingly, is more 'classic', that is, closer to the humanist aesthetic tradition with its ideals about nature and beauty--a fitting mode in which to present Shakespeare's young idealists. Parker, on the other hand, employs certain devices which happen to be central to pornography: the close-up, the pastiche of body-parts, repetition and over-saturation of erotic reference. Yet his method, too, seems suited to the text, with its focus on the obscene. |
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