According to PM Carpenter, The Literary Apocalypse Has Arrived. One of the great pleasures of reading him is experiencing his references — both to literature and history. But he’s also something of a curmudgeon. In this case, he is upset at the news that the Oregon Shakespeare Festival (OSF) has announced that “it will commission 36 playwrights to translate all of Shakespeare’s plays into modern English.” Oh, the horror!

Let’s be clear what’s happening here. Even among the vast majority of people who like Shakespeare, appreciation is pretty thin. In fact, at this point in time, it is impossible for someone to just see one of his plays performed and appreciate much more than the basic story line. True: good productions can hammer home the meaning. But appreciation of the words — the puns and meaning — is missing. People don’t get it.

What’s more: the words that Shakespeare wrote didn’t sound at all the way they did in the early 17th century. If Shakespeare were performed today the way he was performed then, modern audiences wouldn’t even be able to make out words. It would be like listening to someone tell a story in Gaelic. Yet there is no outrage about this. Why? Because it has slipped away, inch by inch — the “translation” has occurred so as to be invisible. But does that make it any less important? I certainly don’t think so.

Thus, I don’t see the big deal of translating the plays. I also don’t think it is worth doing except for a handful of plays. The very idea that everything Shakespeare wrote has literary merit is repugnant to me. And I’m not just talking about lesser known monstrosities like Cymbeline. I’m none too fond of Hamlet. It’s a fascinating play, but one that is fatally flawed. The reason it continues to be performed says far more about the needs of actors and directors than the wishes of audiences.

The good thing about these translations is that they will lay bare the uncomfortable truth that many of The Bard’s plays are really not that good. It really isn’t because the language is so difficult that people don’t much care for The Winter’s Tale. At the same time, it will highlight things that work really well like Macbeth and A Midsummer Night’s Dream — interestingly, two plays that work surprisingly well with the old words.

The bad thing about these translations is that they are wasting resources that could be better spent elsewhere. Does anyone who might happen to be at the OSF really need a new way to enjoy Romeo and Juliet? That’s especially true when there are really interesting plays in other languages that have never been translated. Lope de Vega wrote literally hundreds of plays. Yet to my knowledge, only one of them has been translated into English, Fuente Ovejuna. Is Lope as good a playwright as Shakespeare? I can only tell you this: not one in a thousand people at the OSF is in a position to say. Similarly, I only know of one of Cervantes’ Ocho Comedias y Ocho Entremeses to have been translated, The Cave of Salamanca. Oh, how American theater could use some time away from the British Isles!

I also question just how successful these translations will be. If the translators approach the plays as the imperfect works they are, it might be fine. But if they approach them as ancient relics that must be studiously honored, it’s going to be a catastrophe. As it is, what’s going to be done? So much of Shakespeare involves saying the same thing over and over again. In the opening of Richard III, Shakespeare uses 18 lines to say, “We were at war and now we are at leisure.” He uses another 14 lines to say, “But I’m angry about this because I’m deformed and no one loves me.” Don’t get me wrong: I like it. But it’s not just the worlds that out of date: it’s the whole approach to drama.

The idea is not a bad one. It doesn’t mean that after the translations are complete, the original versions will be burned. And it doesn’t mean that people will stop performing the old plays. It’s just another way for people to enjoy the plays. That ought to be welcome to Shakespeare lovers. As for me, I think we have far too much Shakespeare in our lives. His plays push many repellent ideas — not least of which the idea of nobility being a question of breeding. But if you are one to say that all the world can be found in the plays of The Bard, then the more the merrier, right?

Image taken from: “Antigonus chased by a bear” by Thomas Bragg (printmaker) – Folger Shakespeare Library Digital Image Collection. Licensed under CC BY-SA 4.0 via Commons.

If there is a single image that sums up the dot-com bubble of the late 1990s, it is the Pets.com sock puppet. The company hired the advertising agency that had recently had great success with the Taco Bell chihuahua. So they came back with the little dog puppet with a microphone. The ad campaign was hugely successful in terms of generating attention for the company. But in the end, it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t a stupid idea, but the company ran through a ridiculous amount of money. They even had a float made of the puppet for the 1999 Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade — certainly a waste of money. A sock puppet can only do so much.

The puppet was performed by comedian Michael Ian Black. He’s a funny guy. The commercials work really well. But he’s a terrible puppeteer. The thing you notice with bad puppeteers is that they don’t even try. There is no effort made to match the sound. The mouth opens and closes at whatever speed while the puppeteer talks, and doesn’t when he isn’t talking. Still, in this case, it is clearly meant to be a hand puppet as they constantly show the arm and the wristwatch. And part of the charm is just how badly it is all done.

After Pets.com was liquidated, the sock puppet was sold to Bar None — the car loan company. They changed him. He was no longer a simple sock puppet. This was probably because they got rid of Black. I must admit to preferring his voice. But whoever they got is an actual puppeteer. A great puppeteer can work with anything. But just check out the great moves done with the puppet’s lips. And, of course, his snout stays level and his jaw moves down like an actual dog (or any other animal that has a jaw).

I have a general theory that pretty much everything is better with puppets. They add the cartoon universe to real life. Like in the Bar None ad, it would be really difficult to have an actual human do that without making the audience hate him. But he’s a puppet, so somehow it’s okay.

Image from Wikipedia where who I’m supposed to acknowledg is less than clear.

When I was a kid, there was a lot of crap on television. But at least it was very clearly entertainment. Effort was put in by writers and actors. Stories with actual plots were told. Now, of course, we live in the age of the reality show. And it has poisoned all of entertainment. In the 1950s, there were prime time game shows. But that went away for decades as people came to expect more. And then came these new game shows called “reality shows,” and now much of what is on at night is game shows — albeit, often game shows with “stars.”

The biggest thing about this trend is that producers have found that there really is no need to tell a compelling story. With proper editing and incidental music, they can make nothing appear to be something. I saw a great example of this last night. It wasn’t a reality show, but a documentary series on The History Channel, Outlaw Chronicles: Hells Angels. I guess it is mostly just interviews with this guy, George Christie Jr, who used to be in the Hells Angels. I really don’t know, nor do I care. As with most things on History, I assume it is all fake anyway. As such, you would think it would be more interesting.

The narrator explained that the Hells Angels were in a battle with some other gang, and so they were planting bombs. As far as I can tell, we’re talking pipe bombs here — dangerous, but not that dangerous, and hardly exotic. Christie and a companion were sent in to pick up a bomb that didn’t detonate — a dud. They were lowering it off a rooftop, but a wind came up and the bomb started hitting against the side of the building.

It was a very tense situation. Did the bomb explode?! No. The wind died down and they got it to the ground safely. This may have had something to do with the fact that the bomb was not functional. But this exciting story is not over — not by a long shot! They put the bomb in the car. But they didn’t do the sensible thing and put it in the trunk. Why, oh why, would they be so foolish?! Could it be that they weren’t actually worried at all and that Christie is just making a big deal out of it now for the home viewer?

Anyway, they put the bomb in the back seat. So they were driving to the disposal site. But apparently, the road they were driving on was not perfect. They hit a pothole, which shook the car. And the bomb… did not go off. But then Christie and his companion started to laugh. They must have laughed for ten minutes. According to him, it was because of the tension. I’m figuring it was because they were both wasted from all the speed and alcohol they were on.

But what’s most amazing is what happened next: nothing. That was the end of the story. Here’s a quick recap of the story: these two guys dispose of an nonfunctional bomb and nothing went wrong. It’s kind of like someone telling you the story, “I was thinking of flying from New Jersey to San Francisco on 9/11 — I could have been on Flight 93!” You could have been. But you weren’t. I would certainly accept such nonsense in a private conversation, but how is that kind of thing considered good television?

I don’t think that the problem is George Christie who is a good raconteur and doubtless has been through some interesting things. But the producers have to fill up time. Soon they will have him down to relating traffic accidents he saw while driving down the freeway. It’s all about cost. And the sad thing is that our civilization can’t see that there is nothing interesting on display. It is “true” and therefore not boring.

After such a long time trying, I finally got around to seeing Minions. Of course, by that time, I had heard a lot of whispering that it wasn’t that great. And it wasn’t. That’s not to say that it wasn’t quite enjoyable. It just wasn’t up to the two Despicable Me films. It was written by Brian Lynch, who is basically a comic book writer. His main screen credit before was another film I wanted to love but which somehow missed, Puss in Boots. But let’s make no mistake here: the main problem is the script.

Minions is at times very funny. And as an adorer of these little yellow creatures, I was constantly entertained. But there was not enough of a plot to hang the movie on. The second act is incredibly episodic. Basically, the Minions find themselves living in the arctic because they have a very bad habit of destroying the evil people they work for. But their lives lack meaning, so Kevin, Stuart, and Bob set out in search of a new “boss.” That’s a fine setup. What’s more, given that it takes place in 1968, it sets up the introduction of the young Gru.

But the plot lacks much in the way of motivation, even with that very clear setup. I don’t especially like to second guess writers, but this one is prime for what I consider a modern 5-act structure: (1) the Minions set out on their journey; (2) they overcome many obstacles; (3) they arrive in civilization; (4) they find a new boss and things go terribly wrong; (5) it gets resolved. Now that is actually an outline of the film. But the structure isn’t there. Almost the entire film stays in act 4. That would have been fine, but it would have required a different structure — even a different story.

It would have required something else too: a better villain. Scarlet Overkill is one of the most boring villains ever. Even her big introduction was lame. I get that it — like the Despicable Me films — was making fun of corporate culture. And certainly business people make a big deal of the most banal celebrities. But that doesn’t work in a film. And it certainly doesn’t work here where we are expected to spend about an hour with this tedious character. Clearly, Lynch understood this because he created Herb Overkill — Scarlet’s husband and Q. Now he was interesting and well worth saving for later films.

In addition, Scarlet Overkill who is so furocious at the beginning turns out not to be much of a super-villain as she fights with the Minions. And in the end, little boy Gru seems to be a lot more together than he is four decades later. Mostly, it is all a mess. I’ll admit: a very creative mess, but a mess nonetheless. There is another big problem that was not Lynch’s fault. Scarlet Overkill was almost indistinguishable from Lucy Wilde in Despicable Me 2. And Herb Overkill was just a slight variation on Vector in Despicable Me.

As to the question of whether I will buy Minions when it comes out on DVD… Are you kidding?! Of course I will. They’re adorable! Not as adorable as Agnes, but very adorable nonetheless.