When Sparks met the Bard - Sparks and Shakespeare
What a
spectacular collaboration this would have been!
In the final heart-rending scene
of Annette, Henry’s words in the song ‘Sympathy for the Abyss’
(‘imagination’s strong/ But reason’s song is faint and shrill’) echo concisely the
sentiment of Othello’s lament in the last scene of Shakespeare’s tragedy, thus aligning
him with the jealous wife-murderer whose guilt destroys him. So…. can Henry
McHenry be seen as an Othello for our times?
Sparks have previously directly
referenced Shakespeare and his plays in a handful of songs. In ’Let’s Go Surfing’ (from Gratuitous Sax
and Senseless Violins, 1994), Shakespeare is namechecked directly, but the reference
seems to be pejorative. In this fantasy of freedom from the dismal surroundings
of a room ‘only Dickens could love’ in a cold, wet ‘land-locked town’, the
narrator longs to go surfing in the sun. This may have been inspired by Ron and
Russell’s time living in London in the 1970s, while surfing suggests freedom, hope
and dreams (‘far from everything, far from misanthropes’). The dream of walking
on white sand includes an encounter with ‘people called Kelley and Joe’, who
are referred to as ‘too Shakespearian, too Wagnerian’ too impossible’, and ‘who
have nothing in common with anyone we know’. Is the inference that they are too
high brow, on a different cultural, intellectual level to the narrator’s
acquaintances, and thus a comment on European social and intellectual
snobbery? But wait: since these passing
characters are encountered on the sand, are they perhaps stereotyped Hollywood folk,
perceived as over-dramatic and flamboyant?
Or are they the miserable and pessimistic misanthropes? Certainly, they
are opposed to the carefree joy of catching the perfect wave in an ideal world
where ‘somewhere there are dreams, somewhere there is hope’.
Of
course, Sparks had also already referenced a specific Shakespeare play: in
‘Here in Heaven’ from the 1974 Kimono My House album, an unnamed young
man bemoans that he kept his side of a suicide pact, while his love, Juliet,
didn’t. Although life in heaven is pleasant, the young man dwells on the
question of whether Juliet thinks of him and in what way: ‘Do I qualify as dear
departed, or am I that sucker in the sky?’ He suspects a cynical manipulation on
her part: ‘Now I know why you let me the lead’. As in a number of Sparks’
songs, the woman is seen as unpredictable and unfathomable, and possibly unkind
and controlling. (She probably didn’t turn up at the Equator either.) Or, did she
just have second thoughts as he plunged into the sea, a ‘fall guy’ in more ways
than one? He concedes that he had belated second thoughts too, and now, in heaven,
it is hell for him knowing that her health ‘will keep her out of here for many,
many years’. Shakespeare’s version of the lovers’ deaths in Romeo and Juliet
(in which Juliet’s faked death is tragically misunderstood by Romeo and the
faithful lovers are united in death) becomes here a sad and cynical tale of soured
romance, self-interest and betrayal.
Another of Shakespeare’s
tragedies had featured even more overtly in a song (‘Othello’) written for Christi
Haydon in 1992, but not released until 2019, in the extras section of the new edition
of Gratuitous Sax and Senseless Violins. It originally featured on a demo
tape for an E.P., which didn’t see the light of day. This song has a
completely different perspective from ‘Here in Heaven’. The singer is an
uncomprehending Desdemona, who wonders what is wrong with her soldier husband –
why is Othello ‘cold, dark, and strange tonight’? Is it the wine, the heat? Or
something Iago said? It captures the perplexity of Desdemona, unaware that she
is to become the victim of Othello’s murderous sexual jealousy and Iago’s
cunning, although she suspects his involvement. To Othello’s accusation of
adultery,’ she responds: ‘I say you’re mad’. She too yearns for a place far
away where dreams can come true and jealousy doesn’t exist. This moving song,
with its close references to Shakespeare’s play, is unusual in the Sparks’
catalogue as it specifically features a female narrator. Uneasy relationships are frequent in Sparks’
songs, but seldom are they seen from an
overtly female perspective.
‘Life with the Macbeths’ from Hippopotamus (2017),
in which Sparks create a brilliant analogy between Shakespeare’s blood-soaked
tragedy and a contemporary television soap opera, is perhaps the closest one
could get to a kind of collaboration! I
would like to think that the idea for this song was prompted by the 400th
anniversary of Shakespeare’s death in 2016, celebrated in the media worldwide. An
audience’s delight in bloodshed, toxic relationships, deadly ambition and evil appears
to be universal: the more horrific the plot, the more the ratings soar. That
high culture and low culture may have the same ingredients is a provocative comment
on human nature, and on culture itself (although, Shakespeare, arguably, has a
better script!). In this T.V. show, even the actors are not impressed, (they ‘roll
their eyes’), but it is a huge success, so why should they care. Here, the capricious
and controlling woman is taken to the extreme, as the ‘lady’ urges on her
husband to ‘depths unseen’. In a kind of
promotional trailer (‘same station, same time, new feuds’) we are promised
cliff-hangers, but only one series, suggesting that nobody is left standing at
the end. As in Shakespeare’s time, the critics are said to be split in
their reactions (‘some not that into murder’). But is there actually some
‘deeper meaning’ beneath the gore? Perhaps
it is that the evil wife ‘prods her husband /and then regrets what’s coming’. The
soaring soprano voice of Rebecca Sjowall complements Russell’s voice
exquisitely, the beauty of the sound contrasting with the commercialised horror
of the narrative. In a way, the unexpected operatic element bridges the
gap between the two cultural levels, while drawing attention to it. With
his background in popular theatre, Shakespeare would no doubt have thoroughly
approved of this song! We should not forget, also, that one of the intruders in
the pool in the title song, ‘Hippopotamus’, is none other than the Roman
general, Titus Andronicus, Shakespearian tragic hero and, according to Sparks
an excellent swimmer, wearing a snorkel!
And so to Annette (2021). Comparison of many aspects with Othello
is tempting, even if this was not necessarily a deliberate aim on Sparks’ part.
Not unlike Othello, Henry McHenry is a hot-tempered jealous husband, whose
uncontrolled emotion leads to murder. Henry and Anne’s intense relationship,
like that of Othello and Desdemona, is unusual: they seem, even to themselves,
a mismatched couple (’we’re scoffing at logic’). Just as Othello is a
successful and admired soldier, Henry is famous, at first, as a comedian, and
both are easily a prey to self-doubt on an emotional level. Henry’s jealousy of
Anne is, however, more complex, notably a strong professional jealousy, as
befits the modern age, and he has (allegedly) a past history of violence
against women. Like Othello, though, Henry
abandons coherent language and reason as jealousy and rage consume him and lead
to chaos, murder and guilt. His audience turns against his increasingly bizarre
and offensive stage act. Anne, loved and admired by her public, also can not
understand what troubles her husband, and ultimately becomes a victim of his toxic
male self-obsession and jealous rage. She, however, is very different from
Desdemona, and her death during the storm does not end her role in the plot, as
she vows revenge through the voice of her daughter baby Annette. (Interestingly, Shakespeare’s play also
features a storm at sea scene, although his Desdemona survives.) Both play and
movie also feature an ‘alternative’ lover: while in Othello, the young Cassio
loves Desdemona but the relationship remains chaste, the Accompanist/Conductor in
Annette, who adores Anne, had a brief affair with her prior to her meeting
Henry. It is suggested that he may even be the father of baby Annette. Like
Cassio, he too attracts the jealous wrath of Henry and becomes his next victim.
At the end of the movie, Henry, having looked into the abyss of unspeakable
emotions and acts, is consumed by guilt, but ends up in jail alone rather than
killing himself like Othello. The final scene in which a real-life Annette
chides her father and tells him that he has no-one now to love, reflects
chillingly his lasting punishment. There are, of course, huge differences
between Annette and Othello, notably the absence of a wicked Iago
figure to play on Henry’s insecurities (although perhaps the press and public
fill this role?), and, in Annette, the unexpected horror of both parents
exploiting their child for their own ends, which creates uneasy ambiguities for
the viewer. The role of baby Annette herself is obviously at the centre of the
movie’s story and adds to the psychological depth and moving nature of the
plot.
This may be striving too hard for
comparison, but the echoing of Othello’s words in ‘Sympathy for the Abyss’,
apparently written in response to Leos Carax’s request for a song to tie up the
themes of the movie, succeeds powerfully in pointing us back to contemplate the
universal complexities of human nature and relationships, and the fragile foundations
on which love may rest. Just as Ron used the words of Socrates (‘An unexamined
life is not worth living’) at the end of The Seduction of Ingmar Bergman,
to underscore the resolving of Bergman’s temptation, the echo of Othello’s belated
and fruitless self-realisation in a present day setting firmly establishes the
timeless nature of these themes.
These are just my personal
thoughts, prompted by that one phrase in Annette: there may well be
other explicit or opaque links with Shakespeare’s plays that I have yet to
uncover, so ideas would be most welcome!
Penny Brown
December 2021
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