Sir Thomas More

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By Anthony Munday and Henry Chettle; with additions and revisions by Henry Chettle, Thomas Dekker, Thomas Heywood, and William Shakespeare; coordinated by ‘Hand C’. First published in Britain in 1844 by Alexander Dyce. Review copy from ‘The Arden Shakespeare: Third Series’, edited by John Jowett.

As you can see from the above, this is not exactly a play by William Shakespeare. Its inclusion in the Arden Shakespeare series will no doubt be somewhat controversial, although I hope not as much as Double Falsehood was. It was never published in Britain around the time it was written, and most likely was never performed either, being censored to death until it was finally abandoned as unworkable. The sole text comes from a manuscript that is slowly falling apart, although the British Library is doing their best to halt that. And honestly, it’s a very awkward play to perform, never quite deciding if it’s a history or a tragedy, and never quite deciding how it feels about its leading man.

One thing that the majority of Shakespeare scholars agree on in modern times is that Shakespeare DID write one of the revisions of the original text that are attached to the manuscript. A good deal of Scene 6 is in his handwriting, and there are some other bits written by the anonymous ‘Hand C’ who put it all together that might also be his work. Of course, that still leaves a great deal of the play – the majority of it, in fact. And most of the play is thought to have been written by Anthony Munday, who is… almost as interesting as Shakespeare himself. I’ll leave it to curious people to buy the text I’m reviewing to find out more, but I’ll note that one of the supposed main texts that Sir Thomas More was taken from would appear to be a manuscript stolen from More’s descendants by Munday in an anti-Catholic raid. That’s a lot more hardcore than cribbing from Boccaccio.

There’s a lot of civil unrest in this play – indeed, that’s probably one of the main reasons that it was never performed. The city is seen to be on the verge of riot, with foreigners implied to be the general cause. The play sides with the Londoners against the foreign rabble a bit too much for modern liking, and indeed the censor who went through the manuscript with his metaphorical red pen demand they be made ‘Lombards’ to make everything a bit less inciting. The main issue with the play, though, is that it dances around the King. King Henry VIII is not in it, and More is asked to sign ‘certain articles’ which he refuses to do, and is then executed for. These are, of course, the papers that acknowledge Anne Boleyn as the new Queen, but the play never outright states this. It’s a bit of a political gaping hole that begs to be filled in (and indeed some modern productions have done so).

You don’t see many productions of Sir Thomas More these days. Partly due to the fact that 75% of all audience members will think they’re seeing A Man For All Seasons; partly due to the canonicity problem (you never want to see Shakespeare scholars pelting your actors with fruit); but mostly due to a very familiar Shakespearean quality; ambiguity. More is a very hard role to grab a hold of. If you play him too light he comes across as heartless, especially in the later scenes with his wife. Too serious and the whole play gets unbalanced. It’s meant to be more of a history than a tragedy, but the tragedy is never far away, what with the play almost divided into two halves, each ending with an execution.

Is it Shakespeare? Well, that depends how much Shakespeare you want. We’ve already allowed co-written plays such as Pericles, Henry VIII and Two Noble Kinsmen. But this isn’t just something that was co-written. It’s something that was written entirely by other people and then revised by a committee of writers, one of whom was Shakespeare. I’m not sure I’d feel comfortable performing it as a piece of Shakespeare, but I think I’m OK with reading about it, even if it’s such a mess that it’s far more fascinating to read about its creation than to read the play itself. Something which, come to think of it, is very Shakespearean.

Bunny Drop Volume 3

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By Yumi Unita. Released in Japan as “Usagi Drop” by Shodensha, serialization ongoing in the magazine Feel Young. Released in North America by Yen Press.

We’re up to Volume 3, and I continue to be impressed with how the author balances the various aspects of Daikichi’s life. Most of it revolves around Rin, as you would imagine, but we also continue to see him at work, where he deals with an over-amorous coworker, to school, where he struggles far less, mostly as Rin turns out to be a fantastic kid. We also return to Rin’s birth mother, Masako, and though she’s still not very sympathetic, we do at least see a bit of her determination in becoming a mangaka.

Bunny Drop runs in a magazine for young women, Feel Young, and many of the issues are ones that the readers are either dealing with right now or can expect to deal with once they marry. It’s emphasized over and over how many things you have to think of as a parent, things that Daikichi tries to keep up with. Talking with the other fathers at the office, he realizes that he and Rin don’t have health insurance, and that’s something else he has to add on to his list of things to do. We also see him looking back at his own childhood, and realizing that a lot of things that happened as a kid make more sense to him looking back as an adult.

Romance is still not the series’ emphasis. Sure, Kouki’s mom is cute, with that combination of attractive and exhausted that always brings the guys running (I’m not sure if she has bedroom eyes or if she’s simply flat-out tired all the time – I suspect both), but any interaction revolves around the children, as you would expect. In fact, Daikichi actually uses Rin as a ‘weapon’ to get rid of his clingy female colleague, who spots a single guy that she can use to work her way up the corporate ladder and tries asking him out. The whole thing makes Daikichi uncomfortable, so he mentions Rin, and WHOOOSH, she’s gone. This depresses him, as he notes he’d likely get the same reaction if it was someone he actually cared about.

Speaking of Kouki, I really sympathized with him in the chapter that shows him and Rin at school. Rin’s teacher is the sort of ‘tries his best and good at heart’ sort, but Kouki gets the type I used to have as a child, who are very much of the ‘why are you causing problems for everyone’ school of teaching. It can be very hard when a child is pigeonholed, and Kouki, who is naturally rambunctious and loud, is already being thought of as a troublemaker. And once again, it’s Rin who is able to bring out the best in him, smacking him down so easily that everyone stares at her, including Kouki’s teacher, in awe. Part of it is meant, naturally, so show Kouki has a bit of a childhood crush, but I think it’s also a small example of how children’s learning experiences can be very different depending on how they’re taught.

This is a very slice-of-life series, with the pacing remaining at a steady walk, and with no hideous or unforeseen events happening. At one point we think Rin and Kouki may be in trouble, but it turns out the creepy guy greeting them is merely their next-door neighbor (and I note they are praised there for doing the right thing, even if he wasn’t a threat, which is smart.) There isn’t quite as much heartwarming as the first two volumes, but it’s settled into a general sweetness all around that is impossible to resist. And if Daikichi and Rin seem a little idealized, well, no one ever said stories just have to be about people having horrible things happen to them.

Rin-Ne Volume 5

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By Rumiko Takahashi. Released in Japan by Shogakukan, serialization ongoing in the magazine Shonen Sunday. Released in North America by Viz.

After the heavy plot arcs of the last volume, this one is back to more ghost-of-the-week type stories. Sadly, that means there’s far less to talk about. So let me ponder about Sakura again.

Last review I noted that I was wondering if Sakura’s complete passivity was a plot point rather than simply Takahashi rebelling against her stereotype. This volume makes it perfectly clear that this is the case, as situations are designed to get Sakura to react in the extreme, but she simply doesn’t. A lot of it is straight out of the pages of Romantic Comedy 101 – Rinne is discussing a clingy jealous girl and notes he doesn’t dislike her, and Sakura only hears the last part; not to mention said girl telling Sakura to stop getting so close to Rinne. Throughout it all, Sakura just sort of stands there, though at one point she clearly thinks to herself that she doesn’t want to lose Rinne, but is at a loss to explain why.

Clearly something happened to Sakura that’s left her like this, and I suspect in the future it won’t be a good thing. In the present, though, it means that almost all the comedic moments go to the ancillary characters as always. Ageha, introduced last volume, is now following Rinne around the real world, determined to get his attention, and she’s an excellent edition to the cast, being someone who will overreact when needed. Most of the comedy here, though, goes to the ghosts and/or problems of the day.

After wrapping up the lost sister plot from last volume (in an incredibly unsurprising plot twist), and seeing what a naive idiot Ageha can be, we get back to school, and back to ghosts with problems. In a nice switch, though, the first person with a problem is actually Rinne, who’s been given a bento by Ageha that’s actually sealing an evil wish-granting spirit. Of course, since it’s sealed in a bento, it’s become a giant octopus-shaped hot dog evil spirit. This is one of the funniest sight gags of the book, and reminds you how good Takahashi is at taking a situation and stepping up its lunacy.

Other situations here involve a mysterious protector of a library aisle and its master who’s rewriting her own memories; a tale of two guilty track stars and the smoldering attraction between them (well, OK, not really, but come on, the ho yay in these chapters was SO THERE); and a cedar tree that’s haunted by the spirit of a boy who turns out to be familiar to Sakura. The last chapter was the most interesting to me, if only as it showed that Sakura was still pretty nice (and passive) even as a little girl.

I still enjoy Rin-Ne for its inherent Takahashiness, but once again the main issue with it is her two leads. I wish that she’d step up her game and either have Rinne realize to himself that he loves Sakura, or have her stunted emotions become more of a plot point. But until then, this still appears to be a title where Takahashi can coast along, exhausted after 56 volumes of Inu-Yasha and wanting to relax and draw random ghost stuff. Which is nice, but not fantastic.