The other night, we began the process of blocking the Battle of Agincourt (inside, because of the rain). There are no less than 19 combatants involved in the fight. “Can we cram within this wooden ‘O’”, indeed. This is certainly the most ambitious combat scene I’ve been involved in at S&C and if everything comes out right, it should be awesome. If things go wrong, we’ll probably have a few people who can’t count to 20 on their digits anymore.
Our fights can be pretty cool and I’ve been in a few great ones. I got to be Edgar in the climactic broadsword swordfight of Lear for my second year in the company, and I fenced as Laertes in Hamlet two years ago. One of our long-term (as in 28 years) company members is the fight coordinator and he does a great job of creating exciting but manageable fights. He’s also a big fan of wrestling, comic books and video games so he definitely gets a few “holy crap” moments in there. The big challenge this year is that of management. During each of the two sections of the Agincourt battle, there will be 4-5 separate fights happening all over the stage, and without a careful eye towards spacing and awareness, we could end up with a few missing eyes and stabbed backs. Maybe we should be doing Greek tragedy?
I saw “300” the other day. It was good, in a essentially mindless and flashy way, but the story struck me as being nearly the anti-thesis of Henry V. Both works feature a noble king and his small band of warriors facing overconfidence in overwhelming odds, and both feature the full or partial defeat of those odds through shrewd utilization of the “disciplines of war”. But the similarities end there. Henry features a war of aggression (how ever well justified it may debatably be) while 300 is about fighting against a foreign invader. Henry ends well (ostensibly) while 300 ends in tragedy, at least for the short term (as our non-Persian asses know, the “good guys” win the subsequent battles and the war). Trying to “analyze” Frank Miller’s “commentary” on ancient warfare and defending one’s beliefs to the death would be like exegizing an episode of Sesame Street, but I have to wonder about similarities in Henry and Xerxex’s characters. Apart from the 8 ft. tall, androgynous Coppertan model with a full body-piercing punch-card aspects, that is.
Our fights can be pretty cool and I’ve been in a few great ones. I got to be Edgar in the climactic broadsword swordfight of Lear for my second year in the company, and I fenced as Laertes in Hamlet two years ago. One of our long-term (as in 28 years) company members is the fight coordinator and he does a great job of creating exciting but manageable fights. He’s also a big fan of wrestling, comic books and video games so he definitely gets a few “holy crap” moments in there. The big challenge this year is that of management. During each of the two sections of the Agincourt battle, there will be 4-5 separate fights happening all over the stage, and without a careful eye towards spacing and awareness, we could end up with a few missing eyes and stabbed backs. Maybe we should be doing Greek tragedy?
I saw “300” the other day. It was good, in a essentially mindless and flashy way, but the story struck me as being nearly the anti-thesis of Henry V. Both works feature a noble king and his small band of warriors facing overconfidence in overwhelming odds, and both feature the full or partial defeat of those odds through shrewd utilization of the “disciplines of war”. But the similarities end there. Henry features a war of aggression (how ever well justified it may debatably be) while 300 is about fighting against a foreign invader. Henry ends well (ostensibly) while 300 ends in tragedy, at least for the short term (as our non-Persian asses know, the “good guys” win the subsequent battles and the war). Trying to “analyze” Frank Miller’s “commentary” on ancient warfare and defending one’s beliefs to the death would be like exegizing an episode of Sesame Street, but I have to wonder about similarities in Henry and Xerxex’s characters. Apart from the 8 ft. tall, androgynous Coppertan model with a full body-piercing punch-card aspects, that is.
"Tonight...we dine...at SPAGOS!"
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