“The Spanish Tragedy” reminds me of “Hamlet” with the ghost and theme of war and revenge. It is interesting to note that there is a considerable amount of Greek Mythology in the play where Andrea faces the three judges and is then transferred to Pluto where his wife takes over as judge.

What goes around comes around. I found it pretty funny where Villuppo tries to frame Alexandro for shooting Balthazar in the back. But things turn around and Villuppo gets killed for lying.

The argument between Horatio and Lorenzo was pretty interesting. Even though they are on the same side, they are fighting on who should get credit for the capture of Balthazar. It’s no surprise that Hieronimo, father of Horatio, takes Horatio’s side. After all, he is family.

The masque with the three knights and three kings seem pretty symbolic. It might be wise to hold on that thought later. For some reason, that scene sticks out in my head.

The play keeps me in anticipation. The spirit of revenge keeps telling Andrea that he will see Balthazar killed but he does not see this. It seems Balthazar is doing pretty well. Things might be going well for him now and I cannot wait to see his downfall.

Take notice of how love can drive people crazy. Love is usually associated with peace and care but we see the totally opposite. Again, it is so similar to “Hamlet.” Look at one of the characters. His name is Horatio. There’s a character by that name in “Hamlet.”

It’s also along the lines of “Othello.” I saw a film based on Othello. It was with that guy from “8 mile”. The film somewhat reminds me of the play with the betrayal and sad love stories.

I hope it is not too late to post this…

I did not like this play at all, Revenge Tragedy say you?!  Where are all of the Revenger’s?  Where is the Betrayal?? The Blood??? Annabella and Giovanni had absolutley no revengle plot, and were totally lovey dovey for the entire play.  I did like the part where Giovanni literally had Annabella’s heart, on a dagger though, but had her heart nonetheless, it was very Vindice of him.   The one man who had is Revenge was bad boy Vasquez, and even he lacked the spark to create the bloodbath I was waiting for when this play came to a close.  On another note, I would never call Annabella a whore, maybe a coward but not a whore.  She married Soranzo at the drop of a dime to save her in the after life, which leaves me asking, what happened to all that ‘If I cannot love you, kill me brother stuff” she said earlier to dear Giovanni.

While I was reading ‘Tis Pity She’s a Whore, I noticed the lack of a substantial father-son relationship between Florio and Giovanni, especially compared with the relationship between the Friar and Giovanni. It seems that Giovanni is withdrawn from a meaningful relationship with Florio and has replaced his father figure with the Friar.

Throughout the entire play, Giovanni does not refer to Florio as “Father,” until Act V, when he has fully disregarded the rules of society through incest, blasphemy, greed, and murder. At this point, it seems his potential resentment for his father has been relieved—there is nothing more to hide, and he has admitted to ruining his family and Florio’s hope for an heir. Earlier, in Act III Scene IV, Giovanni distantly addresses his father as “sir.” Florio consistently refers to Giovanni as “son,” or “my son,” but Giovanni does not reciprocate the familiarity. During the final scene of the play, Giovanni refers to Florio as “Father” five times, but this does not seem to imply respect. He also says, “… How much I have deserved to be your son,” playing on the duality of biological son and son-in-law. Speaking of Annabella, he calls himself “A happy monarch of her heart and her,” which seems to further challenge Florio’s role as father. After Florio’s death, Giovanni’s commentary from lines 64-68 seems heartless and maybe even sarcastic.

Giovanni addresses the Friar as “Father” far more frequently and respectfully than he addresses Florio. Of course, the Friar is commonly referred to as “Father” due to his position within the church, but there seems to be more to it than that. Most conversations between Giovanni and the Friar are filled with words like “gentle father,” “my father,” “fair son,” and “my son.” Also, the Friar served as Giovanni’s tutor, and he was far more devoted to Giovanni as a person than the average tutor to a student. In Act I Scene I, he says, “I was proud of my tutelage, and chose rather to leave my books than part with thee. I did so, but the fruits of all my hopes are lost in thee, as thou art in thyself.” The Friar’s extreme commitment to Giovanni as his student, along with his heartfelt disappointment at Giovanni’s wrongdoings, implies a deeper, seemingly paternal bond.

I have trouble believing that Giovanni would so consistently address the Friar as “Father” in a strictly religious respect. Giovanni does not truly adhere to Catholicism at any point during the play. He even ventures to tell the Friar, “The hell you oft have prompted is naught else but slavish and fond superstitious fear; and I could prove it too. (5.3.19-21)” He challenges religion constantly, refusing to repent despite the Friar’s relentless efforts. He lies to Annabella, saying that the church has granted permission for their love (1.2.241), he continues to sin by participating in the incestuous affair after Annabella has married, he refuses to believe in heaven or hell for lack of proof (5.5.33), and he thanks Vasques for killing him so he wouldn’t have to do it himself (5.6.100). He even associates religion with sorcery (5.3.27).

All of this combined with Giovanni’s polytheistic references (1.1.21-24) and his references to love as an object of worship, even a god, make it clear that Giovanni is in no sense a religious man. Thus, his strict adherence to calling the Friar “Father,” and their intimate relationship contrasts with Giovanni’s relationship with Florio and seems more paternal.

In John Ford’s ‘Tis Pity She’s a Whore, why does Putana so easily surrender the truth to Soranzo’s lowly assistant? This is a woman who has a lifetime of experience in using her sexuality to control men. Certainly, after all those years, she has developed more common sense than to allow a patronizing servant to get the better of her! “Heaven forgive us!” cries Putana when Vasques warns her of Soranzo’s forthcoming wrath. How quickly is she tricked into confessing the truth of Annabella and Giovanni’s incestuous relationship. Perhaps my modern day concept of a whore corrupts my opinion of Putana. To me, whores are hardened, distrustful, bold and unafraid. Throughout the play, Ford treats us to Putana’s recognizably whorish traits—she endorses incest, premarital sex and secrets of the heart. Then, when the character of a whore really counts, she falters! Putana is stupid and disappointing to whores everywhere—from early England to late Now. –Christopher Stoddard

The first thoughts that came into my head while reading the second half of The Dutchess of Malfi were the lyrics of Thom Yorke, “You’re just like an angel/ Your skin makes me cry…You float like a feather in a beautiful world / you’re so very special/ I wish I was special/ But I’m a creep/ I’m a weirdo/ what the hell am I doing here? / I don’t belong here…” You ask what does Radiohead have to do with the Dutchess of Malfi? The answer is nothing at all; however these lyrics draw a strong parallel to the pathetic, out of control and shameless behaviors of both Ferdinand and the easily manipulated Bosola.

We discover that Ferdinand has some serious issues at the very beginning of the play, as he lusts after his sister and goes into inexplicable fits of rage; however his craziness manifests to an absurd degree in Act 4 scene 2, when after plotting to have his sister killed, he weaves through an exaggerated vortex of remorse and guilt in which he chastises Bosola for executing the plot that Ferdinand himself meted out. A few scenes later, he performs ridiculous antics such as trying to restrain his shadow (this is no doubt a metaphor for his own conscience and guilt). The mental picture of a Duke going stark mad trying to catch his shadow like Peter Pan is really funny, but also a little sad. While Webster may have been trying to make the audience laugh (or confuse them), I believe that this display of his foolishness is a brilliantly satiric way of exposing Ferdinand’s bottom feeding character at the core, albeit contradictory to his title as Duke in the eyes of the public.

Then we come to Bosola whom in all honesty I really do feel bad for, even though his ruin is a cause of his own idiocy. The lyrics I mentioned above “I’m a creep… what the hell am I doing here, I don’t belong here” strike a chord with Bosola in a remarkable way. In the beginning of the play, Bosola is recently released from prison for committing a crime that the Cardinal ordered him to do and Bosola not only acknowledges this truth, but is bitter for it and wants to bring misery to those who have condemned him, namely “princes”. Did he learn from his mistake though? Of course not, this is a tragedy we’re talking about here. So Bosola is manipulated again not only by Ferdinand (to kill the Dutchess), but is also influenced by the Cardinal yet again (to kill Antonio). Bosola has not only regressed back to what got him in trouble in the first place, but he finds himself in an even worse position than before, hence “what the hell am I doing here?”. The reason he’s there is because of the very fact that he allows himself to be manipulated and doesn’t learn from his experiences. Particular passages are strewn about the play that would imply Bosola really wanted to do ‘good’; one instance of this appears in Act 5 scene 2, when the Cardinal is trying to persuade him to kill Antonio. Bosola finally puts up a fight, even to the point of rejecting the Cardinals offer of money. However, that hope is deflated when the mention of ‘honor’ appeals to Bosola’s less moral half.

Hence we are taken on a roller coaster of emotions: Ferdinand’s deteriorating sanity, Bosola’s constant inner battle, The Duchesses’ brief yet dramatic resurrection after being killed and then dying again and let’s not forget the random episode displaying Julia’s (I’ll be nice) promiscuity. All are perfect ingredients in creating such a delicious bouillabaisse of tragedy. Although the beginning of the play was a bit challenging for me I actually enjoyed this play very much in the end; I was fortunate to have chosen to write a blog on it and was definitely pleasantly surprised. (I even cried a little bit at the end, I must admit it) 🙂

When I was reading this play, I find myself wondering, is this play promoting the purging of corruption, with the mentioning of the French King ridding his palace of corruption, or emphasizing that the corruption is what makes a government.

This play kind of reminds me of Machiavell’s “The Prince,” rules in how to govern because it has so much to comment about the relationship between a “prince” the one that holds power/money and the lower class. Bosola repeatedly comment on the state of things run by the brothers, like “plum trees rich and overladen with fruit but crows, magpies, and caterpillars feed on them.”(1.1.49-52) The duke and Cardinal are like crows and magpies, they are eating away at the vitality of the things they are to govern. While the people below them in “The court are but like beds in hospital where this man’s head lies at that man’s foot, and so lower and lower.” (1.1.66-68) It almost seems like, he is literally being subjected to lower himself to servitude at the duke’s foot. These corruptions act to further the wealth of the prince, but not to the point where the citizens will revolt.

Another thing that I noticed is that some concepts are meant to mean the opposite. Justice is really injustice, in Bosola’s description of society an unjust place where people with power dictates what is justice. This might be because the corrupt sense of justice seems to be what gets things done quicker than by the books. Another concept that’s inverted is that when a person becomes eminent, they are cursed instead of praised. This is really bizarre in the beginning but it makes sense later, in the case of Antonio. When the Duchess asked people their opinion of Antonio, there were no praises. So these opposite meanings seem to have a foreshadowing effect within the play.

At the end of act I we experience a very bizzare moment in which the Duchess and Antonio perform a weird marriage ceremony. As I wondered whether this is actually even legally binding, it puzzled me. The Duchess’ strenght and perserverance must have been great, when she decided to marry again, outside of her social status, against her brothers’ will. I know it was quite common for men to marry someone of a lower social status, but it must have been unusual and almost unheard of for a woman like the Duchess to marry outside of her status, and she would have to deal with that going forward. I see the Duchess as a strong character that is somewhat revelutionary because she is portrayed as a powerful woman in times where women’s rights were somewhat questionable,  especially in the theathre where women were not even allowed to act on stage. When i think of the Duchess, Queen Elizabeth also comes to mind, as she was also a strong, powerful woman in charge who did not fit into a stereotyped view of  a powerless woman at that time. The Duchess seems like a woman who takes charge of her own fate. She does not listen to what her brothers have to say about her marrying again, and she goes after what she wants. One line was very refreshing in particular in which she states: “The misery of us that are born great! We are forced to woo, because none dare woo us” (ActI) She acts like a man in power, only thing is she’s a woman, and its refreshing to see.

Let’s recap, shall we? We have a crazy, over the top tragedy, complete with very aptly named characters, a man who turns his mother into a bawd for his sister, a semi-incestuous relationship, adultery, rape, intertwining plots as a cluster of characters seek revenge and a fair bit of misogyny. Oh, what quaint devises used in this play! Throw in a man who always seems to have a dead body laying around for when he needs it, and you’ve got a performance for the ages.

Now that I’ve got your attention, I would actually like to talk about the end of the play. As you all know, the play ends in a bloodbath in which someone is killed almost every other line. However, the only other scene that features the death of a character is in the third act, when the Duke was killed. It makes me wonder, does having the play set up in this way do something for the plot? Does it have some deeper meaning  in the story? Or is it all just for the sake of good theatre?

Let’s think about this for a moment, shall we? If Thomas Middleton were to pace himself, and spread out the deaths throughout the play, it would seem to make more sense and would make the play a lot less cartoonish. Unfortunately, it would also make the intertwining plots of revenge less obvious. To have one group of masked revengers come in and act out their plots, and then have another group come in to find their foes already defeated not only makes the play funnier and more interesting, but it blatantly displays the overlapping and intertwining plots.I feel this cluster of deaths is necessary for the humour of the play. It makes it sort of a parody of revenge tragedies, the Scary Movie of its time, if you will.

My initial response to the end of this play was: “Did that really just happen?” Did Vindice really succeed in killing the Duke, then convince Lussurioso that he wasn’t Piato, gain his trust, convince him that Piato murdered his father and ran off, murder Lussurioso by blending in with masque disguises, have the entire royal line kill each other as a result, and then be sentenced to death by Antonio because he couldn’t keep his mouth shut?!

The little “aside” comments that Vindice makes throughout the play make it clear that he thinks rather highly of himself, and after the whole plot resulting in the entire royal family being murdered, I (grudgingly) agreed with him, luck or no luck. Therefore, while the end was a relief because Vindice was too arrogant to be likable, it was also downright shocking in a distasteful manner. The idea that his own big mouth sends him to his death is just…funny.

This play was (to put it lightly) over the top. It’s not enough for Vindice need to attain his revenge by murdering the Duke; he needs to kill Lussurioso as well. While ambition is a trait that should certainly be prevalent in royal households, does everyone need to want to kill their siblings/dad to run the show?

On a final note, I’m not really sure why that comet was introduced. If this was a sort of foreshadowing of Lussurioso’s impending death, I’d have to call it a bit clumsy.

Revenging against one’s enemy makes one the enemy.  Vindice’s fiancé is raped and murdered.  Antonio’s wife is raped and commits suicide.  How each seeks revenge on his offender determines his fate. 

Antonio praises his wife for committing suicide, by choosing to sustain her chastity in death rather than living a life of shame.  While his logic is muddled, he still accepts her death and moves on. 

Vindice, on the other hand, can not let go of his wife—literally.  By morbidly carrying around her skull like it’s a cameo carved in her likeness, his grief festers into a violent anger.  He decides that the only cure for his pain is to murder the Duke and the Duke’s heirs.

In the end, Vindice divulges his bloody conquests to Antonio, expecting him to be pleased with his actions, given that Vindice also fueled the murders of all the brothers of Antonio’s wife’s rapist.  Rather than patting Vindice on the back, however, Antonio has him arrested and put to death.  The last man standing—and alive—is the real hero of Thomas Middleton’s The Revenger’s Tragedy, not the one we’ve been rooting for all along, who slowly morphed into the very villains that offended him.