Thursday, March 24, 2011

Troilus and Cressida

It's not like a particularly disliked 'Troilus and Cressida,' I just liked it least.

"Troilus and Cressida" was, to me, not overly interesting at the start. (I started liking it more sometime in the middle of Act IV.) I have not doubt, though, that I would have found it more interesting if I had actually been paying attention. (Yes, I'll admit it, sometimes I really don't pay attention to what I am reading.)

Also, there were almost no likable characters. I mean, I'm sure Troilus it good-looking an' all, but no one was very likable.

Best Character: As I said, there really wasn't one. I kind of liked Nestor. And I may have liked Ulysses. (I read it several weeks ago, and have forgotten a bit.) And Hector was kinda neat, but he wasn't nice to his wife. (That makes him hard to like...)

Worst Character: Uh, Ajax, Achilles, Cressida, to name a few, they were the worst. Oh, and I didn't like Cressida's dad, and her uncle was a little bit weird.

Rated: PG13 Lot and lots of PG13ish stuff. They are, after all, ancient Greeks.

(If you have read anything about Greek mythology, you'll know what I mean.)

In a Word: Greek. (See above comment.)

Crowning Moment: The whole play was rather anticlimatic, I mean, the Bard made it sound like something was actually going to happen and then *poof* Achilles kills Hector and the play it over. But, Troilus' speech at the very end was very beautiful and quite moving.

"You understand me not that tell me so:
I do not speak of flight, of fear, of death,
But dare all imminence that gods and men
Address their dangers in. Hector is gone:
Who shall tell Priam so, or Hecuba?
Let him that will a screech-owl aye be call'd,
Go in to Troy, and say there, Hector's dead:
There is a word will Priam turn to stone;
Make wells and Niobes of the maids and wives,
Cold statues of the youth, and, in a word,
Scare Troy out of itself. But, march away:
Hector is dead; there is no more to say.
Stay yet. You vile abominable tents,
Thus proudly pight upon our Phrygian plains,
Let Titan rise as early as he dare,
I'll through and through you! and, thou great-sized coward,
No space of earth shall sunder our two hates:
I'll haunt thee like a wicked conscience still,
That mouldeth goblins swift as frenzy's thoughts.
Strike a free march to Troy! with comfort go:
Hope of revenge shall hide our inward woe."

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