None About Caesar Trust
image from hereNew exchange with Thomas about A&C:
Thomas wrote:
dear sean,
just listened to an audio recording of a. and c., en route from ny to
chicago. was thinking of you.
question: why does antony tell cleopatra to trust proculeus?
t.

me:
he didn't in our production. All I say is 'None about Caesar trust'. And even with the whole line, there seems to be a rhythmic compulsion to have Cleo interrupt Antony at that point anyway, and not hear the rest of it.
"My resolution and my hands I'll trust, None about Caesar."
Shakespeare seems to throw it in as a detail btween intimates of what intimates would say to one another, in dire situations (like Cleo telling A. earlier that it is her birthday.)
Of course, the short answer is: he says that because he really said it - at least according to Plutarch - Shakespeare's only source (itself a miracle, since Plutarch clearly hated A&C. One does get an impression though of the boy Shakespeare saying to his friends, "Who would you be? Who would you be in those wars?" And someone answers 'Caesar' and someone says 'Agrippa', and no one says 'Lepidus'. But Shakespeare always said 'Antony. I would be Antony.'
And of course the irony is - Proculeus doesn't turn out to be trustworthy at all. Antony is wrong, yet again.

Thomas:
dear sean,
thanks for these reflections. yes, it's amazing that, given his source, s. makes a. and c. so utterly commandingly attractive.
i think the answer to my question has to begin with your final observation, regarding the irony. there's no reason s. is compelled to include this detail from his source. either a mistake was made (by him or somewhere in the reception), or he chose to do so, and if the latter, some explanation is in order. i think the contrast between proculeus and dolabella must be central here, but i'm not sure where to go next.
were you pleased with your production?
t.

me:
I sometimes wonder whether the play actually got produced in Sh's lifetime. Is there evidence of it? Our production was quite seriously edited, but there was a line of Enobarbus' at Actium that always confused me: Having been asked why I wd fight at sea, I say 'for that he dares me to it'. E. replies 'So hath my lord dared him to single fight.'
But when later I do dare Caesar to single fight, (Tell him he wears the rose of youth upon him, from which the world should note something particular), it's a significant moment for Enobarbus, who observes my weakening character. The fact that I've aleady done some daring, and with E's awareness, strikes me as an odd flaw in the plot.
That said, I *do* think, upon further reflection, that there is a point to the 'None about Caesar trust' line. Antony would suggest a man whom he thinks of as having moral fibre, but Cleo will only succeed with a man who will be open to her charms. That's Dolabella. (in our stripped down production it was, surprisingly, Agrippa.)
There's a clue in Dolabella's name. It means sad/beautiful, doesn't it? in Italian? or aching beauty? Sounds like someone who will be open to Cleo's charms.
I would like to think that Antony has learned something from the scene with Thidias (and from his life with Cleo) and is bluntly and beautifully aware of Cleo's strengths with men, without feeling threatened by them - esp in this moment of death. But he's not. All he ever wants is her love for himself. He is incapable of imagining The Sheltering Sky, much less writing it - imagining his own death and his lover's other lovers, taken in mourning and out of it. Do you know what I mean? Such imaginings inspired only rage in him. Perhaps that's a better answer. Perhaps his indication of who she should trust is meant to point up the differences in their understanding of what a good man is.
I was satisfied by our production despite finding out from an audience member on the last day that it got bad reviews. 'It was so good. You were so good. Why did it get all those bad reviews?' The guy told me, touchingly, that I was the king of actors appearing in huge ambitious sprawling epics that get maligned by critics. It created a nice context for me to look at the reviews (one of which is not just the worst review I've ever got - it's quite possibly the worst review of an actor I've ever seen.)
I've noticed that traditionally the actor playing Antony, no matter who he is, often gets maligned, or at least dismissed, by critics. No matter who he is. And if the critic has respect for the actor, they'll instead make fun of the text he has to speak or the conditions in which he has to work (having to shout 'I am dying Egypt, dying' above the throng of men carrying him, the poor guy...) Or, in the case of Patrick Stewart, conclude that he's now too old to play the part. Antony falls so far in the 2nd half of the play that I wonder whether the critic doesn't begin to confuse his fortunes with those of the actor playing him. I think of A as a man who fails without ultimately being a failure.
More important to me than the production itself, I believe I succeeded in creating a believeable love relationship with Cleopatra - which, we were told, is a rare thing. So much so that it hurts to leave it. I got a nice email the other day from a young local playwright. He wrote:
I was so impressed by the chemistry and the intimacy that you and Lesley created on stage together. I felt that you were truly open to each other and I feel that I so rarely see that between stage lovers on stage here. There was no need for sidelong glances and prolonged touches. It lived in another place altogether. I can't wait to see more of inter-cast work of that depth and deeper in our fair city.
That was what we were after. I was happy to find that someone saw it, because it seems the critics didn't give a shit about it.
Thanks for asking.


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