It is obvious that television and movie violence in our culture has numbed our sensitivity to the psychological pain associated with death, thus further distancing our understanding of the meaning of loss (of human life) and devastation. Shakespeare's texts, on the other hand, use language to examine the deterioration of moral conscience that are the basis for, and the result of violent acts. In Loncraine's rendition of King Richard III, certain filmic devices are used to accentuate the physical act of the murders rather than the psychological progressions that lead up to them, or the struggles of conscience that Shakespeare emphasizes in his original text. This results in a 'flat' pacing throughout the film, in which the visual impact of the murders overtakes the viewer's attention at the very moment of their occurrence, at the expense of an awareness of the larger transformations and character de-evolutions that transpire throughout the play.

The opening scenes of both the playtext and the film version of Richard III demonstrate the differences in exposition of each medium. The play opens with Richard's spoken introduction of himself: "And therefore, since I cannot prove a lover/ To entertain these fair well-spoken days,/ I am determined to prove a villain, … Plots have I laid," The audience now has a sense of his motivations behind his yet-unfinished actions. Dialogue and spoken word, however, are economized in the film medium in favor of a visual exposition of plot and characterization. In the opening scene of Richard III, the viewer is immediately initiated into the action. The first image is a horrific presentation of the murders of Edward and his father without a single utterance of Shakespeare, nor much of an explanation of motivation except for the removal of Richards' gas mask as bullet shots spell out the title: RICHARD III. Richard's most disgusting murderous deeds have been committed in this opening scene, which is a horrific introduction to his charcter (much beyond a shocking physical deformity to which, I would assume, Elizabethan audiences would be agast.) Therefore, his character has been determined at the beginning, and there is no real space for his progressive deterioration of conscience, or any examination of it that is invited by the actual text. Furthermore, it is Richard himself who commits these acts with his very own hand; the symbolic significance of this cinematic portrayal is overlooked by Loncraine in favor of the creation of a 'great Hollywood opening' (Guns! Tanks! Blow a whole through the wall!) to the film. In the text itself, Richard's character is one that continually distances himself from any responsibility of these murders by ordering others to commit them, this being his greatest weakness. Thus, it seems strange, and out-of-character, that he would be shown to commit them himself in the opening scene of the film version.

There seems to be no real logic, other than pure Hollywood effect, in the rendition of the murders on-screen in Loncraine's version of the play. Clarence's throat is slashed while in the bathtub, Rivers is stabbed from underneath while he is bed with his lover, Hastings's body is hung from a rope and sent flying through a trap door as the camera angle looks upward at his dangling feet; the princes are smothered by a red cloth, underneath which their open mouths and struggling fists are visible, Lady Anne's death is pronounced by the single silent act of a spider walking over her open eye. The visual impact of each murder is sudden, and an editing cut returns the tone to an alarmingly peaceful opposition. For example, immediately following the slashing of Clarence's throat, Richard is shown in his study, receiving a massage to his shoulder (perhaps the physical location of his embodiment of conscience?) and relaxing to swing music. However, in the playtext, the second murderer of Clarence is overwhelmed by his conscience after the deed; "A bloody deed, and desperately dispatch'd./ How fain, like Pilate, would I wash my hands of this most grievous murder." The film version, on the other hand, is able to provide an interesting depiction of Richard's characteristic moral distance. The editing cuts between the murder scene of Clarence and the dinner exchange between Richard and Elizabeth, in which Richard accuses her of committing Clarence to the tower, are effective in that Richard's false words and sinful deeds are seen side by side; his malicious nature is made worse by their direct opposition.

This certainly raises the question of how these murders are carried out on the Shakesperian stage, for the stage action in the playtext does not provide any precise indication; for example, "Stabs him," (Act I sc. IV) is all that is stated for the murder of Clarence. In his article, "Elizabethan Stage Violence," Alan C. Dessen explores the possibilities of the Elizabethan staging of battles and murder scenes, but admits that "given our distance, both temporal and cultural, from Shakespeare's Globe, to 'prove' the authenticity of any suggested staging- verisimilar, symbolic, or patterned-is difficult if not impossible," (69). Although the theatrical stage has its spatial limitions made apparent in comparison with infinite camera placements of the film medium, creative possibilities for the acts of violence can nevertheless be considered, in order to emphasize the meaning of the play, or draw symbolic or psychological connections between the murders. Dessen specifically discusses staging possibilities for Richard's eventual death, based on various interpretations of his character and his relationship to other characters. For Richard's final death in the film version of the play, Loncraine creates an extra-layer of meaning by using a visual parallel to the rise-and-fall of Richard's power. As he falls into the firey pits of his self-created hell, the upbeat soundtrack skews the on-screen visual reality; here, the film ends with a smirk on Richmond's face which is difficult to interpret (although I did expect to see his name flash across the screen: RICHMOND; in the manner in which the film began.) This final scene provides a bizarre taste of the emptiness of destruction that has evolved in Richard's movement to power, and no grounds from which the viewer can make meaning of it. Indeed, of the many Shakesperian elements that are abandoned in the translation of text to Hollywood film, it is the sacrifice of language (words with meaning) for rather meaningless visual effect that causes the worst destruction.

Endnote: Throughout writing this thought-essay, I could not erase from my mind the image of the interesting death scene in Olivier's version of Richard III; in which Richard, lying on the field with a sword through his body, thrashes back and forth to the precise rhythm of the dramatic orchestra soundtrack. However, I could not include it in this essay because- really… I don't know what to make of it.

Dessen, Alan C. "The Logic of Elizabethan Stage Violence."
Published in Renaissance drama, vol. 9 (1978).

Loehlin, James N. "Top of the World, Ma:" Richard III and cinematic convention."
Published in Shakespeare the Movie; by Boose, Lynda E. and Burt, Richard.

(c) 1999 by the author. All rights reserved.