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Coriolanus, Darmok, Enkidu, film, Gilgamesh, literature, movies, popular culture, Star Trek
I am concerned that I am no longer an elitistacademic, that I have crossed the line into unabashed elitism or maybe I simply have impeccable taste. My recent Doritos Locos adventure not withstanding, I’m going with the latter. After all, as Annie Savoy states in Bull Durham, “The world is made for people who aren’t cursed with self-awareness.” If I am anything, I am mostly self-aware and cursed with acute knowing. Therefore, I am an unabashed elitistacademic. [That there was a syllogism or maybe tautology or self-delusion. No, it’s none of those, though mayhap delusional. See A-W-A-R-E.]
Let’s get right to it. Coriolanus is simply one of the best films I have seen this year, and for a week-and-a-half I have not stopped thinking about it. Ralph Fiennes, Vanessa Redgrave (Volumnia), and Brian Cox (Menenius) are phenomenal, even Gerard Butler gives a notable performance, mostly because as Aufidius, he spends a considerable amount of time reacting to Coriolanus—that is until the tragic end. As an anti-populist, Coriolanus is saying what many of us are thinking. There are people who are so very easily manipulated by politicians that they are nothing more than pawns used to secure more power for the elites. Now to be fair, I don’t share Coriolanus’ disdain [okay, sometimes], but I certainly understand it. He is a soldier who has devoted his life, his body, to securing the state, and for what? Bickering politicians and plebeians who want nothing more than to see his scars.
T. S. Eliot preferred Coriolanus to Hamlet, but don’t hold that against the soldier. At times, I found myself identifying wholeheartedly with our stoic hero, despite the fact that off the battlefield, he is difficult to read. Coriolanus does not soliloquize, so we cannot or do not know his inner thoughts. And yet, we know exactly what he is thinking and what motivates him. He is a ravenous predator in combat and like a caged animal at home. As a man shaped by war and the ambition of his mother, Coriolanus excels at subduing enemies and maintaining the integrity of the state, but he has no affinity for the masses for whom he oozes contemptuous ire. We feel his discomfort as he is asked to do a duty for which he has not the patience or desire to perform. Framed in medium close-ups, he is a man who is put upon, put to use, and put out.
In a world of nation building, we need people to do a terrible duty that we cannot or are unwilling to do. They are frightening in their convictions, devotion, and singularity of purpose. We need them to keep us safe and our liberty intact, but we don’t actually want them living among us [Shane riding away back to the mountain from whence he came or even Ethan Edwards framed in a doorway, forever excluded from the comforts of a “civilized” world]. They are superb soldiers, as well as terrifying reminders of our own tendencies toward violence and destruction. If they cannot be controlled, if they pose any threat to political ambition or even the status quo, then they are also potential liabilities who must be eliminated or exiled.
It is in exile that Coriolanus shows us the depth of both his fury and love.
Are you familiar with the epic of Gilgamesh? Of course, you are. What am I saying? But just to recap, Gilgamesh, King of Uruk, is brutal and bored. He wants monuments built in his name. The problem is that he hasn’t done anything worthy of memorializing except terrorize his people, who pray for a companion for their king. As the marriage bed is prepared and Gilgamesh awaits his bride, Enkidu, a wild man, shows up. The two are soul mates, but before they adventure together, they destroy an entire town in attempt to subdue each other. Here let Jean Luc Picard tell you:
Besides Wyatt and Doc in Tombstone, Gilgamesh and Enkidu are the best couple of all time. What does any of this have to do with Coriolanus? Well everything actually. Coriolanus and Aufidius are legendary rivals, whose animosity is built on mutual affection/loathing for their combat abilities. Their relationship in many ways parallels that of Gilgamesh and Enkidu. In Coriolanus’ view, Aufidius “is a lion [Coriolanus] is proud to hunt.” And, when he submits to the will of his enemy in attempt to strike a blow against those who have exiled him, Aufidius welcomes Coriolanus telling him that he’s more excited about their proposed union than he was on his wedding night. There is no subtext here, people, just text. [Coriolanus and Aufidius are constantly trying to stab each other with their blades.] Together they exact a terrible vengeance, threatening to strike at the heart of Rome, but when Coriolanus relents, giving in to the “tears of women,” Aufidius has no other choice than to destroy what he once admired.
Shaka, when the walls fell.