The Hunt for Sturm und Drang

Richard: Now is the winter of our discontent
Made glorious summer by this son of York;
And all the clouds that low'r'd upon our house
In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.

Richard The Third Act 1, scene 1, 1-4

So opens the lines to one of Shakespeare's most compelling works, which ironically tends to lend itself to iconic expressions of disdain, when really the lines indicate the vile leads satisfaction with his life. First tetralogy (the Henry VI plays) geeks might feel Richard's actions in the former plays, including the heinous murder of Henry, give this the distinct tone of corruption. Richard's contentedness reflects his darker desires that will literally manifest themselves in the next few minutes of this soliloquy-in short he concludes it's high time he killed his brother-the king. The juxtaposition of winter rapidly transforming into summer is an almost unnatural dichotomy through its instantaneousness, skipping over spring as though it weren't necessary, only reiterating Richard's caricature-like status that can only comprehend absolutes of pleasure and malice. The final image of the skies, a fixture as a beacon of hope and perseverance perhaps even sanity in the symbolic order, becoming devoured by the ocean and being confined to an underground world as though clouds of sorrow could die emphasizes the unnerving sway of villainy Richard's language and metaphors possess.

Richard doing hand exercises, part of a daily "pre-stabbing for power" workout.

I revisit this quintessential opening in order to delve into my recent understanding of a concept known as Sturm und Drang a German phrase which translates to "Storm and Stress" and is defined by the omnipresent wikipedia as: "a movement in German literature and music taking place from the late 1760s through the early 1780s in which individual subjectivity and, in particular, extremes of emotion were given free expression in response to the confines of rationalism imposed by the Enlightenment and associated aesthetic movements."(Had to change the color, it was being difficult with me). I discovered the term after reading Brecht's first play Baal, and just to cut through the overgrowth of that wiki's verbose and ambiguous definition, the basic concept that intrigues me is that of individual subjectivity that allows you to have an anti-hero to an unparalleled extent, literally a despicable figure in order to subvert the repressive norms that leave this world far too constricting. Of course Richard the Third wasn't really known for his forays into mid 18th century German literature, nonetheless I find him to be an intriguing predecessor to the movement. While Richard is not an unfiltered representation of a monster whose life is dictated by desire and consumption, since he operates within a moral Shakespearean world which will resolve the play with justice in his fruitless attempts to find a horse as his kingdom collapses (he says it better no?), he still provides a rosy framework for protagonist's that upset conceptions of what a lead is capable of in an ethical sense as well as generally providing the overtone for what the artistic community at large expects. In Brecht's Baal we find a tortured artist Baal whose despicable impulses such as unemotional and ravenous sexuality as well as selfishness, gluttony, and hatred of those around him to the point of ruining the lives of others creates a sensation of a character beyond forgiveness. Yet Baal's poetry keeps people clamoring for his company despite his abominable behavior.

An audience that is limited to the sole experiences of someone they would rather condemn creates an interesting and vital tension in the art community. The audience begins to indulge themselves with the reckless immorality of the play, as it dominates the structure, they will find they are sympathizing and perhaps even rooting for the character that only becomes more and more grotesque as the play goes on. In Richard the Third it is perhaps Richard's asides to the audience that instills in people a feeling of complicity, that they have become confidantes in Richard's conquering schemes. In Baal it might be the sheer audacity of the lead character in complete contrast to his fawning public that makes the audience prefer to identify with the one in power. Either way the Sturm und Drang is not fully realized until it crashes down upon the audience's head in a finale that emphasizes how far we're all able to fall, how capable we are of villainy, be it minute or possessing the gravity of say Richard murdering children. These conclusions tend to revolve around the untimely death of the heinous protagonist (on a side note isn't it interesting that so many of these works rely on the title of the main character for the title of the play, as though their irrepressible ego has truly won out via glory). This genre employs a shock campaign that is channeled through a character in order to threaten the social order that has provided the disturbingly fertile ground for a beast such as themselves to come into existence. I believe that in these days of late capitalism (pretension much?) there is something vital about the intentions of Sturm und Drang, whether we care to dwell on it or not we live in times with an abundance of monsters and savage behavior, perhaps to the point where our modern protagonist may have to be redefined-for example our monsters might be the absolutely apathetic, the indifferent masses who shelter themselves from the terrors of reality by insulating themselves, literally erecting a barricade of emotion and intimacy in order to avoid the ever accumulating woes of the world at large. I am eager to find examples of a Sturm und Drang renaissance of sorts that can yield to a better understanding of why monstrosity should resonate with us, why it is an imperative force in our lives and why it must remain so, why it must be addressed as diligently as the constant desires for tangible love and contentedness that seem to exists in everyone. I want to see David Mamet's play and film adaptation Edmond about a man's journey through a hellish New York in which he finds a bizarre vein of redemption akin to the genre I'm on the search for. I'll keep updates on the pursuit for the disastrous! Now doesn't that sound like a warm and gooey batch of cookies seated next to a chilly glass of milk?