Dec. 28: Classical culture and children

 "The loveliest lady that ever I saw in my life."

Hey, that might be a compliment if you were a comely young woman looking for a suitor. But it might be an insult if you were a boy.

And such is the case. The above quote is ascribed to the English diarist Samuel Pepys, who was describing the boy actor, Edward Kynaston, who plied his trade in the 1600s. It was the era of Elizabethan drama, a time when women were forbidden from acting on the stage. And so, prepubescent boys were tasked with portraying Juliet and Ophelia and Desdemona and - God save the Queen - Lady MacBeth. Oh how awful to ask an 11-year-old to reach into his soul and pull out such black hatred.

It is a terrible shame that women were forbidden from the stage, but it was a time when women were expected to exist only in the domestic sphere - it would have been scandalous for her to perform in a play. Indeed, it would have been akin to prostitution. God bless the brave soul who exposed that for the stupidity that it is. I like living in a world that has been blessed by the performances of Diana Rigg, Judi Dench, Meryl Streep, Katherine McKitrick, and Vanessa Redgrave. I like my Desdemonas to have two X chromosomes.

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One of the wonderful things about modern theatre is that when you see a child in a movie or a play, you know they are playing children. There are exceptions to this, of course - in high school theatre, we suspend our disbelief enough to imagine that the 16-year-old ingenue is Lady Capulet - but I rather like that an 11-year-old doesn't have to pretend to be a woman who is in love with another man. I know that acting is make believe but I can't imagine that sort of "let's pretend" is beneficial to the prepubescent psyche.

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And then there is the story of the minotaur.

If you believe the legend, the Athenians were required to send 14 young people - seven boys and seven girls - to Crete every year (or every nine years, depending on the version) to be cast into the labyrinth of King Minos. Therein dwelt the minotaur - a horrible monster with the body of a man and the head and tail of a bull - who would hunt these young people down and devour them. This was done because a long time ago, the Athenians had killed Minos's son. This regular blood sacrifice was necessary to prevent a full-out war.

The 14 young people were drawn by lot. Then, kicking and screaming, they would be dragged onto a ship and sailed off to Crete. When I first read that story, I thought the 14 youths were pretty stupid. Surely, they'd be able to come up with a game plan that would enable them to trap and overpower the minotaur. I guess that beast was really tough. Either that or all 14 of them were dropped into the labyrinth at different places, which would have prevented them from teaming up.

Then along came a hero named Theseus, who killed the minotaur with the help of Minos' daughter, Ariadne. Ariadne provided him with a spool of thread. He tied one end to the entrance to the labyrinth and unwound it as he ventured farther into the maze. It was, apparently, very complex. Even if you did do the unthinkable, you would still be trapped in said labyrinth, and that, in itself, could drive you mad. The labyrinth, after all, was designed by Daedalus, that great Greek genius architect who also built the wings for his son Icarus' ill-fated flight. Daedalus was also routinely foiled by the Mighty Hercules, but I'll let it go at that.

The Greek myths survive because they are meant to be analogies.

I, myself, can relate to Theseus. There is a labyrinth that I first entered in December of 1988 and I have not found my way out yet. Soon, I hope to slay the minotaur. I just hope the thread is still there so I can find my way out again. I have no idea how Ariadne feels about this.

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I can't tell you the exact moment when pop culture becomes classic something. Is Elvis still a part of pop culture or has he been absorbed into history? I have similar questions about the Beatles, JFK, Muhammed Ali, and James Bond. 

Maybe the answer is that if people are still talking about you 100 years after you're dead, you have graduated from pop culture and into the annals of recorded history. I think JK Rowling will survive that jump. The Rotating Pineapple probably will not.

But A Christmas Carol, I think, will still be performed on stages 100 years from now. It is still a beloved classic and I cannot see its timeless charm fading over the course of the next century. Still, the show is best when an actual child plays Tiny Tim, an actual old man plays Scrooge, and a young spry dancer plays the Ghost of Christmas Past.

As for the Ghost of Christmas Present, I prefer him to be played by a jolly Falstaffian who booms laughter, but now and then, it's okay if they are played by die-hard Toronto Blue Jays fans who crush on Christian Slater.