Beowulf wæs bealu: Editorial comments upon the new film.

 

Bealu

(strong neuter noun)
Bale, harm, injury, destruction, ruin, evil, mischief, wickedness, malice, a noxious thing.

(strong adjective)
Baleful, deadly, dangerous, wicked, evil.

Beowulf in name only.

This author supposes that, were the film to be titled

"Thanes and Heroes",
"Beo the Arm-Ripper",
"The Curse of Hroðgar", or
"Beware the Watery Tart",

the film would have seemed more appropriate. The screenplay is like looking at the original poem through a glass darkly -- very darkly.



The screenwriters have added several features arguably to increase appeal to (apparently) young male audiences:

-- bosoms; some heaving
-- shapely water-demons
-- love interests for Beowulf
-- unnecessary character flaws in major characters which add to the drama



Features added for (apparently) young females in the audiences include:
-- computer-generated abs, glutes, &c
-- love interests for Beowulf.

And while any or all of these additions would be fine in their own right, putting them in to the venerable story is akin to, say, putting up a Picasso on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel: the original was fine the way it was.

 

The Uncanny Valley.

As the reader has likely heard, the film was "shot" with motion-capture techniques, using actors against a green screen, and all visuals rendered via software. This film likely represents the state of the art in computer-generated film-making. However, even the best this age has to offer comes up short.

A psychological phenomenon called the "uncanny valley"
describes how the human mind perceives representations of our own kind. As the realism of the human figure and motion increases, from stick-figures on a cave wall, though XVIII century realism, to the CGI cartoon era, the viewer's acceptance of the images increases. However, viewer reactions change when the rendering is nearly-but-not-quite perfect. Words such as "creepy", "eerie", and "repulsive" are used to describe that which is almost human, but with something not quite right.

Progress has been made since the recent film adaptation of "The Polar Express", which required a fair amount of suspension of disbelief to view, as it appeared to be not quite live action, but not animated either. "The eyes," one critic noted, "were the giveaway. The eyes weren't natural."

In Beowulf, the lack of realism in the extras is most apparent. One reviewer noted that the extras were on-par with "Shrek" characters. To this author's eyes, the extras look like stock Poser characters. The main characters naturally received more fine-tuning attention, but there are times when motions, faces, and, yes, the eyes, provide clues that something is rotten in Denmark, literally.

 

Rewriting the Motives of Grendel.

The screenwriters used the film to advance their ideas of Grendel's motivation for attacking Hereot. Based on (1) the thesis that Beowulf is an unreliable narrator, self-aggrandising, and (2) that the poet does not provide any explanation for Grendel's singling-out of Hroðgar's people and hall, they concocted the following:

-- Grendel is the son of Hroðgar by a water-demon; the king had no sons by Queen Wealhþeow
-- the illicit coupling of man and demon cursed Hroðgar
-- Grendel acted out of scorn, against the father who in his mind abandonded the son


In the poem, the only motive Grendel has is his own curse; he bore the 'mark of Cain' as the descendant of the Biblical character. The reader is left to supply any further subtext, though this author does not see any reason to look into the motives of the beast. Grendel serves as a manifestation of evil and the unknown, against which (even in the relatively 'civilised' VI century) still persist. Things still walk outside the circle of the campfires at night, and the civilised world looks for heroes to rid that dark of demons.

The concept of a king cursed by his own weakess for the flesh, and a hero who also has congress with the same succubus, makes for a good story. The hero who interally is haunted by the flaws no one else sees, also good. Likewise with the propogation of the Curse of Cain via mankind's flaws. They are just not meet and right to paste into the epic poem. (One may also say the same about the probable insertion of the well-known Christianised portions of the poem into an earlier pagan Germanic story. But that's a whole other topic, best left for scholars other than your writer today.)


The Victories of the "styrigendlica onlícnessa of Beowulf".

"Tonight, we dine with ... Beowulf!"

The Beowulf film (moving pictures of Beowulf, poorly translated above) does have some valuable content and redeeming qualities. Some actual Anglo-Saxon dialogue appears, mainly between Grendel and his mother. The words are accessable to the modern listener: "min cild" (meen child) my child; "modor" (modther) mother; and so forth. The reader may be aware that there is a core of words that have remained little-changed in Modern English from Old English. This author was able to pick up that dialogue fairly well; more so than, say, English via a strong Welsh or Scots accent.

What appears to be a snippet of the original poem in Old English is heard during a celebration of the older King Beowulf's earlier exploits with Grendel. Your author was not immediately able to tell which lines were used, but it sounded authentic enough. A scop was narrarating a staged demonstration of Beowulf (played by a midget) attacking a Grendel complete with break-away arm.

While the digital actors were unsatisfying, other visual effects were top-notch. The glint of torch-light from snow, rapid flight through a winter forest, the blue glamour of an cavernous pool -- all very well-done.

This viewer was able to screen the film in digital 3D, with RayBan-esque glasses. While probably not as good as IMAX 3D, the effects were nonetheless acceptable, and only briefly descended to cliche (Oh no! Look at the spear's tip at my nose!). Fortunately (for this commentor anyway; the reader's opinion may vary) Ms Jolie's anatomy was not rendered in 3D, lest it drive the Average Woman to fits of dispair and inadequacy.



Hwæt: se endestæf.

So, in conclusion: This adaptation of Beowulf is an effective demonstration of the state of the art in motion-capture filmmaking. Despite all the advances, though, the images still ring un-true in distracting ways. It is unfortunate that the filmmakers chose to play with these new cinematic toys whilst trampling over the most important epic in the English language. Had they divorced the story from any connections with the poem, the movie might have gained this Anglo-Saxon-enthusiast's admiration. But as it stands, the experience sullies the good name of Beowulf, and its anonymous scribe. To remove the aftertaste, yours truly will re-visit the original tale this afternooon.

Be well; Beoð ge gesunde, mine hlafordas ond hlæfdigan!

Mediæval performance: An Updated Beowulf

 

There has been much talk in the popular press of late regarding the venerable Beowulf, the thousand-some-year-old epic that underpins all English poetry and literature. In particular, I am told there is a new dramatic adaptation of the story for the cinema.

Not having yet seen this new production, I can say that I have been told that there have been some liberties taken with the plot, characters, and the relationship between Beowulf, Grendel, and Grendel's Mother (interestingly, played by the ubiquitous and bi-accessible Angelina Jolie).

For the scholars of mediæval performance, Anglo-Saxon, oral tradition, and folk instruments, I offer this report of a modern performance of the ancient poem.

The original manuscript is un-named, but known for its protagonist. One manuscript is extant (Cotton Vitellus A. XV, British library). It is dated to somewhere between the VIII and XI centuries, and written in Anglo-Saxon ("Old English", not to be confused with the faux ren-faire stylings properly belonging to Early Modern English). While written in England, the content covers a period of Danish and Swedish history, somewhere in the VI century. In what is thought to be a common feature of epics of the era, truth and fable are inexorably intertwined.

The scop, a minstrel, would have performed the poem, likely set to some accompaniment. At 3183 lines long, a performance of Beowulf would have been epic just for the effort needed. Anglo-Saxon poetry relied not on rhyme, but on alliteration:

Hƿæt! ƿē Gār‐Dena / in geār‐dagum
þēod‐cyninga / þrym gefrūnon,
hū þā æðelingas / ellen fremedon.

ƿ = "w"; þ = "th" as in thick; ð = "th" as in the

Note the repetition of sounds across the caesura: Gār‐Dena, geār‐dagum, and so on.

So, while Beowulf is a staple of the student of English, the poem doesn't see much of the light of the modern day. One recent exception to that was in Professor Tolkien's Lord of the Rings, where Anglo-Saxon is used as the language of the Rohirrim. The Peter Jackson film version contains a dirge sung by Éowyn:

Bealocwealm hafað fréone frecan forth onsended
giedd sculon singan gléomenn sorgiende
on Meduselde þæt he ma no wære
his dryhtne dyrest and mæga deorost.
Bealo...

'An evil death has sent forth the noble warrior
Sorrowing minstrels shall sing a song
in Meduseld that he is no more,
to his dearest lord and kinsmen most beloved.
An evil death...'

The beginning of this newly-written piece recalls line 2265 in Beowulf:

Bealocwelm hafað fela feorhcynna forð onsended...
'Baleful death has many of my living kin sent forth...'

Whilst catching up on my reading today, a particular conversation in an Anglo-Saxon scholar's forum on the æthernet caught my attention. Added to a lively discussion of the film adaptation, was a link to a video performance of one man performing the poem with a reconstructed period harp.

This modern-day scop has memorised(!) the entire poem, and set it to appropriate period music on a harp. The six-stringed instrument was built by a German firm, based on artefacts found in a 7th century Alemannic nobleman's grave in Oberflacht (south of Stuttgart), and corroborated by Sutton Hoo findings.


The instrument is tuned to six tones across an octave which make up three perfect fifths, and two perfect fourths, which gives the scop a useful modal palette with which to work. The sound is rustic, pentatonic, ancient, and haunting.

The effect is astounding, and I am given to imagine that this was what one would have heard a thousand years ago, around a campfire in West Saxony.


References, other than noted above:

(my current favourite translation) Seamus Heaney, Beowulf: A New Verse Translation (Bilingual Edition) W. W. Norton & Company, 2001. ISBN 0393320979.

History of the English Language at Virginia Tech: http://ebbs.english.vt.edu/hel/hel.html

Old English at the University of Virginia: http://faculty.virginia.edu/OldEnglish/

Beowulf Translations: http://www.beowulftranslations.net/

Soundtrack analysis of languages used in the Lord of the Rings film: http://www.elvish.org/gwaith/movie_soundtrack_ttt.htm#e_dirge

Peter S Baker, Introduction to Old English. Oxford: Blackwell, 2003. ISBN 0631234543. Electronic edition at http://www.wmich.edu/medieval/resources/IOE/index.html

Englisc composition listserv: http://www.rochester.edu/englisc/


Beoð ge gesunde!

 

St Crispin, St George, and Harry the King

 

Apropos of a recent story told at the Anvil regarding St George's defence of Englishmen during the Great War, we should pause to recall St Crispin's Day.

It was on 25 October 1415 when Henry V met the Constable of France, Charles d'Albret on the fields near Agincourt in the North of France. An English victory to be sure, but probably better immortalised by the Bard in the eponymous play where King Harry rouses his troops thus:

What's he that wishes so?
My cousin Westmorland. No, my fair cousin:
If we are marked to die, we are enow
To do our country loss; and if to live,
The fewer men, the greater share of honour.
God's will, I pray thee, wish not one man more.
By Jove, I am not covetous for gold,
Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost;
It ernes me not if men my garments wear;
Such outward things dwell not in my desires:
But if it be a sin to covet honour,
I am the most offending soul alive.
No, faith, my coz, wish not a man from England:
God's peace, I would not lose so great an honour
As one man more, methinks, would share from me
For the best hope I have. O, do not wish one more.
Rather proclaim it presently through my host,
That he which hath no stomach to this fight,
Let him depart. His passport shall be made
And crowns for convoy put into his purse:
We would not die in that man's company
That fears his fellowship to die with us.
This day is called the Feast of Crispian:
He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
Will stand a-tiptoe when the day is named,
And rouse him at the name of Crispian.
He that shall see this day and live t'old age,
Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,
And say "To-morrow is Saint Crispian":
Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars
And say "These wounds I had on Crispin's day."
Old men forget: yet all shall be forgot,
But he'll remember with advantages
What feats he did that day. Then shall our names,
Familiar in his mouth as household words
Harry the King, Bedford and Exeter,
Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester,
Be in their flowing cups freshly remembered.
This story shall the good man teach his son;
And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remember'd;
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he today that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition:
And gentlemen in England now abed
Shall think themselves accursed they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.

Henry V, IV, iii.

 

A splendid speech this, nearly making Your Fair Editrix go berate the nearest Frenchman just on principle, but I digress.

 
 
Thus the memory of Harry and his happy few lives on to the modern day, and rightly so. Unfortunately the Saint(s) involved in the day-naming here have not been so well-spoke of late.

 
 
My sources (E.B.) expert in Celtic mythos tell me that Crispin and his twin brother Crispinian may have been syncretisations of Lugh (Mercury from Caesar's description from his Gallic histories). Not that there's anything wrong with that, of course, but by the modern era, the Bishop of Rome had these two fellows demoted a bit, so there are not many recent St Crispin's Day festivals, nor greeting cards.

Fortunately in the East, Crispin and Crispinian are still honoured as Saint-Martyrs, and in the Anglican West they still rate a commemorative day.

So, on this day, this happy day, let us who were not there raise a glass to King Harry and his Brothers, and while we're at it, toss back a wee bit for old Crispin and Crispinian.

Update in Anthropology, and an Editorial

 

Bones of the Romanovs.

The BBC have reported that Russian scientists have made preliminary identification of remains found in July, stating that they were highly probably those of Alexei and Maria, children of the last Tsar, Nicholas II.

The remains were found in Ekaterinburg, the location of the execution of the Royal Family. The remains of the family, along with their servants, were found in 1991, in a concealed pit north of the city. Two individuals were missing from the original site, however: the Tsarevich Alexei, and one of his sisters.



The identity of the remains was aided by DNA testing from members of the British royal family. Recall that the Tsarina Alexandra was Princess Alix of Hesse and by Rhine, the granddaughter of Queen Victoria. Prince Philip, Duke of Edinburgh, is the grandson of Alexandra's elder sister Victoria, Marchioness of Milford-Haven; Philip provided the DNA sample for comparison.

The new finding should bring some closure to this question, that of the missing Tsarevich and his sister. In 1998, the then-identified members of the family were laid to rest in the St Catherine Chapel in the St Peter and Paul Fortress in St Petersburg. Nicholas, Alexandra, Olga, Tatiana, and Anastasia may now be joined by their lost kin.


Russian Victoriana.

For a Caledonian readership, perhaps more well-versed in the names and faces of the British Empire, a few points of reference are in order. Queen Victoria's progeny were found throughout the European noble houses; one of the well-known manifestations was the spread of haemophilia from her gene defect.



Several extant photographs show the Queen with her granddaughter Alix and Nicholas Romanov.


Alix in Coburg Summer 1894 with (left, seated) Kaiser Wilhelm; her fiancé the Tsarevitch Nicholas; Queen Victoria


Queen Victoria, Tsar Nicholas II, Alix and Olga, Prince of Wales, Balmoral 1896


"Tsar-Martyr".

After word spread of the execution of the Tsar, a popular cultus that developed around Nicholas. The so-called Tsar-Martyr was invoked in prayer and featured on icons. A hagiography is detailed here, with numerous accounts of supernatural events associated with Nicholas.




In 1981, the Russian Orthodox Church Outside Russia (one of the portions of the Church formed in exile after the Bolshevik revolution) elevated the Tsar and his family to sainthood, as 'passion-bearers' (страстотéрпец, strastoterpets) -- not martyrs in the Western sense, but rather ones who faced their end with faith. After 8 years of further debate, the Russian Orthodox Patriarchate recognised the family as passion-bearers as well. This was not without some dissension; Nicholas' legacy of rule was not entirely glowing, and arguably contributed to the downfall of the Russian Empire. Proponents argue that, his policies notwithstanding, his personal piety was exemplary.


An editorial.

Somewhat out-of-character, I will offer a few thoughts on this recent update to the Romanov history. There are a few historical events which, when I learned of them in childhood, seemed to have a particular indelible and resonating quality. The murder of the Romanovs was one of those. No one wishes to dwell on disaster or evil, but there was just something about the story that begged for re-telling and re-reflection.* The tragic ending of the lives of the Tsar and his innocent family in a cellar at the hands of a Bolshevik firing squad is one of those pieces of history that cannot be un-seen, once seen in the mind's eye. Part of me has always been deeply moved and troubled by the image of the haemophiliac Tsarevich, the innocent Grand Duchesses, and the non-Russian-born Tsarina sharing the fate of the head of the Empire. Even if one reckons the Tsar's fate to be similar to that of a captain of a sinking ship, the fate of the rest of the family was an unusually cruel one.



So, on to the canonisation, and the associated difficulties. The despicable slaughter of the Romanovs holds just as much weight as that of all the nameless who suffered during and after the revolution. There were many more Anastasias than the Grand Duchess killed by the Bolsheviks and the Soviets. Does one slight the nameless when one reverences the now-sainted Romanovs? I would like to think the two are separated, the so-called New Martyrs and the royal passion bearers. Certainly they are separated theologically**, but on a humanist level, perhaps the Romanovs serve as a touchstone, a symbol, of the brutality of one group against another.

Regardless of my reader's spiritual and/or religious beliefs, I would put forward that, with this new reminder of the events of 1918 in Ekaterinburg, we strive to remember all such victims of violence -- and there are no lack of examples, from one's doorstep out to the ends of the earth.

I appreciate the reader's indulgence in matters more philosophic than scientific in this editorial, and will return the Proceedings towards more science in the near future.


--
* Note the particular interest in the stories surrounding the loss of 1490 lives in the North Atlantic when Titanic sank.
** Theology is quite beyond the scope of this periodical. Interested readers may contact me directly for references to the appropriate sources.

Loch Avie and the Terrain Disaster

Nicholas K, Bellambi E. Unexpected loss of terrain data in a Caledon duchy. Proc Royal Soc 2007;8.


ABSTRACT
Caledon Loch Avie suffered a data casualty on Friday, August 10, during a period of ongoing unusual server performance. One of the authors (EB) witnessed a whole-scale disruption in the Loch Avie terrain. Land elevations were affected across the sim, with some locations receeding over 1 metre. Three woman-hours of terraforming was required to return the Loch's landscaping to normal.

BACKGROUND
While the reader is likely familiar with the typical SL behaviour after client updates and on busy weekend times, the usual set of errors has not, to date, concerned sim structure, but rather, the classic shoe-bum attachment and loss of inventory.

After an uneventful period in-game, EB discovered that across the Loch, terrain elevations had been altered. Land permissions had not been changed, and were re-confirmed to have public terraforming disabled. A check of the estate tools revealed no change to the sim-wide water level, or terrain features.

FINDINGS
The damage consisted of widespread lowering of certain -- but not all -- locations in the loch, and affected both the major land division (Loch Avie proper) as well as the Inbhir Abigh ("Inveravie") sub-parcel at the southwest corner.

The most obvious indicators of a change in terrain were objects now above the ground level which once were at ground level. More subtle changes involved ground on the railroad tracks, and changes in shape to the mountains.

Approximately three hours of terraforming was required to return the Loch to the closest pre-event state possible. The 'revert' land tool proved very useful, though there were significant differences in pre-event and original terrain due to two duchesses' worth of ownership.

CONCLUSIONS
Caledon Loch Avie's terrain was diffusely changed by an unknown mechanism. Repairing the damage was made easier by using the land reversion tool, and by looking at objects to gauge the amount of change that had occurred. Sim owners could increase the ease of terrain recovery by using the terrain data file upload and download features in the estate menu (though neither author has any experience with such). Sim rollback would be another, if drastic, option to investigate.

The cause of the mishap is unknown. Given the fact that the simulator terrain data is an integral part of the sim, and not under the control of the asset server, such a fault would suggest something amiss with the computer on which Loch Avie is simulated, and not a client-side or asset server-side problem.

The Society will continue to serve as a clearinghouse for any future information on such events. Readers are invited to share any information as it may become available.

Found on the desk of Mme Nicholas.

 


Telegram to Dr Beaker Honeydew.




Volcano elevation, on Sir Adso's stationery.






Laboratory notebook page 2237: seismographic analyses of the event.





Laboratory notebook page 2238: geometaphysigorical data.





Draft of a note to BardHaven.

As requested, I have located seven mobile seismographs suitable for portage by penguins. I am sure that this is not part of an elaborate joke, though, honestly, I had my doubts at first.

I have rec'd information from the captain of the vessel Aronnax that he is inbound to the Cay, and should arrive within a day. Unfortunately, your first choice of vessel, the Argonaut, was unavailable, as her captain is still a bit -- how shall I put it plainly -- perturbed at the Society's last fling (or expedition; I won't be pedantic about it). And your second choice, the Arktik is currently employed by the Tsar's academicians at the Pole.

I am happy to vouch for Lady Darkling's credentials, given your question of yesterday. Her dossier in our files is in proper order.

Lastly: the geometaphysigorical data (a few sheets enclosed) are troubling. Honeydew is unusually quiet on this question, and Krogstad has been avoiding the subject altogether, even when prodded. And I do not have to explain my skills at prodding to you, I assure you.

Looking forward to reports of your endeavours, I remain, &c.

KN

Oneirocritica.

Interest in the analysis of dreams goes back to antiquity.  Despite this, such analysis has not yet benefited from the scientific method, which explains my normal disinterest in discussions of dreams.

However ... I came across this poster for the Saint Petersburg Zoological Gardens (in a crate of materials from the Rodina), and I could find no other explanation for it than "A Dream Inspired after a Late Night of Caledon and Whisky".

The caption: "1903 г. С.П.Б. Зоологическiй Садъ"

("S.P.B. Zoologic Gardens")

I defy anyone to look at this poster, and not find themselves, or some personal interest, depicted.  Look -- isn't that Mr Pearse there in the back row?

До свидания! Dasvidanya!