Alisa Heskin Coriolanus Dr. Sprunger Final Paper 31 May, 2015
The Silent Soliloquy: Introspection in Shakespeare’s Coriolanus
“This above all,—to thine own self be true; And it must follow, as the night the day, Thou canst not then be false to any man.” (Hamlet I.iii.78-80)
While the familiar epigraph above originates from one of William Shakespeare’s most well-known plays, its sentiment can be aptly applied to what is described by R. B. Parker as
the central conflict of one of the Bard’s least recognized works, Coriolanus (69). Protagonist and legendary Roman general Caius Martius Coriolanus strives to remain true to his nature,
but despite his aspirations, Martius is frequently described as (accused of?) being an
inaccessible character and having “the most limited consciousness” of all of Shakespeare’s
protagonists (Bloom 577). Indeed, the play rarely makes use of traditional introspective
techniques such as the soliloquy, aside, and letter, which would otherwise clarify to what self
Martius is trying to be true (Bloom 577). Far from being a shortcoming on Shakespeare’s
part, this uncertainty of self is a quality that Martius comes to share with the audience as his
pursuit to “Not to be other than one thing” becomes more complex (Bloom 578, IV.vii.42).
Analyzing the text in conjunction with three film and stage adaptations demonstrates the
versatility by which this disconnection can be approached and accommodated for through
cinematic and adapted theatrical techniques.
The basic plot of the play deals with the rejection of a fierce and uncompromising
Roman general after he attempts to assume a role in the Roman government. This occurs
following his victory at the Volscian city of Corioles, where he is awarded the honorific title
of Coriolanus and a chance to serve as consul of Rome. The opportunity stirs resistance among the people since Martius is often hostile to the citizens of Rome, and they reciprocate Heskin 2
the feeling. Those on Martius’ side include his wife Virgilia, who will play a key role in a
discussion of nonverbal introspection. His mother Volumnia has a name that alludes to the
magnitude of her presence, and she frequently imposes her will on Martius. Menenius acts as
Martius’ good friend and political advisor but collaborates with Volumnia in shaping his
friend’s actions. On the other side, the tribunes Brutus and Sicinius serve as voices of the
common people, often influencing the voices they represent in order to excite them against
Martius. After being banished, Martius joins with the Volsces, Rome’s enemies led by rival
Tullus Aufidius, to attack his home city. Volumnia persuades Martius to discontinue the
campaign, and the Volsces kill him in retaliation for his betrayal.
Three film and stage adaptations will be included in the discussion. The earliest of the
three productions was released in 1984 with Alan Howard in the title role. The film was part
of a larger project funded by the BBC to adapt all of Shakespeare’s plays to film. In 2011,
Ralph Fiennes directed and starred in a cinematic adaptation of Coriolanus that differs from
its counterparts with a gritty, modern setting. Lastly, the 2014 National Theatre Live
production at the Donmar Warehouse cast Tom Hiddleston as the Roman general who would
“not flatter Neptune for his trident / Or Jove for’s power to thunder” (III.i.258-260). It should
also be noted that the 2014 production is a recording of a stage performance. While these are
traditionally not categorized as films, it possesses cinematic attributes due to it also being
intended for film audiences and incorporating fairly ambitious camerawork, especially in
comparison to the minimalist 1984 adaptation.
Because the bulk of the analysis in this paper will be centered on voice in Coriolanus,
it is first necessary to understand how Shakespeare uses verbal expression to establish
character. In Shakespeare’s plays, a character is developed primarily through what he or she
says, the voice. To get the full measure of a character, one must synthesize what may be
referred to as the outer and inner voices. The outer voice is typically diegetic, meaning that it Heskin 3 is part of the world of the story. Dialogue between characters exemplifies the outer voice, and it establishes a character as he or she is known to other characters within a play. In contrast, the inner voice is often non-diegetic and expressed through techniques such as the soliloquy, aside, and letter. The information conveyed through these methods is typically known only to the audience and not other characters, in a sense creating a dialogue between speaker and audience. Shakespeare excels in shaping characters whose outer and inner voices differ from one another. His skill in constructing that disparity enables the audience’s ability to recognize the gap between public and private expression – dramatic irony – which serves to highlight the audience’s privileged perspective in the narrative and, arguably, invest them in caring about the character.
In addressing the soliloquy specifically, it is one of the most direct ways by which an audience gains insight into a character’s psychology. Hamlet’s indecision, Lear’s defiance, and Richard III’s gleeful malice are all revealed to us, undiluted, through this inner voice, whereas these qualities may be less evident or actively concealed in the character’s interactions with others. Due to its nature as an internal monologue, the privacy of the soliloquy is granted a higher level of truth in terms of conveying how a character is thinking and feeling, especially in comparison to the diegetic or outer voice. Whether the stage is literal or metaphoric, the act of introspection depends intrinsically on the self. Generally as a result, private expression is privileged over public expression since the latter also depends on others. The soliloquy in addition to the aside and letter are methods Shakespeare favors for establishing the inner voice, and scholars have noted that Coriolanus rarely utilizes them
(Clayton 149), leading to an underestimation of Martius’ dimension as a protagonist (Bloom
577).
Martius can hardly be called introspective in a traditional manner, yet one of his defining features is his unflattering honesty that implies his inner and outer voices are equally Heskin 4
authentic and indistinguishable. Essentially, if the outer and inner voices were represented by
a Venn diagram, Martius would think of himself as a circle. He seems to have little need for
such techniques since “His heart’s his mouth. What his breast forges, that his tongue must
vent” (III.i.259-260). For Martius, the integrity of the self is only possible if the outward expression reflects the inward, and the inner voice is only valid if it is expressed outwardly.
To act otherwise is, in his words, to “surcease to honour mine own truth, / And by my body’s action teach my mind / A most inherent baseness” (III.ii.123-125).
The validation of the inward self through outward expression is all the more evident in
Martius’ speech to the Roman soldiers before Corioles where he makes the following
challenge:
If any such be here— As it were sin to doubt—that love this painting Wherein you see me smeared; if any fear Lesser his person than an ill report; If any think brave death outweighs bad life, And that his country’s dearer than himself, Let him alone, or so many so minded, Wave thus to express his disposition, And follow Martius. (I.vii.68-76)
The rallying cry is soon followed with “If these shows be not outward, which of you / But is four Volsces?” (I.vii.78-79) In saying so, Martius implies that to deny confirmation of one’s own nature is to deny its existence entirely to the point that it may as well be mistaken for its opposite. Such an expectation for “language to be immediately denotative” is established in
the character’s introduction (Parker 83). The very first lines delivered by this “chief enemy
to the people” are contemptuous of their voices since “with every minute you do change a
mind, / And call him noble that was now your hate, / Him vile that was your garland” (I.i.7-8,
179-181). Martius’ disdain for the Roman citizens partly stems from what he perceives as the
mercurial, and therefore disingenuous, nature of the people. Later, Cominius threatens
punishment for a messenger whose outdated news of a Roman retreat is belied by Martius Heskin 5
himself coming to Cominius’ aid, but Martius defends the messenger by saying, “Let him
alone. / He did inform the truth” (I.vii.42-43). Martius rarely misses an opportunity to make
his feelings known since active affirmation is necessary to maintain authenticity, and failure
to do so invites scorn.
Considering how ardently Martius subscribes to a policy of uncompromising honesty
and truthfulness to self, in a sense, this “most absolute sir” can be initially interpreted as
being one big soliloquy (IV.v.137). After all, a soliloquy’s purpose involves the revealing of
a character’s true thoughts and feelings, and Martius makes a point of laying these bare
despite the consequences and the efforts made by his friends to quiet him.1 Yet, like any
affirmation implied in Coriolanus, the idea quickly tempers itself through contradiction. The
strength or “thunder-like percussion” of Martius’ voice is undermined throughout the play, which becomes apparent by the language used to describe him, the language he uses in response, the machinations of others to convince him to act against what Martius perceives as his nature, and in the techniques such as the soliloquy, aside, and letter (I.v.32).
The integrity of Martius’ voice is often undermined by the language used to describe him. This is directly accomplished when Menenius attempts to excuse Martius’ rant in the
Senate by attributing his attitudes to “being bred i’th’ wars” and calling him “ill-schooled / In bolted language,” which is an argument he makes use of again during the marketplace scene
(III.i.323-324).2 More indirectly, dehumanizing language frequently appears in describing
Martius either as object, animal, or deity (Parker 228). According to Cominius, Martius is a
“thing of blood” while Menenius likens him to a “thing made for Alexander,” and a Volscian
watchman takes comfort in Martius being “the rock, the oak, not to be wind-shaken”
(II.ii.107, V.iv.22, V.ii.109). As an animal, Martius is the lamb, the bear, the dragon, and
1Coriolanus: “This was my speech, and I will speak’t again—” Menenius: “Not now, not now.” First Senator: “Not in this heat, sir, now.” Coriolanus: “Now as I live, / I will” (III.i.64-68). 2 Menenius: “Consider further / That when he speaks not like a citizen, / You find him like a soldier. Do not take / His rougher accents for malicious sounds, / But, as I say, such as become a soldier / Rather than envy you” (III.iii.50-55). Heskin 6
more (II.i.8-11, V.iv.13). As a deity, he is Mars, which is unsurprising considering his
occupation and surname (IV.v.119). While such language often comes as praise and is
sometimes used by Martius himself, it remains notable that, with the possible exception of
Mars, all of these are speechless entities. Furthermore, animalistic language is used
disparagingly, usually by Martius, against the “beastly plebeians,” and their voices are
derided as the “common cry of curs” (II.i.92, III.iii.121).
The undermining of Martius’ outer voice is otherwise illustrated when Martius
appeals for the citizens’ voices in order to become consul. Doing so contradicts his known
hostility toward their opinions. Regarding the custom as hypocritical to his nature, Martius
calls it “a part / That I shall blush in acting” (II.ii.142-143). After its completion Martius
requests a change of costume, and by “knowing [himself] again” he can be named consul
(II.iii.144). Language referring to acting occurs at other key moments of persuasion. When
Martius is being convinced to apologize to the people after his outburst in the Senate, he
insists, “Rather say I play / The man I am” (III.ii.15-16). Volumnia joins in with “Because
that now it lies you on to speak / To th’ people; not by your own instruction, / Nor by th’
matter which your heart prompts you” (III.ii.54-56). When his family appears near the end of
the play to beg that he cease his campaign against Rome, Martius notes, “Like a dull actor
now / I have forgot my part” (V.iii.40-41). By its very nature, acting projects a deliberately
constructed persona, a disguise with varying fidelity to its source, and invoking the theatrical
trade highlights the growing distance between Martius’ nature and his deeds.
Notably, Martius does submit to playing such roles, albeit usually temporarily, which complicates the relationship between his inner and outer voices. He agrees to ask for the people’s voices despite his opposition to the custom; although, the effort is marred somewhat by Howard’s childish petulance, Fiennes’ stiffness, and Hiddleston’s impatient mockery.
Additionally, Martius does initially capitulate to the tribunes at the marketplace, and he does Heskin 7
forego his intentions to see “Rome embraced with fire” (V.ii.9). Again, neither of these
decisions ends well for Martius. In each case, the language referring to acting implies that
Martius’ voice and/or actions no longer match his thoughts.
It is significant then that Martius’ first soliloquy occurs when he is performing an act with which he does not agree. Martius first delivers a soliloquy during the canvassing of the people’s voices in Act II, and at this point his inner and outer voices diverge from one another. Martius discloses an awareness of the hypocrisy in the performance of such an act but a resignation to do as “custom wills” (II.iii.114). The sudden use of the technique illustrates Martius’ growing uncertainty in the integrity of the voice and, therefore, his own integrity of self.
Despite the separation of inner and outer voice, the text still only rarely uses traditional introspective techniques. The only other explicit soliloquies that occur in the text are when the banished Martius stands before Antium, and he ruminates on the fickleness of friends before resolving to join up with the Volsces. Notably, these latter soliloquies occur when Martius is furthest from Rome and perhaps best able to express himself without the interference of those closest to him. Upon entering Aufidius’ home, Martius even has a few wry asides during his encounters with the servants. However, these instances are scant, and at the climactic moment of the play when Martius resolves whether or not to attack Rome, a stage direction that appears in the First Folio indicates, “He holds her [Volumnia] by the hand, silent” (V.iii.183.1). As a whole, Coriolanus draws attention for having “more elaborate than usual” stage directions (Parker 144), and this particular one is atypical in that the technique is more often used to denote basic blocking such as entrances and exits. The stage direction extends beyond simply indicating the action but also specifies the nature of it, silent. The audience is denied verbal access to this moment of introspection, which lasts a Heskin 8
little less than twenty seconds in the 2011 adaptation and more than thirty seconds apiece in
the cases of the 1984 and 2014 versions.
With the integrity of the outer voice shaken and a scarcity of conventional introspective techniques, how then does the audience gain insight into Martius? After all,
Martius determines to remain true to his nature throughout the play, and whether he succeeds is made difficult for the audience to judge without having an idea of what it means for
Martius to be true to himself. The issue is further complicated by Martius seeming to share this uncertainty with the audience. The all-important question then becomes, what strategies do the three adaptations use to convey introspection? Taken together, the adaptations form a spectrum in responding to Martius’ internal opacity with the 1984 adaptation doing its utmost to establish a more traditional inner voice for Martius while the 2011 adaptation opts to minimize it. The 2014 production falls somewhere in the middle by implementing techniques to make Martius’ introspection more accessible but doing so through unconventional methods.
The uncertainty of voice and self sparks a variety of approaches from the cinematic productions, and the adaptation of the aforementioned theatrical techniques reflects that versatility. As alluded to previously, a spectrum emerges with the 2011 Fiennes film serving as one extreme since it opts to almost completely eliminate the conventional inner voice. A few lines from the canvassing soliloquy are kept but converted to dialogue directed at
Menenius preceding the scene. The soliloquies before Antium are excised as are the asides.
Whether this restores the integrity of the outer voice is questionable as the manipulation of the outer voice remains prevalent through the use of technology in its modern setting.
Martius expresses his distaste in appealing for the people’s voices in the Senate, and his words carry into the microphone before Menenius scrambles to cover it. The venue for
Martius’ apology to the Roman citizens moves from the marketplace to a television studio Heskin 9
set. At the start of his speech, the microphone malfunctions with feedback sounding over the
speakers, resulting in the studio audience’s laughter. When tensions escalate during the scene, Cominius attempts to speak in Martius’ defense but is drowned out by Sicinius, whose voice is amplified by a microphone. As a result, the outer voice’s susceptibility to distortion
is demonstrated in a novel way, and Martius achieves new levels of inscrutability in having
avenues by which the audience might gain insight into his mental state made unavailable.
Marking the other end of the spectrum, the 1984 BBC production makes a point of establishing a more conventional inner voice for Martius. This is accomplished chiefly through a use of voiceover and framing. The conversion of dialogue into soliloquy via voiceover occurs at two instances. Before the battle of Corioles in Act I begins, Martius rides back and forth on his horse surveying the Roman troops and silently cursing these “souls of geese / That bear the shapes of men” before shouting for them to “Mend and charge home”
(I.v.5-6, 9). Voiceover does not occur again until Martius’ resolve to attack Rome is tried, and he does not speak aloud to those that have come to plead with him until Virgilia addresses him directly (V.iii.22-36). The technique bestows a heightened authenticity to the language since it would be difficult to be more intimate with Martius’ thoughts than to hear them in his head. What is unusual, however, is how selectively voiceover is used since
Martius’ previously established soliloquies in the text are delivered aloud in the usual manner.
The infrequency of the voiceover is mitigated somewhat by the second technique, a visual framing motif. The camera frames the speaker alone in a close-up that creates the impression of a soliloquy despite other characters still being present. The pattern can be interpreted as a realization of the “semi-soliloquy” with which Shakespeare is said to have experimented in Coriolanus, and the technique is defined as “speeches…which begin as conversations with other characters but…the speakers…seem to forget the presence of their Heskin 10
listeners” (Parker 71). The final scene of the first act effectively illustrates the motif. While
a soldier’s lines are heard off screen, only Aufidius ever appears in the frame. Similarly,
when Martius begins his “Away, my disposition” speech before the marketplace scene, the
camera cuts from Volumnia and Martius to a shot with only Martius in the frame (III.ii.113).
At the declaration of “I will not do’t,” the camera returns to a medium shot that includes
Volumnia and Menenius (III.ii.122). The pattern repeats again during Martius’ conversation
with Aufidius in V.iii until Martius’ family arrives for a final appeal, which then leads into
the voiceover soliloquy.
The 2014 stage production falls between the two poles by choosing to amplify
Martius’ inner voice, but not to the extent of the 1984 production. In addition to the
established soliloquies and asides, a sort of pseudo-soliloquy emerges in a similar vein to the
visual framing motif discussed previously. During the speech before Corioles, the camera
cuts from a head-on medium shot of Martius to a profiled medium close-up as he closes his
eyes to deliver the line, “O, me alone! Make you a sword of me?” (I.viii.77). With its softer volume, the tone of the line is a bit difficult to pin down. His looking up suggests a prayer.
However, what could be a hint of sadness in “O, me alone!” makes the line come the closest to warranting the question mark seen in the text, and the moment distinguishes itself from
Howard and Fiennes’ more enthused statements. Another instance of pseudo-soliloquy
occurs during the persuasion in the fifth act. The lighting of the scene changes after Martius
hears his son call out to him, and a spotlight shines down on Martius in the center stage in a
similar manner to an additional scene inserted near the end of the first act. All of the other
characters remain outside of the marked box on stage as Martius speaks, and the pseudo-
soliloquy ends when he sits down again and Virgilia addresses him.
Regarding more explicit soliloquies for Martius, the sole addition in the 2014
production occurs at the conclusion of the marketplace scene that results in Martius’ Heskin 11 banishment. Bloom points out that Martius’ “I banish you!” speech loses much of its power in context, especially since Martius and his supporters leave the scene first while the citizens shout their victory (580). Here, however, Martius’ exclamation of “thus I turn my back” is followed by a rapid up and out movement by the camera as everyone else exits the stage, and the graffitied “It shall be so” towers over him (III.iii.135). Cutting back to a medium close up, Martius’ “There is a world elsewhere” comes off as both a fierce declaration and an equally fierce attempt to assure himself of the line’s veracity, which is made all the more effective from his having remained onstage (III.iii.135).
Along with the soliloquy and aside, the letter is described by Katherine Moroney as able to provide “an inroad to the heart of the man,” and it is not just the content that accomplishes this but also the style that “characterizes the writer as thoroughly as a finger- print” (87, 41). “His letters bear his mind,” says a messenger to Hotspur in Henry IV Part I
(IV.i.20), and Shakespeare makes use of the technique extensively throughout his works with references to more than 180 letters and the contents of forty-two of them being paraphrased or read aloud onstage (Moroney 139-140). The letter, in a sense, functions as a bridge between the inner and outer voices because it seeks dialogue with another but allows for the writer to express him or herself without being in proximity to the recipient. The letter, independent of its content, represents a tangible manifestation of the voice, and how it is treated reveals as much about the receiver of the letter as it does about the writer. Letters appear consistently throughout Coriolanus, and the 2014 adaptation takes advantage of the technique more so than the other productions.
Considering Martius’ susceptibility to persuasion, a letter would serve as an effective means to convey his inner character without the potential of it being obscured. Following the battle at Corioles, Volumnia, Virgilia, Menenius, and the Roman Senate all receive letters from Martius. While Volumnia alludes to the contents of the letters from Lartius and Heskin 12
Cominius, both of which speak to Martius’ successes, she makes no reference to her own son’s correspondence, the absence of which implies a greater concern for his deeds than his voice and person. Virgilia displays the opposite in the 2014 production by being the only one onstage shown reading one of Martius’ letters during the scene.
Martius gives letters to both Cominius and Menenius after, in a neat reversal, he refuses to hear either of them speak in defense of Rome in Act V. Once again, the audience is denied a specific account of the letter’s contents, although, Cominius makes mention of “an oath to hold to his conditions” (V.i.69). Menenius’ letter is all the more tantalizing from his reaction to it and from Martius having written it out of the love he once bore him, implying a more personal message. Menenius, in the 2014 adaptation, reads the letter silently while the
Volscian watchmen heckle him, and his tone is despairing and bitter in stating that he cares
“not for th’ world nor your general” (V.ii.100). After another parting remark to the watchmen, Menenius tosses the letter aside and exits, and in the next scene Aufidius is shown picking up the letter and reading it. In contrast, the 1984 production removes the line referring to the letters Martius sends after Corioles but retains the dialogue concerning
Lartius’ and Cominius’ writings. The 2011 production, in keeping with its minimization of the inner voice, chooses to remove all verbal and physical references to Martius’ letters.
In undermining or making scarce the means by which the audience gains insight into
Martius’ character, it remains all the more impressive that this “lonely dragon” is not completely unsympathetic, and instead “the sympathies go by no means exclusively but preeminently to Martius” (Clayton 153). Part of this can be attributed to Martius’ opponents, the shifty tribunes Brutus and Sicinius. Likewise, his allies, the effortlessly manipulative
Menenius and Volumnia, are not particularly honorable or, at times, likeable in comparison.
Nonetheless, the audience is continuously denied explicit access to Martius’ inner character, and he becomes “difficult to read at crucial moments” (Clayton 149). One might reasonably Heskin 13
come to the conclusion that Martius’ silence in that regard betrays an absence of
introspection, but this is not the case.
An intentional use of silence emerges as a means to convey or, at the very least, imply
consciousness, and these instances of silent soliloquy are evident, foremost, in Virgilia.
Virgilia, the wife of Martius, seems to be a character forgotten by Shakespeare, considering
her lines number less than forty for the entirety of the play. However, following his return to
Rome from Corioles, Martius greets Virgilia as “My gracious silence, hail,” which implies that her silence is purposeful and, to Martius at least, valued (II.i.171). This is the silent soliloquy, and Virgilia is the evidence for unspoken honesty. There exists between Virgilia
and Martius an “inarticulate tenderness,” and Virgilia can be thought of as complementary to
Martius’ honesty with the thought of her silence signifying “honesty in a society which misuses language for deceit” (Parker 54, 102).
Instead of a well-established outer voice, Virgilia’s character becomes accessible through her silence. The 2014 adaptation accomplishes the most in terms of conveying
Virgilia’s (Birgitte Hjort Sørensen) will and sincere support for Martius himself rather than
Coriolanus the hero or traitor. Menenius and Volumnia express joy, not over Martius’ return, but in his returning home wounded since his scars will earn him more respect as Rome’s defender. In response, Virgilia expresses a stunned disbelief, lets go of Menenius’ hand, and
wanders away from them to read Martius’ letter. A telling shot that further emphasizes her
isolation from them occurs soon after this interaction. Virgilia stands in the foreground with
Menenius and Volumnia counting Martius’ wounds in the background. The shot begins with
her facing them and her back to the camera, but she quickly turns away. The genuine
attachment between Virgilia and Martius becomes apparent after he greets her and Menenius
before returning his attention to her while Menenius and Volumnia continue their more
ostentatious welcomes. Preceding Volumnia’s line about having “lived to see inherited my Heskin 14
very wishes,” her facial expression has an edge of disapproval as she notices that Martius and
Virgilia seem more absorbed in each other than the procession (II.i.195).
In further developing Virgilia’s character, the 2014 adaptation takes the opportunity to include her in a scene that does not specifically name her as one of its participants. In the
scene preceding Martius’ sentencing, where instead of entering accompanied with nobles or
patricians as conveyed in the text, he paces along the confines of the stage alone until Virgilia
enters (III.ii.i). While Martius rages, Virgilia moves to catch his hand and comfort him before Volumnia comes on stage. As Volumnia and Menenius begin to counsel Martius, they first look toward Virgilia to dismiss her. Virgilia rolls her eyes and shrugs in exasperated resignation, but, in a tacit show of support, changes direction mid-stride to share a kiss and briefly clasp his hand before exiting. All of these actions effectively convey her defiance even in obedience and her solidarity with Martius. The motif of hand-clasping that permeates the play (Parker 102) is taken advantage of here as well as in a brief sequence in the 2011 adaptation involving Virgilia checking in on her sleeping son before joining Martius and placing a hand on his chest.
It is also worth noting that despite how little Virgilia’s outer voice manifests, it does not lack power, and the defiance demonstrated previously appears even in her introduction.
Indeed, Virgilia is able to do what Martius cannot and resists Volumnia’s will. Virgilia’s mother-in-law requests that she express herself “in a more comfortable sort” before noting that had she a husband like Martius, she would rejoice more from his being gone and achieving honor than being home “where he would show most love” (I.iii.2, 5). However, the response from Virgilia is decidedly far from comfortable when she asks, “But had he died in the business, madam, how then?” (I.iii.19) Furthermore, Virgilia refuses to go “out of doors” until her husband returns, and she stays firm despite prodding from both Volumnia and family friend Valeria (I.iii.74). As she confronts Brutus and Sicinius with Volumnia in Heskin 15
the scene following Martius’ farewell, Sørensen’s Virgilia positively roars the lines, “You
shall stay too! I would I had the power / To say so to my husband” in a moment that bears a
surprising similarity to her husband’s temperament (IV.ii.17-18).
Regarding the authenticity of Virgilia’s outward expression, verbal or nonverbal, her inner character can be said to maintain the highest level of integrity out of anyone since she
rarely offers the opportunity for her outer voice to be distorted or otherwise manipulated.
Instead, she conveys her inner voice through silence and demonstrates its capacity for
“retreating to a core of personality that cannot be spoken and will not surrender” (Parker
102). Virgilia proves that within the negative space lies substance and meaning. Thus, her
integral nature as a character emerges by establishing a means of introspection that implies
more than it say outright, and it becomes “impossible to imagine a Coriolanus without
Virgilia” in examining or re-examining his character (Clayton 160). This becomes especially
relevant in terms of whether or not Martius is able to utilize silence in a manner similar to his
wife in conveying introspection. After all, considering the development of their relationship,
they may have reasonably influenced each other’s behaviors in some way.
In film, a number of nonverbal techniques can be utilized in order to put the audience
in the character’s perspective. Moving back to the 2011 film for a moment, a sequence that
stands out occurs when Cominius extols Martius’ deeds to the Senate. After Martius exits
and Cominius begins speaking, the shot changes to a blurred view of the hallway before the
camera focuses on Martius. The use of jump cuts, close-ups of Martius’ eyes, the echoed
voice of Cominius, and the ominous rumbling sound that is soon revealed to be the noise of
the janitor’s cart passing by all give the impression of subjectivity despite never truly being
from Martius’ visual perspective. The closeness of the camera lends a feeling of
claustrophobia to the moment, and the distortion of Cominius’ voice hints at some sort of Heskin 16 discomfort or mental suffering on Martius’ part as he hears his “nothings monstered”
(II.ii.75).
Elsewhere, during the climactic scene of the play and the moment determining whether Rome will be attacked, Martius remains silent for almost all of it. The outcast
Roman is silent for most of Volumnia’s argument to spare Rome. While Martius weighs his choices, the only indication of the process in the text is the previously described stage direction, “He holds her [Volumnia] by the hand, silent” (V.iii.183.1). In any other
Shakespeare play, this is the moment where the character would go into a soliloquy.
Including the word “silent” in the stage direction gives the lack of dialogue meaning, and in the context of the performance, Martius’ internal struggle is evident.
Where silence as a means of introspection is the most striking occurs in the 2014 adaptation through an event alluded to but not present in the text. The stage production attaches a brief but intimate coda to I.x by continuing beyond Cominius’ final lines saying,
“The blood upon your visage dries; ‘tis time / It should be looked to. Come” (I.x.94-95).
The scene involves Martius alone on stage with only a spotlight from above to illuminate him as he prepares himself to have his wounds cleaned, and water falls down on him from above.
No dialogue is spoken, but Martius’ shaking hand, scarred torso, and expressions of pain offer much in the way of humanizing this “thing of blood” (II.ii.107). From a more cynical perspective, the moment could be dismissed as indulgent, especially considering the popularity of the lead actor. However, to end the analysis there would be a complete disservice to all involved.
Significant attention is paid not only to Martius’ deeds but to the scars he bears since they ostensibly serve as tangible proof of his civic devotion. Upon hearing of the hurts
Martius received at Corioles, Volumnia eagerly remarks, “There will be large cicatrices to show the people when he shall stand for his place” (II.i.143-145). However, Martius rarely Heskin 17
obliges in displaying these wounds that “smart / To hear themselves remembered” even when
appealing for the people’s voices to be consul (I.x.27-28). Martius promises a citizen his
wounds “shall be yours in private,” but the opportunity is not one that arises (II.iii.73). As
has become apparent, the opportunity for Martius to share his introspection does not arise
often either. For one so often described in terms of standing apart, Martius is hardly ever
alone onstage. Only two instances occur explicitly in the text, the first between braces of
citizens during Martius’ bid for consul and the second as he stands before Antium. Both
times are dedicated to soliloquies. In a sense, Martius upholds his promise, which suits his
nature as a hater of promise-breakers (I.ix.2).
A parallel, discernible in the text and highlighted through the nonverbal coda, exists
between the audience and the citizens of Rome. Like the Roman citizens are denied the
chance to view Martius’ battle wounds, so too does the audience seem denied access to
Martius’ introspection. Yet, whether the scars are made visible to the citizens of Rome or not, after fighting “battles thrice six,” Martius’ wounds are both undeniably real and quite numerous by his count of “two dozen odd” and Volumnia and Menenius’ more zealous recordkeeping of twenty-seven (II.i.124, II.i.151). While the audience is denied a conventional manner to experience Martius’ introspection, the coda to I.x is central in that the audience is allowed access to Martius’ scars. The audience is privileged to an aspect of
Martius not otherwise made available. Although the scene is not included in the text, it is certainly in keeping with how scars and the intentional use of silence function in the play.
Through such moments, silence offers an avenue by which the audience can connect to a character’s consciousness, albeit, not an articulate one. In Coriolanus, this becomes especially relevant in considering the manner in which the integrity of the outer voice is both established and deconstructed as well as the use, or lack thereof, of conventional introspective techniques that include the soliloquy, aside, and letter. For as much as the Heskin 18
audience struggles to discern Martius’ inner character and motivations, so too does Martius
himself (Bloom 578). At what point does Martius become untrue to his nature? This
question resists an unambiguous response due to Martius’ nature not being clearly defined. Is
it when he agrees to ask the people for their voices since it contradicts his feelings towards
them, or is it when he resists the authority of the Senate and his mother by doing it poorly?
The moment could lie in his agreeing to subject himself to the tribunes’ judgment, or again
when he does so poorly and loses his temper. Does he betray his nature by relenting in his
vengeful actions against Rome and once again giving in to Volumnia? In other words, when
Martius’ spirit is tried by extremity, does he show mastership in more than floating?3
Perhaps, like Aufidius’ summation of Martius’ flaws, the answer is not in any one moment
but “spices of them all,” and it is Martius’ tragedy that his aspirations to, above all, remain
true to himself are not met (IV.vii.46).
Alternatively, Martius’ decision to spare Rome could be interpreted as the moment in which he does discover his nature, especially if his speech before Corioles is recalled.
Martius fulfills the qualities he indirectly professes to have from those lines (I.vii.68-76).
Fearing “Lesser his person than an ill report” is answered by Volumnia’s assurance that attacking his country would result in a name “Whose repetition will be dogged with curses”
(I.vii.70-71, V.iii.145). Martius’ awareness and acceptance that breaking his promises to
Aufidius will not end well for him affirms that “brave death outweighs bad life / And that his country’s dearer than himself” due to the tie between the welfare of Martius’ family and the safety of Rome (I.vii.72-73). 4 Martius does, in a sense, “wave thus” by taking Volumnia by
the hand before expressing his disposition (I.vii.75). When Martius is killed by the
conspirators, the audience once again sees him smeared in that bloody painting (I.vii.69-70),
3 “You were used / To say extremities was the trier of spirits, / That common chances common men could bear, / That when the sea was calm all boats alike / Showed mastership in floating” (IV.i.3-7). 4 “But for your son, believe it, O believe it, / Most dangerously you have with him prevailed, / If not most mortal to him. But let it come” (V.iii.188-190). Heskin 19 and the tragedy instead lies in Martius having affirmed his nature but only doing so when it is too late.
In any case, the means by which the audience engages with these questions remain complex. The integrity of the outer voice is established and subsequently undermined.
Despite this, the play rarely makes use of techniques typically employed to establish an inner voice for its protagonist. In adapting the text to the stage and screen, however, directors employ a variety of approaches in accommodating for this scarcity and working harder to establish the inner voice. Conventional techniques are amplified in the case of the 1984 adaptation but are downplayed entirely in the 2011 version. Silence as a mode of introspection emerges through the character of Virgilia and in key sequences in the adaptations, which is exemplified effectively by the 2014 production in Virgilia’s added presence and the increased frequency of Martius being alone onstage. These silent soliloquies allow for greater insight into the characters while also implying the presence of much more. Consequently, the opportunity for a richer understanding of both the text and its adaptations arises, and like another work of Shakespeare’s so aptly attests:
“And these external manners of lament Are merely shadows to the unseen grief That swells with silence in the tortured soul; There lies the substance.” (Richard II IV.i.297-300)
Heskin 20
Works Cited
Bloom, Harold. Shakespeare: The Invention of the Human. New York: Riverhead Books, 1998. Print.
Clayton, Thomas. “So our Virtues Lie in the Interpretation of the Time’: Shakespeare’s Tragic Coriolanus and Coriolanus, and Some Question of Value.” The Ben Jonson Journal 1 (1994): 147-181. Print.
Coriolanus. Directed by Josie Rourke. 2014. London, UK: National Theatre Live from Donmar Warehouse, January 30, 2014. Streamed Performance.
Coriolanus. Directed by Ralph Fiennes. 2011. Santa Monica, CA: Lionsgate, 2011. DVD.
Moroney, Katherine. “The Letter as a Dramatic Device in Shakespeare’s Plays.” PhD Dissertation, The University of Oklahoma, 1956. Print.
Parker, R.B. “Introduction.” Introduction. The Tragedy of Coriolanus. New York: Oxford University Press, 2008. 1-148. Print.
Shakespeare, William. The Complete Works of William Shakespeare. New York: Barnes & Noble, Inc., 1994. Print.
---. The Tragedy of Coriolanus. The Oxford Shakespeare. Ed. R.B. Parker. New York: Oxford University Press, 2008. Print.
The Tragedy of Coriolanus. Directed by Elijah Moshinsky. 1984. New York: Ambrose Video Publishing, Inc., 1984. DVD.