Ode to a Nightingale: Skyping with Keats and Co.
There are various version of Benedict Cumberbatch reading Ode to a Nightingale by John Keats (1795 – 1821) located on YouTube for your listening pleasure. There is a voice over by Cumberbatch for scenes from Fanny and John (2009, Campion), but I don’t recommend it. The visuals and the voiceover don’t work well together. There’s a heavy echo chamber on the voice over. I didn’t enjoy the film scenes or Cumberbatch’s truncated performance. I prefer this Cumberbatch recitation with some photos and music.
John Keats (1795 – 1821) wrote ode to a Nightingale. He suffered from tuberculosis for most of his life, losing his father, mother, and brother to the disease. Keats fell in love with Fanny Brawne, a young woman above his station. The romance lasted for three years, during which time he wrote most of his works. He parted from his true love in with the hopes that a change of scenery in Italy would strengthen his health. Unfortunately, it did not; Keats died in Italy at 25. His beloved Fanny mourned for him for 10 years, finally marrying at 33. She wore the ring that he gave her until her death at age 65.
Therefore, as is characteristic of the CumberCollective and our ever inventive and creative fanbase, I wanted with chat the Poet himself, rather drone on like a Maths professors before a holiday. Through the magic of Skype, I looked under “Pre-Raphaelite/Romantics/Raphaelite” and lo and behold! – I found myself looking a dapper if somewhat shabbily dress young man, a Beau Brummel dressed by Kmart circa 1819.
“Hello, Mr. Keats. I am here to ask you some questions about your ‘Ode to A Nightingale’ as it is performed by Benedict Cumberbatch and what your…”
From off screen, there came the sound of someone pushing people aside and dashing about the room, “Cumberbatch!!! No way!! Let me chat! Let me see him! I haven’t seen cheekbones like that since Marlowe!” William Shakespeare, billiard cue in hand pops into the frame above Keats’ head.
“It’s not him; you boob, it’s a fan,” replies Keats, clearly annoyed.
“Really”, Shakespeare looks at me; with the disappointed air one gets from seeing James Clarkson rather than J Lo, he storms out of range, “Tell your friends, particularly whatever Ninja, that I am completely out of fanporn. Totally!!! That leather thing, really! Pull the old jerkin on me, will you? MOREOVER, let BC know he’s on his own for Hamlet. Tennant fellow wore me out! Danish? – thanks for the Glasgow laddie, and Fiennes? please, damn near killed me.”
“Sorry, love, you were saying? Don’t mind Bill, he gets a bit testy these days, what with fans calling up, asking for more and more stories for the Batch. The Bard’s been a bit bitchy,” Keats says.
“I heard that, Shorty,” Shakespeare retorts off camera, amid the crashing billiards. “Love you, too, Keats. Now Lovelace? Austen? are you going to play the game or screw around? Percy, it’s your turn. Terrific! Coleridge is sleeping it off, again…”
“You were saying,” Keats props his booted feet on desk, nearly knocking of the keyboard, “Sorry, Wadsworth has the IPad and Fanny forgot to charge the IPhone…Again. Of course, Bill has an Android, and Hemingway has…”
“Oh, Fanny Brawne, your beloved? Who inspired you to write about the joys of love? Whose love totally changed your life and inspired some of the most wonderful poetry in the English language? How romantic that you’re back together,” I was polite, but the interview was not getting to the heart of the matter, so to speak.
“Yeah, well, I died at 25, and she gets here in her 60’s. Ashton Kutcher and Demi Moore we’re not. It’s been a bit of an adjustment. All that “Tender is the night” with Fanny was great but then, we lost track of each other. I was dating Sylvia Plath for a while. She is so depressing; not good with the oven either. Yeah, Fanny and I are working it out. I mean she still has my ring. We see Freud on Wednesdays, and there’s a marital group Thursdays at 6. Tennyson’s on Friday for…”
“I was wondering what you think if Cumberbatch’s performance of your poem?” I interjected, in hopes of redirecting Keats’ conversation.
“So, you were saying…Ah! Cumberbatch’s performance of ‘Ode to a Nightingale’? Loved it! An intimate whisper, so deep and resonating!”
“Cause the mate’s tall, Shorty,” quips Shakespeare as he pops his head back into range of the desktop camera. Keats throws the nearest book from the desk, and Shakespeare clears the room. I believe it was “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock” (T.S. Eliot. 1920) first edition, of course.
“AS I was saying the performance evokes the deep and sinuous call of the nightingale as I heard it that night on Highgate Hill (if I can believe what Leigh Hunt said about it). The sound was haunting and captivating. I like how Cumberbatch captures that the drug-like effect of the song of the nightingale. He is able to evoke what I longed for, what the nightingale represents for me: the green earth and beauty of nature, “ a beaker ful of the warm South.” Yet, it is for me, the call of death itself. Benedict (if I may be so bold) conveys that this brew would enable a life to flow within me and allow me to “leave the world unseen, and with thee, fade away, into the forest dim.” I was swept up into the sound of the musical bird! Cumberbatch reads, and I am there, awaiting the next note and hoping it will carry me away from all my problems. I mean, being sick sucks, even if you can write great poems about it. I particularly like the way he handles the end of the poem, the way he says ‘forlorn’. Then last stanza:
Forlorn! The very word is like a bell
To toll me back from thee to my sole self!
Adieu! The fancy cannot cheat so well
As she is famed to do, deceiving elf.
Adieu! Adieu! Thy plaintive anthem fades
Past near meadows, over the still stream,
Up the hill-side; and not ‘tis buried deep
In the next valley glades:
Was it a vision or a waking dream?
Fled is that music: – do I wake or sleep?
“Cumberbatch does this part with the voice of one who, while lost in his passionate reverie, begins to doubt his own senses – could this have been true? Damn good job, that Cumberbatch…” Keats appears misty eyed.
“Sorry, sinuses you know…Hate the spring,” Keats wipes his noses on his handkerchief.
“John, if I may call you that, your reading was particularly moving. So I take it you would recommend Cumberbatch’s performance?”
“Oh, yes, I really like this one – here, I send you the link…Hmmm love the photos. Nice music, not too distracting.” Keats wistfully plays with the picture of Cumberbatch photobombing U2 at the Oscars next to the monitor.
“Well, you know I have to run, the game and all…Thanks for stopping by. Tell Benedict we are following his career with great interest,” Keats smiles and picks up the Russian GQ from the desk.
“Hey, didn’t mean it about the Hamlet thing. Know I’d be thrilled to help…really let him know,” whispers Shakespeare. He smiles and pops back out of the frame but not before saying, “Tell Gatiss and Moffat the 2016 thing is ridiculous. It’s like an eternity, for god sakes.”
“Will do, Thanks again, John” and I closed the Skype screen.
Well, don’t take John’s and my word for it. Listen with the ear of one who understands the fine line between life and death, joy and sorrow, of love gained and love lost.
For an in-depth story, check out Andrew Motion’s biography about Keats or Jane Campion book about Keats and Fanny, (also a film) “Bright Star: Love Letters and Poems of John Keats to Fanny Brawne” (2009, Penguin Books Ltd., London).
By Terry Sturmer
1 comment to “Ode to a Nightingale: Skyping with Keats and Co.”
Write a comment
You need to be logged in to leave a comment.
Hilarious!