Customer Reviews

The Invention of Love

5 star:		(8)
4 star:		(4)
3 star:		(1)
2 star:		(1)
1 star:		(2)

 

 

Time is relative in Tom Stoppard's "The Invention of Love." One the one hand, it's a dazzling three-hour journey of many characters and ideas through the years (1859-1936) of A. E. Housman's life; on the other, it's a split second between the moment of the poet's realization of his death on the banks of the river Styx -- "I'm dead, then. Good." -- and his true, cathartic acceptance of it: "How lucky to find myself standing on this empty shore, with the indifferent waters at my feet.

Both a large-scale symphony and delicate chamber music, "Invention" requires thorough understanding of Greek and Latin poetry, the intricacies of the 19th Century academic, social and literary scene, even of the Labouchere amendment to the Criminal Law Act that landed Oscar Wilde in jail - and it allows being dazzled and moved without knowing anything about all that. The play works both on the level of seeing "characters in a play" or appr! eciating (as I couldn't possibly without another lifetime of learning) the full significance of the presence of Walter Pater, John Ruskin, Frank Harris, Jerome K. Jerome... of three generations of famed scholars at Oxford and Cambridge.

Here is the "late Stoppard," the Stoppard of "Arcadia" in his full glory of intellectual brilliance and rich emotional simplicity. Here is a play requiring, demanding, allowing re-reading and re-viewing, a work that keeps growing within the reader, the viewer, culminating in hoped-for (and, in my case, yet unattained) appreciation and understanding, even as old man Housman experiences in breathtaking scenes of conversations by the Styx with his younger self.

In the tiny black rectangle of the Cottlesloe, under Richard Eyre's farewell direction after a decade at the head of the National, "Invention" worked brilliantly, presented by a surprisingly large and uniformly excellent cast, headed by John Wo! od's old Housman and PaulRhys' young one. From Housman's et! ymological exasperation with all the talk about the Wilde controversy ("Homosexuality? What barbarity! It's half Greek and half Latin!") to mindboggling discussions about the role of a comma, to a mini-essay about who "invented" the love elegy (Catullus or Gallus, based on the single surviving line from the work of the latter), the play may be seen as one in the long line of the Clever Stoppard -- "Rosencrantz and Guildenstern," "Jumpers," "The Real Thing" and "Hapgood" - but it is also assuredly in the category of the Great Stoppard of today.

Still, with all the rich complexity and wonderful timewarps that have characterized both plays, may "Invention" by called another "Arcadia"? I don't think so, but the very question may be moot. Both similar and different, the two plays form the foundation of the triumphal arch for a playwright who has progressed on a dislocated time-scale from the fire! works of Wilde to the steady, bright, warm light still shining across two millenia from the poets of Housman's scholarship and passion.

The Invention of Love, in my opinion, Tom Stoppard's best play, opens with A.E. Housman being ferried across the River Styx by Charon, relieved to be dead at last. Or is he? Perhaps he is only dreaming from his bed in a rest home. One of the things that makes The Invention of Love so outstanding is Stoppard's wonderful mix of fantasy and reality. He combines the two so well, in fact, that we're never quite sure which is which. There are luminous scenes of young men rowing down the Thames to Hades, a marvelous Thameside encounter between the youthful Housman and his older self and an almost transcendent conclusion showing Housman stepping off-shore onto a watery-looking stage.

The Invention of Love successfully combines elements from Stoppard's previous plays: the wit and cleverness of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead with the emotional richness and intensity of The Real Thing to the purity of Arcadia. This is, however, a slower, more meditative and contemplative Stoppard. Even the flamboyant Oscar Wilde is presented in a toned-downed, rather Housmanesque style.

The script, itself, although erudite and intellectual, is so opulently rich in imagery and language (yes, there is a lot of Latin) that we, as an audience, are forced to be attentive. Stoppard rewards us handsomely, though, as we become increasingly aware that certain things (rivers, Hades, dogs, love, inventions, inversions, three men in a boat) circle and then loop back and circle again and again.

Those who think Housman's scholarliness might seem dull couldn't be more wrong. It is, instead, the very essence of this marvelous play. Stoppard uses lost Greek plays and corrupted Latin texts like the master he is. And he delivers a poignant message: Even great art contains within itself the seed of its own mortality. Although the artist (in this case, Housman) strives to produce a coherent and hopefully, immortal, body of work, time, itself, eventually leeches almost everything away until only fragments remain. This is a powerful message, to be sure, but in The Invention of Love, it is one that is both comforting and melancholy and sadly, we come to realize, all too true.

It's a hard play to read, an easy one to see, and worthwhile in each case. As much wit as may be expected from the writer of Shakespeare in Love (in fact, some of the same jokes) but more depth. Houseman the scholar is devoted to fine translations of classical poetry; Houseman the man is devoted to his friend in an unrequited and hopeless passion, and to expressing the passion in glorious verse.

Oh, and it all takes place in the afterlife. The dead, older Houseman encountering his younger, buoyant self at Oxford is almost too gloriously terrible to take.

Yes, it's erudite. But then this is Amazon.com. if you're here, you love books.... and just think of the books you'll want to read after reading this (Pater, Ruskin, Wilde...)

I was so moved when I saw it I could barely breather afterwards.

I bought it to get ready to attend the SF showing, which I had to miss, so the best experience still awaits me. It was well-reviewed, and I must see it eventually, now that I have read it. I found this play complex and absorbing, with a richness that requires multiple readings and research to understand all the references and to make sense of the characters' interactions and all the flashbacks.

There is a lot of Latin in the play, and understanding it helps - that is one reason I appreciated having the text to reread and pour over. The dialogue with Housman and Jackson, and with his younger self, is wonderful. The humor is just so well done - it skims along on top of the pain underneath it. This is a risky play, and a fine one.

However, for readers or people looking for something lighter, this is *not* as good a pure read as Arcadia; it is more meaty and introspective. I think it is an experience than no Stoppard fan would want to miss.

As in many of his recent plays, Stoppard plays with and juxtaposes two eras, but this one has more humanity and depth of character than even Arcadia. This is only the second Stoppard play during which I have found myself, at various times, smiling broadly, laughing, and weeping. It contains several little bon mots that epitomize not only the action, but larger issues. For example, at one point a character askes another if he wants to do something. The other replies "I don't mind." The first ripostes "But you should: life is in the minding." (approximate quote)Some reviewers have been put off by the fact there are brief lines in classical Greek and in Latin. These are always explained, or their content is not relevant to the plot, but they do add to the sense of deep scholarship and love of learning that pervade this play. Anyone who cares about learning, individual freedom, and the lifelong development of character will appreciate this play. And it will keep you thinking what it would be like to apply the central device of the play to your own life: what person more than a couple decades old would not like to go back and anonymously meet his younger self?! What would you say?

At first glance, Tom Stoppard's newest work, THE INVENTION OF LOVE, exists as a scholarly presentation of A.E. Housman and the poetry which motivated the bulk of his life. However, Tom Stoppard does not blithely present Housman's life in lecture form. Instead, readers and audiences take a powerful journey beyond the life of Housman's poetry. In it, Stoppard shows us the (im)possibilities of love and friendship, and the indelible events which motivate our later lives. While Stoppard is well known for more intellectual drama, his ability to create heart-breaking moments of theater should not be underestimated. By the end of THE INVENTION OF LOVE, we understand why Housman's choice to hide behind his art is so tragic--and, ultimately, so human. Those who loved ARCADIA should not be without Stoppard at his most personal. Don't let Stoppard fool you: as audiences are aware from the current Broadway revival of THE REAL THING, Tom Stoppard does have a heart, and it one of the most powerful in contemporary theater.

If you've already read 3 or 4 Stoppard plays (& liked them), this may be a good play to read next. When I saw the (stunning) Broadway production, I realized why I hadn't liked the play too well myself (& I really like Stoppard): it's too long. TS needed a strong-willed editor who could have read the manuscript and said, "Tom, we have to cut about 20 minutes from this work to give it greater cohesion and a bit more rhythm--it'll make it a better play." But no one said that, and sometimes you do wish the play moved along a bit more.

In favor of the play, it provides an essential continuation of the debate developed in Travesties and Arcadia: the debate about the artist's role in society, the emotive dilemma of the very good artist who's overshadowed by the great, and the deluge of history that engulfs, erases, and distorts all alike. In some ways, if you want a more refined understanding of Travesties, you need to read Invention to better understand the Wilde/Joyce(/Byron) figure whose carreer obsesses Stoppard.

I like this play because it blends the aesthetic with the dramatic. It's aesthetic because it discusses the great works of literature with the great writers and critics of that time. It's dramatic because this discussion provides an interesting background to an issue that makes difficult the lives of the main characters A.E. Houseman and Oscar Wilde: homosexual love. For Houseman the problem is unrequited love. For Oscar Wilde it is a charge of sodomy.

The point of classical scholarship is to study Greek and Latin works-that is the vocation of the scholars in this play. According to Oscar Wilde, to be an "aesthete" means to believe that all beauty emanates from Greek writing and sculpture particularly sculpture of the nude male form. In the play A.E. Houseman and his scholarly contemporaries-Ruskin and Pater--point out that much Latin and Greek poetry was written by one man who was in love with another. What makes the play ironic is how this aspect of these ancient cultures flies in the face of contemporary Victorian mores. To wit: the characters in the play are homosexual and that was a crime in 19th century England.

Every work of art must have a point or it's pointless. The point in this play is how the definition of love has come full circle since ancient Greece: what was once socially acceptable, boy love (i.e. pedophilia), is now anathema. And what is at best today grudgingly tolerated, homosexual love, was common practice in ancient Greece at least among the dramatists, poets, and philosophers. Stoppard writes: "Before Plato could describe love, the loved one had to be invented." Hence the title: "Invention of Love".

When Houseman died he had been successful in his career but not in his desire for eros: He says "the grave's a fine and private place but none I think there do embrace".

Tom Stoppard's the Invention of Love is a rich, complex and sometimes difficult play chronicling the life of poet and translator A.E. Houseman and contrasting his career with his contemporary Oscar Wilde. The play is a non-linear reflection on Houseman's life after he has died and is being escorted to eternity by Charon the Ferryman. I should have written my review right after I finished it because I have forgotten much of the substance. But it was very eloquent and amusing and gave me a greater appreciation for the art of translation of classical literature and the struggles of outsiders such as homosexuals in modern times.

I confess to be slightly perplexed by this play. Let me say up front that to my mind it is not quite as good as the masterpiece of "Arcadia", nor quite up to the level of "Indian Ink". I saw it (with high expectations) at the National Theatre in London both the directing and acting were quite excellent, and the play itself was unmistakable Stoppard: profound, clever, painful and funny. Uncharacteristically, though, it occasionally felt a bit disjointed and sometimes even contrived, and yet... by the end I had a distinct feeling of the author feeling somehow smug about it all. So I went to see it again -- and the impression grew stronger. So I bought the script and read it several times -- and this lead me to wonder...

There are a number of phrases and situations which are repeated and echoed throughout the play. There is (almost) a kind of formal symmetry here, certain points of the first act being echoed in the second, but it is by no means a simple symmetry. Eventually a thought occurred: is it possible that Stoppard did something *really* clever this time and wrote a play in which certain formal elements follow the formal structure of a Latin poem (or of a whole class of Latin love poetry)? I simply don't know enough to judge, but I wonder... And I certainly wouldn't put it past Sir Tom! :-)