Pygmalion Shaw
Pygmalion Shaw
of romance in several ways. For one, he deliberately twists the myth so that the play does not conclude as euphorically
or conveniently, hanging instead in unconventional ambiguity. Next, he mires the story in the sordid and mundane
whenever he gets a chance. Wherever he can, the characters are seen to be belabored by the trivial details of life like
napkins and neckties, and of how one is going to find a taxi on a rainy night. These noisome details keep the story
grounded and decidedly less romantic. Finally, and most significantly, Shaw challenges the possibly insidious
assumptions that come with the Pygmalion myth, forcing us to ask the following: Is the male artist the absolute and
perfect being who has the power to create woman in the image of his desires? Is the woman necessarily the inferior
subject who sees her lover as her sky? Can there only ever be sexual/romantic relations between a man and a woman?
Does beauty reflect virtue? Does the artist love his creation, or merely the art that brought that creation into being?
Famous for writing "talky" plays in which barely anything other than witty repartee takes center stage (plays that the
most prominent critics of his day called non-plays), Shaw finds in Pygmalion a way to turn the talk into action, by
hinging the fairy tale outcome of the flower girl on precisely how she talks. In this way, he draws our attention to his
own art, and to his ability to create, through the medium of speech, not only Pygmalion's Galatea, but Pygmalion
himself. More powerful than Pygmalion, on top of building up his creations, Shaw can take them down as well by
showing their faults and foibles. In this way, it is the playwright alone, and not some divine will, who breathes life into
his characters. While Ovid's Pygmalion may be said to have idolized his Galatea, Shaw's relentless and humorous
honesty humanizes these archetypes, and in the process brings drama and art itself to a more contemporarily relevant
and human level.
Professor Henry Higgins - Henry Higgins is a professor of phonetics who plays Pygmalion to Eliza Doolittle's
Galatea. He is the author of Higgins' Universal Alphabet, believes in concepts like visible speech, and uses all manner
of recording and photographic material to document his phonetic subjects, reducing people and their dialects into what
he sees as readily understandable units. He is an unconventional man, who goes in the opposite direction from the rest
of society in most matters. Indeed, he is impatient with high society, forgetful in his public graces, and poorly
considerate of normal social niceties--the only reason the world has not turned against him is because he is at heart a
good and harmless man. His biggest fault is that he can be a bully.
Eliza Doolittle - "She is not at all a romantic figure." So is she introduced in Act I. Everything about Eliza Doolittle
seems to defy any conventional notions we might have about the romantic heroine. When she is transformed from a
sassy, smart-mouthed kerbstone flower girl with deplorable English, to a (still sassy) regal figure fit to consort with
nobility, it has less to do with her innate qualities as a heroine than with the fairy-tale aspect of the transformation myth
itself. In other words, the character of Eliza Doolittle comes across as being much more instrumental than fundamental.
The real (re-)making of Eliza Doolittle happens after the ambassador's party, when she decides to make a statement for
her own dignity against Higgins' insensitive treatment. This is when she becomes, not a duchess, but an independent
woman; and this explains why Higgins begins to see Eliza not as a mill around his neck but as a creature worthy of his
admiration.
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Colonel Pickering - Colonel Pickering, the author of Spoken Sanskrit, is a match for Higgins (although somewhat
less obsessive) in his passion for phonetics. But where Higgins is a boorish, careless bully, Pickering is always
considerate and a genuinely gentleman. He says little of note in the play, and appears most of all to be a civilized foil to
Higgins' barefoot, absentminded crazy professor. He helps in the Eliza Doolittle experiment by making a wager of it,
saying he will cover the costs of the experiment if Higgins does indeed make a convincing duchess of her. However,
while Higgins only manages to teach Eliza pronunciations, it is Pickering's thoughtful treatment towards Eliza that
teaches her to respect herself.
CAESAR AND CLEOPATRA
Themes
Shaw wants to prove that it was not love but politics that drew Cleopatra to Julius Caesar. He sees the Roman
occupation of ancient Egypt as similar to the British occupation that was occurring during his time. Caesar understands
the importance of good government, and values these things above art and love.
Shaw's philosophy has often been compared to that of Nietzsche. Their shared admiration for men of action shows
itself in Shaw's description of Caesar's struggle with Pompey. In the prologue, the god Ra says, "the blood and iron ye
pin your faith on fell before the spirit of man; for the spirit of man is the will of the gods."
A second theme, apparent both from the text of the play itself and from Shaw's lengthy notes after the play, is Shaw's
belief that people have not been morally improved by civilization and technology. A line from the prologue clearly
illustrates this point. The god Ra addresses the audience and says, "ye shall marvel, after your ignorant manner, that
men twenty centuries ago were already just such as you, and spoke and lived as ye speak and live, no worse and no
better, no wiser and no sillier."
Another theme is the value of clemency. Caesar remarks that he will not stoop to vengeance when confronted with
Septimius, the murderer of Pompey. Caesar throws away letters that would have identified his enemies in Rome,
instead choosing to try to win them to his side. Pothinus remarks that Caesar doesn't torture his captives. At several
points in the play, Caesar lets his enemies go instead of killing them. The wisdom of this approach is revealed when
Cleopatra orders her nurse to kill Pothinus because of his "treachery and disloyalty" (but really because of his insults to
her). This probably contrasts with historical fact.[3] The murder enrages the Egyptian crowd, and but for Mithridates'
reinforcements would have meant the death of all the protagonists. Caesar only endorses the retaliatory murder of
Cleopatra's nurse because it was necessary and humane.
Julius Caesar
Julius Caesar, the dictator of Rome and conqueror of the world. A middle-aged, rather prosaic man, he meets the
childish Cleopatra on a moonlit night in the desert. Although fascinated and rather amused by the beautiful child, he is
too practical and detached to be enthralled by her charms. He forces her out of her childishness and teaches her
statecraft that makes her truly the queen of Egypt.
Cleopatra
Cleopatra, the sixteen-year-old queen of Egypt. An excitable schoolgirl, she is at war with her husband-brother,
Ptolemy Dionysus, for the crown. She believes herself to be in love with the elderly Caesar, who forces her to assume
her dignity as queen, but she really loves only herself. At the end of the play, she is looking forward to the arrival of the
young and handsome Antony.
Ptolemy Dionysus
Ptolemy Dionysus, Cleopatras brother, husband, and rival for her crown, killed in battle against Caesar.
Ftatateeta
3
Ftatateeta, Cleopatras bullying and savage nurse, against whom the queen finally revolts, at Caesars instigation. She is
killed by Rufio.
Britannus
Britannus, Caesars secretary. The eternal Englishman, conventional and easily shocked, he is doggedly faithful to
Caesar.
Rufio
Rufio, a Roman officer and the slayer of Ftatateeta.
Pothinus
Pothinus, Ptolemy Dionysus guardian. He plots against Caesar and, at Cleopatras instigation, is killed by Ftatateeta.
Apollodorus
Apollodorus, a Sicilian.