DEADWOOD

From time to time I enjoy playing with iambic pentameter. I don’t write poetry (unless that’s what you consider song lyrics) and have never attempted to compose a poem using iambic pentameter, even though several of my favorite Robert Frost poems use that meter. And then there’s Shakespeare. The Bard’s use of iambic inspired one latter-day genius, David Milch, creator of the Television series ‘Deadwood’ (2004-2006). While the dialogue in that series was not written in strict iambic pentameter it seemed nevertheless to be inspired by it. The result was a profane brilliance the likes of which we’re unlikely to see again.

I decided to write a short sketch featuring three of Deadwood’s characters, Mr. Merrick, editor of the Newspaper, Jack Langrishe, actor and director of a theatrical troupe, and Richardson, a simple minded, lowly, waiter at the Grand Hotel Dining Room. If you happen to be a fan of that series then you might enjoy this bit of nonsense. If not, then just scroll on by.

Only the dialogue is Iambic Pentameter (10.10.10.10.), and if I’ve done it right you should be able to sing it to “Eventide’ (Abide with me), or any other hymn in that meter. Try it:

Yes, Mr. Merrick, I seem to recall

You making mention of this when first we

Met on the day our weary troupe arrived,

Slowly descending from these great Black Hills

If you enjoy this post then please consider it my way of wishing you a Happy Epiphany!

Anyways …

Interior location – The Grand Central dining room in Deadwood, Dakota Territory, 1877

Merrick: May I say, Mr. Langrishe, that I am much in your debt for taking of your time to keep the readers of The Pioneer informed about the finer things of life such as the theater, art, and acting in which, with all due modesty, I must confess to having dabbled in the past, though strictly as a budding amateur.

Langrishe: Yes, Mr. Merrick, I seem to recall you making mention of this when first we met on the day our weary troupe arrived, slowly descending from these great Black Hills.

Merrick: And a great day that was for me as well.

Langrishe: You are too kind.

Merrick: I simply speak the truth.

(Richardson arrives, silently places plates of food on the table, and obsequiously backs away.)

Langrishe: Such a face!

Merrick: Richardson?

Langrishe: He has the look of a character born in Shakespeare’s time.

(Merrick glances at Richardson and is for a second at a loss for words.)

Merrick: May I ask, Sir, if you might be so kind as to offer some insights into the creative process – in particular, how authors and actors are so inspired?

Langrishe: That, Mr. Merrick, is a question which I have considered now for many years. The ancients spoke of daimons which inspired. There is no amusement without the muse. Writers create, and their words proceed forth and are made flesh by actors who become the incarnate expressions of those words, so much so, I am left to wonder if there is a moment when characters become living creatures independent of their creator. And might such a creature become in its own right a living thing?

Merrick: And cry 'Subsisto!'

Langrishe: Yes! Yes, I exist. Most writers will allow that they are led by characters who in turn drive the plot, the creature becoming the creator.

Merrick: And might such characters continue to live on long past the final curtain call?

Langrishe: I think they do. In fact, I think they must, to be enjoyed forever and anon.