A Little More about George Wilkins, Courtesy of Wikipedia

Gee whiz!  Can y’all believe it’s the end of December?  
Well, I wanted to sneak in one last post before the new year.  
I’ve been thinking a lot about authorship these days.  Now, I personally believe that William Shakespeare did in fact write all of the plays attributed to him (partly because of a documentary I saw by Michael Wood called
In Search of Shakespeare, which I highly recommend, it’s on Netflix
if you’re curious...no, really, I’ll wait...),
I don’t think it was some Earl somewhere or Marlowe or whatever
other theories are floating out there...we have a lot of information about him from documents meticulously kept by the Elizabethan government, numerous speculative books
and of course, the plays themselves.
  
But as far as Pericles is concerned, it’s not just Shakespeare that influenced the story,
there is in fact another author to learn about!
  
I was curious about this fellow, the circumstances surrounding his authorship of Pericles--
did he write just the first two acts, with Shakespeare coming in to clean up the mess?
or did he come back later and tack on the beginning to a fragment Shakespeare had penned?
--and his background, so I decided to do a little investigation into the
mysterious past of George Wilkins, the illustrious co-author of Pericles, Prince of Tyre.
Picture


Not to be confused with George Hubert Wilkins
the noted
Australian Polar explorer:




 Though, I prefer to think of him like this anyhow.

Source

George Wilkins (the correct and not quite as dashing one...though we don’t know,
because I couldn’t find any pictures of him to the contrary)
died in 1618, though apparently had no birth date.  

He was an innkeeper on Cow-Cross Street, London, in an area now known as Clerkenwell near Smithfield Market and the Farringdon Tube Station.  Back in Jacobean times,
 this area was considered a “haunt of whores and theives”
and good old George seemed to be in the thick of the action.  

Most records of his life stem from his appearances in court for such brutal acts as
kicking a pregnant woman in the belly as well as other instances of thievery and violence.  
Perhaps this is why the bawd scenes in Pericles are so viscerally disgusting:
whether Wilkins wrote that part or not, it is thought that Wilkins was in fact
the real-life version of the low down pimp,  Pandar.
Picture




An old cartoon of Cow-Cross.  
Looks cheery, huh?






Source


Wilkins’ literary history is interesting as well; he co-authored a few plays and was most
known for his work as a pamphleteer.
 He also published a novel entitled
The Painful Adventures of Pericles, Prince of Tyre, which is not only told by the old storyteller
John Gower (who also appears in the play version of Pericles), but follows the story of the play extremely closely.  Here’s the
whole text of that novel, if you’re in the least bit curious--
I read the first few paragraphs and my brain started hurting, very dense.

Any who, that is the extent of information to be found on Mr. Wilkins by my roving eye.  
I will admit that I did not search extremely diligently while picking up my kernels of wisdom and
 that I credit it all to this article, right
here.  

At the very least, our George seemed like an interesting fellow,
I’m curious how he came to be associated with the King’s Men in the first place, but,
whatever his actual relationship to Shakespeare was,
he should feel quite proud of himself that his name has found its way onto stages
and into books beyond his misdeeds and unread pamphlets.
 
 
When I first started taking theater classes, theater games scared the crap out of me.  Whenever we would do them in class the same things would pop into my head:
“What’s the word I’m supposed to say? Wait, why are you looking at me?  
What motion and the---AAAH!”  
Then my face would turn a vibrant shade of beet red for the rest of class...


Needless to say, I avoided them at all costs--the same went with improv, I didn’t know what to say or do, and I was so worried about looking like a doofus that I’d hang back and hide till the game was over.
Now that I’m a little older(ish) and wiser, I’ve realized that these games don’t actually have anything to do with me.  Or with any one person for that matter.  The whole point is to be a doofus, to surrender yourself utterly to the fact that you are a part of a group of people whose job it is to tell a story, no matter how silly or x-rated it may become (and believe me, improvs and theater games can get
pretty raunchy).  
The purpose of these games is to train an ensemble to work together, give and
take focus and to trust that wherever the story they make may take them, they are in it together.
 
Fast forward to Pericles workshops and Bryan’s introduction of “Zip, Schwartz, Svigliano,” (Hereafter referred to as ZSS) a variation on ZIP ZAP ZOP except with more complicated rules and more exciting names.  
We, as a group, had just barely gotten the hang of doing Zip Zap Zop together and now Bryan was patiently shepherding us through a variety of improv games, including the infamous “ZSS.”  All the old terrors came up--I could tell that everyone else (with the exception of Bryan) were all having similar worries as to the complicated nature of the game, especially that darn Svigliano. 
The first couple of times we played it I know I was susceptible to quite a few brain malfunctions, but after a few tries we did get sort of the hang of it and
Erin developed a comforting catch phrase "We have months".
I’ve been thinking about what makes a really good ensemble since Gwen Sisco brought up the point in her comment to my last entry...and my brain keeps bringing me back to theater games...

There’s something to be said for being willing to act like a dork in front of the rest of your ensemble members, it brings everyone closer together and I think also lets people see the realest you there is, when you’re the most vulnerable, trying desperately to make sense of rules that don’t actually make that much sense.  Also, the ability to move past the dork-acting phase and communicate with each other is empowering to say the least--the group develops a vocabulary together and becomes a tighter unit.

When that same level of attentiveness and willingness to give over to spontanaety is translated to the stage, it can make for some exciting theater indeed.  For me, it’s totally worth looking like a dork if it means learning something in the process--and after all, what we put up on stage are called “Plays” for a reason, right?

What do you, the viewers at home think?  

More on this Next Entry...In the meantime, here’s some “Who’s Line is it Anyway”
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kfsaSouIus8