What We’ve Forgotten About “Camelot” - Part 2

(Photo: Joan Marcus)

by Ashley Griffin, Stage Directions

In Part 1, we discussed the actual history behind King Arthur and how his narrative has changed over time. Now, we’ll discuss the impact that had on the musical itself.

Arthur starts to wonder how he and Camelot, ended up here, and the show jumps into an extended flashback (really the entire musical except for the very beginning and very end is a flashback) to the day of his arranged marriage when he ran away into the forest absolutely terrified about his upcoming nuptials to a woman he’d never met.

And thus begins what I think is one of the greatest extended musical scenes in the musical theater canon (honestly, I think it would be a welcome alternative to oft-done “Bench Scene” from “Carousel” in musical theater performance classes around the world). At this point, Arthur is a young king… he’s still adjusting to his role and the pressure that comes from being “the chosen one.” He’s a young man (barely more than a boy), and he wants to be a good king and a good husband - but, as he says as part of the answer to the question of his “I Want” song (“I Wonder What The King Is Doing Tonight”), he’s scared. He’s betrothed to a princess named Guinevere, who he’s never even seen, and he doesn’t know what to do.

Suddenly a young woman comes rushing in. Arthur hides (he’s still trying to shake off the guards who are searching for him).

This young woman turns out to be Guinevere, who is also terrified at the prospect of being married to a stranger and, while en route to the castle, has also run into the woods. She sings the wonderful “Where Are The Simple Joys of Maidenhood” in which she comically but poignantly grieves for the loss of any freedom, joy, love, or excitement in her life. The song opens seriously with a prayer:

…You know how faithful and devout I am,

You must admit I’ve always been a lamb,

But Genevieve, St. Genevieve –

I won’t obey you anymore

You’ve gone a bit too far!

I won’t be bid and bargained for

Like beads at a bazaar

St. Genevieve, I’ve run away,

Eluded them and fled,

And from now on, I intend to pray

To someone else instead!

Oh Genevieve, St. Genevieve,

Where were you when my youth was sold?

Dear Genevieve, sweet Genevieve,

Shan’t I be young before I’m old?

Guinevere is definitely giving strong, intelligent, and very “Princess Jasmine” vibes from the word go.

Arthur is instantly smitten and, realizing that this is his betrothed, starts to think that married life might not be so bad after all. He reveals himself to Guinevere but, not wanting to scare her off, doesn’t tell her he’s the king. They have some phenomenal banter which is not only charming and character-developing but is a truly beautiful representation of positive masculinity – which goes MILES towards making us love Arthur.

Knowing that she is frightened, Arthur first does everything he can to put her at ease and make her feel safe (though Guinevere comically complains when she realizes he’s not going to kidnap her and carry her off as she’s desperate to be rescued from this marriage and to have a little adventure). And then Arthur does something truly beautiful.

By this point, we know he’s utterly enchanted by her and wants nothing more than to go back to the castle and get on with the wedding. But that’s clearly not what she wants. He has all the power in this situation…but he tells her that, if she wishes it, he will sneak her out of Camelot, make sure she’s taken wherever she wants to go and offers her a way out of this marriage. Guinevere is a bit taken aback – it seems she’s not used to people listening to her feelings and treating them with respect. He does, however, say that Camelot (and the king) might not be as bad as she thinks, thus beginning the title song, “Camelot” where, in an ironic dramaturgical structure, establishes “Stasis 1” of this story. Usually, “Stasis 1” is an establishment of what’s wrong with the world of the story that must change – this would be Cinderella working as a servant in her own house, Dorothy not being listened to, and “getting into trouble” in Kansas…” But the “Stasis 1” of “Camelot” is literally a happily ever after. The hook of the chorus is:

In short, there’s simply not

A more congenial spot

For happily-ever-aftering than here

In Camelot

We are starting the story in a utopia that cannot and will not last.

Suddenly the king’s guards arrive, and Arthur tries to get Guinevere out of there and off to her freedom… but before he can, the guards kneel, and the jig is up. Guinevere realizes the charming “vagabond” she’s been talking to is actually the King. Embarrassed, Arthur tells her the story of how he became king (pulling the sword from the stone) and how he feels overwhelmed by the responsibility. He then sticks to his word and tells Guinevere that he will gather transportation to take her home.

But by this point, Guinevere has fallen in love with Arthur. She stuns him when she sings a brief reprise of “Camelot” – basically saying, “I’m in”. “I want to stay.” And thus, we have one of the fastest and yet most organic and honest establishments of a romance in the musical theater canon.

Guinevere, along with Arthur, is a fully fleshed-out human being. She is beautiful, certainly, but that is far from her most important or defining characteristic (in fact, if anyone gets relegated to being the “arm candy” in this story, it’s Lancelot). Guinevere is incredibly smart, passionate, kind, and just a bit rebellious.

It is primarily because of her that Camelot becomes the great kingdom it does. She and Arthur work as a team. They love each other, complement each other and support each other. Her identity is not defined by Arthur, but rather, (for lack of a better description,) step in step with him. But Guinevere’s fatal flaw is that, deep down, she longs for crazy, passionate adventure – the kind that doesn’t care if it creates a little destruction along the way, and where she is inevitably the center of attention. Remember her “I Want” song (“Simple Joys of Maidenhood”)? Well, it goes on from that introduction (above). This is the heart of her prayer:

Where are the simple joys of maidenhood?

Where are all those adoring, daring boys?

Where’s the youth pining so for me

He leaps to death in woe for me?

Oh, where are a maiden’s simple joys?

Shan’t I have the normal life a maiden should?

Shall I never be rescued in the wood?

Shall two knights never tilt for me

And let their blood be spilt for me?

Oh, where are the simple joys of maidenhood?

Shall I not be on a pedestal,

Worshipped and competed for?

Not be carried off, or better still,

Cause a little war?

Where are the simple joys of maidenhood?

Are those dear gentle pleasures gone for good?

Shall a feud not begin for me?

Shall kith not kill their kin for me

…

Where are the simple joys of maidenhood?

It’s presented in a humorous way… Guinevere is certainly sincere in her desires, but it’s framed a bit as the slightly overly dramatic daydream of a teenage girl (not unlike Luisa’s monologue before “Much More” in “The Fantasticks”.) As we’ve seen, she quickly meets Arthur, falls in love with him, and realizes there’s a deeper, more grounded kind of love that is far more desirable. And yet…the seed of “Simple Joys of Maidenhood” never quite dies within her, and by the end of the show, she will end up getting exactly what she prayed to St. Genevieve for – discovering that it’s, in reality, a pretty horrible thing to experience or wish for.

The rest of the musical gets a lot of criticism for being far too long (and sometimes boring). There is quite a lot of musical to get through, not least of which is because Lerner and Lowe bring in a lot of other elements of Arthurian legend that don’t really have to do with the central story at the heart of this particular piece (not to mention that even a length of about three hours doesn’t provide enough time to properly tell all the aspects of the story). The Arthurian legend is EPIC, encompassing dozens of side characters and quests…each of the Knights of the Round Table is basically the hero of their own odyssey…and you have to pick and choose how many side stories you want to go on. Think of it like “The Lord of the Rings”. For the films, Peter Jackson made the smart decision to focus on the through line of Frodo and the ring. This led to the cutting of some fan-favorite moments (Tom Bombadil anyone?) But it kept the story streamlined and focused while still maintaining the work’s integrity.

Lerner and Lowe clearly wanted to focus on the love triangle aspect of the Arthurian story and how the clash between utopian ideals and human nature led to the fall of the, possibly greatest (in terms of peace and goodness) civilization the world has ever known. But periodically, a random Arthurian character will suddenly show up and have a major scene that really is only relevant if you’re a diehard Arthurian fan and know the backstory of what’s going on. There is also a tendency to lean into lengthy charm songs (such as “What Do The Simple Folk Do”) that, while lovely (and, in that example, especially poignant when placed against the subtext with which it is sung) don’t advance the plot and just slightly overstay their welcome.

So let’s focus on the central through line of the story.

Years go by. Arthur and Guinevere are very happily married and very much in love. But Arthur is frustrated at the “Might Is Right” attitude of his knights and the culture at large. During a conversation with Guinevere he has a flash of inspiration… “Might FOR Right”, not “Might IS Right”! He decides to create an entirely new system of government – one where those in power are in service of goodness and chivalry.

Disputes will be determined not by combat, but by a neutral justice system that treats everyone as equal. Knights shall be protectors of the poor and disenfranchised (Note, THIS is where the idea of a “Knight in Shining Armor” comes from. Though certainly, the defense of women (in a chivalrous, not domineering way) is an aspect, it’s based on the idea that, no matter who you are, if you’re in trouble, a brave knight will come to rescue you. Indeed, in Arthurian legend, knights not only rescued damsels but children, men, the poor, and entire towns. And part of their code of conduct was to do so in a selfless manner. They did good deeds for the sake of being good. If they did rescue a damsel it was without thought (and not for the purpose) of “winning the girl”. If a metaphor is helpful, imagine if a host of angels literally served as the police force…)

Arthur also conceives of his infamous Round Table. Typically, a king’s table was rectangular – with the king sitting at the head. In a round table, everyone is equal. The king is no more important than any of those who serve him.

Arthur’s system goes into effect and it is a wild success (though some knights are a little disgruntled that they can’t go around just taking things from people anymore). Camelot starts to attract the greatest warriors from across the land, all of whom desire to serve as one of Arthur’s knights and do good.

The most infamous of these, and the most important to this story, is Sir Lancelot. Lancelot is, quite simply, the greatest knight who ever lived. He has never lost a battle and has completely dedicated himself to God. He’s basically a living saint. In my opinion, the musical does itself no favors by leaning SO heavily into Lancelot’s personal agreement with the facts above. His entrance song is “C’est Moi” (“It’s Me” in French) with lyrics such as:

I’ve never lost in battle or game

I’m simply the best by far

When swords are crossed

‘Tis always the same

One blow and au revoir!

C’est moi! C’est moi! So adm’rably fit!

A French Prometheus unbound

And here I stand, with valour untold,

Exception’ly brave, amazingly bold,

To serve the table round

…

I’ve never strayed

From all I believe:

I’m blessed with an iron will

Had I been made

The partner of Eve

We’d be in Eden still

C’est moi! C’est moi! The angels have chose

To fight their battles below

And here I stand, as pure as a pray’r

Incredibly clean, with virtue to spare

The godliest man I know!

It’s giving pretty strong Gaston vibes and, honestly, makes him seem pretty unlikeable on first impression, which is not the most helpful choice given the role Lancelot needs to serve in the story.

Lancelot is welcomed into Camelot, quickly becoming Arthur’s best friend and greatest knight. Guinevere, however, shares my initial opinion of him (at least based on how he’s presented in the musical) and loathes him from the word go. She thinks he’s a pompous jerk, and, through the charming (but again, long) song “Then You May Take Me to the Fair” convinces the three best knights (after Lancelot) to challenge him to a joust at their upcoming fair – hoping at least one of them will knock some humility into him.

Lancelot shares a similar objective to Arthur but is framed slightly differently. Lancelot wants to be God’s servant on earth and feels the proof that he has accomplished this goal will be being named the greatest knight of the Round Table. And that declaration isn’t far off because, for all his boasting, he has the goods to back it up. When the foretold fair day comes, he easily bests the other three knights – indeed he is so strong that he accidentally kills one of them. But when that happens, Lancelot does something extraordinary. He goes to the man, holds him, prays, and quite literally brings him back from the dead.

And at that moment, Guinevere falls desperately in love with him. Though Arthur is kind, devoted, and loyal, Lancelot is everything her girlish fantasy dreams of. And Lancelot is falling for her too. The writing is on the wall, and even Arthur knows it.

Lancelot must learn that even the godliest man is still a man, and if he clings to the idea that infallibility is part of being Godly, then he will never meet the standards he’s set, and demanded, of himself. Whereas Guinevere’s tragedy comes from literally getting everything she asks for in her first song, Lancelot’s comes from discovering that nothing he said in his first song is actually true.

The rest of the story is actually pretty concise (though, again, padded out with a lot of filler.) Merlin is ensorcelled, and Arthur can’t rely on his advice anymore; Lancelot (Arthur’s best friend) and Guinevere (the love of his life) start having an affair – both horrified by what they’re doing and how they’re betraying someone they care so much about, but unable to stop themselves. Arthur doesn’t know what to do. He is deeply hurt, but he loves both Lancelot and Guinevere, so, though devastated, he basically decides to look the other way.

This offers us another beautiful example of positive masculinity – when Arthur realizes there’s “trouble in paradise” he sings (the seemingly problematically titled) “How To Handle a Woman” which features this hook:

How to handle a woman

Is to love her

Simply love her

And then…a new character appears – Mordred. If there is a physical character who is the villain of the piece (aside from the “villain” metaphorically being human nature, it is he. Mordred, in Arthurian legend, is actually a fascinating character – but in the musical we both don’t spend enough time truly delving into his history and complexity and spend too much time shoehorning the backstory of an eleventh-hour character into a story that’s barreling towards the finish line. It’s somehow too much and not enough.

In Arthurian legend, Mordred is an adult son Arthur didn’t know he had (stemming from, well, there are many versions of this part of the story, and some of them get very dark and definitely not for children…) Mordred is very much part of the “Fey” and the magical world of Avalon (part of the Celtic mythological world) and, for various reasons (again, depending on the version of the story you’re reading) wants to take Arthur down. He insinuates himself into Arthur’s court looking for a way to do just that.

And here’s where we get to the heart of what makes Camelot such a complex and moving story.

Mordred finds a gigantic loophole in Arthur’s “Might For Right” philosophy when he discovers Guinevere and Lancelot’s affair. Equality and justice are all well and good until you’re forced to deal with a personal conflict with those values. Mordred forces Arthur’s hand when he and others (he makes sure there are witnesses) catch Guinevere and Lancelot in the act and immediately has them taken away on charges of treason. In those days, it was considered high treason for a queen to cheat on her husband (and for someone who wasn’t the king to sleep with the queen) – a crime punishable by death. Lancelot escapes, but Guinevere doesn’t and this forces Arthur into an impossible situation, made all the worse by the fact that Mordred has been inciting Arthur’s knights to remember how great they had it when they didn’t care so much about being good…

See, in order for Arthur’s “Might For Right” justice system to work, he has to follow its rules just as much as everyone else – which hasn’t been a problem…until now.

If he allows his system to function as it’s meant to, Guinevere will stand trial in a fair, impartial court. That court will inevitably find her guilty – and that’s exactly what happens. There were multiple witnesses who caught her in the act. If she is guilty she is subject to the legally mandated sentence – which in this case, is to be burned at the stake. Lancelot, if he is caught, will most certainly meet the same fate. So if there is any hope of Arthur’s justice system working long-term he has to follow the will of the court without intervening. This means the woman he loves and his best friend will both die horrible deaths – which he absolutely doesn’t want.

But, if he doesn’t let Guinevere stand trial – if he steps in and uses his power as king to pardon her, or change the sentence, or change the law etc. he will have permanently undermined his own ideals. After all, what’s the point of a fair and just legal system that all are equally subject to if the King just steps in and changes the rules whenever he wants? Camelot will be over.

Arthur is slightly spared this catch-22, but he still can’t save Camelot. In the eleventh hour, Lancelot appears with an army and rescues Guinevere. Though Arthur is grateful that his wife and friend survived, he is now forced to go to war with Lancelot – a situation made all the worse by the fact that Mordred has raised his own army against Arthur – ending the peace that Camelot had established for so long and sending England back into tribal warfare. Arthur’s justice system quickly becomes a thing of the past with battles once again determining right from wrong.

My favorite part of the “Camelot” musical is the very end of the show; Arthur is sad and anxious the morning before the battle is going to begin. It’s terribly early in the morning, and he has spent the whole night pleading for Merlin’s help (which never comes) and going back through the story to see if there was anything that could have been done to prevent Camelot’s fall (which has comprised the entire musical that we’ve just seen). Suddenly he sees a young stowaway – a child around the same age that he was when he pulled the sword from the stone, who has come to Camelot with aspirations of joining the Knights of the Round Table.

Arthur realizes that the most important thing now is that people remember what they tried to do in Camelot…and what they did achieve for a time. That it must be something people still fight and strive for. He sings to the boy (in a heartbreaking altered reprise of the title song we first heard at the top of the show in a much different setting. The lyrics now are:)

Each evening, from December to December

Before you drift to sleep upon your cot

Think back on all the tales that you remember

Of Camelot

Ask every person if he’s heard the story

And tell it strong and clear if he has not

That once there was a fleeting wisp of glory

Called Camelot

Where once it never rained till after sundown

By 8 a.m. the morning fog had flown

Don’t let it be forgot that once there was a spot

For one brief shining moment

That was known as Camelot

The show ends with him telling the boy to run – run away, as far from the fighting as he can, for he must survive to be the person that makes sure the story is never forgotten.

Nowadays, “Camelot” is most often thought of as a love story. It is, but not one between “star-crossed” lovers Guinevere and Lancelot it is a love story between humanity and its ideals as metaphorically reflected by the relationship between Arthur and Guinevere. We can love something (or someone) with all our heart, with the deepest, truest, and best parts of ourselves, and yet, we are human. Our humanity makes us glorious creatures just below the angels, and the constructors of our own downfall. It is one of the best analogies to the complexities of human nature I’ve ever seen, and makes us both despair and joy in the human condition all at once.

This is a story where magic and spirituality are intimately woven into the very framework and serve as metaphors for the complex narrative, themes, and driving ideals.

Which, ironically, is exactly what was removed from the story in the Aaron Sorkin rewritten revival currently playing at Lincoln Center.

The Variety review led with:

“Aaron Sorkin’s Rethink of a Beloved Broadway Musical Loses the Magic, in Every Sense of the Word.”

Time Out:

“Camelot Returns in a Disenchanted Revival”

New York Daily News:

“A Chilly Lincoln Center ‘Camelot,’ Shorn of Love, Sex and Belief”

The New York Daily News continues:

“Just days after the assassination of John F. Kennedy in 1963, his grieving widow Jackie Kennedy quoted her late husband’s favorite Broadway musical in an interview in Life Magazine: ‘Don’t let it be forgot, that once there was a spot, for one brief shining moment, that was known as Camelot.’ This was an act of brilliant mythologizing, and it stuck: JFK’s short, tragically curtailed administration became cemented in the American mind with Arthurian legend and thus with justice, kindness, chivalry, eloquence and romance.

Had Jackie Kennedy seen the revival…now at Lincoln center…she’d hardly have chosen such a connection. This 2023 ‘Camelot’ has more the nihilistic ambiance of ‘Game of Thrones’ than an East Wing filled with art. It’s the chilliest ‘Camelot’ you ever did see…”

Variety goes on to say:

“The declared aim of (Sorkin) was to eliminate the fantastical elements in the 1960’s musical…but in its place (he) and the veteran director Bartlett Sher…jettison much of the fun, too…What remains is a cooler ‘Camelot,” with its own head-scratching dramaturgy. In making the three central characters…all tied up in emotional knots yet strangely aloof, the production’s creative team also deprives the show of much of its heart, joy and romance…Even the cherished title song…is the subject of mocking…Guinevere suggests that perhaps (the sword) Excalibur was simply loosened after so many tries, deflating the tale and turning the legend into a lucky pull…Morgan Le Fey, a sorceress in previous versions (has) been transformed here into Mordred’s unstable mom and a Middle Ages scientist.

I have not seen the Lincoln Center revival, so I can’t personally comment… but in general, the reviews seem to be largely in agreement (though I have to say, based on the pictures and footage I’ve seen I am LOVING the costume design by Jennifer Moeller who seems to have been inspired by John Waterhouse’s paintings – quite literally recreating some of his artwork in the design of the characters. Waterhouse was an English painter primarily known for embracing the Pre-Raphaelite style and focusing on depictions of women from both ancient Greek mythology and Arthurian legend. His paintings (like the Arthurian legend) strike a beautiful balance between realism and dream-like fantasy.)

There is an important discussion in the theater world right now about how much if any, changes should be made when reviving classic works. Should we acknowledge them, in a museum-like way, as products of their times and learn to “read” them in their original context? Or should we be free to take an axe to anything that doesn’t fit with modern sensibilities? On the smaller front, this may include slightly altering language that is incredibly offensive today and will likely take an audience out of the show. But in the fast-growing larger front, some productions are getting major overhauls to make them, for better or worse, more “woke” thereby actually altering pretty major aspects of the piece.

With living writers (and dead ones with legally air-tight estates) you can’t change one word of their text without permission. But what are the rules when it comes to a piece where the creators are no longer living? Is the joy (and brand name recognition) of pulling out a well-loved show worth it when, if you’re going to alter an established piece practically beyond recognition, it would honestly make more sense to just write a brand new show.

It is an important discussion - one that I think needs serious, critical thought as it is trying to balance the positive aim of making well-loved (and at this point, sometimes over 100-year-old) shows inviting to modern audiences, while running the risk of opening theater up to radical censorship.

Schools and regional theaters across the country are more and more often having their productions shut down for deciding to take it upon themselves to rewrite shows according to their whims and specifications. School districts are banning books at an alarming rate. I am nervous thinking about what the trickle-down effect might be if commercial productions start doing the same thing…after all, who is the arbiter of how a show should be rewritten to be the most appropriate? Who’s morals and ideals are we following? (Let’s also keep in mind that what’s “politically correct” today might be offensive tomorrow – I think about the example of “Sweet Transvestite” from “Rocky Horror”… at the time the show was written, “transvestite” was an appropriate term that was typically embraced by the LGBTQ+ community. Now, that term is not appropriate. We’ve changed and evolved. But many of those in the LGBTQ+ community still feel inspired and empowered by the song even though our vocabulary has moved on. Should they not?)

A hundred years from now, do we want to be left with “telephone” esque versions of shows that bare little resemblance to their original form? Where it becomes more and more difficult to reconstruct their original intentions? How do we avoid that while still welcoming in contemporary audiences who, myself included, would certainly feel jarred if certain words were being casually thrown around onstage?

But, like with “Camelot”, I don’t think we can even begin to have those kinds of conversations about a particular work until we really understand the history, context, and intentions of that work. So much has been lost along the way in terms of our understanding of “Camelot” and the fuller legend it jumps off from.

We can debate the flaws of the piece – should it be trimmed? Tightened up? Certain characters and plot points cut? But how can we even start to talk about that when a shocking majority of even those in the theater community don’t know the center of the story in the first place, and certainly don’t know its history? We must learn about our stories both in order to tell them and so that what is edifying about them is not lost. Does the musical “Camelot” do the ideal job of communicating the themes of the story of Camelot? Perhaps not. But it does communicate them to some degree, which is getting lost in a lot of noise surrounding the “telephone” ness of how we’ve come to look at this piece.

The story of Camelot is one of my favorites. The musical “Camelot”, not necessarily… but I often think of how successfully it sums up that beautiful, terribly human joy and sorrow:

Don’t let it be forgot that once there was a spot

For one brief shining moment

That was known as Camelot