Audio By Carbonatix
How else on a Saturday afternoon in November can you walk around Hollywood with a sword in one hand and a bag of kettle corn in the other, except under the auspices of something called Camelot Days Medieval Festival? Like many other fairs, or faires, with the words renaissance or medieval in the title, Camelot Days wants to transport you back to a simpler time when you can hang out with knights and gnaw turkey legs while listening to mandolins.
Medieval, of course, refers to the Middle Ages, those dark, cranky centuries after the Roman Empire disintegrated. They lasted from about the Fifth until the 14th Century. In hindsight, the entire thousand years appears to be a continuous, indistinct hell of pestilence, muck, and plague; a time when reason and science were set aside for religious zealotry. All things considered, they sound awfully familiar right now.
So why celebrate them? Renaissance fairs and medieval festivals seem less concerned with the true dynamics of sociopolitical trends than a much more generic, blissful abandonment of the complex technologies and trappings of modern times. Just think… there was once a time without rush hour traffic on I-95, when you didn’t have to ponder troubling questions like, “How many days is morally acceptable to wait before you phone up your weekend trick?” So, like Arab nations in a Bush presidential address, the Middle Ages of the Sixth Century and the Renaissance of the 16th can easily blend together and lose complex cultural nuances afforded them by in-depth historical analysis. But that’s OK. Perhaps, in a kind of retribution, the people of the 25th Century will perform their own condensation of history, dress up in tie-dyed Confederate Army uniforms and attend “Y2K Fairs” where they’ll dance the Electric Slide to Billy Holiday songs. Pay it forward, baby.
There’s an interactive theme to Camelot Days, like in one of those mystery dinner theater shows during which someone drops dead while you’re eating dessert. King Arthur welcomes you to his kingdom but, alas, the Holy Grail is missing, and you must help him find it. So when King A. greets you at the gate and hands you a list of clues, use it to seek out festival characters for schmoozing and sleuthing. Along the way, take in bawdy musical revelers and arts and crafts vendors.
The festival is brought to you by the Royal Chessmen, a 20-year-old acting troupe based in Hollywood that practices stage combat every Sunday. Why might you want to get involved with the Royal Chessmen? “Most people join to fight,” says Brad Hanafourde, a.k.a. King Arthur. “They want to fight with swords.” Of course, all weapons must be “peace-tied,” which means they must be sheathed and secured with a piece of string to make sure they can’t easily be pulled out. Not a bad idea if you happen to drink too much mead. — Dave Amber