Today in Pop Culture: From Murder to Broadway

By Jeffery X Martin

His name was Thomas Becket, and he was a well-respected man about town, as they say. Quick-witted, an eloquent speaker, Becket fell under the patronage of the Archbishop of Canterbury. Becket was sent to law school in France and, when he returned, he was made the Archdeacon of Canterbury.

There are lots of Arches in this story. Do try to keep up.

The Archbishop introduced to the Archdeacon to King Henry II. Becket and Henry got along smashingly. They became fast friends, and spent many hours discussing religion, politics, and playing Frogger with real frogs. Total bro stuff.

Henry had ulterior motives for becoming friends with Becket. Stupid kings. Always looking to gain power and what not. Becket was quickly named Henry’s chancellor, which is an awesome word meaning “state official.” When the Archbishop passed away, King Henry made Becket the new Archbishop.

King Henry now had his Number One Guy as the head of the Church. But Becket didn’t agree with the King’s ideas about the court’s jurisdiction over the clergy. Becket’s loyalty moved from royalty to the Church, and the King became the Archbishop’s arch-nemesis.

If you’re clever, you can guess how this ends.

Becket excommunicated all the Bishops who supported his old friend, Henry II. This infuriated the King to no end. He is reported to have said, “Who will rid me of this meddlesome priest?” Four knights, loyal to the King, shrugged and said, “I guess we will.” And they sailed to England, went to the cathedral and interrupted Becket’s evening Mass by repeatedly hitting him in the head with swords.

Bear with me. I’m making a point.

The fact that we’re even still talking about Becket’s murder (and eventual canonization) is because the events were immortalized in the play, Murder in the Cathedral, by T.S. Eliot.

T.S. Eliot was a British poet and playwright whose work entranced and infuriated his critics in the early twentieth century. Murder in the Cathedral was written entirely in verse. The first performance of the play was in 1935, and it’s never really gone away. It was broadcast live on BBC in 1936, turned into a film in 1951, and was adapted as an opera in 1958. It was also parodied on both Monty Python’s Flying Circus and SCTV.

On the whole, Eliot’s work has taken a firm hold on popular culture. Woody Allen referenced Eliot’s poem, The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock, in his film, Love and Death. Canadian band Crash Test Dummies explicitly mentions him in their song, “Afternoons and Coffeespoons.” Marlon Brando recites part of Eliot’s poem, The Hollow Men, when he finally meets Martin Sheen in Apocalypse Now. Hell, I’m in a band called Hollowmen. [How’s that for a shameless plug?]

You think Elvis is everywhere? He’s got nothing on T.S. Eliot.

And how can we forget CATS, for crying out loud? The famous Broadway musical that legitimized cosplay is based on Eliot’s Old Possum’s Book of Practical Cats.

You live in a world where, if you engage in cynicism, your world view is greatly shaped by T.S. Eliot, an unassuming poet and scholar, who wrote about the murder of a priest that happened on this date in the year of Our Lord, 1170.

That’s history, folks, time ripples that have strange and widely varied effects upon our existence and culture. Remember that the next time “Memory” pops up on your Broadway Musical internet radio station.