MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING –The One With Shakespeare’s Stupidest Character

Much Ado About Nothing is many people’s favourite Shakespeare comedy, and it certainly has great potential to sparkle on stage given the right actors and energy, but for my part it has not been a play I particularly have cared for or list among my favourite comedies, though I have never really been able to pin down why –perhaps it is just that I like some of the others so much better, or identify with characters in them more than in this play where I struggle to find a sympathetic ”guide” to drag me along into this particular world and milieu.

However, upon reading it afresh I have come to appreciate it more, not least for its fine balance of comedy and drama, though I find it hard with this play in particular to get certain performances I have seen out of my mind. And this is probably because Much Ado About Nothing, more than many other Shakespeare plays (and that’s including other comedies) cries out to be performed and really only works and blooms when it does. The playfulness of the comedy, and in particular the fast exchanges between Beatrice and Benedick need to be staged to be fully enjoyed. And yet and close reading reveals the skill with which Shakespeare constructs their ripostes and allows us to appreciate more of the many puns and twists of language that he employs –which in performance frequently hurtle past us so fast that we can only just take them in before the next one whizzes towards us. And the comic dexterity here is sharp and delicious –less ornate and ”showy-offy” than in Love’s Labour’s Lost, and in no way as trite as in for instance The Merry Wives of Windsor. The comedy (and here I refer to the scenes and story between Beatrice and Benedick) is modern, instantly grasped and delightful not only to the audience/reader, but also to the other characters of the play, some of whom delight in matching these two supposed ”opposites” together.

But, and it is sometimes hard to remember, the play is not essentially about Beatrice and Benedick, even though they are the characters who everyone remembers. They are actually ”supporting characters” –but, just like in so many Hollywood romantic comedies– it is the supporting characters who steal the show. The ”main” love story of Much Ado About Nothing is between Hero and Claudio –the young sweethearts– and their path to love has to pass through far darker woods than those of Beatrice and Benedick. At times we are almost in Romeo and Juliet territory, and there are certainly strong thematic links between the two plays. And there is even more darkness here –the fascinating and hard-to-grasp character of Don John; a man who is one of Shakespeare’s absolute darkest creations –there is an unwritten play in his life story. And though he supposedly comes good in the end, I wonder…

And then we come to Dogberry…

Well, Dogberry is the stupidest character in all of Shakespeare. That’s pretty much without a doubt as far as I am concerned. I have carefully considered possible other contenders for that title and no one comes close. There are all manner of FOOLISH people in Shakespeare (and none of the ”fools” are at all stupid) –Sir Andrew Aguecheek, for instance, and plenty of gullible, clownish, naive and feeble-minded poor dears, but there are all relatively few plain STUPID characters. And what makes Dogberry particularly stupid is that he flaunts his stupidity in the guise of believing himself to be much more intelligent than he is –and primarily because as constable he has been given a position of (small) power. Stick a moron in a uniform or give them a badge and they think they’re God Almighty! One feels sure Shakespeare must have encountered such characters in his daily life, for the portrayal is wickedly funny, but one does so want to slap/smack him (Dogberry, that is, not Shakespeare). I rate it as another sign of Shakespeare’s supreme gift of universality –he fills his plays with all kinds of people, and, with a very, very few exceptions he is always fair to his characters in that he presents them honestly, no matter how important, grand, slight, flawed or, in this case, plain stupid they may be. But Dogberry’s stupidity and petty bureaucratic power-trip and failure to act almost causes tragic consequences in the central ”love plot” of the two young main characters. Without his stupidity there would be no drama, so he is thus an important character in the unfolding of the story.

Yet Dogberry is the kind of character who would puff and peacock himself precisely because I have just called him the stupidest character in all of Shakespeare. He would consider that a great honour! And Dogberry, dastardly, thick and annoying as he is is not a caricature –he just happens to be that way, poor sod! And there are such people in the world; believe me, I’ve met them!

Favourite Line:

Beatrice:
I am gone, though I am here.
(Act 4, Sc.1)
(and add most of Benedick’s speeches)

Character I would most like to play: Benedick

HENRY IV PART TWO –The One With Rumour and a Trailer!

Henry IV Part Two starts with a very intriguing, and for Shakespeare unique, prologue. The stage direction: Enter RUMOUR, painted full of tongues really says it all. This is an innovation more associated with classical, and especially Roman, theatre –a characterization of an abstract. Shakespeare has used prologues before (for example in Romeo and Juliet) and the technique will be further continued and reach its highest narrative effect in Henry V, but unlike in those plays, Rumour here makes only this one appearance, at the beginning of a play. As a theatre technique its novelty would certainly get the audience’s attention (as it does the reader), for the image is very striking, and it magnificently sets the stage for what is to come. What I particularly like, though, is that Shakespeare is clearly eager to experiment, and try new things, new ways of bringing his audience in. It’s an avantgarde device, in an otherwise narratively quite straightforward play, though –another typically shrewd Shakespeare stroke of commercial savvy – the play ends with what can only be described as a trailer –an unashamed plug for the next ”episode” –that of Henry V. This epilogue is sometimes spoken by the ”Rumour” character of the prologue, and that would seem to satisfy a desire for neatness (and economy) on the part of a director, but it is not made explicit in the text that these two speeches are given by the same character.

The play itself continues the story of Henry IV and the events leading up to his death and the accession of his son Hal to the throne, as Henry V. Like Part One, the story is both intimate and familial, with the scenes between father and son, being particularly brilliant, and sprawling on a fairly grand scale. Thus, there are family squabbles and battles, and though the play is generally darker than part one, there are numerous scenes and moments of comedy, naturally often involving Falstaff. Yet Falstaff’s comic trajectory takes a nose-dive in this play when he is rejected by the newly crowned king, and he is left a broken man. And because we have come to love this rogue, we cannot but feel a sense of sympathy with him in the final instance, even though we may equally understand the reasons the new king (Prince Hal) must shake off his ”former self” and steer away from those who have been so much a part of his youth. Or do we? Perhaps the new king is too harsh? I have always found his behaviour a little troubling, but Shakespeare is typically brilliant in creating this sometimes unsettling ambiguity in a character who would otherwise be too ”perfect” were he without flaws. I worked quite extensively on Henry/Hal’s character when I was at drama school, and always found this particular play to be the most intriguing of the three he appears in (four if you count his very brief appearance in Richard II).

Shakespeare also shows his theatrical savy by both giving us more of what we liked in Part One, and introducing enough new characters and plot moments to keep us on our toes. Some of the new characters here had actually been introduced in The Merry Wives of Windsor, so they would be quite familar already though in a different context. Justice Shallow, is perhaps my favourite, but we also get the explosive braggart Pistol, whose trajectory will continue through into Henry V. And who can forget the wonderfully named Doll Tearsheet!

Though I admit to liking Henry IV Part One somewhat more than the follow up, that is only a personal preference; both parts compliment each other and together they present a magnificent pageant of a particular time and atmosphere that is unmatched anywhere else in Shakespeare in breadth and development of myriad characters from low to high. And whereas Part One is for me a richer play, Part Two contains more individual scenes, speeches and ”moments” that astound, delight and inspire me upon re-reading it. Of the productions I have seen, I again rate the RSC’s version of the early 1990s as the best, but I have recently been quite pleased with at least large parts of the television version presented in The Hollow Crown, though, of course, I was sad about many of the cuts. I have recently acquired an earlier BBC version of both parts of Henry IV (the published version of which forms the photograph at the top of this entry), but as yet I have not had the opportunity to see it.

Favourite Line:

Falstaff
If I had a thousand sons, the first human principle I would teach them should be to forswear thin potations, and to addict themselves to sack.
(Act IV, Sc.3)

Character I would most like to play: Falstaff or Pistol

THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR –The One Requested By Queen Elizabeth!

At least that’s how the legend goes –Queen Elizabeth I was, apparently, a great fan of Falstaff and famously expressed a desire to see him in love, prompting Shakespeare to write this delightfully frothy, cheeky comedy before completing Henry IV Part Two (which again will feature Falstaff and several other characters who appear in The Merry Wives of Windsor)

Thus, it would seem Shakespeare is pandering directly to his audience, many of whom would doubtless have shared Queen Elizabeth’s wish, and what a great way to do it: Without interfering with the narrative of the historical plays in any way, he keeps it ”hot on the stove” by showing another side of its comic characters, and placing them in a suspiciously more Elizabethan world than the period of the Henry IV plays –without that really making much difference. This is Shakespeare’s first ”spin-off” play! And it’s light, bright and sharp, and wholly rewarding as a theatrical experience.

It’s also great fun to read aloud, with the opportunity to try out many different voices –for here Shakespeare has given us some really golden comic characters to sink our teeth into. And though Falstaff, as expected, dominates and is the crux and butt of the comedy, the supporting characters are no less interesting and amusing, and almost all of them could have a play unto themselves. They are each of them busily occupied with their own little strifes and concerns and pettiness in the best soap opera manner, yet brought together through various intertwining plots –at the heart of which lies the obligatory love story; in this case the wooing of the clearly very attractive and desirable Miss Page by numerous parties, both worthy and unworthy. Much of the intrigue and plot of the play is somehow connected to this endeavour.

The ”merry wives” of the title are older characters, one being Miss Page’s mother, and a great deal of the play’s comedy concerns the tricks they play on Falstaff (who is unashamedly after their money) and their own jealous husbands. But everyone seems to be playing tricks on each other in this play, or trying to get ”one-up” on a rival, and so there is much petty domestic squabbling and intrigue –which makes this play seem somehow more modern that a number other Shakespeare comedies; the people we meet are not kings and queens or even princes, but middle-class folk going about the business of living their lives, and this is reflected in that virtually the whole play is written in prose rather than verse. Thus it seems instantly more down-to-earth and accessible than some of the more refined courtly dramas of Shakespeare. Here he seems to be playing in a lighter key, allowing himself a cheeky freedom and gaiety he will not really return to in any of the plays to come. Indeed, this is perhaps the lightest and frothiest of all Shakespeare’s plays (and I don’t mean that as a criticism in any way) Though there will be more comedies to come, they will always have a touch of darkness about them (even Much Ado About Nothing has some pretty dark moments) or, increasingly, introduce elements of melancholy. In The Merry Wives of Windsor, there is none of that –but there is farce, satire, sexual innuendo, slapstick, hanky panky, scathing wit, cunning plans, arguments of words, music and folklore shenanigans –AND, I believe, Shakespeare’s only instance of a character in drag! (Falstaff has to dress as the wonderfully named ”wise woman of Brainford” in order to escape detection by a suspicious jealous husband when visiting one of the ”merry wives”)

I thoroughly enjoyed revisiting The Merry Wives of Windsor and delighted in discovering new gems in its colourful kaleidoscope of comic treasures. Many of the puns and clever twists of language are easier to appreciate when reading rather than seeing a performance when one is naturally drawn along more by all the visual information of plot, character and action. But it is primarily a play to delight in and be carried along by rather than to dwell too much on, or seek deeper meaning in, other than an appreciation of what you are presented with –skillful construction, high comedy, memorable characters, and lots and lots of fun. And I’m sure Elizabeth I must have been delighted too!

Favourite Line:

Falstaff
I cannot cog, and say thou art this and that, like a many of these lisping, hawthorn-buds that come like women in men’s apparel, and smell like Bucklersburry in simple time; I cannot; but I love thee, none but thee; and thou deserv’st it.
(Act III, Sc.3)

Character I would most like to play: Falstaff (But Ford, Doctor Caius and Sir Hugh Evans are all delightfully appealing parts too.)

HENRY IV PART 1 –The One That Introduces Falstaff

Henry IV Part One holds a special place in my Shakespeare heart as it is not only one of my absolute favourite amongst his plays, but one which I have had the good fortune to see numerous marvellous productions of, including the terrific Royal Shakespeare Company version of the early 1990s, in which Robert Stephens as Falstaff gave the finest performance I have ever seen by anyone on any stage, anywhere. And without comparing myself in any way to that aforementioned great actor, I myself have played numerous scenes from this play over the years, as Falstaff, Prince Hal and Henry the Fourth himself, and thoroughly enjoyed every moment doing so. There have also been some brilliant televised versions, most recently as part of The Hollow Crown series, and I recommend this to anyone curious about the play.

Thus, revisiting the text is both a joyful experience and a slightly dangerous one. Joyful because of memories evoked from previous encounters with the play on stage or on screen; dangerous because such memories can easily influence the impartiality of one’s reading. A colourful character like Falstaff may be seen in numerous ways, but as one reads his lines it is so very, very tempting to conjour up performances of the past. I should state, right away, that I am a huge Falstaff fan, and consider him the finest comic character ever created, so this entry will probably be more slanted to him than to any of the play’s other characters, but that is not to say they are any less interesting in their own right. Falstaff, after all, is essentially nothing more than a sidekick, the amusing supporting role, who (as is so often the case) creates such a mark that his character towers above all others in people’s minds, and leaves us wanting more, much more –fortunately, Shakespeare quickly ”got” this, and the character will appear in two more plays, including the direct sequel to this one. Here he represents one extreme –we are drawn to him much as Prince Hal is, and though we may be frequently appalled by his behaviour, we are fascinated by his audacity and sheer mastery of life and living to the full.

However, the play is titled Henry the Fourth (in nature and character the king is Falstaff’s direct opposite), and the serious action of the play concerns Henry's uneasy reign and his attempts to quell rebellion from disgruntled former allies who have now turned against him. There is a tenseness about Henry that prevails throughout, and he is both burdened with feelings of guilt about his own accession to the throne (by overthrowing Richard II), and exasperated by the seeming inadequacy of his heir, the young Prince Hal, whose happy-go-lucky, carefree lifestyle of drinking and partying with miscreants like Falstaff, is anything but what the King expects or needs from his successor. The king regards his son as a failure, a loser, and admires far more in this respect the other Henry of the play –Hotspur, the son of his main enemy who seems to embody all the traits and character that the king’s own son lacks. And really, the central conflict of the play is this personal one between father and son, rather than the grander conflict of warring factions. Thus, the play is essentially very personal and immediate, and gripping too because we are right in there seeing the king trying to hold things together in both his kingdom and his family. The ironic conceit, of course is that everyone encountering the play knows (or should know) that Prince Hal will come up to scratch and later become the most illustrious and heroic of all English Kings, Henry V, and Shakespeare drops a few hints about this here and there, and part of the brilliance of Henry IV Part One is the way Hal is suspended between the influence of Falstaff and his crowd on one side and the King and court and his duty on the other. Though both are important to him he cannot play to both masters, and it is through learning from both and choosing between them that we see him becoming the great king to be.

Aside from all this Henry IV Part One is a glorious patchwork of England at this time. The many memorable scenes in the tavern seem ageless –though nominally set in the early1400s they would be instantly recognizable to Elizabethan audiences who first saw the play, and are just as much so today –every pub has its braggarts, its gullible hangers-on, its storytellers and its pranksters. And there are plenty of memorable set-pieces, both in this tavern setting and elsewhere throughout the play. My personal favourite is Falstaff’s boasting of how he fought off an attack by two... four... seven... nine... ruffians, his lies and exaggerations growing from line to line. And anyone looking for colourful insults to add to their repertoire need look no further than the marvellously salty exchanges of name-calling between Prince Hal and Falstaff. Shakespeare must surely have enjoyed creating them as much as we delight in hearing them! (see the exchange under Favourite line(s) below for an example)

Finally, I must mention briefly two of the female characters that inhabit this otherwise very male play. Lady Percy (the wife of Hotspur) is a relatively small but memorable part, with a great speech and scene with her husband in Act II, and one almost wishes she featured more in the play. And Mistress Quickly, hostess of the Boar’s Head, makes the first of her several appearances in Shakespeare’s works. She, like the other ”regulars” of the tavern can very easily be overplayed or presented as mere bawdy caricatures, but I think there is a lot more to her than this, and intelligent productions cotton on to that without negating her comic role. She is a bit like a mother hen to all these miscreants, someone they so often take for granted, but without whom they (and the play itself) would be all the poorer.

Favourite Line(s):

Prince Hal (of Falstaff)
..this sanguine coward, this bed-presser, this horse-back-breaker, this huge hill of flesh–
Falstaff (to Prince Hal)
’Sblood, you starveling, you eel-skin, you dried neat’s-tongue, you bull’s pizzle, you stock-fish – O for breath to utter what is like thee! – you tailor’s yard, you sheath, you bow-case, you vile standing tuck!
(Act II, Sc.4)

Character I would most like to play: Falstaff (again) or Hotspur

THE MERCHANT OF VENICE –The One With the Pound of Flesh!

The Comical History of the Merchant of Venice, or Otherwise Called the Jew of Venice (as it is titled in the First Folio) is undoubtedly one of Shakespeare’s most famous plays (and among of my own personal favourites), but both it and the character of Shylock have a certain notoriety because of the unavoidable question of anti-semitism. Shylock is not a particularly big part (he’s only in a few scenes), but it’s a great part, such that it dominates the play in much the way Falstaff will in Henry IV soon after. He is undoubtedly the villain of the piece, but I don’t find the presentation of him to be narrower or unfairer than that of any other of Shakespeare’s creations. Certainly the play deals with the issue of anti-semitism, but it is seen primarily in the way Shylock is treated by many of the other characters rather than his own character –I think Shylock is a fascinating character, and to call him a caricature or stereotype is to negate the subtext of so much of his words and actions. Essentially, I think he is a very sad person, but that does not mean we have to be sympathetic to him or condone his actions.

The play is ostensibly described as a comedy, but this is an ill-fitting coat; much of the action of the play is far from comic, and the play falls more into a category best described as ”a mixed bag” –part tragedy, part comedy, part romance, but, unlike many other such unclassifiable plays, one that somehow almost always seems to work on stage. I think this is primarily because there is at its heart a really good story, or rather several stories, linked through good characters and terrific set pieces, like the choosing of the caskets and Act IV’s famous court scene. This is the first time I have actually read the whole play. Previously, I have only read extracts or worked on speeches from it, but I knew the play well nonetheless, having seen several wonderful productions, both on stage and screen. Each of these had their outstanding moments, but the best overall stage production I’ve seen was that produced at Birmingham Rep in 1997, directed by Bill Alexander. Trevor Nunn’s tired production at the Royal National Theatre in 2000 was by far the worst, but even in that the power of the story shone through. I also recall a very odd Danish production directed by Staffan Holm at Copenhagen’s Royal Theatre back in 1993 which concluded by having an enormous golden ball roll across the stage, Indiana Jones-style, while the song Mad About the Boy blared over the loudspeakers (I really must do a blog entry on bizarre and whacky innovations in Shakespeare productions!)

Favourite Line:

Lorenzo:
The man that hath no music in himself,
Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds,
Is fit for treason, stratagems and spoils.
(Act 5, Sc.1)

Character I would most like to play: Shylock (but Portia would be fun too)

KING JOHN –The One First to be Filmed!

King John (aka The Life and Death of King John) is an odd play in the Shakespeare canon. For one thing it is a history play that stands apart from all the others, not fitting neatly into the chronological sequence of the other English histories. King John’s reign was from 1199 to 1216, thus the play takes place long before the great cycle of plays starting with Richard II. Secondly, its tone is very different to many of the other histories –perhaps because Shakespeare (it is believed) based his play on the framework of an earlier anonymous play: The Troublesome Reign of John, King of England, and –with some notable exceptions– pretty much followed that play’s scene-by-scene construction; much more so than with other plays he ”adapted”. Some people believe that Shakespeare himself wrote the earlier play too and that King John as published in the First Folio is actually Shakespeare’s later, modified, version.

It is certainly very rarely performed these days, though as of May 2016 there happens to be a production directed by Trevor Nunn running in London. I have not had the opportunity to see this, or indeed ever seen a production of it. Yet in Victorian times it was one of Shakespeare’s most popular and frequently performed plays –perhaps because of the Victorians' fondness for declamatory acting (which this play lends itself to extremely well.) Its popularity at that time is probably one of the reasons it was the first Shakespeare play ever to be filmed –albeit as a short, silent adaptation– way back in 1899. I believe this may be viewed on YouTube!

In addition to most people probably never having seen the play performed, I would boldly state that very few will have read it, or know much about it, despite King John in so many ways being key to British history. Everyone knows something about him though –if only through his connection with the signing of Magna Carta (which is, perhaps surprisingly, not part of the play), or his reputation as a sneaky, slimy go-getter through his role in the story of his brother Richard the Lionheart and the Robin Hood legend. (For some reason I still always see John in my mind’s eye as the conniving, crowned big cat in the Disney cartoon!)

King John in Shakespeare’s play comes across as a hard but much more rounded character than portrayed elsewhere, but it is difficult to really ”get hold” of him as a man –certainly compared to the other great Shakespeare kings of British history who are much more open to us in revealing their inner workings. Much of the play’s language is heavier too, which makes our enjoyment of it more of a challenge than usual. Like Richard II, it is written in verse, but is frequently more obscure and less stylised than that play. The New Penguin version edited by R.L. Smallwood has the best notes and most useful commentary of the editions I have come across.

Interestingly for the histories, Shakespeare puts a character at the centre of the story who never actually existed historically: Philip (Faulconbridge) –revealed in the play as Richard the Lionheart’s bastard son. Shakespeare makes a lot of this character and gives him some wonderful lines and scenes. Just about all the other characters are historically accurate (in that they actually lived, at least), but as always, there is much compressing of time and events, and a certain amount of dramatic licence in the way scenes unfold. A great deal of the play consists of bickering –it’s a real family power struggle at heart, and though frequently vicious there is also a certain amount of humour in the constant taunting and accusing of the various parties. It lends itself somewhat to satire in this respect, but the latter part of the play has some extremely dark moments, and for me the play really comes alive in the last two acts.

Leaving the biggest impression (on me, at least) is the story of Arthur, John’s young nephew who, being the son of Prince Geoffrey (John’s older brother), is the rightful heir to the crown. He is ultimately gotten out of the way and the scene in which he pleads with Hubert of Angiers, his would-be executioner, in Act IV is one of the most poignant in all Shakespeare (it’s also a wonderful piece to do as an extract or as an exercise for two actors). In fact, the whole play is filled with potentially exciting confrontations for actors to get their teeth into, which (if they are good) may make up for the fact that the arc of the drama itself doesn’t match the greatness of style and execution of Shakepeare’s more exalted and popular history plays.

Favourite Line:

Philip the Bastard:
Mad world! Mad kings! Mad composition!
(Act 2, Sc.1)

Character I would most like to play: Hubert of Angiers

RICHARD II –The One With the Hollow Crown Speech

Though chronologically compatible with the following plays about Henry IV, Henry V, Henry VI and Richard III, Richard II stands apart from all the other historical plays because of its heightened style –something that seems to reflect the state or nature of the king himself; or, at least how he sees it: his kingship is prouder and more regal and divine than those that follow him, and initially on much stronger footing. That he is not necessarily a good king does not come into it –he is king by divine right, and the play is both a presentation of this concept as understood by Richard, and the story of his undoing. We do not see or even learn of all Richard’s reign, just the final phase, where the conflict centres around the Henry Bolingbroke’s struggle to recover his land and title after being banished, and ultimately his taking of the crown from Richard and the latter’s downfall. Essentially it is a play about these two people, whose personalities and world concepts are so very different. So, unlike the earlier sprawling tales of battle after battle and allegiances and intrigues that form the Henry VI plays, this is a much more personal piece of work, almost chamber-like in its intensity –and yet it nonetheless does take in a broader story and certain key historical moments.

It’s a fabulously well-written piece of work too. Though not my personal favourite of the history plays, I must concur that stylistically it is the finest Shakespeare wrote. I like bits of it immensely. The verse is terrific in that much of the time you are not really conscious of it being verse at all –it is seldom decorous for the sake of it, yet each line is crafted with great skill and deftness, allowing each character to come alive and shine through language that somehow seems more modern than a lot of other Shakespeare –modern in the sense that it is immediately accessible and understandable. Notes and commentary may help elucidate many minor points, but I found most of the play just leapt off the paper and came alive in my mouth as I read it –aloud of course (for this is the only way to read Shakespeare!)

Admittedly, I know the play quite well and I have performed large chunks of this it in various contexts; Richard’s personal tale in particular, which I integrated (much truncated, alas) into my one-man performance about Shakespeare’s kings. But a lot of it will be familiar even to people approaching it for the first time: much of the text is part of public consciousness, having been borrowed and used in countless political speeches and slogans, titles of books etc. It is an immensely quotable play –even for Shakespeare!

Richard is an intriguing character, and often quite a difficult one to phathom out. He starts off very arrogant and grand, and is gradually reduced to baseness, but he does goes on and on and on about his plight without ever once reflecting why he has ended up this way, and it is perhaps this quality that makes me somewhat impatient with him, Basically, he is that tiresome creature the spoilt brat whose sense of entitlement knows no bounds, nor really knows of any other way to be. We want to feel sympathy with him –occasionally perhaps we do– but he is also placed firmly at a distance from us, even in his private moments; he is never just a man, he always must be king; and here lies the tragic dimension to his character. Bolingbroke, by contrast, is much more pragmatic and straightforward; a bloke we may sympathize with for fighting for his rights, but not someone we necessarily like all that much. Whereas Richard knows or believes that the crown is something that is his by divine right, Henry has to take on the uncertain, heavy burden of kingship. And with the extra burden of guilt in having deposed his predecessor. His story will, of course, continue through the two parts of Henry IV, so for him this play is really ”Act I”, whereas for Richard the whole of Richard II is really "Act V" of his life and reign.

Apart from changing the identity of Richard’s killer, I have been very impressed with the version of the play presented in the ongoing television production The Hollow Crown –which presents and respects the language so gloriously well that even without a picture it would be more than worthwhile to experience. Some years ago there was also a television movie version that famously starred Fiona Shaw as King Richard, adding an exciting new dimension to that character. I remember that film made a great impression on me at the time. There is also an impressive BBC version with Derek Jacobi playing Richard. On stage, David Tennant probably has given the most memorable performance of the role in recent years, though about 20 years ago the pairing of Alex Jennings as Richard and Anton Lesser as Bolingbroke in a Royal Shakespeare Company’s production stands out for me as the best overall production of the play I have seen. However, I was sadly not around to see John Gielgud in the title role. Like Richard, one can’t have everything.


Favourite Line:

King Richard:
Let’s talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs;
Make dust our paper, and with rainy eyes
Write sorrow on the bosom of the earth.
(Act 3, Sc.2)

Character I would most like to play: Bolingbroke

ROMEO AND JULIET –The One With the Balcony Scene!

Romeo and Juliet is, alongside Hamlet, probably the most well-known of all Shakespeare’s plays, and for many the most rewarding and touching and eternal of the lot. Even people who supposedly know nothing about Shakespeare know this one, or bits of it, and it has been performed and adapted and re-invented in so many ways that one would think the world would somehow tire of it. But it never does. It seems to be everlasting, and eternally and profoundly popular. Perhaps not so surprising, really –it is, after all, the greatest love story of them all.

Personally though I never cared much for the play before; I found it soppy and soggy and over-elaborately decorated when I first read it (as a callow youth, too worldly for my own good!), and several equally soppy, soggy productions and versions I saw seemed to confirm this grand view of mine. It was not the Shakespeare I was attracted to when I first started to discover him, and I felt little sense of identity with anyone in the play –indeed, most of the characters I found immensely annoying. It failed to grasp me or excite me, and knowing very little about life or love or anything really at the time, I was blandly indifferent to its romance and tragedy.

And now –older and wiser– I return to it and find everything is different. It is a play that blows me away with its urgency, its poetry, its beautiful construction, its vividness and life force, and I think all in all it is one of the most sublime and riveting of all Shakespeare’s creations. I was actually quite startled by just how much I now enjoyed it and reveled in it compared with my first encounter with the text. It is a perfect companion to A Midsummer Night’s Dream (which precedes it in the chronology I am following) and seems to spring from the same well of lightness and ease of writing as that play. Here, of course, the theme is ultimately more tragic, but there is a similar urgency and beauty of writing that seems to burst from the page as you read it. And the play needs to be read (or performed) with a similar kind of urgency, even though you frequently want to stop and examine a passage or a line more closely. I think that was how I read it before and why it didn’t work for me then: I was seeing all the technique of the writing but taking in nothing of the prosody of the text as a whole. It really has to be read aloud.

As for the story, I was struck by just how much scheming there is going on. Nothing is done straightforwardly. Everyone is ”arranging” or meddling in some way, even when they are trying to help, and this ultimately brings on the tragic conclusion to the tale. The wholesome, pure romance at the play’s heart is confronted with one barrier or obstruction after the other; the young couple of the title are pushed, manipulated and drawn from each other by the people around them, and yet their love for each other is so heartbreakingly earnest and determined and yet fragile. It is a play of youth, and understandably often resonates immensely with young people experiencing similar plights, agonies and frustrations to those expressed by the characters in the play. And Shakespeare seems very much on the side of the young characters here; he is fair to the adults, but the play does not really belong to them and nor do our sympathies. The nurse is, of course, comical and harmless and rather loveable, but Friar Laurence comes across as fascinatingly dubious, and there is a whole story in him that remains untold. As there also is in Mercutio –who has some of the play’s most memorable moments and stands out as one of the strongest ”friend” characters in all of Shakespeare.

I also felt much more accomodating to Romeo’s development as a character on reading the play anew. Previously, I had found him something of a shallow and fickle character in that he so quickly forgets his previous ”love” upon seeing Juliet for the first time. Now, I see that as an acknowledgment of him realizing that what may have seemed like love before was in fact merely infatuation, and that the meeting with Juliet is on a completely different level. Juliet, though initially ”greener” emerges as the more mature of the two, but there is such a touching sweetness to the urgency and yearning of their budding relationship that one really does feel that these two were meant for each other, and would have stayed with each other for always, had not they ended up such tragic victims of events. Yet because of their tragedy, harmony and peace is restored –a sharp lesson is learned by all; and rightly so.

There have been countless fine productions and film or television versions of the play, but those that have seemed always to work best (for me) are those which embrace the essential youthfulness of the story. The theme, being so universal, is immensely adaptable to many different settings, times and environments, but versions that cast against the youthfulness at the play's heart, are far more difficult to accept, no matter how talented the performers may be.


Favourite Line:

Romeo:
”Love goes toward love as schoolboys from their books,
But love from love, toward school with heavy looks.”
(Act 2, Sc.1)

Character I would most like to play: Friar Laurence

A MIDSUMMER NIGHT’S DREAM –The One With All Those Fairies!

Well, now we come to the play that is many people’s favourite; the one that instantly puts a smile on their face when it is mentioned, that open their eyes to enchantment, and wonder, and delighted amusement. Like no other Shakespeare play it brings out the child in all of us, and it’s no surprise that it’s particularly popular with children and young people; for many of them it is their first encounter with Shakespeare, either as a text or in performance, and it’s one of the most frequently produced of all Shakespeare’s plays and somehow (magically perhaps?) almost always seems to work. You can do almost anything with it and still pull it off, as countless productions have shown. I’ve seen it played by children, by teenagers, by students, by amateur groups and by seasoned professionals; and done as high comedy, lyrical and mysterious musical pageant, puppet show and circus-like physical theatre. I’ve seen it done on a bare stage, and on incredibly elaborate sets. I’ve even seen it set on a rubbish tip! And all of these wildly diverse productions have worked, and given their audience joy and laughter and wonder and delight. Quite a feat!

When I went back to revisit the text itself I had memories of all these productions whizzing about in my head, and it was often difficult to try and examine the play objectively, as if reading it for the first time. Yet I was instantly struck by just how gloriously the words and lines flow from the page, especially after coming straight from Love’s Labour’s Lost which took so much more effort to fully understand and appreciate. With A Midsummer Night’s Dream Shakespeare really steps up a gear, and this seems to me to be a turning point in his output: the moment when his already great talent becomes truly sublime. Everything he has learned and experimented with comes together here in a perfect play: poetry, comedy, romance, construction, plot, clarity and a true grasp of theatre in all its possibilities and devices. It’s a light play –one could say it floats; yet it is never trivial. Its characters may not at first seem deep, but they are as living and memorable as any in Shakespeare. We recognize and can smile at some of them (anyone who has ever been involved in any form of theatre will have known numerous Nick Bottoms and Peter Quinces and Francis Flutes), whilst others are far from anything in our experience, except perhaps in our dreams.

Yes, there’s something for everyone here: at least three separate stories and a multitude of stories within each story, yet all held and coming together beautifully, like a delicate silk web. And I adore the poetry and imagery of the play as much as I adore the comedy and pathos of the amateur players, whose keenness makes up for their lack of talent, and who are treated much more gently in this play by their audience than the players at the end of the previous play, Love’s Labour’s Lost.

If you are new to this play then do try to see a production of it before picking up the text; let yourself be swept away by its poetry and music and delightful charm before delving into the brilliant and elegant craftsmanship of the piece more closely.


Favourite Line:

Theseus:
”His speech was like a tangled chain –nothing impaired, but all disordered.”
(Act 5, Sc.1)

And almost all of Puck’s lines

Character I would most like to play: Puck

LOVE’S LABOUR’S LOST –The One With Honorificabilitudinitatibus

And if you are wondering just what on earth ”honorificabilitudinit-atibus” is, it just happens to be longest word found in Shakespeare! A latin construction, it means ”the state of being able to accept honours”, and is uttered more or less as a joke by the character Costard the clown as an ironic counter to some of the long, long sentences of what seems like gobbledegook spoken by the pedantic schoolmaster Holofernes. The word also, apparently, is an anagram of Hi ludi, F. Baconis nati, tuiti orbi –which translates into English as ”These plays, F. Bacon’s offspring, are preserved for the world” –and thus often presented as evidence that Francis Bacon was the true writer of this and all the other plays attributed to Shakespeare. Well, let’s not get into THAT debate right now!

However, the use of honorificabilitudinitatibus does seem to me to point to the salient feature of Love’s Labour’s Lost –one that both demonstrates its uniqueness AND its weakness: its cleverness. For it is a very clever play; too clever for its own good. And by clever I don’t mean in terms of plot, because that is extremely simple, but in its use of language. It is full of playful, witty and tricky twists and turns of language, and so much so that this ultimately gets in the way of a many people’s enjoyment of the play’s genuine sentiments. It is thus an acquired taste, not a play that is digested without close attention, and it is easily dismissed as too obscure for most modern audiences unless heavily edited or adapted. It’s certainly worlds apart from the preceding play The Comedy of Errors and obviously written for a completely different audience, for much of its humour is sophisticated and elaborate, whereas the previous play relied much more on in-your-face situational and farcial comedy for its laughs.

And yet Love’s Labour’s Lost does contains some very funny scenes, and some terrific humoristic characters –including one of Shakespeare’s most interesting creations Don Adriano de Armado –the fantastical Spaniard who seems at first so outrageously over-the-top that laughing at him seems too little, but who then emerges as a character who appeals to our sympathy through his incredibly touching earnestness. A character both comic and melancholic; brash, yet tender, and totally without the cynicism that marks some of Shakespeare’s other comic characters.

Though I have come to admire and appreciate the deftness involved in its writing, I cannot say that this play is among my favourite of Shakspeare’s comedies, and reading it has taken me longer than all the others I have read up until now –simply because the language is so elaborate, and checking meanings at every other word takes away the instant enjoyment of other, more ”flowing”, works. It is a play that demands a lot of the reader/audience on a language level, especially in the comic exchanges, but let’s not forget, this is above all a romantic comedy, and it is in its romantic passages that we, today, probably find most delight. For there are some truly wonderful and beautiful reflections on romance and love and wooing to be found here, and these passages are far more accessible to us than much of the dated comic material. With A Midsummer Night’s Dream and Romeo and Juliet following this play in the chronology, Shakespeare’s mind is now clearly filled with a need and desire to examine ideas about love and romance, that find expression in such wonderfully different forms. A lost play known only by its title, Love’s Labour’s Won, may have been a continuation of this play, or a further examination of the ways of love, but that's another of those vexing Shakespeare mysteries that we shall probably never know the answer to.

I do recommend anyone wishing to tackle Love’s Labour’s Lost for the first time to read Harley Granville-Barker’s brilliant introduction to the play. His is a practical and sensible viewpoint, valuable to both reader and theatre-goer, and provides a refreshingly readable explanation of much that is obscure in the text. Some of the more academic editions have a field day with this play, with their footnotes covering more page area than the text itself, and though perhaps of interest to dedicated students, these footnotes seem often as bloated as the long-winded utterences of Holofernes himself! In conclusion: not to everybody’s taste, but fascinating nonetheless.

Favourite Line:

Berowne:
And when Love speaks, the voice of all the gods
Make heaven drowsy with the harmony.
(Act IV, Sc.3)

Character I would most like to play: Don Armado

THE COMEDY OF ERRORS –The One With the Kitchen Wench!

Actually, that’s only partly true, because though the kitchen wench figures in the play, and is drawn as vivid and memorable character as any in Shakespeare’s comedies, she doesn’t actually appear at all! Like the equally memorable (canine), Crab, in The Two Gentlemen of Verona, she is another of those exclusive characters who is merely referred to by others –in this case by the hapless Dromio of Syracuse. His description of the determined, lusty and very large maid is one of the funniest passages in all of Shakespeare, comparing her to a globe and listing the various countries her body parts form. It was actually this scene that first brought me to The Comedy of Errors, for I performed it fairly regularly 25 years ago as part of numerous ”Shakespeare Evenings” presented by my old theatre group, The Oslo Players, and it invariably provoked much delight. I then returned to the play when studying for my literature degree, as one of my chosen exam papers was on Roman Comedy –and in particular Menaechmi by Plautus –the play on which The Comedy of Errors is based. In that play there is one set of twins, with two servants; but Shakespeare develops the comedy to new levels of confusion by making the two servants twins as well! The play is thus perhaps not surprisingly the most farcial of all Shakespeare’s plays. And as it is also the shortest one in the canon and all takes place in the same location and has few props and (unusually for Shakespeare) no music, it is a play very suited to small-scale venues, tours or ”special events”. Indeed, it seems to have been performed originally for a group of law students towards the end of an evening’s programme of diverse entertainment, and no doubt went down very well. The only version I have seen was a musical adaptation developed by the RSC in the 1970s and then ”franchised out” to other producers (the one I saw was a Norwegian production). This was a joyful romp that kept pretty much everything in the play and added songs and dance to flesh out the evening. Rodgers & Hart’s musical The Boys From Syracuse was also inspired by this play.

Though farcial and light, and often therefore dismissed as a mere trifle, there is also seriousness in the play in the back story that caused the twins to be separated in the first place. At times while reading it I felt a similarity to that later, more melancholy comedy, Twelfth Night, which also deals with twins and mistaken identity. And the subject matter was not unfamiliar to Shakespeare as he himself was a father to twins (albeit not identical ones). This surely must have informed him or at least been partly on his mind when dealing with this subject so humorously. And he certainly grasped the potential for confusion and mayhem in his deft handling of the unfolding action –which has to be very precisely staged and directed for everything to work; farce is quite scientific in this way, and Shakespeare certainly knows his stuff, and what works theatrically.

I personally think this play comes earlier in the chronology than is generally listed, and believe it was possibly one of the first Shakespeare wrote. This is more something I felt instinctively upon re-reading it than having any real proof. Certainly it is an early work, both in style, language and maturity of character. But it is skillfully written too, and as the text is now surely must be the result of much trial and error on stage of what works and what doesn’t. It is trim and to the point and there is little here that can be easily cut without ruining the meticulous mechanism of the plot. It is a satisfying, fun read, but to be really enjoyable cries out to be up on stage –far more than some of Shakespeare’s other comedies which work equally well in the armchair!

Favourite Line:

Dromio of Syracuse:
As from a bear a man would run for life
So fly I from her that would be my wife.
(Act III, Sc.2)

Character I would most like to play: Dromio (both of Ephesus and Syracuse)

RICHARD III –The One With the Hump!

I’ll admit from the outset that this is one of my favourite Shakespeare plays, and one I know it quite well, having made and performed a condensed version of it some years ago. In that version, I played Richard as a kind of puppeteer –the other characters represented by pictures, dolls etc. Re-reading the play, I am again struck by how much of a manipulator or puppet-master Richard is –and by how absolutely his character dominates the play. Though many of the other characters are finely drawn by Shakespeare, they are doomed to be mere marionettes; their strings being pulled by Richard exactly as he want, and we never really get under the skin of any of them to anywhere near the same degree that we do Richard. And unlike many of the other historical plays, that have numerous sub-plots and intrigues and battles of wills, here it is really ALL about Richard and what he wants. He dominates and drives the story so absolutely, and in such a horrifically charming way, that one is hardly aware of the relative simplicity of the play’s plot. Yet it is brilliant theatre, and a brilliant study of power and intrigue. It is all about what Richard wants, and how he goes about getting it. And the great thing is that right from the start he is so honest in telling us what he is about to do –he charms the audience (or reader) as much as he charms those who he manipulates on order to attain his goals. And he is a great convincer –the wooing of Lady Anne is the most audacious wooing scene in the history of drama, yet it is contrasted by the failure of others to be equally convincing: witness Clarence’s failure to convince the men sent to kill him of sparing him –even though one of them is reluctant to go through with it. Or Buckingham’s untimely request for his reward. In this story, things are done one way: Richard’s way!

I read the play primarily as a series of ”set pieces” –the above-mentioned scenes being prime examples. Shakespeare must have hugely enjoyed writing it, because no scene seems at all forced or heavy –the lines burst from the page, and he would have known that the audiences would be expecting something extraordinary when it came to presenting such a notorious king. Baddies are always intriguing, but no other baddie in Shakespeare comes close to Richard. Or is half as fascinating. Personally, I find the most intriguing and illuminating part of the play to be the dream sequence in the last act: This has a naked rawness about it that reveals much more about the character of Richard than we have seen before –it is a man of action suddenly introspective –seeing himself for what he is. It has a very modern edge to it, and this was the part of the play I most enjoyed working on and performing when I did my condensed version. Shakespeare brilliantly puts this BEFORE the battle, so that when he starts fighting we have already seen the depths of his soul, so there is something quite pathetic about his demise, with those most famous of famous lines: ”A horse, a horse, my kingdom for a horse!”. Other than this the actual battle sequence as written is a bit of a let-down – it’s dispensed with in a mere few lines, and is far inferior to the battle scenes of some of the other history plays. It could be Shakespeare just wanting to round the story quickly (after four very long acts), but its low-keyness may be intentional: the build up to the battle is of far more concern and interest, in the same way that the fight to GET the crown is far more important than having it. Richard has nowhere to go once his goals are achieved. When I played Richard in my condensed version I chose to show this by having him literally deflate like a balloon –the final ”s” of his final ”horse” became the hiss of air escaping from a balloon as he crumpleed to the ground.
The discovery of Richard’s body a few years ago, and the campaign to prove that he was NOT the despotic, villainous king that Shakespeare created, has meant that Richard continues to intrigue us. I think whatever one’s view of the historical king, one can still enjoy the Richard of the play as a masterly creation.

I could write so much more about this play, but will save some points for my reviews of the three film versions I have been watching. One final thing though that I really, really like about this play is the way Shakespeare gives some of his most beautiful lines ever to the murderer of the young princes –the description of their death could so easily have been written in a direct, shocking or coarse way, but Shakespeare bravely makes the choice to go another way, and the passage is made all the more memorable for it. This is the work of a genius.

Favourite Line:

Richard:
My conscience hath a thousand several tongues,
And every tongue brings in a several tale,
And every tale condemns me for a villain.
(Act V, Sc.3)

Character I would most like to play: Richard (of course, of course .. !)

HENRY VI PART 1 –The One With Joan of Arc

Some academics place the writing of this play after the two other Henry VI plays, and as I am following the chronology as set out in The Oxford Shakespeare which argues this, I have now read this after the other two. And I have to say my gut feeling is to disagree with the view of the esteemed editors of that volume in terms of its chronology –I believe it was written before the others; chiefly because it seems to be very uneven in style and less mature in construction. I do agree with them in that it was probably written by several people, Shakespeare being one of them, and it is fairly easy to spot or ”feel” the different voices (or pens). Thus there are parts that are more effective and well-written than others, and the overall effect can be a bit disjointing. There are good scenes and plenty of drama, but in general the development of character is less mature than in the following two parts, which is logical considering those plays are far more likely to be the work of just one writer – our boy Shakespeare. Here though it seems to be a collaboration. It works as a whole, and is full of energy but as a play it is uneven and it is not surprisingly performed even less frequently than the other two plays about Henry the Sixth.

This is not to say it is a disaster or not worth reading –quite the contrary: early Shakespeare is some ways more rewarding to read than those great masterpieces of his mature years that are on so high a level of excellence and so skillfully written that we are not immediately aware of the craftwork. It is with the early plays that we get a sense of him at work, trying out things, learning his craft and sharpening his ever playful use of language. Henry VI Part 1 is like the work of an apprentice –but a very gifted one, who will later use things he learned and tried out here to greater effect.

There are two characters that stand out for me in the large cast of characters –Talbot, the pragmatic, loyal commander who has no time for the petty squabbles and intrigues of those who are supposedly on his side and who simply gets on with the job. The scene where his young son turns up to fight alongside him is the best scene in the play, and one of Shakespeare’s best father/son scenes. It’s brilliantly heightened by having their lines rhyme, creating a bond between them that is poetical and deeply moving. It’s almost operatic in style, and it is intriguing to wonder whether Shakespeare is putting something of his relationship with his own father in these lines. I choose to think so.

The other stand-out character is, of course, Joan La Pucelle –better known to us as Joan of Arc. She is a truly fascinating historical character in her own right and we cannot give Shakespeare credit for creating her, but her part is written with great relish and she electrifies each scene she appears in, without descending into caricature. She is clearly ”the enemy” but Shakespeare by and large presents her in a fair and sympathetic way –or rather a way that allows us to sympathize with her position Her language is that of a true warrior and most of the French nobles around her pale beside her. I found the scenes with her the most rewarding to read, and I think Shakespeare must have enjoyed writing them as they flow so easily.

Henry himself comes across in a rather wishy-washy way here –he is after all only a boy or very young man, and though the play bears his name it is more about the people around him who are all manoeuvering like mad. There is a great deal of family and inter-family squabbling, and once again it does help to have a genealogical table nearby when reading the play, just to untangle some of the relationships and alliances. Sadly, I have yet to see a full stage production of the play, though I remember fondly the English Shakespeare Company’s televised version some years ago which was part of their ”War of the Roses” project.

Favourite Line:

Sir William Lucy
O. were mine eye-balls into bullets turn’d,
That I in rage might shoot them at your faces!
(Act IV, Sc.VII)

Character I would most like to play: Talbot

TITUS ANDRONICUS –The One With That Human Pie!

...Well! –it is hard to avoid being stunned into such terseness upon completion of reading this play, one I had not previously read or seen on stage and knew only from its notorious reputation for goriness. Several times as I read it I had to put down the text because I was numbed by the horror of what I was reading, for this is Shakespeare’s most sensationally savage play, and unlike that more renowned and stylishly heightened horror piece Macbeth, Titus Andronicus has a rawness and viciousness that is fascinatingly frightening to encounter. Written at a time when there was a trend for gore and sensationalism on stage, with a killing every few minutes, this play was one of Shakespeare’s most produced in his own time and probably is one of the reasons he became so popular a writer. Because it is shockingly ”good” theatre, providing just what the audiences wanted in a horrifyingly seductive way. It works in the same way that horror films do, or roller-coasters for that matter. I’d be fascinated to know how many people have fainted during performances of it, for I’m sure the number must exceed that for any other Shakespeare play. The number of characters who snuff it is also probably one of the highest for his plays; some barely last a moment on stage. But it is the manner of the deaths that is most shocking: This is set in a harsh period of history, centuries before Shakespeare’s own time (which itself wasn’t exactly humane), but serving sons up in pies to their mother is on a whole different level, even as an act of revenge. This is just one of several gruesome scenes that so easily could descend into farce of a very black kind if not seen in the context of the whole play or dealt with very carefully in a production.

It is a dark, troubling, upsetting piece –Shakespeare’s first tragedy, and bears signs of being the work of an enthusiastic but not yet fully developed writer, but it has terrific energy amidst its rawness and a clarity of thought and dialogue that, no matter how we feel about it, makes the lines jump off the page as we read them. And there are some real gems that make us step back a moment from all the gore –like the sobering words of Titus to his brother who has just killed a fly, asking him to consider the fly’s mother and father, for their sorrow at losing a child could be as great as a man’s. This is a terrific little scene that brings in a whole new element to our viewing of the story and of our own lives. Few of us have slaughtered enemies of Rome, but who has not swatted a fly and never given it a second thought? I have always liked such moments of reflection in Shakespeare –and I’ve come to realize that he has them in almost all his plays; moments where we are taken out of the story briefly and presented with an idea, a new angle on things, and this lingers in our mind. In Henry VI Part 3, for instance, there is the speech of Henry reflecting on being a shepherd rather than a king, and this is the same sort of thing. It is part of what makes Shakespeare so great.

I find the character of Titus himself to be quite difficult to fully understand, and though I was able to follow the unfolding story of his misfortune with ease and have sympathy with him in the middle acts, he does to a certain extent bring the tragedy on himself through his treatment of the prisoners he brings back in the opening scenes –killing the eldest son of Queen Tamora, already severely pissed off at being conquered. Her lust for revenge is right up there with Queen Margaret in the previous play (Henry VI Part 3) and with such a capacity for cold-hearted viciousness she makes Lady Macbeth look like a pussy cat. Were just these two characters (Titus and Tamora) pitted against each other, it would be in a sense a fair fight, but the real tragedy of Titus Andronicus is that of the secondary characters, and none more so than Titus’ daughter Lavinia –surely one of Shakespeare’s most unfortunate characters: jilted by the Emperor; her true love killed; ravished by two men; hands cut off: tongue cut out; then finally to be stabbed and killed by her father –her story arc is nothing but woe. Though she has few lines (even when she still has her tongue), she is the human centre of the play. Famously she was played by Vivien Leigh in the 1955 RSC-production with husband Laurence Olivier playing Titus. This is by far the most well-known production of the play. There have been others, of course, but like the other Roman plays of Shakespeare it is not produced very often –its gruesomeness is not necessarily good box-office, and companies wanting to go down a bloody path tend to go for the safer (and shorter) Macbeth. Also, as an early Shakespeare play it is always going to get less attention than the works that follow. But, I stress again: it is gripping ”theatre”, even when read, so do give it a go –if you have a strong constitution.

In my next entry I shall be reviewing the 1999 film adaptation (Titus).

Favourite Line:

Lucius
Bur soft! me thinks I do digress too much,
Citing my worthless praise. O, pardon me !
For when no friends are by, men praise themselves.
(Act V, Sc.III)

Character I would most like to play: Aaron

HENRY VI PART 3 –The One With the Paper Crown

Also known as The Third Part of Henry the Sixth, with the Death of the Duke of York (Folio of 1623 title), and The True Tragedy of Richard, Duke of York, and the Death of Good King Henry the Sixth, with the whole Contention between the two houses Lancaster and York (1595 version), this play is my own favourite of the three plays about Henry VI. It’s certainly not the end of the story, because Richard III will soon follow, but it brings together lots of different threads and is in a sense a series of small dramas with no one character dominating throughout, but each having his or her ”moment” as the continuing struggle for power evolves. Thus it is an ensemble piece rather than a ”star” vehicle like Richard III. Richard himself (here still Duke of Gloucester) does steal almost every scene he is in, but it is mostly towards the end of the play that the focus shifts to him –a portent of things to come; and I am quite sure Shakespeare was already looking ahead to writing the play about his reign and looking forward to exploring this fascinating character more. Here Richard is coarser, more direct and more viscerally violent than in the play that bears his name (and where, though just as ruthless, he schemes with such deliciously evil charm). Here in Henry VI Part 3, however, we get much of the background to his character –how and why he became what he is– and quite often some of the latter scenes and speeches from this play are incorporated in productions of Richard III –the Olivier film from 1955 does this, for instance.

Act One of the play is one of the most dramatic of all the history plays, and there are some quite shocking scenes –torture, killing, taunting, and it doesn’t really stop until the end. The tone of the play is extremely grim and frantic, with the crown passing back and forth from side to side like a football, and the war causing the disintegration of moral codes and hardening of hearts as it rolls on. And as an examination of what war does to men, this play is Shakespeare’s harshest. One scene in particular stands out as a striking example of this –scene 5 in Act II, where a father who has inadvertently killed his own son and a son who has killed his own father in battle share the stage and lament, and are observed by King Henry, who is aghast at what he sees. It is one of the few scenes in the play that involves ”common” men, and must have packed as much of punch when it was originally performed as it does when we read it today; it is unusually modern, and quite outside the main line of the story, but it brings the war into instant sobering perspective, both to the king and, through him, the audience. Unfortunately, because this play is so seldom performed the scene is not very well known, but it deserves to be right up there with the best of Shakespeare.

The contrast between Henry and his wife, Queen Margaret, is stretched even further in this play than in Part 2, with Margaret’s viciousness reaching new heights and Henry’s diffidence making him touchingly sympathetic. It’s not that he does not wish to be king; he just would prefer it if the job did not come with so much trouble. And his gentleness among such harshness is curiously alluring. My second favourite scene in the play is the final confrontation between him and Richard who comes to the Tower of London to murder him. In their brief altercation lies all the differences between them, and for a moment or two Henry really shows his fire. This is a great little scene for drama students, by the way; and there are many other similar one-on-one encounters that make terrific workshop pieces. There are also some excellent speeches for both men and women that can be used for auditions. I myself have several times used Henry’s musing on how much more peaceful it would be to be a shepherd than a king (Act II, Sc. 5) for this purpose and in Shakspeare programmes.

The play certainly deserves more recognition and I thoroughly recommend reading it, though once again it does help to have a genealogical table close by to keep track of who is who. You are fortunate if you manage to catch a full production of it because when it is presented it is often an condensed version of Parts 1, 2 and 3, or 2 and 3. The English Shakespeare Company famously performed the whole cycle of history plays in the late 1980s and these were televised and issued on VHS. I hope they pop up on DVD some day as I remember being captivated by the energy of these productions, presented in a contemporary setting on a fairly bare stage which allowed the characters and words and unfolding plot to be in focus. The BBC also produced a fairly good version of this and the other Henry VI plays in their BBC TV Shakespeare series.

Favourite Lines:

Gloucester
But where the fox hath once got in his nose,
He’ll soon fins means to make the body follow.
(Act IV, Sc.7)

Warwick
Why, what is pomp, rule, reign, but earth and dust?
And live we how we can, yet die we must.
(Act V, Sc.2)

plus
All of Richard’s ”plan” speech
(Act II, Sc.2)

Character I would most like to play: Richard, Duke of Gloucester

HENRY VI PART 2 –The One With Jack Cade

The Henry VI story as told by Shakespeare has three parts. It may therefore seem odd to start with ”Part 2”, but as any fan of movie franchises will know, chronology is often played around with and sometimes focuses on the middle section of ”the big story” first. There is a sequel if the piece is successful, and then possibly a prequel. The Star Wars series, for instance, started with episodes 4,5 and 6 then went back episodes 1, 2 and 3, and has now jumped forward to episode 7. Such jumbling of narrative is not new –Shakespeare was doing it over 400 years ago. Indeed, his whole line of English historical plays seems to have evolved this way, with individual ”episodes” of quite different styles, but connected by a running storyline –that of the struggle for the crown– and with characters whose lives we follow through several plays. History always fascinates an audience, and it was no different in the 16th century; everyone knew something of the tales and exploits of the major players from past centuries, so people coming to the theatre already had some ideas about who the bad guys were, who to root for, and yet still be enthralled by the unfolding drama, event by event, episode by episode. And this is certainly true for the trilogy of Henry VI plays. However, by starting with episode two –sorry, part two, I have followed the assumed chronology of the writing of the plays, rather than the historical chronology, for it seems Shakespeare wrote parts two and three first and then went back and wrote part one. This makes more sense when one learns that Henry VI Part 2 was only given this title when it was included in the first Folio. Originally, it had the snappy title The First Part of the Contention of the Two Famous Houses of York and Lancaster with the Death of the Good Duke Humphrey –certainly a title that aptly describes its contents, but the printers probably had a fit when they tried to squeeze all that in the ”Contents” page of the collected works and brevity seems to have won the day. And these days, if you say to people that you’ve just read Shakespeare’s play The First Part of the Contention… they’ll probably look at you blankly and say that he never wrote such a play. Of course, they may well equally well look at you blankly if you say you’ve read Henry VI (parts one, two or three), because of all Shakespeare’s history plays these are probably the least known and among the least performed. And that’s a great shame because they contain many great individual scenes of tension, conflict, turmoil, argument and struggle, between great characters who really are intent on getting what they want. And these scenes work great on stage. Everyone is jostling for position, scheming and making plans because Henry VI himself is a very weak king who can’t keep those around him in check. Upon re-reading it I again and again see similarities to the great mafia films like The Godfather –the power struggle is essentially the same, and this is very much a family matter, only here its the royal family with all its branches. Most of the main characters are related in some way, and this is part of the dilemma –who has a rightful claim on the throne? The play marks the start of the whole ”War of the Roses” struggle, culminating later with Richard III, but here we get to taste and see some of the reasons behind the conflicts of that future play. But keeping track on who is who in relation to who demands a bit of work.

Though it is perfectly possible to read the play as it stands, I have found it most helpful to have a genealogical table of characters in front of me throughout. This makes it much easier to understand the relationships between the various characters and those they refer to. Shakespeare isn’t always necessarily historically accurate, of course, and he bases his play on the history books available to him at the time, but what shines through is his characterization and the way he sets up each conflict to be a miniature battle. Soap opera has taken much of its dramaturgy precisely from this form of playwriting. Some of the verbal battles of The Taming of the Shrew are further developed here, though in a much darker way than in that previous play. We have another extremely strong female character in Queen Margaret –a woman who is not to be trifled with, and whose contrast to the cautious, vacillating King Henry could not be greater. Personally, I think she is one of Shakespeare’s most riveting and unforgetable characters, certainly among the most driven. She is a sort of embryonic Lady Macbeth, just as determined but even more dangerous and vindictive.

Then we have Jack Cade, the leader of the rebels who puts in a ludicrous claim to the throne and creates havoc until quelled. The fourth act more or less belongs to him, and this ”episode” is a whole drama unto itself, with a new set of characters comprising his followers –commoners, and presented as a sort of mirror court to that of the nobility. The tone of these scenes is feisty and urgent, and though not presented as comedic in any way, some of the plays few light-hearted moments are to be found here. Jack Cade himself is a very colourful character, and one that gives actors playing him a lot of opportunity for bravado and high-charged ranting. His demise at the hands of the person whose garden he breaks into is one of my favourite scenes in the play.

The play finishes in a way that whets our appetite for more, telling us just enough about what is to come that we get hooked –very much like today’s franchise movies do. As I put the play down I found myself already reaching out for the next part, eager to know how this continuing drama would unfold. And I’m sure that was Shakespeare’s intention.

Favourite Lines:

York:
Now, York, or never, steel thy fearful thoughts
And change misdoubt to resolution;
Be that thou hop’st to be; or what thou art
Resign to death –it is not worth th’enjoying.
(Act III, Sc.9 – the whole of the long speech that starts with these lines is terrific.)

Character I would most like to play: Richard Plantagenet -Duke of York (but Jack Cade comes a very close second.)

THE TAMING OF THE SHREW -The One With the Induction

The Taming of the Shrew is one of Shakespeare’s most popular comedies and one that has fared much better over the course of time than some of the others. Much of its comedy lies in its plot and characterisation. The situation is easily grasped, and the dilemma the plays seems to pose (the battle of the sexes) is as recognizable and irrestible to audiences today as it was when it was first performed. The characters spring up from the page with gusto, and I can’t help but feeling that Shakespeare must have really enjoyed writing this because the pace is so lively and fresh, especially the exchanges between Petruchio and Katherina. These two characters stand out, of course, but I think one of the reasons the play has endured is beause of the richness of the other characters, each of whom has shining moments. I particularly sympathize with Baptista, the father of the two girls. The sub-plot of the wooing of the younger sister, Bianca is understandably less appreciated than the main plot concerning Katharina and Petruchio and suffers somewhat because these characters are less colourful and Bianca herself seems less interesting than many of Shakespeare’s other romantic young ladies.
There are some problems with the text, often stemming from discrepencies in the narrative, location, and lines for particular characters. Many of these apparently are due to the printers of the first folio (in which the play was first published) following a rather poor transcript of the original play. Thus there are numerous things that do not make sense unless edited in some way. This could be said of the the famous ”induction” sequence that starts the play, because the whole business of the Christopher Sly ”frame” peters out after a while, which seems a bit unfulfilling. As my first encounter with the play was through the 1967 film version (which dropped the induction altogether) I was very confused when I first saw it on stage and did not recognize the start at all, thinking for a while that I had walked into the wrong theatre! It seems probable that there were originally more Christopher Sly scenes throughout the play, and these have sometimes been interpolated from an earlier play called The Taming of a Shrew which was based on what is assumed to be Shakespeare's original draft! These provide a more satisfactory ”rounding-off” of the play. Of the productions I have seen about half have included the induction and half haven’t. Both ways work, but any production of the play needs to address this matter. Shakespeare never used this device again to frame his plays, though there are numerous later examples of the ”play-within a-play” idea in his subsequent work, and I think it is something that must have appealed to him. Movies, incidentally, use the same device all the time –just think of The Wizard of Oz!

When re-reading the play another thing that strikes me is the amount of insults that are flung out by the various characters, particularly Katharina and Petruchio, and without making it a scientific bet, I’d say this play contains more insults than any other by Shakespeare. And such glorious insults too, often spewing out in a fountain of abuse, such as Petruchio’s dismissal of the tailor ”..thou thread, thou thimble, / Thou yard, three-quarters, half-yard, quarter, nail,/ Thou flea, thou nit, thou winter-cricket thou!” Often the exact meanings of the insults are obscure to us, but we certainly get their drift and Shakespeare must have delighted in conjoring up colourful language for characters as volatile as those we meet here. The cut-and-thrust, confrontational badinage between Katharina and Petruchio is also rich with verbal invention and creativity –as thrilling as a fencing match. The play has been much criticised for what is claimed to be cruelty towards women –the ”taming” of the title, and certainly the treatment of Katherina by Petruchio is shocking in many ways, but her own behaviour initially leaves a lot to be desired too and one somehow feels that ultimately these two characters deserve each other. I also choose to read the ending as rather ambiguous –who exactly has been tamed here? The play starts with a jumble of dissatisfied people and ends with everyone transformed in some way but seemingly content; order has been restored. It’s an enjoyable read, but even more enjoyable when seen on stage and perfomed with gusto!

Favourite Lines:
I knew a wench married in an afternoon as she went to the garden for parsley to stuff a rabbit.
(Biondello –Act IV, Sc.4)

Petruchio:
And you, good sir. Pray have you not a daughter
Called Katherina, fair and virtuous?
Baptista:
I have a daughter, sir, called Katherina.

Character I would most like to play: Petruchio

THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA -The One With the Dog!

I first read this play 17 years ago, but it left little impression on me then. So I didn’t really have any high expectations beyond getting through the text when I started on it again earlier this week as the first Shakespeare play on my chronological reading list. To my surprise, however, revisiting it gave me a whole new appreciation of what surely must be one of Shakespeare’s most underrated works.
Though it is not certain this was the first play Shakespeare wrote it is one of the earliest and is listed first in The Oxford Shakespeare’s Complete Works as well as in many other chronologies. It has often been dismissed as the work of an inexperienced writer, a mere curiosity, an immature piece –and by some critics the worst play Shakespeare ever wrote. Well, it’s certainly not the latter; nor is it a masterpiece, but it is the work of a master testing and finding his way in his early days. And two things struck me immediately upon reading it: its lively youthfulness, and the exciting way it seems to encapsulate –in embryonic form– almost every element of what endures Shakespeare’s plays to us today: themes, techniques, plot-elements and creative use of language that later bloom in more well-known and praised plays. And it’s so exciting to experience this! The play is refreshingly uncomplicated and there is a bursting form of creativity that makes me think Shakespeare already had so much more up his sleeve when writing it, but couldn’t get it all in one play; so there are samples of many different wares here, as if Shakespeare is trying out what works best. The version of the play we have today has numerous inconsistencies in geography, time etc. and the final act especially appears very rushed with far too much going on in so few pages, but this text could well have been, as it has been suggested, a shortened version of the play that was taken out on tour. In reading it, and certainly if mounting a production, I think one has to add quite a bit oneself, because in many ways one is presented here with a skeleton that needs to be fleshed out considerably to make sense. But precisely because of this I think The Two Gentlemen of Verona is a play that suits the freedom of modern production far more than it has been afforded so far. (I myself have never seen it staged, though the Royal Shakespeare Company revived it for the first time in years in 2014). I’d also say it is a wonderful play for schools to do because it is a play about youthful issues, written with a youthful perspective and because it allows for a refreshingly broad introduction to Shakespeare’s wonderful world without being bogged down by too much prejudice and the unavoidable baggage of so many more ”worthy” plays. Besides, and perhaps most important: It is fun, it is enjoyable, it has moments of fine poetry and great comedy, music, a good but not too complicated story and easily identifiable characters who are nonetheless not stereotypical but each live and breathe as individuals, including two marvellous, strong female characters. It’s a rom-com indeed, but with an edge, and a somewhat ambiguous ending that really is open to discussion. Shakespeare is more tidy with his endings after this, but here it can go almost any way. And on top of all this, of course, The Two Gentlemen of Verona features Shakespeare’s most famous non-speaking character, Crab, the dog –who bears (I think) the distinction of being the only canine in the canon!

Favourite Lines:
For Orpheus’ lute was strung with poet’s sinews,
Whose golden touch could soften steel and stones,
Make tigers tame, and huge leviathans
Forsake unsounded deeps to dance on sands.
(Proteus –Act III, Sc.2)

O illiterate loiterer!
(Launce –Act III, Sc.1)

Character I would most like to play:
Launce