William Shakespeare is widely regarded as one of the most influential playwrights in history, and his plays have been performed and studied for centuries. From the timeless tragedy of Romeo and Juliet to the hilarious antics of A Midsummer Night’s Dream, Shakespeare’s plays continue to captivate audiences around the world. Whether you’re a fan of tragedy, comedy, or romance, there’s a Shakespeare play for everyone. So why not revisit these timeless classics and discover the magic of Shakespeare for yourself?
Regular readers know my opinion on the “Lion King is Hamlet” issue. King is killed by his brother, son must go on hero’s journey and eventually regain the crown. Boom, Hamlet. Timon and Pumbaa are kind of like Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, other than the fact that they’re his friends and not spies for the bad guy, I suppose … and Zazu is the Polonius character even though he doesn’t have any children, doesn’t end up dead… you get the idea. We focus on the facts that support our case and ignore the ones that don’t. Like politics.
Well, the bombshell from the creators this week is that Scar and Mufasa aren’t brothers. That’s not how the dynamics work in lion prides. They are not from the same gene pool. Mufasa calls Scar “brother,” this is true, but you don’t need me to cite every time a Shakespearean character calls somebody “cousin,” do you?
SPOILERS ABOUND! IF YOU’RE NOT CAUGHT UP, DO NOT READ!
Hurray! Less sex and violence!
You don’t hear that very often. But we finally get an episode that doesn’t have gratuitous people running around naked, and instead focuses on the Shakespeare. There’s a little violence, sure, but nothing like what we’ve seen before.
Last week ended with Presto setting the theatre on fire after his sister died. At first this just made me hate him even more, because I don’t care how angry he is, why is he taking it out on them? What did they do? But this week we actually get some closure on that, as he confides in Shakespeare that he was intending to just stay there and kill himself, but couldn’t go through with it.
The plot, admittedly, is a little thin. The theatre was already in financial trouble, and now that it’s half burned to the ground, Burbage sees no choice to but to sell. Shakespeare, meanwhile, has a plan. He goes straight to Emilia Bassano, our Dark Lady.
I like this character. Not only is she smart enough to see through Burbage a few weeks ago and say, “I want to talk to whoever actually wrote this sonnet,” but two seconds after meeting Alice Burbage she says, “Oh, that’s who you wrote that sonnet for.” She’s very smart. But she doesn’t come across as an emasculating presence like so often happens in these situations, where the men end up like clowns who can’t figure out the solution to a problem and need the woman to come to the rescue. In fact she informs him that she doesn’t have any money of her own to help him, so he can forget that idea.
However, while she doesn’t have any money of her own, her friends do. We meet a new character (whose name I literally cannot remember and who is not listed in the IMDB page) who requests a special performance so he can win the hand of his lady. The play? A Midsummer Night’s Dream.
<Yay!>
Against the backdrop of the most recognizable play they’ve done this far, the characters all fall into place. Shakespeare wanders around trying to think of great things to say about love. Emilia feeds him ideas, without just writing it for him. Young Burbage complains that he has to play a fairy and has to have his ego stroked by Moll, who is madly in love with him but he doesn’t see it. Kemp gets to act his ass off as Bottom. See what I did there? 🙂
The rest resolves as expected, a little too easily – cut to Burbage about to hand over the keys to his competitor, only to have Shakespeare and the gang burst onto the scene, tossing a bag of coins up on the stage to complete the transaction. Because this is movie economics, that one transaction generated the exact amount of money that Burbage needed. Nobody ever seems to ask for more, you know, for cushion. They still have expenses the next day too, you know.
Should we check in with Marlowe? I need his story to get a little better. He enlists the aid of his dark friends again because he wants to see the devil. I find this ridiculous. The major plotline of this show is that to be a Catholic is punishable by imprisonment and torture, and there’s a small army raiding houses all over town looking for any kind of evidence. But Marlowe walks up to a guy and says, “Show me the devil” and the next thing you know they’re having a pagan sacrifice. Sure, why not?
This, of course, leads to the obligatory “sell my soul” reference which gives him the idea for Dr. Faustus. Ok. Keep it moving. Once upon a time this was supposed to be about some sort of competition between Marlowe and Shakespeare for who is the greatest playwright, and Marlowe’s written nothing for all seven episodes of the show.
There’s the usual advancement of story with the other characters as well – Southwell’s printing house is raided, but he takes Alice to a baptism. Presto tries killing Topcliffe again but Shakespeare saves him, again. Apparently they’re finally friends now.
I liked a lot about this episode – mostly because it was about Shakespeare and crew and not about random sex and violence. But I hate that it wrapped up so nicely. Bardfilm is the one that called it a Deux Ex Machina, but I think he’s right. “We need money.” “Hey, here’s this new guy that’s willing to give us the money we need.” “Let’s put on a show!” It’s like the plot device of every sitcom in the 1970s.
Everything feels like it’s building toward something, which is good. I guess they’ve got 10 episodes. I’m wondering how far we get, and what resolves and what’s left open. Mostly I’m wondering if the series will do well enough to merit a season two. I even told my wife the other night, “I have to go watch my Shakespeare show. In all the years you’ve known me when have I been able to say that? Shakespeare is on tv every week. That is so many kinds of awesome.” I don’t want it to end.
I’m not a big fan of “favorites” when it comes to Shakespeare – I like to play the “that’s like picking a favorite child” card. But part of the reason for that is because every play has got some good and some bad, something to recommend and something to avoid, none of them are perfect.
So instead let’s play Moments. Doesn’t have to be a scene, or a line. I’m not interested so much in the “what” as I am in the “why”? Explain for me when, during the course of a particular play, you feel like everything hinges on this one moment? Maybe it’s just one character’s chance to do something right. Maybe it gives ultimate insight into your favorite interpretation of the character. Maybe it’s one of those lines that rockets through 400 years and hits you square in the heart like it happened 5 minutes ago.
Examples
King Lear‘s “Why is my man in the stocks?” scene. I wrote about this at length when Commonwealth Shakespeare did the play a few years back, and having rediscovered that post this scene is what gave me the idea for the post. It’s not the line that’s important. I can’t even tell you the act and scene in which it occurs. But that image of the king, who previously had people falling to their knees whenever he looked at them crossly, now being unable to get his question answered? Just does something for me. This is the unraveling.
Emilia’s confrontation of Othello. How she discovers what has happened, and how she is implicated in Desdemona’s murder? Her first thought isn’t, “How can I get out of this?” her first thought is to confront her husband. Bold move, since she has the most insight into just how dangerous he is.
On the common message board at work I posted quick thoughts on the local Romeo and Juliet this weekend, where I called it (among other things), “safe.”
“I’m curious what exactly a safe production of Romeo and Juliet is,” said a coworker in person. “Do they not die in the end?” Laughter from random overhearing coworkers.
“Nope, they definitely still die.”
“Is there still an implied teenage sex scene?”
“Yup, definitely has that.”
“And they still murder people?”
“Yes, yes they do.”
“And you call that safe? As a parent?”
“Fair point. My kids definitely gave me the, ‘Seriously, Daddy?’ look when Mercutio was writhing and grinding on the floor a few times. But everybody knows the story, it’s not like anything was a surprise. By safe I meant it was a traditional, expected interpretation. At no point did I think, “Whoa, hey, that’s different! I’ve never seen that particular interpretation of that moment before!”
“Ohhhh,” said he, “You meant it wasn’t avant-garde.”
So I immediately sent him this picture from Slings & Arrows as the first thing that comes to mind when somebody mentions an avant-garde Romeo and Juliet:
What is Shakespeare’s fascination with three hours? I was at Romeo and Juliet this weekend and this stood out to me:
Ah, poor my lord, what tongue shall smooth thy name,
When I, thy three-hours wife, have mangled it?
Because I thought, “Hmm, that’s interesting because clearly they’ve been married more than three hours so it’s like she’s using that as just a generic term for some length of time. Kind of like how Hamlet does it, doesn’t he?” Actually, I was off on that one:
how cheerfully my mother looks, and father died within these two hours.
Then I thought about that one about, “Better three hours too soon than a minute too late,” from Merry Wives of Windsor. So I got to wondering just how often he used this expression. As it turns out, quite a lot. Some of them could even be literal (such as “the length of time after supper and before bedtime”) but surely not all of them.
Comedies
All’s Well That Ends Well
Ten o’clock: within these threehours ’twill be
time enough to go home.
Love’s Labour’s Lost
And then, to sleep but threehours in the night,
And not be seen to wink of all the day—
A Midsummer Night’s Dream
what dances shall we have,
To wear away this long age of threehours
Between our after-supper and bed-time?
Twelfth Night
Ay, madam, well; for I was bred and born
Not threehours‘ travel from this very place.
Tragedies
Coriolanus
Within these threehours, Tullus,
Alone I fought in your Corioli walls,
And made what work I pleased:
Romeo and Juliet (again)
Now must I to the monument alone;
Within threehours will fair Juliet wake:
Histories
Henry VI Part 1
More than threehours the fight continued;
Where valiant Talbot above human thought
Enacted wonders with his sword and lance:
Romance
Cymbeline
I have read threehours then: mine eyes are weak:
The Tempest
My father
Is hard at study; pray now, rest yourself;
He’s safe for these threehours.
How thou hast met us here, who threehours since
Were wreck’d upon this shore;
What is this maid with whom thou wast at play?
Your eld’st acquaintance cannot be threehours: