On September 15, 2012, I told Katy, “I think we should read all of Shakespeare’s plays.” Katy, little gem that she is, enthusiastically replied, “I like this idea!” The rest is history, as this blog details.
Some fun facts about our one year of Shakespeare:
We have read 22 plays. This translates to about 64,782 lines and 496,626 words, depending on each text’s editor.
We have also read 8 sonnets. This, obviously, translates to 112lines.
We have had 24 meetings.
We have written 39 posts on this blog, ranging from simple summaries to meeting reflections to critical analyses to theater reviews.
All of us are still excited to read the rest!
Isn’t that crazy? To be honest, the year has gone by so fast. Plays we read last November seem recent to me, and I can hardly believe we’re over halfway through the canon. This project began as a rather daunting journey, but the traveling companions have made all the difference.
Thank you to those who have read, commented on, and “liked” our posts. We hope you’re enjoying our discoveries as much as we are!
Now is the winter of our discontent
Made glorious summer by this son of York;
And all the clouds that loured upon our house
In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.
Richard III, I.i.1-4
I love the first line of this play. The whole first monologue is fairly brilliant, but something about that first line that just hits me. If I had to take a guess, I would say I can’t get over its (potential) incompleteness: it could be a complete thought and sentence in and of itself, and that’s the way I usually use it.
“How are you doing, Whitney?”
“Now is the winter of our discontent.”
My friends, as you might guess, love talking to me when I’m in a dour mood.
A late 18th century sketch of Richard III, probably by Charles Grignion
Richard, of course, doesn’t stop there. “Now” is not when the winter of our discontent is happening; “now” is when it has been turned into summer, and a glorious summer at that! Yet I can’t shake the uneasy feeling that Shakespeare is messing around with me. Is it really turned summer? Is everything really alright now? ‘Cause to be honest, Will, this entire play seems like a very long, dark, rainy season.
I’ve titled this post with a line from one of William Faulkner’s novels (a line most recently popularized in the Woody Allen film Midnight in Paris and in the subsequent lawsuit initiated by the group that owns William Faulkner’s words) because this reading of Richard III brought my attention to the play’s recent past. The past is not dead in this story. From the first sentence, the past is oppressively present. We cannot avoid it because the characters cannot forget it. Read over that first monologue again. Richard makes comment after comment about what things are like “now” compared to how they were just a little while ago; and then he laments how awful “now” is; and then he determines what he’s going to do to make “now” a bit more like “then.”
The symbols of the houses of Lancaster (red) and York (white)
This recent past is dominated by the Wars of the Roses (which aren’t quite over yet, but they don’t know that). Our reading group hasn’t gone over the Henry VI sequence yet, and I originally regretted my choice to read this one first, but, upon reflection, I think those three might have desensitized me to the enduring presence of the war in Richard III. Richard begins the play by talking about the war, and he’s not the only one with it on his mind. He woos a new wife over the dead body of her father-in-law as she “lament[s]/Th’untimely fall of virtuous Lancaster” in the war (I.ii.3-4). Queen Margaret shows up in the next scene to haunt all of the Yorkists for the deaths of her husband and son. Soon George, Duke of Clarence, dreams about telling stories of “a thousand heavy times/During the wars of York and Lancaster” with Richard (I.iv.14-15). To put it another way, Clarence is thinking about talking about the past. Maybe I’m the unusual one here, but if I have dreams about the past, they’re actually about the past. Clearly, the war is over and done with only in the royal annals.
Queen Margaret, who lost her kingly husband and princely son to the white roses, particularly works hard to keep alive the memory of the old regime and the violence that brought in the new. Though deposed, she still considers herself the queen (I.iii.156). No forgive-and-forget for this royal lady: she creeps in every so often to rain down curses upon the rosy victors. These curses come to represent the continuing influence of the war even to those that are not as scarred by it as Margaret is. Whenever another character falls to the wrath of Richard, he remembers Margaret’s curses and acknowledges the justice of his fate as punishment for war crimes. As Sir Thomas Vaughan, Earl Rivers, and Lord Grey go off to execution, Grey interprets it as “Margaret’s curse… fall’n upon our heads/For standing by when Richard stabbed her son [Prince Edward of Lancaster]” (III.iii.14-15). The Duke of Buckingham similarly laments “Margaret’s curse fall[ing] heavy on my neck,” and he adds that the day of his death is in fact the very day he invited destruction upon himself if he were ever “False to [Edward’s] children and his wife’s allies,” a crime committed not during the wars but in the peace process (V.i.25,15). Again, Shakespeare presents these declarations in a fairly matter-of-fact tone, but I imagine that someone being persecuted and killed by a tyrant would normally be angry and bitter. These people, however, are plagued by a guilty conscience, and they feel guilty because of their role in the recent wars.
The Battle of Tewkesbury, where Henry VI and his son Edward were killed
The most remarkable effect of the past conflict on present events is how Richard uses it as an unspoken exhortation to follow him. People who have just gone through an intense period of violence want few things more than to maintain peace. The usurper knows this, and so he frames his arguments and deceptions in a way that makes his ascension look like the best way to avoid another war. He starts a rumor that his brother Clarence will kill Edward’s heirs, creating another potential dynastic struggle. He convinces the public that Edward’s sons are either too young—and even ordinary people cry, “Woe to that land that’s governed by a child!” (II.iii.11)—or illegitimate, which would open another free-for-all over the crown. He explains his executions by pointing to the “peace of England and our persons’ safety” because a safe king is a stable king (III.v.43). He tells the former Queen Elizabeth that giving him her daughter in marriage will ensure “fair England’s peace” (IV.iv.274). The irony here is that Richard, while talking so much about keeping England’s peace, actually creates a more volatile situation with every step. We can see his growing desperation in Act IV, Scene ii, as he admits the stupidity of killing a girl’s brothers and then asking to marry her: “I am in/So far in blood that sin will pluck on [incite] sin” (65-66).
The scrivener in Act III, Scene vi, explains that everyone knows what’s going on yet no one is brave enough to speak up. People think that Richard’s violence is nothing compared to what may happen if he or other noble persons are provoked. The heroes of the story, on the other hand, are willing to risk danger and even war in order to create real, enduring peace. These characters, I believe, triumph because they refuse to let fear of the past influence their current decisions. Lord Stanley risks his own life and his son’s in order to aid Richmond, and Elizabeth does the same in order to give Richmond the unassailable claim to the throne he needs in the form of her daughter’s hand. Knowing as they do how quick the king is to murder children, both of these people must swallow a great deal of doubt. Richmond especially displays wisdom in how he handles the past: he stands for the value of rightness over peace at a time when many officials in Richard’s government have been compromising justice and morality for the sake of non-violence. He perceives that it is not worth it, and in fact illogical, to endure horror now in order to avoid the horrors of the past and that a “harvest of perpetual peace” may come from “one bloody trial of sharp war” (V.ii.15-16).
The past literally haunts both Richmond and Richard in Act V, Scene v, in the form of the ghosts of Richard’s victims, who bless one and curse the other. There seems to be no freedom from the past for England, no matter who wins. Rather, the past catches up to Richard as each of his murder victims recounts the crime and orders him to “Despair and die” (for example, V.v.80). They allude to the past with Richmond, too, by asking him to avenge their deaths, but they introduce a concept that we haven’t seen much of yet: the future. “Live, and beget a happy race of kings!” whisper Richard’s nephews (V.v.106). As Richmond, now King Henry VII, delivers the final speech of the play, he reflects the same synthesis of the past, present, and future. In stark contrast to Richard’s opening monologue, Henry’s closing words reflect on the past only to look forward to what’s coming next:
England hath long been mad, and scarred herself;
The brother blindly shed the brother’s blood;
The father rashly slaughtered his own son;
The son, compelled, been butcher to the sire;
[…]
O now let Richmond and Elizabeth,
The true succeeders of each royal house,
By God’s fair ordinance conjoin together,
And let their heirs—God, if his will be so—
Enrich the time to come with smooth-faced peace,
With smiling plenty, and fair prosperous days.
Abate the edge of traitors, gracious Lord,
That would reduce theses bloody days again
And make poor England weep forth streams of blood. (V.viii.23-26,29-37)
What a change from Richard’s introduction! No more “lascivious” immorality, but now England enjoys “God’s fair ordinance” of marital bliss (I.i.13, V.viii.31). Henry talks about the new “smooth faced peace” eagerly, unlike Richard’s yearning for the old “Grim-visaged war”(V.viii.33, I.i.9). Richard hates his “fair well-spoken days,” yet Henry rejoices in the coming “fair prosperous days” (I.i.29, V.viii.34). England, with its past in tow but also in proper perspective, fully embraces “now”: “Now civil wounds are stopped; peace lives again” (V.viii.40).
Our group has become quite fond of watching clips from the BBC’s Horrible Histories when we read the history plays. They’re quick, informative, and entertaining! Here is some background on the War of the Roses as well as a song from Richard redeeming himself.
Congratulations, Shakespeare! You finally nailed the Aristotelian unities! Not that I’m really bothered when Shakespeare diverges from the unities, but this play was short, simple and sweet. Well, the sweet is actually debatable.
At the start of our discussion, Liz expressed that she felt like every person in this play is a horrible person. I don’t know if that’s entirely true, but Antipholus of Ephesus does beat his servant and cheat on his wife, Adriana can be flat-out obnoxious, and Egeon is a definite downer.
Commedia Masks
I believe this play has to be read and observed with knowledge of its Commedia dell’arte influence. Commedia dell’arte always included stock characters that were really caricatures of certain personality types. The personalities of these characters were enhanced and amplified by masks worn by the actors, as well as certain props and consumes. The commedia character of Arlechinno is the farcical servant who is usually gets himself into a comical situation as a result of a mistake (or multiple mistakes). The Dromios of The Comedy of Errors would be inspired by this character. Antipholus of Ephesus seems to have more influence from Capitano, a captain who is usually full of himself, while Antipholus of Syracuse might be more influenced by the commedia character Flavio, who was more of a romantic lover. Without a doubt, Doctor Pinch is inspired by Dottore, the quack doctor. All of these are just examples of very strong, exaggerated characters and commedia, and they influenced the characters of The Comedy of Errors. This exaggeration enhances the humor and ridiculousness of the comedic situations in which the characters find themselves.
The Comedy of Errors – RSC at the Roundhouse, London
The shortest of Shakespeare’s plays, The Comedy of Errors is also one of his simplest. Though wrought with misidentity and mistakes, the audience should not have too difficult a time following the story, especially since it is one of the few plays in which Shakespeare obeyed the Aristotelian unities of plot, location, and time. Certainly the characters have quite the time of it! You would think Antipholus of Syracuse (a twin), who set out with his servant (who is also a twin) would figure out a bit more quickly that he has arrived in the same town as his long-lost twin brother when all of the townspeople, whom he has never met before, believe to know him. Should I ever direct the production, I would stage scenes where he and Dromio of Syracuse are on the edge of figuring it out, just when they are interrupted or swept away by a new situation.
I was personally very confused throughout the whole play because I assumed Antipholus and Dromio of Ephesus knew they were twins. Why weren’t they catching on? It was only in the final scene that we learn of the Ephesus twins’ separation from their mother and ignorance of their origin. Again, if I ever direct this play, I would pantomime that whole situation at the start: launch the play with a huge storm scene, show Egeon being separated from Emelia, and also show Emelia’s separation from her Antipholus and Dromio. Then, during Egeon’s retelling of the tale, the audience would understand that Egeon is unaware of their separation form Emelia. In this way, the audience knows that the second pair of twins (the Ephesus twins) are unaware of their identity. Egeon’s retelling could easily be made into a comical scene so that the audience does not see the exact same pantomime twice.
Okay, so maybe calling this play short, simple, and sweet isn’t the best description. Certainly, “simple” may be taking things a bit to far. It does have its sweet moments and a few gem characters who aren’t so miserable. As for my third claim, despite it’s complexity, The Comedy of Errors is short!
After reading Antony and Cleopatra I could not help but think of this play as a grown-up version of Romeo and Juliet, something like Romeo and Juliet is to The CW as Antony and Cleopatra is to HBO. The tragedy ofAntony and Cleopatra takes a more mature but no less dramatic look at the popular topics of loyalty, deception, politics, power, and, of course, love. Just as the “love/lust” between Romeo and Juliet is popularly questioned, we questioned the love/lust between Antony, one of the top military officers of Rome, and Cleopatra, the mysterious and enchanting queen of Egypt.
Hans Altweis and Amy Thone in Seattle Shakespear’s 2012
On the one side we have Antony, who appears to be completely infatuated and mesmerized with Cleopatra. It is hard to blame the guy, after all it is said of Cleopatra that
Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale
Her infinite variety. Other women cloy
The appetites they feed, but she makes hungry
Where most she satisfies. For vilest things
Become themselves in her, that the holy priests
Bless her when she is riggish.
The lucky Antony has Cleopatra and the chemistry between the two is incredibly palpable. However, when Antony leaves her side and returns to Rome, we see a switch in his personality. Emotion and pleasure no longer seem to rule him, but rather reason, logic, and strategy guide his decisions. He makes a sound, strategic move by agreeing to marry Octavia, Caesar’s sister, to appease Caesar and protect Rome from potential war. However, poor Antony cannot resist his captivating lover, Cleo, and not long after his wedding, he lets his love/lust lead the way back to Egypt. Later on, we see Antony make a similar decision by letting his love/lust reside over his reliable military prowess. During battle Cleopatra turns her ships around, and Antony makes a huge political gaffe and strategic blunder by following her lead. Then when Cleopatra fakes her death, Antony once again follows after her and kills himself. In our discussion, we did not come to a solid conclusion of whether he was simply infatuated or truly in love with the exotic queen, but the changes in his personality, I think, show a greater genuineness for the feelings he had for Cleopatra.
Kathryn Hunter and Darrell D’ Silva in the RSC’s 2010 production directed by Michael Boyd. Photograph by Ellie Kutz.
Which brings me to our capricious queen, who I would argue is one of Shakespeare’s most intriguing characters. She holds a lot of power and influence and knows it. Her capricious and dramatic nature kept me engaged, and my fingers at-the-ready to flip to the next page. Even so, we wondered how much she really loved Antony. Was her relationship with him ultimately a plan to attain more power? It is hard to believe Cleopatra was not testing Antony when she ordered her ships to leave his side in battle. No matter what her intentions were, she definitely learns that her Roman soldier is willing to risk a tremendous amount to be with her (foreshadowing!). When she decides to fake her death, it is then hard to believe she would not think him capable of following after her. Her intentions are under high suspect. I even think a strong argument could be made that Cleopatra contributes the most to Antony’s downfall, even more than Caesar (depends on how the actors play it, I guess).
When Cleopatra does decide to kill herself (the famous asp scene) it seemed to us that her motivations were more to protect her reputation and avoid the humiliation she would face from Caesar and the Roman Empire than for the love she claims to harbor for Antony. But if we look back at that moment, she calls out for Antony. Does she shout for her lover in fear for her impending death, out of guilt, for love, or all of those emotions together? If she does die for him, does she wish to take it back in that last line she is unable to finish? Do any of these reasons give us more insight into her relationship with Antony? Yes, and it all depends on the choices the actors performing the play make. I found myself believing she did not truly love him, but then the romantic in me was left dissatisfied. Similarly, as with Romeo and Juliet, I want to believe in the sanctity of the unlikely couple’s love. The debate for both couples continues, and the unashamed gossiping of who loves who is all part of why these dramas are so entertaining.
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What's in a Play? 