Shakespeare was a master of the soundbite in an era where the requirement for it didn’t exist. Some of the quotes are excellent and I think they lend themselves well to inspirational posters or would look great on a tee shirt. It isn’t all witty parry and thrust though.
I never got along with Shakespeare, and I never understand other people’s enthusiasm for it either. In a way, I see it like a royal wedding because (a) there’s always room on BBC Breakfast for a feature, (b) there’s always someone trying to sell us an over-expensive decorative plate, and (c) there’s always somebody that feels they must educate me on the finer points, thinking I don’t understand the nuances of it all – implying I’m too thick or too Northern to “get” it. “You have to evaluate it in context with social opinions and politics of the time”
“Iambic pentameter” they say. I shrug. There’s no way I could care any less than I currently do about Iambic Pentameter. Oh, hang on, yes there is a way actually – if you decide you’re going to be the one that simply must explain it to me, that might do the trick.
Yes, I enjoy writing when the mood takes me, but that doesn’t mean I see Shakespeare as the patron saint of writing. It also doesn’t mean I enjoy knowing upfront that they all die in the end, because Quentin Tarantino does it with a much better soundtrack. The nearest I got to enjoying Shakespeare was the recent BBC comedy series ‘Upstart Crow’, (starring David Mitchell as Shakespeare, and well worth a look) because it cocked a snook at old Bill himself – and his output – and much funnier than any of the comedies penned by his nibs because it’s written by Ben Elton, so you won’t need a professor of English literature to point out where all the jokes are.
What I occasionally find incredibly baffling is when directors get it in their head that they need to shift the original play into a different time or setting. I can only assume that they too think old Bill got it completely wrong, but only they know how to fix it. I remember reading a few years ago about Henry V being re-set in a modern battle setting (the Gulf), and I heard recently on Radio 4 that there was a new Othello, in which the title character is played by/as a gay black woman. So what do we get next? Hamlet Meets Ghostbusters? Macbeth vs. Scooby Doo? Although in fairness the Sharks and the Jets did manage to stick a boot up the arse of Romeo and Juliet (they all die in the end). However, West Side Story had to be quite far removed from the actual Shakespearean version in order to become watchable. So much so, that I had to have it pointed out to me before I could acknowledge the relationship (only some of them die in the end in this version).
I remember a time when I thought it might be me, just like it was with red wine. I wanted to like red wine so I occasionally tried a glass now and then until I’d developed a taste for it. It worked so I tried it with olives, and I like them too now. Although it didn’t work with beetroot. And perhaps there’s the rub (deliberate ironic misquote). At school, I used to eat beetroot. I never liked it but I had a kind of tolerance to it so I could eat it without it being a totally hateful experience. The same could be said about my relationship with Shakespeare during the same period. Occasionally I would be presented with a bit of Bill, with not a lot of choice involved. It would be directed at me and I would accept it like I accepted most things at school – it was there to be tolerated. As an adult with free choice, I never touched beetroot after I left school. Why would I? I didn’t enjoy it, and nobody was making me eat it. Years later I thought I might like it by now so I tried it again and I still didn’t like it. Years later I tried it again but the dislike had turned to detestation. So, I asked myself the question; could I develop a taste for rambling Bill from Warwickshire, like I did for olives and red wine? Or would it end up like beetroot? I tried and tried but in the end, it was beetroot all over again so now I’ve finally given up on it. I never had to force myself to enjoy Michael Crichton or the Marx Brothers or beans on toast, so why don’t I just devote my remaining time on Earth to doing things that I like?
So that’s what I do now. The things I want to try again, I will keep having a go at until it becomes clear we have no future together (that’s right, I’m talking about you mister Gym Membership). And the things I used to try because other people think is a good idea for me, I now disregard if I don’t immediately like the idea of it, or see no emotional satisfaction in it (yep, Gym Membership falls into this category too) and I suggest you do the same.
Don’t get me wrong, if you get the opportunity, try some new foods and visit new places. Say hello to strangers and try to smile at ugly babies, but there may come a time when you find yourself noticing that everyone around you is commenting on how fine the King’s new clothes are, and you alone can see that he’s actually naked. Don’t be fooled into thinking he’s had a Gok Wan makeover though, because attending a Shakespeare play is like wearing shoes that are a size too small – they may have looked great, and it all seemed like a good idea when you were in the shop, but you get most pleasure from them when you finally take them off.
Which brings me to the reason for my rant… The forthcoming VRWG Summer cultural picnic is almost upon us, and the choices available to us fall into the obvious categories; Shakespeare or not Shakespeare? That is the question. Whether ‘tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of iambic pentameter? Or to take arms against a sea of troubles and opt for Oscar Wilde instead?
I can understand that you may be persuaded to try it one more time, because when it finally ends, at least you can say to people “Well I tried it, so you can stop trying to ram it down my throat now.” And if they persist, you can return the favour and invite them to something equally terrible and abhorrent “You really should come to one of my Nazi re-enactment tea and orgy afternoon soirees some time.” and when they decline the opportunity you can point out to them that they just don’t get the subtle nuances of it all, and explain that they need to understand the politics of the time and put it in context… And of course, nobody needs to die in the end. Unless that’s what you want? In that case, you need to see a Tarantino movie instead.