It’s not the same, but there are similarites. Same Hamlet, same director, and two other common actors including myself. This time I’ll be playing Barnardo, Guildenstern, and First Gravedigger. The rest of the cast — I’m happy to report — are very capable, intelligent, exciting, and talented actors.

We’re taking extra time to have a better cut of the script (thank goodness!). There are plenty of changes to add lines in, take others out, taking choices from a Quarto instead of the Folio and vice versa. It’ll be a little longer, but not by much. This Hamlet will still be fast and furious.

Our new challenge is to do the show in a small space. Before we played in a wide open amphitheater for a crowd of a couple hundred. Now we play in a blackbox theater with around 40 seats. I’m very interested in the differences between the acting style needed for large vs. small spaces. Perhaps certain moments/lines/scenes play better when they are more intimate. On the other hand, quickly paced and action scenes (swordfights?) probably play much easier (and more safely) on a larger stage.

More to come on this soon. We’ve been having really great discussions in our first few table work extravaganzas, so I’ll be picking and choosing some food for thought to share with you, my esteemed readers. Stay tuned for that later this week.

Until then, I’d love to hear your thoughts, questions, and comments on playing Shakespeare on a large stage vs. intimate setting. Discuss!

But the rest of the article chooses not to report on the challenges of staging a play in a dialect or examples of how differences in dialect in equally-talented and trained actors can yield different readings and interpretations of text. Instead, there are a few comments about Nunn’s statement,

“…it is almost certainly true that today’s American accent is closer to the sounds that Shakespeare heard when he was writing.”

You can read the article to see what Professor Stanley Wells has to say about it.

I want to talk about the above quote. It is a common (what I believe to be) misconception that American English is more like Shakespeare’s than British English. Firstly, there are several dialects of English in both the US and UK that vary a great deal from each other. If we’re talking about the perceived “standard” dialect from each country (General/Standard American and British RP/BBC English) I still don’t think American English is any more closely related to Shakespeare’s speech.

English, regardless of where it is being spoken, has been evolving for over 400 years since Shakespeare began writing for the theatre. Language and its dialects change a great deal, especially among super-social societies. There are certainly parts of the US and UK whose dialects have evolved more slowly due to isolation over the past centuries, but there has still been 400 years of dialect evolution.

Perhaps the misconception comes from the idea that British RP is an “invented dialect.” Even so, American English pronunciation has been heavily influenced by our friends across the pond. Remember all those movie stars from the 1930s? Theatre, Film, and Radio in the US had a notably “British” sound for a long time.

So you see why I disagree with Trevor Nunn when he says it is “almost certainly true” that American English is closer to Elizabethan English than modern British English.

David Crystal, world renowned linguist and co-author of Shakespeare’s Words, has done a lot of research on what Shakespeare’s English may have sounded like back in the day. His book, Pronouncing Shakespeare: The Globe Experiment, tells the process of researching this and using the pronunciation in a production! You can also hear David Crystal reading of Sonnet #1 in “Original Pronunciation.” Listen, then decide whether you think modern American or British English “is closer to the sounds that Shakespeare heard when he was writing.”

• Twelfth Night. All male. On a Submarine. At Christmas. No lie.
• The Tempest performed literally on an island. Spectators on the mainland.
• King Lear performed in a latrine. Mad king on a pissoir.
• Richard III in a Wyoming corral for horses.
• Romeo & Juliet in a Nevada bordello.
• R&J performed as if in wasteland on huge articulated truck. Ms as Raj, Cs – medieval knights. Underscored throughout on keyboard.
• a very literal RSC prod of Richard III. “Winter of our discontent” – snow fell; “glorious summer” – sun shone.

Leave a comment if you have others! It’s always fun to see the crazy things people do with their “new and exciting interpretations!”

I happen to be involved in a production of Richard III with a new spin on it, I’ll let you know more about it — and audience reactions after it opens next week. It might turn out to be a hit, who knows? There’s a fine line between fine art and fine turd, no?

When learning to act Shakespeare (or any classical and poetic texts for that matter) there are often rules we are taught. That is, if you are taught by anyone who has had some real Shakespearience. Rules like observing the scansion, speaking to the end of the though, breathing only at the end of a verse line, having good diction, pronouncing words a certain way. The rules are never exactly the same depending on who you ask, but there are always rules.

I once heard from an actor that he felt limited by the “rules of Shakespeare.” He said it was something like acting inside a box because he had to follow so many rules that his own creative process felt muffled.

This was a good observation and I’m sure that many actors feel this way. So before we talk about breaking the rules, let’s talk very briefly about what the rules are for.

(If you’re new here, I discuss many of the rules and some of their significance in the Speaking Shakespeare section and a few in more specific detail in my dissection of the “Speak the Speech” speech.)

The rules of verse speaking make up a form. Sort of like the rules of a game of sports. If people are playing by different rules, we get lost. I’m reminded of an account of a game played several decades ago of between a group of Baseball-playing Americans and Cricket-playing Brits. When the end the game arrived, both sides claimed the victory.

A better example would be the form of opera singing. Regardless of how you feel about opera, it has an undeniable set of rules that make up the form. The way a singer produces sound and phrases pieces of music have been practiced over many years of instruction. If an opera features a soloist who only had a rock-music background their performance would fall flat. They’d be unable to communicate the proper sounds that the audience expects.

The rules work similarly in Shakespeare, but are perhaps less limiting than those of opera. The form of Shakespeare is inexorably linked to its content. You might even say Form=Content. This means that the way the verse is structured and composed has a heck of a lot to do with what the character is communicating. I could write a whole book on the subject but that’s not what I’m talking about now. In the end, it’s all about communicating the story to the audience. When the rules aren’t followed the story becomes opaque to the listener.

Recently I heard an actor in conversation (on the merits of verse) with a director say something to the effect of, “I don’t see the scansion stuff as rules to follow, maybe just a tool you can choose to use. I heard about opera singer who said she would rather hit a note a little flat or sharp than only concentrate on getting the notes exactly right.” A terrible paraphrasing of what was said, I’m sure, but you get the gist of it.

It’s an attractive thought for one who doesn’t understand the form to find an excuse not to use it. What’s wrong with the above statement? The actor forgets that the opera singer has already mastered his/her form. The rules are not the alpha and the omega of the art, but just as every skyscraper has a steel frame, so must every creative artist have some form — however invisible — guiding their work.

The opera singer has already spent years being able to hit every note on the correct pitch with the correct rhythms so that performances can be done with ease. Without thinking about hitting the right notes. What they can think about instead is conveying the meaning and emotional content behind the music. So if they happen to go sharp or flat, it is because they have much more behind their performance than just hitting the notes. Because this opera singer has mastered her form, she can afford to bend the rules.

The actor who felt like he was “acting in a box” did not throw away the rules even though they felt constricting. Once the rules are learned, practiced, enforced, and finally mastered, there are infinite possibilities.

Form will set you free.

Why do you think greats like John Gielgud, Laurence Olivier, Judi Dench, Ian McKellen, Kenneth Branagh are so great at what they do? Not because they bend or break the rules. But because they have mastered them. The guidelines they learned have nearly become instinct and they are free to be free above the super-solid foundation they stand upon. This is the place where you are able to act outside the box. Not because you threw it away, but because you used it.

To deny the form is to say that you know better than the aforementioned brilliant actors who have had a lifetime of experience. The form doesn’t change, though the way it is expressed does. The foundation will remain the same, but what you build on top of it will be unique to you and the time you live in. So remember, because it is worth repeating:

Form will set you free.

There was a lot that was unusual about this performance. Unusual, that is, if you’re theatre-going experiences have been limited to mostly high-budget, indoor, full length, late evening performances. This play began at 6pm in an outdoor amphitheatre, no set, minimal props, costumes out of the actors’ closets, was a one-night-only event, and ran no more than one hour and forty minutes, sans intermission.

That’s right. We did Hamlet in less than 100 minutes. How? We cut. A lot. Now let’s not turn this into a discussion of the blasphemies of cutting so much text out of a play or how it’s not the play as Shakespeare intended. That’s not what I want you to take away from my telling of my experience.

The play was, among other things, lots of fun. Both for the actors (all eleven of us) and for the audience — of which there were a few hundred. As you may have surmised, we took a very bare-essentials approach to the play. It moved very quickly. The story not only moved quickly because of the cuts, but we aimed for a fairly fast pace as well. Our goal was to tell a good story before the sun set. I think we did that much.

It really brought to my attention that there isn’t a whole lot that is necessary for good theatre. Theatrical philosophy texts often repeat the fact that theatre consists of at least a space, a performer and a spectator. We had no fancy proscenium to hide behind. We were outdoors. No electrical lights, we used the sun. No sound system, but we had a guitarist and the chiming of a nearby clock tower. No microphones. The costumes consisted of articles of clothing in our closets. Nothing fancy, just something to suggest the character.

And it worked! If the story is good (and it is) why confound the play with bells and whistles? I talked with some audience members after the show, many of whom were actors too, and were very impressed with what they had just seen. I don’t think most of the people there really expected a bare-bones production of a heavily reduced script in an outdoor daylit location to be as good as it was. I don’t think I expected it either, to be quite frank. Having all talented actors was a a great bonus and we all worked hard, but we didn’t know what the outcome would be.

I had done a fairly bare-bones production outdoors before, but we had digital sound system for playing music, as well as an intermission. We didn’t have a whole lot, but it felt much less of a bare-essentials type of set up.

After this Hamlet, both actors and audience learned a great deal about what theatre is and what it needs and more about what it doesn’t need. We take for granted sometimes the things we have available to us and what is really most important when producing art.

Even so, I would still prefer to have a dressing room.

Despite being labeled as fools they are actually the wisest characters in the canon. These are characters whose job it is to entertain. Court jesters who are not to be taken seriously, even though they often speak quite wisely.

The more pity, that fools may not speak wisely what wise men do foolishly.
– Touchstone, As You Like It, I.2

But they often speak the most true, don’t they? Anyone else that would dare to say the things that Lear’s fool does would be killed.

FOOL. That lord that counsell’d thee
To give away thy land,
Come place him here by me,
Do thou for him stand.
The sweet and bitter fool
Will presently appear:
The one in motley here,
The other found out there.
LEAR. Dost thou call me fool, boy?
FOOL. All thy other titles thou hast given away, that thou wast born with.
KENT. This is not altogether fool, my lord.
- King Lear, I.4

The power these characters have with words is wonderful and sometimes astounding. The Groucho and Chico Marx of Shakespeare’s time.

FESTE. Good madonna, why mourn’st thou?
OLIVIA. Good fool, for my brother’s death.
FESTE. I think his soul is in hell, madonna.
OLIVIA. I know his soul is in heaven, fool.
FESTE. The more fool, madonna, to mourn for your brother’s soul, being in heaven.
- Twelfth Night, I.5

Feste would make a great lawyer with that kind of rhetoric. He’d convince the jury that THEY were guilty. But he probably doesn’t think that highly of his own wordly talents. After all,

Better a witty fool than a foolish wit.

I hope you all had a foolish day!

Which of Shakespeare’s characters do you most identify with? Why?

Shakespeare wrote nearly 1000 named roles, large and small, comic and tragic, king and servant, rich and poor. With so many to choose from, it’s a tough choice. But with so many characters and in so many situation, everyone’s bound to have one.

And why do you identify with this character? If you’re an actor, could you play this part? Would you like to? Don’t all just say Hamlet, back it up!

If you can’t think of one just yet, start off with which character would you most like to play onstage (whether you’re an actor or not). Who’s head do you want to get into?

I’m very interested to hear what you think of yourself based on who you choose. Ask your friends too! Get them to join in the comments. Or just ask in a conversation. If they say they’re most like Macbeth you might want to look for a new friend.

What if Shakespeare’s works never existed or didn’t survive? Who would we be reading/acting/studying?

We have John Heminges and Henry Condell to thank for Shakespeare’s prominence in literature in drama around the world today. All because of the Folio they published. But what if none of that had happened? Which of Shakespeare’s contemporaries would hold the spotlight today?

Who would students be complaining about studying instead? Johnson? Marlowe? Fletcher? Beaumont? Would we have Middleton festival theatres around the world? Or none of these? Maybe we’d have a list of the top three Elizabethan poets. Might society today instead look past Elizabethan and Jacobean drama and study Dryden instead? Or maybe later still all the way to George Bernard Shaw. Who knows?

It could make for an interesting episode of The Twilight Zone.

Who is responsible for Romeo and Juliet’s deaths?

Don’t forget to back up your answer with a strong argument. Was it Friar Lawrence who created the plan to fake Juliet’s death? Was it their parents’ for their feud? Was it Romeo who was too quick to judge? Was it the entire city of Mantua for locking their gates to the messenger with the letter to Romeo? Or perhaps it was the Prologue who revealed the end at the beginning, and the characters naturally can’t stray from what he has to say.

I have a feeling it was Colonel Mustard, but I’ll put my two cents in a little later. Let’s get the ball rolling with an answer to the question…. Whodunnit?

A friend brought to my attention that their facts page has the climax of the story in an unexpected place. The plot structure listings are odd to me. What do you think?

RISING ACTION · Macbeth and Banquo’s encounter with the witches initiates both conflicts; Lady Macbeth’s speeches goad Macbeth into murdering Duncan and seizing the crown.

CLIMAX · Macbeth’s murder of Duncan in Act II represents the point of no return, after which Macbeth is forced to continue butchering his subjects to avoid the consequences of his crime.

FALLING ACTION · Macbeth’s increasingly brutal murders (of Duncan’s servants, Banquo, Lady Macduff and her son); Macbeth’s second meeting with the witches; Macbeth’s final confrontation with Macduff and the opposing armies

So the climax of the play is in Act II… and then there are three acts of falling action? Shakespeare knew better than that!

A simplistic way to look at the plot structure in a tragedy is that the protagonist gets closer and closer to their objective as the story progresses until the climax (in a comedy the protagonist gets pushed further away from their goal until the climax). By that model, the climax of Macbeth is the fight between Macduff and the Scottish King.

And I don’t think that “Macbeth is forced to continue butchering his subjects to avoid the consequences of his crime” at all. He continues murdering so that he can ensure his royal position, not primarily to avoid the consequences of his first murder.

I sent an message about this by clicking on the “Report an Error” link at the bottom of the Macbeth facts page. You should too! We don’t want faulty information on such a widely used resource.

So, Sparknotes, please fix this! Mr. Shakespeare was not silly enough to have a play with over half of it as falling action.

Remember to keep your eye out for things like this. You can’t always trust what’s published online or even in print.

Student’s essays on this play will be a little different from now on, won’t they?