One of the many achievements of Ira Glass’s This American Life is that it is a longform approach to storytelling, whether personal or reportorial. By not dumbing down, by not sound-biting, it has become one of the most acclaimed and honored radio programs of this generation, and has turned Glass himself into a well-recognized individual, both by voice and face. As a purveyor of subtlety, nuance, compassion and depth, Glass has connected with a significant community that is desirous of something greater than the clamor of most of what we consume in the media.

So I was very disappointed to discover these tweets this morning:

If there had been only a single tweet dissing Shakespeare, I might have let it pass. But the fact that Glass doubled down makes it worthy of comment. That holds true even if Glass isn’t particularly skilled at Twitter, and didn’t realize that his tweet to John Lithgow was a public message, instead of a private missive. But with his more than 83,000 Twitter followers, and his position as an influential figure in the media, it’s worth taking a moment to respond to what Glass wrote.

I hope that, had it not been 12:15 am, Glass might have realized that perhaps what he wanted to say was, “I, Ira Glass, don’t like Shakespeare. I don’t find his work relatable.” That’s a Twitter-friendly message, and while it’s one which might surprise me, it’s one with which I couldn’t quibble. He could have simply added “IMHO” (that’s “In My Humble Opinion” in social media speak).

I should share that, like many who go to the theatre a great deal, I have a level of Shakespeare fatigue, especially with the parade of Macbeths and Lears we’ve had in New York over the past few years. But, the fatigue for me is play by play; I don’t think anything would keep me from a reasonable diet of well-done Much Ados and Twelfth Nights, such is the pleasure I find in those plays.

Clarke Peters & John Lithgow in King Lear (photo: Joan Marcus)

I’ve never studied Shakespeare in any structured way, so it would be very difficult for me to make the intellectual and educational argument on behalf of the Bard. But there are literally thousands of books and professors and even autodidacts who would happily do so, and I have a strong suspicion that Glass is going to be hearing from them as today wears on.

I’ll just take a moment to suggest that, perhaps, Glass doesn’t fully understand, smart as he certainly is, the difference between a play and a production. Shakespeare provides the words of what he’s seen, but each interpretation varies. Perhaps he hasn’t seen Shakespeare productions that illuminate the words in ways that speak directly to him. Trust me, I know that there are plenty of those. That said, maybe he’ll never like any of the plays, no matter how they’re done. Never ever.

Mark Rylance as Richard III

I haven’t seen Lithgow’s Lear yet (it just started performances last week, by the way) and to be honest, if it weren’t for John (and for Jessica Hecht), I doubt I’d be going. I liked The Globe Theatre’s Twelfth Night with Mark Rylance rather well, though I didn’t care for the Richard III. But the fact is, I’d really be perfectly content to not see Richard III ever again. I don’t care for the play, an opinion forged over many productions, but I certainly don’t dismiss it. I’d look very foolish if I did.

Don’t think I’m trying to make the case for Shakespeare all the time. Our theatres need much more variety, even if school curriculums insure steady group sales for Shakespeare productions, and even if the lack of royalty costs makes them slightly more economical (balanced to some degree by their cast size, though I’ve seen the plays done on occasion with casts as small as five). It’s just that this sweeping generalization from someone who seems such advocate of the arts – and of considered thought and messaging – strikes me unfortunate, since it reinforces the prejudices of others, and even justifies them.

Look I get it, we all don’t like the same things, and frankly, when we’re told it’s good for us, we’re probably even less inclined to like something. We might also be hype-averse, from being told something is the best ever, part of the common online lexicon these days, but also the opinion of many when it comes to Shakespeare. And no matter what the build-up, no matter how much exposure we do or don’t get, there are creative endeavors we each don’t like, for whatever reason. Irrevocably. And that’s O.K.

I will ceaselessly defend Ira Glass’s right to publicly and vocally dislike Shakespeare. But as someone whose voice is amplified and respected, I just wish he’d said that he was sharing his opinion, not declaring an absolute.

Addendum, July 28, 5:45 pm: I just learned that Ira Glass was asked by Entertainment Weekly whether he stands by last night’s anti-Shakespeare tweets. His response: “That was kind of an off-the-cuff thing to say that in the cold light of day, I’m not sure I can defend at all.” So why say anything at all, Ira? He has not, however, sent any further tweets at this point on the subject to suggest that he might have been off the mark.

Rylance’s Richard III

When it comes to Shakespeare, not all plays are created equal. That’s far from a surprise to anyone who pays attention; Hamlet certainly ranks far ahead of King John in the canon, and even Coriolanus and Timon of Athens get more attention than Pericles. A great deal of this situation in recent years, at least in the U.S., is attributable to the educational curriculum, which has a strong hand in creating the “greatest hits.” The hierarchy is also a product of performers’ aspirations, and I daresay that when asked what Shakespeare roles they’d like to play, actors respond more frequently with Lear and Rosalind than Henry VIII and the Countess of Roussillon.

Rylance in Twelfth Night

The choices for the current Shakespeare plays in repertory on Broadway are among the more familiar titles, but they take on novelty for being all-male casts and indeed for being in rotating rep. Had it not been for the coincidence of a competing rep of Waiting For Godot and No Man’s Land in the same season, the Shakespeares would have been the only shows in rep on Broadway since the mid-90s. A key selling point in the Shakespeare rep is actor Mark Rylance, playing Olivia in Twelfth Night (or Twelfe Night as they’re spelling it in ads) and the title role in King Richard The Third.  After his triumphs in Boeing Boeing, La Bête and Jerusalem, one suspects the audiences would flock to anything Rylance chose to perform, except perhaps those poems he reads as award acceptance speeches.

The January calendar of Twelfth Night and Richard III

So while it’s hardly the discovery of a shocking secret, I was surprised today to discover that the Shakespeare rep doesn’t treat its productions as equals: in general there are six weekly performances of Twelfth Night and only two of Richard III. The producers (and perhaps Mr. Rylance) have decided that the market will bear plenty of comedy and not so much tragedy, with the added bonus that Stephen Fry appears only in the comedy, and for some of us, he’s a big draw too. They also may be saving a few dollars by making fewer set changeovers, since labor costs money.

I can’t say that I wouldn’t have lobbied for the same balance, if I’d had a say in the matter. I happen to have a great love for Twelfth Night, due to it having been the first play I worked on when I started at Hartford Stage in 1985. As for Richard III, even though I’ve seen terrific productions with Ian McKellen and Richard Thomas, among others, I always feel a bit lost in the constant realignment of loyalties throughout the play, and I rarely walk away having had an emotional experience, even as I might appreciate the talent on stage. Indeed, my college roommate, who has been my Shakespeare wingman for some three decades, was befuddled when I refused to see Richard III at BAM last year; I just didn’t feel like it and he wasn’t going to change my mind (he took his mother-in-law). By the way, I should note I have not yet seen the current Broadway shows.

Shakespeare scholars and Rylance buffs may be dismayed to learn of this programming imbalance. The former might not cotton to the elevation of a comedy over a history, but the latter may just be realizing that if they wish to be Rylance completists, they’d better hustle up on getting tickets, because the Richard III inventory is much scarcer than the seats for Twelfth Night.  As for whether there’s a deeper meaning to favoring one play over the other beyond gauging the marketplace, I leave that for the academics to debate.

P.S. Waiting for Godot and No Man’s Land each play four shows a week. Make of that, you should pardon the expression, What You Will.

This year’s cinematic Romeo and Juliet

Oh, please. The headline is not a spoiler. More than 400 years after the play was written, “young doomed love” is the Romeo and Juliet brand, and I suspect that most anyone coming to see something with that title on it would actually be disappointed with a happy ending. True, they did such things in the 1800s, but it proved a passing phase.

Odds are that those kooky kids from Verona are dying somewhere in the world every night. However, movies about them, while not infrequent, only come along every so often. The newest appeared this past weekend and made a spectacular belly flop at the box office, averaging just over $1,100 per theatre, meaning that based on the average U.S. movie ticket price from 2012, about 136 people saw it per theatre between Friday and Sunday. A dud by any other name would smell as bad.

Some will say the film died due to lack of stars: Hallie Steinfeld was impeccable in True Grit but she didn’t become a teen queen as a result; Douglas Booth was entirely unknown to me, as were his prior film and TV credits. Ed Westwick brought some Gossip Girl capital as Tybalt, but apparently not enough; fine actors such as Damian Lewis, Stellan Skarsgard, Natascha McElhone and Paul Giamatti have been in some great movies, but no one buys tickets for R & J to see the adults, do they?

The fact is, while staying true to the R & J brand in storyline, period design and almost all things, the film’s producer and creator failed to attend to one of the world’s most powerful brands: William Shakespeare.  That’s why their film seemed a folly as soon as we started hearing snippets of airy language that sounded old-timey but not Shakespearean in the trailers, and accelerated when screenwriter Julian Fellowes, ostensibly promoting the film, pompously informed us mere mortals that most people can’t understand Shakespeare and that thanks to his own highly expensive education, he was well suited to dumb down old Will for the rest of us. Yes, this new R & J offered up the sure-fire marketing lure of simplified language for all the dolts who like their Shakespeare de-caf.

A Klingon Shakespeare buff

To be fair, only a handful of countries of the world actually hear Shakespeare in its original language; he is a foreign playwright on most continents and so we don’t know what is actually being spoken in countless productions. His stories take priority, not the precise words. This gives weight to a brilliant joke in Star Trek VI when an alien character urges that Shakespeare is best heard “in the original Klingon.”  But it is an act of perversity to translate Shakespeare from English to English, one even odder than English language operas in North America that still feel compelled to provide supertitles.

I’ll be the first to acknowledge that the Shakespeare brand carries a mixed message. On the one hand: greatest playwright in history, profound insights, timeless plots, stunning language. On the other: the language does in fact stun some people into incomprehension, and years of bad English teachers and ill-advised productions have made Shakespeare seem a daunting experience for so many who might enjoy his work if they weren’t so afraid of it.

I am not Shakespeare, nor was meant to be.

Even though this new R & J film wasn’t a studio production, it summons visions of pitch meetings out of What Makes Sammy Run: “I’m giving you the straight dope. Shakespeare – great story man, little wordy though, language a little dusty. Here’s what we do: we keep absolutely everything that makes his stuff sell year after century, but we put it in language everyone can understand. But let’s keep it British. Maybe we can get that Downton Abbey guy to do a rewrite.”

The result was a product which tried to exploit the Shakespeare brand at the same time as it was draining it of its appeal. For people who find the word Shakespeare daunting, just the mention of his name can be a a turn-off; for those whose hearts flutter when they hear it, bowdlerizing the language eliminates any interest in seeing it. That’s not to suggest that reinventions of Shakespeare aren’t fair game: it’s been done in everything from Joe Macbeth to West Side Story to 10 Things I Hate About You. Even Sons of Anarchy is rooted in Hamlet. Heck, in Washington DC, there’s the Synetic Theatre, which is acclaimed for wordless Shakespeare. But Synetic isn’t foolish enough to sell their work as the same old Will and just get by with a program insert saying,” At this evening’s performance, the actors will be mute.”

I’m no Shakespeare scholar any more than I am a movie box office prognosticator, but having seen two stage Romeo and Juliets in the past two weeks, I admit to schadenfreude at the film’s failure, since it was such a foolish business move from the moment Fellowes’ agent got the call (surely after Tom Stoppard fell over laughing) and because I could have called it the moment that first trailer came to light. Our lovers will live to die another day on stage and screen; the IBDB alerts me to a Romeo and Juliet in Harlem due out next year. Using the original language. As for this version, its failure is no tragedy – and certainly not a Shakespearean one.

With three Romeo and Juliet productions currently underway in New York – on Broadway, Off-Broadway at Classic Stage Company and a return engagement of the company 3 Day Hangover‘s decidedly non-traditional depiction – and a new film version due out this coming Friday, it seems time to inaugurate “Pop Goes Shakespeare,” which might just as easily be called “Shakespeare Goes Pop.” Whatever your preference, my plan, in this Shakespeare-heavy NYC theatre season, is just to periodically ramble through an array of Shakespearean adaptations and appropriations in film, TV and music. You can expect my entries on Troilus and Cressida and Timon of Athens to be exceptionally brief.

Considering there’s already rumblings among the purists about the admittedly peculiar decision by the new Romeo and Juliet film to have Downton Abbey‘s Julian Fellowes rewrite true Shakespeare into faux Shakespeare, it seems worthwhile to note how many different ways the Bard has already been retooled, rebooted and revised. Yet the couple always seems to survive to die another day.

Marketing for a 1930s film version, directed by George Cukor, with Leslie Howard, Norma Shearer and John Barrymore, went in for the hard sell – but was a bit cautious about any of that off-putting dialogue slipping out:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5D6BxQwYQ4I

An authoritative voice-over and giant fonts ruled again in 1954 when Laurence Harvey (pre-Manchurian Candidate) played Romeo opposite British actress Susan Shentall as Juliet. She was apparently so successful in the role that she never appeared on screen again (and hadn’t appeared before this either):

In the tumult of 1968, as Vietnam raged and hippies sprang into full flower, Franco Zeffirelli’s classical take on the story, with 15 year old Olivia Hussey as the 14 year old Juliet, found favor with audiences. It didn’t hurt that, as both Tom Lehrer and Stephen Sondheim advised, it had “a tune you can hum” that made the pop charts. But here’s a sonnet:

Another youth oriented take came in 1996, when Baz Luhrman lent his hyperkinetic style to a modern day version of the story, with youthful Claire Danes (pre-CIA duty) and Leonardo DiCaprio (pre-iceberg) as our hero and heroine.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gjxHdNxvySU

Want to get the kiddoes started on the Bard early? You might like some of the anthropomorphized animal versions of R & J. Perhaps you’d enjoy the story as puppy love, with seal pups, in the unfortunately titled Romeo and Juliet: Sealed With a Kiss:

Or if you can’t watch animated seals without worrying about the fate of real ones, perhaps you’d prefer the story set among garden gnomes (which are in no way endangered, so relax), accompanied by songs from Sir Elton John, and voiced by James MacAvoy and Emily Blunt:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yPQyg8XtGsw

Turning to more adult versions, there’s the inevitable ultra low-budget zombified version of the story, Romeo and Juliet vs. The Living Dead:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Sj27pNtnB2Q

The lunatics at Troma Films, the auteurs behind The Toxic Avenger films, manipulated the story to their own warped ends for Tromeo and Juliet:

Oh, and if you’ve ever been hungry for a martial arts/gangster interpretation, perhaps you aren’t familiar with the oeuvre of Jet Li and the late singer Aaliyah, who bonded in a film with the spoilery title Romeo Must Die in 2000:

On stage, while Tom Stoppard offered up truncated texts of Hamlet and Macbeth, Romeo and Juliet had to settle for my friends at the Reduced Shakespeare Company, who travestied the romance in a version that, by their standards, is rather long. It took two videos to include it all. Get on the ball, guys!

Musicians have been inspired by the romance of R & J, even into the rock era, although it was really just the names that were invoked rather than the story itself. Dire Straits’ version of a modern pair of lovers has become a standard, yielding numerous covers. Here are two takes: the original from Mark Knopfler and the boys, as well as Amy Ray performing the more muscular Indigo Girls version.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QkfotbNqQgw

If Dire Straits’ street song serenade is too soft for you, then turn to Lou Reed’s tribute to the lovers in near apocalyptic 1980s NYC:

Too harsh? Then let’s shift back to the 1950s, for something infectious from The Reflections, about a couple who are “Just Like Romeo and Juliet.”

And gosh darn it: looks like that cutie Taylor Swift had to read Romeo and Juliet in school, leading her to write “Love Story.” It appears, however, that she never finished the play, since her retelling is a wholly happy one. The video director may not have read the play either – the art direction makes the story more like a cross between Pride and Prejudice and Wuthering Heights. But changing the period is done all the time in full versions, so I shouldn’t kvetch.

Many accounts of the current Broadway Romeo, Orlando Bloom, take note his modern, hip costuming, so one can’t help but imagine that director David Leveaux shares my affection for the minor hit “No Myth” by Michael Penn and its refrain, “What if I was Romeo in black jeans? What if I was Heathcliff, it’s no myth.”

I’d like to cap off our tribute to the doomed duo on a classy note, with a selection from Elvis Costello’s collaboration with the classical Brodsky Quartet, “The Juliet Letters,” suggested by the many young women who to this day leave letters for Juliet in present day Verona. This is one of my favorites from the album, “Taking My Life In Your Hands.”

P.S. What about West Side Story, I hear you cry. Yes, we all know it was suggested by Romeo and Juliet. I didn’t think you needed a reminder.

I’m unable to see a Shakespeare play without thinking of my late mother.

“How sweet,” you think, “He and his mother must have shared many great evenings together watching Shakespeare. Their common love of the Bard transcends her passing.”

Unfortunately, that’s not the case. I think of my mom, an elementary school teacher by training, whenever I’m headed to a Shakespeare production because, for the 23 years I lived in her house, I heard the same thing every time I was en route to see one of Bill’s plays.

“Did you read the story first?”

One of many editions of Charles & Mary Lamb’s “Tales From Shakespeare”

My mother was convinced that the only way to fully appreciate Shakespeare, because of the dense and archaic language, was to read a detailed plot synopsis immediately prior to seeing one of his plays. Specifically, she meant for me to pull down her copy of Charles and Mary Lamb’s Tales From Shakespeare from the living room shelves. Far predating such study guides as Cliff’s Notes, the Lamb book was originally written in 1807; my mom’s edition probably dated from the 1930s or 40s and was a tool in her own Shakespeare studies, such as they were.

I resisted my mother’s advice on a consistent basis, perhaps because I found Tales to be stodgy and unreadable on its own, or perhaps I was just being intellectually cocky. She never quite understood how I could see Shakespeare plays without this essential crutch. But my appreciation of theatre always seemed innate, rather than inspired by my parents, so this was simply one more example of how different we were from each other.

Ultimately, I learned about Shakespeare by seeing the plays over and over again, with an assist from the standard high school curriculum (including Romeo and Juliet and Macbeth). I remember being required to memorize Mark Antony’s funeral oration from Julius Caesar; perhaps there were a few other speeches I had to commit to memory as class work (though, oddly, today I most remember Coleridge’s “Rime of the Ancient Mariner”).

My greatest training in Shakespeare came during my eight and half years as p.r. director at Hartford Stage, which gave me to opportunity to see and discuss the plays with Mark Lamos, the artistic director, who is most responsible for what Shakespeare knowledge I may have. During my tenure, we produced Twelfth Night, Pericles, Hamlet, A Midsummer Night’s Dream, Julius Caesar and All’s Well That Ends Well; I’ve also seen productions of Measure for Measure, Cymbeline, As You Like It, Romeo and Juliet and Richard III directed by Mark. I’ve seen countless Shakespeare productions, but Mark was my true guide – beginning when I was 23 years old – immeasurably aided by my access to seeing the former group of plays multiple times in a short span.

Ken Ludwig’s book title says it all

I was reminded of all of this as read through the newly published How To Teach Shakespeare To Your Children (Crown Publishing, $25) by playwright Ken Ludwig, author of such plays as Lend Me A Tenor and Moon Over Buffalo.  Much as I’ve enjoyed Ludwig’s farces, I was mildly skeptical of his skills as a Shakespeare teacher, but in point of fact his book is exactly what its title says, a cogent, chapter by chapter study guide designed to empower parents to familiarize their children with Shakespeare’s language. Ludwig fundamentally believes in the primacy of Shakespeare’s work and words, so much so that he makes his case for parents teaching Shakespeare to their kids in only seven pages of the 314 page book, with memorization of key speeches as his touchstone. The rest is process.

Not having children, I can’t test Ludwig’s theories and conduct my own experiments. But surely he’s not alone in his belief in the value of memorization as introduction, as attested to by countless adorable YouTube videos of toddlers stumbling through Henry V’s speech before the battle at Agincourt and the like; an often viewed clip of Brian Cox teaching Hamlet to a youngster is a particularly delightful example. Though to be fair, the children on YouTube are younger than Ludwig’s suggested starting age of about six years, and surely the age should vary – if one wishes to embark on the Ludwig method – based upon the nature of each individual child.

As astute as Ludwig’s lessons are, I can’t help but think that they’re actually a stealth method of teaching Shakespeare to parents. Surely my mother might have grown more comfortable with the (to her) impenetrable language that got in the way of the stories; indeed, Ludwig’s book is focused more on moments from Shakespeare than with the plots themselves. A parent who doesn’t know, in particular, Hamlet, Midsummer and Twelfth Night might need a separate book to familiarize themselves with plots and cursory analysis before launching into the Ludwig method, besides reading the plays themselves.  If parents need to be eased into Shakespeare, they may want to use one of the countless graphic novel versions, an alternative study method apart from more didactic texts and the original scripts.  And there are countless imaginative films spanning the history of cinema to use as teaching (and learning) tools as well.

Yes, this is a real book

By sheer coincidence, How To Teach Your Children Shakespeare was published just weeks before, of all things, William Shakespeare’s Star Wars: Verily, A New Hope by Ian Doescher (Quirk Books, $14.95) a scene-by-scene rewrite of George Lucas’s Episode IV rendered in iambic pentameter. While it’s far from the first work to mingle Shakespearean style and more modern stories (I saw a quite entertaining Tarantino travesty, Pulp Shakespeare, last summer at the New York International Fringe Festival; here’s a clip), it’s a solidly accomplished piece of work, which, like Ludwig’s curriculum, place its emphasis on language. It’s witty, but never anachronistic just for a laugh. It’s hard to tell whether it’s actually stage-worthy (I can imagine countless Shakespeare troupes racing to acquire performance rights, at least for readings or benefits, but this trailer doesn’t inspire confidence), but for the sci-fi geek who’s also a Shakespeare nerd (there are probably plenty), it’s a fun read. Purists will note that the slim volume is clearly not drawn from George Lucas’s First Folio, as it includes scenes with Jabba the Hutt which were not in the original 1977 film release, but rather in the much-later digital makeover; this version also fudges whether Han or Greedo shot first.

The Shakespeare-Star Wars mash-up might be just a lark for most (I particularly enjoyed R2-D2 proffering fully articulated asides to the audience while his companions hear only “meeps” and “beeps), but I wonder whether it might be another tool in the Shakespeare educational kit. If children and teens know Star Wars well, but are Shakespeare novices, this book might serve to teach them “Shakespeare as a second language,” since the faux-vintage language tracks so closely with the film. I don’t mean to suggest that Doescher’s gloss is equal to the Bard’s words, but especially for tweens and teens, it might be a helpful gateway text.

From the recent production by NYC’s The Shakespeare Forum

It is perhaps ironic that I’ve grown to like Shakespeare so much, because I don’t take any particular pleasure in reading him. It’s not a chore by any means, but I don’t pick up my hefty Oxford compendium of a Sunday morning for fun – it’s a reference tool. For me, the playing is all. As a result, while I know any number of the Bard’s plays rather well (in addition to numerous productions of the standard repertoire, I’ve seen no less than three Timon of Athens and three Cymbelines), I also have huge gaps in the canon, one of which was filled only two days ago when I saw The Shakespeare Forum’s production of Love’s Labour’s Lost.

For the first time in many years, I encountered a Shakespeare play that was wholly new to me. I was actually a bit concerned early on in the production, as I wasn’t immediately grasping the plot and the words weren’t even distant echoes of an ill-remembered prior production. For the very first time, I found myself wondering whether I should have read up on a Shakespeare play before seeing it; maybe my youthful defiance of my mother’s teaching tool was ill-placed.

But as I settled in with this alien story, it became clearer; flotsam of my Shakespeare knowledge took hold as I pondered whether Holofernes was written as a female role, as played in this production, and the play within the play echoed (actually, prefigured) the Pyramus and Thisbe scene in Midsummer’s Act V. Did I get every word, every plot point, every allusion? I sincerely doubt it, but that’s because I was a stranger in a strange land for the first time in a long time; since my exposure to LLL isn’t regulated at 50 year intervals, I’ll glean more from the next encounter, which will come in only weeks, with the new musical version set to debut at The Public Theatre’s Shakespeare in the Park.

I have to say that in the case of Shakespeare, familiarity breeds not contempt, but respect and appreciation, and there’s no single way to achieve that knowledge (a close friend and Shakespeare fan uses recordings of the plays as a nightly sleep aid, which I can’t imagine). I do think it can come too soon (impenetrable Shakespeare surely builds up cognitive antibodies to fight off the Bard), but never too late.  Whatever the method, I suspect that anyone can come to enjoy, and even love, all of those words, words, words. I just wish I had been able to share them with my mom.