In a recent blog, I joked about the relative unfamiliarity of King John, one of Shakespeare’s least known histories. The play, along with a few others that are not performed as frequently as the “name” titles, finds itself in a curious place. Typically, when describing it, critics or scholars will call it one of the lesser Shakespeare plays. That description may be inescapable, but it isn’t totally fair. As a result, theatre companies will occasionally dust off King John, “rediscover” it and perform it as a way of thumbing their nose at those who would dismiss it.

A theatre company in Boston is taking its turn doing the thumbing, presenting a modern-day King John in an intimate playing space. One review of the production was highly favorable, praising the play and the production for the gritty, unromantic depiction of political game-playing. Still, the reviewer had to include a mention that the play is not one of Shakespeare’s masterpieces. In a way, these kinds of assessments say more about reviewers than they do about the plays. It is as if critics feel the need to clear their throats when reviewing certain works, whether they be films, plays, musical recordings, or other art forms. It’s the equivalent of acknowledging guilty pleasures – “Oh, it’s fun and all, but of course it’s not art.” In a sense, the critic builds his or her reputation by being selective, by not loving everything. Some take this too far, believing that if they hate EVERYTHING it somehow makes their opinion more erudite. If King John is a good play (or is at least given a good production), it should not require any justifications.

Do you think you’re up for A Night in Elsinore? With murders, potential incest, suicides and some poisonous sword fighting, it might not be the getaway it sounds like. A Night in Elsinore is a new production that, what else, parodies Shakespeare. The object of its ribbing is none other than Hamlet. More than any other of The Bard’s plays, Hamlet has taken its share of ribbing. Some plays have one-off jokes about mommy issues or troubled monarchies. Other plays devote their entirety to rethinking the classic story from a comic point of view.

In a way, it makes sense. A comic rip-off of King John probably wouldn’t be as successful due to the dearth of productions of the play. Still, are there things about Hamlet that make it ripe for roasting other than its fame? Making fun of tragedies dates as far back as Ancient Greece, when playwrights would present three tragedies followed by a short comic piece that often made fun of the works that preceded it. I know if I watched a day’s worth of Greek tragedies, I’d need a few chuckles.

Hamlet is no more or less grave than some of the other tragedies, it is just further suffused into pop culture. A riff on King John would be a riff on King John. A riff on Hamlet is a riff not just on the play, but also on its integration into pop culture. In a way, we’re not laughing at Hamlet, we’re laughing at ourselves laughing at Hamlet.

When Kenneth Branagh filmed his unedited Hamlet in 1996, it elicited a variety of responses. Some carped about the sheer length of the film (four hours plus), while others questioned the integrity of the text (e.g. which versions are we using/combining to create this “complete” Hamlet?). Regardless of your level of appreciation of the film, it does test the level of Bard fanaticism. By this logic, if you love Shakespeare’s words, the more of them there are, the happier you will be.

The Royal Shakespeare Company in England is taking this idea to the ultimate limit. They are producing no less than eight of The Bard’s plays as a history cycle: Richard II, Henry IV Parts I and II, Henry V, Henry VI Parts I, II and III, and Richard III. Though not written in this order, this sequence represents a chronological presentation of the plays. Shakespeare’s other two histories, King John and Henry VIII, do not feature any of the overlapping characters and story threads that the other eight do, which presumably explains their absence from this presentation. All told, this reportorial approach took nearly three years to prepare and would demand about twenty-four hours of the audience’s time to view in its entirety.

This is a bold undertaking in a number of ways. First, it demands the consistency of a single, extended play, even though the works were not written that way. Secondly, the histories are generally less popular than the tragedies and comedies, with Henry V and Richard III getting most of the face time. If it succeeds, the RSC’s cycle will be nothing short of…uh…historical.