One of the greatest actors of Shakespeare passed away earlier this week. Paul Schofield, whose career spanned more than five decades, died from complications of leukemia at age 86. Schofield was a rare bird among actors—one who preferred the stage to the screen. His most famous role was that of Sir Thomas More in A Man for All Seasons, which earned him 1966’s Best Actor Oscar (he had also played the role on stage). Despite this success, he remained largely absent from the silver screen for much of his career (notable exceptions include his fine work in Quiz Show and a terrific performance in The Crucible).

Although far from a recluse, Schofield simply chose to work more on the stage and gave few interviews over the course of his career. In the theatre, he mastered all of the great Shakespearean roles including Macbeth, Hamlet, and King Lear. In many of his obits, a famous quote from Richard Burton is often mentioned, “Of the ten greatest moments in the theater, eight are Schofield’s.” Despite this, Schofield’s name is probably less familiar than that of Burton (who largely left the theatre in favor of films at a young age). Perhaps one of the reasons Schofield will be forever tied to Thomas More is because he was so well-suited to the role. Friends and co-stars have eulogized him as an incredibly decent human being. In addition, his acting has often been heralded for its groundedness and strength. It was this same powerful core that made his turns as Shakespeare’s famous heroes uniquely human.

A review of a current production of Titus Andronicus compares the play to slasher films, but differentiates it by noting the lack of complexity and sophistication in the latter. Titus Andronicus frequently inspires gore-laden productions, so this assessment is not totally surprising, however, what about reverse argument? What, if anything, is Shakespearean about slasher films? Are they in any way comparable?

Revenge plays a key role in both the tragedies of Shakespeare and slasher movies. Hamlet must avenge his father’s murder, while Coriolanus seeks revenge against the society that he believes rejected him. In horror filmdom, Freddy Krueger goes after the children of Elm Street as payback for their parents murdering him. Jason, who became the face of 1980’s horror, actually became the killer from the second Friday the 13th film onward. One of his primary motivations is revenge for his mother (who is the killer in the first film).

Like Shakespeare’s plays, the horror films eventually learned to expand their market by mixing genres. Shakespeare’s late-career works are alternately described as romances and tragicomedies in an attempt to categorize their melding of different genres. A Nightmare on Elm Street 4: The Dream Master plays with some potent executions added to the mix (a far cry from the more serious, shadowy figure depicted in the first installment).

Most importantly, both Shakespeare’s plays and horror movies ask us to identify with characters who aren’t particularly likeable or honorable. Macbeth and Lady M. are terrible people, but the play hinges on our investment in their undoing. Horror films, particularly in their heyday two decades ago, asked us not only to like but to root for demented, undead sociopaths. Ultimately, both allow audiences to take a trip to the dark side.

When you think of Penn and Teller, you might not immediately think of Shakespeare. You also might not think of theatre. Let’s face it, you might not think of them, period. So, it is my complete surprise to report the buzz surrounding a production of Macbeth directed by none other than Teller himself (maybe Penn was busy). The highly spectacular production is drawing attention because of the incorporation of magic into the show. That’s correct: smoke and mirrors are part of the show. So is blood. Lots and lots and LOTS of blood. Apparently, the stage and the actors are practically drenched in it.

In the second season of the Shakespearean-themed Canadian television show, Slings and Arrows, there is a running gag wherein a character keeps repeating that Macbeth is incredibly difficult to stage. I’ve devoted numerous blogs to the various ways people ruin the play particularly in their staging of the witches. The issue is this: the play cannot be staged realistically (can any Shakespeare play, really?), yet to take the play to the grand extremes it warrants risks going over the top. Essentially, the play should be a horror show, not The Rocky Horror Show.

Incorporating magic into the play is an excellent way to sidestep this pitfall. It gives the audience a sense of anticipation as they await the next trick. If executed properly, it makes the supernatural elements of the story seem more palatable. Most importantly, magic is invested in theatrical artifice, demanding suspension of disbelief instead of asking politely for it. After all, isn’t that what good theatre and good Shakespeare should be—the ultimate sleight of hand?

If you’ve never seen the 1989 comedy-drama Parenthood, you might have trouble appreciating this latest Shakespearean tidbit. The film (which, incidentally, is quite good) follows the familial woes of four siblings, their spouses, and their children. One of these fathers is none other than Rick Moranis, the go-to geek in 1980’s films. His character is obsessed with turning his daughter into a genius, and makes her study, gives her flashcards and drills her on vocab, despite the fact that she’s just three years old. The film plays this obsessive parenting for laughs, the intellectual answer to 1980’s competitive culture.

A recent news item noted that students as young as four should study Shakespeare, and I wondered how seriously I should take the idea. On a simple level, it’s great to encourage interest in literature, the arts, and Shakespeare in particular early on—exactly how early, though, is the question. How much can even the brightest of four year-olds get from Will’s plays? Could they even read the Cliff’s Notes versions of the m? Also, which ones would be the most appropriate to teach them? I’m trying to imagine selling this idea to parents who get skittish about the dark tones of the later Harry Potter books: Which would you prefer your four-year old read? A comedy that includes bestiality (A Midsummer Night’s Dream) or a drama with witches, beheadings and murdered families (Macbeth)? Suddenly, Mr. Moranis’s need to make his toddler learn French seems tame by comparison.

The witches can often decide the success or failure of a Macbeth production. Some directors have too much faith in their scariness and end up fashioning them as some kind of Ed-Wood-esque cheese fest. Others do not believe they can be scary and try to take them in another direction. Sadly, that direction is often that of the “sexy witches.” That is just what a true Shakespearean tragedy needs: a trio of gals with Christina Aguilera’s makeup, gussied up in some kind of Hot Topic/Victoria’s Secret whore-chic wardrobe purring “toil and trouble” like it was some kind of late-night Cinemax come-on. Oh, please.

A new production trying to avoid such a pitfall has adopted a new angle: casting kids as the witches. Apparently taking a cue from The Omen and other child-centric horror flicks, the production team thinks evil is scarier coming from the mouths of babes. I can’t help thinking of the recurring rhyme from the Nightmare on Elm Street Movies, always sung by adorable/spooky pigtailed little girls (“One, two, Freddy’s coming for you…”). I’d love to say this casting choice sounds like it is built around a larger concept about the intersection of innocence and evil, but I have my doubts. Instead, it sounds like an attempt at shock value that has a much better shot of coming off as high camp. All I can say is that if Lady Macbeth shows up with a wire hanger, those witches better watch out.

After teaching Hamlet, Henry V, and Macbeth to three separate English classes, I realized that there was true interest in these amazing plays from my students. Now, don’t get me wrong - I’m not saying that all of my students were knocking down my door, bribing me with lattes, begging, “Please, please, please let us read more Shakespeare!” But there were a significant number who truly wanted to get into the Bard more than time would allow in our classes. So I asked what they thought of attending an afterschool Shakespeare Reading Group, and in a school with around 55 students, I had between 10 and 14 kids sign up…and attend regularly throughout the school year!

We started by reading some of the sonnets, and I also introduced historical information about Shakespeare, his life and times, and the other playwrights that wrote during the 16th century. Beginning with the sonnets rather than a play made for a really good introduction to Shakespeare’s language, particularly the idea of iambic pentameter. It was helpful to get the meter into their heads by exploring the sonnets, where it is pretty obvious that there is a set rhyme scheme and meter, as opposed to the plays, where it can be difficult at times to find. And what I discovered later was that this preparation was very beneficial to those kids who received parts in Much Ado About Nothing…which I’ll tell you about in another post! At the time I started the afterschool reading group, I had no idea I’d be directing a play in a few short months!

Once we finished reading sonnets, we started reading Much Ado About Nothing because many of the kids were familiar with the Kenneth Branagh film and absolutely loved it! With that kind of enthusiasm, I knew reading Much Ado would be a hit for these students. They were all so excited to read aloud the words they had heard the actors and actresses say in the film, and they also came to realize that most film versions of his plays do a great deal of cutting (except for Branagh’s Hamlet, of course). The students enjoyed reading parts that they had never heard before!

In the middle of reading the play, I also started a Shakespeare Festival, which allowed students from each of my English classes to memorize scenes from the plays they read. At the festival our Shakespeare Reading Group performed the first scene of Much Ado. During rehearsals for the festival and afterschool reading of Much Ado, my students came to the realization that not only is reading Shakespeare aloud fun…but so is acting it out! So one day as we were nearing the end of Much Ado, one of my students said, “Hey! Why don’t we put on a play? Why don’t we do Much Ado this summer?”

I was told later by one of my students that my face lit up like I had just been given the best Christmas present ever! It was one of those moments…those teaching moments…those “Oh my goodness, I’ve reached my students!” moments…I realized that by some miracle I had shown a group of kids, aged 11-17, that Shakespeare can actually be fun. And that’s what it’s all about!

In my next post I’ll mention a bit about how I did auditions for Much Ado last year, as well as how I’m getting the kids ready to audition for The Taming of the Shrew in just a couple of weeks!

Perhaps some people aren’t superstitious. They step on cracks, walk under ladders and break mirrors without breaking a sweat. That carefree approach to life may explain a truly unique Shakespearean-themed wedding proposal. Following a performance of a Bard play, a man took his unsuspecting girlfriend on stage and, in front of cast, crew and audience, asked her to marry him. The girl readily agreed to the delight of the onlookers. The play that served as the backdrop for this romantic event was Romeo and Juliet.

On one level, of course, the play is incredibly romantic. It is about the passion and intensity of young love. In many ways, perhaps Romeo and Juliet can serve as ideals of what love should be…except for that Thelma and Louise of an ending. This proposal took place in the darkened crypt where Romeo gulped down a poisoned cocktail and Juliet bear-hugged a knife. Not exactly Cinderella, if you get my drift. Maybe a play about fatally unrequited love sets the wrong tone for a marriage.

Admittedly, it is a healthier relationship that the sicko power games the Macbeths are into, but I can’t help thinking there are Shakespeare characters who offer a more, shall we say, optimistic view of romance. For all of their fighting, Beatrice and Benedick, are a fairly well-matched couple: they aren’t sickeningly ingénue-ish for the cynics out there; they are fun and witty; most importantly, however, their romantic adventures end with both of them still breathing.

Does everything really go with coffee? A recent item that caught my eye was tauting Shakespeare with a “scoop of coffee.” My immediate reaction was that some theatre or Shakespeare Festival was installing a Starbucks or a Seattle’s Best in their theatre. The idea isn’t so ridiculous. After all, we’re living in the age where any place can become a mall. Got some shopping to do? Go to the airport. Need a latte? Get it at your local grocery store. Cross-selling is apparently the wave of the future.
In this case, the article is merely noting a coffee clatch about Shakespeare. It sounds perfectly lovely, but I couldn’t help wondering if there was some kind of corporate coffee tie-in. If theatre and industry merged, I wondered how far the idea might be taken. On television and in movies, product placement has become a way to generate revenue. Could theatre adopt a similar strategy? What would it be like to see The Bard redone as a coffee commercial?

Imagine The Merchant of Venezuela, wherein Shylock becomes a South American coffe vendor, or A Midsummer Night’s Cream and Sugar, wherein a group of young baristas are beset by magical spirits. For tragedy, they might present Mochabeth with a Lady M. who’s out to take over “Duncan Donuts.” It might sound farfetched, but since people are always lamenting that the theatre is about to die, corporate sponsorship might be the way to put it on life support.

You may or may not have heard of The Villages. Tucked away in the center of Florida, the community has burgeoned within the past decade. Given Florida’s reputation, it may not surprise you that a considerable percentage of the population in The Villages is made up of retirees. After all, many move to the Sunshine State in their golden years to enjoy the warm weather and beachfront relaxation. Still, The Villages stands out as a unique community in the way that it was specifically designed to cater to an upscale retiree population.

Integral to its success is the way it seeks to redefine retirement living. The city is designed to give retirees a vibrant, active life full of community and culture. One such example of that culture is a Shakespeare Club. Made up of a varied constituency that includes former English professors and professional actors, the club meets to read and discuss the plays as well as attend productions in the area.

The current focus of their gatherings is Macbeth, due to an upcoming performance of the Scottish tragedy. Instead of merely reading the play individually, The Shakespeare Club gives it a full-dress reenactment. As a result, they experience the plays both as audience member and as performers. It is often said that youth is wasted on the young. It could also be said that certain aspects of Shakespeare (characters, themes, even whole plays) are as well. Like any good works, they mean different things to a person at different stages of her life. The Shakespeare Club is rediscovering these plays in their twilight—a very hip, intelligent and active twilight.

Shakespeare’s women are nothing if not succinct. While their husbands, fathers, brothers and male friends blather endlessly about every stupid thought in their heads, the girls choose their words carefully; so carefully, in fact, that many of them simply do not speak for lengthy stretches. Given the tradition of boy actors in Shakespeare’s time, perhaps this reduced “female” presence made sense. Still, Will’s heroines are at times maddeningly taciturn. At the end of Measure for Measure, does Isabella accept the marriage propose to her or renounce it and continue with her religious avocation? No one can be sure because she never utters another word, and as a result Measure for Measure has become the Edwin Drood of Shakespeare’s canon because each production must decide how to end it.

Somewhere out in internetland, some folks explored this problem from the opposite perspective. Instead of focusing on the negative, they counted the number of lines of every female character in Shakespeare’s plays to discover who was the most talkative. The results are surprising in that they do not include The Bard’s most famous femmes like Juliet or Lady Macbeth. Coming in at number three is Imogen, the plucky heroine of the complex (and often confusing) Cymbeline. First runner-up goes to the Queen of the Nile herself in Antony and Cleopatra. Finally, the gabbiest gal in Bard-dom is none other that Rosalind from As You Like It. The winner is easily the most recognizable of the three as the other two are featured in less frequently staged works. What does that say about contemporary appreciation of Shakespeare’s women? Do we simply exalt the plays based on the male characters and the women become famous by default (sort of like Kelly Preston)? Or, more insidiously, do we prefer these characters when they suffer in silence?