In the past, I have written blogs about nudity and sexuality in Shakespeare. In truth, it’s an issue that does not have a right or wrong side; rather, its justification lies in how well it is used within a given production (not to mention the perceptions/expectations of the audience). Perhaps the question isn’t whether it takes the audience out of the play, tantalizes them or offends them. Instead, maybe the question is whether or not the device makes some kind of statement or provokes a strong response from the audience.

As previously mentioned here, The Globe’s new production of Timon of Athens may have these goals in mind with its envelope-pushing approach to depicting the excess within the play. A recent item clarified exactly how far the production wants to push its audience, and it isn’t merely on sexual lines. In one sequence, an actor faux-defecates into the pit of the globe and then hurls this fake poo into the audience after waving his dirty posterior at them. Next to the orgies and other sexual acts depicted in this version of the play, this perhaps should not register as a surprise. Still, it does test our limits of what Shakespeare ought to be. Bard aficionados acknowledge that he had a scatological side, but being confronted with it so graphically further challenges us with our notions of what Shakespeare is and ought to be. I’m not saying its right or wrong, and I’m certainly not saying its classy, but his, er, intestinal approach to the Bard certainly forces you to redefine “art.”

A tragedy. A comedy. A romance. A collaboration. A hot mess. When it comes to Timon of Athens, any descriptor can fit the bill. Although it is less popular than some of his other works, Shakespeare’s tale of greed and false friendship has engendered some of the most fervent debate of any of his plays. While some try very hard to define it (It’s a satire! It’s a tragicomedy! It’s a floor cleaner and a desert topping!), others simply shrug it off as a play that isn’t terribly good.

A new production at the Globe hopes to counter the latter opinion and it is pulling out every stop to achieve that goal. In this version, the revelries of Timon and his “friends” are given a spectacular, Tim Burton-y spin. Set in the medieval period, the play is drenched in its own excesses, as the parties feature hangers-on literally hanging on (suspended from the ceiling).

The trick with any production of this play is how to manage its rough-edged and seemingly contradictory parts. Trying to make it fit a specific genre is like asking a teenager to behave like an adult—it makes the awkwardness even more pronounced. Regardless of who wrote the play, what inspired them, or what they intended, all we have is the end result in all its difficult glory. Hopefully the orgiastic tone hinted at in the review of this new production indicates a desire to keep Timon as complicated and unpredictable in performance as he is on paper.

For a dead guy, Thomas Middleton is having quite a year. As reported yesterday, another tome of his works is being published on the heels of the two-book Oxford edition. In addition, England has been awash with productions of his plays, particularly The Revenger’s Tragedy and The Changeling, in the past season. The new text is titled Our Other Shakespeare and the title is causing as much furor as the texts themselves.

For the uninitiated or uninterested, there is a pile of scholarship debating which plays of Shakespeare’s were co-written or later revised by Middleton (who was a few generations younger than Shakespeare). The most substantiated of these theories is his collaboration on Timon of Athens, though other plays have been brought into the fray as well. Still, the title is troubling to some because of the air of competition it gives off.

There are scholars who like to be contrary and thus specifically go after someone like Middleton to prove that Shakespeare wasn’t the one and only Elizabethan playwright. As with other contemporary playwrights, there is much wailing and gnashing of teeth over issues like delayed or limited publication to explain why Shakespeare got to hog the spotlight. Some of this is undoubtedly true, and playwrights like Middleton only enrich our discussion not just of Shakespeare, but also theatre as a whole. Still, for whatever the reason, Shakespeare is the one most people have heard of, so we’ll all just have to get over it. If we do, maybe we can focus on rediscovering playwrights like Middleton and then their name recognition will increase without having to make, if you’ll pardon me, a big production out of it.

Given how famous Shakespeare and his plays are (and how small his canon is in comparsion to the number of companies who produce his work), over-saturation is a serious risk. Part of the reason more obscure plays like Timon of Athens ever grace the stage is in part to give audiences a reprieve from his more famous plays that may seem a bit overexposed. If you had to pick one play that might have taxed its audience’s interest the most it is Hamlet. To be clear, there is no reflection on the play. Part of the reason that is arguably the most famous of the Bard’s works is because it is such a fine piece of work. Since so many people know it, how do you keep the play fresh and alive?

One North Carolina scholar-performer has created one possible solution: Looking for Hamlet. The one-person show, part play, part lecture, recounts the history of Hamlet, its evolution, and its place in Shakespeare’s body of work. The show covers the complicated history of the text itself (most contemporary versions are a melange of the best parts of three different versions). Looking for Hamlet also touches on the much-buzzed-about Ur-Hamlet, an earlier version of the story that is believed to have have provided Will with his inspiration. Unfortunately, no copies of the Ur-Hamlet have survived. Hamlet is a great play, and part of what is useful (and, hopefully, entertaining) about a show like Looking for Hamlet is that is demonstrates how lucky we are to still have the play despite all the complications history can create.

Totus mundus agit histrionem is believed to be a kind of catchphrase for the original Globe Theatre. The phrase translates to “The whole world is a playhouse,” a sentiment not to far from Shakespeare’s famous quote, “All the world is a stage.” The new Globe, built just over ten years ago according to what are believed to be the specifications of the original, is adopting this slogan again for their upcoming season.

Apparently, a Totus Mundus season means a wide variety of Shakespearean plays, including King Lear, A Midsummer Night’s Dream, The Merry Wives of Windsor, and Timon of Athens. It is an interesting mix, particularly on the heels of their most successful season yet. That season included the widely known tragedy Romeo and Juliet. This season follows a similar format, balancing well known titles (Lear and Midsummer) against lesser known (Windsor) and even obscure (Timon) works.

While the better known titles inspire a variety of responses, from voracious anticipation to overexposed fatigue, it is the lesser titles that have more potential to impact the audience. Timon may be well known to Bard aficionados, but the uninitiated may not even have heard of its existence. As a result, the artists involved have more creative leeway, because they are presenting an unknown quantity. Its audience is less likely to come into the production with preconceived notions about concept and characterization. In this way, The Globe has the potential to broaden its audiences’ understanding of Shakespearean theatre.

More than a few times in this blog, I have taken cracks at Cymbeline, a late-Shakespeare work with more structural problems than a house of cards. In truth, I like the play because of (and not in spite of) its idiosyncratic nature. Is it a tragicomedy, a problem play, a romance? Is it a complete mess? Would anyone care about this play if it didn’t have the name Shakespeare attached to it?

American Players Theatre in Wisconsin is currently producing Timon of Athens, a play that, like Cymbeline, isn’t one of the Bard’s most popular. Perhaps the actors, directors and designers who take on these plays like a challenge, or maybe they want to be the first company to “get it right.” A more cynical point of view is that audiences are fatiguing in the face of the repetition of the best-regarded of Shakespeare’s plays (seriously, is there a Shakespeare Festival that isn’t doing A Midsummer Night’s Dream?). I like the lesser-known plays for a different reason: they humanize our Will. While King Lear and Richard III will always be “great literature,” it’s nice to remind ourselves that even The Bard didn’t always knock it out of the ballpark.

Who could have predicted that Xanadu would be an important cultural influence 27 years after its inception? For those who have never seen the film, it’s….certainly something. If the blatant misogyny of Showgirls prevents you from enjoying it on a so-terrible-it’s-riveting level, Xanadu may be the perfect antidote. It is utterly, blandly harmless (and, despite its reputation as a turkey, it was modestly successful when it came out). Its main asset is the soundtrack, which featured hugely successful songs written by E.L.O. (or Electric Light Orchestra). Many of those songs are featured in the new stage version of Xanadu currently tearing it up on Broadway. They are also featured in a decidedly unique take on Shakespeare’s classic tragedy of obsessive love, Othello.

Troubador Theatre Company’s OthE.L.O (get it?) is a kind of musical deconstruction of the play featuring music by you-know-who, with a title song sung to the tune of—you guessed it—”Xanadu.” TTC specializes in this kind of Shakespearean satire as evidenced by previous productions such as Fleetwood Macbeth. I’d be willing to bet that none of the critics who shredded Xanadu would have ever imagined seeing the names Shakespeare and Olivia Newton-John in the same sentence, but that’s show biz. In the mean time, I’m keeping my fingers crossed for Britney (Shakes)Spears’ Hit Me Baby One More Timon of Athens.