The canon of Stoppard's work up to 1980 shares much with post-World War II art and literature in general and with contemporary British drama in particular. His works invite comparisons with the visual arts both because of his consideration of aesthetic questions through the eyes of painters (as in [Artist Descending A Staircase] or Travesties) or because of his extensive and often elaborate references to artists (as in After Magritte). His mutual concern with these artists is the nature, function, and responsibility of art. Underlying these perennial issues is a self-consciousness characteristic of contemporary art and literature. The most obvious examples of this self-consciousness are the painters of the post-war period who explore the specific limits and nature of their media. The works of Rothko, Pollock, Reinhardt, and others implicitly ask: What is a painting? Must it express or represent an object or an emotion? Must it have certain tangible features (color, form, texture, content)? Must it physically exist at all? In drama, the absurdists approach such questions at least implicitly by omitting elements formerly judged indispensable to drama—elements such as consistent characterization, unified plot, logical development, and conflict. While Stoppard never rarefies the questions he asks of art to the extreme of the abstract expressionists or of the absurdist playwrights, he does deal with the problem of the nature of his medium and, more specifically, the responsibilities of the artist in society. Stoppard's self-scrutiny also evokes the work of the metafictionists, notably Coover, Barth, and Fowles. The important distinction between them and Stoppard, however, is that Stoppard deliberately and selflessly distances himself from his work. He never indulges in the narcissism of the autobiographical impulse in his characterizations. The closest his characters come to his own life are the drama critics of The Real Inspector Hound and the journalists of Night and Day. But at least when exploring the processes and methods of creative artists, he has drawn characters who usually do not work in the medium of language. In turn, this self-consciousness has engendered a virtual obsession with the question of perspective. Characters, especially protagonists, are often afforded a means of voicing their personal thought directly to the audience. (pp. 105-06)

But Stoppard's brand of "distance" from his characters is antithetical to the celebrated "distancing" of Bertolt Brecht's Verfremsdungeffect as well as the autobiographical or confessional impulse that fuels the metafictionists. Brecht's V-effect was primarily intended to distance the audience and, hence, instill in them a greater objectivity or critical awareness of the events on stage. Instead, Stoppard's technique, even in his most didactic plays, is for the playwright to distance himself. Rather than heavy-handedly weighting the arguments that the playwright himself espouses, Stoppard often makes those arguments ludicrous; if not, at least the counterarguments are given fair voice. By not idealizing those characters who best represent Stoppard's own opinions, he renders them no more credible than the others.

Second, and corollary to the concern with the nature of art, is Stoppard's consciousness of the dramatic tradition that nurtures him. This demands a thorough knowledge and profound understanding of the theatre, its techniques, and history. The most obvious example of the consciousness of the dramatic tradition in Stoppard's work is in his borrowing, some might say theft, from Wilde and Shakespeare. Moreover, it also accounts for Stoppard's penchant for and skill in parodying popular dramatic genres. Like most contemporary playwrights, he has not contented himself with the confines of representational drama but has broken out of those constraints by revivifying the soliloquy, aside, song, and interior monologue. Structurally, Stoppard manipulates the fourth wall of representational theatre by mining the traditions of drama to recover vehicles for direct address to the audience. This leads to the play-life metaphor that appears in Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, The Real Inspector Hound, and Travesties. Certainly, Stoppard's experience as a drama critic has substantially contributed to his keen awareness of the dramatic tradition.

Third, Stoppard's treatment of language allies him not only with the absurdists but also with the wittiest if not greatest writers of the English language. Like Conrad, Stoppard may have had the advantage of learning English as a second language and thus with a greater sensitivity to the ironies and nuances of its idiom. His use of puns, quid pro quo, and other forms of wordplay is perhaps his most acclaimed and best known characteristic. Like all brilliant comic writers who employ the English language, Stoppard indulges himself as well as his audience in the sheer pleasure of experiencing the density and richness of which the language is capable. Moreover, his attention to language results not only in humor but also in precision. As a means of considering the difficulty of communication as well as a comic vehicle, language is assiduously explored and exploited by Stoppard. (pp. 106-07)

Although Stoppard's self-consciousness, concern for language, and sensitivity to dramatic tradition place him in the mainstream of contemporary drama, other features of his work mark him as something of a reactionary. To some critics, his theatricalism suggests an atavistic return to nineteenth-century farce; others regard his cleverness as a ruse to disguise his lack of profundity. Stoppard's insistence upon comedy as his métier, even when dealing with serious issues, has provoked many commentators. During the 1960s and 1970s, when great drama was generally identified with the solemnity, gravity, and even pretentiousness of other playwrights, Stoppard's work allies him with the masters of the comic tradition. Like the best comic dramatists, his gift for language and physical comedy fuses with an acute perception of the excesses, eccentricities, and foibles of man. If his plays endure, Stoppard's unique accomplishment may prove to be the theatrical treatment of the intellectual and artistic follies of our age.

Considered along a political spectrum, Stoppard's plays tend toward the right. This century has had flocks of leftist playwrights, but Stoppard, while hardly embracing the status quo in the manner of escapist authors, addresses political issues from a conservative vantage. The history of drama, especially in the twentieth century, suggests that comedy and political commitment have little common ground. But Stoppard's faith in man and his characters' persistent, if battered, optimism are aptly suited to his comic mode.

Stoppard's preoccupation with language is not only the mainstay of his acclaim as a wit but also a serious thematic interest that can be traced throughout his work. His canon to date is fashioned of a consistent texture of characters, motifs, and themes. His recurrent character type, despite frequent unhappy ends, demands comic presentation because of the character's spirited faith in himself. Most of his protagonists weather disappointment, disaster, and even doom without despair. Their circumstances are often comfortable, but their lives are never easy.

Stoppard's plays, like their settings and their characters' games, are self-contained systems invariably predicated on and dedicated to logic. The plays hardly inspire audiences to action outside the theatre; yet they illustrate the choices—political, philosophical, and ethical—that confront contemporary man. Like games, the plays often have their own internal logic that can transport the audience from the world of missed connections to a tidily wrapped microcosm.

Stoppard's accomplishment as a craftsman of plot is not to be underestimated. Although audiences and critics have sometimes been frustrated by the tangents the plays pursue, his works withstand textual analysis and perhaps even fare better for it. In writing specifically for performance, for what will work best on stage, he also has created plays that grow richer with careful scrutiny. (pp. 107-09)