Literature, Class 2: Period 3, Thursday, September 11
"Welcome back," Miss Bennet said, smiling at her students. "Class this week shall cover an author with whom the majority of you expressed some degree of familiarity. There is no need to be alarmed, for those of you who are not; this week contains no surprise exam, I assure you. And in this specific case, 'author' is perhaps an inaccurate term."
"William Shakespeare," she began, sitting on the edge of her desk, "Was born April 26th, 1564, in Stratford-upon-Avon, England. Though there is some controversy to that statement, as some believe instead that he was a member of the tribe known as the 'Klingons.' Further research is encouraged, on this point." Her eyes found one particular student if he was there as she smiled.
"Shakespeare, throughout his lifetime, wrote a few epic poems, as well as numerous shorter works known as sonnets, but Shakespeare's true masterpieces were said to be the many plays he wrote and directed for the local stage. At the time, the plays were written for all of society; plenty of ribald word-play and fight scenes for the lower classes, moving, dramatic soliloquoys for the higher-minded, and deference at all times to Her Majesty the Queen. Those plays are now considered classics, but I can assure you, Shakespeare would be very surprised indeed to know that his scripts were being read as part of literature classes.
"Perhaps we should start there. Is there not an essential disconnect required in reading a script? Novels provide the scenery and setting; novels allow you inside the heads of the characters. Most plays give only the necessary stage directions -- though I might imagine some playwrights to be more meticulous, and others less so -- and introspection is only possible through soliloquy. Watching a play allows all of these elements to come together, but is there not some degree to which reading a play is not unlike reading a recipe and being asked how delicious the resultant scones would be? A script is a blueprint, a set of instructions on how to achieve a desired result. Is there a way to overcome this, in a classroom environment?
"Shakespeare himself directed his own plays; one may well imagine that he omitted detailed notes on specific characters' motivations because he himself could supply that information, in person, to the actors. Take, as an example, the work entitled That Scottish Play. Near the end of Act I, as Lady MacFinley is urging Lord MacFinley to murder the king and take his throne for himself, Lord MacFinley asks her, 'If we should fail?' To which she replies two simple words: 'We fail.'
Eliza glanced around the class again. "There have been countless debates on how she speaks that line. Is she philosophical? Has she decided nothing else matters but achieving this end? Has she resigned herself to the possibility of discovery and execution? Is she mocking her husband? Is she ruthless? Remember that not all of these are mutually exclusive. Each production of this play decides how to approach that line, as well as every other element of staging and characterization that are not explicitly set down. This is to say nothing of renditions which deliberately change the original for some decided end, such as moving the work to a different location or timeframe.
"Is that perhaps why Shakespeare remains so very popular? Is there a degree to which the flexibility of his work allows them to breathe and change and adapt along with us? One student noted last week that many of his ideas were taken from earlier plays, and other works. No plot is truly original, not when distilled down to its essence. Did he perhaps tell these classic stories in a way that reached the audience more clearly than previous attempts? Is there something universal about these tales? None of us have, perhaps, been in a position where we urged our husbands to commit regicide in order to seize power, but watching Lady MacFinley spiral into madness and despair from her own crippling guilt is recognizable, nonetheless."
"However," she smiled. "Those are only my thoughts. I should like very much to hear what all of you think."
"William Shakespeare," she began, sitting on the edge of her desk, "Was born April 26th, 1564, in Stratford-upon-Avon, England. Though there is some controversy to that statement, as some believe instead that he was a member of the tribe known as the 'Klingons.' Further research is encouraged, on this point." Her eyes found one particular student if he was there as she smiled.
"Shakespeare, throughout his lifetime, wrote a few epic poems, as well as numerous shorter works known as sonnets, but Shakespeare's true masterpieces were said to be the many plays he wrote and directed for the local stage. At the time, the plays were written for all of society; plenty of ribald word-play and fight scenes for the lower classes, moving, dramatic soliloquoys for the higher-minded, and deference at all times to Her Majesty the Queen. Those plays are now considered classics, but I can assure you, Shakespeare would be very surprised indeed to know that his scripts were being read as part of literature classes.
"Perhaps we should start there. Is there not an essential disconnect required in reading a script? Novels provide the scenery and setting; novels allow you inside the heads of the characters. Most plays give only the necessary stage directions -- though I might imagine some playwrights to be more meticulous, and others less so -- and introspection is only possible through soliloquy. Watching a play allows all of these elements to come together, but is there not some degree to which reading a play is not unlike reading a recipe and being asked how delicious the resultant scones would be? A script is a blueprint, a set of instructions on how to achieve a desired result. Is there a way to overcome this, in a classroom environment?
"Shakespeare himself directed his own plays; one may well imagine that he omitted detailed notes on specific characters' motivations because he himself could supply that information, in person, to the actors. Take, as an example, the work entitled That Scottish Play. Near the end of Act I, as Lady MacFinley is urging Lord MacFinley to murder the king and take his throne for himself, Lord MacFinley asks her, 'If we should fail?' To which she replies two simple words: 'We fail.'
Eliza glanced around the class again. "There have been countless debates on how she speaks that line. Is she philosophical? Has she decided nothing else matters but achieving this end? Has she resigned herself to the possibility of discovery and execution? Is she mocking her husband? Is she ruthless? Remember that not all of these are mutually exclusive. Each production of this play decides how to approach that line, as well as every other element of staging and characterization that are not explicitly set down. This is to say nothing of renditions which deliberately change the original for some decided end, such as moving the work to a different location or timeframe.
"Is that perhaps why Shakespeare remains so very popular? Is there a degree to which the flexibility of his work allows them to breathe and change and adapt along with us? One student noted last week that many of his ideas were taken from earlier plays, and other works. No plot is truly original, not when distilled down to its essence. Did he perhaps tell these classic stories in a way that reached the audience more clearly than previous attempts? Is there something universal about these tales? None of us have, perhaps, been in a position where we urged our husbands to commit regicide in order to seize power, but watching Lady MacFinley spiral into madness and despair from her own crippling guilt is recognizable, nonetheless."
"However," she smiled. "Those are only my thoughts. I should like very much to hear what all of you think."