Standing Ovation for Shakespeare

Any expectations I had for Shakespeare class were greatly exceeded.  Who knew Shakespeare could be so much fun?  I chose the class because I enjoyed Shakespeare's work, but I had never actually seen any of them in action.  I was curious to see how something that seemed so difficult to read and understand could be entertaining.

The moment that I realized the class' true potential was at the Pearl Theatre production of A Midsummer Night's Dream.  The director made the play so funny and so thoroughly enjoyable that it changed the way I read Shakespeare.  Before the play, I viewed Shakespeare productions as fancy theater for the wealthy and educated.  After the play, I understood that Shakespeare wrote his plays to entertain the general public, and quite genius entertainment, too.

When our final project was presented to us, I was beyond excited.  I was given the role of director for Act 2 Scene 1 of The Tempest.  As I read the scene, I tried to ignore the language gap between Shakespearan English and Modern English and what it revealed was pure entertainment.  At first read, the scene can seem dull and perhaps a bit confusing, but once it was acted out, the pieces fell together and it flowed marvelously.  The role was daunting, and I couldn't help feeling competetive towards the other groups, but ultimately I found it the most fun I had ever had in any English class.  It was a completely hands on and innovative way of teaching.

Shakespeare is amazing, but I wouldn't have been able to see Shakespeare's dirty, raunchy humor or understand his existential rants without Mr. Kiczek.  I would do it all over again!  No longer do I view Shakespeare as some kind of elitist writing, but as Shakespeare meant for it to be, entertainment.

Death Ain't Nothin'

                 There's a great scene in the movie Ray, in which the young musician Ray Charles and his band's bus driver are small-talking about their lives prior to getting involved with music. The bus driver reveals that he used to be in the army (World War II) and lived through some brutal combat. The odd thing, however, and the reason why this scene is so unique is that the bus driver comments unexpectedly that "Death ain't nothin' ". Oddly enough, Ray Charles agrees instantly with him, and then he experiences a flashback to his early childhood when he witnesses his brother quickly drown, while attempting to swim in a small pot of water. Normally, watching someone die is depicted as this painful, extravagant, and life-altering experience, but Ray opened me up to the idea that there is something very nonchalant about death, something almost disappointing, as if the process of dying was not played out enough- it just happens. Act 5, Scene 1 of Hamlet intensified this feeling of death's casualness and helped me understand the powerlessness and finality of death.

                 "What ceremony else?" This is the response of Laertes to the death of his sister, Ophelia. It does not sound like the devastated, depressed response of someone who has just found out about the death of a dear loved one, but its bluntness helps to convey a sense of hopelessness. I can feel the grief and, in a way, confusion of Laertes as all his memories of his sister flash before his eyes. Her death is so sudden, not anticipated by any of her family, and her death is nothing honorable or extravagant. In this instance, Shakespeare helps to present the odd part of death: the effects of the death of a loved one can change a life, but the actual death is nothing grand. Furthermore, the process of celebrating and remembering the life of  a person (through wake, funeral, and burial) often is not enough to satisfy people who knew the deceased. The process seems a bit incomplete, as voiced by Laertes with his short question. You just have to accept this feeling of powerlessness, that no matter what you do, you can't save the dead. I was surprised that those three simple words could move me so much and help to paint a picture of death that I will never forget.  But this is the exact reason why I decided to take the Shakespeare class in the first place.

                   One of the things that always amazed me about Shakespeare is his ability to teach such valuable and detailed life lessons in only five acts. In Othello and Macbeth, I learned about betrayal and how those closest to you can end up doing you the most damage. In A Midsummer Night's Dream Shakespeare showed me how love is not at all a logical or rational idea, but a feeling that one must simply embrace when it comes to you. Hamlet and The Tempest both helped to show me how to live a fulfilling life and to do what pleases you. Thus, Shakespeare, although he is an entertainer, is a teacher for me, someone who is able to paint such vivid pictures to illustrate life's greatest lessons.

This Is The Way The Class Ends - Not With A Whimper But A Bang

Going into this class, I felt a mixture of nervousness and excitement. I knew that I would be reading and analyzing texts as I had done in past English classes, a familiar task well within my comfort zone. I also knew that I would have to perform scenes from several of Shakespeare's most famous plays, a task that shook me to the pit of my soul. The idea of memorizing a character's lines and performing them for Mr. Kiczek was not foreign to me. In fact, it reminded me of my time on the Hearn, which was spent competing in the category of dramatic performance. There, I would memorize a scene from a movie or piece of literature and perform it in front of a judge. Here, it would be similar, as Mr. Kiczek acted as my judge. However, it was not only him  who would judge my performance - it was the rest of the class.

Although my peers' judgment would not affect my overall grade, it would most certainly affect my attitude towards the class. Unlike my competitors in forensics, who I would only see once and whose opinions I did not value, I see my peers five days a week. For a while, I was worried that if I decided to put my all into performing, I would be labeled a try-hard. However, this line of thought changed when we attended a performance of A Midsummer Night's Dream. Despite the fact that this play is one of Shakespeare's greatest comedies, most of us, including me, were skeptical about it being funny. Contrary to my expectations, the play proved to be a wonderful time. The play, a humble five man performance, was delivered in a minimalist fashion, relying on both the audience's imagination and the actors' abilities to immerse viewers in the world of A Midsummer Night's Dream. In between these periods of immersion, I noticed that my classmates were enjoying themselves just as much as I was. It was then that I realized they would not judge me for trying hard when performing in class as they were equally, if not more, passionate about this course.

Finally, it all came down to our performance - The Tempest, Act II, Scene I. Assigned the role of Antonio, I was nervous. I was no longer nervous regarding my classmates' judgement, but I was nervous to perform in front of not only Mr. Kiczek, but Ms. Reisig, Ms. Miller-Lewis, Mr. Dee, and several other teachers. It was a daunting experience, and I felt my nervousness surface whenever I looked over my script. Unlike forensics, if I messed up in front of these people, I would have to relive the moment of shame every time I passed one of them in the hallway. So I did the only thing I could - I practiced. I practiced in class with my group, I practiced at home after my commute, I practiced in the shower, and I even practiced in my sleep. I would not allow this assessment to tarnish my reputation. On the day of the performance, I was no longer nervous. There was no point by then, as all I could do was my best, and if I did feel nervous due to the presence of additional teachers, I'd power through it. Fortunately, it seemed that God was smiling upon me, as my group was not able to perform in class due to time-constraints. As a result, we performed after school in front of Mr. Kiczek alone. Without the possibility of embarrassing myself in front of any teacher other than Mr. Kiczek, I was filled with confidence. I poured my heart and soul into the delivery of my lines, filling each syllable with vapid amounts of emotion. It was one of my proudest moments I have ever had in an English class.

Then, we were done. Cut short thanks to the Regis Repertory's insistence on using the stage, Mr. Kiczek signaled our end, and that was that. Similar to how the audience's applause freed Prospero from the island at the end of The Tempest, Mr. Kiczek's words of approval signified the end of our last Shakespeare class. In T.S. Eliot's poem, "The Hollow Men," the final stanza reads:

"This is the way the world ends /
This is the way the world ends /
This is the way the world ends /
Not with a bang but a whimper."

Although you can say that's how this class literally ended for me and my group, not with raucous applause but with the brief dismissals of "happy Thanksgiving" being thrown at each other, it was quite the contrary. This class ended on a great high note. It helped everyone break out of their respective comfort zones and test their acting abilities. In doing so, everyone learned a bit more about themselves, and there can be nothing further from a whimper than that.

Tis Almost Fairy Time

Everyone knows the name "William Shakespeare", but it takes some added effort to really dive into what Shakespeare truly embodies as a playwright. Like many others, I was turned away by the language Shakespeare uses in his play and I struggled understanding the inner parts of the play as a result of the complexity of the writing. Despite this, I was still interested by the fact that Shakespeare is so popular and creative that I decided that I had to take a class about him just so I could learn more about him and his work throughout his career. I had already read Romeo and Juliet and Othello, but reading three different plays in one trimester would surely help me understand more than the other two plays ever could. I knew that I would have to overcome the language that Shakespeare uses but I was confident in what I would take from this class. At first, I imagined classes to be similar to my other experience with Shakespeare's plays: purely analytical. Yet, with the first play we read, A Midsummer Night's Dream, I was surprised to see us spending more time acting out the scenes and envisioning them rather than stating the themes or character development we saw within the scenes. Of course, these were incorporated as well but it was a breath of fresh air. 

On the topic of A Midsummer Night's Dream, I was skeptical at first at how Shakespeare would make the play comedic and humorous. Having only read tragedies from Shakespeare. I was not sure if the play would actually be funny. Reading the play, I could certainly see the funny moments within the scenes but I never really felt the humor. Mr. Kiczek reassured us that Shakespeare was meant to be acted out on stage, not read in a classroom. When we were told that we were going to see A Midsummer Night's Dream live, I viewed this is a great opportunity to see whether Shakespeare's comedies were the real deal. With the rest of my class, we were not expecting much at first and prayed for the best. 

Boy, did we get the best. In the beginning of the performance, I was very lost and confused and thought this was going to be the rest of the play; but it eventually transformed into a comedic masterpiece that brought me nearly to tears from laughing so hard. Being someone that laughs at nearly anything, I was holding my stomach at every little joke or innuendo. It became a struggle containing my laughter especially when the play transitioned into a more serious scene. Just thinking about the last scene made me hold my mouth shut. As the play ended, I couldn't help but realize that this is what Shakespeare is about; it's not about analyzing the significance of a symbol or how a character represents something far greater. I originally felt I needed to understand everything about Shakespeare but I realized it's more about enjoying it, whether it is a tragedy or comedy. When I had to reenact a scene from A Midsummer Night's Dream for the final project, I immediately recalled my experience of watching it at the theater. Looking back, I was determined to carry that sense of enjoyment and laughter into our performance of the play. While we were not professional actors, we put a lot of effort and preparation into making sure our play was the best it could be. It was also enlightening to realize that we can put our own little touch into the performance; even if it is the same play, every director has their own vision for their performance and that is what makes Shakespeare all the more intriguing and enjoyable. After my experiences in the Shakespeare class, I will never doubt the genius that is Shakespeare and I will surely never hesitate to watch a Shakespeare play whenever I have the chance.

The Power of Art

Choosing to take Shakespeare, I only half knew what exactly I was getting into. I did not think I would expect the class to have nearly as much of an effect on me as it did. Over the course of the past three months, I have come to multiple realizations--that Shakespeare caters to audiences of all types, how much taking a play off of a page and onto the stage can enhance one's understanding of it, and my passion for bringing new life and interpretation to words. However, these are things I already knew to some degree or had at least been told. The course allowed me to experience all these things firsthand rather than as a mere thought in my head. The most significant realization I had was about the impact of great art. Everything we read throughout the trimester was written 400+ years ago yet we can not only understand but enjoy it all. Despite its age, Shakespeare's work is still read, performed, and widely recognized throughout the English-speaking world. Unlike science, which constantly evolves and makes earlier iterations of itself obsolete, or politics, where views can change and power can shift at the drop of a hat, art can survive for as long as it can stay in people's memory. Art comes from human nature, so all people can identify with it regardless where or when they are from.

It was while reading and discussing The Tempest that I made this realization. Shakespeare makes specific allusions to things (ie the Globe Theater) not normal to us yet we can still fully enjoy the play because there are plenty of themes with which we can identify. Whether it is the notion of control, the power of knowledge, a combination of them, or something else, people enjoy his work because it resonates with them. It was only through this course that I realized the very close connection between human nature and art.We can identify with Prospero not because of his magic or his dukedom, but through his humanity. Though we do not have magical garments, we deal with having control and letting it go every day. Regardless of the circumstantial differences between the readers and the characters, Shakespeare's works survive because of their appeal to the readers' humanity.

Nothing was the Same

Author and critic, Joe Nickell, once said, "No two things are ever constructed or manufactured in exactly the same way." I believe that this quote is perfectly embodied by my experience with Shakespeare's plays in this class. The most noteworthy endeavors of this class were those that allowed me to discover the many interpretations that Shakespeare's works evoke. Through our viewing of A Midsummer Night's Dream at Pearl Theatre, in-class performances of Shakespeare's most storied scenes, and through my group's performance of the rude mechanicals' production, I realized that no two depictions of Shakespeare would ever be alike. It may only take one word or one line in a given scene, for a viewer to discern their own meaning of the play. For instance, while rehearsing my part as Pyramus in the rude mechanicals performance, the following prudently spoken line by Lysander struck me, "A good moral, my lord: it is not / enough to speak, but to speak true" (5.1.115-116). From this line, I conceived my own meaning of the play, which was the importance of using our words shrewdly. In fact, it reminded me of a quote once pronounced by Plato, which my father often repeated to me as a child, "Wise men speak because they have something to say; Fools because they have to say something." Evidently, the rude mechanicals were fools that abused their opportunity to speak well and put on an acceptable play for Theseus, Hippolyta, Demetrius and Lysander. Instead, characters such as Quince were caught up in their drunkenness and characters like Bottom were caught up in their egos. Thus, my understanding of that line contributed, in its own way, to the greater meaning of the scene and perhaps the entire play. The meaning that I found, personally, was that we should speak, act and love with intention rather than for the sake of speaking, acting or loving.

 It was my preparation for my role as Pyramus in the rude mechanicals' rendition of Pyramus and Thisbe that made me realize the distinct interpretations of Shakespeare's plays. When I first took on the role of Pyramus, I recalled that I was not only Pyramus but Bottom as well. Certainly, it would be difficult to balance the conceited interjections of Bottom with the stately and composed demeanor of Pyramus. Like an experienced athlete preparing for a tough opponent, I decided that I would "study film" so that I could perfectly portray the stately poise of Pyramus while capturing the arrogant behavior of Bottom. After watching the scene performed by the Baron's Troupe of Mummers, I took notes on their casting of Pyramus: confident, jumpy, arrogant in their portrayal of both Bottom and Pyramus. Then I viewed the scene as performed by Shakespeare in Detroit and continued my notes on Pyramus: egotistical in his presentation of Bottom, truly immersed in Pyramus' dignified character. Quickly I exited that video and opened another. Still, a new presentation of Pyramus/ Bottom as a comedian. By the time I finished and scanned my notes, it seemed that I was to be five different characters. These videos, presented below, had expressed the most contrasting qualities of Pyramus, making it nearly impossible for me to decide the most accurate representation. Indeed, I had run straight into a wall. Was I to be a comedic Pyramus? A somber Pyramus? Or perhaps a combination of the two? 

Through this process, I learned that there was no template for a portrayal of Pyramus, or Bottom for that matter. Instead, each actor allowed Shakespeare's commanding words to influence their attitudes, actions and intonation. Thus, I decided that I would do the same. Ultimately, this decision proved a more fulfilling experience while rehearsing and performing on stage. Instead of feeling confined in the walls of certain emotions and actions, I let the the words determine my temperament and the role naturally came to me. More important than my experience on stage, though, was what I learned from rehearsing my role and "studying film". This lesson was that no two interpretations of Shakespeare were the same, which is the very beauty of his work. The same scene or line or word can have different meanings for different people based on experience, exposure and our frames of mind; I discovered this, more intimately, in the classroom s with the various interpretations of my classmates. In fact, this message can be extended to everyday life as we are all different, a truth that results in different opinions, experiences and actions. This uniqueness is what prevents a dull world, similar to that of George Orwell's renowned novel "1984", and creates an unpredictable world full of opportunity.

 In sum, taking this course taught me a great deal about intonation while reading, performance in theatre and ultimately the gravitas of Shakespeare's work. However, I believe that the most important lesson that I learned regarded uniqueness and individuality. Undeniably, an actor is assigned to certain roles and emotions, but an actor also shines through his role to make the presentation unique. Therefore, the manner that I initially went about studying for my role was incorrect because I was trying to be someone else. This is why Shakespeare's work continues to please, because its messages apply to us all in so many different ways, which spawns an expression of our true selves within the realm of his works.

Live in Action

All my life, I always looked at reading as a connection between us and others in a different time and place, and Shakespeare is no different. Through all books, we learn about other times and cultures, while also discovering universal human truths that are seen in the text. In all of Shakespeare's works, especially the ones we read, we got a good look at old England, while also finding out a lot about human nature, whether it be love, revenge, or death. However, to find most of this one has to look hard because it is hard to find it in text. Most of human communication is done through body language, therefore a lack of makes seeing what the author wants to get across very hard, particularly in Shakespeare's works where the work was designed to be performed not read. That's why the performances we saw grabbed my attention so much.

As I read Shakespeare in the past, the plots of each play was good, but I never experienced the sight of a Shakespeare play live. That all changed this year, seeing the plays we read acted out the plays both in and out of school. Every time we did so, I always thought, "Shakespeare was meant to be performed for an audience", as drilled into us by Mr. Kiczek. When we did a couple scenes in class, I began to see that even just a little emotion began to change the meaning of a scene, with some thanks to Mr. Mileo. I had somewhat low expectations going into the Pearl Theater showing of A Midsummer Night's Dream being that some of the performances I had seen at the College of Staten Island where underwhelming. I was blown back by the performance, as it surpassed all my expectations. Seeing the play live, not only did I have a great time, but I understand the play better, including the human emotions that both the characters and the audience felt. Finally, when I performed myself, I really saw how big of difference acting the play out makes. Both during my soliloquy and in the graveyard, I was really able to get into what I was saying, and it almost felt natural, as if I was having original thoughts and feelings, rather than acting out other characters. That was truly when I felt the power and emotion of Shakespeare's works the most.

Comedic Genius

When I first made the decision to take the "Shakespeare" course this trimester, I did it because I had enjoyed Mr. Kiczek's classes freshman and junior years rather than out love of Shakespeare.  I had heard that Shakespeare was a genius, and that some of his plays were absolutely hilarious, but I wasn't believing it.  Maybe his plays were funny when he wrote then, but I wondered how they could still be funny today.  I was intrigued, however, because many people held Shakespeare in such a high regard, and swore that his comedies were actually funny. 

When we read A Midsummer Nights Dream, I picked up on some of the jokes, and understood how many people could think that this was indeed comedy.  Then, when we acted out some scenes, in particularly the Rude Mechanical's play, I further appreciated much of the humor, and grew a new respect for Shakespeare and his comedic genius. 

But it wasn't until our entire class went to the production of A Midsummer Nights Dream that I fully appreciated just how funny this comedy was. Much of the acting was absolutely phenomenal, and brought out a whole new side of Shakespeare to me. The final scene, that same Rude Mechanical's production was the highlight of this show, and the highlight of the course for sure. 

As I reflected on the show, I struggled to think of a movie that had kept me so engaged and almost in tears laughing as that production of A Midsummer Nights Dream had. I realized why so many people rave about Shakespeare's work, and that it was still relevant and very funny even today.  I am certainly glad that I took this course, and now think that I may need to continue to see plays that people describe as funny, and not just dismiss them. 

Get on Up: Stepping Onstage and Falling in Love

In what originally seemed like an overly ambitious endeavor, we have covered much in our short time together. We viewed an intimate Shakespearean performance, read three of The Bard's great works, formalized our very own production proposal, and acted out a scene with our peers. Particularly from the performance of A Midsummer Night’s Dream, the talk of the town (class) was wildly laudatory, making it the highpoint for most. Thankfully, I did not feel the course taper down from there; in fact, I felt it just kicked off. For in closing that first chapter, we turned the page to many more. Swinging from comedy to tragedy and everything in between, we breathed many of Shakespeare's distinct aromas. You could say that we were thrown into two separate worlds for this course, and you wouldn't be wrong: there was the world of the text and the world of the world. That world, of course, was the living, breathing terrain of the spoken word.  I had hoped we wouldn't get too bogged down in the world of the text, scrutinizing every word that Shakespeare had written because, in all seriousness, he himself probably did not. Presented for a widely illiterate audience, his success depended just as much on picking the right actors as it did on choosing the exact words; the performances would never sell if the actors were lifeless sticks in the mud. So in that sense, we learned, in equal parts, both why lines were said and how they would be delivered. We learned to navigate these distant lands with skill and fondness, and in the process many have surfaced as true Shakespearean scholars. I'm thankful the opportunity.

The most testing moment, and most revelatory, was indeed our final bout: stepping up to the stage and doing justice to Shakespeare's plays in front of an audience. Kudos to the cast of A Midsummer Night's Dream at the Pearl Theatre Company, who's chemistry and passion flawlessly mixed around the sandy, barebone set for all to see. They served as a counterpoint to the newbies—us—that tried their hand at meeting that standard, and I think everyone gave excellent showings. While undoubtedly a crucial challenge, our performance made me fretful and uneasy; frankly, I'd vote for a ten page paper over it any day. Yet, I'm quite happy we weren't given a choice—that would have given us a chance to skate around what can perhaps be seen as the culmination of one's study of Shakespeare.  Moving from reading to writing to declaiming to acting is a frightful journey—but it's also the most natural. I learned two things from our time acting out our scene from Shakespeare: first, "to be or not to be" is not quite for me (I'll stick to the writing), and second, you shortchange yourself by not watching the scene pan out in motion. Otherwise, you're only getting the bottom frame of the Mona Lisa.

Within the realm of the text, there was much to glean as well. Most impactful, the graveyard scene in Hamlet unfolds the most jarring truth—that despite one's worldly success, we all get thrown back into the same dirty ditch. How quickly and callously the gravedigger tossed the skulls out of the grave genuinely shocked me; coupled with Hamlet's chilling reductions of a court jester, politician, lawyer, Alexander the Great, and Caesar to mere dust, he delivers a woeful prognosis. I couldn't help being taken aback by this scene. Both the visual image rendered and the symbolic message conveyed were utterly terrifying. As we embark on new quests beyond these halls, to do what many of those very people sought to do, that scene actually gave me pause—am I going to do enough that I won't just be some dusty skull in a grave? Although Hamlet is right in saying that there's not much remaining of all those people in a material sense, he's still partially wrong; at least for Alexander the Great and Caesar, they were able to amass a legacy that will live through the ages. Their works, for better or for worse, transcended time and their nations. Certain pursuits, it seems, endure the ages and become immortalized in the writings and memories of our descendants. While I don't think I'm quite nearly cut out to be a conquerer or an emperor, nor do I want to be, this moment of Shakespeare's imbued the importance of acting beyond our lifetime. As Thoreau put it, we must "suck the marrow out of life," so that each day is not lost and that our works may help future generation. So in many ways, this scene may have been the most salient passage of all the books we've perused at Regis.

Art critic Robert Hughes once said that it's not about teaching students literature that's "relevant to their experience," because, in fact, writing creates experience. I wholly agree. Some may say that Shakespeare is a dead white male incapable of imparting anything to a modern reader. They would be wrong. Instead, Shakespeare's plays—being so unlike reality at points—waft readers away to private sanctuaries. From a forest where fairies and lovers intermingle to a lonely island filled with a motley gang of Italian nobles, we get glimpses into playful worlds that we could never imagine. My eyes have been opened while pacing along.

The Finale

When we read Othello last year, the class was more focused on text analysis and so I didn't really consider the fact that Shakespeare's plays were written to be performed. However, in this Shakespeare course, I was able to integrate the performance aspect into my understanding of Shakespeare. This was highlighted by our trip to see the production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream at the Pearl Theatre. This production far exceeded my expectations, but also revealed to me why the play was a romantic comedy. Reading and analyzing the book did not quite show me the “comedy” genre it is associated with, despite the scenes with the Rude Mechanicals. However, the live production of the play showed me why it truly was a romantic comedy. Perhaps, it was the director’s witty and modern interpretations of certain scenes, but the actors and actresses were simply hilarious. The sudden shifts from drama to comedy were strengthened by the music and the lighting on stage. From an optimistic setting, the stage sudden changes to a darker color and music, one that immediately momentarily stops the audience’s hearts and keeps them in suspense.

The opening scene was very confusing, one that I still do not quite understand. Only knowing that it was supposed to be a scene of the capture of Hippolyta, I was puzzled at the actors and actresses’ changing of characters. However, as the play progressed, it became quite clear who played which character. It was quite interesting to see that the costumes worn on stage were athletic track gears with glow-in-the-dark stripes; it was essential and fitting, however, given the amount of passionate energy the characters displayed. What truly made me awe at creativity was the director’s interpretation of the character Snug the joiner. Literally interpreting the word “joiner,” the director had an actor and actress join their heads together and act as one. I truly thought that the characters the actors and actresses played best were the Rude Mechanicals. Jason O’Connell, who played Nick Bottom, made every action and movement display his character’s desire to control everyone’s part. The controversial relationship between Peter Quince and Nick Bottom was shown to be one of harmonious love. The director showed Quince and Bottom hugging after every command Bottom made to his fellow comrades. Later on in the scene when the Rude Mechanicals performed their play of Pyramus and Thisbe, we see that the criticisms said by the Athenian nobles were heard by the Rude Mechanicals. When Moonshine was criticized, the actress said her lines with a sudden stopping and proceeded to sob. However, the play quickly escalates to one of laugher as the crevice of the wall originally shown in the play as a V sign, was now hilariously the pelvis area. Although this was my first experience of watching a live Shakespeare production, I dare to say that no other productions, be it movies or videos, have made me laugh as hard as this production at the Pearl Theatre Company. 

This performance aspect was further integrated with our Hamlet paper and our own live production. While the Hamlet paper allowed us to think of how we want to have our production conducted, the final performance allowed me to act and see it live with my own eyes. Fortunately enough, I was in the Hamlet group for the final performance and was able to put my idea of the "to be or not to be" soliloquy on a live stage. Preparing for the final performance ourselves and working with my peers was a valuable experience as I came to understand and see Shakespeare's works in different angles from the various interpretations of the text. 

The Significance of Setting

The first sentence of the course description reads, "Shakespeare never wrote for a classroom; he wrote for an audience."  So, it was no surprise when, one day, Mr. Kiczek pulled the clunky projector down in room 312 and began to show us a film clip; it had become commonplace in the course. When he began to show a part of the Globe Theater's production of The Tempest, I noticed something quite unique.  Caliban, Prospero's "poisonous slave" (1.2.383), entered the stage covered from head-to-toe in clay-colored paint.  Interestingly, the colors of the paint perfectly matched Caliban's clay-colored cave and various other parts of the stage.  This simple gesture taught me an invaluable lesson: one's surrounding environment plays a pivotal role in one's development.

In the Globe's adaptation of The Tempest, the use of color tells an incredible amount about Caliban's development, and how his experience with his environment (the island) has shaped him.  In one of his first lines, Caliban says to Prospero, "This island's mine by Sycorax, my mother, / which thou tak'st from me.  When thou cam'st first, / Thou strok'st me and made much of me" (1.2.397-399).  Clearly, Caliban claims that the island is his; it belonged to his mother, so he feels that he is the rightful owner.  The Globe's version realizes the import of this fact and, by painting Caliban the same color as the stage, constantly reminds the viewer of Caliban's roots in the island.  Caliban also includes his relationship with Prospero as part of his current disposition: Caliban feels that Prospero has mistreated him, that the colonizer has oppressed the colonized.  By painting Caliban, the Globe emphasizes Caliban's supposed innocence as the victim of Prospero's persecution. In addition, Caliban's coloring matches the great vertical columns, suggesting that he seeks to rise to power once again, and to reestablish his claim to the island.  All of his animosity towards Prospero, mixed with his lineage, lead him to seek power.  Thus, the Globe's decision to paint Caliban reveals so much about the character's situation. Shakespeare plays with this idea of environment many a time in his plays, especially those encountered in this course.

The setting of A Midsummer Night's Dream explains so much about each of the characters.  Helena, Hermia, Demetrius, Lysander, and Theseus all come from Athens, a prominent Greek city, where power lies in the hands of the duke.  On the other hand, Puck, Oberon, Titania, and all the fairies come from the woods, where magic reigns.  Thus, when the Athenian characters enter into the woods, it becomes quite clear that the power remains in the hands of the magicians; simply put, it is the fairies environment, and they can control it.  

In Hamlet, Hamlet's entire downfall is caused by his unstable environment.  He begins the play as an unbalanced character, but his insecurities only become magnified as he is pressured by his environment.  He feels the burden of his father's recent death.  He grows angry at his mother's lack of mourning and her all-too-quick marriage to Claudius.  The coming of his father's ghost.  These unwanted changes in his life open the door to his tragic end.  

And, of course, setting plays possibly the largest role in The Tempest.  Although Caliban wears the colors of the island in the Globe's production, it is clear to all that Prospero controls every aspect of the isle.  He causes the shipwreck.  He has power over each person who sets foot on that island. Yet, environment plays an even greater factor in this play than what meets the eye.  After all, what caused Prospero to leaved Milan in the first place?  Those around him, namely his brother Antonio, had forced him away.  These events were totally outside of Prospero's authority but, when he moves to the island, everything is inside his realm of power.  A change of setting has transformed him from a man with nothing to a man with everything.

Through Shakespeare's works, the meaning of environment has become abundantly more clear to me. After viewing that fragment of the Globe's production, I have realized the extreme importance of setting in everyday life.  There are an incalculable number of factors in a person's "setting" today; as in Shakespeare's plays, "setting" constitutes much more than physical location.  It also encompasses wealth, family situation, friends, and countless other parts.  But, is it really possible to define a person independent of setting?  No--the real Caliban can never remove his discoloration.

"Are we in the right place?"

 “Are we watching the wrong play?”

I remember asking this question as the lights of the theater dimmed and a man began screeching and bellowing like a monkey. It was the first play I had ever watched so I was not sure what to expect. I thought the entire play would be monotonous and lifeless with the occasional joke to make sure the audience didn’t fall completely asleep. So it was a big surprise to see the actors immediately start with a compelling, energetic interpretation of the opening scene of the play. At that moment, I knew I was in for a long night full of laughter.

Prior to this performance, I had lukewarm feelings about A Midsummer Night’s Dream. While I enjoyed reading it, I hardly ever laughed at any of the passages that seemed like they were meant to be funny. The words themselves seemed dull and without life. I knew from my previous encounters with Shakespeare that his works were better seen than read but I simply could not see much humor or entertainment in anything other than the antics of the Rude Mechanicals. However, after our class trip, my view on the play completely changed. Seeing how five actors and the creative director could breathe so much life into what previously looked like dry words on a page to me altered my perspective on the play and made me truly appreciate A Midsummer Night’s Dream as a form of entertainment. For example, the way the director played around with the chink in the wall that separated Pyramus and Thisbe was simply something I never would have thought of while reading the play. Little additions and interpretations like this made me reconsider what I thought I knew about A Midsummer Night’s Dream and Shakespeare as a whole.

As a result of the performance, I received a greater understanding of Shakespeare. I came to the complete realization of how truly important it is to witness Shakespeare’s works rather than simply reading his plays. The energy and emotion put into the play by actors is something that cannot be felt by looking at words in a book. The interesting interpretations different directors have for each of Shakespeare’s works can completely change the way you understand his plays like it did for me.

The Dark Prince

First level came with the Hamlet production letter—marinating in the big soliloquy’s over and over again until a lucid enough vision of the play emerged into mind. To justify my production, I had been looking for lines that really outlined the suffering of life that would go along with my production’s setting—a miserable colony, Roanoke to be specific, in the, so to speak, “undiscover’d country from whose bourn / no traveler returns” (1.3.80-81).  I brought up a lot of lines from the soliloquy that originated the abovementioned phrase in my paper, and, as horrifically sentimental as it sounds, the language kept on rolling around my skull with their emotional weight as I threw the words onto paper: “thus conscience does make cowards of us all,” “for who would bear the whips and scorns of time,” and especially “for in that sleep of death what dreams may come / when we have shuffled off this mortal coil.”

            But then came memorizing those very same lines for the performance—the second level, as it were. Not only stringing the words together in proper order: my mind would subconsciously substitute in synonyms for certain words or remove words entirely for the sake of what felt right to me instead of sticking to the text, and fixing those errors made me wholly aware of the powerful quality to certain word choice in the “to be or not to be” soliloquy. Why one should say “outrageous fortune” instead of “outrageous misfortune,” or “the thousand natural shocks” instead of just “the thousand shocks;” this discipline forced me to come to terms with the true injustices and emotions dealt with in the soliloquy.

            Madness and personality came after memorization. What movements felt natural: should Hamlet be calmly sipping a glass of scotch as he laments the scorns of time, or should he be absolutely freaking out? To be candid, I found myself constantly being drawn back to that awesome interrogation scene from the “The Dark Knight:” a wholly dynamic scene that heavily relies on emotional volatility, a characteristic that I think works especially well with the hyper intelligent and possibly hyper mad character of Hamlet—thus the sweeps from calmness to craziness that I hopefully conveyed in my performance yesterday. Essentially, in trying to evolve from a prosaic delivery of the text into the emotions and enterprises of great pitch and moment that define a character, I grew into a third-derivative appreciation for Shakespeare—the final link to realizing how these characters were written for viewers, not necessarily readers, in the diverse emotions they lend themselves too. Truly all molds of emotive humanity—I tested out a lot of different performance styles for this scene before settling on “calm-angry-crazy,” everything from the aforementioned “wistfully-drunk-reflective” to “charitably-whimsical-casual.” And though I had to make a choice in the end, so many different styles (and hundreds of styles more, I am sure) felt right in their delivery—in other words, I came to the daunting realization that the themes of these plays, or at least the theme of pointless mortality in Hamlet, fit right into the folds of all styles of humanity, even mine. And that will keep me coming back for more.

A Million Different Quinces

            In many English classes throughout my Regis career, I have felt that the in-class textual analysis was focused on one or two central themes, and the discussions that followed almost strictly stuck to those themes.  While reading Dubliners, we focused on the imprisoning and stifling setting of Ireland; while reading Frankenstein we focused on the danger of knowledge and the idea of appearance.  In this class, however, while guided in discussions focused on central themes, we held the reins, and our assignments fully captured the freedom we had in the class.  Our A Midsummer Night’s Dream paper had five prompts, each representing an essential theme, but we always had the option of creating a prompt of our own.  The Hamlet paper also had very few guidelines—while we had to include certain elements, almost every aspect of the production was ours to create, including the setting, the stage directions, the actors, etc.  The final project capped off what was a very experimental and exhilarating trimester.  Through actually being able to direct a scene, we fully embodied the ideas of personal poetic interpretation and textual analysis, while being able to create art!  In fact, other than the drive to get a good grade, a very important incentive existed with the final project: the want to entertain!  I worked hard memorizing my lines and stage directions so that those who viewed my scene would feel joy and would laugh at my drunken antics, and while reciting lines over and over wasn’t necessarily fun, the license to create a set and design costumes and set the lighting was definitely a great experience.

Yet what was even more amazing than the design of the mechanics of the production was the lead-up to the performance.  Initially practicing my lines, I thought of Mr. Milea and his portrayal of Quince as nervous and jittery. Stupidly trying to emulate him, I almost completely copied his style of performance.  Luckily I soon realized I possessed neither the skill nor the personality to put on such a performance, so I changed my outlook.  I started to have fun with it, and only after reciting prologue after prologue in various voices while wearing various costumes did I realize that there really existed infinite different Quinces, all of whom would be perfect for the production.  I tried the stupid Quince, one who had no idea how to speak correctly or monitor volume (as I wore baggy pants and a dunce hat).  I tried the quiet and intelligent yet out-of-place Quince by wearing a neat shirt and tie and speaking softly and slowly.  The beauty of the whole thing was that one Quince wasn’t objectively better than the next, yet I had the power to choose which I wanted my rendition of A Midsummer Night’s Dream to portray (so I picked the drunken Quince, naturally).  And after my performance, I spoke to Mr. Milea and as I told him how our Quinces were very different, his simple response was a fitting culmination, I believe, of our Shakespeare class.  His response, while I do not remember the exact words, was along the lines of, “Yeah, they were different, but it’s all the better that way!”

            As cliché as it sounds, it was this very subjectivity that allowed me to appreciate the idea of perspective not just within the theater, but also how it relates to the world at large.  And while there was no single moment or assignment that particularly catalyzed this revelation, the class, slowly through performance and close reading, taught me to think in different ways, to try to comprehend the meanings of plays from different angles, and to have the open-mindedness to accept other people’s views of these timeless masterpieces.  I’m happy that I didn’t steal Mr. Milea’s execution of Quince’s prologue, just as I was happy and entertained to see the other groups conduct their own forms of Shakespeare plays that I would not have imagined myself.  For example, Brit O’Daly’s crazed and contemporary “to be or not to be” soliloquy, using a chalkboard and Siri, was quite original, and this originally made the performance so great and memorable.

To prove this idea of perspective, I have added two clips, two starkly different performances of Hamlet’s “what a piece of work is a man” speech.  While the clips stand in such contrast, I believe that both are beautiful and telling portrayals of Hamlet’s character and are central to the overall meaning of the production, a testament to how there is no single correct way to portray any Shakespeare play, and that the differences in performance make Shakespeare's work so telling and entertaining.

A Tempest of Tools and Toils

            In my past four years I have had a number of eye-opening experiences in English class, but never have I had experiences like those I have had in this Shakespeare class.  The words from William Shakespeare started as foreign to me, not understanding his terminology, yet I have come to read his works with some fluency, having contact with his antiquated vocabulary.  I came to this realization in Hamlet when I started seeing “’A” as “he,” a common note given in A Midsummer Night’s Dream.  The skill of understanding an author’s language applies to many authors, throughout all literature.  After reading Shakespeare I have sharpened my ability to read into what an author means, even when I am not familiar with their word choice.  

            I have especially appreciated the variety of themes used by Shakespeare throughout his works.  There is not simply the theme of love or death that is present alone in any work, these are mixed with many other themes which make Shakespeare’s works so interesting.  A Midsummer Night’s Dream discusses love, but also uses the lovers’ disposition to reveal some social imperfections within Athenian culture.   Hamlet, although loaded with death as a motif, there are amazing scenes reflecting religion and young love between Hamlet and Ophelia. Then The Tempest is truly the combination of all these themes, as there are dancing skulls and pressured lovers, invisible spirits and secret conspiracies.  All the themes present in Hamlet or A Midsummer Night’s Dream are also present in The Tempest, demonstrating just how diversified one work by Shakespeare can be.  The love of Hermia and Lysander can be connected to the other tested love of Miranda and Ferdinand, the conspiracy of Claudius seems similar to the conspiracies of Alonso and Antonio.  I was astounded at how all these themes could be present in one piece of literature and have started to see how my own life reflects these different themes all at once.

            One other impressive aspect of reading Shakespeare's works this year is how they can come to life like no other literature.  The staging of the performances in class was amazing.  His words are not meant to be read alone, but be spoken with actions.  Then being able to see it acted out professionally was something that you do not get from reading The Scarlet Letter, but brings out sections of the text that had previously gone unnoticed.  Watching the performance of A Midsummer Night’s Dream really brought out the humor and importance of the Rude Mechanical’s play.  It has been the most enjoyable part of the course, watching professionals and peers reenact the scenes that so much class time was spent covering, and I look forward to seeing the influence that these experiences of bringing literature to life will have over my future reading of Shakespeare and others.

Spectacle at the Theatre

The most impactful part of the class was most certainly seeing A Midsummer Night's Dream at the Pearl Theatre. While I enjoyed reading A Midsummer Night's Dream for class, I had still felt that something was missing. The text in and of itself felt bare, reminiscent of Plato's Allegory of the Cave. The text itself can be rich, but is nonetheless a mere shadow of reality without an engine to manifest itself. For me, this engine was the lively performance at the Pearl Theatre. When we first arrived, I didn't know exactly what to expect. If anything, I was expecting the actors to do a routine similar to the videos for the class. I expected an antique wardrobe and thick British accents—boy was I in for a pleasant surprise. Never did I expect five brilliant actors whom put on a rendition of the play that seemed to good to be true. Indeed, the Lindy Effect and variants thereof would posit that the survival of Shakespeare's work itself is proof of is timelessness—seeing the text incarnate solidified this notion all the more potently.

For one, seeing the play performed galvanized its comedic aspects. While a play about fairies, ass-heads, and talking walls couldn't have been less austere, seldom did I laugh out loud while reading the text. While watching the play, on the other hand, I had to try and suppress my laughter at numerous points in the play so that those around me could still hear the performance. Among others, the primary source of my enjoyment emanated from Jason O'Connell's portrayal of Bottom. While he comes off as an egomaniacal dilettante in the text, Bottom is played with a refreshing clarity. It was perhaps O'Connell's micro-expressions that added to his part most substantially. The subtleties of Bottom's character were captured with mastery, and made the play all the more enjoyable. It is these minor subtleties that can only be manifested in a performance, and is what makes Shakespeare's plays  most enjoyable.

Just How Serious was Shakespeare?

     In Mr. Vode's Junior English class, class discussions on Othello were intensely, perhaps even unnecessarily, spiritual.  I enjoyed learning of connections between "the light entering the darkness" in Luke's Gospel and Othello's tendency toward that same spiritual light, as well as analyzing Desdemona's "Christ impulses." Reading Shakespeare as literary genius whose works overflowed with deep meaning and symbolism made his works blend well with others in the junior year curriculum, and thus, more palatable and approachable.
       However, when watching Trinculo and Stephano in the 2010 film version of the play, I came to see Shakespeare's definite attempts to appeal to the illiterate and uneducated. Seeing Trinculo as played by Russel Brand, a famous comedian I had known prior to seeing the film, invalidated my view of Shakespeare as only a brooding and somber scholar. The sheer idiocy of the characters' actions, their garish clothing, and their general lack of composure and intelligence, along with absurd situation in which Stephano discovers Trinculo (hiding under a small sheet alongside Caliban, who believes he is a spirit, while Trinculo believes Caliban is dead) had no place in my current conception of Shakespeare, yet they were undoubtedly supported by the text.

     Trinculo's stupidity and Stephano's drunkenness showed me Shakespeare sought to entertain both the literary critic and the common playgoer of his time. In fact, I have found that many scenes that I previously regarded as solemn and contemplative, such as Hamlet's encounter with Yorick's skull, Iago's successful attempts to alarm Brabantio that "an old black ram is tupping your white ewe," and even Romeo and Juliet's grandiose expressions of love, also have comedic aspects to them. I even consider that possibility that Shakespeare intended them to be entirely comedic, and we twenty-first century readers merely impose an interloping seriousness to his words.

A Night at the Theatre

Going to the production of A Midsummer Night's Dream in the fall of my senior year was very meaningful.  I had never been on a class field trip like is offered by some teachers, so going on a trip with Mr. Kiczek and the class was a new experience.  The dinner at Ollie's Chinese restaurant was totally appropriate seeing as how we were going to see a play written by an Englishman in the sixteenth century.  Sarcasm aside, it was a great chance to get to know my classmates better.
But more seriously, the production was a memorable night.  I had one very specific expectation of what the play was going to look like as I entered the theatre: the production of the same play in the 1989 movie Dead Poets Society.  I expected trees and flowery set designs.  I expected gentle music and the sounds of birds chirping in the woods.  I expected somebody who resembled Neil Perry (Robert Sean Leonard) to be playing Puck, looking like a happy little woodland creature.

Instead, the music sounded like Tarzan, the set design and props were nonexistent, and, frankly, Puck scared me.  I was confused as to how this could possibly be A Midsummer Night's Dream and wondered if the next two hours of my life were going to be wasted.  By the end, I had laughed a lot and understood more about the play than I ever could have learned by just reading it.  I had forgotten about the fact that it wasn't "traditional Shakespeare" and had been thoroughly entertained--certainly not time wasted.  I was surprised at myself.  I discovered through the performance just exactly why Shakespeare is still acted out in theaters around the world in the year 2015.  The same words can still get a laugh out of an audience.  I don't use the words 'doth,' 'art,' and 'whence' in my daily conversations, but coming from the mouths of the actors in the play, it was genuinely funny.  I'll have a lot of memories from high school, but seeing this 400 year old play on a September evening in a dark little theatre will certainly be a moment I'll look back on and say, "That experience was worthwhile."

Prospera's Power

Throughout Shakespeare's tragic comedy, The Tempest, Prospero uses his magic and supernatural powers to influence the course of events.  Throughout the play, Shakespeare makes clear that Prospero's power is external; it comes from his "magic gament[s]" (1.2.20)--namely his staff and his cloak--rather than his own being.  Therefore, Prospero has the ability to relinquish his power, just as he eventually does in Act 5, and explains this action in a powerful soliloquy.

Helen Mirren's depiction of Prospera (the female Prospero) in the 2010 film version of The Tempest provides viewers with an interesting perspective on Shakespeare's play.  The film expertly uses body language, imagery, and line delivery to portray the three stages of Prospera's power mentioned in her soliloquy: her rise to power, her dominance at her height of power, and her letting-go of power.

In the first part of the soliloquy, the movie scene gradually builds in order to relay that Prospera's power is growing.  Prospera begins her speech by calling out various characters, including "elves of hills, brooks, standing lakes, and groves" (5.1.42) and "demi-puppets" (5.1.45).  While these characters seem quite obscure, Prospera admits that she has used these "[w]eak masters" (5.1.50) to increase her own power.  In the movie scene, Mirren starts to draw a circle in the sand as she calls out these supernatural beings.  But, only after she mentions each of these creatures does she complete the circle; each one was necessary for her to create completely her power base.  Also, as she delivers these lines, her voice increases in volume to show that she has gained confidence in her power and ability, and was more willing to assert it.  As the scene continues, the amount of light on set increases dramatically; at first, the set was almost entirely black, but gradually becomes lighter, as if Prospera's power has changed the set-lighting.

The Tempest movie brilliantly depicts Prospera as she explains the immeasurable magnitude of her power as it reached its apex.  After she has completed the circle, Mirren uses Prospera's staff to set fire to it.  As this occurs, the scene immediately shifts from powerful to absolutely epic.  Prospera explains that she has "bedimmed / The noontide sun, called forth the mutinous winds, / and 'twixt the green sea" (5.1.50-52) and has "rifted Jove's stout oak" (5.1.54).  As Mirren proclaims these lines, the camera begins to rotate around her, as though it was tracing the circle. Mirren continues the soliloquy, and the camera moves faster and faster.  Interestingly, the shot encompasses all of the classical elements: fire, earth, wind, and water, that were elaborated upon in Shakespeare's lines.  The earth can be found in the land behind Mirren, the fire in the circle that surrounds her, the blue of water in her dress, and the wind in the movement of the clouds.  Yet, Mirren stays virtually still at the center.  Thus, the movie reveals that, while she was at the height of her power, Prospera could control all nature around her and, quite literally, became the center of the world.

At the conclusion of Prospera's soliloquy, the movie slows the scene down, in an attempt to highlight Prospera's internal power.  After she has discussed all the powers of her magic, Mirren takes a long pause.  The camera stops rotating, and the circle disappears.  Mirren begins to talk in a lower volume, and the camera zooms in on her.  The set becomes dark once again.  Although it appears that Prospera has lost all of her power because the special effects have disappeared, this thought is misleading.  In reality, the scene shifts from Prospera's external power to her internal power.  And, quite frankly, her internal power is more meaningful because it trumps her external power; she aims to "break [her] staff" (5.1.63) and to "drown [her] book" (5.1.66).  In reality, this moment is as powerful as the second part of the soliloquy, if not more.  Prospera has finally decided to give up her powers and, as a result, grants freedom to virtually everyone in the play.

In conclusion, the film rendering of The Tempest does a fantastic job of depicting Prospera's soliloquy; it uses a unique combination of body language, set design/special effects, and line delivery to present an extraordinary perspective of Prospera's soliloquy.  Often, critics say that Shakespeare used this character of Prospero/Prospera to deliver a message to his audience regarding his own legacy. Indeed, this soliloquy from Prospero almost undoubtedly represents Shakespeare's thoughts on his own success as a writer.  At the pinnacle of his career, Shakespeare had control of the entire universe contained in his plays.  Like Prospero, however, he realized that he needed to put down his instruments for magical power at the end of The Tempest.