The One Shakespeare Play Everyone Should See Before They Die, According to Experts

If you think you know what I’m going to say, I bet you’re wrong…

…because I have no idea how to answer that question.  I just get a kick out of that thing that happens in our brains that makes us compelled to click on subjects like that.

So let’s flip it. You, my local Shakespeare geeks, are the experts.  I don’t just say that to pander, although you are all looking simply smashing today.  I say that because I learned a long time ago that most if not all of my readers know more about Mr. Shakespeare than I did, and perhaps ever will.

So how do you answer the question?  Make your case.  Let’s here your single choice (no fair saying all of them), and your cred for where your opinion comes from.  If this post ever took off (as clickbait titles often do!) then plenty of people who don’t know their Cymbeline from their Coriolanus will be coming looking for actual advice, so let’s give it to them.

I’ve used this example before, but I used to work with a lady who was an English teacher in her former life.  I asked if she was a fan of Shakespeare. She replied, “If all evidence of human civilization were wiped off the face of the Earth except for one book, that book should be King Lear.”

I’m not going there, though. While I think King Lear is probably the best thing Shakespeare wrote, I don’t think that it appeals equally to all people at all stages of life.

For my vote I’m sticking true to form and going with The Tempest. It’s far from Shakespeare’s most well known, but I think it’s under appreciated.  It’s got a simple enough story line that you can introduce it to children (far, far simpler than A Midsummer Night’s Dream!  And it also has fairies.  Kind of.) But much like King Lear it can also be revisited later in life as a parent’s reflection on getting old, watching children grow, retiring from your pursuits and freeing yourself from the bonds you forged in life (sue me, I saw A Christmas Carol this weekend…)

As for cred, well, you’re looking at it. Shakespeare Geek has been live since 2005 and still pulling in a good number of visitors every day, so we must be doing something right. In that time I’ve raised three children on Shakespeare, so I very much practice what I preach. They seem to be doing ok with it.

HBO’s Gunpowder : Did I Call This One, Or What?

This summer when we got “Will” on the TNT basic cable network for 10 episodes, I said:

We watch a man’s intestines pulled out.  Another has what I believe was some sort of hot poker shoved down his throat.  Great, we get it, we live in a world where to go against the crown is to risk torture.  But you could just as easily have said “you risk losing your head” and had the same effect. Unless you want an audience turned on instead of off by that sort of thing. If I wanted that I know what channel Game of Thrones is on.

So imagine my surprise to read about HBO’s new Game of Thrones topper called Gunpowder, which at first I thought would be a western but turns out to be about, oh look!  Elizabethan England.  Specifically the Gunpowder Plot.

At first it looks as thought the young priest will be merely hung, but after he is hung, he is brought down, still breathing, and drawn and quartered. It’s…a lot.

The entire linked article is about how audiences are getting sick at this one and asks whether it’s too much.  Are they serious?  From that description, I already saw it earlier this summer.  What else you got?

Oh, and in case you were wondering about the sex to go with your violence? After all, Game of Thrones isn’t just about people getting their faces ripped off by dogs, it’s about people getting naked.  HBO’s still got your back with other people’s fronts:

So then we see what happens to the elegant older woman and the sweet young priest — and it truly is revolting. The woman is publicly stripped down for all to see, then slowly crushed to death between weights and a small, sharp rock.

But then again, so did Will:

But as I told one friend, “I didn’t realize that people were allowed to get that naked for that long.”  Seriously, it made me wonder whether they were going in and digitally erasing bits, because there’s literally nothing for them to strategically hide anything behind.

I guess the only difference between Gunpowder and Will then is … Will?  I checked the cast on IMDB, and none of our merry band of playwrights is mentioned.  My hope for humanity crumbles by the minute, though I’m not surprised.  Recipe for a successful show is more nudity, more gore, and less literature and historical accuracy.  Sigh.

I suppose having Jon Snow never hurts a show’s chances, though.

The Better Death Game

Kit Marlowe got a great death regardless of which story you believe – stabbed in the eye during a bar fight?  Faked his own death because he was a spy for the crown? Both awesome.

Shakespeare, on the other hand, likely got a really bad cold.  Maybe it was after a night of heavy drinking when his friends carried him home, maybe not.

So, here’s the game – write Shakespeare a better death. You get to change any details you want, including where he is (or isn’t) buried, and when.  What kind of dramatic end should we give him?  Did he have issues with his daughter’s husband, who had him killed? Did he sell his soul? Did the witches finally come for him?

The more creative (while still remaining about as feasible as any random Oxford theory you’ve heard), the better!

 

ADMIN : Comments Work Now!

Hello everybody!

I’ve heard from many regular contributors that ever since I switched to WordPress, commenting has been giving them trouble.  As in, it doesn’t work.

I am happy to report that with the help of Erin Nelsen Parekhthey seem to be working again!

In case her name looks familiar, Erin is the author of Behowl The Moon, a Shakespeare baby board book on Kickstarter last year.  In fact, some of the swag I got from backing that project is now part of the ever growing Shakespeare shrine on my desk!

Thanks Erin!  Sorry for the inconvenience, everybody.  Now let’s get those discussions heated again!

 

A Shakespeare Framework

A coworker challenged me to participate in NaNoWriMo, the National Novel Writer’s Month.  If you’re not familiar, this contest challenges writers to create a complete fifty thousand word novel in just thirty days. Technically November is past, but there’s no reason why you can’t attempt the challenge any month you like.

I’m not scared of word count. Most of the time you need me to cut words out.  What I can’t do is stream of consciousness for that long. I can’t just start writing and assume that a novel will plop out at the end.  I’m a computer programmer by trade, and you can’t just open up a text editor not knowing whether you’re going to end up with an ecommerce site or a mobile videogame.

What we do is start with a framework.  Just like a building has a floor, four walls and a roof, the same logic is true of software projects. A video game has backgrounds, sprites, controls, a scoreboard. An ecommerce site has navigation, a shopping cart, buy buttons.

So naturally before I’d attempt a novel I’d ask whether there’s a framework I can start with.  See where I’m going with this?  Whether it’s The Lion King, Forbidden Planet or West Side Story, there’s clear precedent for taking the minimal plot elements of a Shakespeare play and then rebuilding your own story. I immediately thought of doing something along the lines of The Tempest, although I’ll have to make it a point to stay out of Forbidden Planet territory.

What I was wondering, though, is whether we can make a framework out of all the plays. Everybody does Hamlet or King Lear or Romeo and Juliet. Could you use, say, Coriolanus as your starting point?  What would that look like?

Pick a play, and break it down to the minimal plot skeleton. Hamlet, Disney taught us, is any story where the uncle figure kills the king and the son has to take his rightful place on the throne. Romeo and Juliet has been reduced to “two groups of people don’t like each other, until one from each side falls in love.”

Pick a harder one. What’s the framework for A Midsummer Night’s Dream?