Ok, I had to get all those stories out of the way, sorry about that. For me, those were the highlight of the night.
How was the play? It was good. Fine. I’m not a big fan of this one because there’s not really a lot to work with. The plot is thin, the characters for the most part are so shallow a casual audience-member will easily lose track of which one is which. And the ending is just nuts.
It dawned on me this year that AYLI is basically a teen sitcom storyline. It’s all “OMG he likes me what do I do what do I say?!!” with lots of giddy screaming and running around. It’s definitely funny at parts, a real crowd pleaser when it’s being over the top obvious and not lost in the wordplay. But there’s nothing to sink your teeth into and discuss.
Or is there?
I don’t know if I just never noticed it, or this production really played up the angle, but it seemed this year that Ganymede leaned really heavily on the “How can you not see that I’m Rosalind?” moments. He says, talk to me like you’d talk to Rosalind Just go ahead and call me Rosalind. There’s even an awkward scene with a kiss. Orlando’s confused about a lot of feelings, to put it mildly.
Which got me thinking, Maybe this is obvious to the younger crowd maybe I’m just an old man trying to understand. But …let’s start the play in the forest. Orlando meets a new friend, Ganymede. Ganymede certainly looks and talks and presents himself like a fellow boy. But Ganymede’s also obviously much more comfortable talking about girl things. He wants to tell Orlando what girls want. He wants Orlando to talk to him like a girl. And then, just like that, one day Ganymede is gone and Rosalind is in their place.
We the audience know that it’s Rosalind disguised as Ganymede. But, and I’m sure I’m going to get my terminology wrong here, what if Ganymede was in fact a character that on the outside was presenting themselves to the world like a male, but inside, identified as female? Until one day they are?
Orlando, for his part, doesn’t seem to have a problem with his attraction for this character, either. I don’t think Orlando cares who Ganymede identifies as. Is that what they mean by “pan”?
I don’t really know where I’m going with this. Like I said, I’m just an old dad trying to understand a lot of new things. Tell me that AYLI isn’t just about “gender bending” and “cross dressing,” tell me it’s about gender identity, and suddenly I’m paying attention. Then it’s something more than just a farce to laugh at. Then it’s got a point to make the audience think about.
How about I get off my soapbox now and share some pictures?
Rosalind and CeliaTouchstoneJaquesGanymede and OrlandoOrlando as WolverineDon’t get on Duke Frederick’s bad sideThe Wedding
Here we go again! As I’ve gotten older I’ve started telling myself, “It’s ok if I miss Shakespeare on Boston Common this year.” The kids have gotten older, schedules are busy. And, perhaps most importantly, they’re doing As You Like It – which they did back in 2008, which I saw, and reviewed.
But then I tell myself, “This is my night. This over all other days is my chance to bask in my Shakespeare world and go surround myself with all things Shakespeare.”
A little taste of Arden Forst while I get the interesting stories out of the way.
So I did what I also do every year. I dressed up in merch – this time donning my “Shakespeare Makes Life Better” long-sleeve – and filled up my little goodies sack with an assortment of stickers, magnets, and 3D Shakespeares, and we were off. We had a special guest this year, as my daughter’s got a new friend who is both obsessed with Shakespeare and has never been to a free Shakespeare in the park show. So she’s all in.
We stop for gas before heading into Boston, pulling in behind a big (big) pickup truck. That happens to have its backup lights on. So as I get out, not wanting him to roll into me accidentally or something, I say, “Hey did you know that your…” and then they go off. “Never mind, I say.” The driver of the big (big) pickup is a big fellow in his own right. He’s not giving “biker,” but he’s definitely the size and shape of somebody who you wouldn’t want to mess with at the bar.
So he’s pumping his gas, I’m pumping mine, and I can see out of the corner of my eye that he hasn’t stopped looking at me. Have I offended him in some way by mentioning his lights? Does he think I’m stupid because I didn’t know they’d go off? I avoid his gaze for as long as I can.
“Are you an English teacher?” he asks.
I get it immediately. “No,” I say, “Just a fan.” He looks confused. “I assume you’re referring to my shirt?” I ask.
“Yeah,” he says.
“We’re big Shakespeare fans. We’re actually going in to Boston tonight to see Shakespeare in the Park.”
“Oh,” he says. “What play?”
“As You Like It,” I tell him.
“That’s a good one!” he says, looking … wistful? I wonder what he was thinking.
So, that’s one Shakespeare encounter I did not expect. You never know who you’re going to connect with around Shakespeare.
We get to the park, and the normal routine begins, which basically amounts to keeping busy for almost 2 hours waiting for the show to begin. I take the easy way out of my mission, handing my bag of Shakespeare goodies to the kids and saying, “Your mission is to find people to give stuff to.” And off they go. Once they’re gone I of course think, “I should have kept some for myself, I hope they don’t give everything away.” But they don’t, they’re back soon enough to let me know that they gave out some stickers.
The night progresses, the crowd grows There are volunteers walking around who have programs to give out, as well as stickers of their own. The longer I wait, a plan forms in my head. I’ll give something to a volunteer. I’ll tell them, “How often does somebody give you something?” I have two 3d printed Shakespeares left. One is bigger than the other. I will wait until one of the volunteers comes by alone because it would be rude to give two different sizes. Yes, I think about these things. Maybe it comes from having kids and having “everybody gets the same” drilled into my brain. Or maybe I’m just thinking of excuses to chicken out like I do every year.
The darker it gets, the less they wander, and I’m missing my opportunity. Finally a young man walks by who we’ve already seen before. He’s given a program and stickers to the young couple next to us. He’d asked me if I needed a program, too, but we already had a couple. I try to get his attention, but he walks past, and I think that’s it, it’s dark, show’s starting, my chance is past.
Until he’s standing next to me. “Did you need something?” he asks.
I brandish a tiny Shakespeare. “For you,” I say.
He’s speechless. “Wait, really?” he says. “Seriously?”
“You’re out here giving everybody free stuff, how often does anybody give you anything?” I ask.
“Never!” he says, “Nobody’s ever given me anything!”
“Well exactly!” I tell him. “Now you can go show off to the other volunteers that you got something.”
And he does, I watch as he goes over to the two nearest volunteers to excitedly show them his prize, gesturing back at me (probably, “Look what the guy in the Shakespeare Makes Life Better shirt just gave me!”) One of them looks over to me, I make eye contact and smile. Had she come over, I would have given her the other Shakespeare. I don’t know what I would have done if both of them had.
It gets better.
I’m enjoying this. I made somebody happy with Shakespeare. Many people have commented on my shirt. It’s a good night, I don’t want it to end (even though the show hasn’t even begun!) The young woman next to us has been friendly and polite, having first asked if she could sit there (not a courtesy that is always shown), and asking me questions about how the show is organized. So I fish one of my magnets out of the bag and reach it over to her. “Would you like a magnet?” I ask. She definitely would. There’s a funny age gap at work here – as somebody of Dad age, I think that giving out stuff like stickers is childish and, no, nobody wants a sticker. But I have yet to meet a 20-something, all my kids now included, who doesn’t say, “Hell yeah I want a sticker.” Or in this case, a magnet.
“You’re bringing so much joy,” she says.
She has no idea how much that meant to me. I’ve tried to build up the courage for years to be the guy who exudes Shakespeare wherever he goes. “Shakespeare makes life better” isn’t just a tagline for a website. I deeply and truly believe it and want to put actions to words. Tonight, finally, I got to do that. I got to bring joy to people, through Shakespeare, and even have it acknowledged. I don’t remember when I’ve been happier.
This is a long post, and I never even talked about the play. I guess that’ll have to be part two!
I have some news that’s equal parts exciting and “here, let me put it on the table so you can see every card I’m holding.”
Last week I was accepted into the MasterClass affiliate program. That means if you click one of their links or banners on this site and end up subscribing, I earn a small commission—at no extra cost to you.
Relevance > Revenue
I didn’t go hunting for any affiliate program that would pay a buck. I specifically looked for something that overlaps with what we already obsess over here: Shakespeare, acting, storytelling. MasterClass happens to have Natalie Portman, Helen Mirren, Samuel L. Jackson, and more teaching exactly those topics. Trust me when I say this, I’m looking at all the different ad campaigns available to me now, and you won’t be seeing anything about mastering the markets or designing every space in your home. We do Shakespeare here, and I don’t plan to stray from that.
All Ads Are Not Created Equal
Look, I know there are ads on the site already. I hate them as much as you do. But I’m also not a fan of the fact that I’ve run this site (which means paying to host it) for many years, and never really tried to make money from it. My daughter was just born when I started. You know what? She’s finishing college this year. You know what else? That costs a lot of money. I hope no one begrudges me that.
Where I can make money to offset my costs, I have to consider my options. And even though I have my core of loyal readers, I have thousands of anonymous people dropping in from Google searches, too. So, not monetizing their traffic is just leaving money on the table, honestly.
I’d much rather make money through partnerships like this. They’re less invasive, more relevant, and ultimately, I make more revenue. So if you bear with me for a little while as I continually try to optimize this area of site maintenance, I think we’ll all benefit in the long run. Click on some banners, explore what MasterClass (and possibly soon other affiliates) have to offer. Not for you? Maybe something you could give as a gift to the actor or Shakespeare geek in your life?
Of Course There Are Always Other Ways
Visit the Shakespeare Geek Merchandise Shop
I’m going to go ahead here and say that merchandise sales can be a great alternate source of revenue, too! Please make it a point to stop by the Shakespeare Geek Merchandise Shop before you leave! What were we just saying about gifts for your friends?)
Or, you know, if you want, you can just go ahead and “buy me a coffee” as they say. I appreciate donations in all forms.
The Content Won’t Change
I’ve been in the web game for a very long time. I know all the tricks for how to “optimize” your content when really that means optimizing my revenue, not your experience. That’s not what this is about. I’m not planning on suddenly coming up with posts about how “Shakespeare Shows You How To Master The Markets” just so I can pull more Google traffic and get more clicks. I’ll say it again – we got here by talking about Shakespeare, and that’s not going to change.
Try Before You Commit
MasterClass offers a 30-day refund window. If you dip in and it isn’t for you, you can cancel – commission revoked, guilt-free.
TL;DR
I’m thrilled to partner with a platform whose acting courses line up with the work we already love. If you ever feel the ads are getting in the way, email me—seriously. The curtain only stays up when everyone in the audience can still see the stage.
Thanks for reading, and for trusting me with your inbox and your time.
Break legs, Duane
P.S. If you’d like to check out the acting lineup (and maybe support the site while you’re at it), you can start here: MasterClass Acting.
I don’t know if Brandon E. Burton created the term, but he’s using it to refer to their method of prep and rehearsal:
The actors are given a playbook, have only four days to rehearse, and often only know the last line their fellow actors will be saying. The playwright acts as the director, and if you read his instructions carefully you know how to play your part. That’s the way Shakespeare did it and that’s why its called ‘extreme.’
Makes sense to me, and I’d love to see notes from the actors on what it means to them. Much like the Original Pronunciation (OP) approach, there’s something extra added to productions that go out of their way to bring more of Shakespeare’s time and place to the performance.
Sorry, Titus.
Has anyone ever done this? I know I’ve got plenty of actors and directors in the crowd. What do you think about the playbook approach where you only know your own lines and interactions? I’ve been led to believe that there are movies that sometimes do this, often to prevent leaking story twists too soon. For Shakespeare I’m sure it was more about efficiency, cost, and other practical factors.
So Extreme Shakespeare is just … Shakespeare the way Shakespeare wanted it?
I’ve heard it a thousand times, “Shakespeare wasn’t meant to be read. He’s meant to be performed.” And sure, yes, go see Shakespeare. I’d never say don’t do that. But that doesn’t mean reading Shakespeare is a lesser experience. In fact, I’d say the opposite.
There’s an opportunity for depth in reading Shakespeare that live performance can’t offer. Theatre is ephemeral. Blink and you’ll miss something important – a gesture, a line, an inflection choice. You can’t pause a stage play. You can’t rewind. But the text? The text is always there, waiting for you to come back to it.
Why Reading Shakespeare Might Be Better Than Watching It
Reading Shakespeare invites close reading in a way most literature doesn’t. Even the longest play, Hamlet, is only about 30,000 words – less than half the size of a typical novel. Caught up in the “oh, the language is so hard and archaic” argument, people miss how powerful this can be. There’s a lot of blank space in Shakespeare. Room for interpretation, Filling in your own thoughts on what he didn’t say, in a way that flows seamlessly with what he did. Was Ophelia pregnant? Whose idea was it to kill Duncan – Macbeth’s, or his wife’s?
When you read a novel, how often do you flip back through 70,000+ words to find a clue? I can’t be the only reader out there who has had that experience of realizing on some random page, “My mind was wandering, I don’t think I remember what happened over the last three pages.”
Available Now on Amazon
And with audiobooks, forget it. I love audiobooks, that’s all I listen to in the car. But I can’t tell you how often I’ll be struck with a thought and think, “Wait, what? Hold on, back up …” but you can’t do that. You know how, on a video streaming service, when you try to rewind (or fast forward), some show you the video and some don’t? And how that makes all the difference in being able nail exactly where you want to be? Audiobooks don’t have any of that. Trust me, I’ve often brainstormed my idea of the perfect audiobook app that would somehow keep a transcription going while you listened, allowing you to shout “Bookmark!” at any point and remember where you were for later. (I confess, I’ve sometimes been known to go grab the ebook version of an audiobook when I really, really want to know exactly what I missed.)
With Shakespeare, it’s all right there. I mean, it’s literally public domain, you can grab the text from dozens of sources, for free, whenever and however suits you. And then you can go straight to a scene, pick apart the dialogue, literally examining each word. For extra credit you can even look at multiple editions and compare different decisions that were made. You decide how to interpret what’s said, and more importantly, not said. You become part of the process.
Sure, some of the language will be unfamiliar. But that’s part of the reward. Read slowly. Use online glossaries. Let the context guide you. You’ll be amazed how much meaning unfolds when you stop trying to rush through and instead sit with the words. Half the time, it made no sense only because it went by so fast during that precious live performance that you didn’t have any time to stop and think about it. Now you do, as much as you need.
Shakespeare should be seen, absolutely. Go to the theatre, watch the films, enjoy the performances. But reading Shakespeare is what gives you ownership. It’s what stays with you. Not just “I liked the Fassbender Macbeth,” but “Here’s what I think Shakespeare was really saying.” And if you really want it to stay with you, get your hands on an “annotation copy” that’s intended for you to write down exactly what you feel about individual scenes.
That’s the joy. Not just watching, but thinking. Not just hearing the lines, but developing your own personal relationship with them. Make Shakespeare your own.
