I have Brick Shakespeare in my collection, but I guess I’m not really sure what I expected.  Somebody tells you about a book of Lego Shakespeare and you think … what?  About the toys themselves? About a game, or a video?  It’s none of those things.

But this is.

For Shakespeare Day, Lego went ahead and actually animated some of the more famous scenes from Shakespeare:

I would watch Lego Shakespeare all day.  Make full versions of this and play it for the kids in school. More more more.

Is it that time again?  Why didn’t anybody tell me?

🙂

I was sorely tempted this year to practice restraint and just let Shakespeare Day come and go, and let the rest of the world climb on the bandwagon for the day. Then I could wait them all to get off tomorrow and I could get back on and enjoy the elbow room.

But I can’t do that, who am I kidding? Shakespeare Day is on a weekend this year, and I always hate that because I like having that live connection to you all, playing hashtag games and retweeting each other and basically throwing one big Shakespeare party.  Up until a couple of days ago I really didn’t know what I was going to do.

Then inspiration hit me, as it often does.  I started writing.  I started looking for ideas, and I found them, everywhere. Each night this week after my kids have gone to bed I stay up for another hour or two (or more) knocking out post after post until I’d queued up dozens of them.  Sure, some of them are going for quantity more than quality, I won’t deny that.  But I think there’s some gems coming up.  I hope you all like the final product.

With that, I’m going to go ahead and cut and paste something from past years because I think I said it the right way once and I don’t want to pretend to keep plagiarizing myself:

I like tradition. It’s a quote that comes from Ben Jonson, to the memory of his (and our) beloved. I’ve been looking forward to posting it here for days. It’s a simple line from a larger work, but I don’t know, to me it feels like more. It’s more of an incantation, a plea for the Master to return to us if just for a single day. I say it over and over again in my mind, and I imagine myself as Prospero on his island, opening one particular grave, waking one particular sleeper and letting him forth, by my most humble art. Thank you, Shakespeare, and Happy Birthday.


Here we go, and I’ll see you on the other side. I therefore will begin.

We’re trying a little something different this year. In celebration of Shakespeare’s oft-underappreciated clown princes of comedy, Bardfilm and I thought we should declare today

Whether you’re a professional fool or you just behave like one, celebrate the craft of your predecessors today by acting the part.

Now that we know that Shakespeare’s skull is no longer in his grave with the rest of his mortal coil, Bardfilm and I know that the time has come to round up the usual suspects. Without much ado, here are the people we’d call in for interrogation:

Amateur dramatic company of Stratford who borrowed it for a production of Hamlet and, because of poor reviews, decided not to return it.

Enraged Macbeth descendants who thought “a head for a head” was a pretty good policy (they’re also responsible for moving Stratford forest closer to the birthplace).

Phrenologists from the 1700s wanting to discover the “literary genius bump schematic.”

Literary critics from the future determined to paint it an inch thick to see what favor it would come to.

Prank by George W. Bush for the Skull and Bones society gone horribly awry.

Someone playing Jaques who had a really weird interpretation of the seven ages of man “sans everything” line he wanted to try.

Some well wisher who no doubt thought that Shakespeare could not be sent to his account with all his imperfections on his head if he had no head.

Somewhere, somebody obsessed with Ophelia has got his head in her lap.

The people in charge of the Richard III archeological dig getting a bit carried away.

Marketing department of Skullcandy™ thought they had a brilliant new campaign. Abandoned because of a surprising outbreak of good taste and tact.

“Shakespeare Geek took it—it’s just the sort of silly trick he’s been playing since he walked along the railroad tracks of Boston as a kid.” —Bardfilm

“Bardfilm is the one who took it. That guy has no shame when it comes to shameless self-promotion.” —Shakespeare Geek

Bearded old woman (can’t call them witches anymore, sargent, that’s not “politically correct.” And they’re not too keen on “wyrd,” either) caught wandering down by the river chanting “Fillet of a fenny snake, / Cranium of Willy Shake.”

Treasure hunters found with a copy of Richard III in which the “wedges of gold, great anchors, heaps of pearl, inestimable stones, unvalued jewels” laying in dead men’s skulls passage was underlined.

Caliban, who we expect may have battered it with a log. He’s also suspect in what happened to all the books.

Pistol, who was unable to satisfactorily explain why he was carrying a leek without a permit

Guildenstern, for completely misunderstanding a recent “throwing about of brains.”

Did anyone bother to scan his heels? Lear’s Fool suggested that we might find it down there.

Our thanks for the idea for this guest post to kj, the author of Bardfilm. Bardfilm is a blog that comments on films, plays, and other matters related to Shakespeare.