Extreme Shakespeare? What’s That?

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When I caught this headline about someone who “loves the work he does, even the extreme Shakespeare stuff,” it was a definite, “Ok, bookmark that and come back to it later.” What exactly is extreme Shakespeare? Titus Andronicus?

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.

The original "extreme Shakespeare", Titus Andronicus
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?

And am I the only one that gets a kick out of that last line? “That’s the way Shakespeare did it, that’s why it’s called extreme.” What? Doing the play the way it was originally done is extreme now? Reminds me of an old The Onion classic, about the unconventional director who set Shakespeare in the time and place Shakespeare intended. EXTREME!!!

In Defense of Reading Shakespeare

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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.”

My Own Personal Shakespeare: Macbeth Edition. Bring back reading Shakespeare!
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.

Ink & Roses Chapter 2 – The Mill-Wheel’s Tremble

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(Stratford-upon-Avon, 25 April 1592)

The river runs high after the rains, and the whole house trembles with the mill-wheel’s turning. I feel the shake in my bones the way other women feel church bells. It is the season when everything grows—even the spaces between us.

Ink & Roses A Tudor Tragedy

I sit at the little oak table that once belonged to my father, light thin as whey through the leaded glass, and count coins into piles: one for the baker, one for the butcher, one for the schoolmaster who says Hamnet is quick but too fond of birds’ nests. The fourth pile—six pennies and a clipped angel—bears no mark. I turn the angel over twice, then slip it into the purse beneath the loose board. It is the first coin to cross the threshold without another mouth already calling for it.

Upstairs Susanna recites her letters to the twins, who answer in giggles and thuds. Their voices chase each other like swallows under the eaves. I think: Will would smile at that. Then I think: he is not here to smile.

I was twenty-six when he was sixteen, and I liked the way he read verses to the river reeds as though they were an audience. I liked the way he looked startled when I laughed—startled, then determined, as if laughter were a riddle he could solve by kissing it. When the harvest failed and my father’s roof leaked, Will’s voice was the only warm thing in the county. I let him stay late; I let him stay later. When the consequence announced itself in the skipping of a month’s courses, he married me with a ring of barley straw he twisted while I wept. He wore it until the priest spoke, then tucked it into the prayer book he still carries. I have never asked if it is still there.

Some nights I count the years between us the way others count rosary beads—ten beads, ten years—and wonder whether love is a thread strong enough to stretch so far. Other nights I listen to the mill wheel and think: perhaps love is simply the sound of one person working while another is away.

He sends money when he can. He writes the children a nonsense rhyme for every shilling. He writes me one line only—“I keep the barley straw.” I do not know if that is love, but it is something I can hold in my palm like a warm egg. I do not know if it will hatch or spoil. I only know I am tired of wondering.

Tonight I will seal this letter with plain wax and no perfume. I will tell him the twins have grown two fingers taller, that the cherry tree blossomed early, that the miller’s dog still barks at the moon on his behalf. I will not ask when he is coming home. I will not ask if there is another woman, or another man, or simply another stage that keeps him later than I ever did. I will only ask that he remember the river is still running high, and that the wheel turns whether he listens or not.

—Anne Hathaway

—–

Next Time: Kit owes three pounds by Pentecost, and the dice are turning ugly.

<< Chapter 1


Comment below with the one word you’d send to Anne, or share with a friend who’d guard a secret on barley straw.

Did The Two Princes Live?

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What really happened to the two princes in the Tower? It’s one of history’s most haunting mysteries—two royal brothers vanish, a crown is taken, and centuries of speculation follow. Now, the researcher who found Richard III’s bones under a car park is back, and she thinks she has the answer.

Richard III has a fairly high body count, however you count it.
He’s directly responsible for at least ten deaths—give or take, depending on how you tally things like Henry VI, whose murder happens in the previous play. But we all know Shakespeare wasn’t aiming for strict historical accuracy. He was writing to entertain and to please a Tudor monarch. Truth got a few edits along the way.

One of the coldest acts—on stage and in history—is the disappearance of the two princes: Edward V and Richard, Duke of York. In the play, Richard has them smothered in the Tower. In real life? They just… vanished.

Or did they? 🎵 dun dun DUNNNNNN!

What Happened to the Two Princes in the Tower?

Enter Philippa Langley—yes, the same researcher who found Richard III’s remains under a car park in 2012. She’s been on this case for years, and she’s not just speculating; she’s been digging (literally and figuratively) through archives, and she thinks she’s found something significant.

You may have heard of Lambert Simnel and Perkin Warbeck, two men who claimed to be the missing princes after the death of Richard III. Both were dismissed as imposters. Case closed, right?

Not so fast, says Langley.

She and her research team have uncovered documents suggesting those boys may have been exactly who they claimed to be. One example? Receipts from 1487 supporting a rebellion by “Edward IV’s son”—the same year Simnel led his uprising and was crowned in Dublin. Langley has uncovered new references to the boy being “called” or believed to be “a son of King Edward.” She thinks that points to Simnel being Edward V himself.

So, what do the historians think? Langley has earned credibility with the discovery of Richard’s remains. This isn’t just a publicity stunt—it’s the continuation of a long, serious investigation. And it definitely has me curious.

Of course, even with new evidence, the question of what happened to the two princes is thorny. Traditional accounts lean heavily on Richard III’s guilt, but most of those sources were written under the Tudors—who had every reason to paint Richard as a villain. Thomas More’s account, for instance, is vivid and damning, but it was written decades later, under Henry VIII.

That’s why Langley’s work is so interesting. She’s not just rehashing old chronicles; she’s digging into primary sources that have been overlooked or misfiled, tracing networks of payments, correspondence, and political maneuverings that hint at something far more complex. What if Edward V didn’t die in the Tower at all? What if his identity was suppressed and replaced with the “pretender” label for the sake of stability?

Langley’s argument, if it holds up, would radically shift our understanding of that period. It suggests that the official story—the one we’ve accepted for centuries—might have been more propaganda than truth. It wouldn’t be the first time history was written by the winners, especially in a shaky new dynasty like the Tudors.

Naturally, not everyone is convinced. Many historians remain skeptical, arguing that the lack of hard evidence (especially forensic) keeps this in the realm of interesting theory. But Langley’s success with the Richard III dig gives her a level of credibility that’s hard to ignore.

Whether you buy the theory or not, it’s a fascinating reminder of how much we still don’t know about the past—and how much can still come to light, even centuries later.

What do you think?

Dame Judi Dench Appreciation Post

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Dame Judi Dench

It’s no surprise that we’re big fans of Dame Judi Dench here at Shakespeare Geek. I feel the same way about Sir Ian McKellen. When legends walk among us we must pay attention, because they do not do so forever. Dame Judi is 90 years old now and almost completely blind, so we’ll not be getting any more stage work from her. But when she speaks, we should listen, because one day that beautiful voice will be a memory. (Unless, I suppose, you waited on the waiting list for her audiobook?)

Maybe it’s the universe, maybe it’s the algorithm. But Dame Judi’s appearing frequently on my radar these days, and if all I can do is help amplify that signal, then so let it be done. She’s not showing signs of ever stopping.

  • Far Out Magazine gives us the role Dench would never play. I’m not click bait here, I’ll just tell you — Nurse (from Romeo and Juliet). Well…yeah? Who in god’s name is casting Dame Judi Dench as Nurse? I’d pay to watch her recite the entire play as a one-woman show (very much like another Shakespeare legend, Sir Patrick Stewart).
  • Readers in the UK might be able to tell me what the “ghost woods” are? Apparently Judi’s leading a petition to “bring them back.” Where’d they go? The petition got over 100,000 signatures in just three weeks. Go sign it!
  • She’s also using her star power to bring attention to early dementia diagnosis, teaming up with Alzheimer’s Research UK. “A diagnosis may not fix everything, but it gives people understanding, clarity, and some control at a time when everything feels uncertain. It allows families to make the most of the moments they have left. That’s why I’ve signed Alzheimer’s Research UK’s petition – and why I’m asking the public to do the same.”

Lastly, a story that I’m glad I missed. When I first started this blog oh so many years ago, I used to tell a Howard Stern story. This was back when he was on “terrestrial” radio, I haven’t actually heard him in years. But for whatever reason, I’ve long since forgotten, there was a Shakespeare reference that I heard on his show in the way in to work. And I thought, “I have no one to talk about that with. Nobody at work cares that Howard Stern just referenced Shakespeare.” It was moments like that which led directly to the blog being born. (Look at that, I found the post!)

Well last month, news-anchor Robin Quivers issued an apology to Dami Judi for accidentally broadcasting that she had died. I’m glad I missed this, because it would have infuriated me. The whole clip is there in the story, and it’s not a case of “the news person was just reading an incorrect story.” Quivers takes it upon herself to say “you’ll never meet her, because she’s dead.” The topper is when she knows it’s true because, “I’m a huge fan of hers.” No, you’re clearly not. We here at Shakespeare Geek are true fans of Dame Judi Dench.

What strikes me most about Dame Judi’s enduring presence is how she continues to use her platform for meaningful causes even as her performing career winds down. The dementia awareness campaign particularly resonates – here’s someone who built her career on memory, on the precise delivery of countless lines, now advocating for those facing the loss of that very faculty. There’s something both heartbreaking and inspiring about that commitment.

And perhaps that’s what separates true legends from mere celebrities. Dame Judi isn’t content to simply rest on her considerable laurels or retreat from public life. At 90, nearly blind, she’s still fighting for causes that matter – whether it’s preserving natural spaces or advancing medical research. She understands that her voice carries weight, and she’s determined to use it while she still can. That’s the mark of someone who truly grasps the responsibility that comes with being beloved by millions.