5
When in Doubt,
It’s from Shakespeare . . .
Q
UICK QUIZ
: What do John Cleese, Cole Porter, Moonlighting, and Death Valley Days have in
common? No, they’re not part of some Communist plot. All were involved with some version of The
Taming of the Shrew, by that former glover’s apprentice from Stratford-upon-Avon, William
Shakespeare. Cleese played Petruchio in the BBC production of the complete Shakespeare plays in
the 1970s. Porter wrote the score for Kiss Me, Kate, the modern musical-comedy version on
Broadway and on film. The Moonlighting episode called “Atomic Shakespeare” was one of the
funniest and most inventive on a show that was consistently funny and inventive. It was comparatively
faithful to the spirit of the original while capturing the essence of the show’s regular characters. The
truly odd duck here is Death Valley Days, which was an anthology show from the 1950s and 1960s
sometimes hosted by a future president, Ronald Reagan, and sponsored by Twenty Mule Team Borax.
Their retelling was set in the Old West and completely free of Elizabethan English. For a lot of us,
that particular show was either our first encounter with the Bard or our first intimation that he could
actually be fun, since in public school, you may recall, they only teach his tragedies. These examples
represent only the tip of the iceberg for the perennially abused Shrew: its plot seems to be
permanently available to be moved in time and space, adapted, altered, updated, set to music,
reimagined in myriad ways.
If you look at any literary period between the eighteenth and twenty-first centuries, you’ll be
amazed by the dominance of the Bard. He’s everywhere, in every literary form you can think of. And
he’s never the same: every age and every writer reinvents its own Shakespeare. All this from a man
who we’re still not sure actually wrote the plays that bear his name.
Try this. In 1982 Paul Mazursky directed an interesting modern version of The Tempest . It had an
Ariel figure (Susan Sarandon), a comic but monstrous Caliban (Raul Julia), and a Prospero (famed
director John Cassavetes), an island, and magic of a sort. The film’s title? Tempest. Woody Allen
reworked A Midsummer Night’s Dream as his film A Midsummer Night’s Sex Comedy . Natch. The
BBC series Masterpiece Theatre has recast Othello as a contemporary story of black police
commissioner John Othello, his lovely white wife Dessie, and his friend Ben Jago, deeply resentful at
being passed over for promotion. The action will surprise no one familiar with the original. Add that
production to a nineteenth-century opera of some note based on the play. West Side Story famously
reworks Romeo and Juliet, which resurfaces again in the 1990s, in a movie featuring contemporary
teen culture and automatic pistols. And that’s a century or so after Tchaikovsky’s ballet based on the
same play. Hamlet comes out as a new film every couple of years, it seems. Tom Stoppard considers
the role and fate of minor characters from Hamlet in his play Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are
Dead. And that bastion of high culture, Gilligan’s Island, had an episode where Phil Silvers, famous
as TV’s Sergeant Bilko and therefore adding to the highbrow content, was putting together a musical
Hamlet, the highlight of which was Polonius’s “Neither a borrower nor a lender be” speech set to the
tune of “Habanera” from Bizet’s Carmen. Now that’s art.
Nor is the Shakespeare adaptation phenomenon restricted to the stage and screen. Jane Smiley
rethinks King Lear in her novel A Thousand Acres (1991). Different time, different place, same
meditation upon greed, gratitude, miscalculation, and love. Titles? William Faulkner liked The Sound
and the Fury. Aldous Huxley decided on Brave New World . Agatha Christie chose By the Pricking
of My Thumbs, which statement Ray Bradbury completed with Something Wicked This Way Comes .
The all-time champion for Shakespeare references, though, must be Angela Carter’s final novel, Wise
Children. The children of the title are twins, illegitimate daughters of the most famous Shakespearean
actor of his age, who is the son of the most famous Shakespearean of his age. While the twins, Dora
and Nora Chance, are song-and-dance artists—as opposed to practitioners of “legitimate” theater—
the story Dora tells is full to overflowing with Shakespearean passions and situations. Her
grandfather kills his unfaithful wife and himself in a manner strongly reminiscent of Othello. As we
saw in the previous chapter, a woman seems to drown like Ophelia, only to turn up in a hugely
surprising way very late in the book like Hero in Much Ado About Nothing. The novel is full of
astonishing disappearances and reappearances, characters in disguise, women dressed as men, and
the two most spiteful daughters since Regan and Goneril brought ruin to Lear and his kingdom. Carter
envisions a film production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream more disastrously hilarious than
anything the “rude mechanicals” of the original could conceive of, the results recalling the real-life
film version from the 1930s.
Those are just a few of the uses to which Shakespeare’s plots and situations get put, but if that’s all
he amounted to, he’d only be a little different from any other immortal writer.
But that’s not all.
You know what’s great about reading old Will? You keep stumbling across lines you’ve been
hearing and reading all your life. Try these:
To thine own self be true
All the world’s a stage, / And all the men and women merely players
What’s in a name? That which we call a rose / By any other name would smell as sweet
What a rogue and peasant slave am I
Good night, sweet prince, / And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest!
Get thee to a nunnery
Who steals my purse steals trash
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