Cymbeline Act 1.1.106-24

And now a short break with our two young lovers; after all, every fairy tale needs two young lovers who must face all kinds of difficulties, and here they contemplate their separation. Of course, this should remind us of Shakespeare’s earlier works. Indeed, Cymbeline is full of self-reference, almost as if Shakespeare is playing a game of “can you spot the allusion?” In so ding, Shakespeare is turning his work into a meta-theatrical event, thereby raising the audience’s awareness that they are indeed watching a play, part of whose function is to evoke other plays. In short, this play becomes a sort of commentary on the art of play writing, and on the nature of the theatre itself. Here in thinking of separation Shakespeare evokes Romeo and Juliet in Imogen’s short phrase “Such parting were too petty,” reminding us of Juliet’s “Parting is such sweet sorrow” (2.1.185). (If you don’t find this particularly convincing, subsequent similar allusions to other plays might well do in retrospect). On top of that, Shakespeare now throws in the old theatrical trick of the lovers exchanging tokens–Imogen gives Posthumus a ring, he gives her a bracelet (described somewhat paradoxically as a “manacle of love,” and interestingly Imogen has enjoined him to wear the ring “till you woo another wife / When Imogen is dead”). The ever-alert viewer now knows that both ring and bracelet will become important plot-resolving elements and need to be followed attentively. As if to underline the point, the tokens are no sooner exchanged and Imogen has said “O the gods! / When shall we see again!” than ENTER CYMBELINE AND LORDS!! Every such plot story needs a heavy-handed, tyrannical king to intervene–and voila!!

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© 2008

Hamlet Act 1.1.1-18

It’s worth considering the circumstances under which Hamlet would have been performed. The full text as we have it might very well have not been performed. Even given the Elizabethan emphasis on the spoken (and less on the visual) with probably a higher rate of words delivered, the complete play would have still been very long (nowadays a complete version would take three-and-a-half to four hours). So probably (though not absolutely certainly) the text would have been modified for any given performance (as is again the case with many modern productions). Remember too that the initial performances would also have been given outdoors, about which the opening of the play becomes quite revealing. The scene is the battlements of Elsinore and it’s nighttime; however, the audience (and cast) are fully aware that they are seeing the performance in broad daylight. To reinforce the notion of darkness, Bernardo’s and Francisco’s lines tell us that they can’t see each other–therefore, it must be dark!! This idea is swiftly reinforced by Francisco demanding that Bernardo must “unfold yourself” and by Bernardo telling us the clock has just struck twelve. And, of course, we the audience believe all this, or rather enter into the theatrical conspiracy that this is so. Another interesting point about the opening exchange is the fact that the military roles are reversed. Bernardo is given “Who’s there?” but Francisco’s retort–“Nay, answer me”–makes it clear that he is the one who is on guard duty and thus entitled to challenge Bernardo. Are we to make much of this? In the theatre it might well slip by an audience that is still settling down. However, in retrospect it is easy to see that this situation is a microcosm of at least one aspect of the play as a whole–that the normal order of things has been reversed or inverted, a sign of discord and disorder (never a good thing in the English Elizabethan mind).  Obviously the “darkness” and even the “bitter cold”serve to emphasize this aspect. This sub-scene ends with the arrival of Horatio and Marcellus, and, since Bernardo has relieved Francisco, Francisco’s exit. Perhaps it is also worth noting the short, conversational speeches all these characters employ–they have directness and serve to establish quickly the relationships–“friends to this ground.”

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© 2008

Cymbeline Act 1.1.70-105

These lines actually provides three very short sub-scenes and, like the opening, draw attention to their creaky dramatic structure–so much so that there can be little doubt that all is quite deliberate. As the 2 Gents exit, the Queen enters with Posthumus and Imogen and quickly establishes the fairy tale relationship between herself and Imogen. Imogen is her stepdaughter, and we know how stepdaughters (or any stepchild for that matter) is treated with in fairy tales. Moreover, the fact that the Queen (note she is nameless and thus generic) asserts that Imogen will not find her “evil-eyed unto you” immediately suggests that that is indeed her intention. The Queen is the stereotypical evil/wicked queen (or similar figure). Although she also says she has good intentions towards Posthumus (Imogen’s husband), we already sense the falsity, especially because both of them have incurred regal wrath for marrying–Imogen is a “prisoner,” Posthimus is about to leave the kingdom.

The creaky dramaturgy points itself out when the Queen declares “I’ll fetch a turn about the garden” (81), ostensibly out of sympathy for the young lovers. Practically, the purpose for getting her off-stage is so that Imogen can quickly fill in their own perspective and provide information. The first bit of information comes from Imogen who confirms our suspicions about the motives of the evil Queen: “Dissembling courtesy! How fie this tyrant / Can tickle where she wounds.” The remainder of their exchange,as one might expect involves them pledging their love for one another, etc., as well as Postumus letting us know he is off to Rome but that he will write letters. PLOT ALERT–geography and letters are to play a MAJOR role in the play, and we’d better pay close attention!!

The sub-scene ends with a quick interjection from the Queen (just popping in from her turn about the garden) to tell them to hurry up. Again, this “device” is blatant and obvious–almost as though Shakespeare is telling us so.

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© 2008

Cymbeline Act 1.1.1-69

Shakespeare begins the play with one of his formulaic scenes, namely an informational scene between two minor characters. Although they are “minor” they appear to know everything that has transpired prior to the opening of the play (however, since the audience is just settling in, it is not likely to raise such questions about how the two gents know everything). This formula is indeed a short cut to getting the play going; otherwise, Shakespeare would have to stage one or more scenes that would incorporate or illustrate this necessary information (and the play turns out to be a fairly long one). I think there’s no doubt, to state the obvious, that Shakespeare knows what he is doing; indeed, I think he is displaying his dramaturgy quite blatantly–saying, almost, this is a way a play can begin. The clue for thinking that lies in the rather convoluted details of the 1st Gent’s speech, lines 4-10. His speech is larded with “his,” “he,” “her” etc, but the specifics are lacking (or at least are very vague), and I doubt many people could explain exactly the relationships and events after hearing the speech just once. However, this is the format that in which many tales begin, and Cymbeline is a tale (more on that anon). Notice, too, that the 2nd Gent amounts to little more than a stooge or feed, asking the 1st Gent short questions that elicit further information, and allow the tale to unfold. His questions also serve to break up the 1st Gent’s speech which would otherwise turn out to be 69 line monologue. As for the substance of the information, that too is formulaic–it is a tale of romance in royal circles that is disapproved of, combined with the tale of a thwarted lover, combined with a tale of a royally-adopted son, combined with a tale of two babies stolen shortly after their birth. (I invite you to put the appropriate names to all these–but remembering that in the theatre many of the specifics are omitted, or fly by at break-neck speed. However, in the theatre, it doesn’t matter because carefully resolving the mysteries is part of Shakespeare’s intent, as it is the task of many dramatists to answer the expectations their plays raise as they proceed). This sub-scene closes with two speeches that give yet another clue as to Shakespeare’s purpose:

2nd Gent: That a king’s children should be so conveyed,
So slackly guarded, and the search so slow
That could not trace them!
1st Gent:                Howsoe’er ttis strange,
Or that the negligence may well be laughed at,
Yet is it true, sir.

What Shakespeare does here is to deliberately draw attention to the convenient coincidence of the events, to heighten our awareness that the events are contrived all the while asserting that they are “true.” Drama, like all fictive forms, is a contrivance that we allow ourselves to be lulled into thinking it is “true,” yet simultaneously we know it is a theatrical creation. Only young children actually believe that what they see in the theatre is really happening and will, for instance, call out a warning if they see a “bad guy” trying to harm a “good guy.” Adullts (mostly) don’t; we enter into the game, knowing that it is a game–and yet, of course, there is an elemental “truth” in what we see.

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© 2008

David Tennant as Hamlet (reviews)

David Tennant steps out of the Tardis and away from Dr Who as he generally wows the critics as Hamlet. See the reviews in the leading London newspapers:

The Independent

The Times

Daily Telegraph

The Guardian

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