The Real Reason Shakespeare is Difficult

Spoiler alert: it isn't the language.

Now, that may be just my personal bias - English is kinda my thing. But as far as I can tell, the language is not the real challenge about Shakespeare.

Don't get me wrong, the language can, at times, be challenging. Sure, all the "forsooth"s and "thou"s and "wherefore"s and so on could take some getting used to. And I've seen a lot of people have trouble with "e'er" translating to "ever". But the thing is, the language is something you just get used to after a while. Some quicker than others, like anything else, but the more practice you have with it, the more you understand. I've practiced with Shakespeare quite a bit (I used to read it to myself in my spare time - aloud, as that's how Shakespeare is meant to be read), so I think it's fair to say that when it comes to comprehension, I'm pretty alright.

But that does not, by any standard, mean that I could ever be a Shakespearean actor. And that's because the real challenge begins after the words make sense.

Because the thing about Shakespeare is that, while the words have a pretty clear meaning at face value, the whole intent of a scene can change the moment it's read aloud. By tone of voice, by what the actor does (and what he doesn't do - but I'll get to that later). And it's come to my attention that while Shakespeare can be difficult by virtue of the language, it's actually much freer than most things made today, because in nothing else I've seen can characters be so drastically reshaped according to different interpretations by actors and directors.

But freedom like that is scary, because it's a lot of pressure. You have to choose a direction where so many other people have probably read it in so many other ways.

And that's where the challenge is.

I can think of several examples where interpretation really counted and made a difference, but I'll only give a few here so you get the idea. One was brought up by an actor who I admire, James Marsters, at a panel. He was talking about Macbeth, and how people tend to (by his reading) misinterpret the two main characters - Macbeth, and Lady Macbeth. I'm not going to get into what he said about Lady Macbeth because it's irrelevant here, and because I think the ambiguities of Lady Macbeth is worth an analysis all on its own. But about Macbeth, he was very certain of some things, and that's what matters here, in terms of interpretation.

If you're familiar with the story of Macbeth, you probably know the scene where, after killing his friend Banquo, the Macbeths host a dinner party. At this party, the ghost of Banquo appears to Macbeth. Macbeth panics and Lady Macbeth quickly ushers everyone out of there before they can begin questioning his sanity.

The difference in interpretation lies in what the panicking entails. I've seen a few versions where Macbeth cowers and hides, and a few where he's petrified. What Marsters points out at his panel, is that Macbeth is a warrior. And because he's a warrior, if it comes to fight, flight or freeze, Macbeth would always pick fight.

So imagine this passage with those three very different interpretations in mind.

MACBETH
Avaunt! and quite my sight! let the earth hide thee!
Thy bones are marrowless, thy blood is cold;
Thou hast no speculation in those eyes
Which thou dost glare with!

Each version lends a very different tone to the scene, doesn't it? Imagine Macbeth cowering away from the ghost, party guests wondering what on earth he's so afraid of; imagine Macbeth unable to move for fear, hissing these words, the guests baffled; imagine Macbeth roaring these words, challenging the ghost, and now the guests are the ones scared. It changes things, doesn't it?

One of the best examples of such difference in interpretation is something I found in The Taming of the Shrew.

Now, I love The Taming of the Shrew, it's one of my favourites, but there are parts of it that just don't translate all that well through the centuries. What comes to mind is Kate's monologue at the end regarding the importance of a woman's obedience to her husband, and also Petruchio's behaviour directly following their marriage can be a bit appalling if it's played completely straight. One of the most potentially appalling monologues from Petruchio goes like this:

PETRUCHIO
They shall go forward, Kate, at thy command.
Obey the bride, you that attend on her;
Go to the feast, revel and domineer, 
Carouse full measure to her maidenhead,
Be mad and merry, or go hang yourselves;
But for my bonny Kate, she must go with me.
Nay, look not big, nor stamp, nor stare, nor fret;
I will be master of what is mine own:
She is my goods, my chattels; she is my house, 
My household stuff, my field, my barn, 
My horse, my ox, my ass, my any thing;
And here she stands, touch her whoever dare;
I'll bring mine action on the proudest he
That stops my way in Padua. Grumio, 
Draw forth thy weapon, we are beset with thieves;
Rescue thy mistress, if thou be a man.
Fear not, sweet wench, they shall not touch thee, Kate;
I'll buckler thee against a million.

Now, the line "I will be master of what is mine own", as well as the comparing of Kate to various possessions can be read pretty darkly and make a lot of people uncomfortable if it's played like that - and I have seen Petruchio played in that way, with that darkness. 

But I've also seen it played very differently. Flirty. Playful. And it changes everything about that scene. 

See, what's simultaneously the most obvious and most challenging thing about Shakespearean acting is it's about what you do, less about what you say. You can say the same thing with totally different intents behind the words. But how you present it, what you do as you say it, that's what the challenge is. That's what the acting is. The tone you say it in, the actions you put with it - that's where things change, where things get interesting, and where the audience will really understand you. 

Now, most recently, I watched a version of The Tempest. And I was especially struck by their portrayals of Ariel and Prospero. (In all fairness, this could have been because Ariel happened to be played by an actor who I admire very much, and naturally catches my attention, but my point remains). Mostly, I was struck by the contrast and parallels they manage to draw between Prospero and Ariel. These things aren't immediately obvious when reading the text, but this version of the play puts quite a bit of emphasis on it, and it was absolutely fascinating. 

And it was fascinating because, while it had been obvious to me previously that Shakespearean acting has a lot to do with the things you do, what this version made me realize was that it could sometimes be just as much about what you don't do. 

In this version, Prospero was... well, he was all over the place. He'd strut all around the stage, shouting some things, muttering others, gesturing to the sky. And it wasn't bad, because in Shakespeare things mostly are that big (especially since this was a stage version), and this Prospero was still played with amazing depth. 

And while Prospero did this, Ariel would stand still, following Prospero with his eyes. When he had a monologue, he would almost never use his hands to express what he was saying, only his face and tone. His voice was always level. And at first I mistook this for a too-subtle take on stage acting, until I realized that it could only be meant to contrast the explosive energy of Prospero. 

It also served as a welcome reminder that Ariel is not like the other fairies of Shakespeare. Ariel is nothing like Puck, of A Midsummer's Night's Dream. Puck is a child, a trickster. Ariel is a servant. "Mischievous" is probably what most people would call Puck (though I can't think of any specific quote) - the word Ariel gets time and time again is "delicate". More than once Prospero calls him "my delicate Ariel". And what's more delicate and graceful than stillness and calm in the midst of the tempestuous chaos of Prospero's schemes? (Please excuse the pun it was unintentional but perfect). 

My favourite example of this contrast comes from how they play this sample. The script looks like this:

ARIEL

[...]
Him that you term'd, sir, 'The good old lord Gonzalo;'
His tears run down his beard, like winter's drops
From eaves of reeds. Your charm so strongly works 'em
That if you now beheld them, your affections
Would become tender.

PROSPERO
Dost thou think so, spirit?

ARIEL
Mine would, sir, were I human.

PROSPERO
And mine shall. 

But if one were to transcribe it with tone from how they played it, it would read more like this:

Ariel: Him that you term'd, sir. 'The good old lord Gonzalo.' His tears run down his beard like winter's drops, from eaves of reeds. Your charm so strongly works 'em that if you now beheld them, your affections would become... tender. 

Prospero: DOST THOU THINK SO, SPIRIT?

Ariel: Mine would, sir. Were I human. 

Prospero: (after a long pause). And.... mine.... shall. 

You can see how they contrast each other very well. And you can also see that, alongside such huge performances as Prospero's, the biggest choice Ariel could make for his own characterization would be to not be big at all. 

I just thought that was interesting. I'd never thought of negative space as an acting concept, but that's essentially what Ariel was creating in this portrayal. Which is, in its own counter-intuitive way, a pretty radical choice.

So, let's face it. Shakespeare is challenging all the way around. Meanings get buried underneath piles of outdated words, and sometimes you get stage directions like "Exit, pursued by a bear" when there wasn't even a bear in the scene to begin with (see: A Winter's Tale). But the most challenging thing about Shakespeare has to be that the way it's written leaves everything entirely open to interpretation. The most challenging thing about Shakespeare is that actors and directors have to make their own choices about who the characters really are, and why they're really doing what they do, and these choices can vary drastically depending on what you watch.

Having that much freedom can be kind of daunting, and it's one of the most difficult things about Shakespeare, for sure. But I firmly believe that it's also part of what makes it so enjoyable. Because it pretty much guarantees that no matter how many times you see the same play, chances are, you won't really be seeing the same play at all. 

And, as I'm sure Shakespeare would say: That's pretty cool.