Monday, February 8, 2010


I took my daughters to the Denver Art Museum to see an exhibit entitled "Embrace!" The museum gave 17 artists free reign of the building, letting them choose what they installed and where. Some brought in paintings or sculpture, but others transformed entire rooms into works of art so that visitors walk into the art, becoming a part of it. My favorite was a room in which an artist made a landscape of words. He asked refugees for one word that describes something they miss about home, something that surprised them about the US, etc. He then took those words - in all different languages - and made pillows out of them that visitors can pick up and move, throw, have a pillow fight with. Words hang from the ceiling as clouds and hang on coat racks symbolizing trees. The colors are vibrant greens, reds, and blues. When I walked into the room I felt connected to the piece as I thought about the words and what they mean literally, but also what they mean to the people who were involved in the project. Some of the words I noted: school, flower, brilliant, love, compassion. And because one form of art informs others, I came up with a new exercise to try with my students. Learning how to communicate verbally and physically is such an important aspect of acting Shakespeare. So every morning I will ask them a new question that they have to answer in one word. What does Shakespeare mean to you? What is theatre about? Sum up your character in one word, etc. They will write their word on nametags and wear them for the day, springboarding us into discussion, physical embodiments of the words, and other improv games and activites. I would love to do something similar to the art museum exhibit as well and have words hanging on the curtains in the theatre as a visual connection to language.

On another note, something interesting happened last night while I was reading stories to Alyssa. She had done something really funny that sent me into a fit of laughter. I was laughing so hard that tears were streaming down my face. But then I couldn't tell if I was laughing or crying, the sensations of each emotion became so intertwined. I'd been a little sad all day, and somehow the sadness I'd been feeling came out in this strange, hysterical way. It got me thinking about comedy and tragedy and how - though they are opposites - the physical embodiment of the emotions is similar in the way we inhale and exhale so that laughter can turn to weeping and weeping can just as easily turn to laughter. Comedy and tragedy cannot exist one without the other. Shakespeare must have had these two constantly vieing for his attention and playing with his subconscious. Which might explain how both "Othello" and "Much Ado About Nothing" came to be written. Each play contains the slander of an innocent woman, but "Othello" ends tragically for all involved, while "Much Ado" ends with all being put right again. The plays are almost like opposite sides of a coin. Flip it and it can land on either side - tragedy or comedy.

Thursday, February 4, 2010

Much Ado About Leaping to Conclusions

While watching the film version of "Much Ado About Nothing" today, it occured to me what a strange play it is. While it is true that all Shakespeare's comedies have some dark undertones and themes (young women threatened with death if they do not obey their fathers, attempted rape by island monsters, and tragic shipwrecks, to name a few), this one has very starkly contrasting comedic and tragic scenes. What is most striking is the attack on Hero at the wedding. In the first place, it is hard for me to suspend my disbelief and buy into the love-at-first-sight between Hero and Claudio. Yes, Shakespearean characters are constantly falling deeply, madly in love at first sight, but they usually have some interaction that helps us see why they fall for each other. Hero and Claudio exchange glances and decide they are meant for each other. And instead of wooing her himself, he lets Don Pedro woo in his name, so that nary a word is spoken between the two lovers before they agree to marry. This makes it hard to believe that Claudio would come undone at her alleged infidelity. There is some history between the two and we are intended to understand that they have met before, but we never witness their interaction. "Romeo and Juliet" is so gut-wrenchingly tragic in part because we witness the two teenagers fall in love. It happens right there on stage, and we fall in love right along with them. Not so with Hero and Claudio. We know so little about either character that it is hard to see what one sees in the other - especially when Claudio is such a jealous, suspicious doofus. So how can we believe that Claudio is so heartbroken and enraged when he thinks her unfaithful? Unlike Romeo and Juliet who are entirely held hostage by their parents' feud and culture of hate, Claudio and Hero have the freedom to speak to each other and the support of everyone around them. So why does Claudio not confront Hero with his suspicions instead of shaming her at the wedding? Even Othello does Desdemona the courtesy of asking her about her dealings with Cassio. The fact that he doesn't believe her pleas of innocence is topic for another day. Claudio is not someone I'd ever want to hang out with. He believes everything he sees and leaps to conclusions based on lies and deception, then completely overreacts, then fails to ask a single question in the interest of clearing things up. I plan to make glorious fun of him in my play.

Tuesday, February 2, 2010

Bad Language

I've been thinking a great deal about language lately. What makes a word "bad"? What makes a word beautiful? How is it that certain words put together sound beautiful to the ear and words that mean the same thing don't? "But soft! What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east and Juliet is the sun." Beautiful, right? "Oh look, there's Juliet. She's hot." Not nearly as beautiful, or interesting for that matter.

Let's examine for a moment our American curse words, and words that are otherwise considered "bad." I heard Lewis Black once say something to the effect of, "There is no such thing as bad language. We're adults and this is how we choose to express ourselves." I tend to agree. However, as a mother of a four year old who loves to repeat everything I say (and I've been known to cuss like a sailor) I have to teach her about appropriate language so that I'm not called in to the principal's office to discuss my daughter's potty mouth. So I've taken to calling certain words "grown-up words," which she buys into so far. Now, that being said, there are certainly words that are innapropriate to use at certain times and there are words that even I won't dain to utter - the two ugliest words in the American language to me are the dreaded N word and C word. I can't even bring myself to type them. But I like the F word. Why? Is it the words or the meaning behind the words? The F word loses it's original meaning when used in certain ways, but N and C always mean the same thing. I teach an interactive workshop on the pre-Revolutionary War era and I love to teach my students the Colonial swear word "poppycock" because it sounds dirty but they can't get in trouble for saying it. Needless to say, middle schoolers love that word. Will our curse words still be offensive 200 years from now or will they have either become obsolete or traveled into the mainstream? Who's to say?

Shakespeare invented much of the language we still use today. Some estimate between 1500 and 2500 words that we speak on a daily basis were given to us by Shakespeare. He invented some words by putting two words together. In his day, it was the "bed chamber" until he turned it into the "bedroom." Things were "stained with blood" until Shakespeare made them "bloodstained." Other words he completely made up - dwindle, puke, frugal, generous, amd compromise, to name a few. People often talk about how "difficult" Shakespeare's language is and I often hear that students can't understand it. While I agree that it is difficult to understand at first, I also believe that it is a matter of training one's ear to it. I don't understand every word written or spoken while reading a play or watching a production, but a good actor can convey meaning, as long as he or she understands what she is saying. Many a theatre artist has proclaimed that the trick to acting Shakespeare is truly understanding each word, each phrase, each line. If the actor understands it, so too will the audience. This shall be my guiding principle as I experiment this year with giving more of the original language to my actors.