words by Gabriel Morrissey-Limb
Shakespeare is uniquely situated. His works are often hailed as some of, if not the, best use of the English language to ever exist. Writers, directors and more aspire to leave even a fraction of the impact that he did; there can never be enough praise heaped upon the playwright. And for many, that is a given. However, in the modern era, his works are adapted and reinterpreted into something near unrecognisable by theatre and film directors, in my opinion, without a clear reason. This is not unique to now, but in the 21st century, it seems as though certain individuals feel the need to put their own spin on these classic works, sometimes to their detriment.
Not long ago, I saw a production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Shakespeare’s famous play, set in (you guessed it) the summer, is a tale focusing on the love between Hermia and Lysander, the Athenian laws that prevent it, and the forest sprites’ attempt to derail the couple’s future for their own amusement. This is one of Shakespeare’s more light-hearted plays when compared to productions such as Hamlet or Macbeth. This is not to discredit the themes of forbidden love, yearning, and patriarchal control of course. There is an undeniable sense of whimsy that places it at the top of my personal list of his extensive works.
This adaptation was set in Winter, with the characters and their intentions being twisted into more sinister, malignant versions of the originals. Puck, in particular, was more akin to Heath Ledger’s portrayal of The Joker than the playful, mischievous sprite one might expect of the character. This was done to reflect the change in seasons of the production; in some respects, it worked and was an entertaining reimagining.
But was it necessary?
The parts I enjoyed the most were not the changes made, they were the bare bones of Shakespeare. His lyrical talents and ideas shone through the somewhat controversial decisions that were made. Just because something is entertaining does not make it a good idea.
The change in time period, character motivation and overall tone led to this being a much edgier version of a classic play that, at times, confused me. To put it simply: if the original A Midsummer Night’s Dream could be compared to a 1960s acid trip, this version could be compared to a 1920s opium overdose.
Consider, for example, the changes made to the transformation of Bottom into an ass. What is seen as one of the play’s comedic focal points was instead depicted as a grotesque being with a Croneberg’s The Fly-esque transformation. Puck adopted a deeper voice to announce the change, the lighting on the stage went dark aside from occasional flashes of white, and the sounds of bones snapping and flesh tearing fell upon my ears. Horrific, yes. Different, yes. But the ‘shocking’ imagery failed to acknowledge the transformation as a literal physical manifestation of Bottom’s character. That is, a bullish, overconfident ass. Another change that didn’t hit the mark was the ending which took the form of a tragedy where several characters were killed by Hermia’s father during Bottom’s performance, instead of the reconciliation and joint marriage of the original. This inclusion felt like it existed simply to emphasise the fact that this interpretation was doing things differently.
The way that the play was changed, with characters often written as vulgar, drugged up, and spiteful versions of themselves, they were near unrecognisable save for their names. There was also the case with Billie Eilish’s song Bad Guy being inserted. This made no sense to me personally, it again seemed more like it was there to differentiate the adaptation instead of having a thematic reason. It is never addressed again and, because of that, it sticks out taking you out of the beauty of Shakespearian dialogue into the fantastic, but entirely incongruous, lyricism of Eilish.
This is not to discredit the actors who did a fantastic job, nor is it to discredit the well-crafted production. It is merely an example of the illness that many modern Shakespeare productions find themselves plagued with.
I’m not arguing against re-imaginings or modernisations, particularly of Shakespeare; Where would so much of literature be without them after all? The doomed lovers trope, popularised by Romeo and Juliet, the first half of Wuthering Heights, Titanic, and countless others. Margaret Atwood’s Hag-seed is a retelling of The Tempest. Even popular films, such as the 1999 romcom 10 Things I Hate About You and She’s The Man are retellings of Shakespeare. And one cannot ignore the fantastic 1996 reimagining of Romeo and Juliet starring Leonardo Di-Caprio.
So why is it that some of these reinterpretations work and some don’t? For me, it boils down to one word. Respect.
Now what does that mean? It’s a complicated question with a complicated answer. It’s a variety of things that don’t necessarily have to appear together. It could be seen as keeping the Shakespearean language intact, or it could be keeping the plot, or the character motivations the same as the original. For me, it is the thematic elements; the skeleton of the play if you will. If the theme, or the spirit, of the play is still there, then the material is respected.
In Romeo and Juliet (1996), for example, the story is more-or-less the same, as are the character’s motivations and actions. This is despite the modernisation of the setting, a 1990s California City named Verona Beach, instead of the fifteenth-century city of Verona Italy. Romeo is adorned with a Hawaiian shirt and slacks instead of robes and britches, and every member of both Houses Montague and Capulet brandishes a gun, with extravagant fire fights replacing intricate sword duels. Yes, differences are present, but when the workings are stripped down it is Shakespeare through and through, the characters, their motivations and plot remain the same.
On the other end of the successful reimagining is 10 Things I Hate About You. The ideas, and therefore the respect, is still present here, whilst being different enough to stand on its own. The plot, whilst modernised, is the same, as are the characters. Kat is of course Katherine, the titular ‘Shrew’, Patrick Verona (subtle) is Petruchio, and the rest of the cast are the same as the play upon examination. Although it may be less misogynistic than the original, with Kat actually choosing to be with Patrick rather than submitting to his will through hers being broken among other things, that does not detract from the core themes of the story. Despite this, if you weren’t aware that 10 Things I Hate About You is a retelling of Shakespeare, you wouldn’t know. That is the key to its success.
When compared to the production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream, it seems to be caught in the middle of both of these concepts, being too similar and too different. This is not exclusive to this production, and is the case with many modern interpretations of Shakespeare. It is simply being used as a comparison point.
It is important to note, however, that these films have the advantage of being just that: films. Allowing for more cohesion and time to implement changes than a play, with timelines measured in years rather than months. When a theatre adaptation attempts to modernise Shakespeare, it must do so deliberately, signalling to the audience that this show will be a different form of Shakespeare than what they may be used to. A film does not have to do this, it can simply give itself a different title if need be. Theatre being contained in one space must ensure that every detail works within the small spatial constraints of the stage.
There is also the, admittedly fair, argument that Shakespeare’s works are dated. The language used is notoriously difficult to understand if one doesn’t have a strong grasp of Early Modern English. Not to mention, the plays have been performed the same way countless times, by countless performers over the centuries. Injecting a new style, location, or thematic elements into an otherwise very familiar story can be refreshing for many, reigniting interest and making it more accessible for contemporary audiences — something that theatre and other arts need.
When it comes down to it, I will begrudgingly say that I do favour the modernisation of Shakespeare; to be loved is to be changed after all. However, these changes must be done correctly. If things are changed too much we end up with a strange Ship of Theseus situation, in which the name remains but nothing else of substance does. A common idea is that Shakespeare lives through his words,.I argue that he also does so through his ideas. Changing these concepts so much that they no longer harbour Shakespeare’s essence is to kill them.