The Complete Shakespeare: A Midsummer Night's Dream

A Midsummer Night’s Dream

Summary:
On the eve of the wedding of Theseus and Hippolyta, two Athenian youths passionately in love - Hermia and Lysander - agree to run off because Hermia’s father has forbidden their marriage and promised Hermia to another, Demetrius. Hermia’s best friend, Helena, who has unrequited feelings for Demetrius, tells him of their plan to elope, and they follow the two into the woods as night falls. At the same time, a group of Athenian tradesmen led by Bottom the weaver also head into the woods to rehearse their play. Unbeknownst to all, these woods are home to a court of fairies, including King Oberon and Queen Titania, who are currently in a lovers' quarrel. Hilarity ensues involving a love potion and an asses head over the course of the night, but in the end all our couples are happily reunited and we finish with three weddings and a hilarious if poorly acted play-within-a-play.


What It’s About:
Love, like a dream, is senseless and yet true.

Searching for a theme in A Midsummer Night’s Dream is a bit of a challenge given that the play feels as ephemeral as its title suggests. While there is certainly a lot of plot - three separate storylines, each full to the brim with characters - the action itself feels oddly insignificant. It’s also easily resolved, with Oberon swooping in at the end of the 4th act and fixing everything. None of the play’s primary story arcs carry their conflicts into the final act save the tradesmen’s play-within-a-play, which mostly serves as comedic runner. And yet, this makes an odd sort of sense - love, at least within the world of Midsummer, is also an ephemeral thing, changeable and subject to manipulation. Lysander, Demetrius, and Titania all have their affections manipulated throughout the play by the device of the love potion, which makes them fall helplessly for the first thing they see upon waking. Lysander and Demetrius both forget all affection for Hermia - previously the center of their love triangle - and instead dote on the once-scorned Helena. Titania, for her part, is tricked into loving the tradesman Bottom, who is transfigured in a merry prank by Puck to have the head of a donkey. Even before this fantastical device is introduced, Demetrius’s love seems to be changeable - he was previously sworn to Helena, but broke things off when a better offer came along. All the vows made, the oaths sworn, the honest declarations of affection seem to be founded on nothing but artifice and flights of fancy.

And yet, we are reminded at the end of the play that dreams have power - that they show us true things - despite this ephemeral nature. The four lovers awake the next morning after Oberon has set everything right convinced they have simply dreamed the last night’s events - and that those dreams have led them to the happy ending they now enjoy. Moreover, the play produced by the tradesmen and Puck’s final monologue remind us that plays themselves are but dreams, full of artifice and falsehoods built to convey some deeper truth, some meaning that exists beyond mere facts.

The tradesman’s choice of play is also apt - they perform Pyramus & Thisbe, a tale of two tragic lovers separated by their warring families that ends with both killing themselves, believing the other to be dead because of a misunderstanding. If that sounds familiar, it’s because Pyramus & Thisbe served as Shakespeare’s source material for Romeo & Juliet. Midsummer echoes R+J in many ways, but most significantly the tradesmen’s performance of a tragedy that befell star-crossed lovers serves as a reminder of the power of love, and that the various romances of those in the woods could have ended on a much darker note if the players involved were more rash or more uncompromising. The love in Midsummer seems slight - changeable and subject to manipulation. And yet despite all that it still remains love, in all its glory. Therefore, it is true, powerful, and has significant (and potentially disastrous) consequences.


If This Were A Movie:
While not a movie, the dreamlike quality of A Midsummer Night’s Dream is best reflected by a fairy tale. Beyond the obvious - it is a story that involves fairies - it also is dripping with the trappings of the genre; young lovers forbidden from meeting, magical trinkets like love potions, and even the very setting - the forest, a place of mystery and transformation. Characters’ personalities change in an instant, suddenly loving what they once despised, and yet despite all this there’s never really any fear that things won’t be resolved happily. And Oberon himself seems to be the perfect fairy godmother, swooping in at the end to happily resolve everything by pairing off the couples, freeing everyone from their various enchantments, and finally blessing the three pairs of newly weds with happiness and fertility. In other words, a young couple, transgressing against authority runs off to the woods. They fall afoul of mystical mischief, but in the end all is set right by a benevolent and seemingly omnipotent mystical figure. And they lived happily ever after.

The Line From The Play That You Know:

Shall we their fond pageant see?
Lord, what fools these mortals be! - 3.2.114-115

Puck, or Robin Goodfellow, serves as the primary mischief-maker of the play - calling him an antagonist would probably be a bridge too far, but he is the main cause of much of the chaos that makes up the 2nd and 3rd acts of the play. This chaos is ripe for physical comedy, and good actors can have no end of fun playing the fools in these revels. Lysander and Demetrius’s dueling courtship of Helena, and her own growing exasperation with both, is especially of note - when done well it reaches Looney Tunes levels of overblown, slapstick-y romance, as does Hermia’s furious reaction to being called short.


The Line You Should Know:

The lunatic, the lover and the poet
Are of imagination all compact. - 5.1.7-8

Delivered by Theseus as he reflects on the wild story the various lovers have relayed to him following their night in the woods, this line speaks to the seemingly impossible nature of taking something ephemeral - something that does not tangibly exist - and putting it down into words. It seems like madness, and yet that is the goal of both poets and lovers; capturing that which cannot be seen and conveying it to someone else. As mentioned above, the play emphasizes its own dream-like nature and the inherent artifice of a staged production, putting it in the same category here as poetry. It tries to put into words some higher theme, even if that theme by its very nature can’t be defined in words.


Notable Adaptation:

I’m breaking with my established order here, as this is neither a true adaptation, nor is it a movie (though that’s less of an impediment). However, to my mind there is no better illustration of the themes of Midsummer than issue #19 of Neil Gaiman’s landmark fantasy comic series The Sandman. Collected in the series' third volume, Dream Country, the issue sees the main character of the series, Dream of the Endless - the god-like personification of dreaming and with that human creativity - commissioning William Shakespeare to write Midsummer, and stage a performance of it for the very real fairies that it depicts. The Sandman has had a huge influence on me, and this issue, often called the best in the series, is largely responsible for the interpretation of the play outlined above. It emphasizes the power dreams and stories have in shaping our world as well as our culture - “Things need not have happened to be true.” It’s also delightfully funny, with the various supporting fairies offering a running commentary on the various inaccuracies in how they’ve been portrayed. Add that to the delightful number of Shakespearean inside jokes - Gaiman is definitely a Bard-nerd - and you have an incredible story that lights up all the pleasure centers in my brain.


General Notes:
The texture and tone of this play changes dramatically based on how the fairies within it are portrayed, so it’s worth taking a moment to reflect on their character - both how they would have been seen in Shakespeare’s time as well as how they’ve come to be used now. Textually, the fairies are genteel and well-intentioned, if a little mischievous from time to time. Oberon sets much of the conflict in motion by going out of his way to help Helena, trying to aid her in winning the heart of Demetrius. While this seems familiar to a modern audience brought up on Disney films about benevolent fairy godmothers, it should be noted that this was something of a departure at the time. Shakespeare preceded the Brothers Grimm, and his fairy stories were of the same ilk as the ones they drew upon; morality plays meant to scare children back onto the straight and narrow path. These fairies were alien at best and outright cruel at worst. Shakespeare’s portrayal is therefore something of a departure from what was the style at the time, and in fact it’s been credited as a direct progenitor of the good fairies of Disney films like Sleeping Beauty, Pinocchio, and Cinderella.

Despite that, modern stagings do not always hew to this interpretation. Many choose to play up the inhuman nature of the fairies and their meddling in mortal lives. Puck in particular can either be a merry prankster or a sadistic torturer depending on the actor’s choices. The forest itself is also subject to some interpretation - is it an idyllic glenn reminiscent of Eden, or a haunted copse out of one of your darker fables? And even if a staging doesn’t choose to go full eldritch-horror with the fairies, they still present interesting options for interpretation. It’s become quite popular to have Theseus and Hippolyta’s actors double for Oberon and Titania, giving them more of the air of omnipresent chess masters moving things behind the scenes. And even stylistic choices like casting a trained ballerina in the role of Puck change how these fantastical characters impact the text. As is so often the case with Shakespeare, it’s left to the modern director to find their own meaning in the play.

A Monologue For the Road

If we shadows have offended,
Think but this, and all is mended,
That you have but slumbered here
While these visions did appear.
And this weak and idle theme,
No more yielding but a dream,
Gentles, do not reprehend;
If you pardon, we will mend.
And as I am an honest puck,
If we have unearned luck
Now to ‘scape the serpent’s tongue,
We will make amends ere long:
Else the puck a liar call.
So good night unto you all.
Give me your hands, if we be friends,
And Robin shall restore amends. - 5.1.409-424

The Complete Shakespeare: Coriolanus

The Tragedy of Coriolanus

Summary:
Caius Martius is a brilliant Roman soldier and general whose victory in battle over the neighboring warlord Aufidius earns him the name Coriolanus. On the back of these military victories, Coriolanus runs for public office, but his imperious nature and casual disregard for the common people prove to be ill-suited for government; rather than be elected, he is banished from the city by the masses. Coriolanus, now hungry for revenge, allies with Aufidius to renew the war against Rome. Knocking at the city’s gates and set to conquer, he is swayed to mercy by his wife, mother, and child, and for this betrayal is murdered by Aufidius.

What It’s About:
Uncompromising pride sows the seeds of its own destruction.

Even if it isn’t the bard’s best known play, Coriolanus treads familiar territory for those that know their Shakespeare - or even for those that know their classical tragedies. The man himself, Caius Martius Coriolanus, who per ancient historians like Plutarch was an actual Roman general, is an archetypal tragic hero. He is a classically ‘great man’ - a war hero that wades into battle single-handedly and emerges literally bathed in the blood of his enemies. However, he is crippled by a fatal flaw - in this case his pride, which colors his opinions against the plebeians of Rome and makes him unwilling to bow and scrape and curry their favor, even as he presents himself for election to public office. Moreover, after the common folk turn against him - somewhat justified given the insults he hurls their way - they accuse him of treason, and he lashes out so viciously and violently against this slight that the plebeian's initial response is to call for his execution. This pride follows him throughout the play - he is repeatedly urged to be mild, to stand down, to let insults to his person pass without comment. And yet he cannot, and as he is whipped into a furor by insults both perceived and real, it becomes easier and easier to paint him as a danger to Rome, to the Volsces, and to the world at large.

What is so fascinating in all of this is that, unlike some of Shakespeare’s other tragic heroes, Coriolanus remains a blank slate. Whereas protagonists like Macbeth and Caesar have lengthy monologues explaining their inner tumult, Coriolanus is a soldier, and is written as a soldier; he is a man of few words, and shuns the spotlight. He has no moments where he steps aside and lets the audience in on what’s going through his head. Instead we, like the commoners who eventually exile him, are merely left to wonder at his erratic behavior. This has the odd and not entirely unexpected effect of making Coriolanus one of Shakespeare’s least popular protagonists - he comes off as a brute, as a bully, and given his blatant disregard for the common folk and overbearing military stature, as a straight-up fascist. Small wonder then, that the play isn’t in heavy rotation on your high school reading lists.

If This Were A Movie:
Like Macbeth before it - a note to those interested, Coriolanus was one of the last tragedies Shakespeare wrote, dated 1605-1608 - this is a war film. The second act is essentially one long battle scene, and climaxes in Coriolanus charging through the gates of the enemy city alone, and single-handedly slaughtering an army. Modern stagings have a lot of fun with this, and given the text literally calls Coriolanus out as being coated in blood, there’s plenty of eye-catching gore that would not look out of place in your more hard-R inclined summer blockbusters.

However unlike Macbeth, which itself had an undercurrent of Game of Thrones to it - the various wars for succession and royal factions playing against each other in service to find the ‘true king’ - the political situation of Coriolanus feels distinctly modern (and, as we’ll see when discussing adaptations, can very easily be applied to modern circumstances). With its focus on the conflict between the nobility and the commoners, plus the extended debate on a bellicose general’s suitability for public office, this is a play concerned with realpolitik. In that sense, it also shares some DNA with modern political thrillers - films that look at the dark underbelly of governance and what the true qualities of a leader are.

The Line From The Play That You Know:

So our virtues
lie in th’interpretation of the time - Coriolanus 4.7.49-50

Given the play’s fairly obscure status (at least within the cannon of Shakespeare), it’s not surprising that a line from it has not really permeated the public consciousness. The above is certainly not well known, however I think the thought behind it is, and moreover it’s a good thing to emphasize as we discuss this play. Shakespeare cautions against the idea praising men like Coriolanus, and really elevating any ‘hero’ in particular, when the strengths and virtues that make them so praise-worthy are inherently dependent on context. Coriolanus is a great general and a fierce warrior. But what exactly about those qualities suggest he’ll be a strong political leader as well?

The Line You Should Know:

Stain all your edges on me. ‘Boy!’ False Hound!
If you have writ your annals true, ‘tis there
That, like an eagle in a dovecote, I
Fluttered your Volscians in Corioles.
Alone I did it. ‘Boy!’ - Coriolanus 5.6.111-115

Coriolanus’s boast in the face of Aufidius after he has shown mercy to Rome, and before he is murdered in the Volscian forum. He’s goaded into this, his pride baited and his wrath inflamed by taunts lobbied his way by Aufidius. Despite the fragility of the alliance he’s established and the danger this could present, he cannot let these comments pass and responds in classic fashion by unleashing a tirade at his accusers. As is expected with a classic tragic hero, Coriolanus’s biggest flaw is also his greatest strength - as a soldier he was peerless because he was headstrong, proud, and fearless, willing to rush into a situation no matter the danger to himself. He shows that same attitude in his civilian life, and it costs him dearly.

Notable Adaptation:

The 2011 adaptation, directed by and starring Ralph Finnes in the titular role, does the impressive job of turning Shakespeare (albeit briefly) into an action movie. While no one would ever mistake this for an entry into the Marvel Cinematic Universe, the film successfully captures the gory reality of Coriolanus as a character, updated to a modern setting. Finnes’ battle scenes with Gerard Butler in particular have a furious, kinetic intensity that make it instantly apparent why people would be willing to follow this otherwise uncouth man.

The setting in particular deserves some attention, modernizing the work and setting it in “a place calling itself Rome.” The film itself was shot in Serbia, and pretty unambiguously references the conflicts that made up the breakup of Yugoslavia. Moreover, it uses the pageantry of cable news and the specter of populist uprising and revolt in a way that makes the play feel extremely modern - and all the more frightening for its political undertones.

General Notes:
Let’s talk about the fascism. Coriolanus as a character presents some distinctly anti-populist leanings, frequently decrying the plebeians of the city - the commoners whose voices were heard in the government through elected tribunes - as a worthless rabble, susceptible to flattery and with no real conception of how a government should be run. He criticizes them for being prone to flights of fancy, and the text itself supports this - the plebeians who are given voice throughout the play are shockingly changeable and easily prone to manipulation. First they support Coriolanus, then they don’t. First they want him exiled, then they want him back. Scene 4.6 is especially notable in this regard, with several of the citizens who just a few scenes ago were calling for Coriolanus’s execution now claiming his banishment “was against our will” (Coriolanus 4.6.144).

And yet, the plebeians’ criticisms of Coriolanus are all equally valid - he openly insults them at every turn, and refuses to follow the established procedures expected of a candidate for office. Were this man to be made consul, is there any doubt his term would be defined by that same hostility toward the people and flagrant disregard for proper protocol? The charge of treason is leveled against Coriolanus via the claim that he seeks to become a tyrant - a king like those that, historically, Rome had just overthrown at this point. This is disdained by Coriolanus and his supporters, but given his track record it feels like a very valid criticism.

The complaints the plebeians levy against the nobility of the city also feel disconcertingly modern. “The leanness that afflicts us, the object of our misery, is an inventory to particularize their abundance; our sufferance is a gain to them” (Coriolanus 1.1.17-19). At the beginning of the play, Rome is in the midst of a famine, and the common folks claim that this suffering is not because of any shortage of food, but rather because the rich hoard too much for themselves. Power, to their eyes, is concentrated in the hands of a select few, who sentence the masses to suffer so they can continue to line their pockets. Moreover, when the plebeians try to exert the control they feel entitled to, they are shouted down by this aristocratic upper class.

Let’s not beat around the bush here; there is a staging of this play that is unambiguously about Donald Trump and the current American political climate. It is shockingly modern in its insight into politics, and it is again a testament to Shakespeare’s skill as a writer that this play was written 400 years ago and yet still persists in finding meaning today. It’s also interesting to note that this is one of the few plays that has been banned or suppressed in the modern, Western world - specifically briefly in France in the late 1930s, and in post-war Germany. Given the very real dangers of fascism at the time this isn’t particularly surprising, but I’d caution against seeing the play purely as an argument for tyrannical power in the hands of a militaristic dictator. Coriolanus is hardly the clear-cut hero - his virtue or villainy lie in the director, the actors, and the way we shape the play to fit our own meanings.

A Monologue For the Road

We’ll end on a lighter note, with Aufidius’s monologue welcoming Coriolanus after he’s been banished from Rome. It should be noted that it’s become essentially canon (and is frankly textual), that there is more than a little homoertoic attraction between Coriolanus and Aufidius, and most modern stagings present this reunion as intimate. But see for yourself.

Here I clip
The anvil of my word, and do contest
As hotly and as nobly with thy love
As ever in ambitious strength I did
Contend against they valor. Know thou first,
I loved the maid I married; never man
Sighed truer breath. But that I see thee here,
Thou noble thing, more dances my rapt heart
Than when I first my wedded mistress saw
Bestride my threshold. Why, thou Mars, I tell thee,
We have a power on foot, and I had purpose
once more to hew the target from thy brawn
Or lose mine arm for’t. Thou hast beat me out
Twelve several times, and I have nightly since
Dreamt of encounters twixt thyself and me -
We have been down together in my sleep
Unbuckling helms, fisting each other’s throat -
And waked half dead with nothing. - Coriolanus 4.5.108-125