Shakespeare Under the Knife

Nelson Pressley's feature in this Sunday's (8/14/2011) Washington Post - now closed for comment on the internet - where four directors and a dramaturg talked about the pleasures of cutting the Bard for the sake of audience understanding and appreciation is a stunning testament to group hubris and a sign of the times. What these gentlemen and a lady fail to grasp is that we are quite aware of what they are doing. We are part of the audience pool and not immersed in the artistic bubble of seeking awards or marketing a play. Shakespeare is one of those playwrights that is required reading, certainly before and probably after a visit to 1) familiarize yourself with the language, 2) to reconsider the historical context in which it was written - stylistically and conceptually, and 3) compare it to the director's intent and accomplishment in restaging.

If you don't read the play in advance, you'll frequently find what I and others have learned from sad experience. With all the cuts, you cannot understand the continuity and the literary significance of the story. Like seeing a film adaptation of a book, you're going to want to read it to understand the artist's vision. All those characters and subplots are there for a reason. And when you've done some writing (and editing) you'll find that a cut - any cut - has reverberations elsewhere in your text, some of them anticipated, others which are not and missed. If a director and his or her dramaturg are on the same wavelength as the writer, there may be less lost in the translation or transposition to stage. However, if it's a top-down approach - with the conception being framed by the director's hobbyhorse or the perceived notions of the audience, often framed by marketing and sales - you had better consult a script after it is rearranged to suit their purposes.

If these folks think we're still too dumb to get it, I have several proposals. For one, offer the complete unexpurgated text on two nights, with some theater people in the house, to discuss the play before and after the show. Two, provide a modern translation, equivalent to what you would find in Beowulf, and present the plays side-by-side in repertory with the original. If these won't do, as a final alternative, which was suggested by one of the directors, advertise the play, in billings several point sizes larger than the title, as an ADAPTATION. When you shave an hour to an hour and a half off of a three to four hour play, regardless of whether it's set in nineteenth century Vienna or the Old West, that's all you're left with, an adaptation. Because, Shakespeare (or whoever), it's not.