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The Play's the Thing:
The Use of Theatre in Shakespeare
A Midsummer Night's Dream and Hamlet
“All the world’s a stage, and all the men and
women merely players.” This might have seemed the case in you lived
in a Shakespeare play, for nearly all of his plays refer, in one way or
another, to plays and playing. In many of them, it is with just a line,
comparing life to a stage, as in this line from As You Like It,
or calling another person an actor. However, in some, Shakespeare has
a full-blown play taking place inside his own play. Two of the most notable
of these are A Midsummer Night’s Dream, with the play put
on by the Mechanicals, and Hamlet, in which “the play’s
the thing will catch the conscience of the king.” But before we
look at these two plays in detail, what is the purpose of Shakespeare’s
continual reference to theatre?
The traditional wisdom in writing plays is to avoid drawing
attention to the fact that it is, in fact, a play, and not real life.
Shakespeare, however, continually reminds us that we are watching a play.
For Jaques, the character who speaks the “world’s a stage”
monologue in As You Like It, is being portrayed by a player.
In Twelfth Night, Fabian compares the trick played on Malvolio
to a ludicrous play, saying ‘If this were played upon a stage now,
I could condemn it as an improbable fiction.’
This only makes the audience remember that it is being played upon a stage.
Does Shakespeare intend us to agree with Fabian and condemn his plays
as improbable fiction? I think not. While the sequence of events in Shakespeare’s
plays may be improbable, the themes and principles contain deep truths.
In fact, it is not the plot that is of most importance in any great play,
but how the plot reveals human nature. For Shakespeare, the story is only
the vehicle for getting ideas across to his audience. Therefore, he had
no problem appropriating previous stories or history, even, to his own
ends—changing what he wanted to fit with what he wanted to say.
Rather, Shakespeare is reminding us that we are watching a made-up play,
and that we must look beyond the surface to see the purpose in it.
For while the events are imaginary, the characters and
emotions are not. Sometimes what seems to be real, the things we can touch
and see with our eyes, are not as real as those things which we must imagine.
Our outward senses can be deceiving, and Shakespeare teaches us that the
“real” is not always the most helpful to us, and often it
is the “unreal” that we need to understand. Plays are “unreal”;
the people are actors; they put on costumes and makeup; and no matter
how hard playwrights attempt to make them “real,” they will
never be “real.” They will always be an imitation of life,
not life itself. We must go to plays, learn what they have to teach us,
and then return to real life with new knowledge about it that we could
not have learned from life itself.
Shakespeare uses the play-within-the-play device specifically
for a couple of reasons. Firstly, to teach the audience how to watch a
play. In A Midsummer Night’s Dream, there are two audiences
for Pyramus and Thisbe: the audience in Theseus’s court,
and the audience watching Shakespeare’s play. We see how they watch
the play, and we may learn from it. Hamlet describes the theatre as holding
“a mirror up to life.” If the play in Hamlet reflects
life within Hamlet, then it is an easy leap to the conclusion
that Hamlet itself reflects our life. What is true on stage is
true in real life.
As well as reflecting life in general, the play-within-the-play
also tends to reflect, or even reproduce, to a certain extent, the main
action. This is the purpose of most of Shakespeare’s subplots, but
having the events of the main story encapsulated inside a play reinforces
his intentions. This is especially clear in A Midsummer Night’s
Dream, which I will look at more closely in a minute. In Hamlet,
of course, the play is an exact re-enactment of the events which occurred
shortly before the beginning of Hamlet, namely, the death of
Hamlet’s father at the hand of Claudius.
A Midsummer Night’s Dream
A Midsummer Night’s Dream is a great starting
point for studying the themes of Shakespeare—it has nearly everything:
forbidden love, disguises, the spiritual world, a comic subplot, magic,
weddings, and most importantly for our purposes, a play-within-the-play.
To really discuss The Most Lamentable Comedy and Cruel Death of Pyramus
and Thisbe, we need to look for a minute at the whole subplot involving
the Mechanicals, the group of labourers who decide to put on a play to
perform at Theseus and Hippolyta’s wedding. Their story serves to
reflect the action of the main plot involving the two sets of lovers and
to deflect the ridicule which would otherwise fall on the lovers. For
love is, in this play, ridiculous. “Love makes fools of us all.”
The Mechanicals and the lovers are out in the woods in Act III: the lovers
wandering around foolishly, not knowing who they should love yet utterly
convinced that they do know; the would-be actors rehearsing their play,
not knowing how to do it, yet believing they have it under control. Bottom
thinks he knows everything about everything, when in reality, he knows
nothing about anything, until he is treated to the most wondrous vision
of being an ass beloved by a faithless fairy.
Every time I see A Midsummer Night’s Dream
performed, I forget that Pyramus and Thisbe is coming. It always
seems slightly tacked on to the end of a play which finished with Act
IV. And yet, after I watch Act V, I am always convinced that the performance
of Pyramus is essential to the play. From a purely dramatic perspective,
it ties off the Bottom subplot without leaving any loose ends. But also,
the play tells us how we are to react to the main plot, and teaches both
the audience within A Midsummer Night’s Dream and the larger
audience outside of it some things. The plot of Pyramus is basically
Romeo and Juliet: Young lovers are forbidden by their fathers
to love each other; they plan to meet each other in a wood, Thisbe is
frightened away by a lion, Pyramus finds her cloak and kills himself,
thinking her dead, and Thisbe finds him dead and stabs herself. What makes
it funny is the total ineptitude of the players. They cannot act, they
continually break out of character to talk to the audience, and they seem
to have no idea what is going on in the play they are playing.
And yet, if it is played right, the play still has an impact
on Theseus and his court, especially at the death of Thisbe. The reason
for this may be that they, as well as we, can see that Pyramus and
Thisbe is a reflection of the events of the main story, much as the
entire subplot is a reflection of the themes of the main story. Pyramus
and Thisbe are forbidden to love each other by their fathers; Hermia and
Lysander are forbidden to love each other by her father. Pyramus plans
to meet Thisbe in a wood to run away together; Lysander sets up a meeting
in the wood to run away with Hermia. Pyramus is surprised in the wood
by a force of nature, the lion, and killed. Lysander’s love for
Hermia is (temporarily) killed by a supernatural force, Oberon’s
love-flower. The fact that Pyramus and Thisbe ends in death for
the lovers sobers the real lovers, as they are forced to contemplate their
own death. Another theme in Shakespeare is the need to prepare for death.
In the comedies, this preparedness always involves getting love figured
out. Everyone must find out who to love, how to love, and what it is like
to be loved before he or she is ready to die. Pyramus and Thisbe had love
figured out, as shown through Thisbe’s last speech, which should
bring true emotion to the audience after the ridiculousness of the previous
scenes. Our lovers now also have love figured out, though it took supernatural
means to bring it about.
Much can be said about Bottom’s declaration that
“the wall is down.” For in Pyramus and Thisbe, they
were indeed separated by a wall, the wall between their respective fathers’
houses. It is for another paper to examine Wall in-depth, but the wall,
also is a reflection of what is going on with Hermia, Lysander, Helena,
Demetrius, and even Theseus and Hippolyta. All of these lovers had walls
of some kind or another between them, which are finally brought down by
the end of the play. Hermia’s father placed the wall between her
and Lysander, forbidding them to marry. Demetrius put up a wall between
himself and Helena, refusing to requite her love. Theseus and Hippolyta
themselves had a sexual barrier between them, having to wait until their
wedding night before they could consummate their love. In the fairy world,
Oberon allowed a wall of jealousy to cut him off from his queen Titania.
By the end of the play, the walls are all down, and Bottom makes sure
we know it.
In order to get these walls down, the lovers had to go
through a dream, and to a play. Dreams and the theatre are related: both
are built upon imagination, both require a suspension of belief, both
are “unreal,” both take us away from the everyday world, and
both may teach us things that we would never learn from real life. Dreams
can be very powerful—nightmares often leave the dreamer in a cold
sweat and keep him from returning to sleep for fear. Hamlet likens death
to a sleep, and is afraid of it, not knowing “what dreams may come.”
The theatre also has a power over us, if it is good theatre. It will move
us to tears or laughter, sometimes both; and if it is extraordinary, it
will force us to reflect on our own lives, confronting our inner selves
and becoming better people for it. Bottom is worried about the power of
the theatre. As they are rehearsing, he insists that a prologue be written
to assure the ladies that Pyramus is not dead and that the lion is not
really a lion. There is a tension created on stage between fantasy and
reality. For if a play is too real, it may be too terrifying, either physically
or psychologically, to watch. Yet if it is too fantastical, it will not
be believed and will make no difference in the lives of the audience.
This tension is well explored as the Mechanicals try to make Pyramus
both less real, by denying the reality of Pyramus’ death, and more
real, by wanting to have moonshine and a real wall. It turns out to be
impossible to make these things real on stage, and imagination must suffice.
Theseus affirms that the audience must, in fact, aid in making the theatre
work: “The best…are but shadows. And the worst are no worse,
if imagination amend them.”
A Midsummer Night’s Dream ends with Puck
talking directly to the audience, asking that their imagination amend
whatever faults are found in it, and requesting applause, a huge reminder
that we are actually watching a play ourselves. Puck asks us to do for
A Midsummer Night’s Dream exactly what Theseus said was
necessary for Pyramus and Thisbe. Shakespeare is teaching us
how to watch his plays. We are not to be bystanders, idly watching other
people do all the work to bring a play to us; rather we must be an active
part of the play itself, bringing our imagination to bear on it to amend
its faults, make it real, and deduce its value to our lives.
Hamlet
The play in Hamlet, titled The Murder of Gonzago,
plays a much more central role to the plot of Hamlet. Instead
of being part of a fifth-act resolution, it occupies the center scene
of Act Three. It really marks the turning point in Hamlet, as
Claudius realizes that his secret is out, and Hamlet knows how his father
died. In fact, it is the play itself that reveals this information to
Claudius, or at the very least, convicts Claudius in his soul of the sin
he has committed against his brother. It is unclear whether Claudius immediately
figures out that Hamlet knows the truth, or if the play merely awakens
Claudius’ latent conscience. In any case, he begins to pray for
his soul in the next scene, and he also prepares to send Hamlet away,
fearing him.
Hamlet has a problem. Several, really. But he uses The
Murder of Gonzago to work on two of them. First off, he has to trick
Claudius into revealing his part in Hamlet’s father’s murder.
Although he trusted the ghost at the beginning of the play, he is now
starting to doubt the ghost’s believability. He wants backup, and
he uses Gonzago to “catch the conscience of the king.”
The plot of Gonzago is nearly identical to the story the ghost
told Hamlet of his own death, and Hamlet hopes that Claudius will start
and give himself away while watching it. Hamlet is relying on the power
of theatre to awaken his uncle’s conscience, reminding him of his
murderous deed. Secondly, Hamlet has to find out who else, if anyone,
was involved in the murder. He is especially interested in the reaction
of the queen; besides wanting to know if she was in on the murder, he
wants her to realize her unfaithfulness in remarrying so quickly after
his father’s death.
For the play to be convincing enough to wrench these reactions
from the king and queen, it has to be well acted. To this end, Hamlet
has around fifty lines of acting advice for the players. He tells them
not to overact, keeping them from the errors of the Mechanicals of A
Midsummer Night’s Dream, for this play is not to be a comedy,
and he does not want it to lose its effectiveness through absurdity. He
denounces those who would try to get easy laughs when the play has “some
necessary question…then to be considered.”
Hamlet himself has a “necessary question” that he has inserted
into the play that he wants to make sure is heard and considered. Yet,
he does not want the players to be unemotional. They must “suit
the action to the word,”
for the purpose of any play is to “hold a mirror up to nature, to
show virtue her own feature, scorn her own image.”
In other words, plays reflect human nature. One who is virtuous will see
their virtue reflected, and one who is evil will see their evilness reflected.
It is the latter that Hamlet is counting on in his uncle. This idea is
not a new one. Aristotle argued that truth cannot be seen directly, but
only in reflection. The value of playing lies it its ability to reflect
the truth about human nature.
The question of what should be shown on stage was a big
issue in Elizabethan times. The Puritans of the time were afraid that
if vice were shown on stage, it would cause vice in the audience that
would not otherwise have been there. Therefore, only edifying, virtuous
things should be portrayed in the theatre. The playwrights argued, as
Shakespeare does here through Hamlet, that virtue will breed virtue, but
that showing evil on stage will also breed virtue, as the audience is
frightened by the events that occur because of evil. It is frightening
when Macbeth changes from a loyal soldier to a murderous tyrant, because
we fear that under similar circumstances, we might do the same thing.
It is frightening when Hamlet is so caught up with revenging his father
that he is in danger of losing his soul, because we fear for our own.
Hamlet intends to use this fear that good theatre evokes to frighten Claudius
and Gertrude.
Before we look more closely at The Murder of Gonzago,
there is a portion of another play within Hamlet. We are not
told the title, but it is based on Virgil’s Aeneid, involving
the murder of King Priam by Pyrrhus. Hamlet has seen the company of players
perform this play before, and has memorized some of the speeches. When
the company arrives in Denmark, he is moved to speak and hear from this
play. Pyrrhus was the son of Achilles, the great Greek warrior who was
finally killed by Priam of Troy during the Trojan Wars. Pyrrhus enters
Troy with one thing on his mind: kill the man who killed his father. Sound
familiar? It gets better. When Hamlet can remember no more, the First
Player continues the scene, describing the great battle between Pyrrhus
and Priam. Pyrrhus is right on the point of killing Priam, his sword raised
above his head, but, “like a neutral to his will and matter,”
he cannot deal the death blow. Pyrrhus is irresolute, his hesitation against
both his will and his duty, and yet he hesitates. Hamlet also is driven
by revenge to kill the man who killed his father, and Hamlet also is irresolute
and hesitant. However, though we notice these similarities, Hamlet himself
seems to identify Priam with his father, rather than with Claudius, because
the next thing he asks the player to recite is the response of Priam’s
queen Hecuba when she learns that her husband is dead (Pyrrhus did kill
Priam after that moment’s hesitation). Hecuba reacted with sorrow,
mourning and anger to the death of her husband and king; this is how Hamlet
thinks that his own mother should have felt at the death of Hamlet’s
father. In the comparison between Hecuba and Gertrude, Hecuba’s
grief wins over Gertrude’s unfaithfulness. Alternately, Hamlet could
have recognized himself as Pyrrhus and Claudius as the Priam who killed
his father. In that case, Hamlet’s paleness and weeping would be
caused by his realization that Gertrude could very well have been involved
in her husband’s death, and would sorrow at Claudius’ death.
Perhaps this is where Hamlet begins to see the opportunity to convict
not only Claudius but also Gertrude with The Murder of Gonzago.
For these scenes from Virgil almost certainly give Hamlet
the idea of using a play to trap Claudius. After the players leave and
Hamlet is alone, he wonders at their ability to bring forth such strong
emotion in a cause that is not true, when he cannot bring himself to do
anything against his father’s murderer. He is caught in the power
of theatre, and decides to use that power against his uncle. He even renames
the play The Mousetrap for Claudius’ benefit.
Hamlet puts his plan into action the very next day, having
asked his best friend Horatio to keep an eye on Claudius and Gertrude
for any sign of guilt during the play. Before Gonzago proper
begins, the actors put on a dumb show, basically running through the action
of the play quickly and silently—a sort of preview. Claudius does
not do anything at this point, for whatever reason; possibly the court
is not yet paying attention to the play. The play itself begins with a
king and queen conversing. Interestingly enough, the portion of the play
we see relates more to the question of Gertrude’s involvement in
the murderous plot than that of Claudius. The king and queen have been
married for thirty years, and the king fears that he will soon die, leaving
his queen behind to remarry. She declares that she will never marry again:
“None wed the second but who killed the first.”
Hamlet notes “That’s wormwood,” making a biblical allusion
to the “wormwood and the gall,” the bitter wine given to Jesus
Christ as he hung on the cross. This is the first provocative line in
Gonzago; the first to hint that there is a connection between
what is happening in the play and what is happening in Denmark. The queen
goes to on to say that every time she went to bed with her second husband,
it would be like killing the first again. All of this talk of the queen’s
avowed faithfulness to her current husband is clearly meant to provoke
Gertrude. In fact, at the next Gonzago scene break, Gertrude
thinks the queen is defending her faithfulness too much. She would, of
course, for by now she must have recognized herself in the queen. She
knows how difficult it is to remain faithful to a dead husband. Hamlet,
however, brings the point even more home by declaring that the queen will
remain true to her word. This, as we know from the dumb show, is not true.
Gonzago’s widow ends up wedded to his murderer, just as Gertrude
ends up wedded to Claudius.
The speech in lines 196 to 225 is thought by some to be
the speech written by Hamlet.
If so, it is fascinating that it concerns his own vacillation and Gertrude’s
unfaithfulness rather than Claudius’s guilt. The more I think about
it, the more this theory makes sense. After all, the action of the play
in itself is enough to convict Claudius. Everything is the same, even
down to the poison in the ear. And even if Hamlet changed that to make
it fit, that is only a change of stage direction and does not explain
the speech he intended to write. Also, we know that the speech was to
be written for the First Player, who plays the king. It is possible that
he plays another part as well in which he could have said the speech,
but it is unlikely, given the size and importance of the part of the king.
Hamlet is not concerned only with Claudius’s guilt. He also wants
a reaction from Gertrude, something that quite possibly was not guaranteed
by the original play. This speech also shows Hamlet’s own state
of mind at this point in Hamlet. The bulk of it argues that plans
built solely on passion fail, because passion is an emotion, and emotions
are not lasting. In Gonzago, the king is referring to the queen’s
passionate denial of any intention to remarry at the king’s death,
which she will renounce soon after his death. But it could just as well
refer to Hamlet’s loss of enthusiasm for killing his uncle. In fact,
this idea is repeated at least three more times elsewhere in the text.
As far as Gonzago itself goes, the speech is a warning to the
queen not to be too sure about her vow never to remarry—she has
a high likelihood of breaking it, as Gertrude did.
The next scene in Gonzago is the most important,
as it relates to the play’s role in Hamlet. By this point
Hamlet is very excited, discussing the play’s action with anyone
who will listen, and some who would probably rather not. A character called
Lucianus comes on stage, nephew to the king—a close relation. His
short speech tells of the strong poison he possesses, and he quickly takes
it and pours it into the ear of the king. Hamlet helpfully explains that
he poisons the king as he sleeps in the garden, and he will soon gain
the love of the king’s wife. Claudius gets the point and storms
off, ending the performance. Hamlet’s plan has worked, and the power
of the theatre has caught the conscience of the king, who straightaway
goes to pray for his soul—unsuccessfully as it turns out.
This play is different from the play in A Midsummer
Night’s Dream for the obvious reason that it performs an essential
role to the development of Hamlet’s plot. Pyramus and Thisbe
is important to reinforce Shakespeare’s meaning in Dream,
but by the time it happens, all of the real action has already taken place
and the problems been resolved. Gonzago, on the other hand, is
Hamlet’s proof that Claudius killed Hamlet’s father, and offers
Claudius a chance to repent and save his soul, which he is ultimately
unable to do.
Its position at the center of Hamlet also points
to the centrality of the theme of acting in Hamlet, and the rest
of Shakespeare’s plays in fact. Everyone in Hamlet is acting.
Hamlet is acting mad. Claudius is acting innocent. Gertrude is acting
as though nothing is suspicious about remarrying so soon after a loved
husband’s death. Polonius is acting wise. Perhaps the only one who
is not acting is Ophelia, who truly loves Hamlet and never says different.
Her purity cannot exist beside the rampant hypocrisy in Denmark, and she
dies.
Acting plays a big role in many of Shakespeare’s
plays; Edgar in King Lear acts mad to escape death. Regan and
Gonerill act the loving daughters. In A Winter’s Tale,
Florizel and Perdita act as the king and queen of the May, even speaking
at a different level. Viola pretends to be a boy in Twelfth Night,
bringing two sets of lovers together through her actions. Everyone in
Much Ado About Nothing is disguised; there is even a costume
ball to bring attention to the fact. Pretty much everyone in Shakespeare
is acting, or disguised at some point—a type of acting. The resolution
comes when the disguises are removed, and the acting stops, revealing
the true person underneath; each must accept who he is and who everyone
else is, and still love them.
If theatre is the mirror of nature, and what is true on
stage is true in real life, what do we learn from watching Shakespeare?
All the world’s a stage…and we are also playing parts. Even
if we do it unconsciously, most of us are acting out a role—whether
it is to be accepted, or popular, or to be loved or get a better job.
These disguises may be necessary for a time, as Viola’s was necessary
until it was safe for her to remove it, but when it comes right down to
it, we must be able to separate our roles from ourselves, and be willing
to step out of them at the right time.
We must also learn to recognize our own situations in the
plays that we see. If not the exact events of our life, as Gonzago
reflects Hamlet, at least we must see the emotions and vices.
Good theatre should convict us, just as Gonzago convicted Claudius,
seeing the state of his own soul reflected on stage. We just have to take
the step that he could not, and allow the power of theatre to change us
for the better.
This paper originated as a term paper for Shakespeare, Harlaxton
College, Spring, 2002.
©2002 by Jandy Stone
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