We spend large amounts of time blathering blissfully about things writerly here in the Dream Cafe. In conversation the other day about this blog’s title, Steve mentioned that the line showed the true genius of the Bard. In response to the line “What do you read, my lord?”, any good writer could have come up with the response “Words.” It took Shakespeare to boldly brave the repetition and turn Hamlet’s retort into something much larger and deeper.
Shakespeare’s plays, for full effect, are meant to be experienced, not simply read. The writer, the reader, the actor, and the audience are all vital roles in this product. Let’s explore the actor’s perspective to learn more of the brilliance within. A good actor is no more just reading the words of the script than you should be. Ideally, one would have the (well-annotated) script, a copy of the OED, Shakespeare’s Bawdy, at least two or three good reference books, and access to a skilled dramaturg and an Elizabethan scholar, both of whom one could invite over for daily drinks and debates.
Lacking any or all of these resources, it is still the job of any good Shakespearean actor to use all the references at their disposal to discover as many of the layers within the words as they can. Any nuance not understood by the actor is a point that will not convey clearly to the audience, and the play performance will be that much weaker for the lack. Shakespearean acting is full-body acting–think Elizabethan contact sports.
Fortunately, you can have reading material for several hours, perhaps days, just with the information, essays, theories, and dissections of Hamlet available on the internet. To try to encompass all of the possible interpretations would take more words than this blog has room, but here’s a little example of part of the process.
Earlier in Act II scene ii, from when Polonius approaches Hamlet.
P: Do you know me, my lord?
H: Excellent well, you are a fishmonger.
P: Not I, my lord.
H: Then I would you were so honest a man.
P: Honest, my lord!
H: Ay, sir; to be honest, as this world goes, is to be
one man picked out of ten thousand.
Remember Polonius is trying to determine the depths of Hamlet’s madness. Hamlet’s response of “fishmonger” works on multiple levels. On the surface of it he is so far gone in madness as to confuse Polonius with a vendor of fish. However, it becomes a far more interesting line when you research enough to learn that the word “fishmonger” was also slang at the time for the Elizabethan equivalent of “pimp”, a procurer of whores. (Polonius later in the scene uses his daughter to further probe at Hamlet’s supposed madness.) Now, is Hamlet calling him less honest than the common street vendor, or less honest than a pimp? or both? Layered insults are a Shakespearean specialty.
The interplay of the next few lines between the two characters over the word “honest” is quite fascinating. Each time we revisit a word in Shakespeare’s work it is used with different meaning and for specific effect. The dictionary.com definition of the word “honest” lists nine different meanings.
hon•est – adjective
- honorable in principles, intentions, and actions; upright and fair: an honest person.
- showing uprightness and fairness: honest dealings.
- gained or obtained fairly: honest wealth
- sincere; frank: an honest face
- genuine or unadulterated: honest commodities.
- respectable; having a good reputation: an honest name.
- truthful or creditable: honest weights.
- humble, plain, or unadorned.
- Archaic. chaste; virtuous.
Now we decide which we think each meant, remembering that Shakespeare was fond of layering double and triple meanings to words whenever possible. In my opinion, with “so honest a man” there is at least the double action of meanings #1 and #8. Polonius is most likely responding with meaning #6, with maybe a little #3 in “Honest, my lord!” And though it’s possible Hamlet’s “Ay, sir; to be honest…” is working the #4 and #7 angles, I like to think that there’s a hefty dose of #9 at work. If I wanted more clarity on the last, I’d further research the “one man picked out of ten thousand” comparison, as it sounds suspiciously like some Classical or colloquial reference of the sort of which Shakespeare was fond of scattering throughout his work. I sometimes like to imagine William, daily giggling like a madman as he played with the language, pushing his toys and tools to–and sometimes past–their limits, as grand as Leonardo da Vinci in the hidden treasures and secret meanings he layered onto the page.
So we’ve done our research, examined Hamlet with a dramaturg’s eye, delved into as many levels as we can find that are driving and pulling apart Hamlet, and now we can focus on the actual line at hand: “Words, words, words.”
I have often heard this line delivered almost as a throwaway: an airy, disinterested dismissal, a witty retort to Polonius’ question. While these might work on the surface, they stunt sounding the true depth of the line. A whole story arc can be experienced by Hamlet and delivered to the audience in this single line, given enough study and skill. The exact arc depends on the individual actor’s interpretation of Hamlet (both the character and the play). I’ll leave for another day the post about “Symbols, Sounds, and Syntax As Visual and Vocal Cues for Actors Working With Shakespeare”, but I’ll quickly mention here that even the very sound and shape of “words”–if one is correctly enunciating and hitting all the consonants–makes you slow down a bit, especially with three iterations together. You can’t rush through that line and still transmit the full meaning to others.
So here we are at the first “words”, the direct response to Polonius asking “What do you read, my lord?” As Steve said in the conversation I alluded to at the beginning of this entry, he or another skilled writer could have written the dialogue stopping here, at the first iteration. It’s Hamlet being a smartass, using his wit to deflect and direct the attention of Polonius. His exchange between himself and someone else in his environment says to us words are what we have, our tools at hand.
Remember that in most productions Hamlet would have a book as a prop in this scene. How does his relationship with the book change with each utterance? How does tone of voice relate to all the other levels at work here, how is it used to help convey meaning? What is Hamlet doing with his body movement and positioning to reinforce or contradict his word messages? Don’t forget to ask yourself these sorts of questions as you’re progressing through the scene to help you find all the levels to play in the play.
With the second “words” we transition from the flippancy of the first and set up for the starkness of the third. It’s more contemplative; it’s Hamlet echoing his own response to himself and getting caught in the deeper meaning living in the underneath. It’s his realization that words are all we have. Words are the matter of this entire business–the play, the events within the play, the dialogue, words the only means by which the playwright can communicate his meaning to his audience. They are Hamlet’s weapons, and he’s starting to figure out that his reach may be beyond his grasp.
By the time we reach the third “words”, Hamlet’s despair and rage are in full force. This iteration conveys the bleakness of his mission, his understanding that his path will most likely lead to the words of a eulogy; at the end there will be nothing left of any of this but words on the page. It’s also a renewed resolve to continue his path even in the face of futility. And as in so many other places in Hamlet, it “breaks the fourth wall”; it is Hamlet not speaking to self or other but to the world, a conduit for the author speaking to the audience directly. It’s Shakespeare breaking all the “proper writing rules” and getting away with in because he’s just. that. good. It’s the understanding that for better or worse, words are all we are.
In the moment of delivering a line, the actor has spent time and effort to understand all these things–and then forgets them all as things to be known, and simply is Hamlet at the moment of focus of all these conflicting forces. If the writer has built a true masterpiece, this same actor will be able to return to rehearsal tomorrow and find a different set of interpretations that delightfully fit the available text, and again on the next day, and the one after that. We follow in the footsteps of greatness; never be afraid to play with the language, delight in these tools. It’s the beauty both of the theater and of writing, this grand playground of words to shape and mold.
To continue the game, put your mind to unraveling this next part. A few exchanges between Hamlet and Polonius later, and Polonius bows out with “…My honourable/lord, I will most humbly take my leave of you.” Hamlet responds with:
You cannot, sir, take from me any thing that I will
more willingly part withal: except my life, except
my life, except my life.
Since Shakespeare never included repetition without intent, the game is now to decide the meanings Hamlet intends in these three iterations. What changes happen with each? How do they mirror the interpretations of the line “words, words, words”? Examine the exchanges between Hamlet and Polonius in-between these two lines. Somewhere in there, Hamlet screws up, and Polonius catches it, and Hamlet realizes this, and the dynamic between the characters changes again. How do these realizations lead to Hamlet repeating “except my life” right here?
I was chattering excitedly about finishing this blog entry at lunch with a friend today, when she exclaimed “Why don’t they teach Shakespeare this way in schools? I’ve never learned any of this! The way you describe it, Shakespeare should be studied by anyone who wants to write, as well as act.” And I certainly can’t disagree with that idea; I want to see my words dance, I want to be that madman giggling in literary glee. I give great thanks to the influence of director Brenda Prothro, dramaturg Rene Moreno, and director Jane Titus among many others for helping infuse in me the love of Shakespeare’s plays and understanding the words within them.
Here in this weblog the three of us are talking to each other; and to ourselves; and to you, our audience. Greetings, cheers, and welcome to Words Words Words.
36 responses so far ↓
1 Jennifer // Jan 22, 2008 at 12:06 am
Wow, I am so looking forward to sitting around talking about Shakespeare with you. OH! We should totally read every poem he ever wrote and sink into them… Cause if he did that with the plays, he must have done that with the poems.
I bet it would make me like sonnets better, too. :D
Jennifer
2 kit // Jan 22, 2008 at 3:19 am
This is excellent, I love how it turned out.
The ‘except my life’ repetition has so many layers, just like ‘Words’ did. In a way, Hamlet is observing how the path he is taking is throwing his life away, and Polonius, in working for the king, is one of the agents of his downfall. He is pleading in a way for his life — you can take this too, but please do not, make an ‘exception’ for it (unless you think this is too much of a stretch). I suspect he is also talking more metaphorically, maybe talking of the spark of life, enthusiasm, and how it has been taken from him by recent events.
I am still thinking this over, I hope some other people will contribute their opinions.
3 Jason // Jan 22, 2008 at 6:21 am
For my part, I like to imagine the title of this blog as spoken by Animal on the Muppet Show.
Shakespeare is the only universally-lauded artist I’ve never regarded as overrated.
4 kit // Jan 22, 2008 at 7:03 am
Jason: Which brings to mind Animal cast as Hamlet. That’s just ridiculous, but I kind of like the idea of Statler and Waldorf as Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. Statler and Waldorf Are Dead would be hilarious.
I think it’s almost impossible to overstate Shakespeare’s importance, not to mention the entertainment value he provides. Looking at some of his sonnets with Reesa and Jennifer tonight, I was reminded anew of how amazingly current so much of his themes remain.
5 SpeakerToManagers // Jan 22, 2008 at 7:08 am
Word.
6 reesa // Jan 22, 2008 at 7:54 am
Jennifer @1: When I’m done with you, you’ll not only LIKE his sonnets, you’ll want to WRITE them. *insert evil laugh here*
I am seriously going to the bookstore to get better references, though; that online one suckedy-sucked.
Jason @3: That imagery got an out-loud laugh out of me nice and early in the morning.
7 reesa // Jan 22, 2008 at 7:58 am
kit @2: It sounds like you’re definitely following a good deductive path there. Have you looked up the definition (including any archaic ones) to “except” yet?
@4 and Jason @3: Why, oh why, do I not remember any Muppet Shakespeare? That would have been sublime.
8 reesa // Jan 22, 2008 at 8:01 am
Kit @4: And I’m sorry, but Animal doesn’t have nearly enough angst to be Hamlet. Kermit would definitely have been cast. Though this does raise the question of where to put Animal instead…
9 kit // Jan 22, 2008 at 8:08 am
Reesa@7: as we just discovered, but sharring with our readers: muppet william shakespeare.
I want to see that Peter Sellers sketch, and Patrick Stewart doing ‘A B or Not a B.’
10 kit // Jan 22, 2008 at 8:24 am
Zounds, Internet to the rescue…
A B or Not a B.
And… Richard the Third on tuned chickens
11 Shanlea // Jan 22, 2008 at 8:31 am
Ok, Reesa, just WOW! Once I finally got through it uninterupted, I just sat back, wanted a smoke, and to think about it for a while. I don’t know alot about Shakespeare as a whole, seen some plays, movies, etc, but never dived into to written parts, and never really gotten this deep into it. I think at this depth, it helps to have a guide.
Just….wow. Ok. I am so looking forward to more of this, and maybe some suggestions of where to begin with some reading? (oh teacher mine)
Btw, without Jim Henson, no Muppet Shakespeare, sorry :( *sniffles*
12 Shanlea // Jan 22, 2008 at 9:17 am
kit@10 – *giggles* That is the reason I shall own ALL Muppet Shows! Muahahahaha!
13 SpeakerToManagers // Jan 22, 2008 at 9:23 am
There’s a place for Animal, but not in Hamlet. If you think about Kermit’s part in the Muppet Show, there’s one play that calls out for the whole troupe: The Tempest. Kermit as Prospero, the rational person in a crowd of people jerked hither and thither by their desires and ambitions, holding things together by might, main, and magic. Animal is clearly Caliban, and I’m thinking Fozzie Bear would make an, uh, interesting Ariel. And if ever there was a cast of extras to play creatures of fay and magic, it’s the chickens and the rats.
14 SpeakerToManagers // Jan 22, 2008 at 9:29 am
Reesa, in part to prove I can be serious, thanks for a post that makes clear just how important the sound and delivery of the words are in Shakespeare. Hamlet’s a play, not a modern poem; it must be spoken, nay, declaimed, at least in part. If you haven’t seen a particular play performed you’ll probably miss at least some of it, but even reading it out aloud to yourself can reveal depths and nuances that a silent reading won’t uncover.
15 Jos // Jan 22, 2008 at 9:31 am
I…
Holy crap!
You have managed to stir back into life the flailing beast of rage, guilt and regret that I occasionally feel when I realize how much I loved acting and directing for the stage, and that I’ve given them up (at least for a few more years).
Damn it!
And…
Thanks.
16 Jos // Jan 22, 2008 at 9:31 am
Oh,
and unless you object, linked to my LJ.
17 zizban // Jan 22, 2008 at 12:04 pm
I saw Othello at the restored Globe in London and you are 100% correct; the experience is far better than reading it. He does draw the audience in. It was one of the top ten best things I have ever done.
18 Jason // Jan 22, 2008 at 1:34 pm
Kit@4: Statler and Waldorf are Dead is brilliant. I may have to write a short piece on that.
Reesa@6: I’m happy to have made you laugh–though I hope no hot coffee came out of your nose. That hurts.
19 Jason // Jan 22, 2008 at 2:05 pm
And since we’re being irreverent with the Bard–here’s a meeting between “Shakey” himself and a draconian editor in Edmund Blackadder.
I once had an advanced Comp class in college during which my crazy prof made us read and explicate Hamlet for sixteen weeks.
I loved that class.
20 reesa // Jan 22, 2008 at 3:52 pm
Speaker @13: Oh, a most excellent choice and casting!
@14: Just because we CAN be serious doesn’t mean we should, but I do appreciate the positive feedback all the same. And I quite agree, if you live in an area where going out to see a Shakespeare performance is not an option, reading it aloud can definitely help comprehension.
21 reesa // Jan 22, 2008 at 3:59 pm
Jos @15: I walked away from that particular drug of choice about 12 years ago, and still, still, still miss it. I think I shall not be able to stay away forever; a couple of years ago I got to audition for one of the Midsummer faeries and was reminded very viscerally of just how unique a “high” acting is. Nothing else quite like it.
Very glad you enjoyed the essay and that it evoked that sort of feeling and memory for you, as writing it did for me. And as far as I can tell, anything we write here is OK to link back to, thank you!
22 reesa // Jan 22, 2008 at 4:24 pm
Jason @18: If you write that, link to it for us in comments!
And no worries, I’m a cold coffee sort of gal, so no nostril burns for me.
That sounds like an awesome class indeed, what a great experience to have!
23 kit // Jan 22, 2008 at 4:53 pm
Shan @ 11 & 12: It’s true. Henson’s kids and whatnot do an OK job but some bit of spark is missing. And I do quite agree — I think we’re going to have to own the muppet show here too. It’s obvious I’ve forgotten how funny it was.
Speaker @ 13: Well cast. :)
Speaker@ 14: And the difference between a good cast and a bad one is so huge. I remember being almost mystified by the play when I saw it many years ago at the Yale Rep, which otherwise did a lot of good work when I was going. Although they did some interesting things with the cast (they had a male or female Hamlet depending on which nights you went) it was over all quite blah — the cast didn’t seem to know what they were really saying, in the way Reesa describes a thespian should.
OTOH I saw it later at an Austin ‘Shakespeare in the Park’ and was moved to tears.
Jos @ 15 ^ 16: I used to act too, and it is quite addictive. The heady feeling of being on stage fades from memory until one is reminded of how amazing it is when everything is going right and the audience is with you.
And yes please, link to anything you like here. There’s nothing ‘private’ about this blog and links spread traffic.
24 kit // Jan 22, 2008 at 5:01 pm
zizban@17: That soudns like quite an experience.
Jason@18 & 19: I thought someone should write it too, but didn’t feel inspired myself. If you want too, by all means, just be sure to share with us here. :)
Thanks for the Blackadder piece as well, it was quite LOL-worthy.
25 Jason // Jan 22, 2008 at 5:28 pm
My treatment won’t be a serious one (or maybe even a prompt one) but I can’t claim ownership since Kit was the one who threw it out.
It would have to be one of those “pieces of dubious provenance.”
De-hurk.
26 Arphie // Jan 22, 2008 at 5:46 pm
While talking about shakespeare quotes that is delivered in threes…
“Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow”
Macbeth Act5, Scene 5
it really conveys Macbeth’s emotions (if well played that is)
(sorry for any bad spelling, grammar and such, I’m from Sweden)
27 kit // Jan 22, 2008 at 6:43 pm
Arphie@26: That is also one of my favorites, I still have it memorized from my acting days.
Moments like this have so much depth in them, so much raw emotion — Macbeth wondering if there is any purpose to all of this shouting, or if it is all just ‘a tale told by an idiot’ — that it is actually somewhat infuriating to see it poorly performed. You want to shake the performer (and do worse to his director) for blundering along coldly when so much meaning is inches away beneath the surface…
28 kit // Jan 22, 2008 at 7:20 pm
On Reesa’s dinner break from the shop we were enjoying the exchange between Celia and Rosalind in As You Like It, which includes:
O wonderful, wonderful, and most wonderful
wonderful! and yet again wonderful, and after that,
out of all hooping!
29 SpeakerToManagers // Jan 23, 2008 at 2:05 am
kit @ 23
I wish that Brian Henson had kept his promise and retired Kermit permanently. He can imitate his father doing Kermit, but it’s an imitation of an imitation of life, and it’s hard to watch that when you remember Jim Henson and Kermit as they were. I never met Jim Henson, but I cried more when I heard he had died than when I heard my father had died. He and his work were a part of my life for many years.
30 Jason // Jan 23, 2008 at 6:25 am
Jim Henson and Sammy Davis, jr. died on the same day–May 16, 1990. This supports my long-standing belief that Sammy Davis, jr. was a muppet all along.
When Mr. Henson died they could no longer continue the charade.
31 Kiki // Jan 23, 2008 at 11:31 am
I’ve been waiting to comment on this splendiferously eponymous post and now I see everyone has beaten me in terms of erudition and muppet references, sigh.
However, I do have an appropos link to share that I lifted this morning from a friend’s journal: I present it here as a counterpoint (or perhaps an extension of Shakespeare’s line of thought) somewhere along the lines of “wordless, wordless, wordless…”
http://www.femmerotic.com/journal/2008/01/22/the-silence-at-the-end-of-this-post/
32 skzb // Jan 23, 2008 at 1:33 pm
Jason: I have no comment on the Sammy Davis Jr issue, but I must observe that, after Mr. Henson’s death, Ronald Reagan never gave another speech.
33 reesa // Jan 23, 2008 at 1:42 pm
Arphie @26: Oh yes, that one is lovely. Your comment sparked a good half hour discussion here at the Dream Cafe, about that line and the one Kit quoted from As You Like It. Thank you!
Kiki @31: Perhaps this will teach you to not wait so long next time that you miss the muppet horizon. I don’t think “fashionably late” is this blog’s style.
Very interesting link you posted! I’m quite fascinated by the idea of wordless photo blogging, and photography as art in general. Are you thinking about exploring something related to this idea in your own blog?
34 reesa // Jan 23, 2008 at 2:09 pm
Shan @11: So lovely to have inspired such response in you! Well hmm, I’ll have to see if there’s a way to fit you in as a remote member of the Willy reading group. Plus, I somehow rather suspect this won’t be the only time I get the urge to spout off like this.
35 Jason // Jan 23, 2008 at 3:28 pm
Steve: I don’ t know . . . seems like Jim Henson’s hand would have made a better president than Ronnie did.
But here’s a thought. Hinkley shot Reagan in March of 1981. The Muppet Show ended that same year.
Coincidence?
36 Siun // Jan 24, 2008 at 1:43 am
Reesa … wonderful post and a great trigger for some very good memories here. After becoming addicted to the research/analysis approach to lit thanks to two quite wonderful professors of 19th c. american, I took Shakespeare with a young hellion who refused to let us do any research at all and insisted we just dive intensely into the language. We fought loudly for a full semester and then I caved in and went with the flow … and it was astonishing. Turning off my “let’s analyse” brain and just reveling in Shakespeare’s words was amazing – and led to some writing I’m still proud of. And while I really love placing works in context, it’s thanks to Mike Shea (the hellion) that I stopped missing the sheer beauty of the words (words, words).
Thanks for reminding me!
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