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To Be or Not to Be Shakespeare

by Julia M. Klein
NOVEMBER 14, 2011        TAGS: MOVIES, THEATER         ADD A COMMENT
The theory that William Shakespeare (1564-1616), an actor and grain dealer from Stratford-upon-Avon, was not actually the author of the plays attributed to him has been kicking around for centuries. The so-called anti-Stratford case has had no dearth of celebrity supporters, from Mark Twain and Sigmund Freud to the Shakespearean actors Derek Jacobi and Mark Rylance -- both appearing in Roland Emmerich’s disappointing new film on the subject, Anonymous. 

AnonymousThe skepticism about Shakespeare’s authorship rests largely on two pillars: the paucity of written evidence tying him to the plays (or anything else) and the fact that his education, travel and life experiences were apparently so limited. Far more likely, the doubters say, for these sophisticated works, with their references to courtly customs, foreign languages, the classics and European geography, to have been penned by another notable writer of the Elizabethan Age – the philosopher Francis Bacon, for instance, or the playwright Christopher Marlowe.

At the moment, the most popular “Shakespeare” -- for those who reject Shakespeare himself -- is Edward de Vere, the 17th Earl of Oxford (1550-1604).  The aristocratic de Vere was a poet and playwright with the requisite background and education. Conspiracy theorists also point to similarities between his family history and the relationships in Hamlet and other Shakespearean works. 

At its most fanciful, the Oxford hypothesis includes the “Prince Tudor” theory, which suggests that de Vere was either Queen Elizabeth’s son or her lover or both -- and that he sired a son with her.  Anonymous adopts this far-fetched idea with a vengeance, and then proceeds to muddle it further with sloppy storytelling. 

Any straightforward attempt, however conjectural, to illuminate the relationships among Shakespeare, his competitor Ben Jonson, de Vere, Queen Elizabeth and the queen’s father-son advisers, William and Robert Cecil, might well have made for a yeasty intellectual stew. But the script by John Orloff is an indigestible mess. 

The film’s prologue features the magnificent Derek Jacobi onstage, in a theater featuring a show titled Anonymous.  Instead of a stage play, though, what follows is this overwrought film, which shifts in flashback and flash forward among three different time frames. This narrative tactic might have worked in more skillful hands; here, it just confuses, particularly in the first third of the film, when it’s hard to keep the characters straight.

As a period piece, Anonymous often looks good, with eerie candlelit rooms, snowy cityscapes and diaphanous costumes. The stage scenes (with Rylance as a Shakespearean actor) are an authentic-seeming nod to theatrical history. But some of the film’s acting is over the top (the usually peerless Vanessa Redgrave is particularly hammy as Queen Elizabeth in her dotage), and the editing slams us violently from close-up to close-up without much grace or panache.   

The labyrinthine plot of Anonymous requires us to accept that the so-called Virgin Queen gave birth to at least three illegitimate children, all raised apart from her, in secrecy, by foster families. The young queen (played with verve by Joely Richardson, Redgrave’s daughter) is a lively and randy soul, while her older counterpart flirts with dementia.

As for de Vere, while he utilizes his life story and court politics in his works, he also seems to be in the grip of schizophrenia. He hears voices in his head, he tells his disapproving Puritan wife, Anne Cecil, and the only way he can get them to stop is by writing down what they say. Rhys Ifans portrays the earl as a coolly elegant soul whose suppressed emotions threaten to burst to the surface when he watches his works performed to mass acclaim. By contrast, Jamie Campbell Bower, as the young earl, is passionate, warm-blooded and quick to use his poetic gifts to seduce the word-drunk Elizabeth.

The Shakespeare of Anonymous (Rafe Spall) is an often-inebriated country bumpkin who beds barmaids rather than monarchs. He is depicted as semi-illiterate – able to read but not write – and far more capable of extortion than iambic pentameter. His only genius consists in a certain showmanship, along with having the foresight to build a newer, bigger theater for “his” plays.

Ben Jonson (Sebastian Armesto) cuts a somewhat more heroic figure. Already an established playwright, he is initially offered the chance to “front” de Vere’s plays because the aristocrat dares not be associated with the rough-and-tumble of the stage. “In my world we do not write plays,” de Vere declares (though the real de Vere did). Jonson, who believes in his own voice and vision, passes the privilege of front man to Shakespeare, who at first is interested only in the fee.

Gradually, though, Shakespeare comes to relish the applause and adulation of the mob. It is not an easy thing for the presumably more talented Jonson to watch this increasingly pompous actor strut and fret his time upon the stage, taking lavish credit for de Vere’s masterpieces. And it’s no picnic for the rest of us, either.  

Julia M. Klein, a cultural reporter and critic and a contributing editor at Columbia Journalism Review, writes frequently for Obit. Follow her on Twitter @JuliaMKlein 


 

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