Some of these people, my gosh, Janelle Monae and Frank Ocean and Emma Gonzalez, they seem to have moved altogether past gender, right? Oh brave new world. And here's Shakespeare, who once again is meeting us in the future.

Let’s get to it: in Elizabethan times, female parts on the stage were played by men, so we’re starting with cross-dressing. Shakespeare was inspired and amused by this, and he often plays with it. Twelfth Night is the best example, and one of his most enduring comedies. Here’s how it goes: Viola, played by a man, disguises herself as a man. As a man she tries to woo Olivia for this guy Orsino. She falls in love with Orsino herself. Of course, Olivia falls in love with Man Viola. But there’s a real Man Viola - Viola’s lost brother Sebastian - whom Olivia meets later and mistakes for Man Viola, and who's played by the same guy anyway.

"An apple cleft in two is not more twin
Than these two creatures."

So we're running, what, four levels deep? Man plays woman plays man mistaken for another man who actually exists. Meanwhile Orsino has fallen for Viola even though he thinks she's a man:

Diana's lip
Is not more smooth and rubious, thy small pipe
Is as the maiden's organ, shrill and sound,
And all is semblative a woman's part,"

he says to her. In the end Olivia and the brother get married, and so do Viola and Orsino. All is well.

I know! "This is to give a dog and in recompense desire my dog again." Shakespeare seems indifferent to gender in ways we’re only starting to catch up with now. Here’s his famous 20th Sonnet:

A woman’s face, with nature’s own hand painted,
Hast thou, the master-mistress of my passion;
A woman’s gentle heart, but not acquainted
With shifting change, as is false women’s fashion;
An eye more bright than theirs, less false in rolling,
Gilding the object whereupon it gazeth;
A man in hue, all hues in his controlling,
Which steals men’s eyes and women’s souls amazeth.
And for a woman wert thou first created,
Till nature as she wrought thee fell a-doting,
And by addition me of thee defeated,
By adding one thing to my purpose nothing.
  But since she pricked thee out for women’s pleasure,
  Mine be thy love, and thy love’s use their treasure.

Here again, he seems to talk about love above gender. Shakespeare’s identity, sexual and physically, has been in question for ages; he’s a trickster and he’s a genius, and we’re collectively in a bit of a tizzy about it.

I have no horse in this race. I like the world weird. It's the future now, and some brave new vanguard of us are wiggling into some kind of post gender, post sexual orientation kind of situation. And here we are with hoary old Shakespeare, who seems to have beaten us to it, doesn't he? Plays like this will of course end traditionally, with everyone heteropaired off. But in between there's a confusion of flirting; anything seems possible. Dude Viola, pretending to make Orsino's case to Olivia, is clearly flirting with her instead. In the end they'll all marry people of the opposite gender - but not really, since they're all men up on that stage. The play is still happening.

I’ve been spending all this time talking about gender politics and I’ve forgotten to talk about the play. Will you like it? Sortof. The problem with Shakespeare's comedies is that they employ a lot of puns and wordplay, and that exposes our unfamiliarity with Shakespeare's words. There are these long scenes with people giggling about back-tricks and codding, and you just don't understand a word of it.

Toby: What is thy excellence in a galliard, knight?
Andrew: Faith, I can cut a caper.
Toby: And I can cut the mutton to't.

What the fuck is that? Who cares? There's a sub plot involving Toby, Andrew, Maria and Malvolio that should be entirely ignored. It's Shakespeare at his most impenetrable. The only fun part of it is, we get this famous quote: "Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them." Fun to see Shakespeare, here at the peak of his powers, just throwing shit around; these are immortal lines that've inspired countless dumb tattoos and dumber political speeches, and they come from a fake letter in a shitty subplot in a comedy. (And for that matter, they are considerably more dick-joke-oriented than these college students and politicians probably had in mind. Greatness! Thrust!)

Act III is almost totally lost to this nonsense. But this gender-bending shit - I want to be serious for a hot minute here. Shakespeare’s tragedies are more accessible than his comedies. This comedy, I like for its gender politics mostly. I’m a cis man. I was born a straight white man and that’s worked out great for me and I’ve never really had to debate anything. (I had sex with a guy once to see what it was like, don’t get me wrong, but let’s not confuse tourism with life.) To live in a world where people get to question and, if necessary, redefine their genders, or even discard the word - that makes the world richer for me. There are more stories. I don’t think it’s meaningless to have support from the best writer in the history of the planet. Here's what makes Shakespeare great: wherever humans find ourselves, we find him somehow there ahead of us.

He has explored the complex and often fluid nature of gender and sexuality in his works, long before it became a mainstream topic of discussion. His plays offer a rich tapestry of characters and relationships that challenge our traditional notions of gender and love. In Twelfth Night, for example, the cross-dressing and mistaken identities create a humorous and yet thought-provoking exploration of the blurring of gender boundaries.

Shakespeare's ability to capture the essence of human nature and the intricacies of human relationships is what makes his works timeless. His plays continue to resonate with audiences today, even as our understanding of gender and sexuality has evolved. Whether we are cisgender or transgender, straight or queer, we can all find something in Shakespeare's works that speaks to our own experiences and emotions.

In conclusion, Shakespeare's plays are not just historical artifacts; they are living works of art that have the power to inspire, educate, and challenge us. His exploration of gender and sexuality is just one aspect of his genius, but it is an important one that continues to shape our understanding of these complex issues. As we move forward into the future, we would do well to remember the lessons that Shakespeare has taught us and to continue to explore the rich and diverse world of human experience that he so vividly描绘.

No-fear Shakespeare!!

This is truly an amazing site. It presents the actual text of Shakespeare's works and a modern-day translation side by side. The link is -> http://nfs.sparknotes.com/

I'm not sure why I even began reading this when I was completely certain it would bore me to death. However, No Fear Shakespeare made the entire reading process phenomenally more tolerable. I have always had a greater liking for Shakespearean tragedies compared to his comedies (though comedy is my favorite genre in general). Understandably, Twelfth Night was not well received by me. Of course, one must consider that Shakespeare's plays are intended to be "seen" rather than "read". But still, just how boring can a piece of literature be? The answer is: VERY.

There were, however, a few scenes that managed to make me giggle, so I guess it wasn't all bad. I give it 2 stars.

2023 reread:

Our cast is truly fantastic, and I find myself eagerly anticipating the opportunity to bring this brilliant script to life. The pun on "understand" remains my absolute favorite element. Sir Toby and Maria personify raucous fun, while Feste showcases a razor-sharp wit. Malvolio's over-the-top dramatics have us all in stitches, laughing until we cry. Viola is charmingly earnest, and Olivia exudes regality. Here I am, four years later, still completely invested in the relationship between Sebastian and Antonio.

Original review, January 2019:

Excellent. And so delightfully clever with its puns! I wasn't quite expecting that (although I'm not sure why - after all, this is Shakespeare, the mastermind behind the HILARIOUS Act I of Romeo & Juliet). I mean, he actually made a pun on the word "understand". Who else could do that? It's truly amazing.

The resolution in Act 5 was neatly and efficiently tied up. Sidenote: It seems that W Shakes has a penchant for resolving things with double weddings - didn't the same occur in Much Ado, among other plays?

And despite being cast as the villain, I didn't observe a great deal of treachery in Malvolio. The guy simply appeared to have different priorities than the others, which, apparently, is a valid reason to be mocked tortured and whatnot.

I'm definitely shipping Sebastian/Antonio. Hopefully, Olivia won't mind when Sebastian smuggles his guy into the house.

I would have finished this much sooner if Michelle Obama hadn't made an appearance, but #NoRegrets.

The Fool's wordplay and the wordplay in general were outstanding. Well done, I say!

On the vast sea off the coast of Illyria, a terrible shipwreck occurs. Viola and a ship's Captain manage to be washed ashore. Sadly, Viola believes that her twin brother, Sebastian, has drowned. For the sake of safety, Viola decides to disguise herself as a young man and enters the service of the Duke of Orsino.

Orsino is deeply in love with the Countess Olivia, who is mourning the recent deaths of her father and brother. In honor of their memory, she has sworn to reject the company of men for seven years. However, when the disguised Viola delivers a love letter from Orsino to the Countess, something unexpected happens. The Countess falls in love with the "young man," and thus, a charming and complicated amorous imbroglio begins.

TWELFTH NIGHT contains all the elements one would expect in a romance. There is a shipwreck, disguises and mistaken identities, a young girl in distress, a convoluted plot with a series of intertwined love stories, the gulling of a fool, humor, wit, and the final recognition scene. It is a play that shows people trapped by their illusions, victims of deceit and their own folly. The characters seem unable to understand their own emotions, and it is significant to note that all the characters who are victims of deception learn nothing from the experience. They remain unchanged, self-indulgent egotists, easily shifting their "love" from one object to another.

TWELFTH NIGHT is a gay and lively play that explores how people often deceive themselves and the difficulty of truly acknowledging the truth about oneself. We may laugh at the deluded characters in this play, but it is also possible to see ourselves in them because deep down, we know that real self-awareness is not easy to achieve or maintain.

The Venn Diagram of Understanding Relationships in the Play

The yellow circle represents women, and the blue circle represents men. The square represents family relationships. The flash indicates who loves whom or who is loved by whom.

What's the story in Shakespeare's Twelfth Night? The best way I can describe it is by drawing this diagram. Because the love triangle and square illustrate the intensity of the ups and downs of the relationships in this story.

Twelfth Night is a play full of "excesses." There is a lot of self-shifting, a lot of questioning, a lot of (illusory) love, a lot of humor, and a lot of folly. Here, it seems that everything rebels to reveal its true nature.

Twelfth Night is about the wrong appearance. Both the appearance of people and the appearance of words. This is a concept that was also emphasized in Macbeth, and here it is examined with a comical gaze. Here, it is difficult to distinguish between men and women, the truth of words, and even to distinguish people from each other.

Reading it was a common but enjoyable experience. Listening to it increased the sense of comedy and made it more interesting. I think, however, that this play is one of those whose main attraction lies in seeing it. The chaos of the scenes and the switching between genders must be a sight to behold. Especially in Shakespeare's time when all the actors were men and women did not have the right to act, how strange and interesting it must have been to see a man playing a female role who was playing a male role.

You can download the book and its audio versions from here: Maede's Books

31/4/1403

From the most diverse Shakespearean shows!

A show that has brought human characteristics into writing with a satirical state.

Translation by Hamid Elyasi

Published in 1390

223 pages

The literary translation was difficult and in some cases, the connection was cut off. The connection with the characters was difficult and I only advanced with the plot of the story. It is better to also try another translation.

Comedies have never been my top choices among Shakespeare's works. However, this particular one was a rather enjoyable read for Yule.

It had a touch of silliness and nonsense, which actually made it quite fanciful and appealing to me. To be honest, Shakespeare is one of those things where I firmly believe that it is infinitely better experienced through performance rather than just reading, especially when it comes to the comedies.

I had to choose between Twelfth Night and A Winter's Tale, and I went with this one. I guess I'll save A Winter's Tale for next Yule and finally get around to reading the bloodbath that is Titus Andronicus.

Onwards! Let's see what other literary adventures await.

Score one for androgyny and desire.

"Twelfth Night" is like a captivating blend. It's as if "She’s The Man" with Amanda Bynes had a different start, beginning with a shipwreck. And instead of Channing Tatum being a soccer captain named Duke, he was an actual duke. Of course, this is just a fun comparison. In reality, the film is a modern retelling of Shakespeare's romantic comedy.

For those who are new to it, the story follows siblings Sebastian and Viola, who are separated by a storm. Viola disguises herself as a page boy in the service of Duke Orsino, who is in love with Olivia. But Viola loves Orsino, and Olivia loves Cesario, who is actually Viola. It might seem a bit complicated, but it's actually quite simple.

Now, throw in some comical subplots, like making Malvolio believe that Olivia is in love with him. And we have a proper sexy story. As Shakespeare said, “If music be the food of love, play on.” Let's proceed onward!

“Dost thou think, because thou art virtuous, there shall be no more cakes and ale?”

Bring on the cakes and don't spare the ales because this play is a riotous exploration of gender, disguises, and the roles we play. Shakespeare uses the act of disguising for multiple purposes. Viola's disguise as Cesario is a fascinating look at gender fluidity and queer desires, especially for a modern audience.

Vita Sackville-West, who would dress in men's clothing and go by the name Julian to escort her lover Violet around Paris, was inspired by this play. She named the protagonists of her novel "The Edwardians" Sebastian and Viola for this very reason.

“If this were play'd upon a stage now, I could condemn it as an improbable fiction.”

The act of taking on a disguise functions on several layers. It can be an acknowledgement of oneself in the form of a role, all the way to a metafictional level. Viola's response when asked if she is a comedian, “I am not that I play,” is a witty nod to her role as Cesario.

The idea of Viola playing a man is also subversive, as it challenges the notion that women's roles were often filled by men. And we also have Shakespeare showing us characters who are unwittingly playing a role, like Orsino's farcical language of love.

“Be not afraid of greatness. Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and others have greatness thrust upon them.”

"Twelfth Night" is a romcom of gender bending and love triangles, delivered in true Shakespearean style. It's a total delight that continues to captivate audiences with its wit, charm, and exploration of complex themes.

Well, phooey. I vividly remember having a greater fondness for this one.

Over the years, I'm certain I've watched and read "Twelfth Night" on multiple occasions. However, I just don't recall Duke Orsino coming across as such a psychopath before.

Generally speaking, I'm not overly keen on the comedies, nor the cross-dressing elements, or the love triangles. But Viola is a feisty gal, and Olivia is rather tolerable. Moreover, the whole “teasing Malvolio” aspect is quite entertaining – far better than the typical clowning sub-plot.

For some reason, though, Orsinio's obsessive longing for Olivia, despite her repeated albeit polite rejections, really irked me. And then, for Olivia, who has such a clear understanding of how obnoxious such harassment is in Duke Orsino, to turn around and fixate in the same creepy way on Viola/Cesario is rather bizarre.

But the crowning moment of ickiness is (and there is a spoiler ahead, but this is Shakespeare, so I don't really have to hide it, do I?) in Act 5. When the Duke, furious that Olivia loves Viola/Cesario, says he's going to kill her/him just to bug Olivia and Viola says that's just fine with her – whatever makes him happy. Ewww. I give it three stars despite the horrible ending because the previous four acts were pretty good.

A play that truly has the ability to come alive when it is staged, rather than just being read. Just like many of Shakespeare's comedies, there is an abundance of frivolity and crazy fun. However, beneath all of this light-heartedness, there are some darker themes at play.

These darker themes add depth and complexity to the seemingly simple and entertaining story. They make the audience think and reflect on deeper issues while still enjoying the humorous and lively moments on stage.

When a play is staged, the actors bring the characters to life, adding their own interpretations and nuances. The set design, lighting, and sound effects also contribute to creating a vivid and immersive experience for the audience.

In contrast, when reading a play, one can only imagine the scenes and characters in their mind. While reading can be a great way to understand the story and the language, it cannot compare to the magic and excitement of seeing a play performed live on stage.

A few years ago, I happened to read a review of a certain film that had just been released. I was quite certain that I would never watch it. I read the review almost carelessly while flicking through the arts section of the newspaper on a Saturday morning. Or perhaps I was clicking over The Age Home Page. The woman who penned the review commented that the film was based on Twelfth Night, which she regarded as the most ridiculous of Shakespeare's plays. She simply could not fathom how anyone could be bothered to reproduce this so-called nonsense of Shakespeare's, which was based on the rather unfunny humour of cross-dressing and confused sexuality. I promptly emailed Fiona the link with a comment along the lines of, "Look at what this stupid bitch has written."

Did I mention that this review was in The Age, that once-great newspaper? If anything symbolizes the tragic decline that newspaper has endured...

Anyway, I've been attempting to recall when I first saw Twelfth Night on television. My ex-wife and I were away for a rather naughty weekend, and it must have been before I started university for the first time - the Physics me. I think it was raining outside (we hadn't gone for the scenery, so the rain was immaterial), and the hotel room had a television. I lay on the bed in the wrong direction and flicked to channel two. There, Felicity Kendal appeared, hooded, on a beach - remarkably dry, all things considered - and I instantly fell madly and helplessly in love, first with her and then even more deeply in love with the play.

I adore everything about this play. I love all the obvious elements, like the boys falling in love with girls who are dressed as boys but are actually girls. I love the girls falling in love with 'youths' (even before that word became pejorative and male, as my daughter Fiona is now fond of telling me) who are really girls but end up married to girls who aren't actually girls but also not who they think they are but really the girl's brother... I love the perfectly controlled and yet perfectly understandable complexity and messiness of it all.

But most of all, I love that it isn't just a 'romantic comedy' - or perhaps I should place the emphasis on 'just' in that sentence. There are dark themes at play here that are anything but funny. Sir Toby may be Falstaff and the life of the party, but he is also a bastard who uses and abuses those around him without mercy or favour. He is a selfish, self-centred prick - pure and simple. And yet we love him, cheer him on, and are putty in his hands. He may be the sort of uncle that we all too often have to ask, "O, how came you so early by this 'lethargy'?" when we really mean, "How the hell can you possibly be so drunk this early in the morning?" But still, none of us hope that Malvolio will find him hiding out of sight when the letter is carefully left to be found - none of us hope that Malvolio will not be fooled by the letter.

All the same, at the end when Malvolio is released, how can one not feel dreadful for him when he says, "Madam, you had done me wrong, notorious wrong." When we realize that we have spent the play decidedly not standing in his shoes and now Shakespeare is going to make sure we are aware of just what that has meant for this fellow human being. Yes, he is still not a loveable character, but a fellow human nonetheless.

I took Fiona to see this play when she was about 8 - she is now around 18. It was a weeknight and a school night, and we both rushed up to the theatre at the Arts Centre and sat there transfixed. I'm sure both of us must have worried that this play would prove far beyond what she would be able to understand. I had built it up so much that when it started, I thought, "Oh god, I'll ruin Shakespeare for her for life." But at the end, when the actors had caught sight of her as the youngest in the audience and clearly made a point of catching her eye and were making a fuss of her from the stage, and it was also clear that she had understood all the complications that make the last moments of this play so hilariously funny as she was bursting into gales of uncontrollable laughter, I knew that this would be a moment we would both remember and cherish always. Quality time usually stems from quantity time, but sometimes it can be planned.

Years later - I think on my fortieth birthday - we went again to see a production of the play, this time with Fi, her sister, my parents, and my intellectually disabled older sister. And again, it proved to be a magical night.

That night, as we were coming out at interval, a woman in front of me turned to the young man she had brought with her to see the play and said, "Of course Malvolio is Italian for Bad Will." I was studying Italian at the time and thought, "Shit, of course it is. Why hadn't I realized that myself?" Such are the things directly under my nose that I so rarely see. I've never been terribly good at the obvious.

And I love the songs - particularly "O Mistress Mine" ("Youth's the stuff will not endure," and how true that has proven) - and I love the little jokes and Feste, yes, particularly Feste, who I still think has some of the best lines in the play.

And how could anyone not fall in love with someone who says that their preferred method of wooing you would be to,

"Make me a willow cabin at your gate,
And call upon my soul within the house,
Write loyal canton and contemned love,
And sing them loud even in the dead of night;
Holla your name to the reverberate hills,
And make the babbling gossip of the air
Cry out 'Olivia!' O, you should not rest
Between the elements of the air and earth,
But you should pity me"?

And the understatement of the century (17th, of course)

"Olivia: You might do much"

Too bloody right she/he might do much.

Two more things and then I'm done. The one is where the gardener, Fabian to his friends, waits until we are completely taken in and then slaps us awake with, "If this were played upon a stage now, I could condemn it as an improbable fiction." Now, what about that? How much courage would that take to write? If you ever needed proof that great writers are completely unconcerned about whether or not they have allowed you to'suspend disbelief,' I think you could hardly look further than this. Shakespeare is so certain we are on the edge of our seats that he knows he can laugh at us for being so completely sucked in, and we will still barely come up for air.

The other thing is this:

"Malvolio: By my life, this is my lady's hand: these be her very c's, her u's and her t's, and thus makes she her great P's. It is, in contempt of question, her hand.
Sir Andrew: Her c's, her u's and her t's, why that?"

For years, like Sir Andrew, I wondered why that was as well. One day, I even went to the local library and found a reference book that told me that although this was clearly a joke at the time, the mists that separate us from Will mean we will never know.

In a word: Bollocks.

It is hardly remarkable that we find the same things funny now as they did then - and sexual humour is sexual humour and, like a well-told fart joke, will always be funny. There was a film recently called "Into The Cut" that also used the word 'cut' as slang for female genitalia, and 'pee' is still slang for 'to urinate' - none of this is obscure at all. Fortunately, I was able to find a second book in the same library that had not been written in the 1950s and was not nearly so prudish or so reticent to explain what 'a cut' was. I'm a bit embarrassed that I needed it explained, but I cover it well.

When people ask me what my favourite play by Shakespeare is, I always hesitate. I mean, how could I possibly say this one when compared to the utter majesty of Lear or Hamlet? I must review Lear one of these days - no play is as likely to bring tears, no play so horrible and distressing or remarkable or devastatingly good. But the truth is that this play simply isn't the same thing as Lear - it seems strange to give them the same name 'play,' and really, they can't be compared. I love them both and possibly even equally - but for entirely different reasons. But it is love. Even the thought of this play makes me smile - it is a pure delight and all the confirmation one needs of the genius that is Shakespeare.

I've just composed yet another review for a more contemporary play. In it, I'm lamenting about how these modern plays are not crafted for reading but rather for watching.

Now, Shakespeare, in a way, seems to shatter that norm. I frequently relish the words on the page just as much, if not even more than when observing a stage performance.

However, when it comes to "Twelfth Night," I have the distinct feeling that it demands to be witnessed. There is an abundance of stage direction and subtleties that would be overlooked merely by reading, or at least they would be if one isn't well-versed in the story.

I opted to first watch a production of this play (the one with Mark Rylance at The Globe, which was absolutely brilliant). I knew that otherwise, I might become perplexed.

After coming back to the text, I came to the realization that I would have missed a great deal had I not seen it first. Moreover, I didn't find myself particularly enthralled by the language, as I had been with his other plays.

So, all things considered, it earns a modest 3 stars. And for a play, that's roughly equivalent to 4+ stars for a novel.