“Shakespeare’s Nightmare before Christmas”
For a playwright that so
often dramatizes revelry and mirth throughout his career, Shakespeare seldom
references Christmas. The somewhat tense religious climate of early modern England
perhaps explains why overt and detailed references to it are seemingly absent
of his dramaturgy, yet winter holds a considerably important position. December
itself usually signifies the darkness and the cold gloomy atmosphere of winter
and functions as a de facto antithesis to springtime merriment and
rejuvenation. Hence, Polixenes praises his son by asserting that he “makes a
July's day short as December” (The Winter’s Tale I, ii) while
Arviragus characterizes old age in Cymbeline as the time “when we shall
hear / The rain and wind beat dark December” (III, iii.). Even less festive is Rosalind’s
warning to Orlando that “Men are / April when they woo, December when they wed”
(As You Like It (Iv, i.). The cycle of the seasons holds considerable
metaphorical importance in Shakespeare, and the month of December, representing
the end of the year and the darkest month of the calendar, lends itself well to
this type of imagery.
Not exactly Yule tide fun …
Christmas itself appears even more sparingly. When it does, however,
it is associated usually with a performative type of festivity that channels
theater. In the Induction to The Taming of the Shrew, upon hearing that players
are set to perform for him, Sly wonders whether the play he is about to witness
is “a comontie, a Christmas gambold or a tumbling-trick?” (Induction II). Likewise,
upon discovering the jest that the princess and her attending women played on
him and his fellow Lords in Love’s Labor’s Lost, Biron declares that “here
was a consent, / Knowing aforehand of our merriment, / To dash it like a
Christmas comedy” (V, ii). As a period conducive to legally-sanctioned revels,
the Christmas season proved an ideal conduit for theatrical performances. The
most obvious example in Shakespeare is of course Twelfth Night, whose
title refers to the culmination of Christmas celebration on January 5th
(the twelve days of Christmas). The play praises merriment and games
throughout, but does so with an apprehensive undercurrent of the bitter sweet return
to reality that inevitably follows.[1]
So it would seem that Christmas does not loom large in Shakespeare,
but ends up folded into broader considerations of seasonal time progression and
the emotional ambivalence that accompanies festivity. From a modern standpoint,
many of Shakespeare’s plays seem akin to traditional holiday folklore, whether it
be ghost stories, cold winter nights, or lavish feasting. Above all, the
emphasis on forgiveness and redemption that characterizes late plays such as The
Winter’s Tale or The Tempest fits right into what we think of as a Christmas
story, the Dickens of the Jimmy Stewart kind.[2] In
the dark, cold December, we need a certain amount of cheering up and rejoicing.
A sad tale might best for winter, as Mamillius tells his mother in The
Winter’s Tale, but it is best enjoyed at some distance, preferably indoors next
to a fireplace.
RANDOM EXCITEMENT OF THE WEEK:
‘Tis the season, and if you’re looking to innovate on a holiday tradition,
here is a list of renaissance-inspired carols to sing around the fire:
“O, drink all ye Falstaff”
“I saw mommy kissing Claudius”
“Do you see what I see? A Dagger!”
“Meat pies roasting on an open fire (made with suspiciously rare meat)”
“It’s beginning to look at lot like a civil uprising” (The 2H6 choir)
“Little cross-dressed boy”
“It’s the most wonderful time of the year (minus the plague
visitation)”
“Do you see what I see? A Dagger!” (Cover by Chris Marlowe, Christmas live in
Deptford)
“Do they know it’s Iago?”
“All I want for Christmas is
to be a better playwright” (The Ben Jonson Holiday spectacular)
“I’m dreaming of a coat of arms”
“Winter Wonderland”
(featuring the Bear)
RANDOM SMOOSHY FACE OF THE WEEK:
Meagyn Kelly,[3] a
journalist of your repute should know by now that Santa Clause is a Time Lord,
and just because that makes you uncomfortable, does not mean it should change.
RANDOM SHOUT OUT:
Having just audited a seminar on the influence of Spanish literature
in early modern drama, I would recommend checking out some of John Fletcher’s
plays. While he’s no Shakespeare, Fletcher’s drama is great fun to read. For one
thing, his comic pacing is hard to match, and the texts, while they fall short
of Shakespeare’s poetic mastery, display incredible adaptive skills. Plays like
The Chances, Women Pleased, or The Humorous Lieutenant (co-written
with Francis Beaumont)[4] hold
their own against most of the early modern comedic output. Consider this an
early holiday gift to my former supervisor: John Fletcher’s plays are great and
cauliflower can be purple at times.
That’s it for now. The virtually whirligig is taking a holiday
break, but will return in January whether you like it or not! Hope you enjoyed!
If you prick us, do we not bleed?
Ouch! It was rhetorical, dumbass…
Where did you even get that carving fork?
[1] A modern
equivalent would be waking up on a kitchen nook Jan 1st, unsure of
where to retrieve your pants.
[2] Instead
of pursing Bohemian lords, during today’s holiday season, bears usually pal
around with penguins and drink coca cola.
[3]
All right, who forgot a “y” in the middle of Meagan Kelly’s name? Who’s missing
a “y”? Is it you Holl Hunter? George Cloone? Anybody missing a “y”? Where the
heck is Maa Angelou where you need her?
[4] Think of the Fletcher and Beaumont connection as the Renaissance
equivalent of the partnership between Matt Damon and Ben Affleck, where
Fletcher only gets better with age,
producing increasingly complex and rewarding work, while Beaumont boozes around
London for a while before growing a critically-acclaimed beard and catching
flack for being cast as Batman-upon-Bartholomew (zing!).
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