An elderly woman sighed to her friend, “I miss seeing Shakespeare plays, like those ‘Shakespeare in the Park’ summers.” Their exchange sparked memories of my enduring passion for all things Shakespeare.
Suddenly – as Shakespeare might say – my memories were green again, and I was back on the banks of the Avon River, thinking deeply about life. Years ago, when I was in England studying theater on a college scholarship, Stratford-upon-Avon was the center of the universe to me – especially the Swan Theatre.
Inspired by the original Swan Theatre in London (circa 1595), it’s a remake of a genuine Elizabethan playhouse. When I visited, it was the only one of its kind in England, and the fact that it was in the Bard’s birthplace imbued it with an aura of reverence. The reconstructed Globe Theatre in London, christened Shakespeare’s Globe, had not yet opened to the public.
As the women reminisced, my mind swirled with profound recollections of strolling through Shakespeare’s Birthplace, wandering the serene gardens of Anne Hathaway’s Cottage, and standing in the hallowed quiet of Holy Trinity Church. I too longed to see the Bard’s works again. It’s not that they aren’t staged, but I yearn for them as they were performed for nearly four centuries–alive with the raw, timeless spirit of the Elizabethan age.
Stirred by such memories, I couldn’t help but bristle at modern twists on the Bard’s work. As a traditionalist, I cherish the timeless authenticity of Elizabethan staging, though I recognize that fringe adaptations—like Sarah Bernhardt’s groundbreaking Hamlet in 1899—have always existed. Yet it’s the more radical departures from Shakespearian orthodoxy that I find not only hard to embrace, but downright blasphemous. (Let’s acknowledge, then set aside, the theatrical convention of Shakespeare’s time where young boys, would play female roles primarily because women were not allowed to perform on stage.)
Present-day Shakespearian performances, like Wagner opera’s at Bayreuth, have become a free-for-all for every maverick producer, director or actor desperate to be lauded as “groundbreaking,” “cutting edge” or “visionary.”
Obviously, Shakespeare’s works are in the public domain, so theater companies can do whatever they want with them; but that doesn’t mean they should. Take a recent production of “Much Ado About Nothing” which just concluded it’s run through New York’s five boroughs. Performed in “Shakespearean Spanglish,” one reviewer described it as “half Shakespearean English and half New York City Spanish—the vernacular of Corona, Sunset Park, and a dozen other neighborhoods in our city.” Adding insult to injury, it was reimagined as a musical by a composer who specializes in creating multilingual plays and musicals. The results left one critic lamenting that, “Linguistically, it’s like two rowers in a canoe furiously paddling in two different directions.”
The costumes were a mishmash of era and style, with some of the uniforms strangely resembling the flag of the European Union.
Ultimately, I support entertainment inspired by Shakespeare, but it should not be presented to audiences as the authentic artistic masterpiece he created. I am convinced that recent generations have only seen his plays through the eyes of modern mavericks who have little use–or respect–for the “stale” originals. The desire to reshape Shakespeare’s legacy extends beyond the stage, with his image often being twisted to fit contemporary cultural and political agendas.
In 1999, for example, the Borders book store in my local mall hung a huge portrait of the English playwright in their front window to celebrate President Bill Clinton’s newly declared, “Gay and Lesbian Pride Month.” As scholars continue to argue against applying modern sexual identities to Renaissance literature, the now-defunct bookstore eventually stopped using Shakespeare as a symbol for gay America.
And while discussions about racial themes in works, like “Othello” and “The Merchant of Venice,” have been ongoing for years, it wasn’t until the 21st Century that terms like “racist” and “sexist” began to stick.
The Oxford University Press tells us that “In 2016, undergraduate English majors at Yale University petitioned to eliminate the monopoly of “white male poets” (including Shakespeare) in a compulsory introductory course.” Ultimately, this forced the university to offer an alternative course so students could graduate without learning anything about Shakespeare, Chaucer, or any other white male European writer that could “actively harm” a student. The “decolonizing” of Shakespeare had officially begun.
By early 2025, the Shakespeare Birthplace Trust wholeheartedly embraced the results of their own research project–conducted between the Trust and Dr. Helen Hopkins of the University of Birmingham. The report found Shakespeare to be a symbol of “British cultural superiority” and “Anglo-cultural supremacy.” All of this being part of the “West-centric” worldview that continues to “harm” the world today. The word “harm” seems to be a common linchpin used by decolonization advocates to justify their demand for change.
We could look the other way and hope for the best, but when one considers that the Trust is in possession of countless archival items which form the tapestry of Western thought, culture, and achievement, it demands our attention.
Who knows what blue-haired social justice warriors are sifting through those artifacts right now, impulsively disappearing whatever “racist, sexist, homophobic or otherwise harmful” items they choose?
British TV personality and journalist Nana Akua said it best: “Shock! Horror! Englishman who’s a white male writes about English experience, becomes a global learning tool for over 500 years and gets cancelled by snowflakes.”
Writer Matt Manochio, writing for the National Association of Scholars summer quarterly Academic Questions, imagined the ghost of Shakespeare responding to recent developments:
“Many a critic doth perceive history as a tale that commenceth with the day of their own birth, deeming all that came before as unworthy of study and destined for ruin. These zealous souls dost vandalize statues and, shamefully, dost rewrite superior works (alas, poor Roald Dahl) to conform to their own sense of moral grander. Who hath died and made them sovereign?”
While Manochio’s artfully constructed article, Shakespeare Cometh, was meant to bring levity to the subject, it also serves as legitimate critique.
Many years ago, as Holy Trinity Church was getting ready to close, I asked the elderly caretaker if I could still sneak a tour. My schedule was tight. “I’m from America, I might not get another chance,” I pleaded. In a desperate, yet silly gesture, I offered him one gold sovereign. He laughed at me. “Go on in miss and take your time. I’ve got no place to go anyway. But you’ll have to go in through the kitchen cuz I’ve locked the other doors.” Shakespeare and I had some long overdue quiet time together.
Inspired by Matt Manochio, and with the help of artificial intelligence, I shall conclude my writing thusly:
Yea, verily, my heart doth long to gaze upon a play of Master Shakespeare’s quill once more—a true and unstained spectacle of Elizabethan pomp, with players garbed in seemly attire of the age, swords ringing in fierce clamour, court jesters prancing with merry jests, and all the grand flourish of that storied stage. Fain, would I behold it yet again, before it fades forever into the shadows of rewritten history.
An elderly woman sighed to her friend, “I miss seeing Shakespeare plays, like those ‘Shakespeare in the Park’ summers.” Their exchange sparked memories of my enduring passion for all things Shakespeare.
Suddenly – as Shakespeare might say – my memories were green again, and I was back on the banks of the Avon River, thinking deeply about life. Years ago, when I was in England studying theater on a college scholarship, Stratford-upon-Avon was the center of the universe to me – especially the Swan Theatre.
Inspired by the original Swan Theatre in London (circa 1595), it’s a remake of a genuine Elizabethan playhouse. When I visited, it was the only one of its kind in England, and the fact that it was in the Bard’s birthplace imbued it with an aura of reverence. The reconstructed Globe Theatre in London, christened Shakespeare’s Globe, had not yet opened to the public.
As the women reminisced, my mind swirled with profound recollections of strolling through Shakespeare’s Birthplace, wandering the serene gardens of Anne Hathaway’s Cottage, and standing in the hallowed quiet of Holy Trinity Church. I too longed to see the Bard’s works again. It’s not that they aren’t staged, but I yearn for them as they were performed for nearly four centuries–alive with the raw, timeless spirit of the Elizabethan age.
Stirred by such memories, I couldn’t help but bristle at modern twists on the Bard’s work. As a traditionalist, I cherish the timeless authenticity of Elizabethan staging, though I recognize that fringe adaptations—like Sarah Bernhardt’s groundbreaking Hamlet in 1899—have always existed. Yet it’s the more radical departures from Shakespearian orthodoxy that I find not only hard to embrace, but downright blasphemous. (Let’s acknowledge, then set aside, the theatrical convention of Shakespeare’s time where young boys, would play female roles primarily because women were not allowed to perform on stage.)
Present-day Shakespearian performances, like Wagner opera’s at Bayreuth, have become a free-for-all for every maverick producer, director or actor desperate to be lauded as “groundbreaking,” “cutting edge” or “visionary.”
Obviously, Shakespeare’s works are in the public domain, so theater companies can do whatever they want with them; but that doesn’t mean they should. Take a recent production of “Much Ado About Nothing” which just concluded it’s run through New York’s five boroughs. Performed in “Shakespearean Spanglish,” one reviewer described it as “half Shakespearean English and half New York City Spanish—the vernacular of Corona, Sunset Park, and a dozen other neighborhoods in our city.” Adding insult to injury, it was reimagined as a musical by a composer who specializes in creating multilingual plays and musicals. The results left one critic lamenting that, “Linguistically, it’s like two rowers in a canoe furiously paddling in two different directions.”
The costumes were a mishmash of era and style, with some of the uniforms strangely resembling the flag of the European Union.
Ultimately, I support entertainment inspired by Shakespeare, but it should not be presented to audiences as the authentic artistic masterpiece he created. I am convinced that recent generations have only seen his plays through the eyes of modern mavericks who have little use–or respect–for the “stale” originals. The desire to reshape Shakespeare’s legacy extends beyond the stage, with his image often being twisted to fit contemporary cultural and political agendas.
In 1999, for example, the Borders book store in my local mall hung a huge portrait of the English playwright in their front window to celebrate President Bill Clinton’s newly declared, “Gay and Lesbian Pride Month.” As scholars continue to argue against applying modern sexual identities to Renaissance literature, the now-defunct bookstore eventually stopped using Shakespeare as a symbol for gay America.
And while discussions about racial themes in works, like “Othello” and “The Merchant of Venice,” have been ongoing for years, it wasn’t until the 21st Century that terms like “racist” and “sexist” began to stick.
The Oxford University Press tells us that “In 2016, undergraduate English majors at Yale University petitioned to eliminate the monopoly of “white male poets” (including Shakespeare) in a compulsory introductory course.” Ultimately, this forced the university to offer an alternative course so students could graduate without learning anything about Shakespeare, Chaucer, or any other white male European writer that could “actively harm” a student. The “decolonizing” of Shakespeare had officially begun.
By early 2025, the Shakespeare Birthplace Trust wholeheartedly embraced the results of their own research project–conducted between the Trust and Dr. Helen Hopkins of the University of Birmingham. The report found Shakespeare to be a symbol of “British cultural superiority” and “Anglo-cultural supremacy.” All of this being part of the “West-centric” worldview that continues to “harm” the world today. The word “harm” seems to be a common linchpin used by decolonization advocates to justify their demand for change.
We could look the other way and hope for the best, but when one considers that the Trust is in possession of countless archival items which form the tapestry of Western thought, culture, and achievement, it demands our attention.
Who knows what blue-haired social justice warriors are sifting through those artifacts right now, impulsively disappearing whatever “racist, sexist, homophobic or otherwise harmful” items they choose?
British TV personality and journalist Nana Akua said it best: “Shock! Horror! Englishman who’s a white male writes about English experience, becomes a global learning tool for over 500 years and gets cancelled by snowflakes.”
Writer Matt Manochio, writing for the National Association of Scholars summer quarterly Academic Questions, imagined the ghost of Shakespeare responding to recent developments:
“Many a critic doth perceive history as a tale that commenceth with the day of their own birth, deeming all that came before as unworthy of study and destined for ruin. These zealous souls dost vandalize statues and, shamefully, dost rewrite superior works (alas, poor Roald Dahl) to conform to their own sense of moral grander. Who hath died and made them sovereign?”
While Manochio’s artfully constructed article, Shakespeare Cometh, was meant to bring levity to the subject, it also serves as legitimate critique.
Many years ago, as Holy Trinity Church was getting ready to close, I asked the elderly caretaker if I could still sneak a tour. My schedule was tight. “I’m from America, I might not get another chance,” I pleaded. In a desperate, yet silly gesture, I offered him one gold sovereign. He laughed at me. “Go on in miss and take your time. I’ve got no place to go anyway. But you’ll have to go in through the kitchen cuz I’ve locked the other doors.” Shakespeare and I had some long overdue quiet time together.
Inspired by Matt Manochio, and with the help of artificial intelligence, I shall conclude my writing thusly:
Yea, verily, my heart doth long to gaze upon a play of Master Shakespeare’s quill once more—a true and unstained spectacle of Elizabethan pomp, with players garbed in seemly attire of the age, swords ringing in fierce clamour, court jesters prancing with merry jests, and all the grand flourish of that storied stage. Fain, would I behold it yet again, before it fades forever into the shadows of rewritten history.
Originally published in The Epoch Times:
