Shakespeare References in God Is Not Great

Christopher Hitchens’ God Is Not Great: How Religion Poisons Everything contains several Shakespeare references. The first couple are to Shakespeare himself. Hitchens writes, “We are not immune to the lure of wonder and mystery and awe: we have music and art and literature, and find that serious ethical dilemmas are better handled by Shakespeare and Tolstoy and Schiller and Dostoyevsky and George Eliot than in the mythical morality tales of the holy books” (p. 5).And then: “The next time I got married, which was by a Reform Jewish rabbi with an Einsteinian and Shakespearean bent, I had something a little more in common with the officiating person” (p. 16). A little later, he refers to King Lear: “Nothing optional – from homosexuality to adultery – is ever made punishable unless those who do the prohibiting (and exact the fierce punishments) have a repressed desire to participate. As Shakespeare put it in King Lear, the policeman who lashes the whore has a hot need to use her for the very offense for which he plies the lash” (p. 40). The book also contains a couple of references to Hamlet. Hitchens writes, “Ever since they were forced to take part in this argument, which they were with great reluctance, the religious have tried to echo Hamlet’s admonition to Horatio that there are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamed of by mere humans” (p. 80). And then: “‘What a piece of work is a man!’ as Hamlet exclaims, before going on to contradict himself somewhat by describing the result as a ‘quintessence of dust’; both statements having the merit of being true” (p. 85). He then mentions Shakespeare again: “It does not matter to me whether Homer was one person or many, or whether Shakespeare was a secret Catholic or a closet agnostic. I should not feel my own world destroyed if the greatest writer about love and tragedy and comedy and morals was finally revealed to have been the Earl of Oxford all along, though I must add that sole authorship is important to me and I would be saddened and diminished to learn that Bacon had been the man. Shakespeare has much more moral salience than the Talmud or the Koran or any account of the fearful squabbles of Iron Age tribes” (pages 150-151).

God Is Not Great: How Religion Poisons Everything was published in 2007. The copy I read (from the library) was published in 2009, and included a new afterword.

Shakespeare Study: Interesting Books Related To Hamlet

I suppose the two plays I return to the most often are King Lear and Hamlet. There is so much within each of those plays. However, this time I read books that were related to Hamlet without actually reading an edition of the play. Hamnet was a book that was highly recommended to me, and I was eager to get a copy. Soon after I received the recommendation, my girlfriend called me to say she picked up a copy for me. Before I’d finished reading it, we learned that a new book store had opened near us, and of course I immediately went to the Shakespeare section, where I found a copy of a book on Hamlet’s soliloquies. The third book I had had for a while, and this seemed the perfect time to dive into it.

Hamnet: A Novel Of The Plague by Maggie O’Farrell – This wonderful novel presents events both in the time of the plague, when Shakespeare’s son Hamnet died, which is the present time of the story, and the time from when William Shakespeare (who is never mentioned by name) met the woman he would marry, who is called Agnes rather than Anne. The author clearly knows her Shakespeare and her history, and we get the sense of that in some of the details she provides. She gives a different reason for William’s move to London, while playfully nodding to some of the notions put forward for his leaving Stratford-upon-Avon: “he is leaving for London because of some kind of disgrace” (p. 176). And she creates a plausible way that William became introduced to the theatre. The book also offers an explanation for that rather odd item in Shakespeare’s will. There are quoted passages from Hamlet at the beginning of both sections of this novel. And Agnes tells Judith, “No, my love, he will never come again” (p. 227), reminding us of Ophelia when she says, “He never will come again.” There is also a little nod to Macbeth, when William asks, “What if I fail?” and his wife replies, “Fail?” (p. 179). Before the end of the book, there is a performance of Shakespeare’s new play, Hamlet. This book was published in 2020.

Modern Hamlets & Their Soliloquies: An Expanded Edition by Mary Z. Maher – This fascinating book takes a look at how different actors handled the role of Hamlet, with a focus on their approach to the soliloquies. In the introduction, Maher writes: “Also, an actor is most convincing in delivering direct-address soliloquies if he has not developed close relationships with the other characters onstage, notably Horatio or Ophelia; thus it is logical for him to find support off the stage, with the theatre audience. Playing more humor in Hamlet’s overall character conception aids an actor when he decides to speak to the audience. The wit of the character persuades spectators to be receptive to his direct-address speeches” (p. xxvi). Regarding why the seventh soliloquy was traditionally cut, Maher writes: “After a series of brutal invasions of countries in the mid-twentieth century, Fortinbras took on the cast of a tyrant, and Hamlet, by identifying with him, would have been drawing inspiration from a marauder or despot. The performance meaning of the seventh soliloquy has changed over time in response to historical events” (p. xxvii). In the chapter on John Gielgud, Maher writes, “After World War II and Vietnam, it would become less and less popular to find inspiration in Fortinbras, and, in fact, his portrayal on the stage would become more and more brutal and dictatorial” (p. 14). In the chapter on David Warner, Maher writes: “Despite the closeness of sitting side by side throughout the proceedings, Warner showed unconcealed rancor toward the king and queen by literally shouting what is usually played as an aside, ‘A little more than kin, and less than kind’ (I.ii.65) at them” (p. 53). In that same chapter, regarding the first soliloquy, Maher writes: “Warner’s intention here was to finally express the bottled anger that had accumulated throughout the council scene. He did not use the soliloquy to bond with the audience, slowing down and wooing them with eye contact; he rather assumed their collusion and let off steam. The character established was a rebellious prince who did not respect authority” (p. 54). In the chapter on Ben Kingsley, Maher writes: “Kingsley overplayed the Pyrrhus speech to bait Polonius, who, of course, thought it very accomplished. Then the Player King, Bob Peck, completed the speech in a beautifully naturalistic and convincing way, crying at the end because he was so overwhelmed by the poetry of it. This choice helped to motivate Kingsley’s profound anger at himself in the forthcoming soliloquy” (p. 78). In that same chapter, Maher quotes Ben Kingsley, regarding the final soliloquy: “He came from the first soliloquy, where he said, ‘I cannot do it’ to here – now he’s controlling the play. Before, he’d been left alone on the stage and he’d panicked, he wanted to melt away, but now he asks others to leave the play because he wants a soliloquy. It is a very great journey from being terrified of being left alone to saying, I want to be left alone” (p. 88). In the chapter on David Rintoul, Maher quotes Rintoul: “Notice, by the way, how very few of the lines in any of Hamlet’s soliloquies are end-stopped: thoughts sweep on to the next lines, reinforcing his emotional and intellectual quickness” (p. 143). In the chapter on Kevin Kline, regarding Kline’s delivery of the first soliloquy, Maher writes: “Thus, the audience’s initial introduction was to a prince not rebellious or flippant but enmeshed in deepest grief. He then moved from melancholy to stunned anger” (p. 187). In that same chapter, Maher writes, “The short questions ‘Am I a coward?/Who calls me villain?’ were addressed to the imaginary audience of courtiers that would soon, in the play-within-the-play scene, surround the platform stage, but never to the ‘real’ audience in the Public/Anspacher Theater” (p. 189). Also in that chapter, Maher writes, “At a certain point in the performances, Diane Venora began to signal to Hamlet after ‘Are you honest?’ that there were observers behind the arras” (p. 192). In the Kenneth Branagh chapter, Maher quotes Branagh: “What struck us in filming was that no one got a decent funeral in the play – something that Laertes bemoaned later on for the lack of ostentation in his own family’s deaths. The requirement for a period of grieving (never mind the specifics of Hamlet’s particular circumstances), to fairly and squarely acknowledge and mourn the departure of a loved one, involved time, certainly more time than ‘A little month.’ The play seemed to cry out for that” (p. 207). And then in the next chapter, Maher quotes Simon Russell Beale: “Since his mother behaved badly, he assumes that is how all women behave. I don’t think he can have a decent human relationship once his father has given him the commission to kill Claudius. After that, all human relationships are gone, including the one with Horatio, which has been a remote relationship anyway, a gentlemanly one, not a fully fledged one. In a way, he’s got to get rid of Ophelia because he realizes that, consciously or unconsciously, she will be destroyed along with him” (p. 233). This book was published in 2003.

The Mystery Of Hamlet King Of Denmark Or What We Will by Percy Mackaye – This book contains four plays that lead up to the beginning of Shakespeare’s Hamlet, focusing on Hamlet’s father and uncle, and gives an account of what might have happened to Yorick and other characters along the way. Some of it is really quite interesting, and some of it doesn’t quite work with the text that Shakespeare has given us. It opens in a way similar to Shakespeare’s play. And in the prologue, King Hamlet is shown a scene from Hamlet, the scene where the Ghost shows himself to Hamlet. But that means that King Hamlet knows that his brother will murder him, which is odd. There are little nods to lines from Shakespeare’s play throughout this book. For example, King Hamlet says, “You are a woman, Gertrude,/And woman’s mind is frail” (p. 29), which reminds us of Hamlet’s line, “frailty, thy name is woman.” And a character called Gallucinius says, “Till all of Elsinore is dumb – and all/The rest is silence?” (p. 70). And there is this too: “Which shall it/Be, or not be?” (p. 128). Horatio is there, aged ten or so, telling King Hamlet of the prince playing with Yorick, which doesn’t work with two lines of Shakespeare’s play. The first is Horatio’s line to Hamlet, about Hamlet’s father, “I saw him once. He was a goodly king.” It doesn’t make sense if Horatio was around the king a good deal. Horatio is even listed as “aide to the King” (p. 297) in the third play of the book. The second is Hamlet’s line to Horatio, about Yorick, “I knew him, Horatio.” Hamlet wouldn’t say that if Horatio was there, if Horatio knew him too.  So it makes no sense for Horatio to be around Hamlet at so young an age. There is also a playful duel between Hamlet and Laertes when they’re children, which is just silly. And Laertes actually says, regarding the wooden swords they use, “This is too heavy; let me see another” (p. 135). And later Hamlet and Laertes argue at Yorick’s grave, over who loved him more, as they would do at Ophelia’s grave. This is ridiculous and forced. Also, young Prince Hamlet says, “And mighty Rome, and Julius Caesar’s death/Polonius taught us, because he acted it/At the university” (p. 155). So Hamlet already knew about that, and Polonius already knew that Hamlet knew? It just doesn’t make sense. Stuff like that made me frustrated with this book. On the other hand, there is some wonderful stuff about Gertrude’s connection to Ophelia. Gertrude is the one to name her, the name having come to her in a dream. Ophelia’s mother dies after giving birth, and interestingly even just after Ophelia’s birth, Gertrude imagines the girl will one day be with Hamlet. The book also makes clear Claudius and Gertrude’s relationship, and how their interest began before King Hamlet is murdered. It also establishes that there actually is a poisonous snake in King Hamlet’s garden. The book also contains a little nod to Caliban from The Tempest, and another nod to that play when Prince Hamlet says, “For I have dreamed thee, too. We are such stuff/As dreams are made on, and our little life/Is rounded with a sleep” (p. 520), Prospero’s words. Another thing that doesn’t feel right is that Hamlet and Horatio travel back to Denmark together while King Hamlet is still alive. Why would Hamlet be surprised then to see Horatio? Also, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern arrive, which makes no sense, as they also arrive in Hamlet, at the bidding of Claudius. King Hamlet goes a little mad in this story, which is interesting. Another thing that is odd in this telling is that Prince Hamlet does not want the throne, and is happy at hearing Claudius will rule, for he feels free then to be with Ophelia. Gertrude seems to wed Claudius right away, so not even a month passes after her husband’s death. The book ends with Act I Scene ii of Hamlet, but Claudius’ lines about Wittenberg are cut, as is Gertrude’s line “I pray thee, stay with us. Go not to Wittenberg.” This book was published in 1950.

Twelfth Night (Antaeus Theatre Company’s 2025 Production) Theatre Review

The Antaeus Theatre Company’s new production of Twelfth Night, which opened this weekend, presents a fresh look at the characters and story of Shakespeare’s beloved comedy. Directed by Armin Shimerman, this production finds the characters somewhat older than they are usually portrayed, and as we know with age comes some (at least we hope) wisdom and certainly a good deal of pain, and that is reflected in the performances. The desires, however, remain the same, especially for love, though the chances might be, or at least feel, diminished. And that is why Sir Andrew’s line “I was ador’d once too” can be so heartbreaking. Perhaps for him love exists only in the past. If this sounds like a downer, don’t worry, the play is still a comedy and elicits a great deal of laughter. But it might have you thinking about the characters a bit more than usual on your way out of the theatre, and that is certainly not a bad thing.

Often the first two scenes of the play are presented in reversed order, but this production does something interesting. After a moment of Feste (John Allee) at the piano playing a song of melancholy, the action begins with the second scene; that is, with Viola (Liza Seneca) having reached shore and asking, “What country, friends, is this?” She is wrapped in a blanket, still cold from the water. This happens center stage, the playing space divided into three sections: an interior setting with an upright piano on stage right, a patio setting stage left, and stairs leading to a dock upstage center. All of it, by the way, has a pleasant vibe. Then, after Viola’s line “Orsino. I have heard my father name him,” she and the others center stage freeze, and the action continues stage right with that very Orsino (David DeSantos) delivering what is the first line of the text, that wonderful and famous line, “If music be the food of love, play on.” And Feste does so, at least until Orsino tells him to stop, one of the many funny moments of the scene. After the line “Ere since pursue me,” the action returns to Viola, who repeats her line about having heard the name Orsino, and the scene continues from there. Then when Olivia is mentioned, the action center stage is again frozen, and we are introduced to Olivia, in her veil, stage left. There is no dialogue there, but it is a way to introduce the other main player of that triangle all within the first few moments of the performance, and to make clear who each of them is. And with a bit of stage magic, Viola quickly becomes Cesario, putting on a mustache, and then being able to step straight into the fourth scene, when Orsino calls for him (her). All of this works to pull the audience quickly into the world and action of the play.

The production then moves back to the third scene, introducing Toby (Rob Nagle), Maria (Kitty Swink) and Sir Andrew (Alberto Isaac), and we get the sense that this is happening simultaneously with the action between Orsino and Cesario. Toby is delightful as he retrieves flasks hidden in his boots and various spots around the set on lines like “With drinking healths to my niece.” We immediately align ourselves with him, for who in these ugly days of our nation doesn’t want to drink himself into a stupor? This production’s Andrew might be the shortest I’ve seen, giving Toby’s line “He’s as tall a man as any’s in Illyria” more of a teasing quality than it normally has. Usually, that line is delivered as perhaps the only true compliment that can be given that character, though still playing on the word’s other meaning of “brave”; here, Toby can’t even give him that. And before the scene is over, Toby has picked poor Andrew’s pocket. Meanwhile, Orsino is instructing Cesario on how to woo Olivia on his behalf. On his line about Cesario’s small pipe, Orsino takes hold of Viola’s throat, and we sense she might swoon, the action intimate in an unexpected way. Yet we can’t help but think of the implied violence of the action, which is fitting for some of Orsino’s later lines.

Olivia (Veralyn Jones, who played Gertrude in the theatre’s excellent 2022 production of Hamlet) comes across as a no-nonsense sort of person when we first meet her. Her dry delivery of “Take the fool away” is hilarious. And if Olivia is a no-nonsense person, Malvolio (Joel Swetow) seems to take that quality to an extreme. He is so serious, so somber, in his stance, disposition and expression. He seems ready, perhaps eager, to remove Feste by hand if necessary. It isn’t until Olivia’s “Can you do it?” (here delivered as “Can you? Do it”) that he steps away from Feste and returns to her side. Malvolio’s angry expression when Feste tells Olivia that her brother’s soul is in hell is perfect. He has not yet spoken a word, yet has expressed so much. When Maria tells Olivia of Cesario’s presence at the gate, she stresses “young” in both sentences the word appears, making that seem the person’s most important quality to her, and perhaps to Olivia too. Age certainly is a factor in this production. When Olivia removes her veil and says “such a one I was,” the word “was” stands out. Yet Olivia has a decidedly youthful energy when asking if Cesario likes what he sees, clearly needing a compliment. Another thing that is interesting is that in Olivia’s presence it is not just Malvolio who has a somber countenance and bearing, but Maria too. We see it when she takes the pages from Cesario, looks them over and tosses them to the floor. She takes her position as seriously as Malvolio does. The two have a similar stature, as well.

Both Liza Seneca and Veralyn Jones are excellent in that scene where Viola and Olivia first meet. As Viola says what she’d do in Orsino’s place, it is clear she is thinking of Orsino and what she herself would like to do. She is wonderful as she gets carried away. And Olivia is equally wonderful as she misreads Viola’s excitement. She is particularly good as she realizes her own attraction to Cesario, as she works it out in that speech alone on stage, and is surprised at discovering her attraction. Veralyn Jones makes us feel for Olivia, even to the point where we wish she weren’t deceived. And as the play continues, we feel for her more. That moment when she asks Cesario what he thinks of her carries with it a sad desperation, one which she likely didn’t have in younger days. Interestingly, she touches Cesario’s neck, but Viola’s reaction is the opposite of what it was when Orsino touched the same spot. But Olivia is determinedly blind to it, and she is nearly giddy later when she says she has sent for him and that he agreed to come.

There is a sense of melancholy in this production, part of which might be due the characters being older and having not yet attained what they might have wished. So when Feste sings the line “Youth’s a stuff will not endure,” it has more weight than usual. We see how the line hits both Toby and Andrew, affecting them for at least a moment. And maybe that is why they both feel a desire, a need, to join Feste in a brighter song, to overcome that mood. The three sing “Hold Thy Peace” in a round, and not only that, but get the audience singing too. It’s a joyous and fun moment, with Toby and Andrew on tambourines as well. When it is interrupted, Toby becomes furious. His delivery of “Am I not of her blood” has anger and power, and is actually quite moving, for here we get an idea of how he sees himself, and it’s not all playfulness. It’s an excellent moment in an outstanding performance. It’s really Maria who brings the sense of fun back to these characters as the idea of Malvolio’s gulling occurs to her. One thing that’s especially wonderful here is that she seems to be doing it, at least in part, because of a need she perceives in Toby for such a thing. She truly does care for him. And the two even kiss. After Andrew’s “I was ador’d once too,” a tear threatens to drop from his eye. We feel for the characters more in this production.

Perhaps we feel for Malvolio a little earlier than we should. Leading up to his gulling, Toby, Feste and Andrew take up positions among the audience, Andrew on one side, Toby and Feste on the other. That gives Malvolio the entire stage to himself, and so he takes our focus, our near-complete attention. While he begins the scene wrapped up in himself, gazing at a mirror, it isn’t long before he is stripping himself of much of his outward appearance. Even his voice changes, Malvolio now speaking in a more relaxed manner. And we in the audience can’t help but feel for him. That makes many of the comments that Toby delivers from the audience seem mean rather than necessary take-downs. For Malvolio has, in a strong sense, taken himself down before us. And because Toby and the others speak from the audience, it is as if they also speak for us, and we find ourselves less happy with what they are saying on our behalf. It’s a remarkable effect, something I haven’t experienced before in any production of this play. And it’s not to say there isn’t humor in this scene, for this is plenty, but almost all of it comes from Malvolio himself. Joel Swetow does a phenomenal job here, and is adorable as he works out the letter and finds it to his advantage. He is so good, in fact, that he exits to great applause. And then returns to read the postscript to equally great laughter.

There is, of course, much more laughter when he enters in his yellow stockings. Malvolio wears black shorts to better display those stockings. When Olivia says, “Wilt thou go to bed, Malvolio,” Malvolio turns to the audience, clearly having misunderstood Olivia’s intentions, much the same way she herself has misunderstood Cesario’s, both of them eager for affection. His expression shows what he believes to be his great fortune. Maria delivers the line that is Fabian’s in the text, “If this were play’d upon a stage now, I could condemn it as an improbable fiction,” saying it straight to the audience, which is hilarious. A little later, Kitty Swink switches roles from Maria to Fabian, and is absolutely delightful with a straightforward delivery. Malvolio’s prison cell is located up center, where the dock was at the beginning of the play. And while Feste does an excellent job pretending to be the curate (his line “I would I were the first that ever dissembled in such a gown” is especially met with appreciation), we are more sympathetic to Malvolio, in large part because of the way he revealed himself earlier. We feel he doesn’t deserve this treatment.

One problem that all productions of Twelfth Night have to address and conquer is that of the appearance of Viola and Sebastian. They are twins, and so they must resemble each other. It’s shocking how often they do not. And yes, as audience members we are under some obligation to suspend our disbelief, but it would be good if productions met us halfway in this regard. No character, not even Olivia who apparently sleeps with one of them, not even Feste in his particular wisdom, is able to tell the two apart. Wearing the same costume is obviously a good start, but it really shouldn’t end there. If I saw someone wearing the same outfit my girlfriend wears, I wouldn’t take that person home. At the very least, productions should make sure the two have the same hair (which can be done with dye, haircuts, wigs). In this production, Viola has long blond hair, while Sebastian has short dark hair. Yet no one is able to tell the two apart. While, yes, the characters are older than usual, they are not so old that their eyesight has diminished to that extent. That being said, Isaac Ybarra does quite a good job as Sebastian. And Luis Kelly-Duarte is excellent as Antonio, not always an easy role. When Sebastian reveals his identity to Antonio, Antonio kneels before him, leading to Sebastian’s “whom I know you have heard of.” Toward the end when Sebastian says “I had a sister,” Feste begins a sweet song on piano. John Allee, by the way, in addition to playing Feste, composed the music for this production. When Viola says, “That I am Viola,” she turns to Orsino, saying her name to him, as if finally being able to properly introduce herself, a wonderful moment. Orsino then, on “Boy, thou hast said to me a thousand times,” takes Sebastian by the arm rather than Viola, still confusing the two. Viola’s response is what clues Orsino in on his mistake. Not all the characters find the same joy in the play’s conclusion, but Feste plays the final song on piano, and it’s a lively rendition, the rest of the characters – including Malvolio – joining in, ending on a spirited and joyous note.

This production of Twelfth Night runs through March 17, 2025. Visit the theatre’s website for the complete schedule. There is one intermission, which comes at the end of Act II. Antaeus Theatre Company performs at Kiki & David Gindler Performing Arts Center at 110 East Broadway in Glendale, California.