The Key Dramatic Question

There are two different, contradictory theories regarding how to buckle down and actually write a thing. One says that you should share your idea widely because that will drive curiosity and accountability from the people you tell. The other theory is that you get a similar amount of joy out of telling someone your idea as you do presenting them with the finished piece (maybe even more!) and so by telling others you’re failing the marshmallow test and taking the 1 marshmallow now and removing motivation for the 2 marshmallows later if you actually just went and wrote the thing.

If it’s the latter, then I present to you me failing the marshmallow test.

Despite the fact that my actual top five Shakespeare plays are (in order) a tragedy¹, three comedies², and a romance³, I feel like I have a big soft spot for the histories, particularly the British histories of the 8-play Henriad⁴. I love the way they wrestle with British national mythology by both making it more mythological (condensing characters and plots, simplifying complicated details, and necessarily analogizing battles in a way that’s fit for a simple stage) and by making it less mythological (by diving deep into the psyches of specific characters and having those psychological realities be a key driver of the drama, and by extension, the history.) It’s a masterful thing and a big reason why I’m drawn to history plays in general (from Robert Schenkkan’s LBJ plays to, frankly, Hamilton!) And of course it’s Shakespeare so the language is marvelous, the actual plotting is excellent, the psychology nuanced, etc etc.

But another thing I love about them is that all 8 plays (and to a lesser extent, the Roman histories and many of the tragedies) to me share a dramatic question that they all try to answer in turn: who deserves to be king, or perhaps what makes a good king?

These are plays full of revolution and counter-revolution and difficult trials for rulers to succeed or fail at and each one presents different evidence and different (sometimes contradictory!) arguments for an answer to that question. Richard II is bad for reasons that are different than Henry IV that are different from Henry VI and Edward IV and Richard III. But some are also bad for reasons that are similar to others, and you see rhymes echo throughout the cycle. And sometimes the things that are vices in one king (piety and mercy in the cases of Richard II and Henry VI) are virtues when applied in others (Henry IV and Henry V.) And across the 8 plays, it doesn’t necessarily come to a clean or convincing answer; Henry V is basically the only truly “great” king among the plays, but he’s a deeply flawed and contradictory figure (perhaps a legitimate argument the play may make is that’s what makes a great king: the ability to successfully navigate contradiction!)

But I love the idea of distilling a big swathe of history into a single national question. In Shakespeare’s case, it’s about the quality and validity of royalty (or perhaps leadership more broadly.) This makes sense to me as a layperson that that would be a key national question underlying a lot of British history up until that point, and being a deeply relevant political question in the Elizabethan age full of attempted rebellion, coups, and a looming succession crisis!

And so I’ve naturally, loser that I am, thought about “if you did Shakespearean history about American history, what would be the things you’d cover?” And over the years I’ve been drawn to two periods: the American Civil War, and the Grant presidency (particularly its treatment of the Native Americans.) But in thinking about those, despite how fascinating figures like Lincoln and Grant are, and how they are certainly as worthy of narrative centrality as any Shakespearean king… I don’t think the central question these periods pose is about the quality of leadership. Or at least that doesn’t interest me as much. Rather, I think the common thread that these periods seem to question is: who gets to participate in America?

That’s the fundamental question, to me at least, that can be raised by a war of ending slavery vs preserving it, and preserving a union vs seceding. And equally raised by a hero who risked his life for the cause of ending one form of human domination being willing to extend domination on another group. Do black people get to participate equally in America? Even if they’re free, do they get to vote? How is that different for native Americans?

And, a perhaps cancellable thought, the thing that makes this a live and interesting thing I want to explore is: do the Southerners also get to participate in America? And under what conditions? I say this not to be flippant, but rather because I think it’s a serious question: for the North and Lincoln, why go to war to try and keep a people who do not want to be kept? In what ways is the South’s act secession different from America’s secession from Britain? Is the failure of Reconstruction the original sin that has prevented the United States from achieving its true greatness, or is it the only way to have avoided a second Civil War? Even if it’s the latter, did it truly prevent one, or just punt it a century or two down the road?

That question of who gets to participate in America does seem to be a common thread throughout all parts of our history, or at least the parts most interesting, thorny, and heartbreaking to me. The American Revolution, slavery, the Civil War, the horrific treatment of the Native Americans, the corruption of the Gilded Age, the fight for suffrage, Japanese-American Internment, the Civil Rights movement, and so on and so on.

And it’s very clearly a live issue today, certainly in the sense that there’s active work on the part of the political right to continue to define the bounds of American participation narrower and narrower. And at the same time, the part that’s scariest to me and therefore most interesting….. much like when thinking about the South and the Confederacy and Reconstruction, how does one define full American participation in a world where some of the parties who would participate reject that? It’s clearly wishful thinking to just say “convince them they’re wrong”, but also seems wishful to say “we need them to be a permanent minority consistently out of power.” But also it seems unacceptable to allow the status quo!

So I’ve been interested in maybe, potentially, writing a Shakespearean history about the American Civil War, and/or potentially about Grant/The Battle of the Little Bighorn, through the lens that they are thorny episodes wrestling, perhaps unsatisfactorily, with what seems like our central historical and mythological question of who gets to participate in America? Maybe in so doing I can start to come to my own understanding of what I think the answer is (or should be.) Or maybe, like I imagine Shakespeare saying after finishing say Henry VI.1 “well I don’t what makes a good king but I sure know it’s none of these psychos”, I’ll just have more negative examples.

Or maybe, far and away most likely, I never do it because that’s really ambitious and really hard! I haven’t written a play in like 7 years, why start with the hardest version!! Especially I’ve tried writing blank verse before, that’s really really fucking hard!!!!!!!!! And now by publishing about it maybe I’ll lose all motivation!!!!!!!!!!!!! I guess anything’s possible, but maybe don’t go betting money on this actually being a real thing I do. But still, it’s a thing I think about frequently.

Especially now that our country is run by genuine ghouls who actively and gleefully work towards the death of both Americans and humans worldwide. It is despicable, shameful, and sinful, and if we lived in anything resembling a just world they would have to deal with a lifetime of deserved shame for their cruelty and cowardice. Hopefully one can work to make the world a little more just, I guess.

Anyway happy Fourth of July, what an ignoble chapter for a country with a (potentially) noble question at its heart. In our deep Henry VI.2 era I guess, smh 😔

1. Macbeth, noted Greatest English Language Play Ever Written

2. in order, Much Ado About Nothing, Twelfth Night, As You Like It

3. The Winter’s Tale

4. Richard II, Henry IV parts 1 and 2, Henry V, Henry VI parts 1, 2, and 3, and Richard III