Shakespeare & the Art of Feminine Rage
I would eat his heart in the marketplace!
“I would eat his heart in the marketplace.” — Much Ado About Nothing, Act IV, Scene 1, Lines 320-321.
Ah, Much Ado About Nothing. It’s a fan-favorite Shakespeare play following one set of naïve romantics falling fast in love leading to near-tragedy and a second set of world-weary cynics falling in love despite their wit and wile (spoiler, sorry, but the play was written in 1598-1599ish… you should’ve seen it by now). It’s a nigh-perfect RomCom in the vein of the enemies-to-lovers trope that might be the lost sequel to Love’s Labour’s Lost (Love’s Labour’s Won), which is particularly interesting because of how close it comes to being a tragedy.
The Shakespeare Sitch
The play begins with a group of soldiers returning to Messina (think idyllic Italian countryside). Our young protégé to the Prince, Claudio, has fallen for the wide-eyed ingenue and only daughter of their host, Hero. Ah, young love… bless their hearts.
Also among this rag-tag group of soldiers is the quick-witted and confirmed bachelor, Benedick. He rails against the idiocy of marriage and love with such conviction that even those unable to identify dramatic irony from thirty paces are assured he will be wed by the end of the play. Enter his verbal sparring partner and Shakespearean heroine GOAT (I will take no questions), Beatrice. To say they have a low opinion of one another would be an understatement of, well, Shakespearean proportions. There’s a suggestion the two were once an item and so burned by the experience as to be determined to do battle every time they met. Regardless, their interactions of disdain and revile are a delight.
However, the rest of the revelers of Messina do not quite see the charm in the Benedick and Beatrice Battle, and so decide to play a little trick. Through transparent and comedic machinations, they convince the confirmed bachelor Benedick and the determined spinster (seriously, why don’t we have a cooler name for that yet?) that the other is in love with them. Hilarity ensues as B&B attempt to set aside pride and— dare I say—prejudice in order to give this love a chance. And they lived happily ever—
Nope. The youths have entered the chat. Young Claudio and Hero are madly in love (despite knowing very little about each other, themselves, or the world). Claudio asks the Prince to arrange a marriage between him and Hero. The Prince, who is honestly love-starved and deserved his own Meghan Markle, happily obliges. And they lived happily ever—
Nope. As the Prince, a wannabe Cupid, flits from couple to couple making matches, his brother — who they admittedly refer to as “John the Bastard”— does what he can to cause death and pain. He convinces Claudio that the Prince is wooing Hero for himself, and Claudio (who is far to trusting of a man regularly referred to as “the Bastard”) pouts until the Prince assures him it isn’t true. But the Prince’s brother, who we will refer to as JTB, doesn’t give up so easily.
Now I mentioned earlier how close this play comes to ending in tragedy. That is because many of the same plot devices used in great Shakespearean tragedy are thrown at this foursome, but to no avail. For once, stars and patriarchy be damned, love wins out.
First, we have a mirroring of Othello (written about five years after Much Ado) in that JTB takes Claudio to Hero’s window to watch her gentlewoman be ravaged by a cohort, and convinces him she’s being unfaithful. It works because Claudio is a clod (but also, it’s a relatively convincing ruse). And, because unlike B&B who do nothing but communicate, Hero and Claudio cannot conversate their way out of a paper bag, he decides to confront her with this information at their wedding. She’s publicly shamed by her father. He storms off like a twit. She faints.
Tragedy.
But, you say, what about this feminine rage we were promised? I’m very glad you asked. As the patriarchal engine is systematically destroying Hero’s chance at a comic ending, the gears are ground to a halt by Beatrice’s just and valiant feminine rage.
In the midst of the Hero-Claudio tragedy, Benedick and Beatrice confess their love to one another. And he, fool that he is, says “Come, bid me do anything for thee.” He’s probably completely ready to fetch roses and chocolates and jewelry. But, alack, he is in love with a tigress not a doe. And she demands that he “kill Claudio.” What?!? Would Joey kill Chandler? Marshall kill Ted? Bert kill Ernie? Of course not!
Cue the feminine rage. Beatrice cloaks herself in righteousness, and rages at Hero’s treatment and the unfairness of society. She weaponizes every ounce of wit and reason that once made up their repartee and convinces Benedick to challenge Claudio to a duel.
Ah, hello Tybalt and Mercutio whose duel and denied Romeo & Juliet their comedic ending. I’m happy to report in this instance, the day is saved because, for once, the Friar doesn’t mess it all up (looking at you, Friar Lawrence from Romeo & Juliet), or get high on his own drama (that’s right Duke-in-friar-clothing from Measure for Measure, I’m calling you tragic). As most friars do, he suggests they tell everyone that Hero has died until they can prove her chastity. They put Claudio through a bit of torment once he realizes JBT was a filthy liar (duh?), and makes him perform burial rituals for the woman he believes he’s murdered and then marry her cousin (it was a different time, ok?). And for once, this hairbrained dead-chick scheme works! Claudio repents and Hero takes him back (for some unknown reason… maybe he had a really cute butt?).
And they all live happily ever after, “converting all your sounds of woe, into Hey, nonny, nonny.”
Speak the Speech, I Pray You
Bring Shakespeare’s words into your own life by:
Intimidating potential lovers to determine their metal;
Shouting at people who cut you off in traffic;
And … expressing displeasure at one who would dare to dog-ear a book.
This week I was joined by the amazing Amanda Abright! She is an actor, director, and escrow officer based in The Woodlands. Check out the upcoming All the World’s a Stage, which she wrote and directed (with a little help from me). Tickets available here.
If memory serves me right, John the Bastard was masked at a masquerade party, and as we all know from Shakespeare, the second someone wears a mask, no one can identify them. So at best Claudio is informed by an anonymous source. What I never really understood is after being accused, why Hero would even want to marry Claudio. But then again it is a RomCom so it needs a happy ending.