The departing Artistic Director of the Royal Shakespeare Company dissects Shakespeare's work in a revelatory new book.
Gregory Doran boasts an enviable resumé. After joining the Royal Shakespeare Company in 1987 as an actor, he climbed the ladder from Assistant Director to Artistic Director, succeeding Michael Boyd in 2012. Now Director Emeritus after a period of compassionate leave in 2022, he details his journey from a Jesuit grammar school to, arguably, one of the most important and influential theatre organisations in the world.
Coinciding with the 400th anniversary of the First Folio - the first reliable collection of plays written by William Shakespeare, published seven years after the Bard's death by his friends and colleagues John Heminge and Henry Condell - Doran's latest book gives a revelatory and revolutionary breakdown of the canon in a way that works for both the professional and uninitiated.
His (obviously tight) grip on Shakespeare's universe is permeated by reverence and deference, but what seeps through the pages is his pure love for his language and characters. "If you know the map, you can run through the maze" he says in My Shakespeare - A Director's Journey through the First Folio, before he takes the plunge and reveals his own methods. I
t's a joy to (re)discover Shakespeare's plays through his eyes. Other than a variety of practical advice (play comedy seriously; be mindful of what you create; to cut or not to cut?...), he explains the role that Shakespeare had in his life, how his works have moulded it, and how to approach the material so that it can shape ours too.
Doran ties the sociopolitical landscape to his own productions, highlighting that theatre doesn't happen in a bubble, but speaks to - and about - the realm that surrounds it, just like it did back in Shakespeare's time. His pragmatic suggestions have a profound philosophical side. When the latter surfaces, it exposes a fine social and emotional intelligence. An easy example is that, according to Doran, the staging of the weird sisters (commonly known as the witches, even though they're technically never called that) in Macbeth can unravel the whole plot. "They are products of that society. Discover what the society is, what obsesses and motors it, and you may understand what has produced them" he writes. He urges any potential directors to pay attention to what's happening around them: Henry V, for instance, always ends up being an intrinsic reflection of the current attitude to war.
It's fascinating to see each piece dissected according to his own experiences. He describes the challenges of directing the Japanese production of The Merchant of Venice in a country that had never seen it and who's unfamiliar with its conventions. Yes, it's a book about staging Shakespeare, but - just like the plays do - it hides a special key to understanding the world. He unlocks the characters for the reader, but leaves it up to them to open the door fully.
He investigates the humanity and contradictions found in Antony and Cleopatra, speculates who All's Well That Ends Well's Bertram might have been in relation to the playwright, and interrogates Rosaline's racial background and the concurrent overt racism in the original text, theorising the presence of a non-white actor in the King's Men (perhaps the Dark Lady herself).
His hypotheses span Hotspur's neurodivergent nature (hinted at in his 2014 Henry IV) and a compelling exploration of Iago's sexuality. He discards the idea of a homosexual villain, but digs into his potential impotence. The sexual imagery in his speeches and his very jealousy of Emilia could be linked to an obsessive relationship to his inability to satisfy himself as well as his wife. It's riveting stuff.
He details his forensic collaborative process, which starts at the very first reading of whichever play he's tackling. The initial weeks of rehearsal are dedicated to a communal experience that avoids the single roles of the actors involved and, instead, explores the words and sounds of the writing. He eulogises its beauty and inventiveness, delving into how vowels and consonants join together to create a rhythm to deliver a specific soundscape. The book is a sophisticated love letter to the craft and at times it slips into diaristic territory, which leads to a more personal glimpse into his life.
He recounts the weeks before Michael Boyd was chosen to lead the RSC instead of him in 2002; we read, almost in slow motion, how a rare Tuesday matinée performance of King John metaphorically saw the towers fall in 2001; we walk with him in solitude around the closed foyer of the Royal Shakespeare Theatre during the second lockdown. Whilst the latter example can be perceived as a sorrowful moment in the history of the company, it's genuinely heartwarming to see all the Covid programming bulked in a few pages, as a testament to the team's resourcefulness and dedication to art.
We get to be privy to the intellectual liaisons that cement the greatness of Greg Doran. Lear "starts as a grand opera but develops into a work by Samuel Beckett". Technology is something he's unafraid of using to enhance the audience's experience (as proven by his 2016 Tempest powered by Intel). My Shakespeare, however, isn't a cold manual on how to stage the Bard. It's full to the brim with Doran's heart and brain.
He opens it with a dedication to his late husband, the great actor Antony Sher who, towards the end of the book, he calls "conjunctive to [his] life and soul". As Sher's cancer diagnosis is confirmed, Doran's writing becomes more clipped, his sentences seemingly taken over by grief itself. If his personal life has politely intruded contextually, now it briefly fights against obscuring his artistic input. It's a heartbreaking point.
"Shakespeare uses the past to illuminate the present, both as a warning and as a prophecy" Doran writes. He condenses the importance of staging the Bard in this simple line, summarising why his works feel as fresh as they did some four centuries ago. Shakespeare reveals the most inner human truths in a way nobody will ever do again. Doran knows it, now we do too.
My Shakespeare - A Director's Journey through the First Folio is published by Bloomsbury on 20 April, and available for pre-order here.
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