A Comedy to Fall in Love With

You can listen to this week’s episode of Crack the Book, about As You Like It, on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, or wherever you love to listen to podcasts.

After reading three of the Henry plays, it is time to bring some levity to my Shakespeare reading. As You Like It was the perfect light play for the heavy dog days of summer in Charleston.

My big question was: Will Shakespeare’s comedy really translate to 21st century America? Last year, as part of Ted Gioia’s reading list, the only Shakespearean comedy we looked at was A Midsummer Night’s Dream. It was by far my least favorite of all nine plays. One of the things that concerned me was whether all of Shakespeare’s comedies would be as trying as that one. It felt like it was trying too hard to be ridiculous, and I just wanted it to be over.

I’m happy to report that I didn’t feel that way at all about this play! Of course it is Shakespeare, so he will knock you over with a few thought-provoking speeches, the kind that make you wonder whether you’re actually watching a comedy. But that’s one of the things I love about him.

Part of my hope in sharing these monthly Shakespeare posts is that you’ll be inspired to pick up a play or two as well. To that end, I like to provide a plot summary—and there will be spoilers—as well as some thoughts about the play in general. I’ll also give you some examples of favorite lines and speeches. I was shocked at how many lines I knew from this particular play.

This is a guess, but I think all Shakespeare comedies must start from the most ridiculous plot points. I think he expects us to suspend disbelief with all of his plays, but especially with the comedies. Keep that in mind as I share the major plot points of As You Like It.

A Duke is overthrown by his younger brother, banished to the Forest of Arden along with some of his court. The Duke has a daughter, Rosalind, who is such good friends with her cousin Celia (who is the daughter of the younger brother) that she is permitted to stay in the court until one night when the usurper gets fed up and banishes both his niece and his own daughter to the Forest of Arden as well. They decide to disguise themselves as brother and sister, with Rosalind taking on the disguise of the young man Ganymeade.

Meanwhile, a younger brother Orlando is unhappy with the way his older brother Oliver is administering his rightful inheritance. Oliver, insulted, tries to murder his younger brother but fails. In all of this Orlando and Rosalind lay eyes on each other, fall in love at first sight, but then are separated by the banishment. After the murder attempt, the younger brother also escapes into the forest.

You get the feeling that the Forest is simultaneously very large to hold all of these people who seem to wander a lot, but also very small because they keep running into each other.

In the forest, Rosalind-as-Ganymeade runs into Orlando, who is mooning over his lost love. S/he says, “Oh, I’ll help you forget about this girl! Why don’t you tell me all about her and then I’ll help you fall out of love.” Obviously Orlando does not in any way recognize this disguised young man, and he doesn’t realize that he is in fact wooing fair Rosalind.

Meanwhile, Orlando also saves his older brother from a lion attack. Oliver realizes the error of his ways and forgives his brother (for what, I’m not sure). Orlando is the bigger man and accepts the forgiveness to patch things up. And then of course Oliver lays eyes on cousin Celia, falls in love and proposes marriage.

Simultaneously, the younger usurper Duke has a religious conversion off stage and decides to relinquish the throne back to its rightful Duke and makes up with his brother. So he just steps away and the court is restored, almost everyone coming back from the forest. The play ends with four marriages and the cast dancing their way off the stage, until Rosalind returns to make a funny epilogue about men and women.

Believe it or not, I’ve left out at least three other subplots. Young lovers keep popping up, and then the court jester Touchstone will make some observations, and then occasionally Jaques, one of the Duke’s lords, will deliver a thoughtful speech. There is a lot going on, and I think a proper production would be perfectly manic in its pacing.

Every play can’t be about big ideas, but Shakespeare manages to sneak things into everything he writes. The first thing that jumps out is the issue of primogeniture. Until 1925, oldest sons inherited all property if there was no will, and aristocracy with its titles and landholdings held on until 2011. Elizabeth, a woman, was queen at the time this play was written, and she had no children. Succession was an important topic, but it was also important for all kinds of families. This play presents older and younger brothers, but in one pair the older brother is bad, while the other pair’s younger brother is the worthy one. I loved that Shakespeare wasn’t willing to make anything clear. The bad brothers are redeemable, the good brothers forgiving, and all the families are willing to let disagreements slide into the past.

Another issue is court life versus country life, as represented by the free-flowing society of the Forest of Arden. As Celia and Rosalind head to their banishment in the forest, Celia remarks that, “now go we in content/to liberty and not to banishment.” Celia, in the end, chooses life in the forest even as Rosalind and Orlando move back to court. Shakespeare himself lived this kind of dual life, with work in London but a home in the bustling but small town of Stratford-upon-Avon. His wife grew up on a prosperous farm outside of Stratford, while he himself was a town kid, the son of a glove maker. And again, Shakespeare is no advocate of urban living—he lets each environment have its own charms as well as its own drawbacks.

So this brings me to something that I’m just starting to think about with Shakespeare. He loves to set up these categories, and I think we as the audience want the divisions to be neat. But then he sets up legitimate ways for each side to be the “good” one. And in doing that, is he pointing out that the things we think of as important distinctions actually aren’t? This is something I want to sit with, because I think it’s important. But I don’t want to say it’s a universal quality of Shakespeare when I’ve just scratched the surface.

There is also the matter of disguises in Shakespeare, and they are an important part of the story. But since I think we will see that often in the comedies, I’m going to wait until next month to comment on that.

Finally, Shakespeare manages to build beautiful and surprising speeches into every play. In particular this comedy had some very thoughtful, almost dark lines that came fairly early on. The proper Duke’s “Sweet are the uses of adversity” finds him reflecting on the joys of country life (even though he chooses the court in the end).

Jaques, one of the exiled Duke’s lords, has some of the best speeches in the play, although he is not a funny guy. He remarks on the fleeting nature of life: “And so from hour to hour we ripe and ripe,/And from hour to hour we rot and rot,/And thereby hangs a tale.” (Act 2, Sc. 7) Jaques also gives the very familiar “All the world’s a stage” speech, which really should be heard rather than read (if there are ads I’m so sorry!):

Not exactly comedic material! But I can imagine the young man who watched this play, had a wonderful time, but three days later finds himself thinking about these lines.

And Shakespeare is the master of the sideways insult. The one I’m still laughing about is from Act 3, Sc. 5, relationship advice from one woman to another: “Sell when you can; you are not for all markets.” I would love to be able to use that one sometime!

Every time we look at a play, I try to share a movie version that I enjoyed. Sadly, I only have one, and this time I recommend against it: Kenneth Branagh’s 2006 As You Like It. This movie is set in 19th century Japan, but all of the language is still from the play. I found the strategy of moving this play to such a completely unexpected setting was just too unsettling. I had to stop watching it.

I love adaptations—I love that West Side Story is Romeo and Juliet, and that Clueless is Emma, and that Ten Things I Hate About You is The Taming of the Shrew. But in those cases the mood and story stayed the same even though the setting and language were changed. That is not what Branagh did. After last month’s incomparable Henry V, I was shocked at how awful I thought this movie was. I suppose Kenneth Branagh isn’t perfect.

I enjoyed this play so much, I decided to try a second comedy for next month. We are going to read Much Ado About Nothing for September. It’s a great opportunity to continue with a little bit lighter fare and to be able to compare a couple of comedies to see if my love of As You Like It was a one-off or an indication of great things to come.

Meanwhile, let me know about this play. Have you read it? Maybe you had to memorize that “all the world’s a stage” speech? I’d love to hear what you think.