By the time you read this, Oscar night will have come and gone. Shakespeare In Love has received 13 nominations, including Best Film, Best Actress and Best Screenplay.
It is directed by John Madden, co-scripted by Tom Stoppard (one of the most literate and amusing of living playwrights), and stars Gwyneth Paltrow, one of the fastest-rising actresses in cinema.
The film has a simple, romantic storyline. Shakespeare has a writing-block and is in search of a muse to inspire him. This is very bad news for theatre-owner Philip Henslowe, who is waiting for Shakespeare's new, and as yet unwritten, play. The muse comes to the rescue in the form of Viola, a high-born independent-minded girl who desperately wants to act. Because the theatre is an all-male profession in Elizabethan London, she auditions disguised as a man; there are many complicated mishaps before Shakespeare falls in love with her and Romeo and Juliet is written - mirroring the star-crossed lovers themselves, for Viola is promised in loveless marriage to an impoverished nobleman.
Shakespeare in Love has been accused of plagiarism for its resemblances to Caryl Brahms's and S.J. Simon's humorous novel No Bed for Bacon (1941). I have known and loved this book since my schooldays, and the resemblances can't be denied. However, Stoppard has acknowledged that he skimmed the book when researching and considers that he may have subconsciously remembered some of the jokes. I'm sure this is what happened, and if Ned Sherrin, who currently owns the rights to the book, doesn't feel it's a problem (and Stoppard has consulted him on the matter) then neither, I think, need we.
Old London
Like No Bed for Bacon, Shakespeare in Love brings Elizabethan London brilliantly to life. You see at first-hand how bad the streets were, how the River Thames was the main road through the city, how rural the outlying parts of town were. Watching the busyness of the water traffic, and people hailing barges the way we hail taxis today, it becomes clear why Elizabeth was able to hold court in her palace at Greenwich and still be part of London life. The interiors of the theatres are breathtakingly done, and the only uncertain note, in my opinion (others have praised it), is the tendency to indulge in witty anachronisms: the first time we see Shakespeare's room there's a mug visible inscribed: 'A present from Stratford', touches I enjoyed less than most of the critics did.
This is the kind of film of which all who see it retain memories of their favourite bits. I enjoyed Geoffrey Rush's portrayal of theatre-owner Henslowe, gradually mellowing from avaricious businessman to stage-struck wannabee actor; one of the strengths of the film is the superb casting, with a number of distinguished performances establishing detailed characterisations in remarkably few speeches.
Judi Dench's Elizabeth, Simon Callow's Master of the Revels and Martin Clunes's rival theatre-owner are all lovingly crafted characterisations. There's a witty portrait of a gore-obsessed teenager John Webster (read his The Duchess of Malfi to fully enjoy the joke), and the saga of Marlowe's death in a tavern brawl is turned to good use as one of a number of complicated sub-plots that would have warmed Shakespeare's heart.
Entertainment, but ...
So why did I leave the cinema with a sense of regret? The film affirmed many things I hold dear: the value of art as a celebration of life; London in its many Elizabethan aspects (our family went on a guided tour of the restored Globe Theatre a couple of days later and it came alive all over again); and the universality of Shakespeare, who will be gaining a large number of new readers from this film.
The problem is the number of things you have to accept to enjoy this romp to its fullest. One of the film's biggest jests is Shakespeare's attempts to keep secret the fact that he is married and has a wife in Stratford. Why? So that his adulterous relationship with Viola can continue. That relationship is graphically seen, with plentiful nudity; admittedly a good deal more chastely filmed than much of what you'll see most nights on TV, but that's not the point; identifying with these doomed lovers means endorsing pre-marital sex, adultery and lots more. Many would call this taking a sledgehammer to a nut, and being impossibly prudish. So be it. But is it only Christians, I wonder, who will regret that explicit sex, a comically-pursued adultery and a general feeling that romantic love justifies pretty well anything you care to name, are all present in a film that without them would have been great family entertainment?
As it is, if you see this film it will certainly entertain you up to a point, show you many life-affirming qualities and historically will blow your socks off. Unfortunately, if you're like me, you'll be uncomfortable taking young people to see it and there will be moments when you'll be uncomfortable yourself. Now Caryl Brahms and S.J. Simon's No Bed for Bacon is a quite different matter. But that's for a different review . . .
