Troilus and Cressida had been one of the few Shakespeare plays I had not read yet, so I set down and read it this week. I can’t say that the play impressed me nearly as much as others. The dialogue seems forced with long passages that I have trouble imagining played on stage. And the film version I rented from Netflix this weekend certainly didn’t help prove to me that the play was doable on stage. The film, an old BBC version, like all those old BBC versions, felt much more like a filmed reading where the readers wear costumes, than a real stage performance or film. I won’t say that the play couldn’t be done well on stage, because I have seen an exceptional performance of Timon of Athens in Stratford, Ontario three years ago, another play that seemed to me as it would be very clumsy on stage. The actor playing Timon, though, found movement and meaning in those lines that I entirely missed while reading it – so I’ll not say that Troilus and Cressida couldn’t be done well on stage, only that I don’t see it from my initial readings of the play.

I chose to read Troilus and Cressida at this time because it uses the word emulation more times (four) than any other Shakespearean play and I wanted to have a better understanding of the context of these uses in order to better understand how Shakespeare thought and wrote of emulation and imitation in his plays. I think I’ll wait to comment on that, though, in a later post.

What really interests me in this moment after reading goes back to the issue of this play in performance and in print. Lasser alludes to the play’s print history in the introduction to his book, discussing how its original early modern publishers altered the play’s opening in order to make it appeal to his “readers” – readers who prefered something not sullied by the stage. Lasser presents some ideas about Shakespeare’s text that really complicate that classic question about Virginia Woolf asks whether or not Shakespeare is best seen in performance or read in the book. Students and others love to point out that Shakespeare wrote for the stage and not to be read, which is quite true. At the same time, though, the texts of Shakespeare we have were published for a reading audience and with their tastes in mind. Those publishers wrote for a very different type of audience, as Lasser points out, than those who saw Shakespeare’s works performed at the Globe.

And Troilus and Cressida is a good example of such a play that complicates that. It was performed on stage, but the version we have in print was one certainly meant for a “reading” audience and its preface disdains the theater and its “clapper-clawing” playgoers. It certainly is filled with amazing, though wordy, poetic passages that pack a real punch. Even if I don’t see it working on stage, I certainly can feel its poetry when I take the time with it that only reading can offer me. This is definitely a play that complicates whether or not Shakespeare is best seen live in performance or savored over time in reading.