Sie sind auf Seite 1von 10

Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead: Theater of Criticism

Normand Berlin

Modern Drama, Volume 16, Number 3-4, Fall/Winter 1973, pp. 269-277 (Article) Published by University of Toronto Press DOI: 10.1353/mdr.1973.0023

For additional information about this article

Access provided by UNESP-Universidade Estabul Paulista Julio de Mesquita Filho (28 Jul 2013 02:36 GMT)

Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead: Thea ter of Cri ticism



the theater world of 1966-67 with much fanfare, and in the ensuing years it has .acquired a surprisingly high reputation as a modern classic. It is an important play, but its importance is of a very special kind up to now not acknowledged. The play has fed the modern critics' and audiences' hunger for "philosophical" significances, and as absurdist drama it has been compared favorably and often misleadingly with Beckett's Waiting for Godot. However, its peculiar value as theater of criticism has received no attention. To help recognize this value I offer the following discussion. Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead is a derivative play, correctly characterized by Robert Brustein as a "theatrical parasite."} It feeds on Hamlet, on Six Characters in Search of an Author, and on Waiting for Godot. Stoppard goes to Shakespeare for his characters, for the background to his play's action, and for some direct quotations, to Pirandello for the idea of giving extra-dramatic life to established characters, to Beckett for the tone, the philosophical thrust, and for some comic routines. The play takes Shakespeare's Rosencrantz and Guildenstern - time-servers, who appear rather cool and calculating in Shakespeare, and whose names indicate the courtly decadence they may represent - and transforms them into garrulous, sometimes simple, often rather likable chaps. Baffled, imprisoned in a play they did not write, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern must act out their pre-arranged dramatic destinies. Like Beckett's Vladimir and Estragon, they carryon vaudeville routines, engage in verbal battles and games, and discourse on the issues of life and death. However, whereas Beckett's play, like Shakespeare's, defies easy categories and explanations, and remains elusive in the best sense of the word, suggesting the mystery of life, Stoppard's play



welcomes categories, prods for a clarity of explanation, and seems more interested in substance than shadow. Stoppard's play is conspicuously intellectual; it "thinks" a great deal, and consequently it lacks the "feeling" or union of thought and emotion that we associate with Waiting for Godot and Hamlet. This must be considered a shortcoming in Stoppard's art, but a shortcoming that Stoppard shares with other dramatists and one that could be explained away if only his intellectual insights were less derivative, seemed less canned. To be sure, plays breed plays, and it would be unfair to find fault with Stoppard for going to other plays for inspiration and specific trappings. In fact, at times he uses Shakespeare and Beckett ingeniously and must be applauded for his execution. But when the ideas of an essentially intellectual play seem too easy, then the playwright must be criticized. Whenever Stoppard - his presence always felt although his characters do the talking - meditates on large philosophical issues, his play seems thin, shallow. His idiom is not rich enough to sustain a direct intellectual confrontation with Life and Death. Consider, for example, Guildenstern's question: "The only beginning is birth and the only end is death - if you can't count on that, what can you count on ?,,2 Put in this pedestrian way, the idea behind the question loses its force. Or take Guildenstern's remarks on Death: "Dying is not romantic, and death is not a game which will soon be over ... Death is not anything ... death is not ... It's the absence of presence, nothing more ... the endless time of never coming back ... a gap you can't see, and when the wind blows through it, it makes no sound ...." (p. 124). Examples of this kind of direct philosophical probing can be found throughout the play. We hear a man talking but do not feel the pressure of death behind the words. The passage seems false because the language does not possess the elusiveness and the economy that are essential if a writer wishes to confront large issues directly. But there are indirect ways to deal with life and death, and here Stoppard is highly successful. And here we arrive at the heart of the discussion of Stoppard's art. According to Stoppard himself, his play was "not written as a response to anything about alienation in our times .... It would be fatal to set out to write primarily on an intellectual level. Instead, one writes about human beings under stress - whether it is about losing one's trousers or being nailed to the cross.,,3 Stoppard's words run counter to our experience of the play and indicate once again that writers are not the best judges of their own writing. Like all writers of drama, Stoppard wishes to present human beings under stress, but he does so in the most intellectual way. In fact, there is only one level to the play, one kind of stance, and that level is intellectual. The audience witnesses no forceful sequence of narrative, since the story is known and therefore already solidified in the audience's mind. One could say that the audience is given not sequence but status-quo, and status-quo points to a "critical stance - a way of looking at the events of the playas a critic would, that is, experiencing the playas structure,



complete, unmoving, unsequential. In the act of seeing a stage play, which moves in time, we are in a pre-critical state, fully and actively engaged in the play's events. When the play is over, then we become critics, seeing the playas a structural unity and, in fact, able to function as critics only because the play has stopped moving. 4 In the act of seeing Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead, however, our critical faculty is not subdued. We are always observing the characters and are not ourselves participating. We know the results of the action because we know Hamlet, so that all our references are backward. Not witnessing a movement in time, we are forced to contemplate the frozen state, the status-quo, of the characters who carry their Shakespearean fates with them. It is during Stoppard's play that we function as critics, just as Stoppard, through his characters, functions as critic within the play. It is precisely this critical stance of Stoppard, of his characters, and of his audience that allows me to attach the label "theater of criticism" to the play, thereby specifying what I believe to be Stoppard's distinctiveness as a modern dramatist. We recognize and wonder at those points in Shakespeare's plays where he uses the "theater" image to allow us to see, critically, the play before us from a different angle, where, for example, we hear of the future re-creations of Caesar's murder at the very point in the play where it is re-created, or where we hear Cleopatra talk about her greatness presented on stage "i' th' posture of a whore" at the moment when it is presented in that posture. At these moments Shakespeare engages us on a cerebral level, forcing us to think, stopping the action to cause us to consider the relationship between theater and life. These Shakespearean moments are expanded to occupy much of Stoppard's play, just as Shakespeare's minor characters are expanded to become Stoppard's titular non-heroes. I have indicated Stoppard's shortcomings when he wishes to express truths about Life and Death. However, as critic discussing Hamlet and Elizabethan drama, he is astute, sometimes brilliant, and his language is effective because it need not confront head-on the large issues that only poetry, it seems, is successful in confronting directly. In a New Yorker interview with actors Brian Murray and John Woods, who played Rosencrantz and Guildenstern in the New York production of Stoppard's play, Murray says: "I have been an actor most of my life, and I've played all kinds of parts with the Royal Shakespeare Company, but I never realized how remarkable Shakespeare is until I saw what Tom Stoppard could do with a couple of minor characters from Hamlet."s This fleeting statement in a rather frivolous interview pinpoints what Stoppard does best: what he can "do with" Shakespeare's minor characters to help us realize "how remarkable Shakespeare is." That is, Stoppard helps us to see more clearly not "human beings under stress" but Shakespeare. The actor Murray is applauding a critical function, and as we thread our way through the play Stoppard must be praised for precisely that function.



Here is an exchange between Rosencrantz and Guildenstern in which Guildenstern, pretending to be Hamlet (or, to put it better, playing Hamlet), is being questioned by Rosencrantz.
ROS. Let me get it straight. Your father was king. You were his only

son. Your father dies. You are of age. Your uncle becomes king. GUlL. Yes. ROS. Unorthodox. GUIL. Undid me. ROS. Undeniable. Where were you? GUlL. In Germany. ROS. Usurpation, then. GUlL. He slipped in. ROS. Which reminds me. GUlL. Well, it would. ROS. I don't want to be personal. GUlL. It's common knowledge. ROS. Your mother's marriage. GUlL. He slipped in. ROS. . .. His body was still warm. GUlL. So was hers. ROS. Extraordinary. GUlL. Indecent. ROS. Hasty. GUlL. Suspicious. ROS. It makes you think. GUlL. Don't think I haven't thought of it. ROS. And with her husband's brother. GUlL. They were close. ROS. She went to him GUlL. - Too dose ROS. - for comfort. GUlL. It looks bad. ROS. It adds up. GUlL. Incest to adultery. ROS. Would you go so far? G UIL. Never. ROS. To sum up: your father, whom you love, dies, you are his heir, you come back to find that hardly was the corpse cold before his young brother popped onto the throne and into his sheets, thereby offending both legal and natural practice. Now why exactly are you behaving in this extraordinary manner? GUlL. I can't imagine! (pp. 49-51) This dialogue says as much about Hamlet's dilemma - crisply, comically - as many a critical essay, and it makes T. S. Eliot's search for an objective correlative in Hamlet seem academic. How effectively Stoppard repeats that phrase "He slipped in" to cover Hamlet's concern with both politics and sex.



How precisely Rosencrantz's low-key "It makes you think" characterizes Hamlet's usual mode of behavior. How brilliantly Stoppard brings together the warmth of a newly dead body and the heat of a mature woman's body, Hamlet's two main preoccupations. Not that Stoppard in a few words has reached the heart of Hamlet's mystery; it never will be reached. But he allows us to place the mystery within a refreshingly clear framework. At the same time, by having Guildenstern play Hamlet, by having him put on that theatrical mask - calling to mind the various maskings of the Player Stoppard allows us to think of man's usual condition: "Give us this day our daily mask." Stoppard, again as critic and again through stichomythic dialogue, presents his thoughts on that vexing problem of Hamlet's madness.
ROS. Hamlet is not himself, outside or in. We have to glean what

afflicts him. GUlL. He doesn't give much away. PLAYER. Who does, nowadays? GUlL. He's - melancholy. PLA YER. Melancholy? ROS. Mad. PLAYER. How is he mad? ROS. Ah. (to GUlL] How is he mad? GUlL. More morose than mad, perhaps. PLAYER. Melancholy. GUlL. Moody. ROS. He has moods. PLAYER. Of moroseness? GUlL. Madness. And yet. ROS. Quite. GUlL. For instance. ROS. He talks to himself, which might be madness. GUlL. If he didn't talk sense, which he does. ROS. Which suggests the opposite. PLAYER. Of what?
Small pause.
GUlL. I think I have it. A man talking sense to himself is no madder

than a man talking nonsense not to himself.

ROS. Or just as mad. GUlL. Or just as mad. ROS. And he does both. GUlL. So there you are. ROS. Stark raving sane.

(pp. 67-68) Here we proceed to a conclusion about Hamlet's insanity-sanity through a maze of conundrums, interestingly imitating Hamlet's own procedure of finding directions out by indirections. And along the way we begin to observe, again as critics, a condition of modem life, in which people do not



reveal much about themselves "nowadays," "times being what they are." Stoppard forces us to question certain assumptions about a character in another dramatist's play and, by extension, about man in the play-writ-Iarge called life. Stoppard confronts another critical crux in Hamlet when he has the Player present this brief statement on the dumb show: "Well, it's a device, really - it makes the action that follows more or less comprehensible; you understand, we are tied down to a language which makes up in obscurity what it lacks in style" (p. 77). Again we find that an attempt to answer the kind of question a critic would ask leads to a larger statement about the inability of language to communicate. Quotations as evidence of Stoppard's critical examination of Hamlet can be multiplied. His critical interest, however, is wide and takes in Elizabethan drama and theatrical art in general. I offer only one example, an interesting dialogue on tragedy:
GUlL. You're familiar with the tragedies of antiquity, are you? The

great homicidal classics? Matri, patri, fratri, sorrori, uxori and it goes without saying ROS. SaucyGUlL. - Suicidal - hm? Maidens aspiring to godheads ROS. And vice versa GUlL. Your kind of thing, is it? PLAYER. Well, no, I can't say it is, really. We're more of the blood, love and rhetoric school. GUlL. Well, I'll leave the choice to you, of there is anything to choose between them. PLAYER. They're hardly divisible, sir - well, I can do you blood and love without the rhetoric, and I can do you blood and rhetoric without the love, and I can do you all three concurrent or consecutive, but I can't do you love and rhetoric without the blood. Blood is compulsory - they're all blood, you see. GUlL. Is that what people want? PLA YER. It's what we do. (pp. 32-33) Stoppard, a drama critic before turning playwright and in this play a playwright as drama critic, crisply pinpoints the characteristics of Greek and Elizabethan tragedy and, enlarging the range of his criticism, uses these tragic characteristics to indicate what "we" - players and audience - do. I am arguing that Stoppard is most successful when he functions as a critic of drama and when he allows his insights on the theater to lead him to observations on life. He is weakest, most empty, when he attempts to confront life directly. 6 Stoppard is at his artistic best when he follows the advice of Polonius: "By indirections find directions out." This is as it should be, I think, because Stoppard's philosophical stance depends so heavily on the



"play" idea, the mask, the game, the show. Not only is the entire Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead a play within a play that Shakespeare has written, but throughout Stoppard uses the idea of play. Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, and of course the Player, are conscious of themselves as players, acting out their lives, and baffled, even anguished, by the possibility that no one is watching the performance. All the world is a stage for Stoppard, as for Shakespeare, but Shakespeare's art fuses world and stage, causing the barriers between what is real and what is acted to break down, while Stoppard's art separates the two, makes us observers and critics of the stage, and allows us to see the world through the stage, ever conscious that we are doing just that. The last is my crucial point: Stoppard forces us to be conscious observers of a play frozen before us in order that it may be examined critically. Consequently, what the play offers us, despite its seeming complexity and the virtuosity of Stoppard's technique, is clarity, intellectual substance, rather than the shadows and mystery that we find in Hamlet or the pressure of life's absurdity that we find in Waiting for GodOl. Of course, we miss these important aspects of great drama, and some critics and reviewers have correctly alluded to the play's deficiencies in these respects, 7 but we should not allow what is lacking to erase what is there bright, witty, intellectual criticism and high theatricality. I present one final example, taken from the end of the play, to demonstrate Stoppard's fine ability to make criticism and theater serve as a commentary on man. In this incident - "Incidents! All we get is incidents! Dear God, is it too much to expect a little sustained action?!" Guildenstem, who all along has shown contempt for the players and for their cheap melodrama in presenting scenes of death, becomes so filled with vengeance and scorn that he snatches the dagger from the Player's belt and threatens the Player: I'm talking about death - and you've never experienced that. And you cannot act it. You die a thousand casual deaths - with none of that intensity which squeezes out life ... and no blood runs cold anywhere. Because even as you die you know that you will come back in a different hat. But no one gets up after death - there is no applause there is only silence and some second-hand clothes, and that's - death
- (p. 123)

He then stabs the Player, who "with huge, terrible eyes, clutches at the wound as the blade withdraws: he makes small weeping sounds and falls to his knees, and then right down." Hysterically, Guildenstern shouts: "If we have a destiny, then so had he - and if this is ours, then that was his - and if there are no explanations for us, then let there be none for him -" At which point the other players on stage applaud the Player, who stands up, modestly accepts the admiration of his fellow tragedians, and proceeds to show Guildenstern how the blade of the play dagger is pushed into the handle. Here we seem to witness, for the only time in the play, an act being



performed, a choice being made, not dictated by the events of Shakespeare's play - only to discover that we have witnessed playing, theater. Guildenstern and Rosencrantz are taken in by the performance of a false death, bearing out the Player's belief, stated earlier in the play, that audiences believe only false deaths, that when he once had an actor, condemned for stealing, really die on stage the death was botched and unbelievable. What we have in Guildenstern's "killing" of the Player, therefore, is a theatrical re-enforcement of the earlier observations on audiences by the Player as critic. As we spectators watch the event - Rosencrantz had remarked earlier that he feels "like a spectator" we intellectually grasp the fact that we had no real action, that no choice was made, Stoppard thereby making his philosophical point indirectly and with fine effect. In Stoppard a condition of life is most clearly understood, it seems, only when reflected in a critical, theatrical mirror. In Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead we do not have the kind of theater characterized by such phrases as direct involvement, emotional, pre-critical, theater of the heart, but rather a theater of criticism, intellectual, distanced, of the mind. In a very real sense, Stoppard is an artist-critic writing drama for audience-critics, a dramatist least effective when he points his finger directly at the existential dilemma - "What does it all add up to?" and most effective when he confronts the play Hamlet and Elizabethan drama and theatrical art, thereby going roundabout to get to the important issues. Stoppard's play, because it feeds on both an Elizabethan tragedy and a modern tragicomedy, gives us the opportunity to consider the larger context of modern drama, especially Joseph Wood Krutch's well-known and ominous observations on the death of tragedy and his prediction of the devolution of tragedy from Religion to Art to Document. 8 Krutch finds an interesting answer, I believe, in Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead. Using Krutch's words, but not in the way he uses them, we can say that Rosencrantz and Guildenstem Are Dead is art that studies art, and therefore serving as a document, dramatic criticism as play presenting ideas on Hamlet, on Elizabethan drama, on theatrical art, and by so doing commenting on the life that art reveals. That is, Stoppard's play is holding the mirror of art up to the art that holds the mirror up to nature. This double image causes the modern audience to take the kind of stance often associated with satire. And yet, Stoppard's play cannot be called satirical, for it makes no attempt to encourage the audience into any kind of action, as do Brecht's plays, or to cause the audience to change the way things are. The play examines the way things are, or, more precisely stated, it intellectually confronts and theatricalizes the condition of man the player and the world as theater. By the pressure of its critical energy, the play awakens in the audience a recognition of man's condition, not in order to change that condition, but to see it clearly. In short, by presenting a theatrical, artistic document, Stoppard makes us think - the words "document" and "think" pointing to the modernity, the impoverishment,



and the particular value of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead. The play presents not revelation but criticism, not passionate art - Hamlet in the graveyard - but cool, critical, intellectual art - Hamlet playing with the recorders. Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead, in its successful moments, brilliantly displays the virtues of theater of criticism, and perhaps shows the direction in which some modern drama will be going - "times being what they are." NOTES
1. Robert Brustein, "Waiting for Hamlet," The New Republic 4, November, 1967, p. 25. 2. Tom Stoppard, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead, New York, 1967, p. 39. Subsequent page references will appear in the body of the essay. 3. Tom Prideaux, "Uncertainty Makes the Big Time," Life 9, February 1968,p.76. 4. Here Northrop Frye's comments are illuminating. A Natural Perspective, New York, 1965, pp. 8-10. 5. "Talk of the Town," The New Yorker 4, November 1967, p. 52. 6. In The Real Inspector Hound, New York, 1968, Stoppard again uses the play-within-a-play technique, this time with two drama critics witnessing a play on stage and then joining in it. Here, however, the technique is used more for suspense and comedy than for presenting philosophical insights. 7. In addition to the Brustein article, cited above, the following provide useful commentary on the play: C. J. Gianakaris, "Absurdism Altered: Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead," Drama Survey 7, 1968-69, pp. 52-58; Andrew K. Kennedy, "Old and New in London Now," Modern Drama 11, February, 1969, pp. 437-46; Jack Kroll, "R & G," Newsweek 30, October 1967, pp. 90-92; Walter Kerr, Thirty Plays Hath November, New York, 1969, pp.50-53. 8. Joseph Wood Krutch, The Modern Temper, New York, 1957, p. 143.