Further to yesterday's post on the influence that Shakespeare's acting experience had on his writing, it occurred to me, while preparing for my upcoming lectures on the two parts of Henry IV (see January 5 post for dates, times and locations - or email the address above), that one of the challenges that he set for himself was to re-cast old ideas and material into a dramatic form that was both playable (i.e. good for the actor) and memorable (i.e. good for the audience member). My point is that as an actor, he would have had the opportunity of having performed some less than good works (such as The Famous Victories of Henry the Fifth, a probable source for the plays in question), which may have then triggered in him the desire to improve on them. This, I believe, became one of his primary methods of working for the rest of his career. It would also partially explain why Shakespeare seemed to be equally as inspired by bad sources as good ones.

The scene that brought this to my mind was act four, scene five from Henry IV, Part Two that is clearly derived from the cliche of the heir apparent trying on the borrowed crown. In the hands of most writers (even now, I'm sorry to say), this scene would most probably remain contrived and dull, but Shakespeare used it as an opportunity to make explorations into all sorts of psychological and philosophical territories that are both very actable and very real. Here's a link to the scene: http://www.opensourceshakespeare.org/views/plays/play_view.php?WorkID=henry4p2&Act=4&Scene=5&Scope=scene.

It occurred to me today that Shakespeare's acting career (some theorize that he did quite a bit of it, starting in the lost years) must have had quite a bit of impact on his writing one. The fact that he would have gained a lot of understanding regarding the experience of getting in front of crowds, performing actions, speaking memorized words, and carrying a story must have played a part in his work. In my December 10 post, I compared Shakespeare to Duke Ellington, but I didn't mention the performing parallel (Ellington was a great pianist), and now I realize that it might have been the most important of all. The varied experiences of these two giants, both generally acknowledged as the best in their fields, brings up the question of whether the arts, like many other endeavours, have become too specialized, compartmentalized even.