‘Time to Listen!’: Emilia/& Juliet — when early modern women talk back
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NOTE: This article contains detailed descriptions and spoilers of the plot and characters of both Emilia and & Juliet.
We closed off the last decade with two productions that were influenced, rather than written, by Shakespeare. In 2018, Emilia hit the Shakespeare’s Globe Theatre stage. Morgan Lloyd Malcolm’s protagonist became every woman, embodying their collective anger, and social media responded. Emilia was established as essential viewing, working as a manifesto for a feminist revolution. The act of writing back across textual boundaries functioned as historical recuperation, placing the textual memories of the real Emilia Bassano into the bodies of modern women.
The 2019 West End show & Juliet — neon pink, glitter-accented, and set to a soundtrack of teen-pop classics — might seem to be an unlikely counterpart to Emilia. However, David West Read’s jukebox musical, based on the chart-topping back catalogue of Max Martin, is just that. Asking ‘What if Juliet’s famous ending was really just her beginning? What if she decided to choose her own fate?’,¹ Shakespeare’s Juliet — with the assistance of a historically fictionalized Anne Hathaway — has the chance to rewrite her future without Romeo. Like Emilia, & Juliet places early modern women in conversation with both a modern audience and Shakespeare himself.
This article, based on a conference paper I presented at the London Shakespeare Centre and Shakespeare’s Globe Theatre Graduate Conference at King’s College London in February 2020, considers what happens when these women are adapted for the stage and reach out across time borders. There’s a lot to unpack in both of these productions — in particular, how the role of the historically fictionalised Shakespeare in both Emilia and & Juliet acts to silence early modern women.
In & Juliet, Oliver Thompsett as Shakespeare enters in rock star fashion through the stage to the Backstreet Boys’ ‘Larger than Life’ and welcomes the audience to the ‘opening night’ of Romeo and Juliet. With skin-tight jeans, a jacket emblazoned with a black-crow motif, and clutching hastily finished pages, he’s a walking cliché — drawing on a number of fictionalized Shakespeares from Shakespeare in Love’s (1998) Joseph Fiennes to Upstart Crow’s (2016-) David Mitchell. He’s arrogant and self-absorbed: he bristles at anyone criticizing his writing and the thought of collaborative writing is an anathema — claiming to ‘always write alone’, complete with a knowing look to the audience. And, much as the wider musical appropriates lines from the ‘real’ Shakespeare’s plays, this Shakespeare knowingly self-quotes.
& Juliet is promoted as ‘[t]he most famous love story of all time. Remixed’² — but the extent to which that is true for the core Romeo and Juliet story is debatable. Essentially, & Juliet only changes the end of Shakespeare’s original. In the opening scene, Will (as Shakespeare is usually addressed in & Juliet) dramatically recounts how ‘Juliet plunges Romeo’s dagger into her heart’ to be interrupted by a discontented Anne Hathaway (Cassidy Janson): ‘What if Juliet didn’t kill herself?’ she asks, ‘I mean, really that should almost be the start of the play’.
And the start of the play-within-a-play it is; save for Juliet’s ultimate death, the original still stands. This is a sequel, not a rewrite. Yes, we track a lot of the original plot — there’s a ball, and Juliet gets engaged to a stranger. The familiar refrain of Britney Spears’s ‘Oops!… I Did It Again!’ when sung by Juliet to acknowledge that, yet again, she has acted hastily raises a laugh and simultaneously undermines the re-write — moving us away from remixing history towards history repeating itself. Ultimately, once Will brings Romeo (Jordan Luke Gage) back from the dead in a bid to have his own version of Juliet’s predetermined fate play out, there’s only one love story for Juliet — albeit a Juliet for a modern age who, rather than rushing into marriage with Romeo, proposes a first date. There is a lovely symmetry to & Juliet, which ends with Juliet asking for a ‘new beginning for Juliet and her Romeo’ — with their names in that order as that’s how Juliet wants it. But those aren’t her words — it’s not her decision, but rather a clear parallel to the final line of Shakespeare’s play.
If I’m totally honest, I’m not sold on the ‘Juliet and her Romeo’ happy ending. This Romeo is, to quote Anne, ‘a douche’ written in Will’s image, ‘both alike in dignity’. As Romeo admits, he’s little more than a ‘sexy young man with a tight body’ and is a bit of a player with seemingly everybody in Verona (male or female) having been romantically involved with him at some point. The little he does to win back Juliet is controlled by Will — arguably driven by Will’s desire for his own narrative voice to overpower Anne’s.
I would suggest that, despite Juliet getting top billing as the eponymous heroine, this is not really her story at all, but Anne Hathaway’s. Anne and Will write themselves into Juliet’s story, simultaneously performing both as themselves and in roles in their play-within-a-play. Anne creates for herself the role of April, Juliet’s friend and confidante, and Will writes for himself a series of bit parts: bus driver, DJ, barman. The joke is seemingly that Will is reduced to the status of spear carrier in his own production as Anne takes the lead. I have issues with this narrative — essentially, we’re supposed to laugh at the arrogant Will in a much-depleted role. But there is something else at play here. Will is effectively writing himself into Anne’s narrative, undermining her self-expression. He’s always there.
Alongside their self-penned fictional roles, they step out of the play and add wider context. Anne has a moving soliloquy, where she notes that Will was really wedded to his work and never wrote anything specifically for her or portrayed happy marriages. But this is itself undermined. Will interrupts, denying her the opportunity to address the audience directly, downgrading her soliloquy to an aside, and promising her that his next play will have a happy marriage — only to reveal its title: Macbeth. Is it perhaps Anne’s story that she herself seeks to remix, cautioning Juliet against rushing into marriage?
For the entirely fictional characters, the story largely ends positively, with a wedding, parental approval, and the rekindling of Romeo and Juliet’s love. However, the ‘real’ characters Will and Anne don’t share the happily-ever-after ending. In a musical ostensibly about empowering women, Anne remains silenced, her efforts to rewrite Juliet’s story undermined by Will every step of the way. In a final argument, Anne rebuts Will’s declarations of love — ‘it’s all words, words, words with you, Will’ — an adaptation of course of a line from Hamlet. Even in her anger she only has the words Will has given her. He follows this with a knowing lie — ‘I love you with so much of my heart, there will never be another Anne Hathaway’ — coupled with another knowing wink to the audience, inviting them into his wry deception. We know from Anne’s earlier soliloquy that she never gets her play, and she is left the second-best bed. It’s an uncomfortable ending. Amid the glitter and high-octane song-and-dance routines, Anne’s story remains unchanged — she remains silenced.
In Lloyd Malcolm’s Emilia, Shakespeare is similarly revealed to be, to borrow a phrase from Anne, a douche. Charity Wakefield’s Shakespeare shares many of the same clichéd character traits as Thompsett’s Will in & Juliet — a self-belief edging towards arrogance and a tendency towards eleventh-hour writing. As with & Juliet, Shakespeare is shown in a battle of quills with a woman — in this case, Emilia.
It is perhaps fitting that their first exchange is taken from The Taming of the Shrew, Shakespeare and Emilia sparring with a close adaptation of the wasp’s sting word play from Act 2 Scene 1 of Shrew. Framing Emilia and Shakespeare’s first conversation as a parallel to that of Katherine and Petruchio is noteworthy, instantly bringing the uncomfortable gender politics of Shrew into Emilia. Is Emilia’s spark perhaps framed as something to be tamed and controlled by a creatively deficient Shakespeare, much as a fiscally deficient Petruchio woos the wealthy Katherine?
Emilia 1 (Leah Harvey/Saffron Coomber) in this scene, is an equal — identifying herself as a poet equivalent to Shakespeare:
EMILIA 1:I hear you are a poet.
SHAKESPEARE: I am.
EMILIA 1: Me too
SHAKESPEARE: You write?
EMILIA 1: I do.
An exchange of poetry follows, with Emilia offering to Shakespeare lines that the audience would likely be aware are taken from Love’s Labour’s Lost and Romeo and Juliet — plays which, within the timeline of Emilia, are yet to be written.
As the relationship between Emilia and Shakespeare develops, we see this dynamic evolve. It’s important to note that, at the time of their first meeting, Shakespeare is at the start of his playwriting career. But as his fame rises, it is at the expense of Emilia and her work. There is a duality at play: Emilia is increasingly seen in her role of mother, wife and lover — Lloyd Malcolm’s stage direction is particularly poignant:
EMILIA 1 tries to nurse her child but the MIDWIFE is constantly taking him from her. She is also desperately trying to write. She is also torn by her love of SHAKESPEARE and he distracts her from her mothering AND her work.
Emilia’s writing is something that is not given the time or space it needs and is portrayed as domesticated. In contrast, Shakespeare’s work is protected and promoted. Lord Carey (Carolyn Pickles) cautions Emilia against distracting Shakespeare: ‘He’s making a name for himself. You wouldn’t want to ruin that for him would you? […] He has talent. Talent doesn’t need distraction’. Emilia too is cautious of her impact on Shakespeare’s work: ‘I dare not be the reason your play is late’.
However, Emilia is not afforded the same respect. Carey belittles her writing as a ‘hobby’ and treats her suggestion that he ‘consider something of […hers] for [… his] men’ as a joke. Similarly, Shakespeare readily accepts that society won’t permit Emilia to be a playwright while acknowledging that she has the ability, telling her ‘You have your own talents my love. If you strive you can achieve the same as I […] Perhaps not exactly as I do but no one can stop you from writing’. Emilia’s creative expression is something that should be kept within the home — for private rather than public enjoyment.
Or is it? As Lloyd Malcolm’s play develops, Shakespeare increasingly appropriates Emilia’s words as his own. Knowingly at first — in respect of Love’s Labour’s Lost, he invites Emilia to come and see the play telling her: ‘You will recognise your own words upon the stage […] though it is my name up there you will know that it is your inspiration that is being laid bare’. However, at the turning point of play in the final scene before the interval, Shakespeare denies Emilia’s role in his writing. Emilia and Shakespeare have argued after the death of their child, with Emilia responding to Shakespeare’s insistence on female frailty with words taken from Othello — specifically the lines spoken by that play’s Emilia to Desdemona before her death. Two scenes later, Emilia 2 (Vinette Robinson/Adelle Leonce) is at the Globe Theatre watching Shakespeare’s latest, Othello. Shakespeare diminishes Emilia’s role when challenged: ‘You were happy to use my words’, Emilia accuses. ‘They aren’t yours. No one owns words’, Shakespeare retorts, ‘I have the talent to recognise phrases or speeches that can be used, and I craft them’. Emilia’s writing is denied, her words claimed by and presented as Shakespeare’s. She is silenced — Shakespeare’s Emilia assuming her name, identity and expression.
As with & Juliet, Emilia ends on a seemingly uplifting note. Lloyd Malcolm writes for Emilia 3 (Clare Perkins) a powerful closing speech urging audience members to ‘burn the whole fucking house down’, to ‘take the fire as [their] own’. But as with & Juliet’s Anne Hathaway, it’s an intended uncomfortable ending. We know the real Emilia Bassano was silenced and that her work went largely unknown. Is this historic recuperation through Emilia enough to give the real Emilia Bassano a voice? It’s too early to say. However, Lloyd Malcolm’s Emilia urges modern women to ‘look how far we’ve come already. Don’t stop now’. And I would argue that, in all its neon-pink and glitter accented fun, & Juliet has taken that fire and acts as a platform for early modern women to talk back.
To celebrate International Women’s Day on 8 March 2021, the archive recording of Emilia’s, filmed during the play’s transfer to the Vaudeville Theatre in May 2019, will be available to stream online from 1–31 March 2021. Access to the stream can be purchased at EmiliaLive.com.
There are currently plans for & Juliet to reopen at the Shaftesbury Theatre on Friday 28 May 2021; however, with theatres remaining dark for the foreseeable future, this date is subject to change.
