30 Mar 2013

A Challenging Reinterpretation of "The Tempest"

Declan Donnellan’s Modern Fantasy

Directed by Declan Donnellan, this Russian version of The Tempest expands the unique imagination embedded in Shakespeare’s original words. The ensemble is not only a sincere display of the complicated humanity, but also fun and daring, challenging the audience’s usual perception of theatre and their quotidian experience. Premiered on January 26, 2011 at Théâtre Les Gemeaux in Paris, it was coproduced by Chekhov International Theatre Festival and Cheek By Jowl with the support from Théâtre Les Gemeaux. Since then, it has been touring the world and is well received by the international audience. It finally came to Asia as a key program in Taiwan International Festival of Arts in Taipei in February 2012, with an extra performance in Kaohsiung on February 25, which is the one I attended.

What should be expected when a group of Russian actors perform in Russian a Shakespeare’s play directed by an English director for the Taiwanese audience (with only few foreign audiences as I observed)? Interestingly, the local audience welcomed it and responded with a deafening applause, and their immediate reaction to the acting meant they had a good understanding of the action on the stage, even though Russian is in fact alien to them. Supertitle certainly helps resolve the language barrier between Russian and Chinese, but it simultaneously obstructs the aesthetic experience of the audience. Thus how were they captivated by this performance? Did they identify with the representation of the play? If so, what magic trick did the director do to achieve that? How did he cross the language and cultural boundary to charm and challenge his international audience?

A welcoming response from the audience indicates an effective adaptation of the original play. The adaptation entails multiple theatrical elements combined together into a creative ensemble, and its representation is all about the contemporaneity. The acting, particularly the displayed emotions through bodies rather than speech, together with the manipulation of the space and media projections construct an ambience that attracts, shocks, and directly communicates with the audience. Although the actors talk, the story is enacted through the visual representation rather than the spoken language. Indeed, this way of dealing with representation is nothing new now, but it accounts for the good reception of the Taiwanese audience who are most likely neither familiar with the Russian culture and its political reality nor the original play.

Prospero and his male fairies
© Cheek by Jowl
on the website of Bureau of Cultural Affairs Kaohsiung City Government

Juxtaposing images of contemporary quotidian experience reduces the gap between the literary text, the performance, and the audience. It affords the theatrical space sociocultural implications that further inspire the audience to talk to themselves. This feature corresponds to Shakespeare’s unique quality argued by Harold Bloom in The Western Canon. Although this approach is already a cliché in terms of the artistic practice in the theatre nowadays, his being true to tell stories about human beings inserts a strong emotional expression that makes the audience think. He remarks in the interview with Paul Heritage that producing theatre is to show “common humanity” through “the real presence of life,” and it happens that old great plays usually reveal something connecting with “apparently modern subjects.”[1] Stemming from this ideal, a modern Russian lifestyle of which he and his Russian team conceived during the lengthy rehearsal is represented. This image of modern life is made true through his unique theatre vocabulary combining multiple concepts on theatrical representation developed since modernism: Stanislavskian methods are combined with the Meyerholdian ideal to enhance a clean and precise acting, charged with both psychological and corporeal power; a hybridization of media projection, folk dance, music, and the distinctive social behavior connects Brechtian alienation with Artaudian ideal to directly confront the audience with a question of what human beings are in the twenty-first century. Considering further in terms of Fredric Jameson’s view on postmodernism in Postmodernism, or, the Cultural Logic of Late Capitalism, juxtaposition, fragmentation, and hybridization mark this performance as postmodernist, but instead of becoming total nostalgia and pastiche, the ensemble is still quite thematized, and thus innovative and challenging.

His interest in talking about humanity accounts for the emergence of thematization, and it cannot be brought into being without his absorption and modification of new artistic practice. It is this artistic intention and maneuver that revitalizes Shakespeare’s aged play to mirror the cold, distant, and confused human relations, criticizing the loss of humanity in the now late capitalist culture. The mature acting mould a real presence of life on the stage, saving this production from becoming a “deadly theatre” as criticized by Peter Brook in The Empty Space. In fact, in response to Aleks Sierz’s question of turning something dead into alive, he elaborates that performers are responsible for “death” because their “self-deception” forces the audience to put up with “the inauthentic” rather than experience “the chase for the living moment,” and therefore, rehearsal is crucial for him to “minimize the effects of death.”[2] But what is authentic in this chase for the living moment? How does he represent that? Exploring these questions means to look deeper into both the structure and content in which certain sociocultural values must be detailed for the audience have acknowledged them in their warm embrace.

In Donnellan’s hands, Miranda is the only female character whose personality has been drastically changed. She is now a wild child who knows nothing about the human society; however, she is never innocent. Her interaction with the horrendous Caliban indicates an abnormal relationship, and her sympathy for Caliban has become a bizarre affection. It can be understood since she grows up with him on that isolated island without having seen any other men other than her father and Caliban. Where there are no other men for comparison, her adolescent sexual drive naturally targets on Caliban, who more obviously shows his. Her crazy behavior reveals a lack of upbringing, and this arrangement is more logical comparing with that formal, restricted, and lady-like image in the original play.

Her frenzy is a twisted humanity nourished by her father’s indignation against Antonio and Caliban’s hatred and self-pity. When frenzy becomes normality due to the total lack of social norms, her addiction to the newly found things (man in this case) only reinforces her crazy behavior, while the frustration from not having the handsome Ferdinand (due to her father’s inference) further brings about her schizophrenia. Her adolescent sexual drive has taken over her, becoming an insatiate desire and addiction. Such addiction and schizophrenia are no different from the dilemma modern men face today, though the frustration of the latter, as Anthony Giddens observes in The Transformation of Intimacy, comes from an overwhelming social change forcing one to reconcile based on self-identity to decision-making on lifestyles. This corresponds to Jameson’s comment on consumer society in which a free choice is never really free. With the double effects from the market and consumption, the suffering of delusion and paranoia from insatiate desire accounts for that now obvious schizophrenic lifestyle. This new image of Miranda reveals the suppressed human animality, ironically making her more human because it is an exposure of that suppressed modern schizophrenic mental state. Under the surface of modern life exists the crazy craving that disguises itself as a cold mask, but the experienced inner contradiction from decision-making only produces paranoia and delusion. At least she is bold enough to show herself. Her actions become a subtle criticism of modern lifestyle, and her frenzy mocks at those true schizophrenics hiding in the dark in the auditorium.

Miranda (centre) and Caliban (right)
© Cheek by Jowl
on the website of Cheek by Jowl

This enactment of schizophrenic syndrome corresponds to Artaud’s second manifesto for the theatre of cruelty in The Theatre and Its Double. He sees theatre as a place of physical expressions where the audience must be forced to experience the true reality and humanity so as to achieve a kind of moral purification. This ideal is embedded in the scene right before the celebration of the unity of Miranda and Ferdinand. She strips to her waist and he completely naked. This naked scene, which shocks the audience no more, implies their transformation to a new identity: she is no longer a wild kid but a lady with the joy of the coming marriage; for him, a transformation from a dandy womanizer to a loyal and loving husband. When lines are only spoken by characters, the story still belongs to the realm of the text, which is rejected by Artaud due to its result of a false reality that only leads the audience to complacency. This identification of the socio-political function of theatre’s visual representation aims at the active participation of the audience, and it can only be achieved through a sincerely display of real bodies and objects. It is further realized in the scene where Antonio plotted with Alonso against Prospero. The original play follows the neoclassical structure, and the three unities forbid the actual performance of incidents outside of the structured time and place. This rule is broken here by an actual performance of this vile event, forcing the audience to experience the dark side of humanity. Although Donnellan’s arrangement of this sub-plot and Miranda’s frenzy does not reach the level of shocking or frightening as desired by Artaud, the performance highlights the unique personalities of characters to enrich the theatrical representation, making the production more easily received by the audience who are unfamiliar with this play and the Russian language.

Nakedness exhibits the beauty of human bodies and generates pleasure, but this is broken by Ferdinand’s walking off the stage to the auditorium due to his sudden anger at Prospero’s demand for his complete moderation. The more interesting here is the coming out of the stage crew to check what has happened. The whole scene lasts shortly, and when Ferdinand is irritated by Prospero’s nagging, he actually leaves his character and becomes himself. This attitude change is swift, and the appearance of the stage crew in fact interrupts the illusion of the audience. Obviously Donnellan follows the Brechtian Verfremdungseffekt, but its use here reveals the “pastiche” feature of postmodernist art, which according to Jameson is an imitation of style without an ulterior motive. The reason for giving this scene is obscure: could it be intended simply to break the pleasurable illusion, or is it used to call for an explanation of Prospero’s nagging? None of the characters, including that stage crew, engages in a direct addressing to the audience even though they have temporarily broken off imitation. As a principle of Brecht’s epic theatre recorded in Brecht on Theatre, this distancing aims to inspire the audience to criticize constructively from a social point of view. Without an ulterior motive, the style is only an empty form, and this scene becomes what Jameson calls a “play of random stylistic allusion” that reflects the addiction in postmodern culture for “spectacles” or “simulacrum.”[3] Brecht becomes a code here signifying the heterogeneous, depthless, and fragmented nature of postmodernist arts.

Although this obvious flaw jeopardizes the representation, the manipulation of the theatrical space and the directorial arrangement save the performance from becoming completely depthless. The performing space is delimited to a comparatively small and almost empty rectangular platform in the middle of the stage. Main events happen within this space, in which Nick Ormerod designs three doors at the back as the entrance/exit for human characters (spirits travel freely without using doors). Also showed here are creative actions, such as hanging Ferdinand upside down behind the central door to signify his floating in the sea after the shipwreck. When the spirits play music, they walk along the edge of this space, obviously showing the boundary between imagination and reality. Hence the reproduced social relations in this delimited performing space are emphasized, and the performing bodies continuously remind the audience that everything is imaginary. This fosters a mental recognition of the difference, which shift the attention of the audience from the storyline to the power relationship between characters. In The Production of Space, Henri Lefebvre asserts that difference and proximity turn the abstract space, or the theatre space, into one that is in the mode of production, and this mental exercise repositions the spatial practice of the audience from a passive observer to an active one who in fact redefines symbolically the meaning of this performing space.

This spatial practice is Brechtian, though without truly following Brecht’s principle. It is reinforced in the use of a raised hidden platform behind the top of the background where Prospero oversees actions and showing his domination of the island, also an intersection of knowledge and power. But what is more interesting is Ariel’s (as a man in this production) use of this spot. As a dominated role with very limited knowledge of the human world, his presence there shows his longing for freedom, his curiosity about human, and his status as a detached observer of humanity. His gradual understanding of social relations by means of his alienation from the main scene slowly makes him more sensible than those who are submerged in the reproduced vileness, greed, and rage. Therefore, his attitude and action to other characters, such as his despising Caliban, Trinculo, and Stephano, as well as his teasing of Antonio, Sebastian, and Alonso, are no longer about the execution of Prospero’s orders, but his own criticism of their twisted humanity. Obviously Artaud, Brecht, and Donnellan all share the concept of making theatre a means to stimulate and inspire by preventing complacency resulting from false theatrical illusions. Artaud shocks them, while Brecht distances and then talks to them directly. Donnellan modifies and combines both: Artaudian actions are integrated into a Brechtian space where the audience are made a part of the formulation of the uneasy social truth. This practice not only permits messages concerning contemporary lifestyles to be planted in harmony with a fantasy world of magic, but also encourages the audience to talk to themselves in their participation in an imagination of renewing existing social relations.

Ariel as the role of the audience is seen again in the scene when Ferdinand is busy moving wood logs while talking to Miranda. Ariel replaces Prospero to be the hidden observer of the lovers, and he is the actual wood log carried by Ferdinand. Not only does he overhear the conversation, he also communicates directly with the audience through his facial expression. Though not a confrontation, a wink tells this scene from pastiche because his function to supervise and his intention to mock afford the form with content. This double representation – both a character and an object, and both a character and an audience – endows the scene of lovers’ courting with a light and funny ambience, strengthening the comic nature of this play. Ariel’s stiff body is an imitation of the wood log, and this body is full of force coming from the tense but well-controlled muscles. The flexible use of the body as well as the emotional expression are a result of a serious acting training that illuminates the Russian acting tradition set up by Stanislavsky and Meyerhold. The physical force of the male body represents the firm, heavy, and coarse texture of woods, and this use of the male body echoes with Meyerhold’s ideal actor who has perfected his biomechanics, which requires performers to present the fine texture of the performed object or character through precise postures and rhythmic movements. But the very subtle display of emotions on the actor’s face clearly points to the Method of Stanislavsky, whose performers execute correct physical actions that immediately generate the required emotional conditions. Donnellan’s harmonious combination of the two related approaches allows this double representation to take control of the theatricality, eschewing a dull representation of courting.

Ferdinand carrying Ariel, the woodlog
© Johan Persson
on the website of 2012 Taiwan International Festival of Arts

According to Donnellan in his elaboration of the Stankslavskian acting system in The Actor and the Target, acting training is an exploration of the character rather than becoming the character. In the above-mentioned scene, the male actor is neither Ariel nor the wood log, but one equipped with features of both, also one travelling across the boundary between the self, the character, and the position of the audience. In Fifty Key Theatre Directors, Maria Shevtsova observes that this target training guides his performers to look at the outside world instead of searching from their own memories or experiences, through which they find a target – something concrete they have observed or found in their exploration of the character – that helps them raise a question about and make a decision on portraying the true personality of the character. Miranda’s frenzy and schizophrenic behavior exemplifies this training. It also affords his performers the ability to travel freely between the character and the self, as seen in Ferdinand and Ariel. In other words, Donnellan’s target training helps performers exhibit true humanity, more complicated and self-contradictory, and this exhibition of humanity corresponds to Shakespeare’s original intention.

Another example of this use of target method in building up a scene is the actual performance of the conspiracy between Antonio and Alonso to usurp the dukedom of Prospero. The conspiracy is treated as a target by Prospero and Miranda whose emotional expressions not only highlight the vicious nature of this incident but also legitimize Prospero’s vengeance. Through Prospero’s magic, this scene becomes a play within a play. The vicious mind and the cunning behavior are not directly shown through Antonio and Alonso. Their interaction on the stage tells what had happened rather than perform the stereotyped features of bad guys. It is Prospero’s rage and disappointment that reveals their cunning, and also the intimidated response of Miranda that bestows the viciousness on them. With mature and powerful acting, the representation of this terrible memory once again corresponds to Artaudian and Brechtian ideal, and its form further resembles the technique of Montage in films. The overlap and juxtaposition of scenic spaces details the reason of Prospero’s revenge, which in return helps the audience perceive better the goodness in humanity in the end when Prospero relinquishes his hatred.

Originally, this scene is planned to quickly tell the background, but Donnellan expands it to become a play within a play, highlighting the notion of magical fantasy and the emotional intensity. Juxtaposition in Jameson’s criticism is a distinct feature of the postmodernist artistic practice. It rejects the dominant position of masterpiece and the inevitable thematization, which generates a totality of meaning intrinsically in opposition to the nature of postmodernist reproduction in which meanings should be liberated rather than transmitted linearly in the sociocultural context of communication. Its aesthetic value resides in creation as a process of reproduction that allows the audience to take up the position as the author and afford the work multitudinous meanings. Roland Barthes remarks in Roland Barthes par Roland Barthes that it is the presence of the body that makes theatre attractive, not the representation constructed through words. Hence in this scene the juxtaposition of bodies in different layers of representation not only exhibits the negative feature of humanity that is both archaic and modern, but also exemplifies the postmodernist aesthetics. Rather than directly tell the audience that this is a conspiracy, performers vividly show what lies behind this conspiracy: rage, disappointment, sadness, jealousy, deception, cunning, greed, intimidation, and fear. The simultaneous presence of bodies and emotions forms a strong theatricality that speaks for the postmodernist textualization as well as the authorship of the audience.

Juxtaposing multifarious presence is more clearly revealed against the large and oppressive projections, which turn a scene into an ambiguous battlefield in which interrelated sociocultural messages co-exist. When the drunken Stephano and the jester Trinculo are both charmed by Ariel, the projection of a high-fashion boutique cooperates with a garment rack full of trendy clothes and the credit card terminal to represent our modern consumer society. Following Artaudian and Brechtian concept, it should force the audience to confront with their own material desire and the schizophrenic behavior to seek and own the latest fashion. However, the comic acting complicates this representation and affords it with another contradictory meaning. Although the exaggerated greed and delusion pinpoint a schizophrenic mental state that at the same time mirrors the modern consumers, their hallucinated bodies in fact confirm the pleasure of consumption. With this comic acting, they become delusional but content and powerful but frightened. The criticism on modern lifestyle is suddenly bereft of its seriousness and replaced with a lighthearted ambiance to celebrate the late capitalist consumption. This ambiguity indicates the demanded open meaning in the postmodernist aesthetics, and the scene only displays a condition that has never been concluded. Hence the representation, when viewed in terms of the concept of totality, becomes a simulacrum and also a fragment in the process of reproduction.

This ambiguity has been criticized as the problem of the postmodernist representation in which nothing except a depthless image is provided. Certainly theatre should be more than a shallow image, and Donnellan’s incorporation of thematization into the postmodernist contextualization marks his awareness of this problem. A sincere exhibition of humanity is his antidote, and among all characters, Trinculo’s effeminate personality and stereotyped camp gestures are particularly striking for this character implies the sociocultural view of homosexuality. A sensitive audience would have sensed a homosexual stance when seeing an all-male cast, although using males to present spirits without altering their names may intend to tell that they are originally asexual. In her analysis of this arrangement of an all-male cast in As You Like It (1991), Shevtsova believes that it is neither a Shakespearean convention nor gay pride, but “a celebration of sex and gender ambiguities and of love.”[4] But in this performance the reference to homosexuality cannot be easily ignored or replaced with a general concept of love. Giddens remarks that the representation of sex and sexual orientation is always an expression of power relations, and Jameson also states that homosexuality is one of the key concerns and always a political issue thematized abstractly and artistically for re-examination in postmodernist art. In Donnellan’s hands, camp is transformed into an “aesthetic sense,” and as analyzed by Susan Sontag, this aesthetic sense “neutralizes moral indignation,” “sponsors playfulness,” and the more important is that it makes possible the integration of homosexuality into society.[5]

Camp Trinculo (left) and drunken Stephano (right)
© Johan Persson
on the website of 2012 Taiwan International Festival of Arts

When considered in terms of comic effects, Trinculo’s exaggerated camp gestures certainly contribute to the absurd expression of this character. Gay, with its historical background of being repressed, has now been unavoidable in contemporary culture. Although there are counter-voices, primarily based on the biased religious moral condemnation, pop culture is inseparable from gay culture. Since Trinculo’s being gay is too obvious, the projection of homosexuality between other characters becomes highly possible. These possible homosexual relationships are not explicitly expressed, but the interaction between performers signifies a relationship that is beyond friendship. Implying homosexual relationships is also a mediator to balance Trinculo’s overly stereotyped gay image, preventing the portrayed gay feature from becoming a naïve mockery of gay culture. While Trinculo is flamboyant and feminine (a twink), Stephano is a rugged man with dominant and violent demeanor (a bear). By paring them up as a couple-like duo, not only is this homosexual relationship implied, popular fantasized sadomasochism (master/slave) in the gay sub-culture is also hinted. Although no physical intimacy is shown, Trinculo’s interaction with Stephano turns him into a hysterical and intimidated lover who in fact enjoys his inferior position.

This dominant-dominated relationship is hinted again and linked with the Electra complex between Prospero and Ariel. When Ariel asks Prospero whether or not he is loved, his deep affection for Prospero – which is unique since he is a spirit without sex and humanity – highlights his vulnerable position against Prospero’s dominant father-like figure. This affection obscures his total obedience to Prospero’s cruelty. Redefining the relationship between characters becomes a technique for Donnellan to modernize this play. Antonio is still vicious and cunning, but when he confronts Sebastian with the intended murder of Alonso, his sudden tenderness reveals his caring for Sebastian. Both are young, handsome, manly, and single, but Sebastian submits willingly to Antonio. The interaction between the two not only indicates their intimacy but further brings about that dominant-dominated relationship. Antonio’s physical threatening at the end seems to produce a violent kiss on the stage. It may be a visual illusion due to the angle from my seat, but their physical contact is charged with a distinct sexual tension.

Camp gestures, the implied homosexuality, and the tension from power relations are clearly thematized, but thematization contrasts with the postmodernist aesthetics as observed by Jameson. In Donnellan’s hands, this contradiction becomes a unique aesthetic hybridization. Considering in terms of the postmodernist intertextuality and contextualization, this thematization in fact pinpoints the postmodernist feature since it is positioned at the same level as other artistic means, styles, and media in the production of representation. It is this use of thematization that minimizes the problem of fragmentation and the consequent depthless or meaningless display of simulacrum. However, fragmentation is inevitable when thematization is no longer considered the only purpose and end result for art, and it complicates meanings in the representation when the applied media are essentially equipped with a strong historical allusion and cultural significance. As seen in the end when the union of Miranda and Ferdinand is celebrated, the festive ambience of the celebration is incompatible with the projections that are essentially political and nostalgic.

This celebration is a kaleidoscopic visual spectacle. The used projections include a documentary of a ceremonial military parade before the disintegration of the Russian Communist regime and a clip from the communist propaganda film showing the festive mood in a good harvest on the field. Obviously both projections deliver the message of joy and celebration, and the harvest corresponds with the presence of the goddesses of marriage and fertility (all males). However, the nature of both projections is political, and their political stance is intertwined with the nostalgic ambience, which is in contrast with the representation of a contemporary lifestyle that is constructed by a schizophrenic and complicated human relation. That nostalgic ambience indicates that life is better in the old days, and this concern has been introduced earlier when one character uses his socks – one with a hole, while the other is intact – to imply the economic inequality in modern Russia. But the actual performance of this celebration speaks for the triumph of modern Russia in which one is free from political suppression and is capable of pursuing happiness through money and free will. These two messages are parallel and contradictory. One celebrates contemporaneity, while the other looks back at the communist society, but none of which is subordinated to the other since both are simply displayed without any historical allusions being clearly uttered.

Right after the projections comes a traditional Russian folk dance. This folk dance complicates the already ambiguous scene and clearly shows the problem of postmodernist representation. It is intended to strengthen the festive mood and tell the audience that this is Russian (traditional clothes and dance movements), but the disco tempo and lighting and the psychedelic projection at the background cancel the reference to traditional Russian culture, generating a happy, lively but overwhelmingly strange ambience. Although the dance is executed perfectly, the sudden appearance of this ambience isolates it from the projection and the acting. The dance becomes a decoration that alters the appearance of traditional Russian culture. The whole scene is a hybridity that shows a glossy but specious image of Russia in which nothing is confirmed except confusion and uncertainty. This new image breaks the totality of the scene, and meanings depend on how the audience will it. According to Jerrold Levinson, there is a thin line between artistic hybridization and arbitrary melange. He clarifies that the former is a creative play of symbols for “an image of richness and complexity” and for “the one” to be seen in the many, while the latter produces “a kind of cognitive overload,” resulting in a failure of representation.[6] Because of fragmentation, the representation is only a simulacrum, which in Jameson’s view is “an allusion to a present out of real history” and also “a past removed from real history.”[7] This problem can be accounted for in terms of the preference for spectacle (to show a glamorous modern lifestyle) and the rejection of totality (to confirm meaning as essentially boundless). Although Donnellan has been using thematization to pinpoint his perspective on humanity and human relations, when it comes to the scene for celebration, he falls into the trap of the postmodernist practice. The whole scene is thus decentered due to “a radically different practice of signs,”[8] which defamiliarizes the aesthetic experience of the audience, forming a structural distraction that sees the representation as a sheer depthless image.

The celebrating dance
© Johan Persson
on the website of 2012 Taiwan International Festival of Arts

Suddenly lighting up the stage and the auditorium stops this visual spectacle and breaks the confusion or illusion, and it further cancels any possible representation. Not surprisingly, this postmodernist artistic practice owes its debt to Brecht. The sudden interruption forces the audience to acknowledge that they are witnessing an actual cultural production. However, the multiple messages embedded in this scene create a problem for interpretation. Neither Artaud nor Brecht proposes a theatre without a theme. Their theatre is highly political with an ideal to make changes to both artistic practice and the reality. It is absent here, and the postmodernist ideology obviously overpowers the modernist one. It cannot be denied that the postmodernist artistic practice gives a new look to this old play, but it also confirms the criticism made by Jameson. Does not this fragmentary representation together with the co-existing messages resemble the contemporary schizophrenic lifestyle? Interestingly, thematization still exists in other parts of this performance, and it maintains an effective representation, conveying certain sociocultural messages that need to be looked at. It results from Donnellan’s intention to talk about humanity, and this approach in fact fixes the problem of the postmodernist representation. It would have been more challenging if this thematization was carried through in the display of the mental conflict in that visual spectacle combining the image of traditional, communist, and modern Russia. This thematization is the reason why Donnellan’s postmodernist production can still be true to Shakespeare, and thus somewhat unfit for Jameson’s paradigm of postmodernist arts.

[1]  Declan Donnellan, Nick Ormerod, and Paul Heritage, “Declan Donnellan and Nick Ormerod,” in In Contact with the Gods?: Directors Talk Theatre, eds. Maria M. Delgado and Paul Heritage, 79-92 (Manchester: Manchester University Press,1996), 84-5.
[2]  Declan Donnellan and Aleks Sierz, “Declan Donnellan and Cheek by Jowl: to Protect the Acting,” in Contemporary European Theatre Directors, eds. Maria M. Delgado and Dab Rabellato ,145-164 (Abingdon, Oxon: Routledge, 2010), 158.
[3]  Fredric Jameson, Postmodernism, or, The Cultural Logic of Late Capitalism (Durham: Duke University Press, 1991), 18.
[4]  Maria Shevtsova, “Declan Donnellan,” in Fifty Key Theatre Directors, eds. Shomit Mitter and Maria Shevtsova, 231-236 (Abingdon, Oxon: Routledge, 2005), 233.
[5]  Susan Sontag, “Notes on Camp,” in Against Interpretation, 275-292 (London: Vintage, 2001), 290.
[6]  Jerrold Levinson, “Hybrid Art Forms,” Journal of Aesthetic Education 18, no. 4 (winter 1984): 11-3.
[7]  Jameson, Postmodernism, 118.
[8]  Ibid., 123.

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