Shakespeare's "problem plays” (Measure for Measure, All’s Well That End’s Well and Troilus and Cressida) are a tricky group within the canon. For a start the term isn’t one Shakespeare would have recognised: none of his works were advertised under that label, and when Hemminges and Condell published the First Folio, they split the plays up into Comedies, Tragedies, and Histories. But “problem play” has become a staple term of Shakespeare criticism, recognised by critics, producers and audiences alike.
The idea of a “problem play” sits naturally on the work of nineteenth century playwrights like George Bernard Shaw and Henrik Ibsen, who were avowedly tackling social problems to which there was no easy answer, at least not within a couple of hours of theatre. Applying the term to a Renaissance comedy implies that it performs a similar function, showing up problems and contradictions in society. The themes of abuse of power and gender inequality which are frequently identified in Measure for Measure are a good example. The Duke’s apparently arbitrary and irresponsible wielding of power, using the lives of his subjects for experiments and the claiming of Isabella as his wife without her consent, has often raised eyebrows. Though originally classed as a "Shakespeare comedy", the resolution of Measure for Measure lacks the celebratory tone of the final scenes of, say, Much Ado About Nothing. Watching this play, most audiences feel that Shakespeare cannot be on the side of this arbitrary, even tyrannical, ruler.
Or was he? Possibly the “problem plays” are only problematic for us, as we are brought into contact with values which make us feel uncomfortable. After all, many theatre-goers feel uneasy at the treatment meted out to Shylock at the end of The Merchant of Venice, and much of Henry V can seem embarrassingly jingoistic – a fact which Peter Brook deliberately exploited in his 1980s production, with the English army played by banner waving hooligans chanting “F*** the Frogs!” Are the “problem plays” simply the parts of Shakespeare we find unacceptable, so we label them as critiques of their own culture?
Even the more whimsical comedies have their moments of cruelty and doubt. The hilarious persecution of Malvolio in Twelfth Night has something of an edge to it; Maria sounds as if she wants out when Sir Toby explains a new twist to the torments: “Why, that will make him mad indeed.” Malvolio’s last words as he stumbles off in humiliation are certainly not cheerful: “I’ll be revenged on the whole pack of you!” Likewise, though everything is explained and two marriages arranged at the end of Mucho Ado About Nothing, the previous scenes have seen Hero denounced and attacked on her wedding day, and reduced to faking her own death to humble the lover who cast her off because he did not trust her. The conventions of comedy require a happy ending, but happy for who? Are we too uncritically accepting of Shakespeare's endings?
These plays are sometimes referred to as the “dark comedies”, which is possibly a better term, acknowledging what they have in common with the other comedies, though they lurch further towards tragedy. It would be interesting to know how these categories will have shuffled around in fifty years time though the varying emphasis of Shakespeare in peformance– will Much Ado About Nothing be performed as a damning indictment of the tyranny of chastity, and The Merchant of Venice as a critique of the selfishness and hypocrisy of the aristocracy? Whilst Shakespeare is so closely bound up with our sense of our own literary and theatrical culture, he will always tend to be recast as we prefer to see him.
Jem Bloomfield - Jem Bloomfield was educated at the universities of Oxford and Exeter, and is currently working on a PhD on Webster's revenge tragedy "The ...
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