Before I begin, I must make one thing clear: there is an undeniable appeal in the big-budget Shakespeare adaptations. There’s just something so captivating about the aesthetic beauty of Kenneth Branagh’s 1996 version of Hamlet, or the ambition of the BBC’s adaptation of the two tetralogies in The Hollow Crown (2012-6). But if you want ‘authenticity’, these are probably not the best places to find it.

There’s an argument for recreating the plays adhering to the original performance practices as much as possible, and we often see productions such as Wilson Milam’s 2007 version of Othello embracing more traditional methods, in terms of set and staging. But even when we perform Shakespeare in our modern recreation of the Globe with what we imagine to be more accurate outfits, we fail to stick to an entirely ‘authentic’ template. Let’s not forget that Shakespeare was writing for men and boys. Thankfully, the days of all-male professional productions have been confined to the past.

Therefore, our ‘authentic’ productions of Shakespeare are probably about as far from what the Bard imagined as Baz Luhrmann’s Romeo & Juliet, but at least that was ambitious. ‘Authentic’ productions can sometimes, I fear, feel a bit dry.

“The key to keeping Shakespeare alive is to modernise”

The key to keeping Shakespeare alive is to modernise. I do not mean that we need a string of recreations of 10 Things I Hate About You, but ‘Shakespeare as Shakespeare wrote it’ has been impossible since we realised that there is no master text of any of his plays. So why can’t we get a bit creative?

The popularity of Brigid Lamour’s The Merchant of Venice (1936) really shows the power of what modernising and developing Shakespeare can do. Starring Tracy Ann Oberman as Shylock and centralising the personal struggles of her character, this production humanises Shakespeare’s most problematic creation and sends an urgent message to an era facing the same divisions that caused the Battle of Cable Street nearly ninety years ago.

But even that adaptation is flashier than what was possible on any Renaissance stage. So how do we capture the spirit of Shakespeare? I think I know.

Since coming to Cambridge, I have noted that Camdram’s biggest asset is its adaptations of Shakespeare plays. Maybe it’s the compulsory paper on the English Tripos, or maybe it is the enduring spell that he casts over us, but we cannot escape his majesty. And it seems that we are quite good at recreating it.

Lent Term kicked off with A Midsummer Night’s Dream, a production by the European Theatre Group, which probably faced many of the same challenges as the original actors. Not least in the fact that the number of characters in a Shakespeare play can be unwieldy. Instead of a large group of Mechanics, for example, only Quince (Sameera Bowers) and Bottom (H Sneyd) appeared on stage, with Puck (Margaret Saunderson) drafted in for the performance of Pyramus and Thisbe. Rather than allowing this to encumber the play, the Mechanics’ scenes were absolute gold. Furthermore, there was something of the Renaissance clown in Sneyd’s performance. Although probably not as spontaneous as the popular songs sung by the likes of Will Kemp, Bottom appearing on stage singing his name to the chorus of Chappell Roan’s ‘HOT TO GO!’ perfectly captured the spirit of the part.

“The use of the chapel as a space for performance has also forced greater creativity from many of the productions”

The use of the chapel as a space for performance has also forced greater creativity from many of the productions. Last term’s stellar production of Timon of Athens at Trinity Chapel set one of Shakespeare’s most complex plays within the dark, brooding atmosphere of the religious space. This allowed the performers to explore the complexities of the imposition of Judeo-Christian values upon a period in which they meant nothing.

More importantly, however, as a student production it was unafraid to defy the all-male character list. Smaller pools of actors necessitate flexibility with the gender of the roles. Timon is an amazing play, but a gender-literal production has a remarkable lack of substantial female roles.

Timon was a tight, well-rehearsed production, but sometimes Cambridge theatre can be a bit more chaotic. That’s something that the Fletcher Players Society managed to embrace to their advantage in their production of As You Like It. With something of the shambolic school production about it, this dreamy, haphazard play became an absolute triumph because of its enthusiastic cast and its clear vision.

Quite frankly, I don’t think that Shakespeare would mind what we do with his plays, were he alive now. He was always experimental, and each generation’s new perspective – whether in small-scale amateur productions, or grand blockbusters – resurrects the timeless themes he handles so deftly. Perhaps student theatre catches his spirit most closely, but what matters is that we keep these plays relevant and alive. More than anything, I think that he would just be glad that we’ve succeeded in that task for so long.

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