Shakespeare has been a series of bookmarks in my life since a dismal introduction in high school. Not only did I survive that lifeless effort, but through books like A Thousand Acres and movies like Ran, I discovered that these stories need to be told and retold.
Just after Westen was born, Mary and I took him to DelShakes‘ production of Twelfth Night. Almost nine years later, I took him to Resident Ensemble Players’ rendition. This time he didn’t sleep through it, had a little brother, and didn’t have a mom. Nine years and a lifetime.
Shakespeare understood humanity in a way that transcends 400 years of social upheaval and put it on stage in a way that no one could today. I need that kind constancy, we all do.
In its last week on stage, I experienced DelShakes’ Much Ado About Nothing twice. It is hard to imagine two moments during the same run being more drastically different.
Wednesday’s performance would have been rained out if not for The Resurrection Center‘s generosity in offering their altar as a stage. I volunteered for the event and got the opportunity to watch the performance from the pews. Sitting there alone, I thanked God that this was a comedy. I tried to focus on the brilliance of these actors working on an unfamiliar stage, creating something beautiful on the virtual fly. That ghost of no one would not leave my side. I couldn’t field any questions, couldn’t whisper “I LOVE that line,” couldn’t laugh and squeeze a knowing hand. The better the moment on stage, the more intense the pain. The raucously joyful end scene held little comfort. I composed myself and kept as busy as possible during intermission and exeunt. Then, exposed to another part of me that is gone, I was broken in half. When Mary met me I frequently attended concerts, movies, theaters, bars, and wherevers on my own. Now? The soloist is gone and the partner is gone. It’s not heartbreak, it’s personality break. I had hoped it was below 50%, but I’m not certain. Fear and emptiness took hold of me for days.
Four mornings later I awoke with little energy, but just enough quiet determination to go see that damn play again. Maybe it was Poe’s heartbeat, maybe my stubbornness, or maybe it was that I wouldn’t let my pain rob my sons of an experience they deserved to have. Whatever it was, I set to take them out for a night of Shakespeare.
The weather was perfect and the boys ran off to find friends before the show. I leaned back in my low-profile backpack chair to peruse the program and found an antidote to my apprehension over doing this to myself again. A “From the Director” letter that seemed to be aimed right at me. Bi Jean Ngo easily read Much Ado as a play about healing. I needed Miss Ngo to spell it out for me. These characters put barriers in the way of love; Claudio a soldier, Benedict and Beatrice self-declared permanently single, even Hero allows herself to be ‘dead.’ They all end up escaping their pain to permit love.
I don’t know what my path will be through grief. In a way, I’m less sure than ever of how it will happen. I am confident that it will happen. With a little Shakespeare, a lot of these smiles, and a focus on healing, I’m going to build something new.
God bless,
Jason
From the Director of Delaware Shakespeare’s Much Ado About Nothing, Bi Jean Ngo:
A year ago, I experienced exquisite heartbreak. It was the kind of all encompassing, devastating heartbreak that pitches a person into weeks of sobbing into a pillow and into compulsively spending whole paychecks on tubs of ice cream. It was painful, particularly because I’m lactose intolerant.
I didn’t think I could recover, and when I really thought about, I was terrified of mending my heart, because it might get crushed again. I just wanted to construct an impenetrable armor underneath which I could protect my ego and my fragile heart. I was in battle mode, refusing to expose my vulnerabilities.
In that moment, Delaware Shakespeare offered me an artistic challenge and opportunity.
David Stradley asked me if I would direct this summer’s production of Much Ado About Nothing. At first, I was scared that I was in a rather dark place to think about directing a romantic comedy. I re-read the play, and through the lens of my heartbreak, I could see so clearly how the world of Much Ado is about healing that heartbreak. Beatrice and Benedick are two worldly, intelligent people who use their searing wit to wall themselves off from love. From the beginning of the play, we sense a history of unresolved pain between them. Their friends and family help bring Beatrice and Benedick towards a realization of love for each other, and we get to experience their sublime joy when they allow themselves that love.
There is further healing of another sort. When the play opens, the community of Messina and Leonato’s family welcomes home a band of soldiers led by Don Pedro. The soldiers have fought in the wars and come home to a beautiful land filled with vibrant, gorgeous, generous people. We experience the reintroduction of the war veterans into their community through celebration and affection. Claudio falls in love for the first time when he sees Hero. Benedick and Beatrice reconnect. Don Pedro sheds the command of an army and takes command of playing matchmaker, declaring himself as a Love God.
Then there are the moments of conflict filled with gossip and slander that rip apart these romantic binds. We see what happens when men take sides against an innocent woman based on assumptions.There is heartbreak.There are tests of loyalty. And then there is healing, the kind that comes with acknowledgment of misunderstanding and with the generosity of forgiveness.
A couple of members of our cast (Krista Apple & J Hernandez) and I spent some weeks exploring Much Ado through conversations with some of our most vulnerable populations in Wilmington. Our new friends lived through incredible heartbreaks and adversities, and still opened their hearts and minds to us, sharing their thoughts candidly. We were inspired by their incredible strength. We gained insight and clarity about the world of Much Ado which helped shape our work during this production. It’s a thin line between love and hate and love and heartbreak. Choosing to love another human being takes courage, humility, and acceptance.
In the play, we witness a community that celebrates love and connection. And right now, we’re living in a time when there’s a lot of fear about connecting to the unfamiliar and a lot of people who act upon false assumptions. I hope that Much Ado brings all of you joy and romance and encourages everyone here to speak and act from a place of love.
-Bi Jean Ngo