The three titles in the Illinois Shakespeare Festival’s 2023 season cover the breadth of Shakespeare’s remarkable career. On one end of the timeline, we have The Comedy of Errors, one of his earliest plays that is heavily influenced by the ancient Roman comedies that Shakespeare probably studied as a schoolboy. On the other end is The Tempest, where the main character Prospero overlaps with the image of a world-weary Shakespeare looking toward retirement and old age. (Contrary to popular belief, The Tempest was not Shakespeare’s last play, although it certainly has an air of finality to it.) Last but not least, Lauren Gunderson’s quasi-historical drama The Book of Will tells the incredible story of how the first collection of Shakespeare’s plays was published after his death. Shakespeare’s life—and afterlife—in the theatre passes through these three plays.
In that sense, the 2023 Illinois Shakespeare Festival (ISF) season encourages us to think about beginnings and endings, to see how much Shakespeare’s playwriting changed over the course of his life yet in many ways also remained constant. But another theme that runs through the season is the belief or hope that what was once lost will eventually be found. Having a character lose something important or be separated from their loved ones automatically generates drama and suspense, leading the audience to wonder whether they will be joyfully reunited. This storytelling device is not unique to Shakespeare. Cultures around the world have a rich history of stories of lost or abandoned children discovering their true identity, lost or stolen objects of great symbolic value being retrieved, lost honor or status restored to the virtuous, and even lost life being restored through magic and miracles. Such stories of loss that end happily contain a simple, perhaps even universal message that things will be right in the end. What was lost will be found.
But maybe it is not that simple. The three plays in the 2023 season each relate to the theme of “lost and found” in different ways. Rather than emphasize the joy and relief of finding what was lost, these plays explore the many emotional facets of loss and demonstrate how loss itself can become an opportunity for growth and transformation. We mature through loss. Processes of seeking, missing, and yearning for what we lost can sometimes change us more than the actual moment of finding it.
Underneath all the clowning and slapstick, The Comedy of Errors is about a separated family trying to come back together. Shakespeare has fun with the identical twins (who inexplicably have the same name as well) popping in and out of the scenes, confusing the wits out of everyone. But despite their carbon-copy appearance, there is a fundamental difference between Antipholus of Syracuse—the visitor from abroad—and Antipholus of Ephesus—the local citizen. Antipholus of Syracuse has come to Ephesus in search of his brother, who was lost when they were infants. This character is haunted by his twin brother’s absence, yearning to be reunited with his other half. Antipholus of Ephesus, on the other hand, grew up not knowing anything about this family history. Thanks to his ignorance, he has not felt the heart-wrenching grief that other family members carried for over 20 years. What will happen when the twins finally unite? The happy ending of comedy reassures us that everything in the world will be right in the end, but that does not mean that everyone will feel the same. Is the happiness of finding one’s family proportionate to the amount of time that one has experienced loss?
If the storm that scattered the shipborne family in The Comedy of Errors symbolizes the hand of fate, the storm in The Tempest is an artificial imitation of it. Prospero, the usurped Duke of Milan and self-taught mage, creates a storm to set off his elaborate plan to capture those who wronged him in the past. It is not just the storm that is illusory; The Tempest is all theatre, with Prospero as director and playwright hiding in the wings. And the show that Prospero puts on is all about loss. He leads Alonso, the King of Naples, into believing that his son Ferdinand died in the shipwreck. Ferdinand is actually safe on another part of the island, stripped of his royal status and also believing that his father has died. Without harming anyone, Prospero orchestrates a moving reunion scene where father and son will find each other again. Meanwhile, other characters see visions of a supernatural feast and pageant, only for these pleasures to be snatched away from them at the last minute. Prospero wants others to know what it feels like to lose everything, but there is a lesson for himself within these magic tricks as well. Rather than take revenge on the castaways who have fallen into his grasp, he decides to forgive them. What Prospero finds at the end of the play is not necessarily the power or honor he once lost, but rather a broader perspective on life and the ability to let go of the past.
Letting go is also crucial to Gunderson’s play The Book of Will, which begins several years after Shakespeare died in 1616 (possibly on his birthday). Shakespeare’s fellow company members John Heminges and Henry Condell realize that Shakespeare’s words might soon be lost, as they existed mostly in unorganized manuscripts, pirated copies, and actors’ imperfect memories. Fearing the potential loss of their friend’s brilliant life work, they take it upon themselves to collect, edit, and publish all of Shakespeare’s plays in a single volume—what is now known as the First Folio. By showing the many obstacles that they faced, The Book of Will indirectly asks what if Heminges and Condell failed and the book was never made? We can feel a faint sense of panic, imagining a world in which the First Folio did not exist, exiling about half of Shakespeare’s plays into oblivion. But while this imaginary loss can be rousing, the play is driven by a different kind of loss—a real one. In the end, Heminges and Condell risk and sacrifice so much to publish the book because they are also dealing with the deaths of friends and family members who loved Shakespeare’s work, including good old Will himself. The First Folio cannot bring the dead back to life, but it can let their memories live on. In this way, The Book of Will is both about accepting loss and also preventing it.
Of course, this is just a sliver of what these three plays have to offer. As we start the clock for the 2023 season’s opening this summer, we encourage you to reflect on what you have lost and found in your life, and how that has made you who you are now.
