Theatre – Life on the Wicked Stage: Act 3

Previews, Pre-Season, Betas, and Opening Nights

Some more thoughts on the iPhone Duo release with a dash of theatre and sports tossed in the mix

There’s an old saying in the theatre biz. No show is ever really ready on opening night. It’s a cliché that has seen it’s time pass in the big money commercial circuit because so many producers run lengthy preview weeks, charging essentially, but not quite, full price to avoid reviewers publishing their criticisms until the show is officially open. The preview process began lengthing after the days of out-of-town tryouts came to an end, although we see that still happening occasionally as larger regional theatres will debut a work, allowing it to still be worked on, hoping that it will one day make it to Broadway.

Apple iPhone Duo closed and open_big.jpg.large_2x.

There was a famous production of Eugene O’Neil’s play Hughie, starring and directed by Al Pacino, that ran in previews for almost a month before finally opening. That led to a critic from Daily Variety breaking the only after opening night embargo a week early since the announced limited run would end up with less “real” performances than those in previews after the show officially opened. The show would go on to extend the run a couple of times.

In smaller circuits the cliché still lives on, simply because of a lack of resources to run many preview performances in front of audiences to really gauge reaction before it officially opens. A show can look great in final dress rehearsals, but it’s never complete until there’s a paying audience of strangers sitting in the dark to tell if it works or not. The ever-present lack of time still breathes life into the cliché in ways that offer both hope and anxiety behind opening night curtains around the world.

In the professional sports world teams play in a pre-season or spring training games that don’t matter while the players tune up for the real thing. Although in most of those types of meaningless games it’s really more like watching players audition than it is anything else. Occasionally a budding star emerges, but that’s atypical. Early “real” season games that do count (at full price) are when teams find out what they have, leading knowledgeable sports viewers knowing when it is time to pay real attention to a team’s chances or not.

Those are two interests in my life. I’m a theatre professional (and geek) and I watch sports. Another is my interest in tech. In tech we have betas. Or we used to, when that was mostly for software. Now we’re just in previews, pre-season, or perpetual betas forever for both software and hardware. Which is somewhat understandable, yet weird, perhaps ironic, but ultimately a joke on the paying public, given the pace in which things are always advancing in tech, including the pace and price of advancement.

We never seem to reach opening night, opening day or the end of a beta period in tech. Instead products and software are released incomplete, occasionally followed immediately by “leaks” that suggest the company that just took your money for it’s latest best product ever is working on fixing the things they knew were wrong for the next version when they released the product you just payed for.

But you’re going to love it.

It’s easier to swallow with software. It’s a bigger pill that sticks in the craw with hardware.

It used to be that betas were for working out bugs. They still are to a degree, but now they’re just the next show in a never-ending season, or the latest minor-league call up. But you still pay full price for the game when the team needs to put a not ready for the big leagues pitcher on the mound just to fulfill its obligation to play the announced season.

You can argue that there’s nothing wrong with the way things have evolved in tech because the financial equations are different. It requires a substantial upfront investment to create, produce and deliver new technology. You’d be mostly wrong, but you can argue it. Most of the costs in show biz happen upfront before a show even gets close to an audience, hopefully a large enough one in a long enough run to recoup the initial investment. It is a different equation in sports.

The release of Apple’s iPhone Duo strikes me as an interesting entry in this evolution of consumer dynamics. Soon, perhaps too soon, before the product was released to the general public, leaks popped out that Apple was working on tweaks to two of the major criticisms of the device for the next generation — a larger model and adding FaceID. That followed criticism from reviewers.

In general, most tech reviews I read, watched, or listened to made it very clear that the iPhone Duo was a first generation device with some rough edges that wasn’t for everyone, especially at the entry price. I can’t judge those reviews myself since I haven’t seen the product, but they mostly seemed very similar and to my mind fair. Some, sounding more like theatre critics or sport writers I’ve known, were more harsh, delivering criticism that might have prompted a closing notice being posted before intermission or an early game benching.

Here’s where my three interests diverge a bit. In theatre the show can close early if it’s savaged or not enthusiastically endorsed by reviews. In sports a pro team can retool a bit by trading or signing free agents midseason. Tech companies have to play out the run with tech hardware until the next generation is ready.

Given the leaks following the reviews I find it sort of funny that I’m in a place of feeling a bit sorry for the carriers that are offering great deals on the iPhone Duo subsidized by a three year contract. That’s a tough sell to anyone who pays attention, though admittedly most won’t if they’re hot to trot for the new shiny folding phone from Apple.

It’s my hunch, and only a hunch, that Apple knew these criticisms were coming. Even so, it’s one thing to prepare the next version hoping to make changes that advance a platform, it’s another to make them in reaction to negative press once the product is unveiled. It sets you up in the next round for being congratulated for fixing what was wrong the last time.

In the theatre if a joke doesn’t land, you can replace the joke in previews. In sports you bench a player or fire a coach. With tech hardware it’s not that easy changing things before it becomes a punch line. (See the Vision Pro.)

My second hunch, only a hunch, is that the iPhone Duo will eventually become a successful part of Apple’s lineup and get past what feels like a rough opening. I don’t think it will enter into Vision Pro punchline territory. Critics of all human endeavors need something to criticize as much as companies need to produce the next thing. It’s a symbiotic relationship that feeds on itself. And the always distracted general public has short-term memory bordering on amnesia.

It’s my wish that tech companies, like theatre companies and sports teams, would figure out a better path to the success they seek. Sure, you might be able to fool some of the people all of the time. But for the most part folks figure it out on their own. Some of the time. And that some of the time is what everybody on the producing end of things counts on.

Thanks for reading. You can subscribe to this blog if you care to. You can also find more of my writings on a variety of topics on Medium at this link, including in the publications Ellemeno and Rome. I can also be found on social media under my name as above. This site does not use affilate links.

The Debate Over This Writing Thing

Words, words, words. Bits, bits, bits.

Several weeks ago there was quite a debate bouncing around about what writing is or might or might not become in this era of Artificial Intelligence. Quite a lot was written about the subject. I watched and read most of it beginning with John Gruber’s piece on Daring Fireball about Anthropic’s use of watermarks for AI-generated writing. Gruber called it a “perversion of writing.” Many others weighed in with words, words, words. And more words.

Shutterstock 2525907005. A hand writing with a quill an ink.

I particularly liked Dan Moren’s piece in response, primarily because it lines up with what I’ve learned and currently think about AI-writing. Here’s a quote:

That might be the case if AIs were writing. But they are not; they are simply generating text. Those two things are not the same. As per the premise of John’s piece, writing is about carefully picking the words and crafting the meaning of what you’re saying, things that AI do not—and patently cannot—do.

In case you’re wondering, I’m in the camp that says that AI isn’t capable of “writing.” If you know anything about the tech at all, you should be too. AI might be able to predict the next word, but that’s a mathematical equation not writing. If you insist otherwise, I hope the kool-aid tasted good on the way down.

Back in the days of my youth, one of the many rituals of sorting wheat from the chaff in childhood education was teaching us to to write mechanically, moving slowly but steadily up to writing things with meaning (remember book reports?) and once we moved into college there was Freshman Comp. Do they still teach Freshman Comp these days?

It wasn’t until later in college when I actually learned what I came to believe writing was all about. Dr. Ralph Cohen, an English professor who taught courses on Shakespeare, film as a narrative art, and surveys of literature, was one of the few professors who kicked my butt. He challenged me in ways others didn’t and I ended up taking most of the classes he offered.

In teaching Shakespeare, he laid out what the physical act and monetary cost of writing during the Bard’s time actually required. There was a real cost to committing an idea to the paper he made out of rags and old linens. Simply put, it meant the work of writing happened in the man’s brain and soul either before or as he was scribbling away with his quill and ink.

I was never good at writing with pen/pencil and paper. Nevertheless, I fought my mother tooth and nail when she insisted I take a typing class in high school. She won. I’m glad she did. Writing for me did become easier on a keyboard and a keyboard has been the primary medium of committing my thoughts to paper or digital bits ever since.

In thinking about this debate I pulled a dust covered dictionary off of one of my book shelves to look up the definition of writing. It’s The American College Dictionary published by Random House copyrighted in 1961. Here’s what that says below:

I also looked up the word “write.”

And the word “writer.”

Google Gemini’s AI summary provides the following:

The highlights in that result are Google’s. Certainly there are many other dictionaries with differing and distinct definitions spelled out. I’d wager that most, like those above, focus on the mechanical. Perhaps that would steer the debate more towards those who think AI can “write.” Frankly, I find that devaluing when I think of the act, or dare I say the art of writing.

Having spent a life in the theatre, written a few plays and musicals along the way, and heard the chimes at midnight with many a playwright and composer searching for the right words or notes, I believe there’s an element that’s missing when most engage in this debate. I’d call it the soul.

Otherwise the infinite monkey theorem comes into play and renders all writing reductive to a fault. Or if The Simpsons is more your cup of tea, 1000 monkeys with a 1000 typewriters.

There are some that are trying to define parameters of this debate as being about process. But that’s any creator’s thing. Some want to frame the discussion about how the march of technological progress always presents change. So, why resist it?

If writing, or any other art form was supposed to be easy or easier that’s when the devaluing kicks in. The playing fields of creation have never be level. Why start doing so now?

That last link above is from a piece from Tim O’Reilly on the subject. I’m not sure if he wrote it or he coached an AI to do so. You’ll understand that if you do read the piece. Regardless, it’s worth your time if you have interest in the debate. Here’s a quote:

We’re in the early days, still shooting filmed stage plays. The masters of this instrument will uncover themselves. When they do, what they produce isn’t going to be slop. In the meantime, I don’t think we should be shooting down people who are trying to push AI’s limits in writing or art. Writers should be trying to figure out the medium, just as software developers are doing in coding.

We may indeed be in the early days. I translate that in our current moment to folks paying for and investing a lot of money to use beta software that promises much, doesn’t always work, and more often than not yields different responses to the same prompt. But that’s the slippery slope we’ve fallen down with most tech these days.

Early filmmakers may have indeed been constantly adapting and evolving the technology they used and the way they used it. Although to pick a nit, the early filmmakers analogy doesn’t really hold up, as most early films were shot outdoors until lighting technology caught up, allowing for better filming of interiors. That’s when filming stage plays really began. (Thanks, Dr. Cohen.)

The distinction is that those early filmmakers were pushing their technology envelopes to better tell a story in a new medium of motion pictures. Not mimic one that had existed since man first painted tales of the hunt on cave walls. That assumes you accept the pieces of the definitions of writing that describe it as a method of using symbols, characters or words on some surface in order to communicate an idea.

But back to my thoughts on writing in opposition to those I disagree with. It’s safe to say that my bet is anything AI writes, no matter how well prompted, won’t endure for 400 or so years the way Shakespeare has. Or in later generations, Chekov, Ibsen, Miller, Mamet or Shepard. Not even the summaries. Of course, who knows what will endure 400 years into this wacky future we seem hell bent on creating? Or is that erasing?

I’ll end this with a quote from Mr. Shakespeare:

Write till your ink be dry, and with your tears
Moist it again, and frame some feeling line
That may discover such integrity.

Two Gentlemen From Verona, Act 3, Scene 2

A 1000 monkeys indeed.

(Images from KinoMasterskaya on Shutterstock. Dictionary photos by the author.)

The Myth of Character

There’s nothing new under the sun

I’m a pretty good judge of character. My profession as a theatre director trained me to understand a character in a play’s dramatis personae from reading a script. I hear you. That’s life on the stage. That’s make believe.

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Here’s the secret. No character on a stage ever appeared for the first time in a play. They debuted in life and someone described them in words and brought them to theatrical life. Playwrights don’t create characters out of whole cloth. They, like poets and writers before them, write characters as they have experienced them in the real world, or borrow them from those that have written them before. We are a decidedly unoriginal species.

If you live long enough and pay attention to the world, you develop the same skills as writers and theatre directors. You quickly come to realize that there are indeed a limited number of character types around us and they are easily identifiable. There are apparently a finite number of molds we’re baked in.

Hell, dogs recognize good and bad characters much like humans. Often faster. So do children, but something happens as we mature that dulls that instinct.

Writers for the page, stage and cinema people their stories with recognizable types, not for lack of trying, but as recognition that we don’t really change that much through the ages. In the theatre trade we call these easily identifiable types “stock characters.” Stock, as in picking them down off of a shelf.

Aristophanes and Theophrastus for the Greeks, and Plautus for the Romans get most of the credit for this. Although most consider Plautus to have simply borrowed the concept. Later, Commedia dell’Arte became famous for its stock characters, and also the masks created for them. The humans behind the masks became less important to the story than the costume. That should tell you something.

Supposedly the first time the term “stock character” appeared in the English language was in the 1860’s. Other cultures had and have their own versions of stock characters. Asian and African forms of storytelling also developed their own easily recognizable familiar characters.

When it comes to literature and entertainment there haven’t been that many new characters recreated from life’s observances since antiquity. “Good” characters have a flaw or two or three. So do the “bad.” That’s what makes them human. Even the dramas written in the days of multiple gods featured those beings as flawed. Without flaws there is no conflict, no drama, no comedy.

In today’s highly charged political atmosphere, with villains currently holding winning hands here and abroad, looking for perfect characters to defeat them is a fool’s errand. And yes, there are more than plenty who fit the character mold of fool.

When a person creates a role behind a mask representing good character or one on a path of redemption, that’s an age old character trait also. Those characters always get their comeuppance in the end when the flaws are exposed. It’s only recently in the history of literature that we’ve forced happy endings that include the irredemable into the mix. It’s a sad and unfunny joke that people keep trying the trick. Audiences, like dogs, sniff it out.

When someone says a man or woman is of good character it doesn’t mean they’re perfect, pristine, or pure. We might like it to, but that’s wish casting. Flaws will always emerge. Otherwise the story generally sucks.

I wish we’d stop looking for those mythical creatures and recognize that the good and bad ones that populate our real life off the stage are just copying what came before and mirroring the life most of us lead.

(Image from mariesacha on Shutterstock)

A Flopping Turkey In Washington DC

Sad spectacle in Washington DC

I’ve directed a few shows in my time that were flops. Small audiences. Empty theaters. Never fun. Always embarrassing. Always a loss. We called flops and turkeys. I don’t think any of those experiences compares to the big show currently flopping in Washington DC as America tries to celebrate its 250th Anniversary under an extremely unpopular, flailing pedophile and adjudicated rapist still pretending to be president.

It’s one thing to give your all for a play or a musical and have the public not be interested, regardless of the quality of work. It’s another thing entirely to fail with egg on your face celebrating the biggest anniversary in the country’s history to date, simply because folks don’t bother to show up.

We always joked about a flop by saying the public stayed away in droves. From all of the photos and live coverage from DC, it looks like the droves are in on this joke. Oh, there are other celebrations around the country, but the public sure seems to be ignoring the big one put on by the big guy. You’d think someone so obsessed about ratings would take the hint.

The myth is that Benjamin Franklin wanted the turkey to be our national bird and not the eagle. Turns out we’ve got a real turkey of a 250th celebration on our hands. And this one is no myth.

What Goes Around Is Always Coming Back Around

Life can be painful. Live theatre can be as well.

Now that we’re into rehearsals for the stage reading of Puta Wijaya’s play OH, it’s both gratifying and terrifying to discover that my initial thoughts about the piece being timely and universal are correct.

That of course what’s makes a good play, a good story. It also makes for a constant reminder of how little attention we pay to the stories we tell and repeat.

Wijaya’s work began as a short story that was originally published in 2003, and was then adapted by him in 2018 into what he calls a monodrama, meaning a one character monologue. It’s set in Indonesia. But the words spilling out his thoughts could easily have been written about the U.S lately.

Here’s an example:

I’m stepping into the struggle for justice in this impotent toothless tiger of a country which, instead of using what’s left of its strength to fight, lazes around enjoying itself. Oh! This is insanely embarrassing. It just doesn’t make sense. But this is reality. Our reality! The older generation slacks off, the younger generation jacks off. People are racing to dig their own graves.

And another:

Not like those other lawyers these days who are mostly about making deals, or those elites and intellectuals who shine when they are powerless, but who, from their new seats of power, become more…(Louder) violent, greedy, materialistic, merciless, and despicable once they get the opportunity to trample on justice and truth they once idolized.

Working with IVP is one of the gigs I return to eagerly. Working with plays from far away places and different cultures, always, in the end, proves over and over again that at the core, we’re all the same. Though our life experiences may differ, they really aren’t.

I used the word terrifying in the opening of this post because you’d never know that this play wasn’t written about what we in the U.S. are living through currently. I also say that because regardless of where we’re from, or the horrors we endure, we never seem to learn how the wheel always turns and comes round again.

Life can be painful. Live theatre can be as well.

You can also find more of my writings on a variety of topics on Medium at this link, including in the publications Ellemeno and Rome. I can also be found on social media under my name as above. This site does not use affilate links.

Gearing Up For Another Journey With The International Voices Project

The plays may be from far away, but the stories feel closer to home

It’s that time again. A time to journey into parts unknown with writers new to me. That means it’s time for The International Voices Project festival.

This is a gig I participate in once or twice a year. IVP gives me a chance to explore writers, different cultures, and a larger world. The mission of IVP is to bring international works translated into English to Chicago audiences. They are presented in a staged reading format. That simply means actors are carrying scripts and the production isn’t fully realized. The emphasis is on the text and the story.

This year I’m headed to Indonesia and the play, OH, by Puta Wijaya. The story features a young attorney who arrives at his father’s hospital bedside to fulfill his father’s request, but he comes not as a son, but as an ambitious lawyer seeking his mentor’s opinion on a case: defending a drug dealer facing two death sentences. Wijaya himself adapted the piece into a play from an original short story of his, called The People’s Justice.

The one thing I always learn from these plays from other countries is not how different we are, but just how much we are the same. That’s more than true with this piece, as much of what the main character thinks could be ripped out of today’s US headlines or from social media.

Looking forward to spending the next week rehearsing and hearing the staged reading of OH, next week.

The Wrecking Ball Comes For The Theatre Building

End of an era

A friend and fellow theatre professional, Walter Stearns, took this sad photo today. It marks the end of an era, the end of a theatre (multiple ones under one roof), and the closing of a chapter in my life.

The Theatre Building, later Stage 773, and even later WHIM, has finally come under the wrecking ball.

If you were a theatre practitioner in any of its disciplines, I’m betting you worked on one of its three stages. Big name stars worked there before they were big names, just like many others less famous doing their thing.

If you think of what has become known as Chicago theatre, The Theatre Building was one of the venues that made theatre in Chicago, Chicago Theatre. I was privileged to produce and direct shows on each of those three stages, was a tenant, worked on staff for a period of time, and helped manage a major renovation in the 90’s.

We’ve known this has been coming for a while now, but seeing this photo of the demolition sharply marks the end. The site of so much theatre magic and home to so many Chicago theatre companies will now be developed into residential units.

Here’s a link to a Chicago Tribune article from last summer announcing the impending final curtain.

I’d take a drive by today, but feel I would be too emotional. Instead I’ll commiserate with some theatre friends tonight when we see Walter’s latest show in another part of town.

Sad day for many.

Celebrate World Theatre Day!

Imagine

In a fit of misplaced hope and perhaps vanity, I would hope that lots of folks who don’t ordinarily attend the theatre do so today on World Theatre Day. Of course in that same misplaced vanity, I would hope more would do so more often on any day.

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World Theatre Day is an international observance that started in 1962 by the International Theatre Institute to promote live theatre as an art form across the world. Each year a different theatre artist is recognized and provides a message, sharing his or her reflections on the theme of theatre and a Culture of Peace. This year’s choice is Willem Dafoe.

Here’s an excerpt from his message:

We are social animals and designed biologically for engagement with the world. Every sense organ is a gateway for encounter and through this meeting we achieve greater definition of who we are. Through storytelling, aesthetics, language, movement, scenography – theatre as a total art form can make us see what was, what is and what our world could be.

As Jean Cocteau said in the first World Theatre Day message shared by the ITI:

We gather to weep and to remember; to laugh and to contemplate; to learn and to affirm and to imagine.

Go see a play.

Took A Little Trip Into The Theater of the Mind

Take me to the water

My wife and I took a little trip downtown today to check out David Byrne and Mala Gaonkar’s immersive theater production, Theater of the Mind. I’ll be writing my thoughts up about it soon. I will say it’s quite an experience.

Until then, enjoy the juxtaposition of these signs and banners for Theater of the Mind and the next door World of Whirlpool. As we walked up I found the proximity more than amusing, and somehow fitting given the body of Byrne’s work and the fact that both are housed in historic Reid Murdoch Building adjacent to the Chicago River.

The latter is not a theater experience. But then again, who knows?

Below is a promo for Theater of the Mind.

Hollow Crowns, Hollow Honor, Hollow Men

There’s nothing new under the sun

My wife and I spent the weekend watching two pieces of history. One unfolding, one already folded into folios more times than creases might allow. Separated as they are by hundreds of years, one a streaming dramatic retelling, the other a dramatic reality, they share more similarities than those distances impart.

Promotional poster for the TV series “The Hollow Crown: The Wars of the Roses,” showing the title in large white text on a dark background at left while, on the right, a group of medieval characters in armor and period clothing stand in front of misty trees and a bright, cloudy sky, with a crowned knight in full plate armor holding a sword at the front of the group.

That reality I speak of is of course the war that the United States and Israel have launched against Iran for any of the hollow rationales the administration keeps trying to fill in. The retelling is the two-season BBC series encompassing William Shakespeare’s history plays spanning the reigns of Richard II, through a collection Henrys, an Edward, and ending with Richard III called The Hollow Crown.

The title of the series is taken from a soliloquy from Richard II that always felt apt as preamble for what was to come through the period of history those plays encompass, as it has throughout human history, both before and after that bloody era.

From Richard II

…for within the hollow crown
That rounds the mortal temples of a king
Keeps Death his court and there the antic sits,
Scoffing his state and grinning at his pomp,
Allowing him a breath, a little scene,
To monarchize, be fear’d and kill with looks,
Infusing him with self and vain conceit,
As if this flesh which walls about our life,
Were brass impregnable, and humor’d thus
Comes at the last and with a little pin
Bores through his castle wall, and farewell king!

The plays and our current Middle East maelstrom demonstrate the folly of humans in what we call war, civil and otherwise, and the allegiances we are taught to assign to countries, kings, and presidents. They also demonstrate the collective capacity to forget that these humans we bow down to, willingly or no, are no more or less flawed than those they govern. Even as some become monsters or others reveal that they always have been.

Shakespeare had the benefit of over 100 years distance from the events he was dramatizing before he embarked on writing the first tetralogy, (Henry VI, Parts I, II, and III, and Richard the Third,) and a few years later completing the second (Richard II, Henry IV parts 1 and 2 and Henry V.) Although taken as two parts of a whole in terms of history, the two tetralogies were written out of historical sequence with the latter years chronicled before the former.

Obviously, today we don’t have the benefit of perspective that distance and the passage of time can lend as current news swoops in like flocks of drones. In truth, we really shouldn’t need it. The only thing that really changes are the players and history’s progression of weaponry and technology that they wield. Even the rhetoric doesn’t change much.

From Henry V

Take pity of your town and of your people
Whiles yet my soldiers are in my command,
Whiles yet the cool and temperate wind of grace
O’erblows the filthy and contagious clouds
Of heady murder, spoil, and villainy.
If not, why, in a moment look to see
The blind and bloody soldier with foul hand
Desire the locks of your shrill-shrieking daughters,
Your fathers taken by the silver beards
And their most reverend heads dashed to the walls,
Your naked infants spitted upon pikes
Whiles the mad mothers with their howls confused
Do break the clouds

These are the things men say when they choose to go to war, whether they may have good reason or not. If reason itself does exist in those moments. Once you descend down that path, it becomes an increasingly greater challenge to swallow the bluster and reverse course. Honor demands, they always say, and more than not leaves its corpse on the field.

Although you have to admit, Shakespeare’s poetry, even for those not used to scanning Shakespeare, is easier on the ear than anything spewing out of the mouths of Trump, Hegseth or any of the other current day blowhards and courtiers.

Regardless of whether the war councils happen in throne rooms, camp tents, or a makeshift Mar-A-Lago SCIF, it doesn’t take much imagining to see the similarities between modern day cabinet members, and long dead peers and archbishops. The costumes may be different, but the egos, hubris and fear remain the same. The fear isn’t always as much of the opponent, but of the leader’s capricious power against those who think differently and raise their heads to speak their minds. Civilization may have advanced to the point in most regions that we don’t cut off heads at a whim, but legs and livelihoods can swiftly be cut off with a Twitter/Truth Social post.

One of the things that struck me most about the production of The Hollow Crown, was the intimacy that filming allows. The series features a cast of superstars including Patrick Stewart, Judi Dench, Benedict Cumberbatch, Tom Hiddleston, Jeremy Irons, Simon Russell Beale, Ben Whishaw, David Suchet, Hugh Bonneville, Michelle Dockery, and Sophie Okonedo among a host of others it would be tough to assemble to speak those speeches on a stage. They do so with intimacy and nuance than larger, more open venues allow without amplification.

I’ve seen each of these plays live on stage multiple times. In fact, one of the signature live theatre viewing experiences of my life was attending the English Shakespeare Company’s The Wars of the Roses at the Chicago International Theatre Festival in 1988 that presented all of the plays over the course of three days.

Both that live version and this made for TV version made cuts in the text for various reasons including length. The three parts of Henry VI are condensed into two, with the TV version omitting Jack Cade’s rebellion, and Henry V bypassing the slaying of the children managing the baggage train are examples. But both gave you the essentials of the same story.

The live stage version certainly brought grandeur and spectacle to the event. The parade of the various reigns of kings proceeded through history adorned in Renaissance costumes with weapons of the period for Richard II evolving to more contemporary clothing and weapons for Richard III, before quickly devolving to the final battle between that Richard and Richmond in full battle armor, then flashing forward again, presenting Richmond’s final speech as a press conference broadcast on TV.

The TV version suffers a bit compared to current day streaming spectacles given the obvious budget and technology constraints of the time of its filming in 2012 through 2016. Amazing how 10-15 years can make more of a difference in our storytelling techniques than hundreds of years does in how we continue to rerun the actions of those stories in real life.

But the streaming version does hold up extraordinarily well and offers new insights, due to the intimacy that the camera allows. Using the camera to focus on Shakespeare’s moments of inner thoughts in soliloquies dissects those character kings and queens in ways modern day lickspittle journalists only wish they could access. Even though Shakespeare’s words describing those thoughts are his, they have the ring of more truth than the many we hear and see through these days, certainly in moments of chaos.

And there’s the rub. In moments that strain the hearts and souls of nations, we yearn for anything approaching a morsel of truth amongst all the banquets of rhetoric we’re served. Shakespeare’s fictionalized histories, though not accurate in detail or some necessary facts, reveal the more important and enduring truths, doubts, and fears that all men and women harbor beneath the armor they don for battle as they command us to follow.

Whether watching The Bishop of Canterbury recite the litany of lineage that gives King Henry V the right to invade France, or Secretary of State Marco Rubio breathlessly trying to spin together the strands of stories this administration has spewed out as justification for our current war, the comparisons favor neither, yet reveal the time worn folly of both. And you can’t walk away from comparing the falsehoods, conniving, and deteriorating health of Falstaff to those of Donald Trump.

History catalogs facts and the myths manufactured around them. Drama reveals the humanity of those behind the history. I have said more times than I can count that Shakespeare is the greatest chronicler of the human condition and the ways we relate one to another. There isn’t a human to human interaction that he doesn’t reveal in his characters, even those who have no character.

We like to ignore, or conveniently forget that it’s all been written before. Watching our current myth makers trying to rewrite history as it happens moment to moment, it’s no wonder we yearn for any small slice of humanity to help us make sense of it all.

I’m guessing the dramatists who will reveal that to us haven’t been born yet.