The Beard of Avon
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Over the years some 80 names have been put forward as the “true” Shakespeare. Perhaps the best candidate to unseat Shakspere is Edward de Vere, 17th Earl of Oxford. Although he died of plague in 1604, years before Shakespeare’s last plays are thought to have been written, even the staunchest Stratfordian will admit that dating Shakespeare’s scripts is largely conjecture. Oxford was a highly educated man renowned for his poetry and known as an avid enthusiast of drama. Oxfordians eagerly point out the similarities between events in many of Shakespeare’s plays and those in Oxford’s life; Hamlet, they contend, is close to Oxford’s life story, complete with a parody of his busybody guardian, Lord Burghley, in the character of Polonius. Oxford had access to all the ancient literature alluded to in Shakespeare’s canon. He studied law. He traveled. And if he needed a pseudonym, “Shakespeare” was a natural choice: Oxford’s coat of arms showed a lion shaking a spear, and at court he was referred to as “spear shaker.”
However you feel about the Shakespeare authorship controversy–I couldn’t care less who wrote the plays, I’m just grateful they exist–it does offer fodder for a historical mystery of epic proportions. Playwright Amy Freed opts for light comedy, however–so light it seems the actors might float away.
By the end of the first act it seems we’re not supposed to take anything seriously. Yet in the second act, in addition to providing more silliness, Freed tries to wring emotion from characters built largely out of quirks. And without the proper groundwork, Oxford’s deathbed confessions to Shakspere, admitting his friend’s genius, are more maudlin than touching.
