I’m not normally someone who makes New Year’s Resolutions, but I have a task, which I have been wanting to do for some time, and which I fear that I may fall down on unless I give myself the extra impetus of a hard-and-fast resolution to back it up.

The task?  To watch all of Shakespeare’s plays in performance.  I say ‘task’, which makes it sound rather as though I am already imagining that this activity will be something of a chore.  Perhaps what I need more than a resolution is a change in attitude; decide to positively look forward to each performance.  And I should perhaps qualify the term ‘performance’ too.  While I’d love to see each play performed live on stage, for the purposes of this endeavour, I am perfectly happy to watch filmed versions of the plays, drawing upon as my primary resource the BBC Shakespeare Collection on DVD.  Thirty-seven plays without having to stir from the comfort of my own living room.

And how long have I allotted myself to complete this viewing epic?  The calendar year would be a nice, neat timeframe but, realistically, I fear it may take slightly longer.  I must to my own self be true; recognise my limitations.  One play every fortnight.  That sounds undemanding and doable.  One play every fortnight would give an estimated completion date of early-summer 2025.

And what do I hope to have achieved by the end of my Shakespearean marathon?  Well, I have no pretensions of becoming a Shakespeare expert.  Although I might aspire to become something of a Shakespeare bore; the kind of person that can interject with supreme confidence at a polite cocktail party: “No, I think you will find that was actually Miranda” or who will use a familiar quotation, and then be able to state the play, act and scene from which it originated.

Now, it might seem logical to start watching all the plays in the chronological order of when they were written, but therein lies something of a problem.  That would mean a lot of Henrys early doors.  Worthy, but rather resolve-sapping.  One Henry, okay, but Henry VI Parts 1, 2 and 3?  It is possible to have too much of a good thing.  I am in this enterprise for the long-haul; too many Henrys and I fear that the failure of my venture would be a foregone conclusion.  I don’t want my spirit crushed before February as I set foot into this Brave New World.

So, instead, I have permitted myself the licence to go freestyle.  Choose whichever play I fancy, as the whim takes me, and hope that there proves to be method in my madness.

So, I wait with bated breath to begin.  And up first?  I am going to break the ice with an established classic.  The Merchant of Venice.  Why?  Well, I have never seen it performed before; never read it; feel as though I know a few bare bones of the story––“pound of flesh”; “all that glisters is not gold”––but recognise that it has the potential to surprise and confound me.  Sadly, I won’t be seeing the recent Tracy-Ann Oberman adaptation––The Merchant of Venice 1936––but the 1980 BBC production with Warren Mitchell as Shylock, Gemma Jones as Portia, and Detective Chief Inspector Tom Barnaby as Bassanio.

Looking forward to it?

Well, do you know what?  Yes, I am.

© Fergus Longfellow

Fergus Longfellow limbers up for his viewing marathon.