Love is a familiar. Love is a devil. There is no evil angel but love.
I found one! A Shakespeare play for which I care very little – dare I say, I don’t like!
Yet even when confronted with works which do not titillate one’s fancy, I imagine one can still find things to respect or even admire within it. While this play does not stimulate me, it may stand as one of Shakespeare’s best in regards to his occupation as a wordsmith. He effortlessly plays with words like many athletes juggle balls or sticks. His characters dissect words nearly to the point of voiding them of meaning, perhaps leaving the audience look elsewhere for themselves within the play. Comedic? Maybe – to an old English audience more sophisticated in language than this generation.
The privileged and care-free circumstances of the characters also disappointed me. They take their social status for granted and in so doing fail to realize any consequence for their boredom induced mockery of love and relationships. Even the King’s vow to avoid love and pursue study for three years may suggest his longing for meaning in a privileged life but he devalues the pursuit of that meaning (even if in the wrong direction) by abandoning the vow fairly easily. Only at the end, when real consequence halts the lovers’ suits do they realize they do not live in a world apart from agony or sadness rendering their labor’s lost.
I can respect many things in this play but ultimately the word play and character play fail to comprise a coherent plot or stimulating idea. It all seems meaningless. But perhaps we witness Shakespeare’s labor’s lost in this endeavor of his loved passion for play writing.







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