When we see stage directions in a contemporary play, we trust those stage directions. Why? Because we know they are written for us, the readers, by the author. The playwright knows exactly what they want to tell us, and where. It's their play! In my last post, I address how Shakespeare used (and didn’t use) stage directions when he was writing 400 years ago. Since stage directions in most Shakespeare editions are written by editors, not by Shakespeare himself, we can’t take Shakespearean stage directions for granted like we can in modern plays. In fact it’s good to have a healthy amount of skepticism toward them, and sometimes the absolute best thing you can do is ignore them. Here's why.
In theory, stage directions are helpful— they let us know at a glance which characters are coming and going and what they’re up to. So it’s tempting to just accept a stage directions without doing any interpretive work on your own. But instead of helping you understand Shakespeare, a bad stage direction can actually obscure meaning (rather than clarify meaning, the way it’s supposed to). Editors, like the rest of us, make mistakes.
For an example of when we’d all have been better off with no stage direction at all, let’s look at the famous "balcony scene" from Romeo and Juliet.
[Enter Juliet above]
This stage direction is supposed to tell us when Juliet actually comes out onto the balcony to where Romeo can see her. It’s one of the best known stage directions in all of Shakespeare— and yet it is in the wrong place in almost every modern edition I’ve ever come across. Let’s look at these lines from Romeo and Juliet carefully, and take note of the stage direction up front:
[Enter Juliet above]
But soft, what light through yonder window breaks?
It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.
Arise fair sun, and kill the envious moon,
Who is already sick and pale with grief,
That thou her maid art far more fair than she:
…
This stage direction places Juliet on the balcony the entire time Romeo speaks these lines. In this case, in lines 1 and 2 the metaphor is that Juliet is the sun, and she has come bursting onto the balcony like a rising sun.
It makes sense so far. It’s not very deep, but it makes sense.
The problem is, after those first two lines the metaphor falls apart rapidly. If she’s out on the balcony, what does Romeo mean by “Arise fair sun"? Hasn’t she, the sun, already risen? If she is indeed already out on the balcony? How much more does he want her to rise, exactly? He wants her to... rise into the air and literally kill the moon? The metaphor has become ridiculous and basically meaningless.
Shakespeare is very, very literal. His metaphors hold together perfectly— and this one just doesn’t. If Juliet is out on the balcony when Romeo says all these lines, Romeo isn’t making sense. In fact he kind of sounds like a babbling moron (and not in the way than he’s supposed to).
Imagine this instead.
Let us read the same lines again, this time without the stage direction, and imagine that Juliet is still in the house, not on the balcony. Romeo is in the courtyard, alone, waxing poetical. He's looking at her window lit up in the night, and praying to catch a glimpse of her:
But soft, what light through yonder window breaks?
It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.
Arise fair sun, and kill the envious moon,
Who is already sick and pale with grief,
That thou her maid art far more fair than she:
…
Without the stage direction clouding our vision, I think it’s a lot easier to consider that perhaps Romeo has seen just exactly what he said he’s seen— and that is a light in Juliet’s window. Not Juliet herself.
If Romeo hasn’t caught sight of Juliet yet while saying these lines, everything changes. Romeo’s lines become not only logical, but super-logical; not only are Romeo’s lines suddenly not ridiculous, they also reveal an utterly flawless metaphor:
Juliet as the sun.
When we see the sun rise in the East, we see the light from the sun before we see the sun itself. In the same way, Romeo imagines the light he sees within the Capulet’s house to be radiating from Juliet: "but soft, what light through yonder window breaks?" And so when Romeo says “arise fair sun” he is willing Juliet, who is the sun, to come out onto the balcony, so that he can look at her from his hiding place in the courtyard.
So following this logic let’s write some new stage directions that make sense. My added stage directions are in purple.
[Enter Romeo to courtyard. Lights on
in the Capulet’s window.]
But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks?
It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.
Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,
Who is already sick and pale with grief,
That thou her maid art far more fair than she:
Be not her maid, since she is envious;
Her vestal livery is but sick and green
And none but fools do wear it; cast it off.
[Romeo sees Juliet]
It is my lady, O, it is my love!
O, that she knew she were!
…
Hey! What are those two lines at the end there!? Did Shakespeare write those?
Yes. Yes he did. And to me it’s pretty obvious that this is where Shakespeare intends for Romeo to see Juliet— a full nine lines after the stage direction appears in modern editions. If Juliet had been standing out on the balcony the whole time what would be Romeo's reason for these final two lines? It’s not random musing in the way of: Oh, she is my lady… how I love her. That would make those lines throw away lines.
Besides, Romeo doesn't say she is my lady, which could suggest he had previously been looking at her. He says "IT is my lady". This is a blatant exclamation about something he has just seen; a joyful outburst: “It is my lady, O, it is my love!”
These are not throw away lines. Clearly, Romeo has just caught sight of her, and it is only after this moment that he launches into what is probably one of the most earth-shatteringly beautiful speeches of all time (beyond the scope of this post) about Juliet’s face, and her eyes.
And so, a stage direction that puts Juliet in the wrong place at the wrong time is beyond unhelpful when trying to understand this scene.
In this instance, at least the faulty stage direction just obscures the meaning of one passage— it doesn’t much affect our understanding of the play in a larger sense. In King Lear, editors have been adding one specific stage direction that has warped the meaning of the entire play for hundreds of years— something that has become a personal pet peeve for me.
Do you have an edition of Romeo & Juliet? Is your stage direction in the right or wrong place? Let me know in the comments.
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