Audiobooks: Shakespeare: The Man Who Pays the Rent by Judi Dench
Audiobooks: Shakespeare: The Man Who Pays the Rent by Judi Dench
Scott Holleran reviews the conversation between Judi Dench with Brendan O’Hea
One of my favorite actresses, Judi Dench, who’s co-starred in some of the late 20th century’s most delightful, scathing and thought-provoking movies, including Philomena, Notes on a Scandal and Lasse Hallstrom’s Chocolat and The Shipping News, recorded what can honestly be best described as a conversation with Brendan O’Hea. The subject is William Shakespeare’s sonnets and plays.
I’m relatively ignorant of the playwright’s works, though I’ve read, studied and seen stage and movie versions of many Shakespeare plays. Dench famously starred in many on stage and screen. I promise that her new book—I chose to listen to the audiobook version, because I was driving this summer and knew I’d enjoy listening to this artist’s voice—amounts to an intelligent, absorbing and utterly entertaining introduction to Shakespeare's playwriting. With excerpts from 33 of Shakespeare’s plays, and Dench recalling her days in the sun (and in the doldrums, which can be hilarious), Shakespeare: The Man Who Pays the Rent pays ample dividends.
I learned scads about Shakespeare, his drama, comedy and poetry, Dench, the recent history of British Shakespearean theater, and, as a pleasant surprise, Dench’s philosophy of and guide to theatrical and movie acting. O’Hea’s pleasant, too, cajoling and ribbing Dench in a back and forth exchange throughout the audiobook that comes off as candid, extemporaneous and thoughtful. There’s a bit of chit chat about famous people here and there and never in a salacious way. For example, I learned that Kenneth Branagh, one of my favorite actors (who’s also a fine director, especially of Cinderella and Belfast) is a joker with a naughty sense of humor.
I learned about Judi Dench, an exemplary actress. She shows that she is childlike, not childish, and expresses a passionate sense of wonder at the world. She’s expressive and direct. Dench is honest and sharp. Discussing her role in The Merchant of Venice, she admits: “I just don’t want to live in that world.” The chapter on Hamlet, which I am extremely curious about, is wispy. Dench persuasively addresses what she calls the homoeroticism in Coriolanus, giving a story recap and interpretation of this and nearly every play. She also discusses her parenting and, briefly, her marriage and other real-life excursions, endeavors and encounters.
The part on Shakespeare’s sonnets is but one part that moved me. At a certain point, Dench makes reference to an “intellectual workout” and discloses the late John Gielgud’s favorite sonnet, reading what Gielgud—whom she remembers on stage as shining in “moments rather than performances”—read at a memorial ceremony. She remembers seeing Richard Burton act on stage and says she “loved working with Ben Cumberbatch.” Per 2020’s lockdown, she recalls the “relentless futility of it all.” Discussing Shakespearean films, Dench says she favors Kenneth Branagh’s Henry V.
After expressing deep thoughts on As You Like It, she opines on Measure for Measure, offering that “Isabella [is] fighting for justice in an unjust world…” O’Hea replies that: “you were dressed rather racy for a nun…” and Dench responds that “I’m glad you weren’t writing the review,” before explaining that “she’s a novice, not a nun, which is why she’s allowed to wear low-cut” clothing and adds that Isabella has a “terrible fear of men” or “fear of life” and that chaos reigns in Vienna so “we have to figure out why she’s motivated to make an already strict nunnery stricter.” Lamenting overanalysis, scholarship and certain abstractions, Dench dryly asserts that “you can’t act a theme.”
At one point, when she’s rattled by O’Hea’s talk of death in relation to these themes, plays and performances, she admits that she “can’t even talk about it…let’s change the subject.” Not surprisingly, Judi Dench can be curious, prickly and opinionated. “I’m not sure every play ought to be wrapped up in a great big bow…I think it’s lovely for the audience to be left with a question in their minds.”
She shows absolute reverence for and fidelity to William Shakespeare. Discussing the Rose Theater, she recalls that Peggy Ashcroft was at the forefront of the campaign to restore the place: “I thought..this is where—this the actual space…those people were here. This is the space that heard the sound that first heard those words.” She notes that, in 1998, she “filmed Shakespeare in Love…with a beautiful replica of the Rose.”
Regarding Much Ado About Nothing, she affords an intelligent and considerable analysis of both characters and plot, from hiding in the honeysuckle to Beatrice’s “genuine tenderness.” When she “releases what she’s denied to herself”—her sadness—“she’s too vulnerable” to cry to Benedict, Dench claims.
There were several times during Judi Dench’s remembrances, readings and performances in which I was moved. I know Shakespeare better than I did before. I started listening to this audiobook, which enriched me in ways I could not have anticipated, with only a general interest. Listening to her thoughts, in light banter, reflection of her extraordinary career in the performing arts and immersion in Shakespeare’s characters, I was touched, inspired and indelibly challenged about the most serious, darkest and most exalted and glorious moments of life. I will listen to this again and again. Shakespeare: The Man Who Pays the Rent is that good.
