By Susan Riley Stevens
Sometimes the stars align, and the themes and questions of a play from 400 years ago remain remarkably relevant to contemporary audiences.
Surely, that’s one reason we keep returning to our favorites—Hamlet, Othello, King Lear. No one before Shakespeare or since has written characters who speak directly from their souls to ours—who not only understand and capture the essence of what it means to be human but give it meaning and life far beyond what’s on the page or the stage. The Complete Works of William Shakespeare is a big book filled with flawed and fabulous humans yearning to burst free. And one of them is Timon of Athens.
Timon of Athens was never produced during Shakespeare’s lifetime. In fact, there is some debate over whether it is even a finished play at all, and it was likely a collaboration with the Jacobean poet and playwright Thomas Middleton. Some of the same ideas are explored in more well-known plays—King Lear and Coriolanus were both written around the same time. But if Timon feels like raw material from which more widely produced plays would emerge, it is no less thrilling to explore in the “Extreme Shakespeare” process. It has just as much to say about the complexity of human relationships, and the folly of believing that money can buy loyalty and affection.
The plot is fairly straightforward. Timon, a wealthy Athenian aristocrat, lavishes his riches on friends far and wide, only to become disillusioned and embittered when those same friends turn their backs on him in his hour
of need.
One could argue that Timon is a naive philanthropist, but it is just as valid to say he sees himself as superior to those around him, endlessly proving his status as a great benefactor by opening his home and throwing extravagant parties, believing he is loved and admired by all.
Like many today who are caught up in the pursuit of material possessions and status, Timon operates in a culture of greed and power, with his great wealth placing him at its epicenter. He’s verified—he has likes and followers, bought and paid for. He is beloved only by those interested in their own personal gain, and when his fortunes change, so does their loyalty.
Within the story of Timon lies a morality tale about the value of true friendship versus fleeting material wealth. This play is like buried gold—rarely produced and seldom seen—but a treasure-trove of significant life questions regarding generosity, friendship, and responsibility.
What is the nature of the relationship between generosity and self-interest? To what degree is generosity driven by the desire to be loved or admired? Is it possible to be too generous, disregarding one’s own needs? How do money and material possessions shape who we are and how we view others? We’ll be digging into these questions as we get to work this summer.
One of the most exciting aspects about working at PSF is the opportunity to participate in an “Extreme Shakespeare” production—an exhilarating high-stakes performance style that, in my experience, elicits just the right amount of adrenaline needed to say yes to such an undertaking.
On day one, we will come together as a cast for the first time and begin rehearsals. By day five, we will have an audience. And by the end of the first week, it will feel like we’ve been performing it all summer. This is my sixth go at it, and while I think that makes me a veteran of the process, my heart still leaps into my throat. It’s exhilarating and terrifying—like jumping out of a plane.
But perhaps the most thrilling aspect of this process is that we will take this seldom-performed, often-overlooked play and explore its relevance to our society today. Is Timon an unlucky and innocent altruist? An ostentatious self-promoter? Does he learn his lesson about the transient, illusory nature of material wealth and the danger of losing authentic relationships? And how do we navigate our increasingly transactional and material world in search of real connection and meaning?