Editorial
MARGARET LITVIN
To my knowledge, this is the first essay collection in any language
to be devoted to Arab appropriations of Shakespeare. Studies of
international Shakespeare appropriation have mushroomed over the
past fifteen to twenty years. Excitement began to build in the 1990s,
as several lines of academic inquiry converged. Translation theorists
found in Shakespeare’s plays a convenient (because widely known
and prestigious) test case. Scholars in performance studies, having
noted how sharply local context could influence a play’s staging and
interpretation, saw a need to account for ‘intercultural’ performances
of Shakespeare in various languages and locales. Marxist scholars
became interested in the fetishisation of Shakespeare as a British
cultural icon which, in turn, was used to confer cultural legitimacy
on the project of capitalist empire-building. Scholars of postcolonial
drama and literature explored how the periphery responded. The
‘new Europe’ provided another compelling set of examples. All this
scholarship has developed quickly and with a great sense of urgency.
Shakespeareans in many countries have contributed. By now there
is a rich bibliography on Shakespeare appropriation in India, China,
Japan, South Africa, Israel and many countries in Latin America and
Eastern and Western Europe.
Until recently, scholars of Arabic literature and drama were mainly
passive participants in this growing Shakespeare conversation.
The Arab world went unnoticed in the numerous edited volumes
on international Shakespeare reception and appropriation. Though
often aware of the major congresses on the subject, Arab scholars
were rarely represented there. The World Shakespeare Bibliography
Online, which catalogues materials in 118 languages, has had only
one active Arabic-speaking contributor in the past decade. Interesting
studies of Shakespeare reception written in Arabic have not been
translated. In English, a handful of articles and dissertations has
Critical Survey
doi:10.3167/cs.2007.190301
Volume 19, Number 3, 2007: 1–5
ISSN 0011-1570 (Print), ISSN 1752-2293 (Online)
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Critical Survey, Volume 19, Number 3
represented the field. When scholars in Europe and the United States
have occasionally mentioned ‘Arab Shakespeare’ to their colleagues,
they have presented it almost as a novelty. Sometimes they have not
hesitated to draw easy laughs by invoking the old legend or joke that
Shakespeare was really a crypto-Arab, ‘Shaykh Zubayr’.1
However, this situation is changing quickly. In 2006 and 2007 the
World Shakespeare Congress and the Royal Shakespeare Company
(RSC), respectively, welcomed contributions by Arab playwrights.
Shakespeareans and scholars of Arab drama and literature are
getting better at talking to each other. (I should note that Graham
Holderness has personally done much to help this trend with his
involvement and encouragement over the past two years.) And as the
articles in this issue will attest, Shakespeareans and Arabists alike are
taking a variety of approaches to the question of what Arab readers,
translators, rewriters, producers, directors, critics and audiences do
with Shakespeare.
Shakespeare’s plays have been known to Arab audiences since
the late nineteenth century. The first encounter was not through
literature but through the Egyptian stage, where French versions of
Shakespeare’s tragedies were adapted to suit playgoers’ habits and
tastes. Mark Bayer traces an early version of Romeo and Juliet called
Shuhada’ al-Gharam [The Martyrs of Love], adapted by Najib alHaddad around 1890 and performed for over twenty years. Rather than
evaluate this show on its (in)fidelity to Shakespeare, Bayer argues, it is
more fruitful to ask how its adapter, producers and stars made it such
a hit. Mixing high and pop culture, The Martyrs of Love met Cairo
audiences halfway by incorporating familiar singing styles, literary
tropes and ‘more of a love story’ than Shakespeare had provided. By
responding to market needs, the play helped to popularise Shakespeare
and to develop a habitus of theatregoing among ‘the growing class of
Egyptians with the time and the disposable income to attend’.
Continuing in the Bourdieusian vein, Sameh F. Hanna examines
Shakespeare’s decommercialisation at the hands of Khalil Mutran
(1872–1949), a Lebanese-born translator whose 1912 Othello set
a new standard for Arabic versions of Shakespeare. Unlike earlier
adapters, Hanna argues, Mutran enjoyed a high social standing and
did not depend on translation for a living. Instead, he invested in the
cultural capital of classical Arabic, turning Shakespeare into Arab
high culture to serve a pan-Arab political agenda. As a result, Hanna
shows, Mutran’s Othello not only omits all references to ethnicities
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and religions (Turks, Christians etc.) but also turns Othello into an
eloquent speaker, smoothing over his moments of incoherence and
psychological collapse.
Khalid Amine analyses a more overtly playful instance of
Shakespeare appropriation: Ophelie N’est Pas Morte, an absurdist
play written in 1968 in Paris by the Moroccan playwright/director
Nabil Lahlou. Amine examines how Lahlou places two ‘voluntarily
paralysed’ characters named Hamlet and Macbeth into a Beckettian
frame, using a pattern of ‘microdramas’ to comment on the
‘aggression, fear and longing’ characteristic of the postcolonial
condition. In so doing, Amine argues, Lahlou revises Beckett as
well as Shakespeare from a postcolonial perspective.
Margaret Litvin briefly surveys the post-1952 Arab Hamlet tradition
and proposes a new model of Shakespeare appropriation that helps to
explain its trajectory. Rather than imagine a direct bilateral exchange
between Shakespeare and his rewriter, this model emphasises the ‘global
kaleidoscope’ of indirect sources and models that help constitute a
would-be appropriator’s experience of a Shakespearean text. Litvin’s
example, the reception and appropriation of a 1960s Soviet Hamlet
film in Egypt, points to the (now overlooked) significance of Soviet and
Eastern European models in Cold War-era Arab cultural production.
One of the ambitions of this volume is to showcase a range of
Arab Shakespeare appropriations from the earliest examples to the
present day. On the contemporary side, Rafik Darragi analyses three
adaptations, Richard III, Othello and Romeo and Juliet, produced
between 1984 and 2007 by the prominent Tunisian directors Mohamed
Kouka, Tawfiq Al Jibali and Mohamed Driss. Drawing on interviews
with the directors as well as his longtime personal involvement in
the Tunisian dramatic and literary scene, Darragi traces the different
subtexts that directors and audiences have found in Shakespeare’s
plays. For instance, an antifundamentalist satire presented through
Richard III was lost on audiences in 1984 but had gained resonance by
1992. Meanwhile, two very different recent Othello offshoots (a twocharacter modern dance piece and a ‘faithful’ dramatic production)
both used intercut video footage to stress the interconnection of
racism, power and war.
Bryan Loughrey and Graham Holderness confront a contemporary
comedy-turned-tragedy in the Gulf: a 2005 production of Twelfth Night
in Doha, Qatar, cut short by a suicide bomb that killed its amateur
director, Jonathan Adams. Juxtaposing jihadist screeds and the
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recollections of surviving members of the Doha Players with analysis
of Shakespeare’s text, Holderness and Loughrey offer not so much a
formal study of ‘Shakespeare and Terrorism’ as a deeply empathetic
meditation on both the irresponsibility of innocence and the self-defeat
of excessive literalism. The ‘Doha atrocity’ pushes them to reread
Twelfth Night from the perspective of Malvolio, who ‘places himself
outside the newly integrated community of the play, and casts a shadow
over its delicately achieved balance of concord and reconciliation:
which, we recognise, has been attained only at the cost of ejecting an
inassimilable fragment’. After hearing him out, they argue, it becomes
‘harder to view a performance of Twelfth Night, in Qatar, on the second
anniversary of the invasion of Iraq, as harmlessly innocent’. And yet,
they note, Omar Ahmed Abdullah Ali’s bomb pre-empted not only
Feste’s speech, but Malvolio’s as well.
Finally, Graham Holderness looks at the first Arabic-language
play commissioned by the RSC: Sulayman Al-Bassam’s Richard III:
An Arab Tragedy (2007). Al-Bassam’s play, set in a contemporary
Gulf Arab context, dramatises the ‘nightmare’ of a succession crisis
complicated by military/civilian struggles, oil wealth, religious
demagoguery and a meddling foreign (U.S.) power poised to invade.
Holderness reads An Arab Tragedy against the background of AlBassam’s earlier adaptations of Hamlet. In contrast to An Arab
Tragedy’s British critical reception, which evaluated the play on its
exoticism and its cleverness in finding correlatives for Shakespeare’s
text, Holderness argues ‘that the true achievement of Arab Tragedy
lies less in its astute political parallels and historical comparisons,
and more in the crosscultural encounters it sets up between Western
and Arab societies’. Al-Bassam’s drama, Holderness finds, ‘has the
capacity to take the spectator deeper not only into Arab culture, but
into territories of myth and communal emotion where transcultural
rapprochements can more effectively take place’.
In our out-of-joint times, ‘Arab’ and ‘Western’ cultures are being
constructed for us, more than ever before, as mutually defining
opposites. A whole range of crosscultural encounters is now inevitable.
Even while questioning the underlying binarism, projects like this
volume aim to pluck some transcultural fruit from it. One clarification
would be made on the scope of this issue. This collection sets out to
address ‘Arab’ rather than ‘Arabic’ Shakespeare; the former is loosely
an ethnic category (people of Arab background, wherever they live
and whatever they speak), the latter a linguistic one. Two of the
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contributions – by Khalid Amine and Graham Holderness – discuss
Arab Shakespeare appropriations in other languages: Lahlou’s play
is in French, and Al-Bassam’s Al-Hamlet Summit began its career in
English. But by referring instead to ‘Arab’ Shakespeare, this issue’s
contributors do not imply any attempt to represent the Arab world
comprehensively (just for a start, we have not touched on Syrian or
Lebanese Shakespeares, Arab-American Shakespeares, Shakespeare
in Arab poetry or film …). Nor do we wish to posit any unified ‘Arab’
style of appropriating Shakespeare’s work. Such a claim would ignore
the geographical and historical specificities that are precisely the
point of this enterprise.
Note
1. See, e.g., M.M. Badawi, ‘Shakespeare and the Arabs’, Cairo Studies in English
(1963/1966): 181–96, originally presented to the British Shakespeare Society on the
occasion of the quadricentennial of Shakespeare’s birth. Badawi opens his talk with this
‘theory’. Usually invoked in jest, it holds that Shakespeare was an Arab Muslim living in
Britain. Among the ‘evidence’ are Shakespeare’s full lips and ‘Islamic’ beard; his many
treatments of mistaken or doubtful identity; and his allegedly unflattering views of Jews,
Turks and the British (supposedly clear in The Merchant of Venice, Othello and the history
plays). Badawi and Ferial Ghazoul trace the ‘theory’ to a mid-nineteenth-century Lebanese
comic writer, Ahmad Faris Al-Shidyaq; it was later taken up in earnest by Iraqi scholar
Safa’ Khulusi and then painstakingly refuted by Ibrahim Hamada in an extended essay,
‘The Arabness of Shakespeare’.The Shaykh Zubayr story has not drawn headlines since
Libyan leader Muammar Qadhafi invoked it (perhaps jokingly) in 1989. But it has continued
to catch the imaginations of intercultural Arab writers in the United States and Britain,
including Diana Abu Jaber and Sulayman Al-Bassam. This joke’s persistence, mainly in
the West, suggests that it taps into some real intercultural anxiety. See Ferial J. Ghazoul,
‘The Arabization of Othello’, Comparative Literature 50.1 (1998), 9; and Ibrahim Hamada,
Urubat shiksbir: dirasat ukhra fi al-drama wa-al-naqd [The Arabness of Shakespeare: Other
Studies in Drama and Criticism] (Cairo: Al-Markaz al-Qawmi lil-Adab, 1989). For a unique
variation, see Wole Soyinka, ‘Shakespeare and the Living Dramatist’, in Art, Dialogue, and
Outrage: Essays on Literature and Culture (New York: Pantheon, 1988), pp. 147–62.