Or they must try to rip out the whole patch of late plays and Frankenstitch them onto Oxford’s work, where they look alien indeed: iridescent, black and bright at once, against his drab. You can't move that back to 1958, however desperately you want it to be Buddy Holly’s.
(This comparison is unfair to Buddy Holly, who is Gorboduc at least: full of primitive energy and innovation.
Of course: there’s a comic shipwreck in it, on the Isle of Dogs.
There are some astoundingly tin-eared attempts at close reading in this book; but their Table 9.6 cloud-caps them all.
It sets Prospero’s great “Our revels now are ended” side by side with the That first audience was at the Hope, “as dirty as Smithfield and stinking every whit,” as it was used indiscriminately for plays, bear and bull baiting, and whatever catchpenny entertainments Henslowe could devise.
Yet Jonson expected them to get his digs at with its servant-monster; to see its solemn revels—the descent of gods—as a puppet show.
So the Clown in Stritmatter and Kositsky have rewritten Shakespeare as a Holofernes.
Without a shadow of a shade of irony, they have remade him as a mirror of themselves (as they fondly imagine themselves): as a mirror of their re-imagined scholar-Oxford..
You don’t do this kind of stand-up satire on things ten years out of fashion.
Of course: alone of the three plays performed that week, it doesn’t have “Shaxberd” written next to it, it’s explicitly Spanish, and it’s called a tragedy. They’ve shoved in some corroborative fiddlestick on Shrovetide ritual drama and symbolism.