Many will nod their heads and make an acknowledging hum if ever you state that Shakespeare was the greatest play-write or poet in history, despite the fact that few have seen or even read half of his stuff. It’s become one of those facts that you don’t argue with unless you are extremely contentious and well versed, probably smugly monocled, and speaking as if you’re from 1756. Without embodying these qualities you run the risk of getting Shakespeare wrong which, given the fact that everyone knows at least a line or two, could go extremely wrong if the lines you quote and criticise are incorrect or understood backwards and noticeably so. Because of this, Shakespearean plays have become riddled with fear inducing connotations of misunderstanding. They are left alone by casual readers or play goers, just for the sake of saving face.
This, sometimes, leads to a horrible thing happening: it goes stale. The misconception leads to misdirection. People assume the stalls of theatres are filled with the monocled who go to watch the deliverance of Shakespeare only to judge the merits of the actor delivering. And so plays consistently follow text and setting, scene and direction, as if Shakespeare were behind the very curtains, calling the shots.
This is why it is such a relief to see Shakespeare shaken a bit.
