42 pages • 1 hour read
Tom StoppardA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
Dressed in Elizabethan clothing, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern pass the time by flipping coins in “a place without any visible character” (7). The coin toss game’s rules decree that the winner of the toss gets to keep the coin. Both characters are carrying leather money bags, but Guildenstern’s bag is almost empty while Rosencrantz’s is almost full. Guildenstern tosses coins which unfailingly land on heads, and Rosencrantz wins each time, collecting more and more coins. While the run of heads is impossible, it does not bother Rosencrantz. Guildenstern, however, is fully aware of the improbability of what is occurring and tries to rationalize it. Rosencrantz continues to watch as his friend flips coins, and he calls out “heads” until he reaches a record of 92 heads in a row. He reveals that the two of them have been playing this game for as long as he can remember.
Guildenstern offers four possible reasons why the coin only lands on heads: Either he is willing himself to lose as some sort of punishment, time has stopped, a deity is interfering with the matter, or it is simply luck. He asks Rosencrantz about the first thing he remembers, but Rosencrantz fails to recall a memory and forgets the question. Guildenstern forms a syllogism—a logical conclusion drawn from multiple premises—supposing that the two of them are “within un-, sub- or supernatural forces” but then dismantles it through reason (12). He continues to delve into why the law of probability seems to be broken and, in the process, reveals that the two of them were sent for by a messenger. Rosencrantz interrupts his companion’s rationalizations to talk about the fingernails and beards of dead men. Guildenstern asks Rosencrantz if he remembers the first thing that happened that day, and Rosencrantz recalls getting a royal summons from the messenger. Guildenstern begins another speech, but Rosencrantz interrupts again to say that he hears music.
A group of six actors known as the Tragedians enter the scene, along with a drummer, a horn-player, and a flautist. The Tragedians’ spokesman, the Player, sees Rosencrantz and Guildenstern and orders his company to stop. He expresses excitement at the prospect of having an audience and explains that his company is starting to “grow rusty” as they stand “at the very point of decadence” (17). Rosencrantz introduces himself as “Guildenstern” but corrects himself after Guildenstern points out his mistake. The Player states that he recognizes the two men as “fellow artists,” which perplexes Rosencrantz (18). He specifies the kinds of performances the company puts on and says that audience members may take part in these performances for a few extra coins. Rosencrantz asks the Player how much it costs to simply watch the show, and The Player attempts to bargain the price with a confused Rosencrantz. The Player takes notice of Rosencrantz’s confusion, sees that bargaining is futile, and orders his company to keep moving.
Guildenstern stops the Player to ask where the troupe is going, and the Player tells him they are bound for home. The Player admits that he and The Tragedians have no control over when and where they perform, adding that they might “play to the court. Or the night after. Or to the tavern. Or not” (21). When Guildenstern declares that he might use his own influence at court, the Player questions whether this influence is real, angering Guildenstern. After composing himself, Guildenstern asks the Player about taking part in The Tragedian’s shows or “getting caught up in the action” (21). The Player gleefully remarks that for only a few coins the troupe will perform an interactive version of The Rape of the Sabine Women. He then tells Alfred, a young boy in the company, to put on a dress. The Player’s desire to put on a sexually provocative show disgusts Guildenstern, who slaps the Player and chides him for being a “comic pornographer” (22). The Player admits that the Tragedians were “purists” in “better times” (22), and he orders the company to move on once more.
Rosencrantz stops the troupe and asks what they do, and the Player says that they perform acts that are typically resigned to the world off-stage. Rosencrantz wants to hear an example of something audiences ask the troupe to do, but the Player calls for the troupe to leave yet again. Rosencrantz prevents them from making their exit and throws them a coin in hopes that they will perform for him. The Player spits at the coin. Rosencrantz becomes enraged and refers to the Tragedians’ performances as “filth” (24).
When the troupe turns and tries to leave again, Guildenstern asks the Player if he would like to take a bet on the coin Rosencrantz threw to the troupe. The Player calls heads and wins. Guildenstern coaxes him to bet again, and they toss the coin for a few rounds. The coin predictably lands on heads each time. On the fifth toss, the Player calls tails. Guildenstern covers the coin with his foot and says, “Heads” (25). Guildenstern’s certainty irritates The Player, but Guildenstern shocks him by picking up his foot and revealing that the coin is on heads. Guildenstern tosses more coins, all of which land on heads. The Player becomes disturbed by the improbability of what he is witnessing.
Guildenstern creates a new bet: He plans to double the year of the Player’s birth, and if the number is even, he wins. The Player knows that doubled numbers are always even, and besides he has no way of paying Guildenstern. The only thing he can possibly use as payment is Alfred, whom he offers up to Guildenstern. Guildenstern would rather see a play as payment, so he asks the Player what plays they know. The Player confesses that the troupe only knows plays within “the blood, love and rhetoric school” (28). He stands still and does not move until Rosencrantz moves towards him. The Player finally orders the troupe to leave and walks away. Rosencrantz and Guildenstern discover that the Player was standing on the flipped coin and that it landed on tails.
The lighting changes as Rosencrantz and Guildenstern find themselves inside Elsinore, King Claudius of Denmark’s castle. Ophelia and Hamlet enter the stage. Hamlet grabs Ophelia and “raises a sigh so piteous and profound that it does seem to shatter all his bulk and end his being” (30). The two exit, and Claudius and Queen Gertrude enter. Claudius welcomes Rosencrantz and Guildenstern but mixes up their names. He declares that Hamlet has become emotionally disturbed and asks Rosencrantz and Guildenstern to “draw [Hamlet] on to pleasures, and to gather / So much as from occasion [they] can glean” since they are supposedly Hamlet’s closest companions (31). Rosencrantz and Guildenstern accept the task, though they are confused by everything around them.
Rosencrantz expresses despair, claiming that he has no idea what he is supposed to do. Guildenstern comforts him and tells him to simply follow Claudius’s instructions. They prepare to interrogate Hamlet by playing a chaotic game of Questions with Rosencrantz pretending to be Hamlet. They are unable to decide on a reason why Hamlet has changed; he may be upset about either his father’s death or Claudius’s usurpation. Hamlet comes onstage again, chatting with Polonius, Claudius’s advisor. Polonius leaves, and Hamlet greets Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. He misidentifies them but then corrects himself.
The key innovation in Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead is Stoppard’s decision to adapt one of the most famous and beloved works of Western literature, only to center the plot around two of the work’s least memorable characters. In analyzing the play’s meaning, it is important to understand the basic plot and themes of the source material. The titular character in Shakespeare’s Hamlet is a Danish prince who learns that his father, the King of Denmark, has been killed by his uncle Claudius, likely in collaboration with Hamlet’s mother Gertrude. Having sworn to his father’s ghost to murder Claudius, Hamlet is nevertheless paralyzed by indecision and uncertainty. Hamlet’s loosening grip on his sanity—some of which is feigned, and some of which is genuine—sets into motion a chain of events that ends with the deaths of nearly every major character in the play. That includes Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, two of Hamlet’s childhood friends who agree to spy on Hamlet on behalf of Claudius. In Hamlet, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are thinly-drawn characters whose chief motivation is sycophancy to Claudius.
In adapting Hamlet by focusing on two minor characters, Stoppard brings the original play’s existentialist themes into even sharper relief. Existentialism is a term used to describe a variety of philosophical inquiries and intellectual movements centered around the dilemma of assigning meaning to human existence in an apparently meaningless and absurd world. Although the term “existentialism” was not coined until the mid-20th century, it is often applied to much older philosophers and works of literature, including Hamlet. These themes are evident in two of the work’s most famous lines. For example, when Hamlet tells Rosencrantz, “there is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so,” he expresses an existentialist idea concerning how meaning is assigned through human action and perception. In a second instance foreshadowing existentialism, Hamlet delivers his famed “To be or not to be” soliloquy, which equates existence to action.
Returning to Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead, the two title protagonists are continually plagued by an inability—or perhaps unwillingness—to exert their will independent of their proscribed identities as bit players in a much larger drama. They are doomed to play the passive sycophants whose inaction brings them only closer to death. In existentialist terms, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern represent an inverse of philosopher Jean-Paul Sartre’s thesis that, for human beings, “existence precedes essence.” For the protagonists, their essence as defined on the page by Shakespeare precedes their existence, which does not seem to commence until they receive the letter from the messenger that delivers orders from Claudius, thus activating their larger role in the plot. This is why essayists at the Stanford Freedom Project refer to Rosencrantz and Guildenstern as “existential antiheroes” (“Rosencrantz and Guildenstern as Existentialist Antiheroes and de Beauvoir’s Subman.” Stanford Freedom Project. Fall 2015). This framing of the title characters highlights two of the play’s most important themes: the futile struggle against absurdity, and determinism versus free will.
Act I also features several contrasting elements that reflect the tension within the plot. Rosencrantz and Guildenstern find themselves on an empty stage, described as “a place without any visible character” (7), but they are wearing elaborate costumes that exude character. The absence of scenery makes the stage appear as a sort of void, which strengthens the overarching theme of the absence of meaning. The costumes, being manmade and designed to fit the tastes of Elizabethans, symbolize a desire to create order and meaning. The stage is larger than Rosencrantz and Guildenstern; therefore, the stage, evocative of absurdity, undercuts the orderly sophistication of the costumes. The clash between the victorious meaningless background and the defeated orderly clothing reflects Guildenstern’s futile attempts to rationalize and pin meaning to phenomena like the coin that always lands on heads.
Rosencrantz and Guildenstern’s character traits are also contrasting. Rosencrantz is a simple, relaxed man. The collapse of the law of probability does not bother him since he is more concerned with winning the coin toss. Although his simplicity renders him a happier person than Guildenstern, he is more susceptible to confusion and forgetfulness. Guildenstern is more complex and thoughtful than Rosencrantz, eschewing simple answers in favor of more philosophical ones. He possesses knowledge regarding the law of probability and believes that “the scientific approach to the examination of phenomena is a defense against the pure emotion of fear” (13). However, Guildenstern’s intelligence and critical thinking skills do not help him come to a satisfying conclusion about the coin, and he is left unnerved and unsatisfied. Rosencrantz plays an optimistic role while Guildenstern plays a more pessimistic or skeptical role, making them perfect foils during the first act. Their moneybags, which are almost full and almost empty, respectively, reflect their mentalities.
The Player draws another contrast: one between the act of watching and the act of performing. He tells Rosencrantz and Guildenstern that they can choose to either passively watch a bawdy play or actively engage in the sexual intercourse scenes within one. The dichotomy between watching and performing correlates with Guildenstern’s concerns regarding agency, exemplified when he angrily tells the disbelieving Player, “I have influence!” (21). If Rosencrantz and Guildenstern choose to “get caught up in the action” (19), then they are allowed some form of agency since they can perform actions within the play and exert their will over the actors. If they simply watch the play, then they are inactive and lack this sort of agency. Rosencrantz and Guildenstern’s inability to decide whether they want to watch or act in the Tragedians’ play foreshadows other moments when the two find themselves unable to decide whether they will act or stand passively.
A fourth contrast exists in the dichotomy between highbrow and lowbrow theater. The Player declares that the Tragedians are “at the very point of decadence” (17), which is his subtle way of saying that they put on scandalous shows featuring sexual acts. Both Rosencrantz and Guildenstern express distaste for such plays. Guildenstern becomes furious when he sees Alfred dressed as a woman and hints at being fond of highbrow “tragedies of antiquity” (28), while Rosencrantz decries the Tragedians’ work as outright “filth” (24). Nevertheless, the two friends are intrigued by the prospect of seeing or taking part in taboo lowbrow shows despite their disgust. They repeatedly ask the Player about the Tragedians’ body of work, and Rosencrantz even throws the troupe a coin to see a performance. This paradoxical coupling of disgust with intrigue adds another layer to Rosencrantz and Guildenstern’s indecisive tendencies and sets a precedent for later conflicting character traits.
As the most insightful and self-aware character in the play, the Player is vital to Stoppard’s commentary on theater. The Player seems to know that he and the other individuals are characters in a play rather than real people. When he meets Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, he addresses them as “fellow actors” (18); later, he declares that he never changes out of his costume. When the Player makes such comments, he addresses both the characters and the audience, acknowledging his fictitious nature and engaging in the modernist theatrical technique known as “breaking the fourth wall.”
Although Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead relies on several elements from Hamlet, the beginning of Stoppard’s play resembles a modern buddy comedy rather than a 16th-century Shakespearean tragedy. Originating in the 20th century, buddy comedies are comedic productions that feature two characters with contrasting personalities going on an adventure. Much like characters in buddy comedies, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern play off each other’s differences and engage in humorous back-and-forth dialogue as they venture to Elsinore.
The play’s style and tone shift from comedic to Shakespearean when the two friends reach Elsinore. Stoppard intentionally pulls a conversation from Act II, Scene 2 of Hamlet and inserts it towards the end of Act I of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead. Like in Hamlet, Claudius and Gertrude greet Rosencrantz and Guildenstern in Elizabethan English, organized in iambic pentameter instead of the modern, conversational language of buddy comedies. Rosencrantz and Guildenstern mimic Claudius and Gertrude by replying in the same linguistic style. The sudden change in language gives the play a more classically melodramatic tone reminiscent of a typical Shakespearean play. When Claudius and Gertrude retreat from the scene, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern return to speaking in modern, conversational English, and the play’s tone shifts back. The switches between styles and tones solidifies the play as a pastiche that celebrates Shakespeare while playing with other styles and genres.
Multiple characters in Act I have difficulties telling Rosencrantz and Guildenstern apart. Claudius calls Guildenstern “dear Rosencrantz” (30) when greeting him, and Hamlet calls Rosencrantz “Guildenstern” (48) before correcting himself. Rosencrantz himself forgets his name and introduces himself to the Player as Guildenstern. These instances of mistaken identity in Act I and throughout the play reflect Rosencrantz and Guildenstern’s insignificance in Hamlet’s plot and in the absurd universe they inhabit. In Hamlet, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are just two paired minor characters without developed personalities, and the reader can treat them as one and the same due to their lack of distinguishing traits. Similarly, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are rendered insignificant by their powerlessness in the face of an unknowable world that has no ready answers and is seemingly predetermined. This existential layer to their insignificance also allows for instances of mistaken identity.
Although Rosencrantz and Guildenstern have nothing “in common except [their] situation” (43), Rosencrantz is unable to see himself as his own entity outside of his pairing with Guildenstern. His inability to distinguish himself from Guildenstern indicates that he lacks a sense of self. This may stem from him being foolish and genuinely unaware, but it may also stem from the fact that he an actor and therefore not really a person by the Player’s metric.
By Tom Stoppard