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If William Shakespeare Came to Hollywood Today…
Ted Gioia/March 9/25
Excerpted from article
‘Shakespeare compares artists to lovers and lunatics. That’s not the attitude of someone who trusts quants or algorithms to make creative decisions.
That’s why, if Shakespeare were alive today, he would go indie. He wouldn’t waste time with studio execs—he would know they are a lost cause.
Instead he would set up an alternative Stratford-on-Avon, perhaps establishing it in a small community theater, or even online. He would be willing to start small, because it’s better to do it his way, even on a tiny scale, rather than play by broken rules imposed by broken rulers.
And he would have confidence that he could build it over time.
Shakespeare did that in his own lifetime—performing in lowly settings before setting up shop in the Globe Theater. He probably acted in inns or even bear-baiting pits during his early career.
We would call that alternative media nowadays.
So my hunch is that if Shakespeare really did visit Hollywood today, he wouldn’t stay long. He would exit stage left in search of a more bearable environment. And if he couldn’t find one, he’d create it himself.
If there any future Shakesepares out there now, they will do the same. And it’s Hollywood’s loss.
Maybe the execs will figure this out before their time runs out. But that won’t be long—because even multimodal content gets stale very fast.’
Court Painter roused the studio scribe Chatterly Gargantuan Perposterous Thunderbuns (Chat GPT) to utilize the excerpt and inspirationally compose a contemporary poem in Rhyming Couplets Bardian style. Press Attache AHM butted in for final poetic polishing and editing with apologies to article author Ted Gioia.
Shakespeare goes indie
A lover, lunatic, poet thrice entwined,
Would shun the chains where digital arts are blind.
No trust in ledgers, nor in click bait and snares,
Nor viral whims that fickle fate declares.
Were he to present upon our glowing screens,
He’d mock the lords who script AI scenes.
No Bitcoin nor algorithm steers his hand,
Nor soulless backers ruling o’er the land.
Instead, a Stratford forged anew he’d claim,
Where art stands tall, unmoved by the celebrity frame.
A modest stage, or some indie scene
Yet there his words would blaze with truth supreme.
For better humble, sovereign is his way,
Not bound to trends that twist the soul astray.
Did he not rise from bawdy, profound ground,
Where wit ran wild with rowdy crowds unbound?
The Globe was not a palace at its birth,
Yet its name resounds now, round the earth.
So too, true bards defy the hollow slop,
While monitized influencers refuse to stop.
Thus, bring him forth where neon algorithms be—
He’d spurn and turn, for art must ever be free.
