One of the challenges in many of Shakespeare’s plays, especially the histories, is the fighting.  Too often, in any play, it will be going on smoothly until a fight moment ranging from a slap to a duel to full on war sequences and the play stops – the fight is enacted – and then the play resumes.  This interrupts the narrative and as a result is jars both the audience and players within.

This is for a number of reasons, among them are the facts that a fight on stage are invariable false no matter how well choreographed due to actor safety and the theory that the  audience will be pulled out of a too real fight and worry about the actors rather than the characters, the knowledge of the audience that is isn’t real and, more practically, the short amount of time usually scheduled for fight design.

For an audience that is used to the hyper real or fantasy fights of video games, movies and television this is a difficulty – we cannot present the same degree of shock, danger or fantasy.  Many solutions have been attempted from various actors charging into the wings to highly stylised dance numbers.  In my own work, I have substituted stylized movement (Julius Caesar) and gone the complete opposite way with martial arts and combat knife fights based on the Roman short sword in both individual and mass war scenes (Titus Andronicus and Coriolanus).

Both proved effective when kept to a minimum and allowing the individual highlights to shine on key story elements.  Also in all three pieces the language on the combat was there all ready and the language of the fights had been incorporates in non-fight sequences (Julius Caesar was done with red cloth and the cloth had been passed around to each conspirator as they joined the conspiracy, it later became the dagger to kill Caesar, the blood from his wounds passed out by Anthony, etc.).

To address the very valid concern that a fight sequence may rob the import a descriptive passage, like such as in Richard the Third, a potential solution lies in the using the movement to launch the actor into their text rather than replace it.  Wither stylised or not, the movement should move with the text in a dance.  Move inspires text inspires move etc.  There should be a tension between the two that however it is played out is unbroken.

The fights are part of the whole not separate movement dropped in.  Violence on stage, like any other form of choreographed movement should be reflective of the piece and move with it.  The violence of the sword is always present, however it is not revealed until the sword is drawn causing a tension.  The fight design is as integral as the lights, set and costumes to creating the world we are living in and I would argue that the fight choreographer should be involved in the creation process outside the actual fights as much as possible.

Stage violence is also a way to shed light on a character and a situation (for great examples see the fight in Rob Roy between Liam Neisson and Tim Roth or Bidget Jones’ Diary between Hugh Grant and Colin Firth).  How a person dances is just as informative to their character as to what books are in their bookshelves – the same is true with fights.

Additionally, in the unique real but non-real environment of the stage, this is an opportunity to address the experience of combat rather than simply a flashy fight.  Veterans have described the sensation of timespace speeding up or slowing down, extra sharp focus or clarity on specifics and the reverse in blurred and unclear events.   These perspectives and the rhythms inspired by them can further our presentation in given circumstance and character.

By approaching stage fighting poetically, with a combination of movement and combat, we can engage the audience’s imagination, inspire actors within the scenes and further our understanding of the environments we are imagining and the character that inhabit them.