“Viola. I am all the daughters of my father’s house, / And all the brothers too”
(Twelfth Night, Or What You Will, II.4.120–21)

In the Shakespearean comedy Twelfth Night, Or What You Will, first performed in 1602, Viola presents herself to the Illyrian court, disguised as Cesario. Hired as a page by Duke Orsino (with whom she is secretly in love), Viola must help him seduce Duchess Olivia, who is in love with the young Cesario. "Cesario" is a character that Viola plays: her masculinity is a theatrical performance, a social construction through which she interacts with the other characters. This façade put on by Viola transforms the play into a mise en abyme, where the actor who played her had to, while being a man, take on the role of a woman who, in turn, takes on the role of a man (the first actress allowed on stage being Margaret Hughes, in 1660).

Shakespeare goes beyond a mere depiction of gender fluidity (as Viola alternates between feminine and masculine traits), he also puts forward the social stakes related to gender: Viola is forced to play the part of a man, because of the limited authority and autonomy allotted to the women of her time. In questioning these gender norms, Shakespeare intertwines gender and power: above all things, Viola's transformation allows her to transgress patriarchal domination. This instance of cross-dressing is far from being the only one in the Bard's literary work: we could mention, for example, Portia and Jessica in The Merchant of Venice, Rosalind in As You Like It, Julia in The Two Gentlemen of Verona, Imogen in Cymbeline, all these women characters disguise themselves as men; as for the men, Bartholomew poses as Christopher Sly's wife in The Taming of the Shrew.

While this performance can be seen as a criticism of Elizabethan gender codes, can we justify this reading of Shakespeare’s work even though boy actors (and cross-dressing, by extension) are commonplace in Elizabethan and Jacobean drama? Can we still see a form of subversion in it, despite boy actors being an everyday occurrence on stage, up until 1660? Should we not consider, as Judith Butler would, much later, that:

Just as metaphors lose their metaphoricity as they congeal through time into concepts, so subversive performances always run the risk of becoming deadening clichés through their repetition and, most importantly, through their repetition within commodity culture where “subversion” carries market value. (Butler, 2002, p. xxi)

If radicality is lost through repetition, does it not vanish even more when this repetition is not only that of an individual act but of an entire aesthetic, or even social, structure that imposes roles on individuals: is the boy actor not then a cliché specific to the Elizabethan and Jacobean eras, or is there subversion to be found in it, beyond iterability? Were Shakespeare and his contemporaries innovators, revolutionaries, rejecting the gendered categories that their society offered them, or were they simply following the customs of their time?

While this question of the radical and subversive quality of gender performance can be applied to Renaissance drama, we could also hold a similar discussion on contemporary gender performance practices. Therefore, we have decided to study the relationship between theatre and gender in today's world too, by looking at two particular figures: drag performers and pantomime dames. These two instances of gender performance diverge: the pantomime dame appeared during the Victorian era and represents a camp character taken from rewritten popular tales (Aladdin, Dick Whittington, Cinderella, Jack and the Beanstalk). The performance is held in front of an audience composed of children, for the most part. Rather than a challenge to gender norms, is the dame a simple character in a play, who has become the symbol of a theatrical event linked to a specifically British childhood? Is this subversion, or, in this case, must we separate acting from any political commentary on gender?

Drag performers, on the other hand, cater to a predominantly adult audience, performing mostly in bars and nightclubs. RuPaul, the most recognized drag queen of the twenty-first century, constantly links drag to Shakespeare. He even dedicates an episode of his TV reality show RuPaul's Drag Race to Shakespeare, producing parodies of the Bard’s plays under the titles Romy and Juliet and MacBitch. Furthermore, he establishes a folk etymology for drag as an acronym standing for 'dressed resembling a girl'.

At the time of Gender Trouble’s first publication, Butler stated that drag performers always seemed to question gendered norms, highlighting their artificial (i.e., socially constructed) nature. However, in Bodies That Matter, she tackles the subject once again to add nuance to her former statement: drag may well show the artificiality of gender norms, but it can also serve to reinforce them, to amplify them. There is a subversive drag, rooted in the LGBTQ+ community, to be separated from drag as a form of entertainment, shown in films, on television, ‘that heterosexual culture produces for itself’ (Butler, 1993, p. 126): Butler then lists Julie Andrews in Victor, Victoria, Dustin Hoffman in Tootsie or Jack Lemmon in Some Like It Hot - we could surely add Wesley Snipes, Patrick Swayze and John Leguizamo in Extravagances.

Is the ambiguity of such performances due to the very nature of dramatic performances, the artifice inherent to drama rendering them unable to produce an illusion of reality? Is this ambiguity not the source of misunderstandings regarding these practices themselves: the detractors of drag condemning it for its underlying misogyny (both from political figures such as Mary Cheney, and from feminist theorists such as bell hooks, Janice Raymond or Marylin Frye)?

This seminar will focus on radicality in theatre performance and the world of gender performance in the broadest sense. We will thus examine both Elizabethan and Jacobean theatrical practices and the revival of these performances in our time. Is the theatre still a place of political radicalism (if it ever was), of advocacy, or even (to use the words of its detractors) of perversion? Is it not rather, like any other mass artistic media, the place of a smoothing out, of a generalisation, of an entertainment that takes over any attempt of political revendications?