Tom Stoppard (1937-2025)

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Tom Stoppard is dead. Let the satyrs and rainclouds weep. Let all who value wit for wit's sake drape their brows with black crepe.

Stoppard's big (and early) break was Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead, a play reimagining Hamlet from the perspective of the two least-developed and worst-treated (Hamet has them murdered) characters in the play, As it plays out, they might have stepped out of Waiting for Godot if only they'd been baggy-pants black and white movie comedians. 

His other great triumph was Shakespeare in Love. He did not write the script for that movie. Marc Norman did, and God bless him for that. But the suits, in an uncharacteristic burst of wisdom, looked at Norman's script and said, "This needs a sprinkling of wit. Let's bring in Stoppard."

The result? Imagine me blowing a bit wet French chef kiss. Mwah! 

Parfait!

His other plays were a varied lot. All were witty. Some were better than others. Many or all may well survive our age. But Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead and Shakespeare in love are timeless.

I know his work and am heartbroken. You should be too.

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