12. Macbeth and the Scream
I have a vivid memory of one particular moment at a student matinee at Stratford.
We had all piled into the usual yellow schoolbuses, drove 90 minutes to the theatre, filed dutifully into our seats, and the lights went down--all as we had done several times before, at least once every school year in our High School. Nothing unusual there. We attended a production of Macbeth, and the audience was uncharacteristically well-behaved. And then, later in the play, when Macbeth was visiting the Witches, and was shown visions of his future, the Witches created a writhing mass of bodies in the middle of the stage, the words of the play were spoken, and for each prophecy something, some prop, some image, was hoisted high above the Witches, hoisted from their midst, briefly and suddenly seen by the audience. I don't remember what exactly was hoisted high above--I just remember that the experience was visually arresting, and frightening, so frightening that, at one point, when a child--a living, breathing, nearly-naked child, was suddenly raised high above from the writhing mass--I heard screams from the audience.
I had never heard screams in the theatre; I had spent too many matinees spent with well-dressed adults, perhaps. But here, with these people, anything was possible. This audience might not have been paying attention at all. It might have interrupted the performance with distracted whispers, or physical objects. But this kind of audience, clealry, might be rapt with attention, and so 'in that moment' that they were stunned by a sudden change. And screamed.
I have always remembered this moment, because it was just then that I first realized I was at the same performance as my fellow audience members. I hadn't felt that before. I was moved by their being moved, and I was even more attentive than I had been.
So, after all, they were a good audience, if the stage effect was right. And of course, it was the terror of the moment that moved them to a response. Not the words, but the sights and sounds--and most of all, the sudden change of those sights and sounds.
Context:
As I recall, I didn't understand anything that was being said on stage for the first ten years I attended Stratford--it was another language. Whatever it was that kept my attention was visual, gestural, aural, and yes, narrative, because so much of the narrative was held together by all these other elements. Honestly, however much we might want to believe otherwise, Shakespeare isn't, in fact, the language of the audience that attends productions of his plays. We all have to be taught, and in the meantime, we are 'unschooled,' and reading what we can. In this case, if I understand the response of this audience, we can read a horror story, and a tale of greed and monstrous behaviour, by other means.
As I recall, this production received very negative reviews. It was referred to as 'the Celtic Macbeth,' with drab costumes that made all characters look the same, and strange group rituals staged periodically throughout the performance. It was considered unattractive, as I recall, and a bore. I find this interesting--and perhaps it's true that it didn't connect with most audiences. But clearly something happened in this one moment. The sameness of the costuming, the repetition of chanting and ritual movement, the sudden appearance of frightening objects.
Perhaps this was the wrong production for critics, but just the thing for the student matinee....
My earlier description of this the student matinee (The Spitballs...) described an unruly audience--and I'm sure many will count it as negative. For those who like their audiences settled, quiet, attentive...the 'student audience' certainly isn't that. And to be fair, I had that response, in the moment. I was a demanding sort of teenager, I suppose, and not a little (what's the word) self-contained. I had attended that great thrust stage since I was four years old. I knew what was what. Who were these ill-prepared and disrespectful people with me on the bus and in their seats? And why were they not better-prepared, and aware, just aware that these actors were right there, living and breathing and themselves aware of their presence? Be quiet. Be attentive. Sit up straight.
But there was that one first time when I was put in my place.
