SeaHeart

I have much, much, much to write about--I wanted to articulate more of my time at Diana's Grove, unwind the story of our journey to the sea (and back again), our time spent in Salem, and the thousand and sundry things my heart has been thinking on of late or the evolutions in my beloved story, and everything, everything after. But, right now, I am borrowing moments, and I only have a tiny snatch of time...and I must articulate this before I burst.

Jenn and I, both deep lovers of Shakespeare, are totally and completely spoiled by Buffalo's incredible Shakespeare festival, Shakespeare in Delaware Park. It's the country's second most successful outdoor Shakespeare company (second only to New York City, which is pretty incredible if you think about it. Buffalo has such a rich, beloved arts community--we are so blessed!), and is free. We've been going together since Jenn moved up, and have seen so many incredible plays there, a few over ten impeccable productions. The thing about Shakespeare in Delaware Park? There's so much heart in everything they do. Shakespeare is never easy to put on, but they create such beauty from it, re-envision it in ways one would never think of, and make the Bard's great plays incomparably alive. They're utterly incredible--enough said~

When I heard, in early Spring, that they would be putting on an all female version of "Macbeth," I think my heart skipped a beat. "Macbeth" was the first of Shakespeare's plays I ever read, and it has a special place in my heart because of that...though it's never been a consummate favorite. But an all female cast? Wow. Wow. I hoped and prayed it would be as glorious and wonderful as my (very many XD) imaginings.

Last night, we went to see it.



So many people consider "Macbeth" to be one of Shakespeare's cliche plays...everyone must read it, everyone is familiar with it, must memorize various soliloquys from it in high school and college. It's been done, it's rote...it's almost impossible to see it with fresh eyes. Impossible?...almost. But Shakespeare in Delaware Park's envisioning of "Macbeth" is a brand new story, a raw, impressive and almost untouchable feat. It lives, it's alive, it has a soul of its own. It was perfect.

Kate Konigisor plays Macbeth. How I've always seen his character was completely different from how she portrayed him. What an honor and a chance to be able to play a title (almost always male) role from one of Shakespeare's plays...and it seems she knows this, putting all she has and more into the creation of this tragic, tortured creature. Jenn and I muddled over why it was so different, why her portrayal was so unendingly beautiful, how she could create such a completely sympathetic character out of one who is--arguably--a monster. Was it because she showed so much emotion? Was it because she had a base rawness, a believability that made it impossible to divorce Kate Konigisor from Macbeth him(her)self? There were so many times when it was impossible for me to distinguish that I was watching a play. It was real, Macbeth was real.

Lady Macbeth and Macbeth's relationship has always been filled with poison and is basely sexless for me. I never saw anything there. Josie DiVincenzo played Lady Macbeth in this production, and completely and forever changed the way I saw this character. She is sultry, madly and completely in love with this man who would be king. She would do anything for him, loves him to hell and back, will be the Eve to his Adam, and most willingly. I know I keep using the word "raw," but this was so basely raw, that it was--at times--too provocative for me to stand. There was so much love there, desire, fragility (I HAVE NEVER SEEN LADY MACBETH AS FRAGILE EVER, EVER, EVER--I mean, she's the ultimate sexless woman, isn't she? She even asks for it by name. But this...this was so different.) and deep vulnerability and passion that--again--she was alive. I could not divorce the actress from the role. I was spellbound, mesmerized, enchanted. The interaction of the actresses on stage was smoldering--and they were so courageous about it. They did not wince away from the revealing emotions or showing of affections. They were two women (or were they?), madly in love, and uncaring of anything else but that love. Of course, it doesn't stay that way.



To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.

I wept when she said this part. I wept when she learned of her wife's death, when she sat down, pale, and began to cry herself. It was so emotional, so deeply painful and beautiful. I've never seen that in these lines. I've never felt so very, very much. Maybe it's because I'm a woman who loves a woman so very much--maybe it's because I could understand every trembling syllable when a woman said it. I don't know. I don't understand, deeply yet, why I was so moved by this part. She said it perfectly, brought a depth of understanding and humanity to this piece that has never existed there for me. Dear gods, it was magic.

The murders (including the stabbing of the infant) were committed so coldly, the set was so sparse, and the infant's wailing instantly silenced...it was eerie and bone jarring. Every hair on my neck stood up when it happened, when the scene ended, there was silence over the lawn. Every single person sat, silent, completely unable to clap. It had seemed almost entirely too real. When Macduff learns of his wife and childrens' death, then--when she said:

He has no children. All my pretty ones?
Did you say all? O hell-kite! All?
What, all my pretty chickens and their dam
At one fell swoop?



She was sobbing when she said it, tears streaming down her cheeks, crumpled on the ground. It was the most moving, beautiful thing I have ever, ever, ever seen. Again, such a rote, known line, delivered with such humanity and feeling that I was reduced to weeping. It was filled with such deep, unseated pain, it was beyond belief. I couldn't bear it.

Shakespeare always makes me feel, and deeply, but every last bit of me was filled, emptied and filled again, last night. Never before, through all of the productions I have seen, have I ever witnessed something so human, so raw, so beautiful and vulnerable and lovingly and hatefully courageous. Every character was human, to the bones and back, and every scene bore pain and lust, darkness and light equally. It was exquisite, perfect, untarnished...a shining example of how black a human heart can be, if that is even possible. It was flawless, and I am undone by it.

The inspiration, crawling through my veins, of seeing people who so obviously loved what they were doing, were so obviously moved by the passions of something so old, but so real and so true...it fills me and fuels me. Women, given half the chance to do something women could not often do...there was deep triumph in that, as much as there was not in Macbeth's sad life.

I am moved, still.


(All of these incredible photos were taken by Chris Scinta for Shakespeare in Delaware Park.)

More:
- Macbeth: performance highlights and interview with director~! (video)
- On Macbeth: Gender and Glamazons
- Compelling Take on Macabre Macbeth