This is my very favorite play, even over and above the oft-vaunted Hamlet (I have issues with the melancholy Dane since I think he's the ultimate emo kid who just needs a good haircut, a nice swift kick in the seat of his tights, and a call to action) and even though Shakespeare's language leaves a lot to be desired to some people of a modern readership, the insights and subtleties of this particular work are just breathtaking to me. Here are some things to consider:
What Makes Macbeth Easier Than Other Shakespearean Plays
1. One dominant plot; no messy subplots.
2. Swiftly moving plot, with massive rising and falling action to sustain interest.
3. The imagery falls under a few major categories: Blood, Clothing, Appearance v. Reality, Supernatural, Gardens, Disease, Masculinity, Femininity, Evil.
4. The parallelism of the play's structure implies that anything mentioned in the first half will be repeated or interpolated in the second. Nice mode for analysis, no?
What Makes Macbeth Tricky for Modern Readers
1. Diction.
2. Diction.
3. Diction.
4. Well. . .and it does discuss a world view that is frankly at odds with most of our current perspectives. Monarchy? Militaristic ideology that trumps family values? Family values that involve missing children and a woman who would dash a baby's brains out? These are not likable people, nor are they trustworthy.
Every so often, I encounter a student who only wants to read "true stories." I think they mean non-fiction, or at least I hope they do, because the sordid truth, if there is one, is that there are no true stories--only subjective interpretations. Frequently, these same students go on to say that they want a story with people they admire or at least with whom they can identify. I think that's what takes Macbeth out of the comfort zone, too--except for Banquo, whacked in Act III, no one is entirely trustworthy here. The Scottish Play is peopled with jerks and arrogant losers; even our ostensible heroes, MacDuff and Malcolm, are flawed--one abandons his family at the first sign of trouble (although we can see why) and the other is a virgin who lies about his conquests to test a potential adversary. Macbeth famously says, "I begin to doubt the equivocation of the fiend/That lies like truth" but EVERYONE in this play lies. Even little Egg MacDuffin has a skewed view of the universe, and this can be particularly unnerving for a novice reader of Renaissance drama.
So why do we bother? Why read Shakespeare at all, except for the incontrovertible facts that A) your parents had to, and your teachers had to, so dang it, you have to and B) classy people claim that they like it?
Well.
Allow me to don my snob hat for a moment (yeah, like it ever comes off) and defend the Bard for a moment.
Why We Need to Read Macbeth
1. Universal archetypes and themes. Everyone is capable of evil; everyone has ambition. Macbeth, according to Aristotle's definition of the tragic hero, is the bridge between the human world and the supernatural--granted, with the help of his wife and perhaps even the witches--and reading about his foibles can help us vicariously experience the rush of evil and the shattering consequences that follow. He is an example of what not to do.
2. The language is breathtaking. Human speech is not without rhythm; I have long believed that the natural cadence of our verbalizations flows into iambic pentameter more often than not. However, to read such gems as "Look like th'innocent flower/But be the serpent under't" in the world of IM language and L337 is such a rush. For me, anyway. Remember that speech that so excited me from Act V, scene v? It epitomizes woe, but in a grandly poetic sense that so much of modern prose lacks. (The analogy I gave in class: In LOTR, when Gandalf recounts how he defeated the Balrog, the dialogue is reminiscent of Shakespeare: "And I smote my enemy on the mountainside." Gave me shivers. Of course, that might have had something to do with Sir Ian McKellen's declamation than anything else, but I am a sucker for language on a grand scale.)
3. Catharsis. Macbeth allows us to experience the full range of human emotion, through the eyes of both the bad guy and the victim. We sympathize with the clueless Lady MacDuff; we feel the rush of power when Lady Macbeth summons the ministers of darkness; we feel Macbeth's vacillation between grace and evil. Or we should. And when the enemy is vanquished, after MacDuff gloriously snarks all over his frenemy with "Despair thy charm! MacDuff was from his mother/Untimely ripp'd" the audience is supposed to feel the full force of our titular anti-hero's fall. Thus, catharsis--we are along for a hideous ride, a ride that entails human behavior that most non-psychopathic people would never, ever engage--and when the resolution comes, we realize it was all for naught. So what have we learned, kids? Murder is bad. Ambition, taken in too potent a dose, is bad. Listening to your psycho-hose-beast wife is bad. Being bad is bad. It's a vote of confidence for the powers of Goodness, even if it leaves us drained, exhausted, and utterly confused. What a great play.
Check the next post for further explanation of Macbeth. I am on a roll.
