Macbeth Monday: Macbeth (an undoing)

Let’s face it: the women of Shakespeare’s Macbeth are ill-served by the script. The witches are largely stereotypes, there to move the plot along and provide some spookiness amid all the murder; Lady MacDuff appears in only one scene, by the end of which she’s dead; and while she is as commanding a presence as her titular husband at the start of the play, Lady Macbeth’s impact on the action quickly diminishes to nothing, ultimately resulting in an off-stage suicide. Over the years, there have been many attempts to delve deeper into the characters of the women of Macbeth (and their real historical counterparts) or to rewrite their roles and histories. One such successful recent attempt is Zinnie Harris’ Macbeth (an undoing), produced first by the Royal Lyceum Edinburgh and then brought to the states at Polonsky Shakespeare Center’s Theatre for a New Audience in Brooklyn, New York, where I saw it in its limited run in April 2024.

Harris puts the women at the center of the action, restructures their relationships to each other (Ladies Macbeth and MacDuff are cousins, raised together; Lady Macbeth and the Witches (here called Carlin, Mae, and Missy) have a history) as well as to the men (the marriage of MacDuff and Lady MacDuff is far from harmonious here), reorganizes the famous speeches to bring out different depths.

And damn, is it powerful stuff. (I’m not going to pretend the power of the piece is why I’m posting this review five months after I saw the show, which would be a lie. It’s pure procrastination. But here we are.)

As much as I love Shakespeare’s play, it has long bothered me (as it has so many other people; I am hardly the first to point this out) how diminished Lady Macbeth’s role becomes, and how sharply her character changes midway through the play. At the start, she is the strong one, holding to their shared purpose, pushing Macbeth to do what must be done to secure the prophecy the witches gave him, while he is the one who is indecisive, who hallucinates both visually (the dagger) and aurally (the voices crying “Macbeth doth murder sleep…”). Then that all changes, with Lady Macbeth going insane between scenes, reappearing as guilt-wracked sleepwalker, then dying off-stage while Macbeth stays “strong” (for some value of the word) against his rebellious thanes. Harris turns this on its head, in a fantastic sequence of scenes that serve both characters better, in my humble opinion. These are scenes that Shakespeare probably couldn’t have written in his time, but they work now.

Of course, they work so well because they are in conversation with Shakespeare’s work rather than trying to replace it. Throughout the script, several characters break the fourth wall (most notably Carlin, the eldest “witch,” at the start of the play and at the start of the second act, but also Lady Macbeth and others) acknowledging not only that they know they’re in a play but also that they have veered from the script to look at the story from a different angle. That new angle allows Harris to discuss misogyny, gaslighting, and the threat men seem to think strong women pose (in a particularly telling moment, the Thanes begin to address Lady Macbeth as “King,” and claiming it is his Lady who is slowly going insane … because they just can’t deal with the idea that a woman might be running the country not just capably but more capably than the man they elected; remembering those scenes now, in late August 2024, they definitely resonate stronger).

The production is set in a kind of nebulous 1930s, with costumes and furniture clueing the audience in. The staging made incredible use of moving mirrored walls, which indicate not just the walls closing in on the Macbeths but also how everyone’s actions reflect upon themselves and others. As you may be able to tell, I’m trying not to spoil too much of Harris’ changes; there are some moments that need to be seen in their fully staged glory to be as thought-provoking as they should be.

I do have to credit the cast. Nicole Cooper as Lady Macbeth, Emmanuella Cole as Lady MacDuff and Mae (the middle witch), Adam Best as Macbeth, James Robinson as Banquo, and Liz Kettle as Carlin led a great ensemble. This is not to denigrate the rest of the cast. These characters are on stage the most and command most of the attention. Kettle’s Carlin (who at the top of the show is giving a tweak on the lines Shakespeare gave the Porter, who is otherwise missing) was particularly captivating.

If you get to see a performance of this script, don’t hesitate! It’s an intense night of theater, but well worth the intensity to see a familiar story from an angle that plays off the original’s timelessness while still pointing a lens at our modern world.

I was unfamiliar with Zinnie Harris’ work before this, but I will be seeking out performances of not only her reconstructions/reinventions of other classic plays but her totally original work as well.

It is no secret that my favorite Shakespeare play is Macbeth. I’ve lost count of how many live productions of it I’ve seen, plus movie and TV versions I own in various formats, not to mention all the novels, graphic novels, and non-fiction books. Macbeth Monday is intended to be an occasional feature on the blog where I discuss whatever version or aspect of the story catches my attention at a particular moment.

Macbeth Monday: STICK-FIGURE MACBETH

Shakespeare’s Macbeth is not a comedy. (Despite what one might think of some productions’ choices.) It is a dark tragedy, full of blood and murder and the supernatural. Which, of course, makes it ripe for comedic parody. Earlier this year, I saw the New York City company of Drunk Shakespeare perform their rendition of Macbeth, and it was one of the funniest theatrical experiences I have had (right up there with the various Mischief Theatre productions I’ve seen).

I can confidently report that Mya L. Golding’s A Stick-Figure Macbeth (published by GoodTickleBrain.com) made me laugh just as hard. I picked it up during a visit to the Pennsylvania Shakespeare Festival last month and finally read it a few days ago. It is a fast, funny read.

Presenting chapbook style in black-and-white, the art is not truly stick-figure (the way the webcomic xkcd is), because how would you tell the characters apart? But there’s just enough detail to distinguish between Macbeth and Macduff, etc. The slightly more than stick-figure art allows for facial expressions that enhance the dialogue jokes. I particularly loved the long, straight lines representing Macbeth’s beard versus the goatee of Banquo and the full-bodied fluff of Macduff. Dueling facial hair for the win!

The introduction explains that this version of the story contains and the action and blood but omits most of the “richness and vibrancy of Shakespeare’s language.” There are plenty of direct quotes from the play, but most of the dialogue is paraphrased and played on, which is where the humor and charm of the book really click. There’s a running joke of everyone mangling “Thane of Cawdor,” for instance (calling him everything from Thane of Candor to Hodor. I half-expected a Superman reference (to the Kryptonian “Bottle City” of Kandor), and one about Macbeth trying to hard not to think of murdering Duncan that he says “casket” instead of “castle” and “knife” instead of “wife.” (The Introduction is extremely funny for other reasons. Don’t skip it.)

Golding even riffs on the famous “Hecate” scenes (including song-and-dance numbers) that don’t fit tonally with the rest of the play and are usually cut (belief is that they were added by another playwright, Thomas Middleton, after Shakespeare’s death), and on the awkward scene between Macduff and Prince Malcolm (where somehow Malcolm thinks that convincing Macduff he would be a worse king than Macbeth is the way to win Macduff’s support).

Some pages have the action interrupted by a note explaining historical context or some controversy related to the show (is it cursed? What was Lady Macbeth’s first name? and one of my favorites: a panel explaining how the Murderers are just called “First Murderer” and “Second Murderer,” and that Murderers traditionally come in pairs, and positing that these are the same murderers who appear in Richard III and Henry the Sixth Part II.)

I really don’t want to spoil every joke, so I won’t quote any more of them. I considered including a short excerpt of a few panels (with copyright info, of course), but I’m unsure if that would violate proper use laws. So just take my word for it: go find the book!

Perhaps I should note here: I know a lot of people get offended when their “favorite thing” (whatever it is) is parodied or turned comedic. I’m not one of those folks, as long as the parody is actually funny (which this is). If you are, and Macbeth is that “favorite thing” for you --- maybe this isn’t the book for you.

Macbeth is not the only “Stick-Figure” print adaptation Mya Golding has produced. Golding, and Good Tickle Brain, can be found at their website (linked to near the top of this review) and on Facebook (fb.com/goodticklebrain) and Instagram (Instagram.com/goodticklebrain).

It is no secret that my favorite Shakespeare play is Macbeth. I’ve lost count of how many live productions of it I’ve seen, plus movie and TV versions I own in various formats, not to mention all the novels, graphic novels, and non-fiction books. Macbeth Monday is intended to be an occasional feature on the blog where I discuss whatever version or aspect of the story catches my attention at a particular moment.

Macbeth Monday: WHY?

It is no secret that Macbeth is my favorite play by Williams Shakespeare. I will see every live production I can. I have many of the filmed versions on DVD (but not all, especially if you include all the pastiches and “based loosely on…” films). I have comic book and graphic novel adaptations, and more novels and non-fiction books about both the real King Macbeth and Shakespeare’s version than I have ever managed to read.

But if I’m being honest … I have no idea when my obsession with this Shakespeare work started.

 Most of my lifelong pop culture obsessions I can trace back to my father. His love of classic black and white horror films and Abbott and Costello led to my love of all things connected to Dracula. His love of musicals (Broadway and film) and classic Disney (animated and live action) led to my love of all things Arthurian (thanks to the Broadway cast album and movie versions of Camelot and the Disney animated classic The Sword in the Stone). My wildly diverse musical taste (Barbershop Quartet to hard rock)? My love of slapstick comedy and fast-talking comedy duos? My continuing to root for the Mets and the Giants despite rarely watching sports on television anymore? All Dad’s fault.

But Macbeth? Not sure I can toss the credit/blame his way on this one. He was not a fan of Shakespeare (except when there was a musical connection, as in Kiss Me, Kate). Yes, he and his brothers were first-generation Americans of Scots descent (both of my paternal grandparents came from Scotland as adults). But he never seemed to care about his Scots heritage (possibly because of bad blood between him and my grandfather, who passed when I was young), so I doubt Macbeth would have come up in that context.

I can’t even remember when I first encountered the play. I know it was before we studied it in high school. It may have been in the 1937 leatherbound edition of the Complete Works of William Shakespeare published by Walter J. Black, given to me in middle school by my Aunt Frances (who was not from the Scots side of the family), but did middle school me really randomly flip through the book and chance upon Macbeth some 1,100 pages in? I guess it’s possible. Or maybe it was a random Saturday or Sunday viewing of Akira Kurosawa’s Throne of Blood, his adaptation of Macbeth, on one of the local NYC television stations that filled weekend airwave hours with badly-dubbed Japanese martial arts and monster movies (another fave of my father’s, leading to my lifelong Kaiju affection) and occasionally threw in more high-brow dubbed fare.

The first live production I remember seeing was a touring company of British actors that came to Mahopac High School my senior year (or maybe it was junior). What I remember most about that production was that men played the Three Witches, something I’d previously only seen done in the comedy of Monty Python, Flip Wilson, the Carol Burnett Show, etc... In hindsight, it seems there wasn’t much memorable about the performance other than that it was the first time I saw Macbeth live. It certainly wasn’t the last.

Okay, so don’t remember my first encounter with the play, and only vaguely remember the first live production I saw. But the title of this post is “Why Macbeth?” As in, why is it my favorite?

Young me was definitely obsessed with the supernatural elements: the Witches, the visions, the ghost of Banquo! And probably a bit with the bloodshed as well. But definitely the supernatural elements. Middle school was also when I was becoming obsessed with Dracula and read Bram Stoker’s novel for the first time, and when my love of all things Arthurian was also ramping up (most of my classmates didn’t really like reading “Gawain and the Green Knight,” but man did I love it, because supernatural doings!) The more supernatural, the better!

But while those scenes remain favorites and are looked forward to every time I see the show, I’ve also come to appreciate Shakespeare’s depth of character in all the leads (Macbeth, Lady Macbeth, Banquo, and Macduff), and how they respond to prophecy and to plain fact. Even though The Bard was writing several hundred years before the British historian Lord Acton penned his famous phrase about power, I do think that Shakespeare was delving into the concept that “power tends to corrupt; absolute power corrupts absolutely.” Macbeth starts the play as a loyal Thane, confused by why the Witches would address him with titles beyond his scope. It takes him a while to come around to the idea of murdering Duncan; he vacillates mightily before agreeing to do the deed. But it’s all downhill from there. Even having murdered his predecessor, he could still have been a good King, lived a repentant life – but once he has the power, he becomes paranoid and controlling, obsessed with the idea of a legacy the Witches promised to someone else. Corrupt. While at the same time, his wife descends into mental illness, depression, and suicide. Lady Macbeth’s move from enabler and co-conspirator to guilt-wracked sleepwalker is as moving as her husband’s shift from loyal Thane to genocidal despot. And in my mind, there is no doubt that they love each other deeply, from start to finish. I am NOT a fan of Shakespeare’s romances (Romeo & Juliet: ugh) but I think he manages to make it clear Macbeth and his Lady do love each other, which enables us to wonder: in different circumstances, what kind of power couple could they have been?

In his fantastic one-man show All the Devils Are Here, the actor Patrick Page traces Shakespeare’s development of the concept of the villain. Macbeth is of course included in the show. In a talk-back with the audience after the performance I saw in December 2023, Page said something that made me view Macbeth in yet another light. Responding to a question about how he finds his way into playing so many villainous roles, Page said that his first question is always “what does this person ultimately want?” And, he said, for Macbeth that is to overcome his fears. He’s afraid of the Three Witches, so he meets them head-on. He’s afraid of killing Duncan, so he does it. He’s afraid of losing the power he’s gained, so he has more people killed to protect it. He’s afraid of death, so when confronted with Macduff, not “of woman born,” but “ripped untimely from his mother’s womb,” Macbeth cries “Lay on, Macduff, and damned be he who first cries ‘hold, enough.’” I had never looked at the character, or the arc of the play, from that perspective before: conquering one’s fears.

I am also intrigued by the staging and costuming choices made by each new production. I’ve seen the show performed in “authentic” Scots dress of the period Macbeth takes place in (roughly 1040, when the real Macbeth reigned), in the dress of Shakespeare’s time, in Russian military uniforms of the Cold War, in modern dress, and more. Each choice brings distinct aspects of the script, and its relationship to our current day obsessions with power, wealth, destiny, and legacy, to light.

So. Why do I love Macbeth so much? There’s no one reason. I love the supernatural aspects, I love the commentary on power and motivation and guilt and paranoia, I love the power of the soliloquies. I also love that Shakespeare gave us what might have been the first written “alternate history” (because he knew darn well that his history of Duncan, Macbeth, and company was nowhere near the real history) with speculative fiction aspects – which might need to be the subject of a future Macbeth Monday post.

Do you also love Macbeth? Why or why not? And if not – what is your favorite Shakespeare play?

It is no secret that my favorite Shakespeare play is Macbeth. I’ve lost count of how many live productions of it I’ve seen, plus movie and TV versions I own in various formats, not to mention all the novels, graphic novels, and non-fiction books. Macbeth Monday is intended to be an occasional feature on the blog where I discuss whatever version or aspect of the story catches my attention at a particular moment.

There’s currently only one previous Macbeth Monday post, about Drunk Shakespeare NYC’s production. But I also posted my thoughts on Patrick Page’s All the Devils Are Here in a recent Theater Thursday post.

Macbeth Monday: Drunk Shakespeare

It is no secret that my favorite Shakespeare play is Macbeth. I’ve lost count of how many live productions of it I’ve seen, plus movie and TV versions I own in various formats, not to mention all the novels, graphic novels, and non-fiction books. Macbeth Monday is intended to be an occasional feature on the blog where I discuss whatever version or aspect of the story catches my attention at a particular moment.

At some point, I’ll write a post about why Macbeth is my favorite Shakespeare play, and where my obsession with it started. But for this inaugural post, I want to discuss the production I just saw last night.

My niece/goddaughter Morgyn decided at least a year ago that for her 21st birthday she wanted a group of us to see a Drunk Shakespeare performance in New York City. Nine of us in total made the trip: Morgyn, her sister Alex, their mother Margaret, both of Morgyn’s godmothers and their significant other/spouse, her Uncle David, and me. (When it comes to seeing live theater in NYC, Uncle David and I are usually a package deal.) We had an excellent group dinner, and then went to the theater.

For those who may not be familiar, the conceit of Drunk Shakespeare is that five members of the Drunk Shakespeare Society have gathered to perform one of the Bard’s plays, with the firm belief that Shakespeare loved his libations and thus so should the audience and cast. One cast member is chosen to start the show downing four shots of something (last night, it was Mezcal) and attempting to perform a lead role while inebriated, and while getting increasingly drunk as the show goes on. The audience has no prior knowledge as to which play is to be performed, so it was sheer luck that we managed to pick the night they were doing Macbeth.

There are no physical playbills distributed, so my memory being what it is I only recall the first names of three of the actors: J.T. (the “lucky” one designated to drink and play Macbeth); Maya (Lady Macbeth and a witch); and Noah (Macduff, a witch, and others). The other two are identified on the show’s website: Sarah Goldstein (who served as the night’s Host/MC), and Preston Mulligan (Banquo, Malcolm, a witch, the Porter, and others). All of them were absolutely brilliant.

I was truly impressed that as drunk as he clearly was by the end of the show, J.T. managed to still imbue Macbeth’s “tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow” speech with all the heartbreak the speech calls for. Maya’s “out damn spot” speech (enhanced by the glow of the audience’s flashlight apps on our cell phones) was equally impressive. Sarah’s various celebrity impersonations as she broke in on the action to move the plot along (especially her Jennifer Coolidge, Moira Rose, and Gilbert Gottfried impersonations) were terrific. Noah breaking into song as Macduff (including Queen’s “Don’t Stop Me Now”) to motivate himself and the crowd to attack Macbeth was brilliant. And, to quote Morgyn, “I didn’t think the Porter’s speech could get any funnier, but Preston managed it!”

The show is a mix of actual Shakespeare, current topical humor, ad-libbing, and audience involvement, and the performance we saw was a near perfect balance of all of these. The humor injected into one of Shakespeare’s most notable tragedies is VERY bawdy, the reworked Porter’s Speech being the perfect example as it mixed the actual Shakespeare monologue with sexual knock-knock jokes played off an audience member.

Drunk Shakespeare runs a tight 90 minutes, and the writers and actors did a wonderful job of distilling Macbeth down to fit into that timeframe. I don’t consider any portion of the Shakespeare’s script extraneous or easily cut (with the exception of the Porter’s Speech, which while hysterical also slows the pace of the play to a crawl, except here in Drunk Shakespeare where it became one of the highlights), but the cuts and condensing done to fit in the ad-libbing and audience participation and fit the 90-minute timeframe were perfect.

I have no doubt that I’d have had fun last night regardless of the Shakespeare play being performed, this cast was just that talented. But I’m extremely glad it turned out to be Macbeth. Drunk Shakespeare also has companies in Washington DC, Houston, Chicago, and Phoenix.

Theater Thursday: ALL THE DEVILS ARE HERE

I’ve always loved live theater, and in the past couple of years I’ve been making a stronger effort to see more of it. Theater Thursday is a new occasionally series where I talk about live theater, both shows I’ve seen recently and shows I’ve loved in the past.

production photo by JULIETA CERVANTES

“Hell is empty … and all the devils are here,” Patrick Page intones, tapping his chest portentously, in the Instagram ads for his one-man show tracing the history of Shakespeare’s villains. Those two lines, delivered in Page’s basso profundo growl, should be enough to get you to the DR2 Theatre in New York City before All the Devils Are Here closes on March 31st. But if the ad alone, or Page’s multiple social media appearances and online interviews about the show, haven’t convinced you, I hope this review will. Especially if you’re an actor, or a writer interested in exploring the characterizational depths of villains, or “just” a reader or theatergoer who loves Shakespeare.

I’m not the first to describe All the Devils Are Here as a Master Class in Shakespeare, and I’m sure I won’t be the last – but that’s exactly how I felt after the seeing a performance back in December (yes, I’m slow on posting reviews. If you read the blog regularly, this does not surprise you), and doubly-so since the performance I attended was followed by a “talkback” with Page where the audience got to ask him questions about performing and interpreting Shakespeare. Page packs a ton of history, biography, soliloquies, dialogue (playing both roles in the conversation), and memoir into 90 minutes of stage time. I was breathless and exhausted (in all the best ways) by the end of the performance. Page’s energy was full-on and commanding throughout, even in the quietest moments and throughout the talkback.

The play is structured mostly chronologically, following the development of Shakespeare’s villains from the early, simple “maleficent” / “deal with the devil” type characters based on the plays the Bard would have seen as a child through the more complex characterizations of characters like Shylock of The Merchant of Venice and the sociopathic Iago of Othello. Page’s thesis is that our modern fascination with villains is all Shakespeare’s fault, as the playwright worked to create antagonists who were not just one-dimensionally evil but who had depth and nuance, who had reasons (or justifications, at the least) for every evil choice they make. Along the way, Page also charts Shakespeare’s own history and how it influenced the characters he wrote and the plots he crafted. I say the play is structed “mostly chronologically,” because Page very effectively uses Macbeth to bookend the performance, opening with Lady Macbeth’s “unsex me now” speech and eventually delivering Macbeth’s “is this a dagger I see before me” soliloquy when the play turns up in true chronological order. I loved this, as Macbeth is my favorite Shakespeare play. (Like Page, I seem to gravitate to the Shakespeare plays that feature strong villains – Macbeth, Othello, Richard III.)

In between soliloquys and two-character scenes, Page’s tone turns conversational. Yes, this is a one-man show, but Page invites the audience to be a part of it by talking to us as though we were at a meet-and-greet or dinner with him instead of sitting on the other side of the footlights. Of course, this conversational tone turns into a true conversation during the post-performance talkbacks. I do not recall every question that was asked, and I’m still a little bummed that I could not think of a question I considered good enough to ask, but his response to one question has stayed with me. I’m paraphrasing, but the question was something along the lines of “how do you prepare for playing a clearly villainous role?” Page’s response focused on understanding that the villain doesn’t usually think of themselves as a villain, so the actor must figure out what it is the character wants, and he used Macbeth as an example: what Macbeth most wants is to conquer his fears: fear of the witches, fear of killing Duncan, fear of losing the power he has gained, fear of death. Page talked for several minutes about what Macbeth wants and how that leads to his ultimate end, and it gave me new insight into one of my favorite literary characters (and a role I’d love to play some day if I’m ever in a position to act again).

Page also makes effective use throughout the show of simple costume changes (the donning and doffing of a jacket, the addition of a pair of reading glasses) and a small handful of props (a staff, a goblet, an oversized leather-bound volume of Shakespeare’s works) to supplement his performance, and full credit must also be given to lighting designer Stacey Derosier and sound designer Darron L West for the way their work melds with Page’s onstage presence. It’s a shame Off-Broadway works aren’t eligible for Tony Awards, because the director, acting, and lighting and sound work are all the highest caliber. (Also, I’m not sure who decided on the pre-show playlist, but full marks on an incredibly eclectic mix of songs that feature the Devil or devils in general.)

I’m posting this on Thursday, March 7th, which gives you still a solid three weeks to catch Patrick Page’s bravura, moving, entertaining and educational show. Never mind “hie thee to a nunnery,” hie thee to the DR2 Theater!

Guest Post: ZOOM OTHELLO by H. Kevin Opela

It has become hackneyed to say that coronageddon has changed everyone’s lives, but that doesn’t make it any less true. Our lives have been forever disrupted by a seemingly random act of nature, and each of us is trying to figure out how to make sense of it in our own way. How do we continue to find meaning without our jobs, without our friends and family by our side, without human interaction? And while every one of us will define their answer differently, in the aggregate I believe our collective answer is that we are all trying to discover a new path in this new reality. 

For me, that meant coming back to the thing that gives my life the most meaning – theatre - and figuring out a way to make it work on a digital stage. And so I started by asking myself, “How can theatre continue (even thrive) in a time of social distancing?” The only way to answer that was to experiment, and so Zoom Othello was born.

After each performance, the audience is invited to remain online and share their thoughts and questions with the cast and me. The questions I hear most during these conversations are “Why Zoom?”, “Why Shakespeare?”, and “Why Othello?”

The answer for “Why Zoom?” is mostly mercenary. I wanted to take advantage of the incredible popularity of the platform. It’s simple to use, good quality and, most important, almost everybody is familiar with it. Theatre doesn’t have to be populist, but it does require a willing audience. So if I was going to do something new, I had to do it where the most people would have access to it.

The answer to “Why Shakespeare?” might seem to contradict that, but art lives in contradictions. That made it an almost obvious choice – that and my affinity for the Bard! I wanted to see if the immediacy of an online platform made Elizabethan language more - or less - accessible to the general public. What could we do with the extreme limitations of movement, staging, costuming, props and scenery? How can we effectively stage a fight scene when the actors are on different screens, thousands of miles away? How about love scenes? Can we create an emotional connection with the audience through an imperfect medium?

Which is probably what prompted most people to ask the last question, “Why Othello?” But to me, Othello is the best choice. It is one of Shakespeare’s most tightly wound plays. The characters’ choices are easy to understand, and they don’t suffer from too much psychological complexity. Heavily focused on plot, it drives forward relentlessly to an explosive climax.

More important, though, is that it’s all about contagion. One character, Iago – our ‘index patient’ – spreads the plague of jealousy to every other character. No one is immune. And in the end, there’s no justice. Iago is never punished, he never suffers for his crimes. But the world around him, the world he was a part of, is forever changed. To me, it is the perfect analogy for what’s going on right now.

Our collective story – the story of all humanity - is one of defiance in the face of chaos. When the chaotic forces of the universe threaten, we are compelled to strike out on a journey of discovery; we innovate; we create. That’s why we have art and industry. That’s why we tell stories and build narratives. It’s how we define who we are and stake a claim in the history of our species.

I undertook Zoom Othello to embark on my own, small journey of discovery. Like the characters in the play, I am raging against a contagion that I can’t see and against which I cannot win. But I refuse to allow the chaos to deny me the chance to plant my stake, and to say “I was here.”

Othello will continue it's performances this week:

Thursday, May 14 at 8:00 pm EST (Act IV)

Friday, May 15 at 7:00 pm EST (Act V)

Join Zoom Performance
https://us02web.zoom.us/j/87391802207