Thursday. English 9: Midsummer Night’s Dream. Look what I found for you, my beleaguered Grade 9’s: a cartoon version of A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Go to the Videos category at the top of this page and find it there. I know you’d much rather watch the cartoon than listen to me teach you it … and truth be told, so would I: it is tedious … however, we all have jobs to do. Mine is to bore you and yours is to pretend I’m not boring you. You’ll like the cartoon and it should make clear the Helena/Hermia problem. Shakespeare would have been much nicer to us if he’d just called them Ethyl and Hermione. Double H’s — in an otherwise confusing play — is doubly confusing.
A reminder: If you go to the Links section above, you can go online and follow the whole play in No Fear Shakespeare. It has a parallel translation. On one side of the page is Shakespeare’s language and on the other side is ours. I’d recommend it.
Here’s what we read today: Act 3 Scene 2 Line 1 to Act 3 Scene 2 Line 389. (To see the scene we read with Hermia, Helena, Lysander, and Demetrius, go to the Video 9 section at the top of the page. It’s the third video.)
What can be said of a man who wins a woman as the spoils of war? Is it a big surprise that Oberon doesn’t know how to treat Titania? What can be expected of a King who thinks tricking people with magic love potions is a good idea?
After their argument about who “owns” the changeling boy from India, Titania goes into the woods and Oberon arranges for Puck to play a trick on her. He will circle the globe, find exactly the right flowers to extract juices from, and make a magical potion. The first person Titania sees when she wakes up she will fall in love with. Puck comes back to report to Oberon. The plan has gone exactly to plan. Titania has fallen in love with the first thing she sees: a donkey — or a man with a donkey’s head, to be precise. This doesn’t bother Oberon in the least. He thinks it’s funny and Puck is off the hook for that mistake.
But before we can find out Puck’s next mistake, Hermia wanders in looking for Lysander. This was supposed to be a simple thing. Go in the woods, run away, get married. It wasn’t supposed to be go in the woods, lose Lysander, get lost. Frantic about Lysander, Hermia questions Demetrius who declares he hasn’t seen him.
Exhausted from talking to this cranky woman, Demetrius falls asleep. Enter Puck, ready for Mistake Number Two. To Puck, one Athenian looks like the next Athenian. Oberon’s instructions were “Look for a guy in Athenian clothes and put the love potion in his eyes when he’s asleep.” This he does. Unfortunately, it’s the wrong Athenian. To further complicate things, Lysander and Helena run in. Do you still remember the beginning and who was in love with whom? Hermia wanted to marry Lysander but her dad was making her marry Demetrius. Helena was stalking Demetrius and he wanted nothing to do with her. Why? Because Helena had been engaged to Demetrius until he fell in love with Hermia and ditched Helena. Not that it did much good. Hermia just wants Lysander.
As if this wasn’t hard enough to follow, Puck gets involved. Poor old Helena has by now absolutely no self esteem, at all. If she had a sign around her neck it would read “I know nobody loves me and I don’t blame them.” So what are the chances two men will fall asleep and magically fall in love with her? Magically and instantly. That’s what happens and that’s what causes Helena to think everyone is out to mock her. She fights with Demetrius and Lysander and then, just to complete things, she fights with Hermia, whom she once considered her best friend. Everyone has betrayed her, she thinks. As the scene progresses, the arguments pile one on top of another. Lysander tells Hermia he hates her and loves Helena. Hermia thinks Helena is mocking her because she’s short and Helena is tall. Demetrius and Lysander both argue over Helena. And Helena just thinks everyone is making fun of her and lying to her. Puck has to talk to Oberon and explain his many mistakes. And that, Grade Nines, is as far as we got!
English 11: Macbeth. You, too, get a video. Yours is not a cartoon, however. Go to the Video section and see Macbeth’s pre-killing soliloquoy when he questions whether he should actually kill Duncan and risk the consequences here and in the afterlife. At 2:07 Lady Macbeth interrupts and gives him a good talking to, then launches into her famous motherhood speech. If you want to see a really creepy Lady Macbeth, go to http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JfYrD7UBxPo&feature=related . This woman is just too repulsive to put on the website. Not much of a surprise that youtube disabled the Comments section.
For those of you wanting to be just as ingenious as Willow — who cleverly has the book! — go to the Links category above and read along in No Fear Shakespeare. You’ll have a parallel translation.
Here is what we read today: Line 155 Act 2 Scene 1 to the end of Act 3 Scene 3.
We began with one of Macbeth’s most famous soliloquies: “Is this a dagger I see before me, The handle toward my hand?” Macbeth is struggling with what he’s about to do. He won’t later, but at this point, he has three witches, his nasty wife, and Fate telling him to be a man is to kill Duncan, to reach his destiny is to kill Duncan. But Macbeth — who still has a semi-functioning conscience — has a problem. Two problems, in fact. One is that Duncan is a nice old man and doesn’t deserve to be killed. That’s not how you treat weekend guests, let alone weekend guests who are Kings because Almighty God has appointed them so. There’s the number one problem: the Elizabethan World View. You simply do not kill a King. Ever.
Then there’s the problem of what happens if you do kill a King. a) In this earthly vale, wherein Macbeth is currently living, you will be arrested, tried for treason, and summarily drawn and quartered, with your head being placed not so gently on a large pike for all to see. And b) You will go to Hell. You have a problem in the current life. You have an even bigger, longer lasting problem in the next life. So what does he do? He talks to himself, hears a bell and says, “The bell invites me.” All it takes is the sound of a bell and an invisible dagger with the handle pointed toward him. Excellent critical thinking skills, Macbeth.
Of course the next scene tells us who’s really egging him on. It’s not bells, it’s Lady Macbeth. Amidst a profusion of animal and bird sounds, all portending death to the superstitious Elizabethan mind, Lady Macbeth waits to see if Macbeth has done the deed she could have done in her sleep. In fact, she would have done it if Duncan hadn’t looked like her father in his. Who knows why she just doesn’t do the deed herself? We can only guess a woman being the stronger sex would have been more of an Elizabethan disaster. Anyway, Lady Macbeth has drugged Duncan’s guards and as they lie face down on the floor in oblivion, Macbeth goes in and murders the King. That done, he goes back to Lady Macbeth to declare he’s done it! He’s finally done something to make her happy.
Not that it lasts. After his seven seconds of marital approval, he looks at his hands, absolutely freaks out, and is told by his wife his thoughts are foolish and that he’s still a wimp. While he panics, Lady Macbeth tells him to stop talking about it, he’ll drive them both crazy. If only she were more observant. Foreshadowing! The Macbeths continue to while away the night talking. Macbeth declares he’ll never, ever sleep again the rest of his life, and Lady Macbeth responds by telling him to stop it and go put the daggers back in Duncan’s room. Who carries the evidence with them? Macbeth begs not to be sent back to the scene of the crime, Lady Macbeth calls him a coward, and off she goes to smear blood all over the sleeping guards’ faces, thereby ensuring they’ll be blamed for the death and killed. You can tell she really wishes Duncan hadn’t looked like her dad. It’s hard being behind the scenes when you’re the one with all the talent.
Someone knocks at the front door. Macbeth goes into a terrified tailspin and then gives a little speech about never getting the blood off his hands; this prefigures a big speech his wife will give later on when she goes stark raving crazy. But for now, she is not crazy, just incredibly bossy. Back she comes to once again mock him for his cowardice. Then just when we can’t handle one more minute of Macbeth’s overwhelming guilt and Lady Macbeth’s lack of it, Shakespeare gives us the Porter Scene. It’s a drunken porter thinking he’s guarding the Gates of Hell. While it’s supposed to be funny, there’s actually a part of us thinking, You know he actually is guarding the Gates of Hell. Casa Macbeth is not a good place to be. Macduff and Lennox, two aristocratic Scots, appear and have a happy little conversation about drunkeness and that’s the end of that scene.
Macbeth talks to Macduff and Lennox about what a great guest Duncan has been (Quiet as a mouse! Dies well. Doesn’t eat much.), going on and on about how honoured he is to have had the great King visit him. Imagine your job is to wake the King. Macduff doesn’t have to. It is his job. But not today. In he goes, discovers the King just won’t wake up, and out he runs, yelling “O horror, horror, horror!” It seems applicable. Macbeth acts all innocent and shocked. Macduff, the royal waker-upper, runs from room to room waking up the entire castle. Treason! Murder! Everyone has to come out and talk about it.
Lady Macbeth wins a future Academy Award for acting shocked, Macbeth does his best not to visibly panic and mumble incoherently, “I did it. It was me, me, me,” and Donalbain and Malcolm get the picture instantly. As Duncan’s sons and heirs to the throne, they are next in line to be murdered.
Macbeth tells everyone he was so upset over Duncan’s murder he inconveniently murdered the murderers in a fit of unwise bewilderment. Lady Macbeth looks at him, thinks, ‘What kind of an idiot did I marry? I have to do everything myself,’ and distracts everyone with a great big fake fainting fit.
Malcolm and Donalbain have a quiet conversation about their imminent deaths if they stay at the Macbeth B&B and decide to go far, far away. Donalbain will go to Ireland and Malcolm to England, where he will probably be mocked for being Scottish.
Meanwhile, outside, the weather is bad. Portents and omens abound. Chimneys are knocked over in wild winds, the sky is pitch black in the middle of the day, and owls are killing falcons. Even if you didn’t know the King was killed, you’d guess. Macduff comes out and has a conversation with Ross and the Old Man, declaring his belief that obviously Malcolm and Donalbain have killed their father because they’ve left the castle.
They bribed the guards to kill their father, Macduff thinks, and doesn’t that just dismantle the old Elizabethan World View. A son killing his father to move up the hierarchy? It’s just like an owl killing a falcon. Or a wife nagging her husband. Or, I don’t know, basing all your decisions on three creepy witches in a Highland swamp covered in fog. Some things you should be able to figure out without an instruction booklet.
Aside: Have you noticed? Macbeth is easily led by certain kinds of women. Not to be sexist, but you have to wonder what Mommy Macbeth was like. And Daddy Macbeth, when you think about it. This “I believe you because you’re a woman and you’re telling me” trait is very un-Elizabethan. Shakespeare’s whole audience — Elizabethans! — would have known Macbeth was doomed from the first scene.
So. Where’s Duncan’s body? On it’s way to the Hebrides, the land of sheep and very little else. Who’s going to Scone, ancestral home of all the Kings of Scotland? Ross. Who’s going to Fife? MacDuff. Have you noticed no one wants to stay with the Macbeths anymore?