Grabbing your gym bag, you walked out your front door. It was a cool Autumn morning, with the leaves crunching under your feet. It was a sound that had calmed you since you were a child. You tossed your bag in the back of your car before sliding in the front.
As usual, you put on your favorite morning radio station and started to back up. One minute the coast was clear, the next you had to slam on your brakes. Putting the car in park, you rushed to the man that you’d nearly hit with your car. “Are you okay?” You asked, worried. Thankfully, it didn’t look like you’d even tapped him, but where had he even come from?
Slowly he looked up at you, his blue eyes studying your face. “I’m fine.” He said coldly, standing up.
O proper stuff! This is the very painting of your fear: This is the air-drawn dagger which, you said, Led you to Duncan. O, these flaws and starts, Impostors to true fear, would well become A woman’s story at a winter’s fire, Authorized by her grandam. Shame itself! Why do you make such faces? When all’s done, You look but on a stool.
– Lady Macbeth, Macbeth, Act III, sc. 4
Kenneth Branagh & Alex Kingston as Macbeth and Lady Macbeth. Park Avenue Armory, 2014. Photo: Stephanie Berger.
This is pretty clearly a different Macbeth. It is indeed played to the crowd; given the long, two-sided configuration, there are about sixty front-row seats. That puts some three hundred patrons in the first five rows, close enough to see the sweat and smell the mud. There is also some body-checking when the lusty hero returns from the field and “takes” his lady, more or less in the lap of the patron in A 14.