Anamika Mukharji watches one of Shakespeare’s bloodiest plays at London’s Globe Theatre.
A sea of decapitated heads is strewn around the pit facing the stage at the historic Globe Theatre. Yes, we know we are waiting to watch Macbeth, which is a brutal, violent play with blood spraying this way and that, but already? Before the play has begun?
Actually, it’s just an innovative set idea — a soft black cloth stretches over the pit at shoulder level with rows of slits for us groundlings to put our heads through. Ducking under, I see the bodies attached to the heads around me. Director Lucy Bailey has successfully created her own depiction of the mental Hell inhabited by doomed Macbeth in the play. Drawing on Dante’s description of Hell in the Divine Comedy, she says “Dante describes the very bottom of Hell as the pit (…) the equivalent to the pit of The Globe in my mind.”
This pit, where I’m standing, was the yard from where poor ‘groundlings’ watched performances nearly 400 years ago, having parted with a penny for standing room only. Harsh critics, they demanded their money’s worth with roars of disapproval or even stale bread thrown at unfortunate actors. Today, I’ve paid £5 as a groundling to be part of the action, minus the stale bread of course.
And part of the action we are. As buglers at each pillar on all three tiers of the theatre signal the start of the play, suddenly many of the groundlings shriek. I nearly join them when an icy hand grips my arm. I look below and lock eyes with a pale, red-rimmed gaze. The three witches are sneaking their way to the stage under the black cloth, spooking groundlings on their way. Gathering on stage, they continue to cackle, and the audience responds with sheepish hilarity. Suddenly, one holds up a wallet secreted from a bystander and erupts in raucous laughter. The audience forgets to laugh as everyone hurriedly checks their purses and pockets. Gradually, everyone stills and the witches get down to their evil business:
When shall we three meet again/ In thunder, lightning or rain?
So opens Macbeth, arguably Shakespeare’s bloodiest play. Above us groundlings, the three floors are filled to capacity. But we have the best view. It’s our only reward: watching violence at close quarters, standing throughout the three-hour performance, requires a strong stomach and stronger legs. Shakespeare’s plays are considered high literature today, the focus of scholars worldwide. Their portrayal in flesh and blood reminds us that back in the Bard’s times they were simple entertainment, to be watched in awe by the audience as they recognised the basest and noblest elements of themselves in the actors before them.