Shakespeare Project
Reflection
The primary basis of the entire Shakespeare project was to instill deeper levels of understanding, connection, and (hopefully) love betwixt the students and this generally ill-received topic. Whether it was through acting out scenes, watching films, slowly deciphering text, researching Elizabethan England, or insulting each other Shakespearean-style, we thoroughly immersed ourselves in the project. However, as we progressed in our work, we came to realize that the Shakespeare project wasn’t a project at all— it was a culture and an experience. My role in it all was that of a director. It was my job to both cut sixty percent of the script while still retaining meaning, and to give out pointers for those in the recording room. Also, I played the Macbeth character of Hecate in our final production. She was one of the few characters who warranted a live acting scene, so I had to memorize my lines and preform in front of an audience.
What I connected with and what I liked most was definitely the script cutting. Since I had to reread Macbeth over and over again, I developed a feeling of attachment to the script. This sprouted from a deeper understanding of the play, which I acquired through watching professional actors perform scenes and by looking up the modern translations of tricky phrases. This leads me into a favorite moment of mine. It had been a long night of arduous script cutting and note taking, and I was reading the modern translation for Lady Macbeth’s hallucination scene. I found myself thinking, Wow, this part makes for such awesome movies! The fascinating part was that I often say that when reading modern fiction, and I was shocked that the feeling extended to Shakespeare. It was then that I realized that no matter how many negative deceptions surround such works, they still hold the same value and pure awesomeness of the books I read at home. I immediately clicked to YouTube and watched countless scenes of Macbeth preformed live, and thus received my inspiration for the rest of the project.
The most difficult part of the entire experience was overcoming the initial skepticism I regarded the production with. I had taken a miniature Shakespeare class before, and had not established the connection with it that I had hoped for. My preparation journals were half-hearted, and my enthusiasm had long since plummeted. However, in a last-ditch effort, I adopted the mindset that I would only get out of the unit what I put into it. This meant that when the job sign up sheet was passed around, I listed “Director” as my first choice, which just so happened to be one of the most difficult and time-consuming roles. True to my assumption, when I was assigned my first choice job and participated in the first conversation with the other three directors, I immediately felt a genuine enjoyment for what I was doing.
The most important thing I learned about myself during this project was that the only limitations that truly posed a threat to my experience were those that I set for myself. What I had to discover for myself was that no one, no matter how remarkable, can make me like what I have set in my head as disliked. I am the type of person, I realized, that needs to try everything for myself and collect my own opinions, rather than draw conclusions based off of other people’s participatory adventures.
From the beginning, one essential question was written on the front board, one that I could never formulate a solid answer for. “Why, 400 years later, does the English-speaking world still celebrate the works of William Shakespeare?” The answer was simple; nonetheless, it eluded me until our Shakespeare studies drew to a close. Truly, every one of Shakespeare’s works are just as human as the rest of us. Every character, every plot twist, every bit of mischief, are prompted by emotion in its rawest form, the form we know best. In understanding the host of negative feelings— fear, guilt, contempt, self-righteousness, and paranoia, as well as the positive ones— pride, honor, achievement, friendship, and love, we obtain even more than a knowledge of character motives. Cleverly veiled in less relatable contexts are all too familiar emotions present in our everyday lives. While it may not seem like it, in learning about the inner workings of King Macbeth’s thoughts, we learn more about ourselves than we could ever imagine.
What I connected with and what I liked most was definitely the script cutting. Since I had to reread Macbeth over and over again, I developed a feeling of attachment to the script. This sprouted from a deeper understanding of the play, which I acquired through watching professional actors perform scenes and by looking up the modern translations of tricky phrases. This leads me into a favorite moment of mine. It had been a long night of arduous script cutting and note taking, and I was reading the modern translation for Lady Macbeth’s hallucination scene. I found myself thinking, Wow, this part makes for such awesome movies! The fascinating part was that I often say that when reading modern fiction, and I was shocked that the feeling extended to Shakespeare. It was then that I realized that no matter how many negative deceptions surround such works, they still hold the same value and pure awesomeness of the books I read at home. I immediately clicked to YouTube and watched countless scenes of Macbeth preformed live, and thus received my inspiration for the rest of the project.
The most difficult part of the entire experience was overcoming the initial skepticism I regarded the production with. I had taken a miniature Shakespeare class before, and had not established the connection with it that I had hoped for. My preparation journals were half-hearted, and my enthusiasm had long since plummeted. However, in a last-ditch effort, I adopted the mindset that I would only get out of the unit what I put into it. This meant that when the job sign up sheet was passed around, I listed “Director” as my first choice, which just so happened to be one of the most difficult and time-consuming roles. True to my assumption, when I was assigned my first choice job and participated in the first conversation with the other three directors, I immediately felt a genuine enjoyment for what I was doing.
The most important thing I learned about myself during this project was that the only limitations that truly posed a threat to my experience were those that I set for myself. What I had to discover for myself was that no one, no matter how remarkable, can make me like what I have set in my head as disliked. I am the type of person, I realized, that needs to try everything for myself and collect my own opinions, rather than draw conclusions based off of other people’s participatory adventures.
From the beginning, one essential question was written on the front board, one that I could never formulate a solid answer for. “Why, 400 years later, does the English-speaking world still celebrate the works of William Shakespeare?” The answer was simple; nonetheless, it eluded me until our Shakespeare studies drew to a close. Truly, every one of Shakespeare’s works are just as human as the rest of us. Every character, every plot twist, every bit of mischief, are prompted by emotion in its rawest form, the form we know best. In understanding the host of negative feelings— fear, guilt, contempt, self-righteousness, and paranoia, as well as the positive ones— pride, honor, achievement, friendship, and love, we obtain even more than a knowledge of character motives. Cleverly veiled in less relatable contexts are all too familiar emotions present in our everyday lives. While it may not seem like it, in learning about the inner workings of King Macbeth’s thoughts, we learn more about ourselves than we could ever imagine.