The Scottish Play

Apropos of nothing, a Macbeth story.

In the theatre, Macbeth is thought to be cursed. Here is one of many explanations as to why. As time goes by you encounter people who don't take the curse very seriously at all (that would be me), and those who don't particularly care much one way or the other, and then those who take it very seriously indeed.

Enter Gary Kramer. A proud member of the latter category.

We were doing a production of Farquhar's The Beaux' Stratagem at Emerson College in Boston. Here's a picture of the two of us from that very production, in which I played Boniface, the creepy innkeeper, and Gary was one of the titular Beaux:



I soon discovered that Gary really did not like hearing the Scottish play mentioned in any way, ever, while we were within, say, six miles of a theatre. This meant nothing but fun for me. I already had a habit of quietly reciting a few lines from Macbeth backstage during any show I was in (hey, wait, why did my acting career never go anywhere...?), but this time was going to be special.

Some props person found a pack of Shakespeare playing cards and put them on a table for set dressing. They served no practical purpose, they were just there. And during a dress rehearsal, I was in a scene with Gary where we were seated at that very table. I picked up the cards and started shuffling through them, oh-so casually, and soon enough came across a Queen card with a picture of Lady Macbeth. Extra helpful: the words "Lady Macbeth" were written across the bottom. I flashed the card at Gary so that only he could see it, and then quickly shuffled it back into the deck.

Ahhhh. Gary stood up as if he'd been bitten by a badger, backed away, and started shouting--nay, shrieking in a little girl's voice--"Get it out! Get it out!" And then for good measure, "Get it out!" The dress rehearsal stopped cold, the director came up, the crew all came out, and of course my response was "What's he talking about?" We were obliged to go through the entire deck until Gary was satisfied that there were no more accursed playing cards, and then of course there was the debate about whether, since I hadn't actually said the name Macbeth or quoted any lines, would I have to go outside, spin three times and spit?

Seemed the least I could do. I don't imagine the director was too amused, but I enjoyed it. And now I offer it here. Question for discussion: was I an ass for interrupting an important dress rehearsal, or was it Gary's fault for overreacting to a stupid little superstition? Discuss amongst yourselves.