Margaret Atwood - Hag-Seed

“Ferdinand marries Miranda,” says Bent Pencil. “That makes Miranda the Queen of Naples, and she brings the dukedom into a union with Naples. Peace with honor. It’s what was called a dynastic marriage,” he explains to the others.

“Got it in one,” says Felix. “But Prospero isn’t a tyrant: he doesn’t want to enforce a marriage for political reasons, the way Alonso has with his own daughter. He doesn’t want to marry Miranda off as part of a cold-hearted flesh-trade deal. Instead, he wants the young folks — Ferdinand and Miranda — to fall in love, genuinely. So he uses his magic to arrange it. Or at least to help it along.” Nods: they approve.

“I wouldn’t do that to my kid either,” says Leggs. “Marry her off. Sucks.”

Felix smiles. “Prospero also needs to create a situation in which Alonso will accept this marriage,” he says. “Ordinarily he wouldn’t, because Naples is a kingdom and Milan is only a dukedom. Alonso doubtless wanted to marry his son, Ferdinand, into a big, rich kingdom. He’d be more powerful that way. And Ferdinand would have had to marry whoever his father picked.”

“It was the law, in those times,” says Bent Pencil. “You had to go along.”

“Poxy law,” says VaMoose.

“So Prospero makes Alonso think Ferdinand is drowned, and then he does the big reveal,” says 8Handz. “ Look! He’s alive! Cool.”

“And the King’s so blissed out he’d let Ferdinand marry a frog if that’s what he wanted,” says SnakeEye.

“Exactly,” says Felix. “On the one hand, Ferdinand’s pretend death is a punishment for Alonso — it’s revenge, it causes anguish — but on the other hand, it’s a calculated stratagem.”

“Two birds with one stone,” says Krampus the Mennonite.

“Not too dumb,” says SnakeEye. “Good con.”

“So, is Prospero justified in what he does, considering his narrow range of options? Let’s vote again,” says Felix. “Who’s for yes?”

This time all hands go up. Felix unclenches his shoulders: relief. Prospero is absolved, at least for the time being. “We’re agreed, then,” he says. “Now let’s talk about the enforcers.”

“Enforcers?” says Bent Pencil.

“All authority ultimately rests on force,” says Felix. “The island is a prison, and where there are prisons there have to be enforcers. Otherwise everyone inside would simply get out and run away.” Emphatic nodding.

“But there are no enforcers listed in the cast,” says Bent Pencil. “In ‘The Persons of the Play.’ ” He opens his text to the page, consults it.

“They’re present nonetheless,” says Felix. “They do the pinching and the cramping when Caliban has been mouthy, and the hunting of Stephano and Trinculo, disguised as spirit hounds.”

“That’s not Ariel?” says 8Handz. “I thought it was him.”

“Look again. Ariel commands them,” says Felix. “It’s right here. My goblins. That’s who they are: Prospero’s goblins. They aren’t listed in the cast because they were played by whoever wasn’t already onstage in that scene. You put on a mask and, bingo, you’re a goblin. So everyone in our play will have two roles: their own role and one of Prospero’s goblins. They’re the agents of control, but also they’re the enablers of vengeance and retribution. They do the hands-on dirty work.”

Ah yes. He can see how it could unfold: Tony and Sal, surrounded by goblins. Herded by them. Menaced by them. Reduced to a quivering jelly. Hark, they roar, he thinks. Let them be hunted soundly. At this hour / lies at my mercy all mine enemies . He looks around the classroom, smiling benevolently.

“Neat,” says 8Handz. “I get it. Goblins ‘R’ Us.”

Thursday, January 17, 2013.

So far Anne-Marie hasn’t met with the class. She’s been learning her lines on her own, or rather refreshing them. Her first session inside Fletcher Correctional will be on Friday, the day Felix announces his casting, but he’s arranged to have lunch with her first. He wants to prepare her, give her some idea of what she’ll be walking into. Who, for instance, will be her Ferdinand? She has a right to know, in advance.

As he eats his solitary morning egg — solitary because Miranda’s off somewhere in her special private space, and like all teenage girls she’s being cagey about where that is — he reviews the choices he has all but made.

He’s given much thought to these choices. There are the stated preferences of the actors themselves, but through long experience Felix has learned to disregard these. What natural Romeo has not longed to play Iago, and vice versa?

Should he cast by type or against type? Uglies in parts that call for beauty, a gorgeous hunk as Caliban? Put them into roles that will force them to explore their hidden depths, or are those depths better left unexplored? Challenge the audience by showing them well-known characters in surprising and possibly disagreeable guises?

During his past life at the Festival he’d been known for in-your-face envelope-pushing. In retrospect, he may on occasion have taken things too far. To be fair, more than on occasion ; taking things too far had been his trademark. But this time, better not force it. He’ll give the men parts they have a chance of performing well: he is after all a director, first and foremost. The play’s the thing. His job is to help the actors help him execute it.

He’s made a set of notes, partly for his own use, but also to share with Anne-Marie. These notes must never go any further than the two of them, he will emphasize to her. After his fine speech to the class—“I don’t care what you’ve done” and so forth — it would be disillusioning for his actors to find their criminal convictions spelled out in so much detail.

He runs down his tentative list:

The Persons of the Play

PROSPERO, THE DEPOSED DUKE OF MILAN: Mr. Duke, Director and Producer.

MIRANDA, HIS DAUGHTER: Anne-Marie Greenland, Actress, Dancer, Choreographer.

ARIEL: 8Handz. Slight build. East Indian family background. About twenty-three. Very bright. Agile with a keyboard. Highly knowledgeable in tech matters. Conviction: Hacker, identity theft, impersonation. Forgery. Feels justified in his activities, as he believes he was playing a benevolent Robin Hood versus the evil King John capitalists of this world. Betrayed by an older colleague when he wouldn’t hack refugee charities. Played Rivers in Richard III .

CALIBAN: Leggs. About thirty. Mixed background, Irish and black. Red hair, freckles, heavy build, works out a lot. A vet, was in Afghanistan. Veterans Affairs failed to pay for PTSD treatment. Conviction: Break-and-enter, assault. Drugs- and booze-related. Was in addiction treatment but the program’s been canceled. Played Brutus, Second Witch, Clarence. Excellent actor but touchy.

FERDINAND, SON TO ALONSO: WonderBoy. Looks twenty-five, probably older. Scandinavian name. Appealing, clean-cut, handsome, plausible; can seem very sincere. Conviction : Fraud; sold fake life insurance to gullible seniors. Was especially effective with immigrants. Played Macduff, and Hastings in Richard III.

ALONSO, KING OF NAPLES: Krampus. Maybe forty-five. Mennonite background. Long horse-face. Member of a Mennonite ring ferrying drugs from Mexico through the US in farm machinery, under a cloak of piety. Depressive. Played Banquo in Macbeth, Brutus in JC .

SEBASTIAN, BROTHER TO ALONSO: Phil the Pill. Vietnamese refugee background; extended family sacrificed to get him through medical school. About forty. Feels he was wrongfully charged. Conviction : Manslaughter in connection with the deaths by overdose of three young college students for whom he repeatedly prescribed addictive painkillers. Says they begged him to help them. Easily manipulated. Played Buckingham in Richard III.