Macbeth
Gielgud Theatre, London, UK.
Transferring to The Gielgud Theatre in London after a sell-out run in Chichester, Rupert Goold's production of Macbeth is a chilling vision of bloody death and supernatural horror that far exceeds the frights of any modern horror movie.
From the start this play tries to inspire a sense of disquiet in the
audience, by use of oppressive sound effects, flickering lights, and
disturbing projections. The first half of the production builds suspense
that reaches a climax just before the interval and leaves the audience
gasping for the next twenty minutes. The second half then turns up the
horror dial and throws in plenty of blood, paranoia, and some downright
grisly images. The horror in Macbeth works on several levels: the
supernatural (the witches), the tormenting inner demons of the
imagination (Lady Macbeth’s dreams), and the cruelty and sacrilege of
murder. Goold succeeds in bringing to the fore the true ghastliness of
all.
The set is a white tiled subterranean room, with the only furniture a
metal table and a large butler sink. It has a clinical air about it but
with patches of damp and decay evident: it could be a hospital or a
morgue (in turn it is both). A lift sits at the back of the room, the
kind with sliding latticed doors that make an ominous groan every time
they are opened or closed. Used as an entrance this apparatus serves to
increase the tension as it descends; we can see it coming down but not
who or what it brings with it. The set itself somehow creates a sense of
uneasiness, of despair - perhaps because there is something of the
slaughterhouse in all those white tiles.
Goold chooses to transpose the first two scenes of the play, so that
scenes I and III run into one another, creating a bolder and more
sinister first impression of the witches. Indeed the witches, when we
meet them, turn out to be the three nurses who were a moment ago
attending to a wounded sergeant. When Macbeth first comes upon them and
wonders what they are, ruminating 'you should be women, And yet your
beards forbid me to interpret That you are so' we see that they are
wearing surgical masks pulled down over their chins. When they vanish,
it is into the smoke of the elevator. Later on they are revealed as
serving maids in Macbeth's own house, making much use of knives,
beheading animals, stuffing chickens, carving meat - creating as bloody a
show as if they were around a cauldron on a heath. The witches are a
constant and unsettling presence throughout the play and one wonders if
it is Macbeth's own imagination that interprets these innocent servants
as witches or whether their presence is actually as real as Macbeth’s
crime. The three apparitions they cause to appear to Macbeth are
plastic-wrapped bodies in a morgue that the witches chant and
gesticulate over, causing them to convulse, sit up and speak. The chant
is fast and frantic with an irregular rhythm. Add to this projections of
static, strobing lights, and pulsating music, and the scene becomes
frantic and extremely disturbing. However the horror is not confined to
the witches. The slaughter of Macduff's wife and children is shown in
tableau under strobing lights and although brief is sickening to watch.
Set in the 1930s/40s, the restrained costumes and manners of the period
sit in stark contrast with the dire deeds of the play. Blood seeps and
flows in projected form across the walls as the witches huddle together
pointing and hissing at Macbeth. The ghost of murdered Banquo appears at
the formal dinner table with gashed neck and bloody shirt and then
leaves Macbeth to recover his wits and dignity and urge his guests on to
an after-dinner dance. As the mood changes to gaiety and laughter,
Macbeth turns to find that his dance partner is Banquo, still bloodied
and jagged-necked, still very dead. It is the misdirection and then
sudden shocks that work so well in this scene. Indeed Goold chooses to
split this one scene into two parts, leaving the audience in suspense
until after the interval. The scene is then replayed with emphasis on
different aspects before continuing to its bloody end. Patrick Stewart
is magnificent as the once-honorable Macbeth, effortlessly conveying the
gamut of emotions that he experiences, from paralysing fear of his
misdeeds, through snivelling horror to swaggering invincibility. Kate
Fleetwood as Lady Macbeth is equally versatile, pouring scorn on her
husband’s doubts, then later experiencing a sleepwalking revulsion for
her part in the abominable acts.
'O horror, horror, horror!' utters Macduff at one point in the play.
Horror indeed we have here, brilliantly realised by new king of the
macabre Rupert Goold. Who knew that Shakespeare could inspire such fear?
This review was originally published on The Shakespeare Revue.
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