from Jane Alden
I had been looking forward to the Orcas Center’s presentation, via satellite, of The National Theatre Company’s production of “Macbeth,” starring Kenneth Branagh, for weeks, and did my best to let others know about it so they would not miss out on what I believed would be an important and profound experience.
When I returned home from having seen it Thursday night, I realized that, although interesting and compelling in many ways, it left me impressed but unaffected, in the deep way the play is meant to be affecting, and that what was at the heart of my disaffection was the realization that something is seriously out of whack if, while watching the play, I’m having thoughts about the scenery and costumes, separate from my engagement with what is going on within the play.
I should not be watching the filth accumulate on the actors’ costumes and be thinking about the cost of costume cleaning, upkeep, and replacement while Lady Macbeth is dealing with a lunatic husband going berserk in front of the most important people in the kingdom! I should not be mesmerized by watching the actors feet as they slogged through whatever the stage floor consisted of, nor obsessed with trying to figure out what the stuff actually was, when Lady Macduff and her children are being slaughtered! I should not be wondering how the spectator in the first row felt with Kenneth Branagh breathing heavily right into his face, when the very fabric of Macbeth’s life is crumbling and his soul is breathing its last.
No question, there was something very appealing about the environment of the production; however, its presence very often overshadowed the impact of the drama. The space in which the piece was performed seemed also to preclude subtlety of expression. The text was delivered very fast, in loud voices, with little nuance. “Macbeth” is filled with silences and not all of its scenes are written to be raced through, nor all it’s lines meant to be screamed. Plus the subtlety of the character’s internal processes, which is so remarkable in this fast and violent play, and which give it it’s profound impact on the watcher’s imagination, could scarcely be perceived and absorbed in the tumult and distraction of the production.
Nonetheless, it was a hearty, very masculine, mostly very well acted, and at times very exciting production. As always, Kenneth Branagh was fully present, clear, true, unexpected and a great pleasure to watch, and I found myself very intrigued with the actor John Shrapnel, who played a most unique and earthy Duncan. Alex Kingston, who played Lady Macbeth, was remarkably rich and compelling and would have been an even greater pleasure to watch if she had not been forced, by the design of the production, to speak always at top projection and at breakneck speed.
I am a big fan of speed, or more precisely, tempo, in theatre, and a lover of scenic artistry, but it is not what I want to come away from a production of this, or any of Shakespeare’s plays, remembering.
I agree Jane. These are fine actors, but I was not keen on this production. I was impressed by the scenery at first, totally distracted by the mud or whatever they slogged on throughout – much like a bad dream- but eventually just tiresome. I became irritated by the constant screaming and lack of variety to the vocal presentation and relentless pacing. Perhaps the real disappointed for me was with the witches interpretation. I could not hear their lines clearly, perhaps because they were always shrieking. The witches have wonderful lines not to be missed, and these wraiths were so wierd, angry and abstract their presence and intent, although certainly evil, was muddled. The witches can be intrepreted in many interesting ways, and are very important in this play, but this interpretation just didn’t work for me.
Excellent commentary from both of you — but I also found myself watching the audience and wondering what they were experiencing sitting in the bleachers! And of course – who did the laundry!