The impulse to stylize -- to reduce things to the expression of some inalienable inner quality behind the haze of material and activity -- is an old one. Cave paintings attest to it from mankind's artistic childhood. When applied to life, this impulse produces ritual, exactly the sort from which the theater was born. Since then, this need to stylize has been at odds with the contrary impulse, the analytic tendency to faithful reproduction and naturalism. The conflict between these methods plays out in miniature, nightly, beneath the action in Live Arts' current production of Macbeth.
Live Arts' Macbeth is strong when it embraces either side of this conflict whole-heartedly. Scenes of ritual performance, in particular Macbeth's crowning, are specific, satisfying and lovely; the scenes where dialogue is most clearly connected to internal impulse, in particular some of the confrontations between Macbeth and Lady Macbeth, are splendidly convincing. At its best, realistic characterization is well integrated in and complimentary to the production's overriding sense of orchestrated evil and ritual inevitability -- like a huge ritual nesting the whole play gives a doomed feeling suitable to this pride-before-a-fall tragedy.
The suggestion of eerie ritual is most subtly evoked by the liquid melting-together of the scenes, one into the next, with transitions conducted almost entirely on the fully lit, empty stage. There were a few occasions when the attempt at seamlessness caused difficulty -- the repeated trick of shouting the last lines of a scene while running offstage was unclear most of the times it was used, and the change in the role of the witches was, while successful, conducive to a morally simplistic understanding of the play. Yet, these slender transitions were handled deftly and pleasingly on the whole, and the hallucinogenic dance-like quality of action they created was one of the play's great strengths.
The show isn't so strong when it tries to mix the impulses, putting both of them in the ring and letting them fight it out. In particular, the scene of Macbeth's first meeting the witches seems not to know whether it wants to be a fight scene or an interpretive dance when it grows up. A clearer choice would have been much richer and more new. Similarly, on a few occasions of madness, Macbeth goes for a note of odd comedy, switching to clear, restrained speech from the peak of a manic outburst. While perhaps not entirely uncharacteristic of a man in such a state, these sudden reverses, rather than bringing his madness into haunting relief, had an incongruously humorous effect on much of the audience, which rather spoiled the moment for the rest of us.
The only pervasive negative impression one is left with upon leaving Macbeth is the feeling that some of the play's energy, especially physical energy, has been mischanneled. Much of the movement on stage seems twitchy and frenetic, undirected and unspecific. Violence seems to flirt with naturalism and ritual without any clear commitment to one or the other. Sometimes, some of the supporting cast seem not to have an especially clear idea what the lines mean, diverting energy from the other players. As everyone knows, this is the particular danger of Shakespeare: Because the language is archaic, a degree of precision and specificity of emotion even higher than that normally demanded of actors is absolutely mandatory. Sometimes this wasn't there, particularly near the beginning, but also quite noticeably in the scenes between MacDuff and Duncan's son, Malcolm.
All the choices in this production only matter inasmuch as they help or hinder us, the audience, in our appreciation of the story of Macbeth and its meaning. On the whole, Live Arts' Macbeth works. Many small liberties have been taken with the script, none of them terribly bothersome, and some of them very fascinating. In particular, the treatment of soliloquies was marvelously stimulating.
There is a growing awareness in our society of the place for ritual in a healthy life and its necessity for psychological completeness. This Macbeth is satisfying for chiefly that reason -- it presents this indispensable story with the emotive, cathartic grace of ritual, without letting the individual human element be subsumed in the greater movement. The occasional empty spots in the dialogue are troublesome, but the play sweeps past them like Birnam Wood up that hill. While not everything attempted works wonders, the sound and fury here may offer some sweet oblivious antidote to our stuffed bosoms.
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