Reviewed 4/16/05
Stephen Wrentmore is a director of choices. His Macbeth is filled with symbolism, interestingly edited, and non-traditionally period and multi-media-savvy. All of these choices are intriguing and most of them work. One of them, though, pops in at specific points and ultimately brings to a grinding halt what was until the finale an excellent production. Despite this, here’s a 1930s Macbeth cast in the mold of Juan Peron that is strongly acted and visually stimulating.
Wrentmore transports his Scotland to the turbulent times between the two world wars where fascist dictators flexed their muscles and mass media treaded into the arena of propaganda. When is it specifically set? While it hints at the 30s, there are a few anachronistic flourishes, such as the inclusion of a surprisingly re-orchestrated song from the 90s, that make this timeless. His Weird Sisters (Deborah Fialkow, Christen Simon, and Maren Maclean) set the tone immediately as media puppetmasters in the truest sense, massaging the ego of the vain Thane (Matt Loney) and playing a myriad of smaller roles as they seduce him and his power-hungry Lady (Celeste Ciulla) into their bloody deeds. This is a blasted heath where paparazzi mix with politician, soldiers, and the dead and Scott Weldin’s stark Deco-tinted landscape has sharply broken edges. Flash photographs capture both intimate and posed moments, and newsreels gloss over suffering with a patriotic fervor. David Kay Mickelson’s costumes range from slinky, sexy gowns for the Lady, storm trooper-style trench coats for the Thane and his compatriots, and shapeless grey and white bodysuits for the Weird Sisters to place their individual costume pieces over in becoming everyone from nurses through reporters to nameless soldiers. This is a sleek refashioning that spreads its blame pretty evenly.
Loney and Ciulla bond nicely as Mac and Lady Mac. Loney’s
Macbeth is a flatter, broader creation than some, but it fits with the smoothness
of Wrentmore’s production. Ciulla turns her initial “unsex me” monologue
into a bit of classic cinema staginess that sets the tone for her character’s
sexy expressiveness. Fialkow, Simon, and Maclean create a seamless unit,
each with their individual quirks but still working as an ever-present trio
that ominously move through and manipulate the framework. Brian Keith
Russell’s Banquo is a jovial sort, initially seeming an odd choice but filling the
role of easygoing second in command. Richard Trujillo’s MacDuff is
a stiff, no-nonsense offering that reaches his emotional apex when mourning
the loss of his “pretty chickens” and during the quick final
battle that expertly invents a way to drop guns in favor of swordplay. Darrah
Kennan’s Malcolm is straightforward and even a bit unremarkable.
Wrentmore has made many nice choices involving multimedia and for mixing action with long stretches of discussion, such as the moment early in the second act that mixes movie reel footage with the treasonous cries of Scotland’s regretful nobles. There is a lack of consistency with his multimedia choices, though. There are long stretches that do not utilize multimedia possibilities, and then a bunching in certain scenes. There is also the matter of the wandering babe (Thomas Thornburn).
Those who have studied history will recognize this as the intrusion of Macbeth’s lost son, but when he meanders out at the end and takes the now-empty throne, he pulls out an item that does not read from this side of the footlights. The result was an audience that sat on its hands, unsure of their reaction until the curtain call began. It’s the type of hiccup ending that could lay low lesser productions. This is still an engaging evening, though it seems to have gone one choice too far.
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