Macbeth (review)

In 2005, the Texas Shakespeare Festival celebrated twenty years of bringing quality productions of the poet's works to the "piney woods" of east Texas. In his tireless efforts to improve the festival and broaden its scope, founder and Artistic Director Raymond Caldwell has repeatedly recruited proven outside talent and has expanded its repertoire beyond the canon to include such controversial productions as Angels in America and The Laramie Project. Last year Eve Adamson of the Jean Cocteau Repertory in New York came down to the tiny hamlet of Kilgore to direct Macbeth, which alternated with A Midsummer Night's Dream, Cyrano de Bergerac, and Beauty and the Beast. According to her program notes, Adamson attempted to emotionally engage the audience with her Macbeth's "capacity for darkness" in order to understand his motivation toward evil.

On the backdrop of the sparse set shone a gigantic full moon, crimson in color. Amid fog and thunder, three ghostly creatures arose from a trap door at center stage. Hooded and veiled, these weird sisters were cloaked more in ambiguity than wild attire. Mysterious beyond any witch of the broomstick variety, the androgynous trio of shadows was curiously statuesque while whispering determined plans to meet again.

Tall, with a dark beard and mustache, William Elsman's Macbeth was an imposing figure among his fellow Scottish soldiers, all of whom were dressed in tartan and shearling. Initially gracious in his social dealings, he was noticeably uncomfortable when he was forced to adopt the necessary practice of dissembling. Occasionally he directed his innermost thoughts to the playgoers themselves, pausing at times as if to invite comment. Although he did not verbally abuse Seyton in the later scenes, this Macbeth showed nothing but contempt for the "dogs" that he chose to murder Banquo. Perhaps it was because they seemed more suited for the delivery of a pizza than for the assassination of a valiant warrior.

Beautiful and sexy in her red robe, Nancy Eyermann's Lady Macbeth read the predictions of greatness with joyful expectation. Following an impious prayer of underplayed passion, she greeted her husband with affection and tempered resolve. After Macbeth shared his reservations about murdering Duncan with the audience, Lady Macbeth entered and turned up the heat on her thane with a mixed air of grandeur and womanly charm. The possibility of failure was summarily dismissed with a stoic "We fail" and a tender kiss succeeded in screwing Macbeth's "courage to the sticking place." Seemingly in awe of the "undaunted mettle" of his wife, Macbeth knelt as he begged her to "bring forth men-children only."

Having received no assurance of cooperation from a firm and suspicious Banquo, Macbeth approached the footlights in pursuit of the invisible dagger. A couple of futile swipes at it were contrasted with Elsman's otherwise methodical recitation of the lines. After the deed was done, the Macbeths contended with night shrieks, anxiety, and bloody daggers while the moon was gradually eclipsed. Corresponding to the lunar phenomenon, a zig-zagged crack appeared on the grid covering the raked stage, revealing an under-layer of blood red. In this hellish atmosphere, a clownish porter amused no one, least of all a less-than-dynamic Macduff. At this point, the tension in the building could have been cut with a knife; nevertheless, a few chuckles were predictably generated...