Last night I went to see a production of Shakespeare's Macbeth put on by the illustrious Rep21 theatre group at Theatre Passe Muraille in Toronto. I've seen enough Canadore Theatre Arts plays, now, that I almost feel as if I know the actors and members of the company, when in actuality I think I've met two or three and only really know one. My friend Dave, however, was in the lead role and so I could hardly pass up the chance to grab a couple friends and make an evening out of it.
At the intermission, I walked up to one of my friends, who isn't very familiar with the story, and remarked that "I had forgotten how dark this play is." It's been a long time since I read Macbeth in grade 10. The opening scene was quite shockingly occult-ish and intimidating, which I can tell was the director's intent. There is a lot of hyper-sexualized occult activity and violence in this play. And some fore-warned "strong language, Shakespeare-style". I'm not one of those Christians who rejects violence and evil in our art because it's evil. The function of art is as a reflection of humanity and construction of meaning. And I found myself given much to meditate on, spiritually, after experiencing this play. I don't think I could have been the one on stage, but then God hasn't gifted me with the actor's craft of separation of self, and I don't mind Him withholding it. Suffice to say, that when I tell you it's rough around the edges, it's not as a word of condemnation, but mostly a caveat against bringing the whole family. Just because Shakespeare is a classic doesn't make him safe for the kids.
After sleeping (a couple hours) on it, I find myself thinking about the character of Macbeth. I suppose charting his course is a main purpose of the play. Although the director's interpretation of the play put most of the agency for the evil decisions that are made into the hands of witches, we see from the very first the tiny seeds of murderous ambition in Macbeth's character. It doesn't take much. Somehow, when I first read the play, I felt like it was the story of the greedy Lady Macbeth cajoling, seducing and bullying her husband into becoming more ruthless, and then gradually losing control of the monster she's created. That's certainly still part of the story, but the seed of evil was in Macbeth's heart from the word go. I think this is important, not only to make playing the transformation of Macbeth less stupefyingly sharp, but also because I recognize the seed. His is strong enough to vocalize itself when he's speaking with the witches. But I recognize the vaulting ambition and murderous intent, nestled capable but mercifully dormant in my own heart. We're all capable of it. One of the things a year and a half ago that my history class examined was the transformation of Nazis and other Germans who participated in the Holocaust. Were they really ordinary men who did unspeakable evil? Yes and no. They were a bit special, and there were a lot of mitigating factors. But they were also pretty normal guys. Wives, children, mortgages. Every mass murderer was a baby once. Was cute and adorable and maybe even nice to his/her playmates once. My uncle once said that everybody has a story that will break your heart. I think it's true, but I think the reverse is true, too. Everybody has had at least one story to restore your heart, even the most evil and most heinous our species has produced.
It is because of all this that I found myself watching Macbeth's descent into depravity, ruthlessness and also genuine madness as a lens for the ease with which this transformation could happen to anyone. Shakespeare has hit, I think, upon a key component of what makes us human: massive potential for ill. Now, if I had been director of this particular play I think I would have made some different choices, because we're given the increasing notion that the witches, as puppet-masters, have orchestrated all of this to happen to serve some dark purpose. I know there are malevolent powers in this world and that they do hold some influence over men's hearts and minds. But the transfer of blame from Macbeth and Lady Macbeth to their arcane puppeteers is too easy. It was a bit too heavy-handed for my taste. The seed of murder and greed and ambition rests in our nature, but we make conscious decision to water it and cultivate it. Only after this Macbeth had been led along by the hand, even physically embodied to do the deed, did we begin to see him take the slightest bit of evil initiative. We almost can't blame him for killing Duncan because he's some kind of spirit proxy for the "wolf demon". And this I think is a valid artistic choice, but one with which I would contend. When I do ill, and I do it often enough to know, I'm not the plaything of some demonic force. I make a choice. I know what God requires of me and His heart. I see the consequences of my disobedience, and I choose to value something else higher than His love. If my sin were the dalliances of a puppet, I could not be held accountable for the blood on my hands and the cross would have no purpose. It is a common enough thing, I think, to believe as this director believes, but I think it's cheap. It's easy morality. I would have preferred a reluctant but eventually-willing participant Macbeth.
This of course, is by no means an indictment of anything other than the director's interpretation of the play. I thought the spirit-seizing scenes where particularly chilling, and my complements to David Johnson, Amy Allyn, and the rest of the cast on some captivating acting. Especially because I know Dave, this was such a rapturing transformation from what he usually plays and I know this process must have been very trying on him mentally, physically (lots of open-shirt scenes. Awoo-ga!), and spiritually.
Oh, I only had one other criticism, which was that the not-so-subtle homosexuality subtext between Seyton and Macbeth was thoroughly irrelevant. I think I understand why it's there, but it was distracting and never sufficiently explored so as to matter in the rest of the play. I think we could have done without it. And that way, they could have dressed Seyton in a less strikingly-foxish black leather outfit. And less eye makeup, too.
By far the epic moment of the play was the claymore sword fight, and even if you're not liking the super-Scottish aesthetic of the play, the blue paint and big broadswords make up for it at the end. I thought one of the actors or even audience members was going to die! Those swords were really big and heavy for such a small stage.
In all, I had quite an experience at the theatre last night; well worth the gas, parking and ticket (oh and dinner at a nice thai place right there, but I've never written a restaurant review and don't feel like trying right now). I think my friends, who've never met Dave, might have gotten the wrong idea of the kind of guy he really is, but the play was very enjoyable and, as you can see, gave me lots to think about. I think Rep21's run is pretty much wrapped up now, and I congratulate all the members of the company on a wonderful set of shows that I think are themselves fitting reward for so much hard work over the past several months.
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