Macbeth, 17/06/2012

National Theatre of Scotland presents

Shakespeare : Macbeth

Directed by John Tiffany and Andrew Goldberg
with : Alan Cumming

I gather that 'one-man show' versions of Shakespeare are not a new thing by any means, but this is my first experience of one, and just how it was going to work was always a highly intriguing factor.

At the start, we see Cumming as a patient, wounded and disoriented, being checked into a psychiatric ward, one of those run-down Victorian tiled affairs anyone who has had any experience of hospitals in Britain recognises instantly.  Has he been the victim of an attack, or are his scratches self-inflicted?  It's not clear, but when he starts to recite the Shakespearian lines, it would seem that we're witnessing some sort of case of multiple personality disorder.  The Patient is responsive to his surroundings, he interacts with, and reacts to the doctor and the orderly in charge of his care, not to mention the objects and furniture in his ward, but he is playing out a fantasy in his mind, in response to who knows what impulse or stimulus.

Cumming's ability to differentiate between his characters is remarkable.  There are changes in voice, but they're not exaggerated (save for a remarkably camp Duncan!), and he uses physical elements just as much as vocal ones.  Banquo is always playing with an apple, Macduff bears a brown towel 'cloak', Lady Macbeth is usually draped in one way or another, and the witches (aside from the video imagery used to make three out of one) are almost always back to the audience, and in a distinctive crouch.

I don't need to introduce Cumming to anyone, he's a very successful, versatile and distinctive actor, and his particular brand of almost ferocious energy was thoroughly deployed here, without being tiresomely manic.  That this was a true tour de force hardly needs saying.  In a judiciously trimmed edition of the play, the pace never lets up, nor does the attention flag.  I did hear one or two members of the audience around me afterwards saying they were not always clear about who was saying what - all I can say to that is that they weren't paying attention, because it was all crystal-clear to me.  The question was, did it bring anything to "Macbeth"?

Perhaps not - but it brought a lot to the setting chosen.  While the usual considerations of "Macbeth" were still there - the use and abuse of power, the interpersonal dynamics - what was most important was the mental impact.  The Patient plays out his concerns in this elaborate fiction, and we can only guess at what is truly troubling him, or why he needs to take refuge in the lives of these other characters.  In perhaps the most telling, terrible moment of the entire proceedings, right at the end, the death of Macbeth is translated into a suicide attempt.  The Patient tries to drown himself, but ultimately fails and surfaces, gasping and choking, to pay homage as Macduff to the doll that has stood in for Malcolm all along.  Having done that, he breaks down, sobbing wildly, and for a moment you wonder if there has been some sort of catharsis, if he has worked through at least part of his problems. But when the doctor and the orderly, having sedated him and put him back to bed (as they have done at other climactic moments), are about to leave the ward, he sits up once more, and repeats the very opening line of the play - "When shall we three meet again" - and you realise that he is trapped in a dreadful, unending loop of torment.  It's a shocking, painful and haunting moment on which to close, and small wonder the instant reaction from the audience was a standing ovation.

Not perhaps what Shakespeare had in mind, but I think, given his interest in the human mind and its workings, he'd have found the experiment pretty intriguing.

[Next : 24th June]