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I’m not an actor, nor particularly superstitious, but for some reason I still feel uncomfortable saying the word. Rupert Goold’s adaptation of the play onto the small screen gives a reason. The Scottish Play is infamous for its supernatural elements, and for the portrayal of the hunger for power which induces its main themes of guilt, madness and paranoia, and Goold plays upon these elements to create a powerfully unsettling production.
By the clever setting of the play in a Stalinesque world of political and military intrigue and confusion, Goold’s production succeeds on two points. Firstly, it makes necessary the fabulous array of smashing moustaches, splendid leather jackets and really, really nice fur hats which both suit the production and, through enjoyment of them, lessen the tension of this gripping piece of film. Secondly, it conveys to perfection the way in which power and greed corrupt people, the terror which is bred from a large group of equals each having their own agenda and the lies and paranoia which are generated by and cause the downfall of such a society. The power and status shared by leaders of a socialist state and seventeenth century Scottish nobles complement each other and make the setting of this production natural.
A large part of the tension is delivered by the setting of Nottinghamshire’s Welbeck Abbey. As the castle, it is bleak and oppressive, with peeling paint and damp walls. The rooms are dark and the décor is cold and uninviting, much as one would imagine a seventeenth century Scottish castle to be. The castle seems to loom over the actors who are consumed into its shadowy depths. A large part of the action is set in dank and endless corridors which combine with the deeds going on within their walls to be sinister and malignant places with a palpable atmosphere of evil. For Lord and Lady Macbeth, the setting certainly plays upon their increasing sense of isolation.
The weird sisters were intriguingly portrayed as war-time nurses whose crisply starched costumes and equally stiff posture were far more menacing than the traditional old hags. Like the castle, the audience could feel their looming and ominous presence constantly throughout the production, and their omnipresence throughout the action is well conveyed through their appearing seemingly from nowhere midway through scenes in order to taunt Macbeth.
In an almost flawless production, there are two main highlights. Besides the skilful drawing in of the audience by having many monologues addressed directly to the camera so that that it felt like real theatre, that is. The banquet scene was phenomenally well done. The way that it was laid out, with the crisp, white banquet table in the centre of a large hall which darkened and blurred outwards so that the edge was invisible presented order engulfed by confusion. Patrick Stewart’s wild and uncontrolled swinging between madness and lucidity was scarily convincing, and the horrible presence of Banquo’s bloody ghost felt very menacing.
The best though, was Kate Fleetwood’s Lady Macbeth. She was mad from the start. Her eyes showed it, and she was far too willing for evil spirits to unsex her to be entirely sane. From the beginning, Fleetwood stole the show. Her face and eyes, particularly through the close-up shots, was utterly expressive of her descent into madness and her well constructed cheek and jaw bones were easily turned to fierce speech and expressions which were utterly convincing in both evil and madness. Frankly, if I was that damn spot, I’d bloody well do as I was told.
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