Branagh
We stumbled
through the vast darkness of the armory, searching for our seats amidst the
literal battlefield that would become the stage. Finding our wooden, backless
seats (really just benches), we sat on one side of the narrow, mud-ridden
alley. We peered down as if watching a joust. Three men could not have stood
shoulder to shoulder across the space. On either extremity the alley widened
out. On one end were three primitive stone arches, calling to mind the likes of
Stonehenge. Beyond them was the expanse of terrain through which we had
entered.
Opposing these ominous relics was a tile-floored altar, the only ground in sight that was not mud. There stood a white-clad woman, motionless, with her back to us. Suddenly, our attention snapped upwards as a crash of thunder signaled the opening of the show. Rain began pouring down on the stage in front of us as armor clad warriors began to flood into the aisle. The ensuing battle was bloody, ending with Duncan fooling his foe into a fatal ambush. In the aftermath, bodies remained on stage as the living vacated it. The rain ceased. For a moment, there was stillness. Then, out eerie gloom arose three creates, quietly shattering the foreign stillness with the familiar words "when shall we three meet again."
Opposing these ominous relics was a tile-floored altar, the only ground in sight that was not mud. There stood a white-clad woman, motionless, with her back to us. Suddenly, our attention snapped upwards as a crash of thunder signaled the opening of the show. Rain began pouring down on the stage in front of us as armor clad warriors began to flood into the aisle. The ensuing battle was bloody, ending with Duncan fooling his foe into a fatal ambush. In the aftermath, bodies remained on stage as the living vacated it. The rain ceased. For a moment, there was stillness. Then, out eerie gloom arose three creates, quietly shattering the foreign stillness with the familiar words "when shall we three meet again."
The main stage
For the next two hours I sat fully immersed in the world of Kenneth Branagh's Macbeth. From vicious slaughter to anxious scheming, there was no shortage of captivating drama. This fast paced rendition of Shakespeare's classic enraptures the audience in a cinematic performance, riddled with special effects and intricate lighting.
Branagh
brings a unique urgency to the role of Macbeth, a squeamish quality that
emphasizes the tragic warrior’s uneasiness away from the battlefield. His
relaxed fluidity in any of the immaculately choreographed fight scenes emanates
total control and comfort in his surroundings. However, when forced to play the
political game, his skill and artistry is replaced with indecision and impulse.
This resulting contrast casts Macbeth in a barbaric light each time he verbally
interacts, as if he is “dressed in borrowed robes,” from the very start. Unlike
Banquo and MacDuff, he is unable to shed his warrior’s demeanor with his armor.
Branagh and Kingston
As for Branagh’s counterpart, Alex Kingston displays a
variety of Lady Macbeth, from eccentric and frightened, oscillating in a
moment. The ultimate politician, she morphs to fit any circumstance. She foils
Macbeth completely, able to say anything convincingly but do very little. Thus
she pulls Macbeth along as if she were leading a dog. Complementing each other,
the two exhibit strong stage chemistry, at once lusty lovers and murderous
allies.
As an actor myself, I can understand the toil of actors and actresses on stage. Rarely do I attend a play after which I would say this, but I could not imagine carrying out that Macbeth every night. It is a testament to the mettle of cast that they are able to do so, and at such a high level. Between the constant fighting and traversing the vast area of the theatre at a rapid pace, I don’t think Branagh went five minutes without an all out sprint, with the same pressing urgency each time. Until the last line, I was hunched on the edge of my bench focused intently on the play unfolding before me as if I were seeing it for the first time. It was only after the final round of applause that I realized my back was killing me.
As an actor myself, I can understand the toil of actors and actresses on stage. Rarely do I attend a play after which I would say this, but I could not imagine carrying out that Macbeth every night. It is a testament to the mettle of cast that they are able to do so, and at such a high level. Between the constant fighting and traversing the vast area of the theatre at a rapid pace, I don’t think Branagh went five minutes without an all out sprint, with the same pressing urgency each time. Until the last line, I was hunched on the edge of my bench focused intently on the play unfolding before me as if I were seeing it for the first time. It was only after the final round of applause that I realized my back was killing me.
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