Theatre in Review: Macbeth (Park Avenue Armory)"This castle has a pleasant seat." Not this time; Christopher Oram's supersized set for Kenneth Branagh's blockbuster version of Macbeth is dark and clammy, a mud-stained place. It's a cross between Stonehenge and Harry Potter's Quidditch stadium, located on a blasted heath filled with mud and half-dead patches of grass. Stark beams of light carve out little spaces of illumination while doing little to alleviate the general gloom. A weird howling wind can be heard in the distance. At one end of the room is a kind of altar; despite the proliferation of votive candles and iconic images of Jesus Christ and the Blessed Virgin Mary, it looks more like an altar for human sacrifice -- and so it proves. Branagh has never done anything by halves and here he sets out to provide a Macbeth that is commensurate in scale with Iron Man 2 and Thor, his recent projects as a film director. And indeed this Macbeth begins on a note that may prove to be a little bit too Hollywood for some tastes. Apparently as a crowd-control measure, each ticketholder is assigned a "clan" -- I was a "Robertson" -- and is put in one of the armory's vast and lavishly appointed reception rooms. When the moment comes, the clan is ushered into the main auditorium and led to its designated place on one of two sets of enormous bleachers that sit on either side of the playing area. As the play begins -- in a stunningly staged battle in the pouring rain, we are immediately plunged into a world of carnage. It is the singular achievement of this Macbeth -- which is co-directed by Rob Ashford -- to place the action of Shakespeare's bloodiest tragedy in a pre-Medieval world of clashing armies and honor killings. It may be nominally a Christian world, but there is dark magic afoot -- spells and signs of wonder and witches who are feral enough to be vampires in a horror film. In Macbeth, Shakespeare takes no prisoners; Branagh and Ashford are of a similar mind. Thus the three Witches are seen floating between stone pillars, hissing their prophecies in voices that can barely be called human. Lady Macbeth takes the letter her husband has sent her and drags it through the mud before launching into her "Unsex me now" speech. When Macbeth asks, "Is this a dagger I see before me?", indeed he does, hanging in the darkness tantalizingly, lit eerily from behind. Banquo's ghost makes his appearance at the Macbeth's table, his face streaming with blood. The murder of Lady MacDuff is chillingly accomplished with a simple twist of the neck. You are advised not to attend this Macbeth in search of new psychological insights into Shakespeare's monsters of ambitions, or of those unhappy folk who are caught up in their orbit. Branagh and Ashford are after the broad sweep of the story, the vicious crimes that undo a throne and lead to another killing and another, climaxing with all-out war. The battle scenes are especially impressive: You may never see a more spectacular version of Birnam Wood coming to Dunsinane, as a phalanx of soldiers appear in stunning backlight, carrying grass-covered shields and sneaking into position. Still, Branagh and his Lady Macbeth, Alex Kingston, have more than their share of moments; their relationship is a complicated, ever-shifting thing, one partner's aggression subsiding as the other takes over. At first, Lady M seems to be virtually pouring her ambition into her husband; but notice how, almost shuddering, she empties a goblet of wine as he plans Duncan's murder; notice how she shrinks in horror from her husband's kiss when it becomes clear that Banquo, too, must die. Such moments as these pave the way for the wildest sleepwalking scene ever, staged high on a set of pillars and ending in a blood-curdling scream. Note, too, the moan with which Macbeth greets his own bloodied hands after Duncan's death. And most telling of all is the moment when, still convinced of his immortality in battle, Macbeth learns of his wife's suicide; Branagh grows remarkably still, and the words "She should have died hereafter" ring with real grief. Without changing his expression he makes it thoroughly clear the bottom has fallen out of his life, setting him up for the disaster that follows. In truth, the rest of the supporting cast is a bit upstaged by the mud, blood, and lighting and special effects. Still, Jimmy Yuill is an interesting, rather older Banquo; Alexander Vlahos makes a fairly powerful thing out of the scene in which Malcolm expresses his reluctance take up arms against Macbeth, and David Annen, as Siward, one of Macbeth's opponents, sums up the stoic nature of the entire enterprise in greeting the news of his son's death in battle. ("Had I as many sons as I have hairs/I would not wish them a fairer death/And so, his knell is knoll'd.") The musical theatre star Scarlett Strallen makes a touching and dignified Lady Macduff. The entire physical production is accomplished, including Oram's battle-ready costumes. Neil Austin's lighting works in fluid, cinematic fashion, constantly reconfiguring the space and redirecting one's eye, and creating one stunning chiaroscuro look after another. Patrick Doyle's original music adds to the atmosphere as well. There is a sense in which this production is a giant stunt, I suppose, and this approach would hardly work for very many other of Shakespeare's works. But there is also something grand in its ambition, its willingness to chart the Macbeths' fatal course in as sweeping terms as possible. If there is such a thing as grand opera, can there not be grand melodrama as well?--David Barbour 
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