Theatre in Review: Macbeth (Lincoln Center Theatre/Vivian Beaumont)

	Photo: T. Charles Erickson

At the end of Macbeth, the title character's head is brought on stage, having been severed from his body. Then again, you could say that Macbeth had his head handed to him by the New York press, who found much to complain about in Jack O'Brien's production. A couple of big things are wrong with the current revival at the Beaumont, which we'll get to presently, but it's important to note the many striking things that this gifted company has achieved.

First off is the design. Scott's Pask's set frames the action using a pair of monumental slanted walls, each of which has been scored with deep slashes that from time to time are illuminated from within. Etched into the stage deck is the "seal of God's truth," a Renaissance rendition of a medieval mandala, an apt symbol for a play in which so much bloody tragedy flows from other-worldy prophecies. There are other scenic touches, including a gallery that flies in and a couple of scene-setting drops, but the generally spare, yet overwhelmingly spectacular, environment is a very Edward Gordon Craig idea that works especially well in the Beaumont. So is Japhy Weideman's astonishing lighting, which transforms the space so often and so completely that you might be forgiven for thinking you have been witnessing a parade of sets. Weideman achieves his effects by using a variety of big, single-source looks; until the final battle, one rarely, if ever, sees a general stage wash. Catherine Zuber's costumes -- almost all black, with telling touches of red and white -- include battle-ready gear for the men and elegant, body-hugging gowns for the women. When needed, Jeff Sugg's projections conjure up turbulent storms or forests of green leaves. Mark Bennett's sound design provides powerful reinforcement for his original score, which mixes Carmina Burana-style choruses with enigmatic Enya-style wailings and touches of bagpipe melodies.

As he has demonstrated time and again, O'Brien knows how to use the vast Beaumont space to its advantage, from hushed, conspiratorial encounters played far downstage, to the triumphal, far-upstage entrance of Macbeth, now king of Scotland, and Lady Macbeth, dressed in glittering gold. There are some startlingly achieved transitions. The murder of Banquo segues instantly, shockingly into the feast at Macbeth's castle, the equivalent of a quick cut in a film. When Banquo's ghost appears at table, he has an array of knives sticking out of his neck, an image that more than justifies Macbeth's near-breakdown. The murder of Lady Macduff and her children, staged on a platform that sinks into the stage, is equally unsettling. During Lady Macbeth's "Unsex me here" speech, in which she works up the courage to join Macbeth in the plot to kill Duncan, the king, the three witches and Hecate, their queen, appear upstage, half-seen in shadowy red light. Later, a vase full of red flowers dies in front of us, shedding one petal after another as the Macbeths plot their infamy. When the time comes for Birnam Wood to come to Dunsinane, Malcolm's soldiers simply pull their tree branches out of the deck. O'Brien and company have conjured a barbarous world in which magic has run amok; when the English army arrives to dispatch Macbeth, it is almost as if the Enlightenment is arriving in Scotland.

O'Brien has taken one decision in particular that has dire consequences, however. In a production that is notable for its luxury casting, the three witches are played by Malcolm Gets, John Glover, and Byron Jennings, perversely gotten up in ill-fitting gowns and sporting white and red makeup. You don't hire these three for only a couple scenes, and, indeed, they are more or less omnipresent, turning up time and again to fill in the minor roles, each of which they endow with sinister underpinnings not found in the text; most notably, Glover assumes the role of the Porter, the play's one comic character. Francesca Faridany, as Hecate, does the same, taking on the role of the gentlewoman who observes Lady Macbeth in the sleepwalking scene. A clever notion that underscores the Macbeths' rush to disaster, it also introduces a fatalistic note that diminishes the title character by depriving him of moral choice. If he is nothing more than a pawn of evil spirits, then he is no longer a figure of tragedy and there is something of a hole at the center of the play.

That hole is made worse by the performance of Ethan Hawke as Macbeth. It is important to note that Hawke is not some movie idol parachuting into Broadway to burnish his bona fides. In the last decade, he has challenged himself repeatedly with difficult roles both classic and contemporary, and in so doing, he has achieved some very striking performances. Based on the evidence here, however, he simply lacks the training and physical equipment, especially the sheer lung power, to play one of the major tragic heroes. His perversely contemporary line readings fight the meter of the verse, and he often seems to be struggling through some of the lengthier passages. He does a fair job of communicating Macbeth's degenerating psychological state, but he also deploys his effects in an overly calculating manner, switching from a whisper to a bellow for reasons that have nothing to do with the words he is saying. Most damagingly, he comes across less as a figure of "vaulting ambition" than as a small-time criminal; a crucial element of tragic grandeur is totally missing.

Anne-Marie Duff also lacks a certain stature as Lady Macbeth, but she does well enough with the "unsex me" speech and clearly has a strong sexual connection to her husband. When Macbeth melts down at the sight of Banquo's ghost, her panic and embarrassment is very real as she tries to force him to calm down in front of the court. And her sleepwalking scene is authentically harrowing, the spectacle of a woman driven mad by guilt.

There are also many striking featured performances. Bianca Amato is a witty and extremely well-spoken Lady Macduff. Richard Easton's Duncan is a touching lamb being led to slaughter. Brian d'Arcy James' Banquo is an intriguing figure, cannily noting just how much stock Macbeth puts in the witches' prophecies. Aaron Krohn's facility with Shakespeare's verse makes him a welcome presence as Rosse. Jonny Orsini's Malcolm is a genuinely tormented figure, especially in the scene in which he initially resists leading a revolt against Macbeth. Daniel Sunjata's merciless Macduff is arguably the most imposing character in the entire production.

But without a strong Macbeth, one capable of thinking for himself, at its center, the production threatens to implode at any time. Still, it has many things going for it, and in a season loaded with Shakespeare revivals, it is furlongs ahead of, say, the misbegotten Romeo and Juliets that have come our way recently. But the director and star have conspired to give us a Macbeth lacking in stature and agency, choices that undermine all the other good work on display. In the program notes, Pask jokingly suggests that the on-stage mandala might prove a bulwark against the bad luck that legendarily dogs the play; in this case, the magic works only intermittently. -- David Barbour