Ashland Theater Note: Macbeth

I had thought that I'd never see a really first-class Macbeth, because the play requires two over-the-top performances--Macbeth and his Lady--and you couldn't expect two that strong in the same place: like matter and anti-matter.

I think the current Ashland offering pretty much proves me wrong: Peter Macon as the King and Robin Goodrin Nordli, seen yesterday with a pig-snout on her nose, were just about as powerful and evenly-matched a pair as you could hope for. The result was all you could want in a Macbeth: rapid, scary, pathetic, blood-and-thunder theater dynamic enough to hold any live audience, with enough inner life left over to win forgiveness from an academic. Macon, who turned in a good Othello last summer, seemed even better suited for the role of the King: eager, ambitious, warm-hearted and just gullible enough to think that he could do it. Nordli, who seems to have tackled just about every fat female part in the canon, was mostly his match, although Macon did have a kind of raw energy that would just spill over the rest of the stage whenever he was present.

But Mrs. Buce adds--and I think she is right--that the director did betray Nordli in one important respect: she stepped on Nordli's big speech. That would be the mad scene, the one where Lady Macbeth says "out, damn spot," and "who would have thought the old man to have had so much blood in him." Nordli started out at the top of a long ramp, her face in shadows; she was followed by three children in black who seemed to be a part of the witches' intern program. By they time you could see her, you realized that she was covered with so much--what, pancake makeup? A mask?--that was supposed to make her look crazy and just made her look like she was on crystal meth. I can't for the life of me understand why they didn't just let Nordli be Nordli and finish her lady's life with all the range and subtlety she had displayed all along.

Besides the leads, there is surprisingly little in Macbeth that you really remember. For a company that likes to hoke it up so much, the witches were surprisingly conventional--at the beginning, almost perfunctory, although they picked up steam later. Josiah Phillips, such a fine Sancho just yesterday, was a bit of a disappointment as the Porter (a matter of some personal concern since this is the only Shakespearean role I still want to play). Rex Young as Banquo presented a ghost sufficient to scare the bejeeezus out of us. As to the rest of the young men, I admit I kind of have trouble keepimg them all straight in my mind anyway.

Macbeth may not be the greatest Shakespeare play, but it is the greatest something-or-other. In particular, it is my hands-down pick for the ideal "first play" in high school. I know, teachers always fall for Romeo and Juliet on the mistaken notion that the kids will like it because it is about young love. They forget that it is an old person's view of young people. Not to mention that dialog in Romeo in Juliet is some of the most stylized and in the canon. Meanwhile Macbeth is all murder, madness and betrayal and what's not to love about that?

Verdi Responds to Shakespeare: A Note on Macbeth

We spent some time we didn’t have this evening, watching a Glyndbourne production of Verdi’s Macbeth. Some quick thoughts;

Verdi did three Shakespeare Operas—Macbeth, Otello and Falstaff, of which Macbeth is, by any measure, the weakest. But that is more a testimony to the strength of the others than it is to any intrinsic deficiency on the part of Macbeth. Granted, Verdi can’t do all the leaps and swoops now that he learned to do later—when you get right down to it, he is rather a slow starter. But that sets the bar unacceptably high: by most measures, nothing exceeds the later Verdi. Meanwhile of the early Verdis that remain in performance-Macbeth is far more polished than Nabucco, far more arresting than Luisa Miller (which I can swear we saw just a couple of years back—but Mrs. B says she can’t even remember it).

What’s really interesting is the way Verdi deals with Shakespeare. I embrace the notion that to make a good movie, you need a mediocre book which is why Gone with the Wind (say) or Bridges of Madison County are so much more fun to watch than the yawners from Merchant-Ivory.

It’s hard to make that theory fit here. Granted, maybe you could say that Falstaff is a great opera based on a weak play (Merry Wives of Windsor—but even here, I would want to insist that the play isn’t as bad as people seem to think it is). Otello takes a great play and makes it into a great opera. Some would say a greater opera. I wouldn’t go so far; I’d rather just regard them as a pair of twin peaks, each astonishing in its own way (and, bye the bye, rather different, one from another).

Macbeth draws on a much stronger play than Merry Wives, and it never achieves the heights of Otello. But Macbeth honors its source: it’s not an insult, and it’s not just a visual aid. Over and over, watching the opera, I found myself thinking—you know, this really is a glorious play. That’s a compliment to Verdi. He knew it was glorious, and even if he did not transcend his source, still he knew how to convey has own sense of awe and wonder.

Afterthought re slow starter: By the age of 46, Shakespeare had pretty much closed up shop. After the age of 46, Verdi still had Otello and Falstaff ahead of him –and also La Forza del Destino, Don Carlos and Aida. He may have been a late starter, but I can’t think of anyone comparable who lasted longer, except Sophocles (who, as it is said, was still going at 90).

Afterthought on sources: Aside from Shakespeare, Verdi also drew heaviliy on Schiller, about whom I know almost nothing (except as filtered through opera). I wonder if Verdi’s relation to Schiller is anything like his relation to Shakespeare?