Le Soir, Belgium
by Michèle Friche, 24 September 2009

A pure, yet tough take on Shakespeare, stunning!

This fresh take on Macbeth is seminal; Declan Donnellan is a fabulous director
With virtually no set and in contemporary costume, the actors, with their sheer presence, create a startling realism
A must-see

No Scottish castle to speak of, no witches, no cauldrons, no ghosts, no daggers, no blood: the stage in this Macbeth is a choreographed, choral playground for the actors' movements and voices. And the intensity of this production, directed by Declan Donnellan, reaches a pinnacle of despair which leaves you panting and stunned after two hours (in English with French surtitles, no intermission).

The heroes are human beings just like us. They are not monsters of Scottish legend: we are inside Macbeth's head, and we share the life of this warrior (and lover, and husband). His nightmarish descent to the depths of his despair is triggered by a first murder, motivated by his vaulting ambition to sit on the throne. But thereafter he has to keep his throne, and the price is ever more bloodshed. As a prisoner of his thoughts and fantasies, Macbeth (Will Keen, whose stage presence is dark and sober, but radiant) fixes his stare upon the rapt audience and, standing at the front of the stage, he speaks... just the way it was done in Shakespeare's time.

Behind him, the action is in freeze-frame. Declan Donnellan doesn't ignore the theatrical aspects of stage-craft. With a single gesture he makes you see the heavy medieval sword, and makes you feel its weight. And without a single drop of blood, the murders are startling realistic.

Hands speak as much as voices. For example, when Macbeth is told of his wife's death, she is still very much there, alive, on the stage, pressed against him; but she slips from his embrace and disappears, and nothing remains but the space of her absent body between Macbeth's empty hands. Donnellan chooses to focus his production on the couple, without rehashing the old ‘Lady M' stereotype of a raving dominatrix. She is all woman: fragile, with shocking blazes of madness. Anastasia Hille is sublime. And the couple's infamous persuasion - one convincing the other - has never been so clear as here.

The final frame shows them lying side by side.

A heavy fog prevails and black dominates the staging – the contemporary costumes are discrete military vests - the black of night and the black of stormy nature suffuses the whole piece. On either side of the stage two rows of open lattice wooden towers filter through torch-like rays of fiery yellow light. Only one element disrupts this austere unity, bringing a modern, barmy, and colourful touch to the play. The porter's lodge is wheeled onto the stage and inside is an odd, drowsy, red-haired creature having a hard time with her intercom: in Shakespeare's work it is customary to have a clown scene, and the horror of Macbeth is no exception. There is also a violin player on stage who solicits dancing from the guests at Macbeth's coronation, and whose ominous sustained notes enhance the darkest moments of the story. The supernatural is portrayed here as a figment of the human brain, and the witches, almost invisible, are but women's voices in the night.

This fresh take on Macbeth is a seminal production; Declan Donnellan is an exceptionally powerful director. He leads his company, Cheek by Jowl, to new heights.