Touch of evil

In URI's Macbeth, the enemy is us

by Bill Rodriguez

By William Shakespeare. Directed by Judith Swift.
At URI Theater, Kingston, through April 26.

Macbeth is probably the Shakespeare tragedy that sways most readily in the contemporary political winds. The neo-Macbeth parallels are as various as the cold-hearted regime of Maggie Thatcher and the violent succession of President Johnson, which the satire MacBird used to hiss about conspiracy. Ruthless ambition makes for compelling drama.

At URI Theatre, director Judith Swift broadens the target from the failings of a specific over-reacher to the nature of such evil itself. This production has us meet the enemy, and it is us in all our vicarious, 28-inch televised glory.

The witches cue us in to this right away. They're not the crooked and cackling harridans of lore but rather sleek and power-suited professionals at work. The principal witch (Gwyn Anderson), tightly coifed and chatting on a cell phone when idle, also appears in scenes that Shakespeare didn't have her in, witnessing mayhem and smiling knowingly as she exits. Her witch minions film much of the misery and traitorous happenings, and the "cauldron" that receives the adder's fork and eye of newt is a TV monitor. For this Macbeth is condemning not just an obscure Scottish king's murder pact but also the way we've come to accept evil today, inundated as we are by examples in the media, which helps perpetuate such malign designs.

For additional reminders that the play is not just about the 11th century, some of the weapons are of post-apocalypse industrial design: Macbeth enters carrying a bloody circular-saw blade on a shaft, and his scepter is a long crow bar; soldiers fight with various scraps and rods of lethal-looking metal.

Under Charles Cofone's eerie and evocative sound design, all this takes place on a set as overwhelming as the forces whirling upon it. David Macaulay, the celebrated illustrator, has created a space that, under Darleen Viloria's shadow-pattern lighting design, can stand alone as a powerful sculpture in itself. It towers, dwarfing the pawns that scatter upon it, and is full of jagged angles and tilted planes that maintain a feeling of imbalance. The walls have rags stretched on them and are mottled like a watercolor abstraction, in muddy purple, gray and the colors of rust and dried blood. At stage center is a wooden grating, like in some abattoir, that serves as a walkway but also can rise like a gateway to hell or snap down like a guillotine.

Another unusual touch in this production is the Cecil B. DeMille opening: not just one or two battle skirmishes but wave after wave for several minutes, skillfully choreographed by Phillip J. Leipf Jr. When you think they're finally over, the stage fills up again with combat. The effect is not unlike that of Great Britain's fractious history, in microcosm.

Given the ambitious scope of the play and the staging, excesses are surprisingly few. Things get literal to the point of silliness when Macbeth shouts "never shake thy gory locks at me" and his murdered friend Banquo's ghost bloody well does just that, replete with dripping hair. However, that Act III scene also may be Joshua Willis's best as Macbeth, here playing his guilt-ridden horror with some spine to it, rather than as just a blubbering mess. In contrast, before stabbing his guest King Duncan to death, Willis plays the hesitant Macbeth as weak instead of temporarily weak-willed. That's the fundamental error in unconvincing productions of Macbeth, since the force of a classical tragedy depends upon men of noble stature being flawed, not flawed men straining to attain nobility. Otherwise the fall isn't far enough for us to much care.

The clenched and racing heart of this production is Paula D. Prendergast's Lady Macbeth. Although she can argue her husband under the table in a finger snap, his head is not where this Lady Macbeth exerts her full power. Their bond is strongly sexual, which provides more than sufficient energy to abruptly propel Macbeth from hesitancy to resolution for his treacherous regicide. Yet Prendergast manages to infuse Lady Macbeth with a fuller humanity; her "Out, damned spot" soliloquy remains quite affecting.

Shakespeare is never a stroll in the park, regardless of venue, so some of the student performances have difficulty making us forget that acting is going on. Standing out by their convincing naturalness are Phillip Leipf Jr. as Ross, Michael Heckler as Malcolm and Jen Morgan as the ill-fated Lady Macduff. Playing Macduff, M.A. Richard does well by the tricky scene when he gets news of his family's murder, bending to grip his thighs in one of the few images of grief such men would allow themselves to reveal.

URI's Macbeth is a solid one. The Bard might not identify the cauldrons, but he certainly would recognize the characters.