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MACBETH
* Written by William Shakespeare * Directed by George C. Wolfe * Starring Alec Baldwin and Angela Bassett * Joseph Papp Public Theater, New York City |
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The first time George C. Wolfe -- the fabulous showman who directed Jelly’s Last Jam, Angels in America, and Bring in ‘da Noise, Bring in ‘da Funk on Broadway -- tried his hand at Shakespeare, he pumped The Tempest full of island magic, puppets, masks, drag queens on stilts, and Patrick Stewart as Prospero. The second time around, Wolfe has tackled Macbeth with not one but two movie stars, Alec Baldwin and Angela Bassett, and more leather than a Harley Davidson convention. It’s not enough. Although the three weird sisters (of “Double, double toil and trouble” fame) often give license for directors to traffic in the supernatural, this is a relentlessly, drably down-to-earth Macbeth. Even the sets are such homely rough planks that it looks like the Thane of Cawdor and Lady M are putting the King up overnight in their loft bed. There’s method to Wolfe’s lack of madness. He means to show that Macbeth is deluded from the start, that he points to mumbo-jumbo auguries about his manifest destiny only to hide the murderous ambition in his own heart. It’s an intriguing interpretation, cerebral and not very flashy. Unfortunately, the stars simply aren’t up to the task. Resplendent beefcake that he is, Alec Baldwin is leaden and overly naturalistic -- De Niro comes to Dunsinane -- while Angela Bassett is simply over-the-top, high-strung and overemphatic -- Eartha Kitt goes to Juilliard. Without the sexy sparks that should ignite their reign of blood, the production falls into the Public Theater’s long tradition of snoozy stars-in-Shakespeare. The Advocate, April 14, 1998 |
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