Shakespeare is acknowledged by a huge portrait at the end of the Cartoucherie’s Grand Hall, surrounded by pictures of historical programs and scenes from his “Scottish Play.” They somehow subdue the often buoyant atmosphere of the place where one can watch the actors making up or enjoy a pre-performance, substantial meal. The current menu warms one a bit: a hearty soup, crusty bread, cheese rolls, fruit-filled custard or special pastry (called Portugeese), wine or water or tea as one might have in Scotland. This aura and sharing with fellow diners are special at, and to, the Theatre du Soleil.
In the theater proper, a huge black box of a stage is a hairy, brambly heath with space for a retractable sliding offstage entrance/exit ramp down front. Each side holds the first of our bleacher seats, with dark connecting us and the players and the predominant imagery of the text. All of us are in Scotland where three huge witches, with a backup coven scurrying about, perch on a central hill awaiting Macbeth. Amid helicopter sounds and floodlight and flashlights, he and Banquo return from a kill that quashed an invasion which reporters and photographers record for the evening news.
Prophecies issue forth. Macbeth will soon be Thane, then king, but Banquo’s heirs finally get the throne. The mount absorbs the three witches, solidified as giant primitive masks. Headquarters lurk below in a tank-fortress. King Duncan’s emissaries rush to confirm Macbeth’s new honors. Heath gets rolled up as the soldier hopefully considers what’s to come.
Having attended with Banquo a palace banquet, Macbeth emerges from behind a symbolic red curtain. Both wear uniformed splendor and excite cheers and press coverage, especially of Dun exchanging kisses with Macbeth. He sends his wife news that the king will visit their home.
Lady Macbeth, briefly donning a crown of flowers in their elaborate garden, plots against Duncan. A windstorm precedes Macbeth’s arrival. She’s on the ground when he comes over her, allowing her to use sexual wiles to bolster his ambitions and the plot she’s conceived. When King and entourage arrive at the garden (to my mind, the one unjustified setting, for it’s a workshop rather than usual entry place), he has an ironic talk with the head gardener and is charmed by his hostess. She strews bloody red rose petals on his path to his chambers.
A night fog fails to penetrate the red of a carpet of roses and Lady Macbeth’s jacket as she bolsters Macbeth’s courage to plow a bloody path. During the night glass breaks, bells ring, in the stable two horses kick and whinny loudly. Finally, dazed, he’s in a bloody t-shirt meeting her with stained knives she’s got to return. The horses bolt. She’s back with bloody hands. The horses go; the couple leaves. Soon there’s knocking to awake the porter who complains in song--wonderfully sounding just like Louie Armstrong--and dances to the bang, bang, banging on his way to open the door. Announcement: Duncan’s been murdered. Out: Lady Macbeth in white nightgown, then husband, then others to hear the details. Duncan’s sons, Malcolm and Donalbain flee in fear. Macbeth becomes King and at first seems to languish with Lady Macbeth in their parlor (one of several “set” by huge carpet and proper furniture). But she, famously, can’t sleep, and he’s busy ordering Banquo murdered. There follows the grand banquet scene, introduced by a dance to “Sway with Me.” Everyone’s in formal attire dancing; Lady Macbeth has a black formal pants suit with slick white blouse.
The guests sit in two opposite rows of tables on circular platforms manipulated by “waiters” and “waitresses.” Centrally, Macbeth goes wild over the appearance of Banquo’s ghost, who fancies being near Lady Macbeth. Her husband makes a terrible table-crashing scene; no one will join him in a toast. A fog engulfs Banquo, setting Macbeth on him, making all run off, including his crying wife.
He wants to seek out the witches, but they come dancing and crackling, not listening to him. They prophesy what and whom Macbeth has to worry about (both amounting to Macduff). The scene shifts to the latter’s home where his wife and kids are brutally killed, on Macbeth’s orders. In short order, we get young people in a tavern complaining about murders; a pitiful Lady Macbeth sleepwalking before death; guns, lightning, searchlights; Macbeth in anger kicking a young man, then choking, vomiting, fainting, then up again and ready for a . . . fight?
Back on the heath, a widowed Macbeth is operating from a window of a tank that’s his fortress. His men are leaving him. Coming to the top outside, he sees Birnam Woods (its trees being used as shields) coming through the fog. A child is in front. Soon the evil politico is murdering his last soldier before the field fills with corpses. MacDuff finally produces a bloody bag with a significant head in it. He kneels to the young Malcolm, new King, with the promise of a restored Scotland. Peace be with it, with us. We’ve survived evil in a not only good but magnificent production.
The hundreds involved bow. Included is a small lady from Thailand who (as a poster outside explains) has given Jean-Jacques Lemettre a rest from performing his powerful music. Ariane Mnouchkine walks out from the doorway. Her genius is appreciated wholeheartedly by all on and off stage.
