Joel Coen’s “The Tragedy of Macbeth” is a lean, darkly beautiful, strangely engaging take on Shakespeare’s tragedy. I’ve seen a lot of Macbeths. Some go in for gore. Some go in for emotional angst. This one goes in for atmosphere, dramatic momentum, and a lot of aesthetic effect. This film is aimed at the head, not the heart, but that doesn’t mean it’s any less captivating.
The story you know, even if only in outline (and as pared down
as Coen’s adaptation is, outline is largely what you get). Macbeth is a
nobleman who excels on the field of battle. After a certain victory, Macbeth
(Denzel Washington) and his fellow soldier Banquo (Bertie Carvel) encounter
three witches (here, all Kathryn Hunter) who foretell their futures: Macbeth
will gain additional titles – ending in kingship; Banquo will not personally
prosper, but his sons will be kings. Macbeth is in fact awarded an additional
title when its owner is executed for treason – so he starts to wonder about that
crown. When he shares his thoughts with his wife (Frances McDormand), she likes
the idea, and suggests he get right to it by killing the current king, Duncan
(Brendon Gleeson) when he visits the Macbeths’ castle. Macbeth goes through
with it, becomes king, and tyranny, conspiracy, sleeplessness, and paranoia
ensue.
This is a familiar plot, and not just from high school English
class. Macbeth is in some ways the prototype of every guy who sneaks, kills,
and otherwise bad-dudes his way to the top, from Michael Corleone to Tony
Montana to Walter White. It’s the ultimate fable of paying the cost to be the
boss. The trick with a Shakespeare film is to do something interesting with
what is terribly familiar. Coen’s film does two interesting things with it:
makes it arrestingly and starkly beautiful, and speeds it up.
Beauty first. The film makes two opening moves in quick succession:
it shrinks the screen frame to almost square dimensions, and it’s in black and
white. There is no realism here; this is not one of those productions
translating Shakespeare to some familiar time & place. Instead, the art and
atmosphere start right away, with ravens, fog, and some creepy intonation of
the Bard’s verse by Hunter. The witches are a key to any good Macbeth,
and Hunter’s take is a banger. She starts as all three in one body,
voice-switching and contorting like Gollum doing Cirque de Soleil – but later
her form is refracted into three bodies via reflection or scenic symmetry. These
witches are known in-play as “weird sisters,” and boy, is Hunter weird. And
boy, does it work. Weird is, in fact, the watchword. Every scene is built on a
soundstage, and the designs look like they were sucked out of a college expressionism
textbook. There are seemingly endless hallways, windows that seem to extend up
forever, impossible skylights, a ruined cabin on a heath that belongs in “Waiting
for Godot,” monstrously claustrophobic battlements, and much more – all bathed
in great angles of light and shadow. It looks fake, but gloriously so. It looks
like a stage set no sane person would build. It looks great as the setting of
tragedy. The film also makes very good and unusual use of image patterns. Some,
like the blood which flows, drips, and spatters throughout, you expect from Macbeth.
Others, like the ravens and blowing leaves, you do not. This is a very visually
interesting film. I expect film classes to be taking its shots apart for
semesters to come.
Speed second. Macbeth is already one of the shorter Shakespeare
tragedies. This version clocks in at an hour and 45 minutes. There is no fat on
this thing. Don’t worry – everything you want is there. The killings. The
sleepwalking. The hallucinatory dagger. The knocking. Birnam Wood. “Tomorrow
and tomorrow and tomorrow.” “Out, damned spot.” Ghosts. But while the film
allows Macbeth his due ruminations about what he does, his hesitation is brief.
He goes for it, does it, and has to live with it (spoiler: or not). This gives the
movie a sense of momentum that never lets up. Novelist Jo Nesbo reimagined
Macbeth as a crime thriller. This doesn’t go that far, but there is a headlong,
thriller-esque feel, aided by Coen’s familiarity with the noir genre. It also
makes clear something often missed in productions more about Macbeth’s guilt:
he isn’t in power long. Much has been made of the age of the leads. Both
Washington and McDormand are north of 60; most Macbeth couples are younger,
playing on a kind of youthful ambition. I found this to work in concert with
the speed of the film. This is the Macbeths’ time. It has to be now – they may
not live much longer. It drives the plot and the plotting. And yet this also
undercuts the reward: so much death and terror for what? A few years? After
all, Macbeth “knows” from the prophecies that he will have no heirs. I felt the
futility here, giving an even darker edge to the famous “out, brief candle”
speech.
Of course, it doesn’t hurt to have ringers like Washington
and McDormand in the lead roles. As Macbeth, Washington gets to hit many of his
best notes – doomed nobility, politic affability, and menace. He also gets some
fight scenes that let Macbeth be what he’s reputed to be – a terror in combat. As
his lady, McDormand gets a good “strong woman” role, but excels particularly at
highlighting Lady Macbeth’s intelligence. Both actors let us see the Macbeths
as thoughtful people, and thus leave us to wonder if their ambition overrules
their intelligence, or is fueled by it. The acting is good across the board
here. Gleeson gives Duncan enough avuncular gravitas that we really do feel he
deserves a better fate. Corey Hawkins cuts a resolute figure as Macbeth’s
nemesis, the wronged Macduff. Stephen Root provides fleeting comic relief as
the Macbeths’ tipsy doorman. And Alex Hassell stands out as the enigmatic Ross,
turned here into a slippery character who seems the most like a refugee from
the films Joel made with his brother Ethan: stylish, sly, and with varying allegiances.
If there’s a nit to pick, it’s a common one with Coen films –
that art overtakes emotion. But I’m not sure that’s a vice here. Yes, I was
always aware I was watching a movie. Yes, I knew those were artificial
locations. Yes, I felt showed-off-to by that scene where the whole floor of
Macbeth’s room becomes the witches’ “cauldron.” But I was also constantly on
the edge of my seat, captivated by what I was being shown and delighting in
capable people speaking great words. Reader, I even often grinned. That may
mean this Macbeth is a weird “tragedy,” but it also means it’s a very
good movie.
As a postscript: I watched this the day after the Super Bowl
aired, replete with commercials for online betting and crypto-currency –
uncanny, high-risk ventures promising quick reward. Our “weird sisters” flicker
and beep rather than rasp and chant, but the temptations are the same. There’s
a reason this tragedy is timeless.
