Mark Reviews Movies: THE TRAGEDY OF MACBETH (2021)

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Review by Mark Dujsik | December 23, 2021

The fog hangs heavily and rolls through a good portion of writer/director Joel Coen's The Tragedy of Macbeth. The mist obscures and reveals and obscures again, giving us just a momentary glimpse of a distant castle, sitting high on a hilltop, or parting for the eponymous nobleman, soon to be a king, before a different kind of fog—one in his mind—leads to his downfall. Everything is ephemeral in this world of magic, betrayal, fate, and murder. The sights, like these characters' aims and successes and lives, are there one moment and gone the next, but the fog and its portent remain.

There's a lot to admire about the look of this version of William Shakespeare's play, but that's not the point of Coen's adaptation. To borrow from a different Shakespeare work, the play is the thing in this film. One of the Bard's more accessible (in terms of plot and its relative brevity) and timeless (in terms of theme) plays receives an atmospheric production here, but the look and atmosphere are just that—matters of the production.

Coen borrows liberally from past cinematic versions of the play (Orson Welles' for the aesthetics, in terms of the shared black-and-white photography and the sharp lines/angles that give both a minor but noticeable taste of Expressionism, and Roman Polanski's for some of the story alterations, mainly giving a minor character a much bigger and more devious role, as well as the general mood of utter hopelessness). The key distinction, perhaps, is in the filmmaker's complete reverence for and devotion to the text.

Coen doesn't take shortcuts, doesn't cut what might seem unnecessary (A comic bit involving a porter, played by Stephen Root, breaks up the tone and the pacing, which is exactly what it's supposed to do in that moment), and doesn't hold the audience's hand through the dense, poetic language of Shakespeare. He trusts us to get it—or, at least, to get the gist of it.

The performances, from a deep cast of actors, help, of course, as they should in any production of Shakespeare. The fact that so much of the story's communication is left to the actors, though, is how we know Coen primarily cares about the text of the play itself.

A lot of stage productions and movie adaptation try to give new life to Shakespeare or re-imagine the plays in different contexts. This film, which possesses some clever staging and a significant sense of look/mood, reminds us that there's still plenty of life in Shakespeare's story, words, and ideas—just as they are and have existed for more than 400 years.

Is a plot synopsis necessary for a centuries-old tale? Despite its fame and notoriety (Theater folks don't call it "the Scottish play" for nothing—except that it is a lot of superstitious nothing) on stage, there actually haven't been too many film adaptations, especially compared to the other heavy-hitters of Shakespeare's oeuvre. Basically, Macbeth (Denzel Washington), a thane of medieval Scotland under the rule of King Duncan (Brendan Gleeson), is a mighty warrior, who recently vanquished an enemy force with the aid of friend and fellow general Banquo (Bertie Carvel).

On their way to the king, the two friends encounter a trio of witches (all of them, as revealed in a neat trick with reflection, played by Kathryn Hunter, in a particularly memorable performance of physical contortion). The "weird sisters" announce that Macbeth will soon receive a new title and, thereafter, become king. Banquo, meanwhile, will issue kings but never be one himself (The prophecy becomes more specific in a later scene that ingeniously turns a chamber floor into a magic cauldron).

With the first half of the prophecy fulfilled, Macbeth and, especially, his wife Lady Macbeth (Frances McDormand) want to ensure the second part comes to pass. They form a plan to murder Duncan while the king is a guest in their castle.

Everyone who has had even minimal contact with the play will recall the soliloquy about the phantom dagger, leading Macbeth toward his goal of using a very real one to slaughter Duncan, and that speech gives us a great sense of the strength of Washington's performance. It's one defined, at first, by the quiet hush of his voice, as a humble Macbeth is gradually overtaken by thoughts of power being only a knife's slash from his grasp.

Power corrupts, obviously—in general and for the former general who becomes king. Washington's portrayal of that transformation—from that modest and whispering man, hesitant to even consider murder, into a king who believes that a series of escalating killings is the only way to maintain his rule—is exactly right. Additionally, the bluster he brings to Macbeth's "vaulting ambition," leaping into unshakeable pride, adds to the potency of the play's central theme.

McDormand is equally up to the task of Lady Macbeth, whose initial control over the mind and will of her husband becomes a slide toward all-encompassing guilt. Both Washington and McDormand display a firm command of Shakespeare's language, and to her credit, the latter also knows that an "Oh!" on the page is an invitation to bring whatever emotion the moment requires—and oh, what, depths of anguished guilt she brings to the three in the soliloquy about the imaginary "damned spot."

Other fine performances here include Alex Hassell as the nobleman Ross (whose role is converted into a most calculating and casually cruel schemer), Corey Hawkins as Macbeth's inevitable foe Macduff, Gleeson as the kindly king, and Moses Ingram in a single—but particularly ruthless—scene as Macduff's doomed wife. Coen and cinematographer Bruno Delbonnel bring much gloom and many expanses of emptiness to the film's assorted spaces. For all of the severely lined sets and shadowy recesses of the backdrops, though, the two ensure that the lighting and camera treat the actors with the necessary visibility and clarity of a stage show (The film itself more or less pronounces that approach, with a couple of instances of sudden light accompanied by the sound of a switch being flipped).

The Tragedy of Macbeth strikes a skillful balance between its striking visual presentation and its presentation of the play. Ultimately, the words matter more, and that makes Coen's adaptation all the more an accomplishment.

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