“If there be nothing new, but that which is, hath been before…”
So begins William Shakespeare’s 59th sonnet. Without plunging into a deep dive about how queer his raft of poems dedicated to the ‘Fair Youth’ who goes by he/him pronouns are, this opening provocation reads like a prophecy. As if the Bard has stumbled upon a coven of three Weird (or wayward) Sisters upon the heath and granted a vision of how often his works will be rewritten.
Which brings us neatly to the bajillionth retooling of The Tragedy of Macbeth – aka The Scottish Play – by fellow British playwright Zinnie Harris. She previously reclaimed ancient Greek playwright Aeschylus’ tragic triptych The Oresteia, Norwegian titan Henrik Ibsen’s downward spiralling The Master Builder and Jacobean dramatist John Webster’s similarly bloody The Duchess of Malfi.
Macbeth (An Undoing) is spun on the idea that we’ve only heard half of the story and that this version will correct the record of the infamous Lady Macbeth. It’s not the first feminist retelling. In fact, there’s been a glut of late, including Scottish crime writer Val McDiarmid’s Queen Macbeth and fellow novelist Isabelle Schuler’s Queen Hereafter. But is it magic?
Back to the witches’ prophecies.
The hurly-burly of this rewriting works best when it’s commanded not by the Macbeths (Bojana Novakovic and Johnny Carr, who starred in Bell Shakespeare’s 1999 production of Romeo and Juliet and 2018 Antony and Cleopatra respectively) but by a towering Natasha Herbert’s head 'crone'. Once again steered by Malthouse’s artistic director Matthew Lutton – who last worked with the esteemed actor on the hauntingly immersive show Hour of the Wolf – Herbert is a marvel to behold.
Breaking the fourth wall from the off, her Carlin creeps around the edges of Dann Barber’s remarkable, revolving and multi-chambered set. Capturing us rapt, mid-preshow chatter, she hurls an incendiary question that could just as easily be lobbed at today’s true crime fans.
Why our obsession with blood and misery? With this story of a woman and her husband whose heads are so turned by the promise of the crown that they will commit bloody murder to seize the throne? In so doing, they have damned themselves to be shrouded with “the dunnest smoke of hell” in audiences’ minds forevermore (though Shakespeare’s fictional version of the ‘truth’ is libellously loose).
It’s a thrilling beginning that catches us complicit in the Macbeths’ unnatural deeds, promising a genuine upending of the story. Only the first act does not deliver, beyond Carlin’s welcome interjections and a subtly drawn commentary on class achieved through casting the witches – left hungry at the castle’s door – in the dual role of the keep’s maltreated servants. Jessica Clarke, also fun as a gossipy Lady Macduff, and Tyallah Bullock, doubling as the gormless Malcolm in the show’s only gender flip, round out the trio.
Instead, Harris mostly hews to the bulk of the play. Sadly, Novakovic, a gifted actor, does not rise to the material. Presenting a rather lacklustre Lady Macbeth, her oddly lowkey turn robs much of the role’s Machiavellian thrills from a dashed-off “unsex me” speech on. It’s not a great sign when I catch myself thinking Clarke would bring more battle to the field.
Carr’s Macbeth also seems to be going through the motions, as does Jim Daly’s doomed King Duncan. Thankfully Rashidi Edward’s betrayed Banquo and David Wood’s irascible Macduff – the one true Scot in the cast, with no one else feigning the accent, thankfully – inject a bit more oomph. But collectively, they feel a little lost. As grand as Barber’s revolving castle and intriguing glimpses at incoming action stage left are, its juddering motion occasionally distracts. However, there’s no faulting his leather-forward costumes.
It’s the promising central premise that feels underserved. Harris mainly adds a bit of campy comedy to the backstory, with Clarke relishing the banter even if it doesn’t add much to Lady Macduff’s fate. The bulk of the rewriting comes in the second act, as Novakovic’s Lady M increasingly seeks to seize control of her destiny by borrowing a trick from Herbert’s Carlin. Can she escape an eternal narrative that punishes her plotting (a shared crime) more than her husband’s drawn daggers?
Oddly, the juiciest stuff sticks with Macbeth, particularly the transposition of her “out damn spot” to his unravelling. Carr comes into the role here, but it can’t help but feel a little counterintuitive, stealing some of Lady M’s best lines. The final stretch eventually bends this well-worn narrative into an intriguing shape, as amplified by the skittering of Jethro Woodward’s fluttering bird sound design. Still, it’s not enough to fly free.
When all ends unwell, the revisionist twists of the knife in Macbeth (An Undoing) may not be revelatory, and several performances under-punch, but it’s handsomely staged by Lutton and anchored by a mighty Herbert’s spellbinding turn.
Macbeth (An Undoing) will play at Malthouse's Merlyn Theatre from July 5-28. Tickets are now on sale here.