STRATFORD — I shudder when I think about how much money was poured into the Stratford Festival’s latest “Macbeth,” which opened Wednesday at the Avon Theatre.
Inside The program of director Robert Lepage’s production, created in collaboration with his company Ex Machina, is a four-page insert listing the hundreds of donors who have bankrolled this revival, which will tour to Montreal, Quebec City and Ottawa next year.
Indeed, it’s an expensive, extravagant and altogether epic endeavour. And yet, this highly anticipated staging amounts to nothing more than a feeble letdown, despite some glimpses of brilliance and its starry cast of Stratford favourites.
Lepage sets his version of the Scottish Play in the context of the Quebec Biker War, a drug-related turf war between two motorcycle gangs that terrorized the city of Montreal for nearly a decade, leaving more than 160 people dead between 1994 and 2002.
Ariane Sauvé’s set drops the audience into the heart of the action. Its centrepiece is an imposing two-storey motel, frequented by Macbeth (Tom McCamus) and his fellow outlaws, dressed in leather (the costumes are designed by Michael Gianfrancesco) and riding on spiffed-up motorcycles that zoom around the stage.
Impressive as this mise-en-scène is, however, Lepage’s high-concept and heavily edited treatment feels like it’s constantly trying to square a circle. Any attempt to draw parallels between these “Macbeth” characters and the historical figures involved in the Quebec Biker War only proves futile.
Is King Duncan (David Collins) supposed to represent former Hells Angels leader Maurice Boucher? Is the story meant to depict the warring factions and hierarchy within a single group — or between two opposing gangs? None of this is entirely clear.
Lepage says in his program note that any director leading a production of “Macbeth” should “choose a context in which contemporary audiences can better grasp the twists and turns of the intrigue and the psychological complexities of the characters.” But instead of offering clarity, his own concept — as typical of most Shakespeare productions placed in a setting that’s based on a real historical event — merely adds more confusion.
The most laughably ridiculous moment: when Macduff (Tom Rooney) and his gang of burly biker men start chopping down Birnam Wood to use as “camouflage” as they stage their final attack on Macbeth.
If you’re able to look past these incongruities, there are bright spots to this production — at times imaginative and cheeky, throwing reverence to the wind.
In particular, some of the design elements conceived by Lepage are stunning. Perhaps his greatest coup de theatre comes right at the top of the show: In his prologue, two assassins steer a small boat into the middle of the lake. In it is the traitorous Thane of Cawdor, his head tied up in a gunny sack. The men strap him to a pair of concrete blocks, then push him overboard, setting forth a chain of events that will see Macbeth driven to madness by his own ambition and thirst for power.
Later on, Lepage pulls off yet another. I’m loathe to spoil what it is, but it involves a scorching scene transition between Banquo’s murder and Macbeth’s banquet (depicted here, of course, as a backyard barbecue cookout).
There’s a cinematic feel to much of this production. (After the prologue, in fact, Lepage projects a series of opening credits onto a screen at the front of the stage.) But in the end, these visual set pieces feel more like self-serving gimmicks, some of which hinder instead of help to serve the story itself.
Sauvé’s set is so large and unwieldy that the scene transitions, particularly in the first half, take far too long, killing any sense of momentum. Those motorcycles are also so overused that by the fifth or sixth time they’re rolled out, I wondered if Lepage was just trying to justify the expense of making them.
A poorly conceived production of “Macbeth” can be redeemed by a strong set of performances. But that’s not the case here. Throughout, I rarely got the sense from this ensemble that they’re living in a world of hypermasculinity and violence.
With his deep, sonorous voice, McCamus’ rather traditional take on Macbeth is cold and calculating. But though great in the first half of the play, McCamus overdoes his subsequent scenes of madness. Writhing on the floor, like a helpless creature, it feels as though he’s playing a caricature of Macbeth rather than the character himself.
As Lady Macbeth, Lucy Peacock delivers a performance that’s similarly one of diminishing returns. She’s terrifyingly domineering and manipulative early on, goading her husband into murdering Duncan and seizing the crown. Peacock’s voice, almost maniacal, flirts between complete seriousness and carefree glibness.
But Peacock’s interpretation of Lady Macbeth’s famous sleepwalking scene feels surprisingly dull, with her speech lacking both energy and a coherent through-line on opening night.
Graham Abbey fares far better as Banquo, Macbeth’s friend-turned nemesis. But both Collins and Rooney are uncharacteristically stiff and, at times, unintelligible. (The poor sound amplification, and the fact they’re all miked, is part of the problem.)
Among the bikers, however, it’s André Sills and Emilio Vieira who are most convincing, as Ross and Lennox, respectively. Kudos to Maria Vacratsis, as well, who plays the Porter (the motel manager in this version) and milks the laughs with her sexually charged speech in the second act.
The witches (played by Aidan deSalaiz, Paul Dunn and Anthony Palermo) are portrayed as a trio of transgender prostitutes and drug addicts, scorned by Macbeth, yet whose prophesies lead to his downfall. This is a fascinating take, but one that I felt could be presented more sensitively.
You really could say that about this production as a whole. Brash and bold yet lacking in its finer details, it’s proof that no amount of money nor special effects can correct for a misguided vision.
