Shocking Twist: Ralph Fiennes Humanizes Macbeth – A Killer with Soulful Weariness Revealed!

“Macbeth” is strewn with casualties — not just in its fictitious war scenes. The play has claimed a host of notable directors and actors, all succumbing to the play’s true curse: its subtle yet profound dramatic complexity.

The issue seems paradoxical. How could a play as theatrically captivating as “Macbeth” ignite an audience’s fascination only to drain it by the conclusion?

Macbeth’s evolution as the main character is peculiar. He begins as a commendable war hero, but after he assassinates the king to secure the throne for himself, he transforms into a ruthless despot, succumbing to paranoia and bloodshed.

The allure of the supernatural element is compelling. As a young Shakespeare enthusiast, I was captivated by the eloquent language, the sinister ambiance, and the terrifying predicament of a character who achieves his subconscious desire at the cost of his soul.

I regard “Macbeth” as Shakespeare’s most psychological tragedy, but in a manner entirely different from “Hamlet,” which focuses on the most self-reflective character in all of literature. Macbeth, a warrior, is not particularly introspective. His soliloquies surface early and delve more into his strategic plans than the root of his emotions.

The psychology in “Macbeth” is externalized. The exterior world mirrors internal reality. Even the play’s supernatural aspect is tied to Macbeth’s thoughts. The peculiar sisters who prophesy his future greatness do not guide him on how to seize the throne. They provoke temptation, but ambition is already smoldering within him.

The challenge for the actor portraying Macbeth is managing those instances in which the audience is offered a fleeting view of the character’s ethical and emotional turmoil. In the theater, amidst the exciting witchcraft and suspenseful criminality, it’s easy to overlook Macbeth’s apprehensions and remorse.

“Macbeth” demands dynamic focus. One reason the play may fare better in film than on stage is that cinema can seamlessly transition between special effects and close-ups.

The latest film adaptation, featuring Ralph Fiennes and Indira Varma, merges the best of both mediums. It started as a stage production that was recorded in London and will be shown in selected cinemas on Thursday and Sunday. Fiennes (a renowned classical stage actor who directed and starred in a film adaptation of Shakespeare’s most challenging tragedy, “Coriolanus”) and Varma (who portrayed Ellaria Sand in HBO’s “Game of Thrones”) are in the final week of their sold-out American theatrical run in Washington, D.C., with the Shakespeare Theatre Company.

Directed by STC Artistic Director Simon Godwin, this modern-dress “Macbeth” relies on an adaptation by Emily Burns that mostly adheres to Shakespeare’s original text. Having viewed the film on my laptop, I can’t claim that I had the optimal viewing experience to fully appreciate the staging.

I found the murder scenes more distressing than the contrived wartime spectacle. The witches, garbed in ordinary streetwear, resemble a troublesome girl gang. The way Godwin uses these women as a chorus, observing scenes they are not involved in, adds more significance to their watchful presence than I could interpret. What is evident, however, is that the Macbeths are in over their heads in their pact with evil.

Fiennes’ Macbeth is a seasoned warrior, hardened by battle yet spirit-tired. Banquo (Steffan Rhodri), his loyal comrade on the battlefield, appears even older. Covered in blood after a tough victory, both seem ready for retirement, preferably somewhere peaceful along the Scottish coast, far from the tumult of their campaigns.

An early hint that Macbeth has long harbored dreams of kingship is his response to the witches’ prophecy that he will “be king hereafter.” “Good sir, why do you start and seem to fear / Things that do sound so fair,” Banquo queries him in my edition of the play.

This detail in the text is one of those minor opportunities that Shakespeare offers to clarify that Macbeth is not just a marionette of destiny. Fiennes doesn’t emphasize the moment, but he does take full advantage of an early aside in which he is already contemplating eliminating the king’s eldest son, Malcolm, the heir apparent, from his path to the throne.

Lady Macbeth has not yet sunk her claws into her husband. Harold Bloom relished the grim irony that the Macbeths have the most harmonious marriage in all of Shakespeare. He probably wouldn’t arrive at that conclusion were he alive to see this production.

Varma’s Lady Macbeth is undoubtedly the dominant personality in this household. Her tone is chastising, filled with maternal exasperation. Her husband’s indecisive nature infuriates her. When Macbeth’s doubts about committing regicide overcome him, she berates him mercilessly. “Bring forth men-children only,” he advises her, kneeling before her and resting the side of his head on her womb, almost as if he might yearn to return to such motherly sanctuary.

Fiennes’ Macbeth, slow in speech, hints at what Hamlet might have been like had he survived and learned to navigate the lethal game of power politics. Sigmund Freud would likely have attributed Macbeth’s issues here to his unresolved Oedipus complex. Beneath this military machine lies a vulnerable boy who is reluctant to defy his mother.

Even before Macbeth encounters the ghost of Banquo at the banquet, he adopts a version of Hamlet’s feigned madness, laughing oddly and acting unpredictably. Lady Macbeth appears on the brink of slapping him. When the recently slain Banquo disrupts the party, Macbeth’s mental collapse intensifies, indicating a psychotic episode more than a guilty conscience.

A Hamlet-like take on Macbeth is inherently problematic. While Hamlet is characterized by deliberation and delay, Macbeth navigates the world like a runaway freight train. The character takes pride in the way his violent temper outpaces his reason. How else could he have risen to the rank of a decorated general?

The reality is that if Macbeth had even a fraction of Hamlet’s philosophical mindset, he would never have murdered the king. But Fiennes’ approach has an upside. My sympathy for the character increased — a seldom occurrence in my experience of this play’s productions. Even when Fiennes’ Macbeth casually orders the death of the Macduffs as if ordering the evening meal, he portrays a character tragically estranged from himself.

Both Lady Macduff (Rebecca Scroggs) and Macduff (Ben Turner) are heartbreakingly moving in their foolproof roles. Shakespeare, a shrewd orchestrator of the audience’s experience, unleashes a wave of emotion in their separate scenes.

In the castle, by contrast, such natural sentiment is suppressed. When Lady Macbeth sleepwalks into her culpable death, the most touching aspect is the brusque way her husband carries on with his affairs.

The paths of the Macbeths diverge with ironic contradiction. Lady Macbeth proves not to be a fourth witch immune to guilt but a mortal woman incapable of suppressing her sins.

Conversely, Macbeth loses his ability to feel anything. Fiennes allows us to comprehend the enormity of this loss. In my experience, it’s easier to empathize with and excuse the overreaching ambition of a younger Macbeth. But Fiennes and Denzel Washington in Joel Coen’s 2021 film “The Tragedy of Macbeth” render vivid depictions of childless, death-obsessed men with nothing more to live for than the hollow pursuit of power.