Geoffrey
Streatfeild is one of our more intelligent actors, who thinks through
and constructs roles with the deliberation almost of the sainted Simon
Russell Beale. Indeed, some of my reservations about his past
performances may have arisen because the roles in question did not seem
naturally to be susceptible to such an approach. On the face of it, one
might think the same about Macbeth. A man driven at first by ambitious
appetite and then buffeted by the imperatives of the chain of events he
has set in train, he is much given to soliloquy, but none of his voiced
reflections and uncertainties ever threatens to affect the drama itself.
Streatfeild illustrates this well: right from Macbeth’s opening
encounter with the witches, his soliloquies seem less to be Macbeth
wrapped up in himself than expostulating for the benefit of the
audience, yet he manages this without breaking the dramatic frame. But
the crux of his approach is seen at the end of Act III, Scene 4, the
final couple of minutes of the first half of Daniel Evans’ revival. In
barely 20 lines, Macbeth transforms from the gibbering wreck just now
menaced by the ghost of Banquo to the grimly determined villain who
accepts and prosecutes his role with the portentous remark “We are yet
but young in deed.” Streatfeild shows us this rapid but decisive
journey, and makes us understand why this is also the moment at which
Lady Macbeth’s own horrified realisation takes her on the opposite
switch from infernal schemer to sleepwalking madwoman. Claudie
Blakley’s Lady M is consistently impassioned, but the need to escalate
means that her final somnambulism scene hits operatic intensity.
Evans has turned the Crucible for this production from its customary
deep thrust into a full in-the-round space, the bloody thane’s
goings-on observed from all sides as they play out on Richard Kent’s
smoking stone circle of a set, reminiscent of one of Richard Long’s
geographical sculptures. There are occasional questionable notes (such
as the witches’ goddess, who appears so bedecked in twigs, leaves and
fronds that she looks less like Hecate than Thicket), but these can
usually be unknotted (Hecate prefigures the “moving grove” of the
invading troops dressed up as trees). David Ganly’s Banquo rumbles
Macbeth almost from the first, conveyed with wordless looks; David
Hounslow makes a rounded character of the usually perfunctory Lennox.
And at the core, Streatfeild makes Macbeth human without sapping him
with sympathy.
Written for the Financial
Times.