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Dunsinane
Reviewed by Paul Birchall
Wallis Annenberg Center
Through April 5
RECOMMENDED:
Playwright David Grieg’s compelling drama is a sequel of sorts to Shakespeare’s Macbeth. Given that just about everyone is dead at the end of Shakespeare’s play, one could well ask “what on earth can happen in a sequel to Macbeth?” Do the Three Witches move on down to Fort Lauderdale to get a condo together? Does that rascally Porter of Hellsgate take a gig in the Catskills to pay the court bills for his sloppy doormanship? Do the dead rise from their peat boggy graves to sing the theme song for Macbeth 2: Electric Boogaloo? The mind reels.
In fact, Grieg’s play is less based on the Shakespeare drama than it is on the actual history of Scotland, which, arguably, is even more exciting and horrifying, given that the events recounted actually took place. The work has been touring the world for several years – but its themes dovetailed nicely with the build up to the election for Scottish seccession in 2014. In many respects, this is the season of Scottish nationalism, and this drama plants its shaggy fur 10th century fur pelt tent-pole directly on the side of Scotland being its own nation.
The drama, courtesy of the National Theatre of Scotland and the Royal Shakespeare Company operates on several levels simultaneously: You can watch the piece as post-Shakespearean, Scottish history; you can also see the play as a political statement against British control of Scotland, and of the international meddling by the British government in Iraq and Afghanistan.
Grieg’s play starts somewhat around the finale of Shakespeare’s drama, as the English army, commanded by Northumberland Lord Siward (Darrell D’Silva) conquers Macbeth’s castle Dunsinane. Macbeth is quickly deposed (off stage) and Siward installs Scottish puppet Prince Malcolm (Ewan Donald) as ruler of Scotland. Siward desires to impose peace on the kingdom, but that’s as likely as finding leggings on a kilt. After his own son is killed, Siward forges an uneasy alliance with Macbeth’s devilishly inscrutable widow and queen, Gruach (Siobhan Redmond), who has her own plans to put her son on the throne, but she doesn’t seem to mind fadeedling with the English so long as it suits her plans. Blood treachery and revenge shift from one side to the other, seemingly for eternity, until someone steps in to bring it all to a conclusive end. Perhaps by voting for Scotland to secede from the United Kingdom? Or maybe by pulling out of Iraq?
With a narrative that contains more themes and ideas than a haggis contains bits of offal, this is a powerfully intelligent and at times cerebral drama which sublimates the schematics of political power plays through intense emotion and anger, often in the style of an episode of Game of Thrones. Director Roxana Silbert’s staging is dynamic and ferocious, capturing the atrocity and adrenaline of battle (abetted by fight director Terry King’s powerful fight sequences), but also by the nuanced emotions of seduction and hypocrisy. Characters stagger into castles, covered with blood, and perform rage-filled atrocities – only to have the pendulum swing back with the oppressed getting their chance to torture their guards right back.
Grieg’s poetic writing is lyrical and rather dream-like, punctuated by irony and dark humor. On a set (designed by Robert Innes Hopkins) that seems full of wide open spaces, with a craggy set of rocks for characters to sit and negotiate over, the mood Silbert creates is creepy and cold — no place for sensible people to fight over. D’Silva’s flinty, idealistic Siward, white haired with a flint-sharp beard, is a moving, yet oddly pathetically rigid character who quickly finds himself torn between the desire to win and the horrors of a never-ending war.
Donald’s oily, and eerily modern Malcolm is a perfect portrait of cynical, Machiavellian scheming: He believes in nothing but crafting the right image to maintain his power and authority. The most compelling portrayal, though, is offered by Redmond’s brilliantly regal Gruach, in a turn that crackles with rage, bitterness, ambition, and unexpected humor. Her performance – dignified, but desperate, with her envisioning herself as the very symbol of Scotland – is as flinty as shale, but strangely attractive and appealing as well.
National Theatre of Scotland and the Royal Shakespeare Company at the Wallis Annenberg Center for the Performing Arts, 9390 N. Santa Monica Blvd., Beverly Hills: Tues.- Fri., 8 p.m.; Sat., 3 and 8 p.m.; Sun., 2 & 7 p.m.; through April 5. (310) 746-4000, www.thewallis.org.
