Probably the strangest bit of trivia about this version of MacBeth is that it was produced by the Playboy corporation, of all things. Or perhaps it's not really that surprising given director Roman Polanski's lecherous ways that he was in alliance with Hefner et al. Certainly, this isn't soft-porn Shakespeare (unless you count some elderly nakedness and the leaving in of one of the bard's penis jokes). No, this is in fact more in keeping with the era's penchant for realism, especially in the field of violence.
The bleakness of a Scottish picture really suits Polanski, but it is his trademark feeling of enclosure that most of all gives this MacBeth its character. With the simplest of elements he can make the image feel maddeningly hemmed-in. There is a lot of heavy foreground business, as well as visible ceilings and low angles, but the real trick is the way Polanski gives us just a tiny glimpse of an exit. There is, for instance, a shot just before MacBeth gets made thane where he awakens in his tent. As he raises his head a gap in the seams of the tent comes into view, and the result is more claustrophobic than if it had been simply bare canvas behind him. This confined atmosphere is of best effect in the Duncan murder scene, which has echoes of the demon rape in Rosemary's Baby, Polanski's previous picture. Note that there is no dialogue in this scene; it is not an official part of the play and most versions do not include it. So Polanski is taking a gamble in showing the act, but he pulls it off fairly well. Also very good is the dreamlike series of visions in the witches' den, which go for a warm, prickly fear rather than spooky chills.
In coaching his actors Polanski seems to want to shear the production of all theatricality, treating Shakespeare's play as if it were a new screenplay rather than a thing of grand traditions. Hence we get the witches' rather businesslike manner of stating that they are off to meet with MacBeth. As such, while not badly acted, the performances don't really stand out. The naturalism is nice to see, but it could do with a little more heart and soul. Another problem is that some of the more quirky bit players, for example Richard Pearson as the doctor, seem strangely out-of-place amid the more sober lead actors. Polanski makes up for the lack of grandiose hamming with plenty of blood-spattered medievalism, with stabbed-up corpses, bear-baiting matches and rolling heads. This is all fair enough, but perhaps the production could have done with a bit more of the old theatrics, to bring out the life in Shakespeare's lines.
And it also seems somewhat that Polanski has got caught up in the gore and authenticity and neglected some of the more abstract elements of the original work. For example, I would have liked to see a better realisation of the idea that the land itself, via the metaphor of the transplanted forest, is rejecting its false king. Not that one necessarily has to be faithful to every thought of the bard – I am all for reinterpretation – it's just that without some kind of commentary, some kind of ideal, it seems MacBeth becomes little more than a dreary catalogue of unpleasant happenings.
The bleakness of a Scottish picture really suits Polanski, but it is his trademark feeling of enclosure that most of all gives this MacBeth its character. With the simplest of elements he can make the image feel maddeningly hemmed-in. There is a lot of heavy foreground business, as well as visible ceilings and low angles, but the real trick is the way Polanski gives us just a tiny glimpse of an exit. There is, for instance, a shot just before MacBeth gets made thane where he awakens in his tent. As he raises his head a gap in the seams of the tent comes into view, and the result is more claustrophobic than if it had been simply bare canvas behind him. This confined atmosphere is of best effect in the Duncan murder scene, which has echoes of the demon rape in Rosemary's Baby, Polanski's previous picture. Note that there is no dialogue in this scene; it is not an official part of the play and most versions do not include it. So Polanski is taking a gamble in showing the act, but he pulls it off fairly well. Also very good is the dreamlike series of visions in the witches' den, which go for a warm, prickly fear rather than spooky chills.
In coaching his actors Polanski seems to want to shear the production of all theatricality, treating Shakespeare's play as if it were a new screenplay rather than a thing of grand traditions. Hence we get the witches' rather businesslike manner of stating that they are off to meet with MacBeth. As such, while not badly acted, the performances don't really stand out. The naturalism is nice to see, but it could do with a little more heart and soul. Another problem is that some of the more quirky bit players, for example Richard Pearson as the doctor, seem strangely out-of-place amid the more sober lead actors. Polanski makes up for the lack of grandiose hamming with plenty of blood-spattered medievalism, with stabbed-up corpses, bear-baiting matches and rolling heads. This is all fair enough, but perhaps the production could have done with a bit more of the old theatrics, to bring out the life in Shakespeare's lines.
And it also seems somewhat that Polanski has got caught up in the gore and authenticity and neglected some of the more abstract elements of the original work. For example, I would have liked to see a better realisation of the idea that the land itself, via the metaphor of the transplanted forest, is rejecting its false king. Not that one necessarily has to be faithful to every thought of the bard – I am all for reinterpretation – it's just that without some kind of commentary, some kind of ideal, it seems MacBeth becomes little more than a dreary catalogue of unpleasant happenings.