Spirits Hardly Unsexed in Macbeth

Roust Theatre Company’s Macbeth is a dark, nightmarish vision, with ample doses of cruelty, corsets, and violent acts of torture. A portrait of the underbelly of human nature, this somewhat nontraditional rendition of “the Scottish play” potently serves a grimy plate of pain, though it leaves the appetite desiring something a bit more substantial.

Macbeth (Trey Ziegler) inhabits a crude realm reminiscent of a modern criminal underworld. The men are pistol-wielding, leather-jacketed thugs, while the women are slinking sex objects. The characters are driven solely by their unrepressed thirsts for power, sex, and violence. Freudian urges are uninhibited and frequently intertwined. The governing presence of baser, animal tendencies are clear from the first scene, when the three witches, portrayed as underage prostitutes, emerge as undulating wraiths, crawling and hissing in beige rags.

With a text that emphasizes gender roles and reversals, the play effectively makes a strong statement about relations between men and women. As Thane of Cawdor is inflicted with blows from a hammer, it becomes apparent that the male characters derive their power and sense of masculinity from acts of violence. Female characters attain their sense of power through the expression of their sexuality: in Macbeth’s fantasy, the three witches, clad in glittery tulle skirts and little else, bind the king to the sound of techno music and Darth Vader-like voices. Similarly, when Lady Macbeth (Tracy Hostmyer) delivers her “Unsex Me Here” soliloquy—a ritual for the acquisition of power—she ends by writhing on a crimson bedspread. As the play progresses, the men begin to assert their power through sexual means as well, culminating in an intensely distressing scene of rape.

It is easy for the vulgar yet glamorous Lady Macbeth, in leopard print stilettos and tight red satin, to outshine her easily manipulated husband. Even as Macbeth climbs the political ladder, Lady Macbeth remains the stronger—though not always seamless—presence. In her final moment onstage, we see her furiously scrubbing her hands as she convulses and tears apart her white nightshift. She seeks purification from a senselessly vicious and cruel world, and by this point, so do we. One of the most striking and easily underrated performances comes from Macduff (Duane Boutte), who is perhaps the only character with whom we can begin to sympathize. Upon finding his family killed, he is devastated, declaring, “But I must also feel it like a man,” a revelatory expression of sensitivity in an otherwise callous society.

The production provokes a visceral response, as spectators are forced to watch plenty of cringe-worthy scenes. While the play often evokes discomfort, it is rarely deeply moving. The majority of the time, it has the strong shock impact of a slasher film. Macbeth’s “Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow” speech, a disappointingly unmemorable monologue in this show, does not deliver a poignant moment of reflection on human life, partially because this Macbeth does not appear insightful. After an intermission-free 100 minutes, the moments one recalls most vividly are the most graphic and unsettling—the strangling of a mentally disabled character comes to mind. These sequences, though well-paced and palpable, make one wonder: is the lack of emotion an intended reflection of an empty world, or is there little more than a “walking shadow” at the core of the production itself?
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Roust Theatre Company’s Macbeth plays at Theatre 3, located at West 43rd St. between Eighth and Ninth avenues. Tickets can be purchased for $18 at smarttix.com.