The Tragedy of Macbeth: using the grandiose to illuminate the intimate
6 Jul 2025 - Photos by David Hou

Shakespeare is infinitely interpretable. The setting, the themes given emphasis, and even the delivery of the text can illuminate whatever the director finds most intriguing or crucial in the play. For this Macbeth, Robert Lepage (The Tragedy of Hamlet Prince of Denmark, Totem, 887, Needles and Opium) layers the plot and words over 1990s bikers to explore fate, gender and voyeurism through Shakespeare's familiar depiction of the dangers of lusting for power. This production begins with a graphic depiction of a biker execution by drowning that turns into a stunningly beautiful image over which floats a series of credits. Metal guitars blare before becoming a more grandiose score by John Gzowski (The Tragedy of Hamlet) who later wittily melds guitar riffs and bagpipes to remind us of the play's original setting. The effect is very TCM melodrama, emphasized by the near black and white quality. The credits go on to list all the major artists involved with the production, but the one to pay attention to is "Directed and Designed by Robert Lepage."

Lepage is well known for his love of technological innovation and in this case the "designed by" credit is crucial. The opening is stunning as are several other scenes, but the huge revolving and interlocking set, a spectacular creation of a squalid two-story hotel, becomes almost another character. As massive as it is as it reveals different settings and rooms, it is also crushing. The characters are always dwarfed and the ceilings bear down on them. We look through windows and anticipate what dingy hotel room will be next revolve into view. These characters are doomed, their fates sealed. To contrast, the use of mirrors opens the theatre into a vast eternity. The forest is a literal forest, the biker army stretches to the horizon, and, most crucially, we are always aware of the mirror effect as it allows the ghosts and the supernatural to interact without being in contact. Visually this Macbeth is beyond cinematic into a theatrical hyper-realism.

It doesn't always work as planned. The set requires numerous stagehands who unfortunately are sometimes briefly visible. In a play full of ghosts and visions, they provide a misleading appearance at several points when glimpsed spectrally through a window. The mirrors also can't help but reflect the audience which is initially distracting, but as the corpses mount up, it becomes an indictment of our voyeurism. We are absorbed in the melodrama but as with all tabloidesque voyeurism, this tale of bikers and royalty is fuelled by our watching. A witty coup de theatre opens the second act, and while it gets its own burst of applause and distracting laughter, it also portends what is to come. The final image, after an excruciatingly realistic final battle, sadly also drew laughter from the audience I attended with. Whether it was too much, or the audience was too jaded, is impossible to tell, as is the value of the audience leaving for intermission raving about the set. A delicate balance that occasionally got overwhelmed by the clever spectacle.

Not that the performances and attention to the text are anything but precise. There is a tendency to mimic the melodrama of the opening, but then the events of Macbeth are in essence melodramatic. Tom McCamus (Salesman in China, Hedda Gabler, King Lear, Queen Goneril) is a fascinating Macbeth, escalating into madness while treating each line with rich tones and illuminating cadence. We see much of the supernatural elements through his eyes, the visions made literal so we can experience his descent. His connection with the murdered Banquo, Graham Abbey (London Assurance, Romeo and Juliet, Snow White), at a barbecue is glorious and terrifying. So are the encounters with the witches, Aidan deSalaiz (La Cage Aux Folles), Paul Dunn (The Gay Heritage Project, Pig) and Anthony Palermo (The Goat or, Who is Sylvia?, She, Men & the Great F*cking Snake, The Gray) who are specifically presented as trans and throb with a trashy eroticism that Macbeth responds to. Behind the mirrors they are mysterious and hideous, as guests at the barbecue, they are biker trade or groupies. The "double double, toil and trouble" scene has never been as down to earth. Or as unearthly.

Lucy Peacock (The Goat or, Who is Sylvia?, Cymbeline) as a biker chick Lady Macbeth is also framed by her gender. Though she is the engine of Macbeth's ambition, she is often left waiting, even getting news via a phone message. The frustration she feels builds to the "unsex me here" speech and her sexual hunger for Macbeth is palpable. When they wrestle for who is in charge sexually, Macbeth's 
Bring forth men-children only; 
For thy undaunted mettle should compose
Nothing but males
makes crystal clear sense. This is one tough broad. Yet Peacock pushes further and her "out, out damn spot" speech is so vulnerable it hurts. The context, a sordid and cramped hotel room bathroom, helps, but so does a small revelation that her voluminous 'do is a wig furthering the gender discussion. Peacock is magnificent.

In contrast we have the bikers. Emilio Vieira (London Assurance, Romeo and Juliet, Twelfth Night, Richard II, Grand Magic, Towards Youth), David Collins (London Assurance, Twelfth Night, Richard II) and Andre Sills (Twelfth Night, Human Animals) are scruffy and always searching for the next sensation and allegiance. They have enough presence, and are clad in enough leather, to make even the motorbikes that prowl the stage seem real. Tom Rooney (Fifteen Dogs, Uncle Vanya, The Wedding Party) as MacDuff starts tough but blazes with exposed agony on the news of the slaughter of his family. Intriguingly, Malcolm, Austin Eckert (London Assurance, Twelfth Night), is presented as the most unambiguously non-homoerotic. With an open shirt to display his abs, he rants before testing MacDuff's loyalties by contrasting himself with Macbeth.    
But there’s no bottom, none,
In my voluptuousness. Your wives, your daughters,
Your matrons, and your maids could not fill up
The cistern of my lust, and my desire
An unbridled lust for women is less dangerous than a lust for power. But Malcolm is not necessarily being truthful, and the witches and Lady Macbeth are the ones driving Macbeth. Gender and sexuality are a confusing stew. 

The comic relief of the porter is provided by Maria Vacratsis (Mother's Daughter, Prince Hamlet, Late Night, Cake and Dirt) as the doyenne of the hotel. In a very masculine fashion she straddles a semi-conscious biker, cleans up matter-of-factedly after a bloody murder, and has a duplicitous streak. Vacratsis is a delight and the porter is more in control than anyone knows. While the design invites us to peer into various crannies, into the black soul of what Macbeth becomes, it is also populated with life. The bikers deal drugs on the sidelines, we see partying through windows, the "Vacancy" sign flickers to "No," and we see ourselves watching the inexorable unfolding of the tragedy. The spectacle bears down on the characters but lures us in, giving us intimate glimpses embedded in the grandiose scale. Lepage and a fine cast have been true to the text of Macbeth, too literally with the "is this a dagger which I see before me" speech, and the biker milieu fits as tightly as a pair of leather chaps. Shakespeare is infinitely interpretable.