Director's Notes: Characters in MACBETH

MACBETH is a study in tyranny; its origin, its psychology, its legacy. There are no heroes in MACBETH.  It is not a tragedy of character but rather a tragedy of consequence.  The ultimate tragedy in MACBETH is not the horrors and sufferings that Macbeth endures but what happens to the innocent victims of tyranny.  The ultimate guilt in MACBETH belongs to the people who allow him to become king and to those who carry out his heinous deeds after he assumes power.  Stalin, Hitler, Pol Pot, ad infinitum ad nauseum.  Individually they are the epitome of mediocrity, degradation, ruthlessness and brutality.  Surround them however with cowards, perverts, and the herd mentality, and all hell will break loose.

How anyone could listen to what Macbeth says and witness the absolute horrors he perpetrates, and then conclude that innately he is a man of nobility and honor is beyond rational comprehension.  Or perhaps it is a horrible comment about the psyche of a sizable part of the human race.

Macbeth speaks some of the most beautiful poetry in all of Shakespeare and all too frequently the beauty of the poetry is mistaken for the beauty of the man.  The eloquent poetry is of the medium and not the character. To judge his poetic imagination by the quality of his speech is a mistake.  The poetry is Shakespeare's but the tendencies, desires and actions are Macbeth's.  He, like his wife, is self-corrupted.  

From the very beginning killing is what he does and murder is on his mind.  He is a free agent and a voluntary sinner.  The weird sisters speak not one word of murder or intrigue to him.  They make a prediction that he will be king but they never imply, nor even remotely insinuate, that he must kill to make it come true.  And yet the insinuation on his part is clearly there from the beginning.  In Macbeth's mind the acquisition of the crown is synonymous with murder. They are inextricably bound.  And this alone explains his response to the prophecy. And when he is announced as Thane of Cawdor the vision of murder is so clear and persistent that is overwhelms all other thoughts.  

There are two primary reasons why he struggles over the doing of the deed.  He fears the consequences; revenge, retribution, hatred.  And he is bothered by the unmanliness of murdering Duncan.  Ironically and paradoxically, they are the very same reasons that make him kill Duncan.  Here is a perfect example of his skewed reasoning.  His fear of the consequences and his concern about the unmanliness of the deed become a challenge to his manliness and courage.  For Macbeth the ultimate test of kingship is manliness.  The final spur that will enable him to do the deed is when Lady Macbeth makes him realize that the ultimate test of manliness is to kill Duncan and take the throne.  And the fact is he wants to be convinced.  

There is absolutely no evidence of moral repugnance or religious scruples.  The possible consequences of the murder to his soul are nothing to him.  As he says himself, “We'd jump the life to come”.  One overriding obsession drives him on — the lust for power.  When he reenters after the murder to confront Macduff, Banquo and the others he has recovered from his initial shock.  He is totally steeled and determined to win.  He thinks of the puny mediocrity that surrounds him and the thought of losing to them is anathema to him.  He has lived, dreamed and strived for his goal and he will let nothing and no one steal it from him.  There isn't a trace of guilt nor a moment of defensiveness.  On the contrary, his mood and attitude are such that should anyone dare challenge him he would not defend but counterattack.  

He thinks of all the times he's risked his life for these pismires and hypocrites who always support whoever has the power.  He knows, better than anyone, the weakness of man and now he is fortified like a lion ready for the final assault upon the crown.  He has looked the devil in the face and what he's seen has so disoriented him that he's been forced to turn away.  But now that's past.  Nothing will ever make him turn away again.  

Macbeth is a great fighter; intrepid, bloodthirsty, indefatigable, brilliantly skilled, highly motivated, passionately devoted to his art.  In the battlefield he is in his element.  It is his home and his life.  Everything is clear, open, apparent.  There is no duplicity, no ambiguity, no imagination.  He responds intuitively and instinctively.  But like any human being, there are chinks in his armor.  Deep in his psyche there resides a terrible fear of fighting an invisible enemy; an enemy that can strike at any time or place; an enemy that all his superb skill cannot overcome.  Being a great fighter, Macbeth is unable to deal with doubt, uncertainty, delay or inaction.  It is not a fear of death but a fear of the unknown that so bewilders and terrifies him.  Because of his incredible imagination, which is his other vulnerability, he is overwhelmed by shadows, images and sounds.  Eventually this leads to the most extreme paranoia. Once he sees what he himself is capable of doing to achieve his goals he assumes the same desire and potential in others.  Everyone is suspect. Everyone is a potential enemy. Everyone must be watched, informed on, and, if necessary, murdered.  All others must be made to live in fear of this consequence. The greatest irony is that Macbeth, like all tyrants, fears his people even more than they fear him.

Lady Macbeth is strong, charming and totally feminine.  Her passion matches Macbeth’s but everything she does is for him and she has none of his excitable imagination.  There is nothing mystical or superstitious about her.  She is extremely practical and rooted to the earth.  Her apparent invocation to the spirits hovering in the air is in fact an inner dialogue, a determination to be calm and resolute and strong.

Like any human being she becomes temporarily overwhelmed by so much happening so quickly.  Unlike most others, however, she is able to conquer her nervousness and carry out her objectives.  She is one of those who detest inequality and injustice.  She believes in proper recompense for proper talent.  She adores and respects her husband.  She firmly believes he deserves to be king.  His talent and his achievements convince her of this.

But what motivates her to encourage him is his overwhelming passion for the throne.  It is all he speaks of and all he aspires to.  He is obviously the one who first broached the idea of murdering Duncan to achieve his goal.  He has made it clear to her that he will never be happy or fulfilled without the throne.  He has convinced her totally and therefore she supports him totally.

This is the primary proven circumstance at the opening of the play.  She is completely unselfish in her relationship with him.  It is his happiness, his fulfillment that she seeks.  Only when this is achieved will she be satisfied.  But she recognizes an apparent incongruity in him.  What he wants, if he has to have it quickly, demands murder.  He knows this, it does not alter his desire, but he would prefer to have the result without doing what is necessary to achieve it.  When she says he's “too full of the milk of human kindness” she doesn't mean tenderhearted or sentimental, there being nothing in the play to indicate that he is, but rather a commonplace morality, nothing unusual but average, typical of the masses.  But since there is nothing average or typical about Macbeth's abilities or desires it is totally inconsistent.

She is not an ogress, an ultra-harridan or a mindless murderess.  In her mind the murder of Duncan is justified, necessary and purposeful and never an unnatural act.  She is well aware that they live in a barbarous age and that killing is more the norm than the exception.  She never for a moment tries to convince Macbeth to go against his desires but to recognize the truth within himself — a truth that he has made vividly clear over the past year.  If she had any doubts she would immediately desist.  She can live without the crown but she knows that he cannot.

The pivotal scene between them comes right after the murder of Duncan.  She is alarmed and bewildered by his response.  Her faith and confidence in him are shaken for the first time.  It is not the horror of taking the blood from Duncan's wounds that most alarms or disjoints her but the state of mind she is in when she does it; confused, bewildered and shocked by his behavior.  This makes her much more vulnerable to what she sees and does.  The apparent change in him, the change in her perception of him and the change in their relationship all begins here.  It is the beginning of what will be a living death for both of them.

The sleepwalking scene is a microcosm of their relationship after the assassination.  The blood, the stain, is in her mind, not on her hands.  It is not the stain or the blood or the deed that destroys her but the stain of his constant reminders, his paranoia and total isolation (and therefore hers).  She is overcome by his sleeplessness, nightmares and the fears that she must always live with.  Throughout the nightmare she pleads with him to desist.  She has constantly tried to reassure him.  It is not what she says but the agony of having repeated it over and over to no avail that has caused her havoc and desperation.  Like her husband, there is never a word from her of repentance or remorse — neither in this scene nor anywhere else. Regret, yes.  But only because of results she never anticipated.  Ultimately it is his response to the murder that brings about her downfall. 

King Duncan is a sweet, gentle soul who is also the ultimate politician.  Since he has been king for many years, he well knows how to achieve his ends through charm, guile, cleverness and incentive.  He has no compunctions about making Malcolm king though he knows he's totally unqualified.  He knows he has only a short time to live and he is determined that Malcolm will be his successor.  

When the play opens Macbeth is the most revered man in the country. Duncan knows that the army and its leaders worship Macbeth and that if there were a free election, he would be the next king.  He realizes he must placate Macbeth and Banquo so they will pose no threat to Malcolm.  He must give Macbeth great rewards and entice him with still greater reward to come, everything a man could wish for except the throne, and then suddenly, in the midst of this, announce Malcolm as his successor.  A typical politician.

In Malcolm, the critics say, we have the ultimate savior of Scotland.  The rightful king, the man who, after defeating Macbeth, will put everything right.  It’s axiomatic, they assure us; Malcolm will make a good king. Anyone 1iving in the real world however would be apt to find this absurd.  The boy has absolutely no qualifications for being king beyond his father's nepotism.  The country has been rocked by a foreign invader and internal rebellions.  Why would Malcolm be able to hold the country together? And what of his courage?  Immediately after Duncan's murder he runs away, his only thought of his personal safety.  If he wants to be king, he should stay and fight for the kingship.  But no. He does what so many have done throughout history; he flees in fear (although there is a majority that would back him} and he leaves a vacuum that — as always — will be filled by a tyrant.  While his country is being raped and mutilated, he lives in safety in a foreign country trying to raise a foreign army.  How reassuring this is for those trapped within the country fighting for their very lives and desperately in need of someone to rally behind.  The rightful king?  A savior?  Hardly.

There is nothing noble or virtuous about Banquo.  He greedily absorbs the prophecies of the sisters. After the murder he would certainly suspect Macbeth yet utters not a word of his suspicion.  After Macbeth is crowned, he states unequivocally that he is aware of his guilt.  He is a compromising, shrewd, patient, pragmatic self-server.  On the day of his death, we discover that he is part of Macbeth’s royal council.  He is in the upper echelon of this brutal dictatorship.  He is perfectly content to wait until his son becomes king. And in the meantime — what of the murder and torture that is taking place in his country?  In his one soliloquy there is not a word about it.  All he speaks of is his awareness of Macbeth's regicide and his own salivating anticipation of future power.  Ultimately, he gets everything he deserves.

Ross, like Banquo, is the ultimate pragmatist.  He is always loyal to his leader — whoever that leader is and regard1ess of what he represents.  He believes that power and authority by its very nature (regardless of how base that nature may be) demands and should always receive respect, obedience and loyalty.  He epitomizes those who throughout history have served and obeyed, unquestioningly.  But let him detect that the present power is crumbling and his unfailing scent will lead him to the next power. He is not mean or vicious and after every atrocious reign his wail is always the same, “I was only following orders”.  

The two murderers, like all enforcers who carry out the orders of a dictator, have an incredible potential for bestiality as yet untapped.  But once they taste blood, they savor it.

Macduff is one who epitomizes that fervent strain of nationalism that has caused so much death and destruction throughout history.  He speaks of his country as though it were his beloved mother.  He is one so self-righteous, so filled with the obviousness of his own purity, that having left his family, knowing that if he fails to persuade Malcolm to return to Scotland he will most likely never see them again, he nevertheless is willing to throw it all away within minutes because Malcolm reasonably dares to question his motives.  It must be said that he, unlike the others, never acquiesces to Macbeth. However, those who would excuse his leaving his family on the theory that he would assume Macbeth would never kill them are missing what he says to Malcolm; “… not in the legions of horrid hell can come a devil more damned in evils to top Macbeth”.

Assuming he believes this, why would he think his family safe from such a man, ignorant though they may be of what's happening?  And why is it that Macduff learns nothing from the slaughter of his family?  He blames himself for being the cause of their deaths but never questions his reason for leaving them.  In both instances the cause is the same — his monomania, his fervid nationalism. Through Macduff, Shakespeare illustrates beautifully the inherent sickness and danger of nationalism and how it blinds one to all objective reasoning.

And finally, what do we make of the weird sisters?  In Shakespeare's time there were many who believed in ‘witches’ who could communicate with the devil.  Frighteningly, there are many today who have similar beliefs that go by other names.  The word for all of it is mysticism.  King James himself was an avid believer and wrote an ‘in-depth’ book on demonology.  It should be clear to any serious student of Shakespeare's works that he believed none of it.  Quite the contrary.

The sisters are human beings with human limitations.  They are highly perceptive and, 1 believe, semi-retarded.  Like some mentally retarded people they have a certain acute but subjective understanding of personalities, events and atmospheres.  Their conviction, focus and drive are all-consuming.  They have a remarkable ability to create a space or environment in which people can be themselves.

But they never dictate or determine anything.  What is expressed in their presence is the psychological result of certain events upon a particular personality.  It is the overflowing of a subconscious stream that demands conscious expression.  The determining factor is never what they say but how it is perceived and utilized.

At the opening of the play Macbeth's prowess on the battlefield is not merely exemplary but inordinate, beyond what appears human. The wounded sergeant is aware of it and so are many others, among them the sisters. But they perceive its real meaning.  Every blow is a blow for power.  I should be king.  I must be king.  I will be king.  His thoughts of murder are not initiated by the appearance of the sisters. They are never the cause but merely the result.

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