Hardly twenty minutes had been played when a riot literally went through the hall; Gradually, what felt like a third of the audience left the theater like a procession. That was in 2005: Jürgen Gosch, who has since died, staged Shakespeare’s tragedy “Macbeth” at the Düsseldorfer Schauspielhaus. Reason for the outrage: Seven men on stage hadn’t dressed at all, although the program booklet expressly indicated a “costume design”. Those who stayed had a great evening. Concept theater, but unforgettable.
Sixteen years later, Düsseldorf dares to do it again. Russian director Evgeny Titov counters Gosch’s casual paper crown aesthetic with an old-style drama that has been calculated down to the last detail. Theatrical blood flowed and flows abundantly in both performances, but that is the only thing they have in common. The contrast couldn’t be more stark, and that is perhaps a good thing, because because Gosch’s work went down in theater history, it is and will remain a reference point for any further staging.
Is “Macbeth” a horror piece? Yes and no. It is of course much more than a glimpse into human abysses. Is “Macbeth” a story about a couple? Necessarily. And this is where it gets critical. Titov occupies the title role with the rather juvenile-looking André Kaczmarczyk, while the lady with Manuela Alphons, who is about twice her age, the impressive grande dame of the ensemble. It is not unreasonable to find out, because Titov must have had something in mind. He builds in an oedipal kick. If anyone is on a throne that evening, it’s the lady. Mostly dressed in black, with a white collar at best, she sets the tone. The husband almost ducks away from her. He would like to, after all, the witches outside prophesied a glorious future for him, but actually he would rather not. The lady is adamant.
In a rush of blood: André Kaczmarczyk as Macbeth.
(Photo: Thomas Rabsch)
The hyper-accurate reading Shakespeare researcher and admirer Harold Bloom surprisingly interprets “Macbeth” as a sexual disaster. The two are a happy couple, says Bloom, but something is disturbing this happiness, possibly a sexual inadequacy. The murders as substitute acts? Titov seems to accept this offer and at the same time to turn it upside down. With him, in this pure horror piece, the two main characters are not a couple at all, but something like Mommy and her little son. And Kaczmarczyk plays this son brilliantly.
Before the nocturnal assassination of King Duncan (Rainer Philippi puts him on a bit dumb) Macbeth takes a long bath. He already has the dagger with him, but of course he hesitates. He waits for the lady to step into his bathing suit through the high door and drag him out of the murky water. The illusionistic stage designed by Etienne Pluss shows a castle inside and out, a rugged landscape and a room with cracks running through its walls. Macbeth will murder the king, his guest, in his sleep, which we onlookers do not see; at the next appearance he will wear a posh suit instead of the bath towel and suddenly, as if changed, simulate a seemingly confident host. The mood swings of this man (apparently oppressed by his wife) are what Kaczmarczyk puts down splendidly, to the point of madness or just beyond it.
The witches take on far more responsibility than Shakespeare intended them to be
But Titov also changes the statics of the piece in other places. The witches, played by three female acting students, take on far more responsibility than Shakespeare intended them to be. They not only start ambiguous speeches, no, they take action themselves, for example murder Macbeth’s companion Banquo (Matthias Buss makes a joker of him), are permanently at the scene of the crime, personified horror. If one were ambitious in terms of depth psychology, one would have to ask oneself which image of women Evgeny Titov actually triggers. But the scene in which Banquo’s ghost appears for dinner is fabulously resolved thanks to Kaczmarczyk. The table is bare, there is nobody in the room apart from the witches and the lady, but Macbeth sees a ghost. And because of its power of imagination, we as viewers see it too.
Harold Bloom uses a beautiful formula to speak of “our terrorized sympathy” for the title hero. That is the crucial point: André Kaczmarczyk is not only a gifted actor, but also an appearance who can hardly be deprived of sympathy. The fact that this fact rubs off on the figure of Macbeth and its depth is thanks to the production, sixteen years after Gosch.