Macbeth (2015): Every Frame a Painting

I was first introduced to Shakespeare's Macbeth by one particularly brooding chapter of Story of the World, a truly excellent history curriculum I would recommend to anyone with either a love for the subject or a desperate need to pass a class. From day one, I was hooked by this tragic tale of betrayal, though I initially confused both this story and Hamlet with each other for some time. The tragedy hooked me. The betrayal hooked me. The seemingly all-corrupting iniquity hooked me. Macbeth is not a story for the faint-hearted, and it remains that way through the eyes and from the hands of Justin Kurzel, director of one 2015 adaptation of the tragedy. Murder is no minor consideration, even and especially if it was murder to take the throne. Guilt is a funny thing, too. It can destroy us, but it can also save us. Macbeth, a general of the armies of Scotland, is being torn apart by guilt over the murder of King Duncan at the hands of he and his wife, Lady Macbeth. Nevertheless, he's too power-hungry to stand down from his horrific misdeeds, even as he digs himself deeper and deeper into a hole, and it becomes increasingly apparent the longer he digs that this is a hole he will probably never climb out of. Believe it or not, I've just described the entire movie for you. Macbeth is not particularly complicated. It works more as a showcase of cinematography than anything else and merely uses a Shakespeare classic as a canvas. Still, the skill of the painter is nothing short of respectful.

I could frame every last image in this movie on my wall, and you wouldn't blink twice when you walked into my house. The cinematography of Macbeth is elite, some of the best camera work I've ever seen. It's an earthy and beautifully shadowy spectacle that reminds me of both Robert Eggers's filmography and the similarly organic vision of Ridley Scott's Alien: Covenant. To call it anything less than a masterpiece would be a grave disservice. The vision of cinematographer Adam Arkapaw is both muted and eye-catching in ways that aren't too unlike a violent, brutal, yet beautiful dream; understated in the right ways and yet dazzling in all others. The casting of this film is almost as strong, with Marion Cotillard's Lady Macbeth being the finest of the lot, an unsettling portrayal of a woman with more than a couple of screws loose. Cotillard's acting is a more classical version of her work as Mal in Inception, her almost-silent recitation of the infamous out, damned spot startling. Macbeth is an incredibly uneasy movie to watch, and whenever Lady Macbeth is present, it becomes hard to tell whether the brooding musical score is for her words or her words for the score.

Speaking of words, the dialogue of this movie is extremely classical, much of it being lifted directly from the play. Thee and thou is the name of the game. I feel torn over this. Macbeth possesses a beautiful air of importance, yet its traditionalism grows tiring. One can only hear so much Shakespearean language before it becomes a self-important chore to listen to. The dreamlike quality of this movie, while an overwhelming audio-visual experience, doesn't do any favors to the borderline-cryptic dialogue. I can easily see someone unfamiliar with the story of Macbeth getting lost in the lingo. As for the tone of this movie, it's both violent and yet strangely holy at once. The weird thing is that it works more often than it doesn't. Watching this movie isn't too unlike solemnly unearthing an old artifact, a far cry from the consume-and-dispose sugar rushes we're used to in modern cinema. It's like walking through a dream - sometimes a nightmare - and marvelous if inflexible. The dream plays one ominous note repeatedly when it would have benefited from being something other than dour for even a brief moment. Macbeth is a serious movie, but that doesn't make it deep. No amount of frills can hide its simplistic nature, and while I understand that it's limited by four-hundred-year-old source material, it often falls victim to style over substance, though it's not lost on me that the style is the real selling point.

Macbeth runs at a little less than two hours long, and an extra half hour would have done more to better illustrate his descent into his darker instincts. Nevertheless, you'll feel every minute of this movie. Its fundamentally contemplative nature makes for slow, methodical viewing, and I hope you'll be patient. It does some things exceptionally well, even if its strengths lie mainly with its stylistic and tonal pursuits. It's a medieval drama that paints with a finer brush than most before resorting to smashing things with a hammer. Artistically, it's careful. Thematically, it's anything but. The whiplash can be brutal. But pure experiences are often like this, no?

In many ways, Macbeth is nothing more than Kurzel and his team proving that they can get an adaptation of a classic story made in today's industry. What I mean by that is this. This adaptation brings nothing new to the table and acts very much like an exhibition of what is among the best cinematography I've ever seen. As I imagine you've gathered, that's not all bad. The dark and strangely elegant tone of this movie, though it can become heavy-handed when no other ingredients are stirred in with it, is a brave commitment, and I respect Macbeth for sticking to its guns, though it may become apparent with some time that they all shoot the same way, more or less. This adaptation takes itself extremely seriously, so seriously that it sometimes seems to be ironically less serious than it's trying to be - I'm serious. But its vision remains startlingly unadulterated, its artistic perception of the world and commitment to classic English fascinating. Though I won't lie, it'll take about half an hour to get used to how everyone in this movie talks. However, as tiresome as the dialogue can be, it remains a big part of why I would consider Macbeth a timeless adaptation - not because of some immeasurable grasp of the future, but rather because of a sincere and burning passion for the past.

Macbeth - 7/10

Jeremiah 17:9-11