Lettura viscerale della tragedia piĂš famosa e affascinante di Shakespeare, quella di un valoroso guerriero e leader carismatico, piantata sul campo di battaglia in mezzo ai paesaggi della Scozia medievale. Macbeth Ă¨ fondamentalmente la storia di un uomo danneggiato dalla guerra che cerca di ricostruire il suo rapporto con l'amata moglie, entrambi alle prese con le forze d'ambizione e desiderio.
Macbeth, a duke of Scotland, receives a prophecy from a trio of witches that one day he will become King of Scotland. Consumed by ambition and spurred to action by his wife, Macbeth murders his king and takes the throne for himself.
Commento critico (a cura di ELISABETTA VILLAGGIO)
Un filmone. Forse non sarĂ apprezzato dal grande pubblico, specialmente per lâuso del linguaggio dellâepoca shakespeariana che lo potrebbe rendere lento in alcune parti ma Macbeth, tratto dallâopera del grande drammaturgo inglese, Ă¨ un film onirico con delle bellissime immagini ricercate e particolari, che racconta della ricerca e poi dellâattaccamento al potere e delle sue conseguenze.
Michael Fassbender Ă¨ Macbeth e Marion Cotillard sua moglie e complice di terribili delitti fatti per arrivare a conquistare il trono. Scenografia e costumi sono molto presenti in questâopera e aggiungono magia, forza e immaginazione a questo film che in alcuni momenti Ă¨ poesia. Ambientato nella Scozia del basso medioevo in momenti di battaglie, lotte, castelli isolati e freddi, la pellicola ci catapulta in un mondo difficile, dove si deve combattere per sopravvivere in una landa desolata che vuole essere conquistata dagli inglesi. Ci sono tanti paesaggi brulli, freddi, ventosi ma affascinanti di una regione
magica che aggiunge mistero alla storia.
Macbeth, un generale scozzese, incontra delle streghe che gli predicono alcuni avvenimenti che gli sarebbero accaduti. A distanza di poco tempo si avvera il primo fatto e cosĂŹ Macbeth, al quale era stato predetto che sarebbe diventato re di Scozia, comincia a crederci, ad accarezzare lâidea finchĂŠ, con la complicitĂ della moglie, che si dimostra altrettanto attratta dal potere e scaltra forse piĂš di lui, decidono di uccidere lâattuale re e loro cugino proprio quando questi era ospite da loro facendo ricadere la colpa sulle guardie. La bramosia perĂ˛ aumenta in Macbeth che impazzisce facendo sĂŹ che la moglie prenda le redini fino a quando morirĂ anchâessa probabilmente suicida.
I paesaggi bui e nebbiosi, i castelli grigi immersi in prati collinosi, le atmosfere rarefatte, le poche persone che abitano quei luoghi selvaggi accrescono la drammaticitĂ dellâopera che Ă¨ tra le piĂš famose di Shakespeare.
Diretto da Justin Kurzel, che cura con molta attenzione le immagini di questo film non facile, Macbeth rivisita una tragedia, tra le piĂš rappresentate, dove lâaviditĂ diventa il sentimento intorno al quale ruota tutta la storia.
Bravi ambedue gli attori protagonisti che interpretano due personaggi negativi, ambigui e complicati.
Secondo commento critico (a cura di GUY LODGE, www.variety.com)
MARION COTILLARD AND MICHAEL FASSBENDER EXCEL IN JUSTIN KURZEL'S THRILLINGLY SAVAGE INTERPRETATION OF THE SCOTTISH PLAY.
As the shortest, sharpest and most stormily violent of William Shakespeareâs tragedies, âMacbethâ may be the most readily cinematic: The swirling mists of the Highlands, tough to fabricate in a theater, practically rise off the printed page. So itâs odd that, while âRomeo and Julietâ and âHamletâ get dusted off at least once a generation by filmmakers, the Scottish Play hasnât enjoyed significant bigscreen treatment since Roman Polanskiâs admirable if tortured 1971 version. The wait for another may be even longer after Justin Kurzelâs scarcely improvable new adaptation: Fearsomely visceral and impeccably performed, itâs a brisk, bracing update, even as it remains exquisitely in period. Though the Bardâs words are handled with care by an ideal ensemble, fronted by Michael Fassbender and a boldly cast Marion Cotillard, itâs the Australian helmerâs fervid
sensory storytelling that makes this a Shakespeare pic for the ages â albeit one surely too savage for the classroom.
No viewer familiar with Kurzelâs blistering 2011 debut, âThe Snowtown Murdersâ â an unflinching true-crime drama that doubled as a rich essay on destructive masculine insecurities â should be too surprised that heâs chosen to enter the mainstream by reviving one of the English languageâs most unforgiving studies in malignant male ego. Meanwhile, any fears that the directorâs poetically severe style might be mollified by the tony demands of traditionally rooted prestige cinema are allayed by the opening reel. As a stark, stonily beautiful shot of an infantâs funeral segues into a combat sequence of bruising, heightened viciousness, it becomes clear that Kurzel, as well as screenwriters Todd Louiso, Michael Lesslie and Jacob Koskoff, have not taken a timid approach to their source material â either at a stylistic or interpretive
What is perhaps most striking about this introduction â the incantations of the Weird Sisters that begin the play have been relocated â is how wordless it is. Adam Arkapawâs camera probes the anguished geography of human faces as they ritualistically prepare for battle or burial: Macbeth himself is first seen as a steaming, heaving, near-alien warrior, his human countenance given up to smeary, demonic war paint.
A carnal battle cry finally breaks the silence; the armies of Macbeth and the traitorous Macdonwald charge and collide in silvery slow-motion, while composer Jed Kurzel (the directorâs brother) amplifies the tribal percussion to nerve-fraying extremes. (As in âSnowtown,â the sound design is set at a needlingly low, industrial hum throughout.) Itâs a technique seemingly made redundant by Zack Snyderâs â300â and its legion of imitators, yet Kurzel plays it more as brutal shadow theater, connoting the dehumanizing effects of mass slaughter without disregarding
the collective cost of death. In visualizing trauma usually left offstage, Kurzel builds vital psychological context for the future King of Scotlandâs bloody path to glory and dishonor.
What is seen, and by whom, emerges as the key consideration of Louiso, Lesslie and Koskoffâs respectfully inventive overhaul of the play. (Louiso, director of the U.S. indies âLove Lizaâ and âHello I Must Be Going,â is hardly an expected name for this assignment, though he and his co-scribes exhibit a keen collective ear for the human nub of Shakespeareâs more expansive verse.) Crucial incidents are here given witnesses that shift the narrative tension, not to mention the balance of moral accountability, in provocative, constructively questionable ways. Young heir to the throne Malcolm (a fine, full-hearted Jack Reynor) catches Macbeth crimson-handed after the murder of King Duncan (David Thewlis), before fleeing in a youthful failure of nerve. Later, in an equivalent, particularly inspired
adjustment, Lady Macbeth is made a witness to the public killing of Lady Macduff (Elizabeth Debicki) and her children; this callous wasting of a family makes a cruel mockery of her failure to create one.
The absence of Macbethâs own heir, obliquely alluded to in Shakespeareâs text, is here made a more explicit point of anxiety for the couple â beginning with the lifeless child of that chill-inducing opening frame. Their joint power lust is made to seem a grievously unhappy displacement therapy for loss; in a play that already doesnât want for uncanny visitations, quiet visions of her offspring return to our heroâs hand-scrubbing Queen at her most disoriented and guilt-ridden.
A plum role for any actress, Lady Macbeth proves an exhilaratingly testing one for Cotillard, whose gifts as both a technician and an emotional conduit apparently know no linguistic barrier. Streaked with unearthly blue eye shadow â Jenny Shircoreâs daring
makeup designs are a constant marvel â and working in a cultivated Anglo-Continental accent that positions the character even more pointedly as a stranger in her own court, Cotillard electrically conveys misdirected sexual magnetism, but also a poignantly defeated sense of decency. Itâs a performance that contains both the womanâs abandoned self and her worst-case incarnation, often in the space of a single scene. Her deathless sleepwalking scene, staged in minimalist fashion under a gauze of snowflakes in a bare chapel, is played with tender, desolate exhaustion; it deserves to be viewed as near-definitive.
If Fassbender is more obviously cast than his leading lady, thatâs not to say his performance is any less considered or intensely textured. Thereâs nary a hint in his interpretation of a man once âfull of the milk of human kindness,â but his nervous unraveling does reveal Macbeth as a gauche, dependent soul, elevated by self-assigned male
privilege. Fassbender may be a grand, seething physical presence, but his vocal delivery is immaculate: As befits a text judiciously edited to evoke a certain tartan terseness, the actor brings an inflamed, animalistic bark even to his most mellifluous monologues.
Kurzel likewise opts for high-impact spareness in the filmâs visual and sonic design. Heâs not afraid of broad symbolism: There may be one austere cross too many in the image system here, but this âMacbethâ does bear a substantial sense of spiritual consequence. Many filmmakers wouldnât be able to pull off the blood-red filter that gradually saturates the screen in its final act, but Kurzel brings the proceedings to a pitch of disorder that makes this extreme stylistic leap seem intuitively inevitable: Itâs as if the camera pre-emptively descends into the galleys of hell with its doomed subject.
Shooting on location in thorniest rural Scotland and England, Arkapawâs work here (supplemented with
additional lensing by Rob Hardy) is remarkable, exposing all the most hostile facets of the regionâs beauty: Its dominant, sickly tones of gorse yellow and hurricane gray are permitted into the interiors of Fiona Crombieâs soaring yet rough-hewn production design. Costumes by Jacqueline Durran, an established master of fusing period authenticity with modern sculptural influence, are breathtaking: The coarse, hessian finish of 11th-century palace finery and battle gear alike are consistently offset by delicately suggestive detailing. Nothing is more effective in this regard than Macbethâs own chunky crown â which, viewed close, resembles either a jagged chain of headstones or an oversized set of extracted baby teeth. In Kurzelâs thrillingly elemental new adaptation, death is a most literal burden to bear.
Perle di sceneggiatura
Nota: Si ringraziano Videa CDE, lo Studio PUNTO&VIRGOLA e Samanta Dalla Longa (QuattroZeroQuattro)