The final scene of the first act takes place while the welcoming banquet is in progress. Film versions of the play often establish by “cross-cutting” or “montage” a sense of simultaneous conviviality and plotting. Certainly, by some staging device, the hypocrisy of 1.6 should be theatrically intensified and enforced. For example, in Polanski’s film, we see against the deep foreground shadows of the conniving lord and lady glimpses of golden light in the background and hear shouts of merriment; and as Polanski’s young and lovely Lady Macbeth (Francesca Annis) almost weeps with scornful, childish impatience, the shadow of the holy cross on Duncan’s crown falls across her face. The scene begins with Macbeth’s agonized soliloquy of indecision, his first extended monologue in the play. Its mood contrasts sharply with Lady Macbeth’s own determined soliloquies in 1.5 and with her immediately preceding glib welcome of the King. Macbeth, in a tortuous conditional syntax (“if,” “would,” “might,” “but”) that reveals both his desire for action and his need to evaluate, acknowledges that the murder of the King will have heinous consequences and that Duncan is at Inverness “in double trust,” as their kinsman and their monarch. Moreover, Duncan has behaved so admirably that angels and cherubims must in a just universe avenge his murder and “blow the horrid deed in every eye, | That tears shall drown the wind” (16-25). Only ambition, he admits, “vaulting ambition,” spurs Macbeth on, and such desire, like a horse gone mad and riderless, must cause a fall. Lady Macbeth’s entrance (at line 28) interrupts his analysis; indeed, her function (or in the language of acting schools, her “intention”) in this scene is to short- circuit his process of evaluation. We know already (from 1.5) that she fears his “nature”: Thou wouldst be great, Art not without ambition, but without The illness should attend it. What thou wouldst highly, That wouldst thou holily; wouldst not play false, And yet wouldst wrongly win. (1.5.16-20) Now with frantic energy she sets out to save the “enterprise” with a daunting mixture of ridicule and pleading: you promised; you don’t love me! are you afraid? are you a man? I have the guts; we won’t fail if you are courageous; and I have a plan. No other act of temptation and goading has ever seemed so comprehensive and disorienting (though its ultimate reference for Shakespeare’s Christian audience is surely the “first fall“ of Eve and her destructive traducing of Adam). Its horrifying culmination comes in her own unanswerable boast of determination: I have given suck, and know How tender ’tis to love the babe that milks me: I would, while it was smiling in my face, Have plucked my nipple from his boneless gums, And dashed the brains out, had I so sworn as you Have done to this. (54-59) Lady Macbeth’s terrible boast simultaneously assures that the deed will be done – who could resist such ferocious bargaining – and that the point of the deed – the establishment of a royal dynasty – will be murderously futile. In other words, by her language, she both constructs and destroys her house and future. In this most horrifying instance of her inability to see beyond desire to consequence, she achieves the immediate and disengenders the future. Macbeth’s reply is feeble and breathless – “If we should fail?” No longer is the issue morality but only probability! And her answer and its manner always intrigue me – a moment I watch and listen for very carefully: Is her brusque two word reply, “We fail,” said incredulously? And if so, is this then a Lady Macbeth who cannot imagine failure – or consequence? Or might she say it scornfully, dismissively! A Lady Macbeth who finally, violently does not care – whatever the consequences, we must act now! Two very different Lady Macbeths – among many different possibilities and nuances – await an audience; a director and actor must plan and decide, and follow the fallout. By the scene’s end, Macbeth is “settled” on murder. Laurence Olivier, probably the most famous Shakespearean actor and most noted Macbeth of our century, said this about the psycho-dynamics of the relationship between the Macbeths: Macbeth is a domestic tragedy. You must understand and perceive that Macbeth knows at once, the minute he sees the first witch he knows what’s going to happen. The interesting part of the play is that the man has imagination and the woman has none. The man sees it all, she does not. That’s what gives her the enormous courage to plot the whole thing, force him into it, persuade him, cajole him, bully him, tease him into it. And he allows himself gradually, bit by bit, to be teased into it. But he knows the answer, he knows the result, and she doesn’t. It’s the passage of two people, one going up and one going down. And there comes a moment in the play when he looks at her and he realizes that she can’t take it any more, and he goes on and she goes down. And thus the introductory act, the act of trapping and planning, comes to an ominous end. Violence awaits us. d Voyager ≠Palex ≠ÆVoyager Æ Palex Palex Palex Voyager "Palex "&Voyager &=Palex =>Voyager >dPalex deVoyager ehPalex hiPalex ipPalex pqPalex qÇPalex ÇÉPalex ÉåPalex åçPalex çîPalex îïPalex ïùPalex ùûVoyager û–Palex –—Voyager —ÓPalex ÓÔVoyager Ô˚Palex ˚¸Voyager ¸˛Palex ˛ˇVoyager ˇÈPalex ȈPalex ˆ
