Shot in 23 days on a shoestring budget at the cheapjack Republic Pictures, Orson Welles’ “Macbeth” was poorly received by American critics and audiences when it first came out in 1948 and again in 1950 when its compact 107-minute running time was edited by about a half-hour and the Scottish burr used by the actors was redubbed into accent-free English. Even today, Welles’ original vision doesn’t carry the same level of respect that his later Shakespearean films “Othello” (1952) and “Chimes at Midnight” (1966) enjoy.
Yet “Macbeth” is perhaps the most intriguing of Welles’ Shakespearean ventures. The filmmaker used his budgetary and scheduling limitations to turn Macbeth’s Scotland into a feral landscape devoid of sunlight. Fog and shadow create an abstract netherworld, while the massive set used for Macbeth’s castle has a Stonehenge quality that suggests its inhabitants have yet to cut their acquaintance to the pagan primitivism of pre-Christian Scotland.
Critics in 1948 complained about Welles’ heavy editing of the Shakespeare text, with scenes rearranged and reconfigured – including the placement of the Three Witches at the end of story watching their prophecy play out from a distance – and the new character of a priest created from lines snagged from other characters. But there is no rule that Shakespeare cannot be freely adapted from the theatrical medium to meet the specific needs of a film production, and the carping about taking artistic liberty was also aimed at Laurence Olivier’s “Hamlet,” released the same year to greater fanfare than Welles’ “Macbeth.”
Much of the imagery in “Macbeth” is unsettling, particularly the beginning when the Three Witches – their faces obscured in shadow and framed by unkempt stalks of white hair – perform their “bubble, bubble, toil and trouble” chant over a cauldron of bubbling muddy liquid where they bring forth a large clay figurine that will symbolize Macbeth. Later in the film, the Three Witches’ prophecy of Birnam Wood coming to Dunsinane is depicted in an eerie slow-motion, with thick fog lacing its way through the troops who slow advance while hiding behind chopped trees. In many ways, the real star of “Macbeth” is cinematographer John L. Russell, whose vivid Expressionist camerawork unveiled a talent that would strangely not truly be challenged again until 1960 when another great filmmaker tapped him for another low-budget gem – Alfred Hitchcock and “Psycho.”
“Macbeth” is not without its peculiarities, particularly the headwear that seems to run the gamut from Tartar to Viking to just plain strange (the notorious square crown worn when Macbeth is coronated). And while Welles dominates the cast in a boldly externalized interpretation of Macbeth’s descent into self-destructiveness, Jeanette Nolan – a radio actress in her first film – never quite catches the malevolent power of Lady Macbeth’s homicidal manipulation or the tortured guilt that belatedly drives her into madness and suicide. Still, Welles and Nolan offer a remarkable acting feat in a daring 10-minute unbroken take when their characters plot the murder of King Duncan amid an impending storm. This sequence ranks among Welles’ finest work for technical and dramatic genius.