It would seem almost inappropriate to start this discussion without mentioning my undying belief that Macbeth is the finest work in the history of English literature, a contentious but not entirely uncommon belief. William Shakespeare wrote several works that have remained resonant for centuries, many of them being the subject of countless adaptations, whether it be directly interpreting the material, or transposing their themes and general stories to various social and cultural milieux. Needless to say, Macbeth is the one that has lingered with me the most since the first time I encountered it, so the many attempts to bring this tale of greed, arrogance and vengeance to life has always been a source of immense fascination. When it was announced that Joel Coen would be directing an adaptation of the celebrated play (working as a solo director for the first time in his cinematic career, with his brother Ethan choosing not to be involved), expectations were already high – and the presence of Denzel Washington and Frances McDormand in the central roles, playing some of the most arguably iconic characters in The Bard’s repertoire, it reached a near-impossible level of potential, with their version, retitled as The Tragedy of Macbeth, being a project that carried an abundance of promise, and most certainly delivered in all the areas in which one would expect it to, exceeding the limits of what we’ve previously seen done with this material before. Perhaps another adaptation of Macbeth may not have been necessary in theory, but once we witness this experimental reworking of the timeless play, which pays tribute to German Expressionism and gothic horror, it’s rendered entirely redundant, since there is always something of value lingering in the frame, making this inarguably the most compelling version of the play produced in modern years, one that is set to become possibly the definitive voyage into Shakespeare’s harrowing tale of a Scottish king who allows a vague prophecy to blur together with his deep-seated insecurities, to the point of absolute madness.

Attempting to dissect and discuss The Tragedy of Macbeth for its themes appears pointless – outside of Hamlet and The Holy Bible, it would seem that no other text has been subjected to as much criticism, analysis and scrutiny as this one, especially considering the themes are timeless, with the story of a man gradually allowing his desire for power and influence being a resonant topic in a world that is driven by political and economic desire, which has often made Macbeth seem less like a work of theatrical conjecture, and more a cautionary tale for anyone who aspires to have some influence. We’ve seen so many instances of this story serving as the foundation for even the most modern texts, which often take their cue from the cutthroat world that Shakespeare creates from the legend of Mac Bethad mac Findláich, the real-life Scottish nobleman and later monarch who inspired the story, albeit only loosely (as was often the case for The Bard’s work, which took many artistic liberties). Smartly, The Tragedy of Macbeth is a much more complex journey into the text, not necessarily aiming to draw parallels between the antiquity in which the story is set and the modern world, which certainly has more similarities than many would initially realize. Instead, it is aiming to be an experimental reconfiguration of its primary themes, one that keeps the language and general setting relatively intact, refusing to even attempt to challenge this sacrosanct text that has remained incredibly potent over the centuries (while simplifying both the language and the cultural details, not for the sake of accessibility, but rather for reasons that will be momentarily discussed), while bringing these ideas to the current century, not in setting, but rather in spirit, casting major actors in roles that have become a rite of passage for many performers on stage and screen, and allowing them to occupy this blood-curdling world that truly defines the “tragedy” referenced in the title, elevating this material far beyond the confines of where we’ve previously seen it taken before, and where Coen introduces us to a bleak, wintery visual landscape that directly reflects the discordant version of the world in which Macbeth takes place.

Many have referred to the fact that Orson Welles (undeniably one of the most celebrated Shakespearean scholars of both stage and screen) took a similar approach in his 1948 adaptation of Macbeth – and while Coen can’t entirely attest to pioneering the idea of presenting this story through the lens of an ode to German Expressionism, he does use Welles’ version as a starting point, as well as many other adaptations. The Tragedy of Macbeth is the logical convergence of a centuries-long love affair between artists across every conceivable medium, and a story that has remained relevant and timely for over 400 years. They extract several fascinating elements, not only from prior adaptations, but from a range of artistic movements, which creates a distinct and unforgettable cinematic landscape from which Coen is able to create a very particular vision of the world. Filmed mainly on soundstages, the film replicates the German Expressionist movement, both in the use of space, whereby the cinematography (handled by a maestro of the craft, Bruno Delbonnel) works with the limited spaces and renders them both restrictive and sprawling, and in the atmosphere it evokes, with the gloomy undertones highlighting the darker aspects of the story. The Tragedy of Macbeth is an exceptionally simple film, and in hearkening back to a previous era of filmmaking, where space told as much of a story as the actual plot and its characters, Coen constructs an uncanny version of the world, where the familiar is made to appear entirely unrecognizable, the feeling of entrapment creating the same sense of paranoia in the viewer as the neuroses that cause the titular character to gradually lose his grip on reality – and there seems to be few better ways to showcase his descent into insanity by forcing us to question our own ability to judge between delusion and reality, which is a central conversation that many adaptations of this text fail to fully explore, since there is an emphasis more on the violent conflict, rather than the psychological torment endured by the main character, which is rectified consistently throughout this version, which reflects Macbeth’s declining mental state in the disconcerting depiction of his environment, which is as bleak and arid as his own mind.

Everything that adds value to this interpretation of the story comes down to the performances given by Denzel Washington and Frances McDormand, who leap into these roles and add their incredible talents to some of the most iconic literary creations in the history of the culture. Weaving these world-renowned actors with a range of lesser-known professionals more recognized for their work on stage was an inspired choice, since not only does it allow the likes of Kathryn Hunter, Bertie Carvel and Alex Hassell the chance to have their gifts appreciated by a much wider audience, but they also supplement the performances of the two leads, who are not lacking in professional experience themselves (McDormand having honed the role of Lady Macbeth previously on stage, which is particularly interesting considering how her interpretation is based on the concept of squandered motherhood, a conversation that would be remarkably disingenuous had a young actress occupied the role). It’s tempting to look at The Tragedy of Macbeth as a showcase for the marquee names that undoubtedly draw audiences towards the film, but Coen has ensured that this was a collective experience, a chance for actors from a range of backgrounds to take on these iconic characters, and deliver some of their best work, which is true of both Washington and McDormand, who are fully committed to bringing these characters to life. Yet, our eyes are constantly fixated on those in the periphery – calling The Tragedy of Macbeth a breakthrough for Kathryn Hunter seems inappropriate, since she has been developing her craft on stage for years, becoming one of the current age’s most respected exponent’s of The Bard’s work. Yet, this will likely serve as an introduction for many viewers, who will doubtlessly be both repulsed and beguiled by Hunter’s peculiar interpretation of the three witches that serve as the catalyst of the chaos that underlines the film, necessitating this very special mention of an actress who makes the most out of only a few scenes. Not a single actor in The Tragedy of Macbeth is poorly-cast, and each one plays a pivotal role in the construction of the film, making this a truly communal exercise on the part of the director and his ensemble.

One of the challenges that come with adapting any older work, particularly one as historically cherished as Shakespeare’s plays, is that there is always a level of expectation that will be simply impossible to reach without a laborious amount of effort. In choosing to make The Tragedy of Macbeth, Coen had the challenge of not only having to convince us that his version was essential, but that it existed in dialogue with other works, whether it be direct adaptations or pieces that reflect the central themes in one way or another. Here, we see him using the technical elements of the story to manipulate genre, taking an almost playful approach to the story, presenting it as less of a straightforward historical epic, and more a living, breathing work of art. The Tragedy of Macbeth feels like one of the more engaging versions of the story, solely because it is rarely content to follow one line of reasoning – it is darkly comedic at some parts, while deeply harrowing at others, genre blurring together in the effort to actively redefine what this ancient text means, bringing it to the modern age without necessarily changing the historical elements. It’s undeniably an approach that could have easily have failed, especially since there is a genuine sense of peculiarity that can sometimes be mistaken for haughtiness. Yet, in all the areas we would expect it to succeed, it absolutely does, with the general sense that the director and his cast, who worked together in close collaboration to craft this film (The Tragedy of Macbeth is as much Coen’s vision as it is that of McDormand, Washington and Hunter, each one of them given free-reign to interpret the characters in their own way), were driven primarily by the curiosity of seeing whether a bare-boned, unfurnished version of Macbeth would still be as compelling as the lavish, extravagant Shakespearean adaptations that have dominated cinema for decades – and needless to say, when working from a text as brilliant as this, there is very little chance for failure.

To call The Tragedy of Macbeth a great film is a grotesque understatement – this is pure art, condensed into a single coherent narrative, the product of fervent collaboration between kindred souls united under their shared passion and admiration for the original text, but driven by their consistent willingness to push the boundaries of what was done before, blending the past and present in the construction of their own unique and unimpeachably brilliant vision. Both sprawling and intimate (the kind of contradiction only someone as fervently in control of their craft could have convincingly established), the film carries itself with the dignity of knowing that it is paying adequate tribute to the original text, as well as pushing artistic boundaries that may not be unique to this version, but rather encapsulates various elements that have made previous attempts at working through this dense but mystifying classical text so effective. Interestingly, The Tragedy of Macbeth is not focused on being wholly original, but instead being an actively engaging analysis of the primary themes, revisiting the text and filtering it through a range of artistic components that ultimately lead to it becoming a beautifully haunting voyage into the heart of the original material, which takes on a new life under the careful guidance of their artists and their unique vision, becoming a vibrant and perplexing film that contains elements of psychological horror and historical thriller, which has never been more potent than it has under Coen’s assured directorial hand. It never lays claim to being the ultimate interpretation, and the viewer should keep this in mind before trying to challenge its level of effectively working with the original material – but the manner in which The Tragedy of Macbeth takes the primary concepts that underpin the story, and carefully pull them apart in a way that is both an adequate tribute to the stage-bound origins of the material and undeniable in how it is profoundly cinematic (by use of the incredibly stunning cinematography), a combination that manifests consistently throughout this masterful effort to breathe new life into an old text, making its ideas dynamic, characters more compelling and story just as thrilling today as they were centuries ago.