Some years ago, when I had the honor of being the theater critic for this journal, it happened that there were two productions of Macbeth in the same week, both of which interested me. So I went to see them both. There was another the next week, and then one in Connecticut, and an interesting semi-professional performance in Queens, and I went to those, too. But I hadn’t lost my appetite for Shakespeare’s shortest tragedy, and so I thought it would be amusing to go see every Macbeth I could get to for the next couple of months. As it turns out, there are a lot of Macbeths going on at any given time—and, eventually, more Macbeths than your typical obsessive-compulsive theater critic has friends to go see Macbeth with him. (My advice: go alone.) Over the next couple of years, I saw more productions of the play than I can count or remember, from scrappy little productions in church lofts to Alan Cumming’s one-man...

 

A Message from the Editors

Since 1982, The New Criterion has nurtured and safeguarded our delicate cultural inheritance. Join our family of supporters and secure the future of civilization.

Popular Right Now