Beautifully written Shakespearean herstory could have been weirder.
The Weyard Sisters at Riverside Studios is framed by Dana Pinto’s effective set design of several evenly spaced ionic columns, marble exclamation marks punctuating a backdrop of grainy white cloth – though the columns could be doric, I can never quite remember which is which. Or should I say, witch is witch? (No, no I shouldn’t). Director and Playwright Helen Alexander weaves infinitely better wordplay throughout her darkly funny, female-centric sequel to Shakespeare’s Macbeth, verbally referred to as the Scottish play within the industry in keeping with time-honoured superstition. This ‘definitive sequel’ centres around the ‘weyard’, or weird, sisters in the original script, with an excellent bit of etymology spelled out in the programme:
‘Although most modern editions of Macbeth have generally regularised the “sisters” description of themselves to “weird” (meaning peculiar), in the First Folio this word is three times spelt “weyword”, three times “weyard” (meaning wayward). But weirder still, is the fact that the word “weird” appears to only have evolved in the English Language during the mid-17th century, and perhaps came into existence because of a play which never printed it!’
The production succeeds in flaunting a delicious command of Shakespeare’s tongue and a true talent for constructing the hidden herstories of the text. Agatha (Mother to England’s crown prince Edgar)’s daughter Margaret’s disdain for the volatile, camo-clad Malcolm who has seized the throne mirrors that of all the play’s women for the men whose wars and whims dictate their lives. ‘Weird and bearded’ sisters Erlynn, Marlin and Portia stand hairs on end as they swirl and creep around their captive in the opening scene, sporting roughly hewn, bone-hued masks with piercing noses and stretching woollen chin hair tickling their hapless captive. Portia provides some highly entertaining exposition in the context of her worldly role as Brewstress with the gift of the gab, revealing an unpaid debt racked up by Malcolm when they were children in Inverness, soon to take on an historical significance. ‘Woe betide a wise woman who chooses not to see’, a later confined Portia laughs knowingly to herself, fated to face the brutality of Macduff’s interrogation. The tragedy and cruel injustice of witch hunting practices in the UK makes for a potent brew, with the dialogue of Dr John Stearne, assistant to mid-17th century Witchfinder General Matthew Hopkins, based on his original explanation for witchcraft and its ‘remedies’.
The acting is exceptional from the entire cast, with stand-out performances from Jan Shephard (Portia), Claire Morrissey (Agatha, Pedrolino, Peg Speed) and Kiera Murray (Margaret, Beulah, Nancy Gance, Sister Joan, Il Capitano, Meg). Each displayed an impressive command of the audience, and a captivating presence on stage. However, the feel of the production is somehow dismayingly static, with exposition favoured over action, the script and intricate plot overly dense, to the point that myself and my companion often struggled to grasp in which directions the abstracted events were moving. There was much telling, and less showing, to the production’s detriment. Such beautiful language and exciting values in interpreting Shakespeare’s text needed some more room to breathe, and perhaps imbued with a higher degree of looseness and strangeness – the play claims to focus on the weird witchery of the sisters after all. I’m a fool for all things witchety and was hoping for more weirdness to boot, so I came away a little disappointed in these respects.
The play takes off when it embraces its theatricality, particularly towards the end of the second act when the device of a medieval travelling troupe of players enters into the mix. A heady confusion and skewering of contemporary values, a topsy-turvy world glimpsed at and danced with is the exact dose of canny distortion the tale needs. Claire Morrissey is again jaw-droppingly good in her embodying of an ethereal mime, lingering a little longer in the ‘real-time’ world of the play after their scene is done with the effect of an unctuous, psychedelic blurring of worlds, a reluctance to cut the strings connecting them. Fun is had with a chronological leap to modern Scotland and a television crew hovering over an archaeological dig like the portentous crows above them. Perhaps a switching between these time periods throughout the production would have benefited from its lively effect of opening a spine-chilling window into history.
I’d recommend The Weyard Sisters for true Shakespeare fiends, and my head is still reeling with the beautiful twists and turns of its words – a strong claim is made for its being Macbeth’s definitive sequel. However, original productions aimed for appealing to the sensibilities of their contemporary audiences, with lively theatrical action and often slapstick-style movement entertaining the masses. In the context of a 21st century world well versed in interpretations of witchcraft and its scope for the exploration of female power and solidarity, the play so titled demanded a deeper leaning into the uncanny, the unknown, the dark and divine feminine, and a rallying call to get weirder, sisters.