Lady Macbeth from Macbeth
The Year of the Villainess is nearly over, though I still have plenty of candidates left to chose from. The Wicked Witch of the West, Cruella de Ville, Annie Wilkes, Nurse Ratched, Delilah, the White Witch, Agatha Trunchball, Morgana le Fay, Amy Dunne, the Marquise de Merteuil… the list goes on.
But I wanted to end on a strong note, so who better to showcase than Lady Macbeth (no first name given), who is undoubtedly Shakespeare’s most memorable female villain. I mean, who else is there? Goneril and Regan? Tamora? Sycorax, who isn’t even in the play? There really aren’t that many to choose from.
Lady Macbeth obviously embodies traits that Shakespeare’s contemporary audience would have considered “ungodly” in a woman: not only her ambition to become Queen of Scotland by committing regicide, but her expert “wiles” that goad Macbeth into doing the deed in the first place. Like Eve and the serpent combined, Lady Macbeth is a danger to her husband precisely because of her skill at manipulation, knowing exactly what to say and do in order to get him to act.
That womanhood and weakness are considered intertwined is apparent when Lady Macbeth first learns of the opportunity that lies before her husband, and so in order to rid herself of any femininity that might hinder her capacity for murder, she gives her most chilling monologue: “Come, you spirits, that tend on mortal thoughts! Unsex me here, and fill me from the crown to the toe top full of direst cruelty; make thick my blood, stop up the access and passage to remorse, that no compunctious visitings of nature shake my fell purpose.”
This notion has always unnerved me; the idea that someone could self-consciously pray for evil to come upon them so that they might have the “courage” to go through with an evil act.
Yet despite all the powers of persuasion she has at her disposal, she’s also an active participant in the murder. She is the one that prepares King Duncan’s bedchamber, ensures that his attendants are inebriated, and makes sure that weapons are in place for her husband to use. Afterwards, she has to hurriedly clean up Macbeth’s mess when he neglects to place the daggers alongside Duncan’s attendants in order to frame them.
Although she also manages to salvage the situation when Macbeth has a vision of the murdered king at a banquet, her own grip on sanity starts to wane, and after her famous “out damned spot,” sleep-walking scene, she drops out of the action entirely. News of her off-screen death is brought to Macbeth only a few minutes before his own.
And yet despite this lacklustre conclusion to her character, it’s a testimony to her impact that she’s one of the most unforgettable parts of the play. I’ve heard it said that every serious stage actress should play Juliet in their youth and Lady Macbeth in their prime, and there’s certainly a line-up of talent when it comes to those that’ve taken on the role: Vivien Leigh, Isuzu Yamada, Judi Dench, Helen McCrory, Keeley Hawes, Alex Kingston, Marion Cotillard, Frances McDormand, Tabu, Ruth Negga, Saoirse Ronan, Indira Varma and Valene Kane (and those are just the ones I recognize).
I’ll end with a quote from her, which in many ways could be attributed to any and all of the women I’ve written about this year, demonstrating their drive, their tenacity, their cruelty, and their allure: “you shall put this night’s great business into my dispatch, which shall to all our nights and days to come, give solely sovereign sway and masterdom.”