When Lady Macbeth opens, it appears to be a kind of 12 Years a Slave for the domestic oppression of women during the 19th century; an honest and bleak demonstration of the cruel inhumanity to which women were subjected even within the sacred bond of marriage. Our focal character, Katherine, is a purchased wife in a loveless marriage to a wealthy and much older man. He routinely neglects her and shows her no interest, and when he does give her his attention, it's rarely for the sake of anything but belittling her. Between emotional beatings, we see glimpses of Katherine's quiet defiance and individualism--snickering at or coyly back-talking her husband or his ghoulish father (who also resides in and watches over the house); these hopeful moments make for small victories in an otherwise dour situation. And when her husband leaves on business indefinitely, Katherine finds herself in a passionate and loving affair with one of her husband's farmhands.
But it begins to become apparent, as it reaches its halfway point, that this film has no intention of making a martyr--or even a hero--out of this woman. Katherine's hate for the patriarchs in her life takes root in increasingly more disturbing ways. Over the following near-hour, we see a humble and justified rebellion twist itself into a more sinister thirst for vengeance. Without spoiling the shocking series of events that ensue, it is safe to say that Katherine becomes less and less a hero in anyone's mind but her own.
This story sounds darkly compelling on paper, and there are certainly moments of sickened awe and fearful intrigue as to where Katherine's story could go next, but director William Oldroyd’s incessant deliberation for burning this story with the economy of a wet wick makes the eyes wander toward the clock, even at the film's meager 89-minute runtime. There is an incredible potential for emotional power in a quiet long shot--any patient and experienced director knows and employs this technique from time to time. But any trick can be exploited to exhaustion, and to make an entire movie--particularly one with such a fiery and devilish story--so stagnant and unfeeling, is, in many instances, a disservice to the interests of the film.
On the other hand, the slow and pervasive iciness of the storytelling does lend itself effective in other ways. Similarly to 2015’s The Witch, there is an understated and chilling quality to the actors’ performances. The monstrous, gravelly voice of Katherine's father-in-law (props to Christopher Fairbank) drives home the sad and isolated reality that Katherine lives in. Florence Pugh’s hopeful compassion is as encouraging as her later apathetic selfishness is eerie. And Cosmo Jarvis, who plays Katherine's new lover, Sebastian, provides perhaps the only truly warm-blooded, human performance in the film.
And to Oldroyd’s credit, the film is shot beautifully, even if slowly. The pale color palette and wide symmetrical frames highlight the loneliness and emptiness of Katherine's life when we meet her at the beginning of the story, and the occasional landscape shots of the damp, rolling English countryside are striking in contrast to the interior of the home.
Unfortunately, Lady Macbeth simply can't seem to pick a feeling to convey. Given the nature of the subject, it would seem to be a particularly thoughtful story, but between trying to make the protagonist an effectively loathsome victim-turned-monster, and plodding along at such a monotonous and unexciting pace, Oldroyd ends up with a story in which you like the characters all too little and care about the story all the less. Despite convincing, low-key performances and strikingly simple cinematography, Lady Macbeth just can't quite reach the effectual heights that it's isolated successful moments strive for.
Also, what did it mean? Never mind, I don't really care.
https://youtu.be/2Z0N8ULhuUA&w=585