Istvan Dugalin ➤

Eric Woolfe as the three weird sisters in “MacBeth: A Tale Told by an Idiot”

With re-imaginings of classic creepy tales and trope-y genre mashups, Eric Woolfe has established himself as charismatic charlatan extraordinaire, hawking his gruesome wares. From behind a giant cauldron, tucked into his macabre booth of ghastly knick-knacks, he plays the titular role—and all the others!—in a truncated, solo, freak magic show retelling of one of Shakespeare’s most popular—and bloody!—tragedies; this is MacBeth: A Tale Told by an Idiot.

His metallic, bloodied head is a grisly suggestion that this brave Scottish general has endured some fierce violence, but his overall appearance suggests a carnival barker. He encounters the three “weird sisters”—very Lovecraftian here with their triple-eyed, toady faces stacked upon each other. Their cryptic prophecy seems to promise invincibility as he becomes king, but which, in retrospect, only foreshadow his tragic end.

From there, ambition, cruelty and guilt-ridden madness lead to much bloody murder and some self-harm. This is MacBeth, you know MacBeth; if you don’t, this isn’t a good primer. Woolfe isn’t just telling the story, he’s also lamp-shading iconic moments, spoofing the form, and fully trusting that we’re all in on the joke.

With generous heaps of red fabric gore, bloodshot googly-eyed blobbies, teddy bears with eye-patches and a host of other ghoulish Muppet-y oddballs—the giddy, persuasive atmosphere is abundant. MacBeth’s stupid little felt crown atop a bloodied scalp made me giggle. Set and costume designer Melanie McNeill excels at cartoonish Grand Guignol spectacle; the hanging doll-baby corpses here are an especially eerie bit of scenic punctuation.

Amidst all the disarmingly goofy puppets, Lady MacBeth is a striking outlier. The more merciless of the duo, her portrayal here is the most uncomfortably representational. She pulls us right into the uncanny valley with a mannequin-like appearance that reminded me of Shaye Saint John—a surrealist, grotesque persona created by Eric Fournier and featured in a series of truly unnerving videos.

Woolfe’s brand of schlocky showmanship with its camp pageantry is enhanced by the intimacy of the venue. The bombastic music queues and Looney Tunes pratfall stings are immersive and hilarious, but Woolfe and director Dylan Trowbridge allow a genuine sincerity to creep in at crucial moments.

In particular, I found MacBeth’s “tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow” soliloquy subtly emotive and haunting. Woolfe delivers this with a distinctly offhand gravitas that really hits on the melancholy of that moment, capturing the awful paradox—that life’s relentless march toward’s death is simultaneously tedious and fleeting.

Shout out to Gareth Crew’s restrained yet dynamic lighting, which really does transform the tiny environment with its macabre clutter without drawing attention to itself.

The final image—MacBeth’s goofy yet treacherous head on a spike—is as chilling as it is silly. Eldtrich Theatre has charmed me once again with their whimsically creepy shenanigans.

MacBeth: A Tale Told by an Idiot
running February 8 to 24, 2024
Red Sandcastle Theatre (922 Queen Street E.)
running time: 90 minutes (no intermission)

Eric Woolfe with Lady MacBeth in “MacBeth: A Tale Told by an Idiot”