Shakespeare in Cambridge is a theatre staple. With no rights to pay it is to the drama bubble what chips are to the English stomach – cheap and popular. Rather like chips without condiments, the Scottish play is decidedly difficult to pull off without dollops of dedication.

Upon entry, I was immediately assaulted by deafening and dramatic music, ironically contrasted by the dazzling halogen lighting in a theatre so new you could smell the glue drying.  Sound and lighting posed problems throughout. I heard absolutely nothing that was said in the second and third scenes due to the violent rain encapsulating us. No imagination was employed with the lighting, in most scenes the stars’ fires were so bright, it was hardly surprising Macbeth failed to hide his black and deep desires.

The set was shabby, the exposed duck tape on the red material upstage destroying the doom it was intended to convey. The costume and make-up decisions proved no better, but were certainly more entertaining. Duncan’s paper crown, a gaggle of secretaries, and characters from The Rocky Horror Picture Show all graced the stage. White faces and black eyes were inconsistently applied inexplicably on some characters, including Macduff the emo teen.

The blatant problem with the production was its lack of direction. All three directors also starred in the play, including Ben Blyth as Macbeth. This was a shame, as a healthy dose of objective criticism would have helped many of the actors to better fulfil their potential. Holly Olivia Braine’s Lady Macbeth was certainly engaging and she clearly possesses a natural knack for physicality.  Nonetheless, I felt I was sitting in on her admirable audition pieces, and not polished works of drama. A lack of commitment to blocking plagued most of the play save in the case of the witches, who truly shone. Writhing, tumbling, and meowing like cats one minute, and gnashing on a corpse like hyenas the next, they fully succeeded in creeping-out the audience. The most effective and creative directorial decision came in their scene at the start of the fourth act, when the prophecies were delivered by dunking Macbeth’s head in a bucket of blood.

Although the show felt a bit like a play in a teen flick set in a high school, it was obvious that those onstage were having fun. A refreshing amateur production that didn’t take itself very seriously, Macbeth was awesomely bad. By Laura Andrews