With a metallic click, the lights on the stage of the Ethel Barrymore Theatre flash on full blast, revealing the hostile sterility of a mental asylum. Alan Cumming, in the main role, stands in the center, flocked by two sets of examining eyes, doctors in blindingly white garb. As they leave the stage, Cumming inquires, “When shall we three meet again?” setting off the classic Shakespearean tale of fate and despair, which ultimately culminates with insanity. Macbeth doth come. For a grueling hour and forty-five minutes with no intermission, Cumming prances violently across the stage, throwing himself into fits that often lead to blood spill and gore, as he recounts the story of the Scottish king, playing all twenty-odd parts.