The men who would be king

series on 'The Best of

Scotland'. The theme

will be continued

intermittently in

Weekender over the

coming weeks. Here

our Arts Editor,

JOHN FOWLER,

surveys Scotland's

actors and actresses

MACBETH is the obvious showcase for Scottish acting talent. After all,

it's known in stagey circles as ''the Scottish play''.

The question is not who'll play the king. Duncan is a stuffed shirt

who doesn't even get to die on stage. The real challenge is the tyrant

himself.

Let's start in the realms of fantasy with the stars, and that of

course means film actors. For my money, I'd have Nicol Williamson

(though it would take a lot of money). There is one drawback, judging

from an event in New York earlier this year. It might be possible to get

this enigmatic perfectionist -- as he was once described by Andrew Young

in this newspaper -- on to the stage, but would the rest of the cast

stay with him?

Playing the ghost of the great American actor John Barrymore in a

piece called I Hate Hamlet, Williamson reputedly ad-libbed a few

derogatory lines about the actor playing the prince and then fetched him

a hefty thwack with his sword. The luckless man marched off stage and

abandoned the play while Williamson soliloquised the audience.

Williamson, a Hamilton lad, has a solid reputation as a hell-raiser.

Once he punched a producer and dumped him in a dustbin. Nevertheless he

is one of those actors whose every move commands attention, a genius of

the stage if he chose to be.

Who else? Sean Connery, of course, our best of all bad actors. Having

started off woodenly as a young James Bond, Connery has honed away at

his technique so that now in grizzled eld he is really quite a

respectable actor -- think of his partnership with Michael Caine in The

Man Who Would be King -- and what he lacks in finesse is made up for in

double helpings of charisma.

Mind you, he also would be a wonderful Banquo's ghost brooding

silently over the feast. A nice cameo role for you, Sean.

How about a fat Macbeth? Robbie Coltrane, Jazza of Tutti-Frutti, man

in a frock in The Fruit Machine, and star of a number of TV commercials,

may be a wizard of comedy but he's also a superb straight actor.

But to be realistic, the actor with the outstanding claim to be the

Macbeth of this notional national theatre production is a man who has

spent most of his career in the south -- Brian Cox. Cox is a colossus, a

man in his forties at the height of his power, one of the commanding

presences of our stage. His Lear with a Scots accent overwhelmed the

critics. Even off-stage you can sense the presence -- at this year's

Edinburgh Festival I saw him standing chatting on the steps at the

Empire Theatre and immediately thought of Albert Finney in his heyday.

Cox says one of his ambitions is to play Antony, so it might be

possible to divert him to another of Shakespeare's protagonists. He has

also made scathing comments about the English theatre and the ''Oxbridge

mafia'', so maybe he would be tempted north after too long an absence.

Cox is one of the two supreme Scottish actors working predominantly on

the stage, though not unfortunately in his native country. Bill Paterson

is the other. Paterson is not associated with Shakespeare -- apart from

film, his range of roles is typified by the parts he took with the

National a few years ago, the sly Schweik in Brecht's adaptation of

Jaroslav Hasek's World War 1 satire, and Harry the Horse in Guys and

Dolls. Currently he has attracted rave reviews for his part in Ariel

Dorfman's Death and the Maiden at the Royal Court in London.

ANY number of actors could make a reasonable stab at playing Macbeth,

but what about his queen? There the casting problems proliferate. Where

is the Scottish Maggie Smith, Vanessa Redgrave, or Janet Suzman?

Something in the Scottish climate seems to ensure a dearth of women able

to command the supreme roles of high drama.

Scottish actresses are very attractive and winsome and sometimes even

elegant, but where is the fire -- or whatever element is required -- in

their bellies? They're all too nice. But Anne Kirstin, perhaps?

Elegance is a word often applied to Edith Macarthur, a strong

contender for the role, though perhaps a little mature now. ''The

elegant Miss Macarthur'', wrote a former Herald woman's editor, Alison

Downie, 17 years ago. ''The strongest female presence in the Scottish

theatre'', wrote Julie Davidson in the same year.

Macarthur's long list of credits start with the Wilson Barrett com-

pany in the 1950s and continue with rep in Perth, Edinburgh, Glasgow

Citz, and seasons with the Royal Shakespeare and the Bristol Old Vic.

She was in the West End in The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie (very Jean

Brodie-ish), she recently played Miss Daisy in Driving Miss Daisy at

Perth, and currently she's fairy godmother in Cinderella with Stanley

Baxter at the King's, Glasgow.

Sunset Song was a breakthrough in television, and soaps have provided

bread and butter: Take the High Road, and the glamorous Dr Judith

Roberts in Sutherland's Law -- described by herself as ''a wee bit

tweedy and Jaegery''. Just what Lady M is not.

Much as we must applaud and respect her abilities, I fear we must turn

her down for the part.

Gerda Stevenson was Lady Macbeth to Mark McManus, alias Taggart (don't

call us, Mark, we'll call you) in Tom Fleming's disastrous production

for the Scottish Theatre Company, Maureen Beattie played Lady M at the

Glasgow Tron (and was Lady Macduff in a Royal Shakespeare Macbeth at

Stratford). Phyllis Logan has potential.

In the end we may have to go for a transvestite first lady. David

Hayman played Lady Macbeth in a skirt for the Citizens'. But my choice

would be Alan Cumming, one half of Victor and Barry but now making a

name for himself in London. In the right light and given the right

make-up he'd look stunning too.

Suppose we take the play from the top. Enter three witches . . .

Easy. Anyone girl can do it. Take three from the RSAMD.

Enter King Duncan (Tom Fleming, the voice of royal commentary),

Malcolm (Forbes Masson, other half of Victor and Barry), with

attendants, meeting a bleeding sergeant: ''What bloody man is this?'' It

turns out to be Kevin McMonigle, an actor of promise still to be

fulfilled.

Enter Banquo. This has to Robert Urquhart, if he can be enticed from

the restaurant he runs in Ullapool. An actor of vast experience and

commanding presence.

Skip a few scenes, enter Lady Macbeth reading the letter, skip a few

more scenes including the murder. Enter a Porter.

THE Porter is tricky. This is the slot for comic relief, but there has

to be an air of menace. Dismissing the whim to make Victor and Barry

play the Porter as a double act, we have to go for Gregor Fisher. In a

semmit, too.

''Horror, horror, horror! Murder and treason!'' (Macduff speaking).

This could be Ian McDiarmid, ''the most gifted young Scots actor to have

emerged in recent years'', as Allen Wright of the Scotsman wrote 20

years ago, or, as the playwright Howard Barker put it more recently, an

actor who ''seduces an audience by passion and intelligibility''.

McDiarmid is currently artistic director at the troubled Almeida Theatre

in London.

Una McLean, best known for her immaculate comedy timing but an

accomplished actress in whatever vein, is Lady Macduff. Macduff's Son is

an intractable problem, being one of those precocious Shakespearean

children whose naivety masks a wisdom they wot not of. The scene between

mother and son in which this child delivers a series of pointed

one-liners is one of the most embarrassingly awkward in the whole canon.

We'll cut it. No-one will miss it.

Enter Lady Macbeth with a taper. ''Out damned spot.'' This is her big

scene but the doctor has an important bit part. He is Ian Bannen. Or do

I mean Ian Holm? No matter, either will do nicely.

Birnam Wood moves, Macbeth slays young Siward (David O'Hara from Jute

City), Macduff dittos Macbeth, old Siward (Tom Watson, the old

Clydesider in Glasgow 1990's The Ship) is stoical, Malcolm triumphant.

Curtain.

Memo to casting director: Call on Kenny Ireland at the Lyceum,

Edinburgh, where he is directing The Bevellers, and offer him anything.