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Enter Corporal Macbeth By PETER LEWIS Macbeth by Shakespeare Greenwich Theatre Rating * A GREAT NIGHT for the noises off. A night of whistling and whinnying and the calls of whippoorwhills, of electronic music for the witches' chants, of echo chambers and metallic vibrations from the back- projected ghosts. The black pit of the Green- wich stage, billowing with smoke, probed by spotlights, is choked with atmosphere. But what about the noises on? Never have I heard the lines rattled, gabbled, scrambled and swallowed with less ceremony. Double, double and hurry up at the back there. They ricochet into the darkness like bullets. Ewan Hooper's production deliberately treats the play as a contemporary story of political butchery performed by very ordinary men. There is nothing kingly about Alan Dobie's Macbeth--no crown, no wig, just a short back and sides. Agonised Not so much a general as a petty tyrant of a corporal and his ranting hysteria soon suggests which corporal-- Corporal Hitler. One can see the point, but Macbeth's language deserves more than Hitler's monotonous style. There are some good things nevertheless. An agonised sleepwalking scene by Hilde- gard Neil, an eerie, motionless battle piece and good witchery. A night of dark doings, many of then inaudible, full of sound and fury and not always signifying very much.