But it is not until late in the fourth act that the director dispenses with gimmickry, leaves the Minerva stage uncluttered and gives the principal characters space to inhabit the narrative.

Until then we have truly supp'd full with horrors, having been assaulted by crass special effects that have no obvious link to the action and bludgeoned by a frenzy of stylised military activity with little obvious motivation.

"How is't with me, when every noise appals me?" asks Patrick Stewart as Macbeth. Well perfectly normal when Adam Cork's ridiculous sound design replaces the simple devices offered by Shakespeare with over-amplified electronic effects.

The time scale is contemporary with CCTV footage abounding in Anthony Ward's set which is dominated by clinical white-tiled walls that double effectively as a field hospital and then as the kitchen of Macbeth's castle.

There is plenty of food imagery in the text, certainly enough to justify the emphasis on domesticity which draws us into the plot effectively. But the sight of Stewart briefing Banquo's murderers while making himself a ham sandwich is surely overkill? Perhaps the point is to stress that the anti-hero's moral compass is such that despatching a loyal colleague equates with fixing himself a snack? But it is an odd piece of stage business that ultimately proves a distraction.

Overall, the direction is heavy-handed. "Full of scorpions is my mind" Macbeth tells his wife but when he is supposed to imagine a dagger there are already enough kitchen knives on the banqueting table to equip an army of chefs, a possible reason why Stewart makes no impact with the scene.

Goold treats the witches in a similarly unorthodox manner, integrating them fully into the main action from the opening scene. (The obscure link is a feeble pun that is best kept under wraps.)

But the ruse falls between two stools since there is no evidence that the women remain in Macbeth's mind, and his subsequent meetings with them lack the other-worldliness that the soothsaying requires. Indeed, the sisters' main prophecies are incorporated into a rap routine that is not only execrable on its own terms but so inaudible that anybody new to the play would struggle to pick up vital narrative clues.

From the moment that Ross (Tim Treloar) tells Macduff (Michael Feast) that his family has been murdered, the quality of the production is transformed, and the piece moves seamlessly to a sleepwalking scene in which Kate Fleetwood mines every nuance of her lines.

The scene also benefits from the best (and simplest) visual effect of the night while Paul Shelley – who has been unimpressive as Duncan – excels as the physician.

Stewart is outstanding when bringing novel inflection to "Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow" while underlining the depth of love he had for his young wife.

He is also first-rate in adding to the foreboding in the dialogue through inventive physical tics and guttural rasping.

But it is too little too late. This remains a shapeless, largely incoherent production that draws on too many conflicting influences. How Goold can combine Lorna Heavey's video projection of a Leni Riefenstahl-inpsired political rally with Ivor Novello lyrics is beyond me.

Jeremy Malies