Hamlet

William Shakespeare’s Hamlet is, by all accounts, one of the cornerstones of the theatrical canon. According to some it is the most frequently performed play in the English language, and by popular cliché at least, playing the part of the melancholy Dane is the acting equivalent of a bar mitzvah—Hamlet is the closest thing young male actors get to a rite of passage.

Yet Hamlet is not an easy work. It is by no means straightforward. And while it features some obviously crowd pleasing elements—it begins with a ghost sighting and basically ends with a climactic and bloody duel—the plot between proceeds in a frustratingly listless manner, often relying on long passages of monologue addressed at no one in particular, and sometimes only loosely connected to the story one would assume it is meant to move forward. Of course, these monologues are largely made up of diamond sharp phrases, which have so thoroughly penetrated the culture that anyone with even a working knowledge of English should be constantly struck by a feeling of déjà vu.

That’s the paradox of Hamlet. The characteristics most valued in modern storytelling, like realistic characterizations and relentless forward plot momentum, are where Hamlet is weakest. Likewise, the play’s chief strengths come packaged in a form, the monologue, which is today viewed largely as a clichéd and cheap dramatic trick—the stage equivalent of a movie’s voiceover narration.

BTE’s recent adaptation of Hamlet, under the direction of Ensemble member Gerard Stropnicky, employs some interesting, if not ultimately entirely successful, attempts at bridging the gap between the play’s chief assets and a modern audience’s storytelling expectations. In the BTE telling, Hamlet is less a tragedy than an action/comedy. Forget The Tragedy of Hamlet, Prince of Denmark; a more appropriate title for this version might be Lethal Weapon: Procrastination Kills.

The plot, briefly, is as follows (and this is a spoiler warning for anyone who hasn’t found the time in the past 300 years to find out how Hamlet ends): The place is Denmark, and recently the reigning monarch, Old Hamlet, has died. His brother, Claudius (played by James Goode), marries the widowed Queen Gertrude (Elizabeth Dowd), which doesn’t sit well with her son, Prince Hamlet (Andrew Hubatsek), who grieves deeply for his dead father. The ghost of the dead king visits Hamlet, reveals that Claudius murdered him and tasks Hamlet with avenging his death. Hamlet, for reasons clear only to advanced Shakespearean scholars, decides to feign madness and investigate further. The royal family becomes concerned by Hamlet’s erratic behavior, and tries to discover the cause of it—initially suspecting it’s lovesickness over Ophelia (Cassandra Pisieczko), the daughter of royal advisor Polonius (Daniel Roth). Eventually Hamlet resolves to kill Claudius, but ends up murdering Polonius by accident, after which Claudius has Hamlet banished to England, and secretly conspires to have the English kill him. Polonius’ death leads his son, Laertes (Richard Cannaday), to attempt to overthrow Claudius in revenge, but Laertes partners with him when Claudius explains that it was Hamlet who killed Polonius. Polonius’ death also leads to his daughter Ophelia going mad and drowning. Hamlet escapes the ship bound for England and returns in time for Ophelia’s funeral, where he and Laertes argue. Laertes and Hamlet agree to a duel, during which Claudius and Laertes plan to kill Hamlet by means of a poisoned sword if Hamlet loses, and a poisoned victory drink if he wins. Of course, things don’t go as planned. Gertrude drinks the poisoned drink, both Hamlet and Laertes are stabbed with the poisoned sword, and before dying himself, Hamlet forces Claudius to drink poison, thus (finally) enacting his revenge.

Richard Cannaday as Laertes and Andrew Hubatsek as Hamlet

The BTE do a great job of communicating all the action in a straightforward and never less than understandable way. As anyone who zoned out to the accompaniment of Julius Caesar or Romeo and Juliet in high school can tell you, this is no small accomplishment. Most productions of Hamlet follow the Laurence Olivier model of really wallowing in the monologues, getting caught up in the beauty of the language in a way that glosses over and can even confuse the physical action of the play. The BTE production on the other hand, goes in the opposite direction. The famous “to be or not to be” monologue is delivered so quickly and low-key that it’s almost easy to miss. Conversely, the “get thee to a nunnery” scene between Hamlet and Ophelia is attacked with gusto by this cast. It’s an action scene in this telling, with the two characters physically retreating and converging with each other on the set in time to the emotions expressed in the dialogue. A scene like Laertes’ storming of the castle plays like a blockbuster movie action set piece. Richard Cannaday as Laertes’ bellows like Gerard Butler in the film “300,” while choreographed sword fights go on in the background. It’s all well-staged, powerful stuff, but it often only exposes the weaknesses inherent in the plot. Why does Hamlet wait so long to act? You don’t get much of an explanation in this reading, which emphasizes the many times he vows revenge and glosses over many of his doubts. Why does Laertes forgive Hamlet in the end? When the beloved “psychological depth” of the play is deemphasized, jarring plot devices like that are much more glaring.

Aaron Roberge as Horatio and Andrew Hubatsek as Hamlet

As Hamlet, ensemble member Andrew Hubatsek initially seems an odd choice. In the early scenes he seems to be channeling James Dean, playing Hamlet as a leather-jacket-wearing surly youth. The problem is that in the context, playing off the eminently charming Elizabeth Dowd and James Goode (as Gertrude and Claudius) he comes off as petulant rather than noble in his suffering. Hubatsek’s Hamlet doesn’t really come into focus until he’s called upon to feign madness. When he sidles up to Polonius, calls him a fishmonger, and proceeds to deliver a series of ratatat one-liners, it’s clear this Hamlet is occupying a space somewhere between Groucho Marx and Daffy Duck. It’s an interesting and vastly entertaining choice, one Hubatsek clearly relishes—nobody in the ensemble does Looney Tunes styled comic mayhem like him (I, for one, would love to see a BTE adaptation of a Jerry Lewis picture with him in the lead), but it exposes some of the more problematic aspects of the play. I may be 300 years too late by harping on this, but Hamlet’s plan to feign madness has always struck me as a contender for the worst plan in dramatic history. What exactly is he trying to accomplish by pretending to be crazy? All it seems to do is alienate Hamlet from any characters that could possibly help him, and it puts him no closer to revenging his father’s death. But in this portrayal at least, it provides a great number of laughs, and perhaps that’s enough.

One definite effect the comic Hamlet has is to undercut the tragic aspects of the character. Nobody feels bad for Groucho Marx, and likewise it’s hard to work up a lot of feeling for this Hamlet. The real tragedy of the play is what happens to Polonius and his children, Ophelia and Laertes. All three characters are not involved in either Claudius’ initial murder of the king, or Hamlet’s subsequent plot for revenge, yet all three end the play dead. Ironically, Polonius, the wise court advisor, misinterprets just about every event of the play leading up to his untimely demise. He’s living in a romantic comedy where he’s the bumbling matchmaker marrying his daughter up the social ladder up until the moment Hamlet stabs him to death. His whole family is caught up in machinations that they do not comprehend and have no control over, and that’s truly tragic.

James Goode, as Claudius, gives a world class Shakespearean performance, and for this audience member at least, steals the play. His character isn’t given the number of show-stopping monologues that some others get, really he only has one—the prayer scene, but the way he delivers it threatens to upset the audience’s balance of sympathies. His Claudius seems wholly motivated by his love for Gertrude. He’s a man fully aware of how wrong his actions are, but driven by his passions to follow them through nonetheless.

Daniel Roth as Polonius, James Goode as Claudius, Elizabeth Dowd as Gertrude

On the downside, Cassandra Pisieczko plays Ophelia like she’s an abused woman, constantly trembling and on the verge of tears. As her situation worsens, she doesn’t leave much room to take her emotions higher, and consequently seems flat as the play goes on. The only truly wrong note I felt the play struck came in her first scene with Polonius. As Polonius discourages her from pursuing Hamlet, he grabs her arm, twists it, and sort of pushes her to the floor, where, cowering, she delivers a few more lines. This scene is played in other productions, as in Laurence Olivier’s 1948 adaptation, almost for laughs—Polonius is at most a busybody overbearing parent, there’s no arm twisting or any other violence, implied or otherwise. That the BTE chose to portray Polonius and Ophelia’s relationship like this is a curious choice. It seems to strike notes of misogyny echoed elsewhere in the play, in particular the mirroring scenes of sexual panic between first Ophelia and Hamlet, and later between Gertrude and Hamlet. That Hamlet is terrified and repulsed by the idea of women’s sexuality is certainly a valid reading of the text, as any number of post-Freud productions have shown, but playing these scenes as strongly as BTE does is a strange choice for a play that spends so much time establishing Hamlet as a kind of wise-cracking comic figure. At the least, it does nothing to make the audience sympathize with Hamlet, and makes James Goode’s Claudius appear that much more attractive.

But this is getting academic! That BTE’s production of Hamlet can inspire its audience to so deeply consider the characters motivation is accomplishment enough for a play that dates from the end of the 17^th century being performed in Bloomsburg, PA in 2010. There is a lot of great acting on display (and I haven’t even mentioned BU Student actor, Eddie Buck, and his delightful pantomime), aided in no small way by Bruce Candlish’s superb and moody lighting design, and a minimal but highly effective set by Ethan Krupp. This is a Hamlet that is accessible for almost any audience I can think of. You’ll laugh, you’ll cry, you’ll thrill at the action, and that’s more than you can say for most 300 year old entertainments.

Nick McGaw lives and works in Bloomsburg.  He is a graduate of Alfred University and the co-owner of Endless Records.

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