Shakespeare's Hamlet

Entry No. 3 in the Oregon Shakespeare Festival (OSF) 2010 Recollection Series.

There is always a certain dubiousness one encounters upon realizing a shakespeare is done out of its time. It is never, for me, a question of "purity" of the work, rather, "is it done well?"

Well. In the case of OSF 2010's production of Hamlet, yes, yes it is done very well indeed. In fact, out of all the years I've attended OSF, this year's Hamlet has certainly been one of their best shows, and one of the best shows I've seen in my life.

This is owed in part to Dan Donohue, who played the title role with skill, grace, and above all else, passion. In 2007 I saw him play opposite John Tufts' Romeo as a motorcycle jacket-clad Mercutio. I've admired his style and ability ever since. I could go on about Donohue all day, but suffice it to say he played an intense and intensely convincing Hamlet.

The rest of the cast was likewise brilliant. Susannah Flood as Ophelia, especially, was impressive. In the end, it was the integrity of the actors which made this play what it was. All else I will discuss later, but the actors, their passion, and skill where what gave me chills and ultimately what moved me to tears. (I will admit to losing it when Horatio spoke: "Goodnight, sweet prince. Angels sing thee to thy rest," as well as in the end, where Old Hamlet's ghost appeared to hold his dead son in his arms under a single, stark spotlight. Oh, and of course when Horatio tries to poison himself to follow his closest friend to the grave.)

But enough of that: there's a lot of ground to cover with this one.

Hamlet had my second favorite Ashland set ever (second only to the aforementioned 2006 performance of Jekyll and Hyde). Its diversity and changeability left nothing at all to be desired. Nor, on the subject, did the costumes. It was admittedly disarming at first to imagine and then see Hamlet in a perfectly modern black suit and sunglasses, but in the end it suited him marvelously. The portrayal of Horatio as a sort of roadside scholar and sometime hitchhiker was equally disarming and then endearing (the glasses were a great touch).

And the lighting! I could go on for pages. An example: the low, dim lighting of the scene following the play within the play, Hamlet vowing to use words only and not weapons when he goes to speak with his mother, then suddenly seizing the dagger anyway and plunging offstage with an almost animal cry of "MOTHER," and, just as suddenly, the low lights on stage extinguish at the same instant that the house is plunged into light! (I gasped aloud and jumped, neither of which happen very often with live theatre.) And what, instant intermission? it was great. As was the introduction of hip-hop for the players (don't worry, I frowned when I first read it, too: trust me, it worked), but that's another matter entirely.

In short, everything was fabulous, but a few more tidbits and things I want to remember, before I go:

One. Old Hamlet was portrayed as deaf. He and Hamlet conversed in sign-language, Hamlet only relaying bits and pieces of what his father told him to the audience. He also had a habit of occasionally punctuating his conversations with other characters with a sign or two, placing special emphasis and usually anger on certain words and moments. This even deeper connection between father and son - this absolute fluency that not even the audience was privy to - was powerful.

Two. Hamelt's antics with scissors when feigning madness. It went something like this: Hamlet's repeated line of "except my life" (suggesting self-slaughter, see Act 2) was accompanied with a slow advance on Polonius. Hamlet held a pair of scissors at eye level as though ready to kill him then and there and have done with it. After he stopped and fell silent, rather than strike, he abruptly cut off Polonius' necktie and, as if it were the most natural thing in the world (but not without a hint of thoughtfulness), used it as a bookmark.
I also enjoyed later that all Hamlet had to do to make Polonius back off was to snip his scissors at him once.

Three. The choice of casting Rosencrantz and Guildenstern not only as women, but as a lesbian couple. It was a take I had never thought of and certainly have never seen before: the innovation was refreshing.

Four. Everything else.

Do You know me, sir?
I do, sir.
Do you?
Aye: you are a fish-monger.