Hamlet film review and picspam: Act I
Okay everyone, I am sorry, this is freaking ridiculous. My only defence for the length of this project is that I have been waiting an entire year to really talk about this. I really have no other excuses. (Well, other than the fact that I'm on vacation right now and idle hands are the devil's workshop.)
My background with Shakespeare and Hamlet and this Hamlet (i.e., self-indulgent ramblings):
I was an English major as an undergrad, though Elizabethan literature was never my speciality. I am, however, named after a character in a Shakespeare play, so you can surmise that my parents are great lovers of literature and it was important in my house, always. I've always enjoyed Shakespeare very much (yes, even in high school when I was being tortured with it), and I've seen a fair few productions in my time. I do feel, however, that Shakespeare is like an apple: I'd rather have no apple at all than a crummy, mealy, sawdust-like factory-farmed red (not)delicious. By the same token, I'd rather see no Shakespeare at all than see it mangled. I've seen enough transcendent productions (Mark Rylance in an Original Practices version of Measure for Measure, for one) to know what it can be, I find it hard to settle, if you know what I mean. However, I'm not an expert, and I'm not a scholar in this regard. I know what I like, but I can't go into great detail about what that might mean, specifically.
Whilst in high school doing my British Literature course, I concluded that there are two types of people in this world: Hamlet people and Macbeth people. MacBeth seems to be about people who are far, far too certain, while Hamlet is about people not being certain enough. I relate much more to the latter and Hamlet has always been my favourite of the tragedies.
I've seen a couple of theatrical productions of Hamlet before, but the problem has always been that they make me hate Hamlet by the end. I remember one production where Hamlet wore this long black greatcoat through the entire play and conveyed his angst via whispering many of his lines, and screaming the rest. He never cracked a smile. He was a miserable sod and when he died I was just like, thank god. Which of course is a problem because a tragedy only works on an emotional level if you don't want all those horrible things to happen to the characters. If you're wishing they'd just shut up and die already, it's not terribly tragic when they do. It's a relief. And really, the trick with Hamlet is portraying a man who, right now, during the action of the play, is in a very dark place, but who was not always thus. Everyone keeps remarking on what a change there has been in his personality, which means the actor playing him must portray a man who for most of his life has been jovial, has many friends, is a clever, promising youth, but who has been completely set to sea by his father's death and the remarriage of his mother.
The story of me going to see the stage production is just one of the combination of Hamlet, England (because I've always been an unreconstructed anglophile, due to having lived there for a brief period as a child), and David Tennant, combined with some gentle prodding and assistance from some friends (who are actually legion and if I start listing them here I'll inevitably leave someone out by accident and I don't want to do that, so you lot know who you are) proved to be irresistible. I flew to London for a week's holiday and saw Hamlet at the Novello Theatre on January 10, 2009, almost exactly a year ago. It was closing night, and DT had only been back on stage after his surgery for about a week, and it was absolutely magical. So magical that about 2 minutes into it, I forgot all about how the Tube train I was on had been inexplicably delayed, I had to run in stocking feet about a half a mile from the station to the theatre, the theatre lost my ticket which had been given to the box office to hold for me by a more-on-time friend, the entire population of the lobby looking at me like I was a nutter until hey, look at that: my ticket, stuck under someone's pile of crap in the box office.
I've been so eagerly anticipating this film because I wanted everyone else to be able to see what I saw. Or at least, an approximation of it. A filmed version of a theatrical production will never be the same, and so it is with this. I do think, though, that many of the things that were lost from the move from stage to screen were made-up for by the things that could not be done on stage the first time around, the filmic devices and tropes that can't be recreated live. While the theme of a surveillance society in which everyone is spying on everyone else was definitely present in the stage version, for example, the move to film has brought that into much, much clearer relief. More on that later.
I think I should just get on with it, don't you?
ACT I, Scene 1
Elsinore. A platform before the castle.
This scene was one of the most changed, just from a lighting and staging standpoint, from the theatrical version. Though, I must disclose that I didn't actually see it in-person in the theatre because I was stuck out in the lobby waiting for the scene change so the ushers could take me to my seat (see above re drama getting there). I did, however, watch it on the monitor. Being that it was just a regular ole stage, and a pretty much bare one at that, this scene was played in pitch black with the actors illuminating each others faces with flashlights, sometimes bouncing the beam off the highly-polished floor in order to do so. In the film now it's a little bit less atmospheric, with Horatio, Marcellus and Bernado paroling a corridor instead.
Still plenty of atmosphere to go around, though! Definitely the X-Files school of using-torches-as-practical-lighting.
But, this scene immediately introduces us to the ever-present CCTV cameras and makes them narratively important from the beginning. This is something that did not feature at all in the stage production. For the film, I think it works really well and I'm glad they really used it on several occasions, rather than just throwing it in every now and then as a Symbol but not something that actually accomplishes anything, narratively.
Here, its used to show that the Ghost can not been seen on camera.
Now you see him...
... and now you don't.
By being invisible to the all-seeing-eyes of the cameras, old Hamlet is no longer a part of the Court, and given his reappearance in the closet scene, one wonders if the ability to see the Ghost reflects on whether or not a person regards old Hamlet as still important to Elsinore after his death.
The double-casting of Patrick Stewart as both the Ghost and Claudius, is not unheard-of, and it makes definite sense while at the same time raising some troubling issues about whether or not they are in fact twins, which for some reason makes Gertrude's relationship with Claudius even creepier.
Also: exposition. They've cut quite a bit out of this scene as it is, but it's still a whole lot of exposition, set in a place where there's not much else to concentrate on while it's being exposited. But, now that we're all caught up to speed on the history and politics of Denmark...
Act 1, Scene 2
A room of State in the castle
If looks could kill...
This is a weird scene, and there's some interesting differences in seeing it on TV as opposed to stage. First of all, on stage there's no camera telling you where to look. In the theatrical version, Hamlet was nearly invisible until he starts being spoken to by Claudius. You don't notice he's even there, he's a total non-presence, and one gets the impression he's been skulking about silently like this for quite a while, being ignored by everyone. On film, though, you get the camera telling you to look at him, as he stands off to the side so still except for his eyes darting around and wishing grim death on everyone. I'm not sure if this is a good thing.
This production makes it very clear right from the start that Gertrude and Claudius are a love-match. This is not a marriage of convenience, and there's a pretty heavy subtext that they'd been carrying on secretly even before old Hamlet died. Also, fact fans: That's Zoe Thorne, the voice of the Gelth, in the background in the grey dress.
I really liked Gertrude's reaction to Hamlet sassing her. It gives the impression that their relationship wasn't always like this, that perhaps at one time they had been a close, happy family. She's quite surprised and taken-aback by his behaviour.
My vote for the performance most improved by the move to the screen is for Patrick Stewart. I was impressed by his stage performance, but not overly so, and I felt that both David Tennant and Oliver Ford Davies kind of blew him off the stage at times. His Claudius, psychologically, is a brilliant concept, but for me it just did not make it all the way to the Dress Circle. On film, in close-up, however, it's a whole other creature. In one of the making-of segments, Stewart said that acting for stage is about doing, but acting for camera is about thinking. I suspect that his calculating, charismatic, consummate-politician Claudius was just too much about thinking to be as effective on stage as it is on camera.
And now we come to the first soliloquy. It was actually quite distressing in the theatre, and remains a bit so on film. I do believe there was quite a long pause between "O God! God!" and "How weary..." that was kind of uncomfortable. I think some may reasonably say that this first soliloquy is a bit early to be presented with the depth of Hamlet's grief in such a raw form. You barely know him and there he is having a breakdown with tears and the works.
This soliloquy also immediately showed me the answer to something I'd been wondering about when I started following the filming of this. The stage production very much made the audience part of the action of the play. Not that the fourth-wall was overtly broken at any point, but the mirrors which made up the backdrop for every scene reflected the audience in them, so you felt yourself up there on stage, and the soliloquies were addressed, for the most part, out to the audience. I'll hit upon the effect of that more in a later soliloquy, but I was wondering whether the camera would be addressed in the film, as a stand-in for the audience.
I think that throughout it's done really effectively, with the actors not keeping constant eye-contact with the camera, but hitting important moments by doing so. Puppy-Eyes Tennant is particularly affecting when doing this.
Look at that face. "But break, my heart, for I must hold my tongue."
Okay, so I have a theory (and no, it's not bunnies). This is purely speculative interpretation on my part, but this scene really played for me like Hamlet didn't actually believe it was his father that Horatio and the guards had seen until Hortaio says, "Oh yes my lord, he wore his beaver up." There's a transformation in Hamlet at that moment, from sort of idle curiosity bordering on a worry for security (after all, an armed man being seen wandering the ramparts of a castle could be a lot of troubling things, but not necessarily the ghost of one's dead father) to excitement and dread.
Act 1 Scene 3
A room in Polonius's house
Hey, it's Laertes and Ophelia! My general feelings from when I saw them on stage carry over here. I was quite impressed with Ed Bennett, and I had a feeling that his few weeks playing Hamlet while DT was out really deepened his performance as Laertes. Not so impressed with Mariah Gale. Which isn't to say that she was or is bad, she just seems generally outclassed by the rest of the lead cast. Though I don't envy her because I have always found Ophelia to be a tough nut to crack.
This bit of business with the condoms was carried over from the stage version.
And now is the time when I gush about Oliver Ford Davies. It is tough work making someone who is written as being brain-numbingly tedious actually a joy and a pleasure to watch. This is a very sympathetic Polonious, and in general this is a production that deals very sympathetically with all of its characters. If Hamlet seems less sympathetic than one would expect, I think that's primarily because the characters often presented as moustache-twirling villains or just plain insufferable incompetents are here given perfectly rational motivations. Polonius seems like a bit of a blowhard, but also like an old man who was once sharper than he is becoming now, in the beginning stages of his decline. When he loses the plot in mid-sentence, it's just sad because one gets the impression that he's becoming aware of a creeping dementia. The viewer takes no pleasure in his mis-steps nor in his death. On stage, I felt that he stole the show in pretty much every scene he was in.
Act 1, Scene 4
The Platform
Welcome to the scene I feel was the least well served by the move to film.
This space is just too claustrophobic for this action to feel right, to me. There's just something about how immediately close to Hamlet the Ghost is, and how Hamlet has no room to react. It blunts all the emotions for me for some reason. Also, his delivery of "It's very cold!" is nowhere near as funny as it was-the gag just kind of falls flat.
Act 1 Scene 5
Another part of the platform
This scene, however, where there's more room for the actors (and the camera) to move, is fantastic. It does sort of make one wonder what kind of a father old Hamlet was. Young Hamlet is so devoted to him, but this production posits that he was not a terribly nice man, and not the ruler that Denmark really needs. One gets the impression that young Hamlet is very much idealising is father, thinking perhaps back to when he was younger (rather than off at school and not even around to be with his father) and more easily impressed with daddy being powerful and manly.
Now, where have I seen this move before?
Okay, are we ready to witness Hamlet hatching his cunning plan? Here we go:
O villain, villain, smiling damned villain!
My tables, -meet it is I set it down
That one may smile, and smile, and be a villain;
At least I'm sure it may be so in Denmark.
Seeming to be one thing on the outside while being something quite different on the inside-if it works for Claudius, it can work for Hamlet.
tl;dr: anyone who doens't think this is a splendid idea I've had, gtfo.
I find the magnificent DT to be most magnificent when he's animated, when his character has a mission or a vision or a goal. It's from this point onward that I find his portrayal of Hamlet to be mesmerising. He was good as the sulky, sad, angry, aimless pre-Ghost Hamlet, but once he's got a fire lit under him, I can't look away. I've seen and enjoyed him in things where he's not a grand questing hero (or anti-hero) but nothing beats a Tennant role where he gets to sink his teeth into being a man with a plan.
And here endeth Act I. Tune in next time for Act II, when we'll hear Polonius say...
"This is too long."
My background with Shakespeare and Hamlet and this Hamlet (i.e., self-indulgent ramblings):
I was an English major as an undergrad, though Elizabethan literature was never my speciality. I am, however, named after a character in a Shakespeare play, so you can surmise that my parents are great lovers of literature and it was important in my house, always. I've always enjoyed Shakespeare very much (yes, even in high school when I was being tortured with it), and I've seen a fair few productions in my time. I do feel, however, that Shakespeare is like an apple: I'd rather have no apple at all than a crummy, mealy, sawdust-like factory-farmed red (not)delicious. By the same token, I'd rather see no Shakespeare at all than see it mangled. I've seen enough transcendent productions (Mark Rylance in an Original Practices version of Measure for Measure, for one) to know what it can be, I find it hard to settle, if you know what I mean. However, I'm not an expert, and I'm not a scholar in this regard. I know what I like, but I can't go into great detail about what that might mean, specifically.
Whilst in high school doing my British Literature course, I concluded that there are two types of people in this world: Hamlet people and Macbeth people. MacBeth seems to be about people who are far, far too certain, while Hamlet is about people not being certain enough. I relate much more to the latter and Hamlet has always been my favourite of the tragedies.
I've seen a couple of theatrical productions of Hamlet before, but the problem has always been that they make me hate Hamlet by the end. I remember one production where Hamlet wore this long black greatcoat through the entire play and conveyed his angst via whispering many of his lines, and screaming the rest. He never cracked a smile. He was a miserable sod and when he died I was just like, thank god. Which of course is a problem because a tragedy only works on an emotional level if you don't want all those horrible things to happen to the characters. If you're wishing they'd just shut up and die already, it's not terribly tragic when they do. It's a relief. And really, the trick with Hamlet is portraying a man who, right now, during the action of the play, is in a very dark place, but who was not always thus. Everyone keeps remarking on what a change there has been in his personality, which means the actor playing him must portray a man who for most of his life has been jovial, has many friends, is a clever, promising youth, but who has been completely set to sea by his father's death and the remarriage of his mother.
The story of me going to see the stage production is just one of the combination of Hamlet, England (because I've always been an unreconstructed anglophile, due to having lived there for a brief period as a child), and David Tennant, combined with some gentle prodding and assistance from some friends (who are actually legion and if I start listing them here I'll inevitably leave someone out by accident and I don't want to do that, so you lot know who you are) proved to be irresistible. I flew to London for a week's holiday and saw Hamlet at the Novello Theatre on January 10, 2009, almost exactly a year ago. It was closing night, and DT had only been back on stage after his surgery for about a week, and it was absolutely magical. So magical that about 2 minutes into it, I forgot all about how the Tube train I was on had been inexplicably delayed, I had to run in stocking feet about a half a mile from the station to the theatre, the theatre lost my ticket which had been given to the box office to hold for me by a more-on-time friend, the entire population of the lobby looking at me like I was a nutter until hey, look at that: my ticket, stuck under someone's pile of crap in the box office.
I've been so eagerly anticipating this film because I wanted everyone else to be able to see what I saw. Or at least, an approximation of it. A filmed version of a theatrical production will never be the same, and so it is with this. I do think, though, that many of the things that were lost from the move from stage to screen were made-up for by the things that could not be done on stage the first time around, the filmic devices and tropes that can't be recreated live. While the theme of a surveillance society in which everyone is spying on everyone else was definitely present in the stage version, for example, the move to film has brought that into much, much clearer relief. More on that later.
I think I should just get on with it, don't you?
ACT I, Scene 1
Elsinore. A platform before the castle.
This scene was one of the most changed, just from a lighting and staging standpoint, from the theatrical version. Though, I must disclose that I didn't actually see it in-person in the theatre because I was stuck out in the lobby waiting for the scene change so the ushers could take me to my seat (see above re drama getting there). I did, however, watch it on the monitor. Being that it was just a regular ole stage, and a pretty much bare one at that, this scene was played in pitch black with the actors illuminating each others faces with flashlights, sometimes bouncing the beam off the highly-polished floor in order to do so. In the film now it's a little bit less atmospheric, with Horatio, Marcellus and Bernado paroling a corridor instead.
Still plenty of atmosphere to go around, though! Definitely the X-Files school of using-torches-as-practical-lighting.
But, this scene immediately introduces us to the ever-present CCTV cameras and makes them narratively important from the beginning. This is something that did not feature at all in the stage production. For the film, I think it works really well and I'm glad they really used it on several occasions, rather than just throwing it in every now and then as a Symbol but not something that actually accomplishes anything, narratively.
Here, its used to show that the Ghost can not been seen on camera.
Now you see him...
... and now you don't.
By being invisible to the all-seeing-eyes of the cameras, old Hamlet is no longer a part of the Court, and given his reappearance in the closet scene, one wonders if the ability to see the Ghost reflects on whether or not a person regards old Hamlet as still important to Elsinore after his death.
The double-casting of Patrick Stewart as both the Ghost and Claudius, is not unheard-of, and it makes definite sense while at the same time raising some troubling issues about whether or not they are in fact twins, which for some reason makes Gertrude's relationship with Claudius even creepier.
Also: exposition. They've cut quite a bit out of this scene as it is, but it's still a whole lot of exposition, set in a place where there's not much else to concentrate on while it's being exposited. But, now that we're all caught up to speed on the history and politics of Denmark...
Act 1, Scene 2
A room of State in the castle
If looks could kill...
This is a weird scene, and there's some interesting differences in seeing it on TV as opposed to stage. First of all, on stage there's no camera telling you where to look. In the theatrical version, Hamlet was nearly invisible until he starts being spoken to by Claudius. You don't notice he's even there, he's a total non-presence, and one gets the impression he's been skulking about silently like this for quite a while, being ignored by everyone. On film, though, you get the camera telling you to look at him, as he stands off to the side so still except for his eyes darting around and wishing grim death on everyone. I'm not sure if this is a good thing.
This production makes it very clear right from the start that Gertrude and Claudius are a love-match. This is not a marriage of convenience, and there's a pretty heavy subtext that they'd been carrying on secretly even before old Hamlet died. Also, fact fans: That's Zoe Thorne, the voice of the Gelth, in the background in the grey dress.
I really liked Gertrude's reaction to Hamlet sassing her. It gives the impression that their relationship wasn't always like this, that perhaps at one time they had been a close, happy family. She's quite surprised and taken-aback by his behaviour.
My vote for the performance most improved by the move to the screen is for Patrick Stewart. I was impressed by his stage performance, but not overly so, and I felt that both David Tennant and Oliver Ford Davies kind of blew him off the stage at times. His Claudius, psychologically, is a brilliant concept, but for me it just did not make it all the way to the Dress Circle. On film, in close-up, however, it's a whole other creature. In one of the making-of segments, Stewart said that acting for stage is about doing, but acting for camera is about thinking. I suspect that his calculating, charismatic, consummate-politician Claudius was just too much about thinking to be as effective on stage as it is on camera.
And now we come to the first soliloquy. It was actually quite distressing in the theatre, and remains a bit so on film. I do believe there was quite a long pause between "O God! God!" and "How weary..." that was kind of uncomfortable. I think some may reasonably say that this first soliloquy is a bit early to be presented with the depth of Hamlet's grief in such a raw form. You barely know him and there he is having a breakdown with tears and the works.
This soliloquy also immediately showed me the answer to something I'd been wondering about when I started following the filming of this. The stage production very much made the audience part of the action of the play. Not that the fourth-wall was overtly broken at any point, but the mirrors which made up the backdrop for every scene reflected the audience in them, so you felt yourself up there on stage, and the soliloquies were addressed, for the most part, out to the audience. I'll hit upon the effect of that more in a later soliloquy, but I was wondering whether the camera would be addressed in the film, as a stand-in for the audience.
I think that throughout it's done really effectively, with the actors not keeping constant eye-contact with the camera, but hitting important moments by doing so. Puppy-Eyes Tennant is particularly affecting when doing this.
Look at that face. "But break, my heart, for I must hold my tongue."
Okay, so I have a theory (and no, it's not bunnies). This is purely speculative interpretation on my part, but this scene really played for me like Hamlet didn't actually believe it was his father that Horatio and the guards had seen until Hortaio says, "Oh yes my lord, he wore his beaver up." There's a transformation in Hamlet at that moment, from sort of idle curiosity bordering on a worry for security (after all, an armed man being seen wandering the ramparts of a castle could be a lot of troubling things, but not necessarily the ghost of one's dead father) to excitement and dread.
Act 1 Scene 3
A room in Polonius's house
Hey, it's Laertes and Ophelia! My general feelings from when I saw them on stage carry over here. I was quite impressed with Ed Bennett, and I had a feeling that his few weeks playing Hamlet while DT was out really deepened his performance as Laertes. Not so impressed with Mariah Gale. Which isn't to say that she was or is bad, she just seems generally outclassed by the rest of the lead cast. Though I don't envy her because I have always found Ophelia to be a tough nut to crack.
This bit of business with the condoms was carried over from the stage version.
And now is the time when I gush about Oliver Ford Davies. It is tough work making someone who is written as being brain-numbingly tedious actually a joy and a pleasure to watch. This is a very sympathetic Polonious, and in general this is a production that deals very sympathetically with all of its characters. If Hamlet seems less sympathetic than one would expect, I think that's primarily because the characters often presented as moustache-twirling villains or just plain insufferable incompetents are here given perfectly rational motivations. Polonius seems like a bit of a blowhard, but also like an old man who was once sharper than he is becoming now, in the beginning stages of his decline. When he loses the plot in mid-sentence, it's just sad because one gets the impression that he's becoming aware of a creeping dementia. The viewer takes no pleasure in his mis-steps nor in his death. On stage, I felt that he stole the show in pretty much every scene he was in.
Act 1, Scene 4
The Platform
Welcome to the scene I feel was the least well served by the move to film.
This space is just too claustrophobic for this action to feel right, to me. There's just something about how immediately close to Hamlet the Ghost is, and how Hamlet has no room to react. It blunts all the emotions for me for some reason. Also, his delivery of "It's very cold!" is nowhere near as funny as it was-the gag just kind of falls flat.
Act 1 Scene 5
Another part of the platform
This scene, however, where there's more room for the actors (and the camera) to move, is fantastic. It does sort of make one wonder what kind of a father old Hamlet was. Young Hamlet is so devoted to him, but this production posits that he was not a terribly nice man, and not the ruler that Denmark really needs. One gets the impression that young Hamlet is very much idealising is father, thinking perhaps back to when he was younger (rather than off at school and not even around to be with his father) and more easily impressed with daddy being powerful and manly.
Now, where have I seen this move before?
Okay, are we ready to witness Hamlet hatching his cunning plan? Here we go:
O villain, villain, smiling damned villain!
My tables, -meet it is I set it down
That one may smile, and smile, and be a villain;
At least I'm sure it may be so in Denmark.
Seeming to be one thing on the outside while being something quite different on the inside-if it works for Claudius, it can work for Hamlet.
tl;dr: anyone who doens't think this is a splendid idea I've had, gtfo.
I find the magnificent DT to be most magnificent when he's animated, when his character has a mission or a vision or a goal. It's from this point onward that I find his portrayal of Hamlet to be mesmerising. He was good as the sulky, sad, angry, aimless pre-Ghost Hamlet, but once he's got a fire lit under him, I can't look away. I've seen and enjoyed him in things where he's not a grand questing hero (or anti-hero) but nothing beats a Tennant role where he gets to sink his teeth into being a man with a plan.
And here endeth Act I. Tune in next time for Act II, when we'll hear Polonius say...
"This is too long."