My annual trip to Richmond, Virginia, had a new element this year. In addition to the usual assortment of sites of historical and gustatory importance, it featured the
Quill Theatre's performance of
Hamlet at
Agecroft Hall. A Tudor mansion was a perfect locale to see a novel yet ultimately unsatisfying edition of Shakespeare's classic.
I attended the opening night performance, although there had been two
preview showings earlier in the week. The play was billed as a 7:30
start. At 7:35, there were still patrons wandering into the box
office. Apparently the company allows late arrivals and late seating
and does not believe in beginning promptly. The play opened, after a
lengthy and unnecessary introduction, at 7:42.
The stage is set in one of the Agecroft Hall courtyards. The backdrop, the house itself, provides a terrific setting for watching Shakespeare. The stage was a thrust with audience on three sides. There was no set other than the mansion and a few benches that served various functions.
The costuming was modern, with black casual wear, white and seersucker suits, college T-shirts and frat apparel among the outfits. Claudius was particularly natty in the white suit with matching red pocket square, necktie and socks.
Time to address the elephant in the room. Hamlet in this production was portrayed by Molly Hood. This was neither Kelli Fox's "trouser role" (see 7/21/13 post) nor Asta Nielsen's case of mistaken gender identity (see 10/19/14 post). The play was rewritten to make the role of Hamlet female. In fact, the play was introduced as "Hamlet,
Princess of Denmark." All of the other major roles were played gender-traditional. I suppose that it's a sign of my own conservatism, but I have a problem with the entire premise. The author of the play wrote it with a male main character. Changing the gender equates to changing his words and, in places, his meter. Lord became lady, friend, and heir. Son became child. Try as I might, I cannot understand the rationale behind such a drastic rewriting of Shakespeare's work. He left us a wonderful play. Such an excessive change is beyond the realm of "directorial license."
The gender of the lead character was not the only issue. The acting across the boards was very inconsistent. Hamlet was tough to figure--one minute furious, the next wailing, the next self-mutilating and the next laughing. Maybe her insanity was not feigned. It did not make for a sympathetic portrayal, though. Claudius was well performed, understated and believable. Gertrude was utterly forgettable. Polonius was well acted as a naive fop, but the character was played as homosexual, which adds another odd dimension to an already confused production. The portrayal of Ophelia was of a young lady confused by the situation, and her emotion felt genuine. Laertes as a young urban gangster type did not work. The ghost/player king might have worked had not his lines been screamed. Finally, what was the deal with Rosencrantz and Guildenstern? They were, in a word, dreadful. Their clueless performances did nothing except to make me wish that the boat ride to England had occurred in Act I.
As the play opened, another confusion became apparent. What was the time frame for the play? It had to have been present day, if the use of smart phones was any indication. They were everywhere. Hamlet's "letters" to Ophelia were texts. There were photos sent via smart phone. While Polonius was offering farewell advice to Laertes, Ophelia texted upstage. Smart phones were used to record actions and to take "selfies." (Ugh.) Polonius, Gertrude and Claudius spent much time reading Ophelia's phone. (Oddly enough, I don't recall ever seeing Hamlet with one, though.)
In terms of Shakespeare's text, editions presented themselves early and often. There were the numerous changes to reflect the change to Hamlet's gender. There was never any discussion of Norway, and that entire subplot, including the "How all occasions" soliloquy, was removed. There was no discussion between Polonius and Reynaldo about spying on Laertes.
The intermission occurred after "Madness in great ones must not unwatched go." I'm unsure why Hamlet ran back on stage and departed after Claudius had delivered the line and had exited. It was an odd placement. In any event, the first act clocked at one hour. The advertised fifteen-minute break dragged to at least twenty-five. Overheard during the break was the following: "I like the pace. I don't like the gay thing." The speaker was bothered by the gender and metrical changes to the text as well. I concurred silently.
The second act opened with "The Mousetrap." It was among the worst portrayals of it that I have seen. It is unclear what the intent was. The players tried accenting their speech, but they were so ham-handed as to be laughable. Was it Scottish? Irish? Was it supposed to be a farce? Lucianus was so dreadfully over the top that it made me wonder. Was this an attempt to play the scene as J. Dover Wilson had described it? (See 12/28/14 post.) It could have been, but it was not done clearly enough to be recognizable.
Claudius' soliloquy was the best of the bunch in the evening. The others, i.e., all of Hamlet's, were rather blah. They wandered between comedic mugging to the audience and being merely passable. Claudius, though, was believable. (I'm not surprised that the actor has also portrayed Hamlet.)
Hamlet's visit to Gertrude brought out a new twist to the play. Polonius was dispatched with a dagger. The ghost then made his second appearance, although the dialogue was edited so severely as to make the visit pointless. At the end of the scene, the ghost turned Polonius into a spirit. This was shown by the actor covering his eyes with his hands. Then the two of them walked off stage together. It was reminiscent of the walking dead from the Classic Stage Company production (see 4/5/15 post).
Ophelia's mad scene was well played, not overly emotional but rather quite reasonable. Strangely, she sang the songs to modern melodies. The subsequent discussion between Claudius and Laertes was interrupted by what might have been a courier telling Claudius that Hamlet would see him soon. That was it. No letters, no further discussion. It was too abrupt a transition. Gertrude's announcement of Ophelia's death was, to be charitable, not good.
Ophelia's funeral provided the high comedic moment of the night. The first gravedigger, played by the actor who had portrayed Polonius, stole the scene. His accent, a clearly staged and fake southern drawl, was akin to that of George W. Bush. Fortunately, he was left enough lines to give the audience a show. Ophelia, as a ghost, walked to her own funeral, led by the priest who might have been the ghost of Hamlet's father (same actor, unclear portrayal). Line editing took a tumble here. The couplet "Let Hercules himself do what he may,/The cat will mew, and dog will have his day" was botched. Hamlet dropped the first line (intentionally or not), which destroyed the rhyme.
As Hamlet recounted the deaths of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern (Thank God!!), their spirits walked across stage. Osric appeared in a strange pimp-like outfit. Was he one of Laertes' acquaintances? He acted that way during the duel. On that point, why was there a duel? If the characters have smart phones and knives, why would they resort to an archaic sword fight? (Best to suspend disbelief, I suppose.) The mock fight included extra passes that Shakespeare did not. Gertrude drank from the poisoned chalice, not out of suicidal tendency or out of a motherly protective instinct, but because she was drunk. People were poisoned, people were stabbed, people died and the rest should have been silence. But Horatio kept talking, throwing in the line delivered to Fortinbras. With the latter's removal from the production, though, keeping those lines in was unnecessary (To whom was he speaking?) and anticlimactic. He finally stopped talking, the lights dimmed and the audience clapped.
We were not finished yet, though. Speaking of anti-climaxes, all of the ghosts reappeared on stage and had a laughable group dance number. Not to be left out, the three living cast members--Horatio and the other two bit players--had some sort of group hug/cry to the side of the stage. It was all very ludicrous. The cast members took their bows, and then, roughly two and a half hours after it began, it really was over.
While I have to give due credit to everyone who worked to put this production together, I cannot say that it is anywhere near the best productions that I have seen. Although I'm glad to have been able to see it, it was a rather confused mess. It has given me some hope, though. In this bizarre world of reworked dramatic masterpieces, I await eagerly someone's performance of Arthur Miller's new classic,
Death of a Saleswoman.
