Monday, December 7, 2015

Sweet "Prince"

Douglas Brode's novel, Sweet Prince:  The Passion of Hamlet, is now added to the ever-growing collection of all things Hamlet.  While not as overwhelmingly awful as it had been advertised to me, it certainly is a strange and not altogether pleasant entry into the Hamlet literature.

The novel is inspired by Sven Gade's silent film (see 10/19/14 post).  Typing that line alone warns the reader of the spoilers to follow, but consider the abridgment a service to save you from having to read the entire novel.  If you don't want the plot ruined, though, stop reading now.

The novel opens with a back story to the usual Hamlet narrative.  We are introduced to the same characters with whom we are familiar.  Claudius (called Fengon) and Gertrude are romantically involved, leaving Old Hamblet as a not-entirely unknowing cuckold.  Polonius and Ophelia round out the royal court.  Young Amuleth (Hamlet), child of Old Hamblet and Gertrude, is a student at Wittenberge with friends Fortinbras and Horatio.  Laertes, too, is there, although he is much the alcohol abuser and ladies' man.

The home situation reaches a boil when Hamblet dies at the point of Fengon's sword.  The death is ascribed to marauders.  A funeral and hasty marriage follow, and Brode provides a reason why this turn of events occurs and why Amuleth (soon to be Hamlet) does not rise to Denmark's throne.

The action follows the predictable Shakespearean-inspired path.  Hamlet puts on a bit of an antic disposition, for a time in the guise of a cross-dresser.  A roving group of players perform a grisly play for the members of the court, leading an offended Claudius to stagger from the room in search of light.  Hamlet visits Gertrude's chamber for the anticipated confrontation.  Suddenly, the action veers sharply a la Gade.  His film took an extraordinary liberty with Shakespeare's original:  it turned Hamlet into a princess.  Brode uses the same plot element.  We learn that Gertrude gave birth to a daughter and has been hiding this from Denmark for decades.  Following the revelation, a concealed Polonius is stabbed to death.

What follows is awkward both in the action of the story and in its written word.  The prince is now a princess, and the personal pronoun shifts from he to she.  Horatio heads out into the woods for a homosexual liaison with Hamlet and discovers the true gender of his friend.  The two engage in lovemaking described in graphic terms.  Ophelia stumbles upon the two, believes that she is seeing two men making love and staggers away, ending up in the river.  In this instance, though, she is saved from drowning by Fortinbras, on his way to the castle.

The plot for Hamlet's death is hatched with Gertrude as the chief conspirator.  The duel follows.  Hamlet unveils her true self to the entire court.  A sword fight with an unbated sword follows.  Laertes is stabbed to death on his own foil.  Gertrude drinks poison purposely to save her daughter from death.  Claudius dies at his own hand, falling on his sword.  At the moment of death, though, he unleashes yet one more shocking plot twist:  he is Hamlet's true father.  We discover that Old Hamblet had a notion of this, but he chose to believe Gertrude's lies to the contrary.

After some self-realization by Hamlet, the story ends with the four friends--Hamlet, Horatio, Ophelia and Fortinbras--as rulers of a new "modern" kingdom.  Brode alludes to this modernity extending into bedroom activities including all four of them.  The players (remember them?) ride off into the sunset and everyone lives happily ever after.

A strange novel, indeed!  In the introduction to the work, Brode discusses his writing method.  He states that all of the written dialogue is taken from one of Shakespeare's written works, be it play or sonnet.  While I did not check this (nor do I intend to), the novel read as if it were an accurate statement.  Taking Shakepeare's lines and putting them into different contexts at times came across as amateurish, though.  Old Will must have groaned to see "Once more into the breach" used by Gertrude as a come-on to Fengon for a second romantic liaison or to see Hamlet ask an amorous Horatio if her beaver is "easier than it was."  Much of the description of romantic encounters is exceedingly graphic, moreso than is truly necessary to make one's point.  It appears that Brode got caught up in the enjoyment of his writing.  I must give special note, however, to perhaps the most clever line to appear in the work:  Hamlet is called "the prince formerly known as Artist."  Bravo!

Overall, I cannot recommend this one to the general reading public, for one very important reason.  It tarnishes Shakespeare's original.  I dread the thought that someone might read this alone and think that it is representative of Hamlet.  I could recommend it to those who are familiar with Hamlet, if only to use as an example of what one can do with the story, for better and for worse.

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