When I learned about the production, many months ago, I made sure to purchase a ticket on the day that they became available for general sale. I went online and selected "Best Available." What came up was a box seat that appeared to be far away from the stage. Never having visited the theatre, I looked at a seating chart. It was (and still is) confusing, so I called and spoke to a ticket agent. I was told that the seat was a very good one and that I should order it while it was available. I did. Fast forward to the night of the performance. I discovered that the seat that had been represented by the ticket agent was not what I was sold. In fact, a "very good" seat was such a bad seat that the usher would not even sit me there. Instead, she moved me to a different box seat. It was a comfortable spot (I had a box all to myself), but the view was iffy. I could see most of the stage, but the aisles, used by the actors, were completely hidden. Plus, there was a balcony railing in front of me that hindered view of the front edge of the stage. Further, there were two seats in the second row on the floor that were open the entire evening. How my original seat was the "Best Available" was beyond me. It was not a good start to the evening.
The stage was altered for this production. The thrust was enlarged (asymmetrically so), and the action was moved onto it. An impressive, beautifully-designed multi-level back wall was constructed to complete the round. (See below.) Additional seating was added on the stage level of the back wall, and two rows were added at the edges of the thrust to bring patrons into the action. While an interesting idea in theory, it struck me as silly in practice. The patrons behind the stage appeared to spend much of the evening watching the actors' backs. The seats on the sides of the stage were added in front of and on the same level as what had been sold as "front-row," undoubtedly impairing the view of those audience members. Had I chosen a front-row seat, only to discover that someone would be seated in front of me... You get the idea. Audience comfort seemed not to be of paramount importance to this company.
On to the play itself. The production was staged in an Elizabethan setting and with period costume. This fit the idea of recreating a Globe-style performance. To shorten the play to a reasonable running time, all references to Norway and Fortinbras were removed. According to the director, "the parallel revenge plots of Hamlet and Laertes give the audience the deepest experience, and contrast, of the themes of justice and revenge." I do not disagree entirely, and in terms of editing it is a very sensible alternative. One oddity was the playbill's refusal to call Claudius by name; instead he was "King of Denmark."
The next, and major, oddity was a decision to double-cast the role of Hamlet. Two actors, one male and one female, alternated the role each evening. The one that did not take the lead became Rosencrantz for the night. I learned about this two days before the trip. Fortunately, I attended on a male Hamlet night. Having to sit through another trouser job might have caused me to scrap the entire venture before it began. The director attempted to justify this casting in the playbill, but I did not buy it. I've seen it done before, and it has yet to prove effective. Thankfully, it was not an issue in the performance that I saw.
The acting was adequate if unremarkable. The lines were delivered, the action progressed, but it did not feel natural. The lines were not pronounced trippingly on the tongue. The soliloquies were labored and uninteresting. Hamlet was mad, but thankfully not overdone. Laertes especially seemed to have trouble injecting any rhythm into his performance. Polonius was the best of the bunch--foppish without being slapstick, meddling without being malignant. When he delivered his going away speech to Laertes, the son double-tracked part of the speech, a sign that Dad had told him thus a few times before. It was a clever if non-textual insertion.
When Rosencrantz and Guildenstern appeared, there seemed to be some confusion. Recall that the former was played that night by a female actor. Hamlet gave her a kiss, seemingly knowing that she was a she. It was a much different welcome than that given to Guildenstern. Shortly thereafter, though, the tandem were called "good lads." So what exactly was Rosencrantz?
In the nunnery scene, Ophelia tipped Hamlet to the presence of Polonius behind the arras. As Hamlet moved upstage toward it to exit, Ophelia gasped. Hamlet recognized that there were spies afoot and questioned, "Where's your father?" The scene concluded, and so did the first part of the play, just as Claudius spoke of "Madness in great ones."
The second part of the play opened with "The Mousetrap." There was no "inexplicable" dumb show. Hamlet paced about the stage during the performance instead of staying with Ophelia. What finally caused Claudius to demand light was not clear. There was too much movement to focus clearly on Claudius, and I knew what was coming.
Ophelia's madness scene injected a new question into the proceedings. Was she pregnant a la Stratford 2015? There was no obvious bulge, yet when Ophelia delivered the line "We must be patient," she struck herself in the lower abdomen. Was this a sign? It was too obvious to be a throwaway gesture. What was the meaning? No directorial statement was noted in the program; it was left to the individual audience member to decide.
Claudius (a.k.a. King of Denmark) delivered his soliloquy downstage, with no chapel in sight. He knelt to pray on the bare floor. Hamlet entered upstage, underneath the back wall. He moved toward Claudius as he delivered his "Now might I do it" soliloquy. I wondered why he did not go to an upper level of the set in order to make more believable the idea that he could speak without being heard. The level was used several times over, including the "Where's Polonius?" scene. Here, though, when it might have been used to good effect, the opportunity passed. Alas.
The return of Laertes was unwelcome. As he stated that he would "forbid his tears," he broke down crying. Huh? Did you hear what you just said? The conspiracy was discussed as in the text, with no relocations of dialogue. The gravediggers were enjoyable. The funeral scene with Laertes and Ophelia was a visual rhyme to the play's opening, when Hamlet was seen placing a kiss on the corpse of his father (another non-textual addition).
The climax was upon us. The role of Osric was excised entirely, and his lines were handed to a court attendant. The duel itself was clumsy. Claudius handed Laertes the unbated foil, an overt sign of their conspiracy. There were passes, hits, poisonings, death, and the rest was silence. The lights faded to black, and the evening was over.
I wonder if, having seen Hamlet so many times, I have reached the point of asking too much from the play. Am I being unfairly critical? I don't think so. A solid performance is still recognizable, as is one that is less so. While this was a valiant attempt with some nice touches, it was an uneven production marked by questionable directorial decisions. As Fortinbras might have said, "Such a sight as this...shows much amiss."
