The setting for the performance was the Lyric's Cabaret Hall, the smaller of their two venues I have visited (and the same one that held the aforementioned tribute). Most of the action occurred on a thrust stage with a tiled floor, while some of the action moved offstage or onto the upper balcony around the seating bowl. The set, described vaguely in the playbill as Elsinore in "The Present and The Past," consisted of some chairs, a small table, and a chaise longue. Audience seating was on uncomfortable, plastic folding chairs. Seat cushions were offered to those who chose to alert via smart phone the usual social media platforms of their attendance. I saw no seat cushions among the audience, a sign that the enticement was not enough. Costumes were modern dress, formal or casual depending on context.
While reading the playbill, my optimism at the evening's show was put on guard. It began with the title of the dramaturg's essay, "On Gender, Hamlet, and Theatre in the 21st Century." This production included a "woman playing the role of Hamlet," a phrase the dramaturg quoted and then denounced as "troublesome in a variety of ways." Having seen numerous productions with female leads, the essay struck me as defensive protesting. If the play is done well, the gender of the actor is irrelevant. It's when the director starts to reinvent Shakespeare that problems arise....
The play opened in the light; upper windows and early evening sunlight prevented the room from being put into darkness. While the room was not put into darkness, the play was with an invented scene to begin. Horatio opened with his speech from the end of the play, that of recounting accidental judgments, casual slaughters, and the like. Meanwhile, an entire cast of ghosts emerged to frighten Horatio. That oddity concluded, we dove into action as Claudius addressed the royal court about green memory. Shakespeare's entire castle sequence opening was omitted. Sorry, honest Francisco!
The initial appearance of Horatio (another female cast as a male) alerted the audience to a directorial gimmick that was to drag down the performance throughout. As discussed in the director's essay in the playbill, the entire play was taking place in Horatio's mind as he read about the action from records that Hamlet had kept in life, his "tables." Thus, the "recounting" that Horatio mentioned in the invented prologue was given literal meaning. The directorial decision necessitated Horatio's presence on or about stage almost the entire evening, standing back as an observer, reading the action we were seeing. (Could Hamlet have recorded events he never saw? Best not to ask.) This upstaging was distracting. To worsen matters, the portrayal of Horatio was a maudlin disaster. The character spent most of the evening looking as if he was about to burst into tears. While an interesting idea in theory, in practice such nonsense cast a pall on the rest of the action.
Back to the royal court. Claudius spoke in an even, emotionless, understated tone, much as he spoke all of his lines. There was no mention of Norway or Fortinbras, highlighting one way in which the play would be edited. (Thankfully, the "How all occasions" soliloquy was removed accordingly and not forced as in the recent UB production. See 3/14/18 post.) Polonius sought leave for his son. The portrayal of Polonius was one of the evening's highlights--subtle, scheming yet not overly foppish. The handlebar mustache (a la Snidely Whiplash) and goatee gave his costume a bit of unstated duplicity.
Hamlet entered, clad all in black. With close-cropped hair and unisex clothing, the gender of the role was not nearly as distracting as the dramaturg's essay had anticipated. In fact, the gender issue was a non-issue. M.J. Savastano did a very creditable job in the title role. Her Hamlet was Hamlet. He was well-performed and generally believable. While at times the delivery of lines seemed a bit forced, the role itself was unmarred by casting decisions. The histrionic car wreck that was Horatio was far more of a problem.
The action proceeded generally according to Shakespeare until an invented scene depicting an interlude between Hamlet and Ophelia. Polonius observed the interaction from the upper level. When he approached Ophelia, she realized she had been caught. To cover the brief liaison, she claimed to be "affrighted." The speech that followed then became a lie to cover her actions. This unfortunate decision turned Ophelia into a deceiver, no better or more sympathetic than the other characters. It also eliminated Hamlet's early displays of antic disposition.
The appearance of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern was enough to turn this audience member's stomach. Both characters were portrayed by women; not an issue in itself. One of them was dressed as a man, in a not-terribly-modern suit. The other was dressed as some sort of, to be polite, floozy. What exactly was the point? I have no idea. It is one thing to cast a female in a male role. It is quite another to change the role entirely. If the thought was to generate comic relief, it failed completely. Fortunately, the two characters are minor enough roles that they were not on stage much. It's a shame they had to be on stage at all.
Another questionable directorial decision involved the reordering of scenes from Shakespeare's Acts II and III. Polonius hid behind an arras. Hamlet delivered the "To be" soliloquy. The nunnery scene followed. Rosencrantz and Guildenstern entered (ugh). The "rogue and peasant slave" soliloquy came next. Claudius urged vigilance for "madness in great ones." Cut to Hamlet, urging the player to "speak the speech...trippingly." Time was out of joint, literally.
The progression was a mess. Consider. This Hamlet believes Polonius to be behind Ophelia's returning of favors. Hamlet is angry, as evidenced by the nunnery scene (which Horatio watched from the balcony!). Then we cut to "words, words, words," and see Hamlet interact with Polonius in a playful fashion. The "To be" soliloquy's placement as the centerpiece of the play was gone. The juxtaposition simply did not work.
The arrival of the players injected more confusion into the proceedings. For some reason, it took three players to deliver the speech about Priam. It was delivered as comedy, destroying the idea of red face and tears. This then muddies the rationale for the "rogue and peasant slave" soliloquy. If the actor does not deliver a believable, emotional speech, then how would Hamlet have a suitable contrast to describe? No matter, as the speech was edited heavily.
The blocking for "The Mousetrap" had Claudius, Gertrude, and Polonius on one side of the stage and Hamlet, Ophelia, and Horatio on the opposite side, a great way to display the two factions. There was no dumb show for Claudius to miss. The play-within-the-play was well acted. Claudius' degree of displeasure was not evident as the tone of his lines was unwavering throughout. His soliloquy was bland, and Hamlet's response was delivered on stage level instead of using the balcony. Hamlet went to visit his mother, Polonius was stabbed, the son wished Gertrude good night, and, roughly ninety minutes after they went up, the lights faded.
During the short intermission that followed, a fellow audience member asked if I was a critic reviewing the play. (The notepad and pen gave me away, I guess.) After I replied that I was taking notes for myself, she asked me a question: "Who was the woman hanging around the king?" Happy that someone else had noticed that oddity, I replied that it must have been an awkwardly placed, unnamed attendant. The character had no lines and just stood around looking out of place. I suggested that it might have been the original's Cornelius or Voltemand, who were not named in the character list. She asked if it was Osric, and I said that it probably was not as he appeared much later. Little did I know...
Meanwhile, Horatio reappeared. In character. During the intermission. Sitting off to the side, reading from Hamlet's tables. So does that mean that Hamlet wrote about an intermission in his book and we were all part of the play in Horatio's mind? Again, best not to ask.
The second act began with another invented scene. We saw Horatio deliver to Ophelia the news that Polonius had died. Terrific. Another reason to see Horatio get teary-eyed. Simultaneously, on the upper level, Hamlet read the letter calling for his death while Laertes read a letter, likely recounting the death of Polonius. Why create new scenes?
Ophelia's subsequent madness scene was one of the mildest I have seen. It was not overdone emotionally; in fact, quite the opposite. She was very well-groomed for being mad. Her songs were plentiful, and her flowers were pages torn from a diary. There was no screaming or sobbing. Considering the well of water that was Horatio, Ophelia's understated performance was a welcome relief.
A sailor appeared on stage to deliver letters from Hamlet. It was a very poor attempt at comic relief. The letter to Claudius was delivered. He and Laertes hatched their plot, while the awkward attendant stood behind and listened to the entire discussion. A third conspirator!
The gravedigger scene, Shakespeare's intended comic relief, was terribly unfunny. There was no grave; there was a table covered in a black cloth and placed atop another black cloth. Some "digging" occurred, which involved removing physical remains from under the stage and placing them into a wooden crate. The curious aspect of the scene was one of casting--the actress who played Ophelia was one of the gravediggers. It worked for the Public Theater (see 8/21/17 post). How would her body be placed into the grave this time? The laughable answer--she was cremated! Her ashes were brought out in a urn. (Historical and Christian discussions of this nonsensical plot twist must be put aside.) The irony of the gravedigger who once was Ophelia carrying the ashes that once were Ophelia was not lost on this audience member.
The appearance of Osric added another new directorial dimension. Osric was the awkward attendant who had been present throughout the evening, including during the discussion of the conspiracy. (That audience member had been right!) Osric's entrance was marked by confusion when the hat, which should have been off his (her) head, was on it. The duel that followed was straightforward if unimaginative. Somehow Laertes was stabbed through his protective vest and died. Osric ran out a side door to director knows where. The king showed no emotion when his plot was discovered. The usual players died, and the rest was silent (silence?).
Or was it? We were dragged back to the beginning of the evening as the prologue was re-staged. Horatio delivered the lines with which he had opened the play and the ghosts reappeared. Things were brought full circle. Then the 45-minute second act was over.
This Hamlet had a bit of a red herring aspect. The supposed major point of controversy, having a "woman playing the role of Hamlet," was not contentious at all. It was not the gender of Hamlet that caused this critic difficulty. That non-issue merely distracted from the more serious problem, namely the substitution of the director's judgment for that of the playwright. Inventing scenes, rearranging the order of others, changing characters--these are the true difficulties here, the true flaw of this tragedy. The effort was muddled by these non-accidental judgments, which ultimately left this production "fall'n on th' inventors' heads."
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