Other Hamlets: Theatre of War by Justin Richards

It occurs to me that I should find a place for versions of Hamlet that appear in media other than the ones I've chosen to dissect. So from this point on, there is a good chance of my doing just that in between Scenes. Having just run through a number of scenes of David Tennant's turn in the role, I thought it might be appropriate to look at a Doctor Who (currently Tennant's most famous role) novel that makes strong use of Hamlet.

Theatre of War by Justin Richards doesn't feature Tennant's Doctor, of course, but rather Sylvester McCoy's, as part of the New Adventures, a range of books that continued the Doctor's story after the show's cancellation in 1989. The novel presents a future society obsessed with theater and a team of archaeologists who find an ancient theater-projecting machine that creates a virtual Hamlet as well as other plays. Richards has fun with Shakespeare throughout, giving voice to drama critics of the future in various text pieces, or turning some of the text into doggerel written by a fictitious future dramatist called Osterling. (The latter is by all accounts a rather poor writer, but brought people back to the theatre by embracing the technology of his time, more or less creating live action films... not too far from where theater seems to be going.)

For purposes of these articles, the plot of the novel isn't particularly relevant, but I did note down a few passages that are. On page 211, the Doctor makes the following observation about the Hamlet theatre projector: "There's a whole universe captured in there. People who think they're real but who are actually just fiction are running about saying pre-written lines about self-will and never even realizing it." Hamlet is one of several Shakespeare plays that make implicit references to the world being a play, and all of us players, and yet I hadn't really connected with that central irony until I read that sentence. The postmodern answer to Hamlet's inaction is simply that he was written that way. "Fortune", in a very real sense, is dramatic necessity, incarnated as Shakespeare himself. It's not TOO useful to go too far in that direction, but it is a legitimate take on theatre (or fiction in general; but more pronounced when that fiction is meant to be repeated).

Page 270 presents a fictitious critical essay that makes an interesting point about Shakespeare. In contrast to the fictitious Osterling, who wrote detailed stage directions because he did not work with the actors or theatre, Shakespeare's are incredibly sparse, exactly because he DID work with the actors in staging the play. This is an interesting notion, and perhaps how and why directors are now able to stage his plays in such a variety of ways. Today, the plays and their characters seem widely open to interpretation, but originally, they had Shakespeare on hand to direct them, much as Hamlet does with the Players of "The Mousetrap". What was the original intent? We will never know, and that mystery is part of the plays' longevity. The "essay" does mention how Shakespeare actually embeds stage directions in the text, offering the example of the Ghost leaving in Act I Scene 1: "See how it skulks away!". This tells the actor what he must do, and perhaps was a useful cue for actors who had to learn and stage the plays in a matter of days. Since the audience sees the Ghost skulking away, it need not be said, but one must understand how Elizabethan theatre functioned to see its necessity. It perhaps also helped members of the audience who were sitting in unadvantageous seats.

Theatre of War doesn't use Hamlet is a revolutionary way, and is not a proper critical work, but Richards does use it to make some interesting points in a format that suits him. If anything, the scenes with the Hamlet characters reminds one of Rosencrantz & Guildenstern Are Dead, in the way other characters are swept into the action of the play, a stronger current that the actual unfolding fiction. Tom Stoppard's play is one we'll have to get to at some point.

Act I Scene 4 - French Rock Opera

Johnny Hallyday's rock anthem for this Scene leaves the Ghost for later and concentrates on the King's rouse, turning it into a full-blown orgy. You can hear the song HERE, but the words follow, and then my attempt at an English translation. Excuse the doggerel. As usual, I've not tried to reproduce the meter or turn into a good song.

L'orgie
Allumer les lanternes rouges
Le palais se transforme en bouge
La viande est rouge, le vin est rouge
Le sang est rouge, les sexes bougent

Le vin couve et l’orgie s’attise
Les rires deviennent gras comme des porcs
Les voiles de deuil font du striptease
Le noir devient multicolore

refrain:
Du beau, du bon, du grand roi
Voyez mon beau père le crapaud
Du beau, du bon, du grand roi
Grossir et devenir pourceau

Les doigts gras tachent les corsages
Ils glissent de seins jusqu’en croupes
Les mains préparent le voyage
Les peaux s’appellent, les corps se groupent

D’après les mains il sont bien douze
A s’emmêler en sarabande
Ces apôtres de la partouze
Si pleins, si saouls, qu’aucun ne bande

refrain

Ce chien de roi, ce roi des chiens
La queue en baguette de tambour
Qui en rotant du vin du Rhin
Prend la reine et lui fait l’amour

refrain

The Orgy
Light all the red lanterns
The palace becomes a dive
The meat is red, the wine is red
The blood is red, sexes move

The wine smoulders and the flames of the orgy are fanned
The laughs becomes as coarse as hogs
The veils of mourning do a striptease
Black turns to many colors

refrain:
The handsome, the good, the great king
See my stepfather the toad
The handsome, the good, the great king
Fatten and become a swine

Greasy fingers stain corsages
Slip from breasts to rump
Hands prepare their voyage
Skins call each other, bodies get together

From the hands, they must be a dozen
Mixing together in a racket
These apostles of the party
So full, so drunk, that none can get an erection

refrain

This dog of a king, this king of dogs
His tail like a drumstick
That, belching the wine of the Rhine,
Takes the queen and makes love to her

refrain

Hallyday creates strong, almost surreal images that may well be in Hamlet's mind. Lanterns cast a red light that makes the scene hellish in its carnality, at once about lust and gluttony. He also brings back the irony of the funereal wedding, with black veils coming off in a most lascivious way. Animal imagery is equally dominant, in line with Hamlet later calling Claudius a beast.

Hallyday/Hamlet sings all the words except "The handsome, the good, the great king", which the chorus sings. They may be the participants of the orgy in this case. Though the line is entirely ironic, Hamlet himself cannot bring himself to say them. The rouse is much more extreme than in staged productions, but with only songs to recreate the feeling of the play, it is fitting that Hallyday has gone for the operatic.

Act I Scene 4 - Classics Illustrated

The Original
The "series for boys" continues to put heavy emphasis on the Ghost as a supernatural element, opening the scene with a splash page. Of course, it's been distilled to thing single speech, cutting almost all interaction with Horatio and Marcellus, including the notion of the King's rouse (which is not particularly age-appropriate for the original Classics Illustrated). When Hamlet decides to follow the Ghost, note how he does not draw his sword or threaten his allies in any way.
The Ghost's gesture is slightly disturbing however. As usual, Classics Illustrated reduces the play to its plot points and most famous speeches (and yet, no "rotten in the state of Denmark").

The Berkley version
Mandrake likewise doesn't take up page real estate with the King's rouse, but as his strength is in setting a mood, he does start the scene where it should. The three friends are sitting around a fire in the cold and misty wastes of his Denmark, and Hamlet looks bored. An interesting idea... has he given up hope that this Ghost is real? It would help sell the surprise of the Ghost's appearance, except that in comics, all panels exist simultaneously on the page, and readers would have seen it coming.
Though Horatio's warnings are cut from the book, Mandrake gives us a visual sense of the danger. The Ghost walks through the stream (which resonates with Ophelia's death), forcing Hamlet to take the bridge, and they are soon climbing a precarious exterior staircase. The cliff, the flood... their essence is here even if they are not mentioned. As with the classic version, Mandrake's Hamlet doesn't draw his sword in this scene.
It strikes me that this makes all the characters dramatically weaker, either ineffectual and unable to impact the story (Horatio and Marcellus), or toothless and far less dangerous (Hamlet). This is a legitimate interpretation (if rather boring). The characters ARE ineffectual. Beyond Hamlet's delay of his revenge, Horatio and Marcellus cannot resolve the Ghost's dilemma by themselves, cannot prevent Hamlet from following it (despite being two men, one of which is an armed soldier) and in Marcellus' case, dropping out of the play once he swears an oath to say nothing (indeed, a character without lines isn't really in the play). Horatio may be the play's great survivor, but one of his last moments is a failed suicide.

Not to say this is all contained in these few panels, but looking ahead to the rest of the play, these choices make some sense.

Act I Scene 4 - Tennant (2009)

Scene 4 begins with only Marcellus and Horatio in view and Hamlet popping out from behind them. The theme of the scene is surprises, and you could say every character enters from out of nowhere, especially if you're a member of the Hamlet family. The King's cannon shots, for example, actually make you jump. Not so say Claudius physically appears, but he's noisy enough to be heard in a scene in which he doesn't feature. That actually says something about the disrupting nature of the character (at least to the more quiet and contemplative Hamlet, whose father figure is, in this scene, completely silent). The staging adds fireworks to this cannon shot (in keeping with its modernism) and seems to enjoy them in spite of Hamlet's disapproval. Hamlet's speech about Danish reputation is cut, the loss of which I've decried before, but it does allow the friendship to breathe here. Horatio is not truly chided for enjoying the light show.

This is all Shakespeare's cover for the entrance of the Ghost, of course. A distraction until the next scare. The Ghost comes from behind the camera, so out of the fourth wall if you will, and very early separates Hamlet from his friends. This allows Hamlet's speech to be much more intimate as he is cornered by the corpse of his father. Usually shouting at the Ghost from a distance, the staging here creates entirely new opportunities. Hamlet actually takes on a somewhat childish voice, returned to childhood by his father's appearance. Perhaps can we see something of their relationship in this, as it is legitimate to see Hamlet Sr., as written, as a rather sinister parent.
The Ghost walks right out of Hell and into "cold" Denmark, represented by his steaming cloak. A great effect that was apparently created in the stage version as well, with Patrick Stewart being fitted with a smoke machine. The Ghost eventually points to a direction and walks towards it, with Hamlet following. The stage version scored each of the Ghost's gestures with a tolling bell, very ominous, but this is not used in the film's soundtrack.

When his friends try to stop him, he manages to draw Marcellus' dress sword out of its scabbard and threatens them with it.
A clever way to follow the stage direction despite the modern dress. They also make more of a meal out of his threatening gestures, almost stabbing Horatio, who falls to the ground to avoid the blow. It better motivates his fear in the last part of the scene. He's not just afraid of the Ghost (which he has faced twice now, after all), but of Hamlet himself. His final "Heaven will direct it" here becomes a question. He's perhaps hoping that Marcellus will let things go, but knows he'll probably follow. This makes Horatio less eager to leave his friend to his fate.

Act I Scene 3 - Tennant (2009)

Scene 3 of Gregory Doran's Hamlet is a domestic, practically normal scene that counterpoints well the drama that is to come. Though played on a bare stage, of course, the location is well used to give us a corner where Laertes and Ophelia no doubt spent their childhood hiding from their tedious father. The normalcy, especially compared to the more stylized black floor scenes, heightens this family's tragedy. This is the last time they will all be together.

Laertes starts the scene looking around, feeding the sense of paranoia inherent in the staging, despite the warmer surroundings. Ophelia helps him with last minute packing, adding a shirt to his luggage, and mostly smiling through his whole speech, perhaps not daring to believe he's right about Hamlet. He's being condescending and she lets him dig his own grave. Though I am on record saying Mariah Gale is lackluster in the role, I must confess to finding her rather engaging in this, her first scene. Ophelia, like Gertrude, is an underwritten role that requires the actress to play it all in her reactions. She certainly does that, though I still find her a little "plain" for a prince to have fallen for her. Of course, that is possibly due to the absence of any other girls his age in Elsinore. If the make-up does nothing for her, costume does. The flowery blouse ties in with Ophelia's scripted flower motif.
Edward Bennett's Laertes offers some illuminating line readings, including particular stress on the word "unvalued". The play has Laertes somewhere in the line of succession, and Getrude belatedly admits that Ophelia could have made a good wife for Hamlet. The Polonius family, whatever their nobility, are not "unvalued persons", but Laertes believes they are. Or perhaps he should have said "undervalued". It's his own hang-up, having grown up in the shadow of the prince, or if only because his father has not properly nurtured him. Certainly, Polonius' parenting style leaves something to be desired. Laertes is patronizing to his sister, because his father is patronizing to them both. That has been his model. Polonius has fed his insecurities and probably driven him away to France. Laertes thus has reason to think his sister is not "good enough" for Hamlet, which means Hamlet is not "good enough" for her (showing two different kinds of importance).

He doesn't make much of a dent in Ophelia's affections for Hamlet. She outright bursts out laughing when he awkwardly mentions her virginity, and exasperated, asks her to at least be wary. In that moment, he knows she won't shut herself off from Hamlet, so he hopes she'll at least go in with open eyes. She's of course not as naive as he thinks she is, as she proves when she takes his condoms out of his luggage and accuses him of being a reckless libertine.
A funny moment made possible by the modern dress, and speaking to a certain hypocrisy in Laertes.

Enter Polonius
Laertes quickly hides the condoms and covers his embarrassment with his "second leave" line (a refreshing break from its usual sarcasm), and soon the two children are rolling their eyes at their father's advice. At one point, he prompts them to finish his sentences (another excellent use of "passing off a line" in this adaptation). They've learned these proverbs by rote. On "rich, not gaudy", Polonius takes Laertes' colorful handkerchief from his breast pocket and throws it at Ophelia, which tells us the advice is specifically aimed at Laertes. It is so often played as a series of platitudes, it's easy to miss that Polonius might have chosen his words carefully. The condoms already showed he was sexually reckless and a hypocrite, and the handkerchief that he expresses himself in fancy. Can we thus infer that Polonius painted a portrait of him in his advice? Laertes thus: Gives his thoughts tongue and unproportioned thoughts an act; can be vulgar; dulls his palm with entertainment of each new-hatch'd, unfledged comrade; isn't very good in a quarrel, though tends to enter into them; gives few his ear, but too many his voice; takes few men's censure, but doesn't reserve his judgment; is a borrower and a lender. This reversal of Polonius' speech could be used as a template for a character that doesn't have very much stage time.

Another modernism: The second blessing is made in cash. We see more of Polonius' wrong-headed parenting here, as he replaces love with money, and then is aloof to Laertes' attempt to hug him goodbye.

In the Ophelia-Polonius exchange, Ophelia continues her smiling games, indicating that she doesn't take her father very seriously, and he's rather kind and benevolent to her, which makes it strange that she would really obey his wishes. Perhaps one must decide whether she is lying either here, when she proclaims chastity, or later, when she says she limited Hamlet's access to her. It allows Ophelia to say the words, but not mean them, and that's a legitimate (if difficult to show) way of staging it, especially for less innocent Ophelias.

I.ii. Ghost Stories - Tennant (2009)

Hamlet hears steps behind him, quickly wipes a tear and walks off camera as Horatio and the soldiers walk in. As soon as he sees who it is, we get an excited embrace. The soldiers remain at attention in the background. The staging contrasts an intimate friendship and the more hierarchical relationship between prince and soldiers and so gives us a Horatio that is closer to Hamlet than in some versions. I've spoken before of the divide that exists between the two friends, but here we get the feeling Hamlet sees Horatio as an equal.

The soldiers may well fear that admitting to seeing a ghost could lead to reprisals, which is a reasonable motivation for them to go to Horatio first. In this scene, they let him take the lead and tell THEIR story. Marcellus only jumps in when Horatio hesitates (showing he doesn't know Elsinore very well, he needs prompting as to what the location is called).
Without Horatio finding the right details to convince Hamlet, would the prince have believed this story? It's all about trust. Horatio, after all, is an educated man like he is, one not prone to superstition. Horatio has trouble bringing himself to tell the story, because it doesn't fit his/their world view. This version plays it very much like Horatio at first chickens out. "I saw him... once." He has to steel himself to finally say he saw him yesternight.

As for Hamlet, Tennant continues to play the grief as waves of sadness that sometimes assail the character, his voice breaking in points, but on an even keel otherwise. In my experience, that's exactly what grief is like. His body language changes with the talk of the ghost. He crosses his arms, a barrier of doubt between himself and the other characters. Though he tests them at first, especially the soldiers' loyalty (perhaps thinking Horatio is their dupe), he soon believes.

Cuts
There are a number of small cuts in this scene, a line here and there. One's line's absence in particular revealed something about the text. "Would I had met my dearest foe in heaven / Or ever I had seen that day, Horatio!" is cut. Usually, it comes just before "My father!--methinks I see my father". There is a dramatic irony here, as Hamlet mentions in succession heaven and his father. One line may inspire the other, but Hamlet is about to find out that his father is actually in hell. Later, he'll be unable to kill the praying Claudius from fear he would send him to heaven, which indeed would have sent his dearest foe there. Heaven and hell, another mirrored reflection in the play, and the two brothers each on the wrong side.

I.ii. Enter Hamlet - Tennant (2009)

In the exchange with Laertes, there is an interesting cut to Hamlet during this exchange has him look down at "You cannot speak of reason to the Dane", in what could be shame. He repeats the gesture after each of his more bitter lines as well. Tennant's Hamlet, at this early juncture (he holds back here, and waits to be alone to show his true self), seems ready to fully acknowledge that his feelings are not being reasonable and yet he has them. No, it's not reasonable to stubbornly hold on to his grief, but perhaps they shouldn't be. He's at once ashamed of his feelings, and unrepentant for them.

Claudius finally turns to Hamlet, joining Gertrude who has been looking at her son for a longer time. Hamlet is rather angry at his mother. Implying she is "common" is customary, but the rest of his speech is just as bitter, shocking her. That's when Claudius jumps in and at once chides him and embraces him. A lovely moment comes when he "forgets his line" and Gertrude as to fill in "Wittenberg" for him. Claudius doesn't even know where Hamlet is studying, which puts the lie to him being "most immediate". (We do have to wonder if Hamlet Sr. would have known as much, as an absentee father - part of what Stewart's dual role makes you think about.)
Penny Downie's Gertrude (I think the best I've seen) is deeply embarrassed by this, as she's subtly been trying to pull strings for Hamlet since the beginning of the scene. She's stared at Hamlet, trying to give Claudius a direction to go to. She whispers something in his ear during the Laertes exchange, perhaps "don't forget to do Hamlet next". She puts emphasis on Claudius' kinder words with her eyes. Everything she does works to get her son to stay home and accept the new status quo. And she's quick to accept Hamlet's acquiescence too.

One line that resonated with me, either because of the way Stewart isolates it or perhaps because of Hamlet's mildly nauseated reaction, is "Be as ourself in Denmark". For Hamlet, this is insulting since he sees nothing positive about his uncle. For the audience, however, there's more to that line. If Claudius has murdered a member of his own family, he is in effect asking Hamlet to do the same. Be a killer, like I am. Dramatic irony at its most delicious.

O, that this too too solid flesh would melt
As the wedding party leaves, we realize that this room in under CCTV surveillance, although again, we're never really told who's watching. It also means the coming soliloquy is seen (if not heard?) by someone, somewhere. From his work on Doctor Who, we already know Tennant is very physical actor. He proves it here once again.
He begins in his back to the audience, and quickly collapses into a fetal position, clearly struggling to get the words out. This is possibly the most grief-stricken we've seen Hamlet in these articles. Tennant has "melted" his Hamlet into the floor, in which he sees himself reflected. On exclamations of "God!", his hand on the floor seems to reach for another, accidentally aping Michelangelo. Hamlet is, in fact, he own "God". A character so deep and alive on the page, and so in control of his destiny (delaying it as he does), that he he takes on the role of the Divine in the play.

He collapses even more, practically digging into his "unweeded garden" (all images created by the actor's physicality), and only turns to us at the "two months dead" mark. From there, though he sometimes gets overwhelmed and hides his face, he speaks directly into the camera. In a kind of parallel to the whole of the play, Hamlet starts out ineffectual, hidden, despondent and isolated, but eventually reaches the point where he is capable of action and confrontation. Through the soliloquy, he goes from depressed and unapproachable to angry and confrontational. When he says "It is not nor it cannot come to good", it sounds like a threat. "I won't let it come to good - these parental types are gonna pay!"

The Stage Play
In the theater, the soliloquy was spoken upstage, back (or side) to the audience, and Hamlet never turned towards it. Of course, the back wall was a big mirror, so audience members could still see his face, depending on their seating. Still, the effect would have been similar. An unapproachable Hamlet that we are only voyeurs of, but not truly privy to.

I.ii. The Wedding Banquet - Tennant (2009)

Importing the mirrored floor from the stage version to the film location, it finds its way here, in a room that will serve many purposes throughout the adaptation. Here it is the banquet hall, but it'll soon be where Hamlet talks to the Ghost, the throne room and other, redressed spaces. Again, the mirroring in the play is highlighted by this design choice, and is also found in the casting. Though in theater, we're used to actors doubling up on small roles, the film version retains that casting. The Players, Rosencrantz & Guildenstern, Osric, etc. all have dual roles, even if you don't necessarily notice. Much more noticeable, and an example of true mirroring, is Patrick Stewart playing both the Ghost and Claudius. Two brothers more alike than Hamlet would have us believe, and yet, different in personality. Stewart's second crack at the role (the BBC's 1980 version being the other) is a much more interesting and mature take on the character. In fact, the first disappointed me, and this one is among my favorite interpretations. As he begins his coronation/wedding speech, he hypocritically chokes back a tear, his voice cracking as he talks about his brother. Soon enough, however, he's making jokes. In this performance, Claudius is well aware of the ironies of his lines ("mirth in funeral and with dirge in marriage", etc.) and uses them to make his audience chuckle. Yes, it's a crazy old world, isn't it? Stewart exudes charm, though to Hamlet, it must register as callousness. We see the young prince much earlier than we sometimes do, reacting to the whole situation, glumly, eyes in his champagne glass. Gertrude is sometimes distracted by his attitude, but mostly hangs on Claudius' words. Though Fortinbras won't appear at the end of this version, he is still a talking point. Claudius gives Cornelia (a female version of the character) and Voltimand are present and being sent to Norway to broker a peace. Something mentioned by the director in the DVD extras, but that I don't think I have, is that Claudius' first act as King is one of diplomacy. Hamlet Sr., we'll remember from the previous scene, was a warrior. Though we cannot endure fratricide, we can still ask the question: Was Claudius' coup, motivated by lust and power though it was, a necessary evil for the kingdom of Denmark? Did he, in fact, depose a warmonger? And is he not advocating a gentler, more positive role for Denmark in the world? We can ask, but Shakespeare's answer is to have Denmark invaded by Fortinbras at the end of the play. Diplomacy does not work in this world and war is the proper way to go. Then again, it may be a question of the ends not justifying the means. Claudius' sin cannot bring about a positive change. He can only harvest corrupted fruit from the "unweeded garden". After dealing with affairs of state, he turns to Hamlet "And now..." but turns on his heels "...Laertes!" Stewart pulled a similar trick in 1980, but here makes it an even more shocking slight. Laertes (played by Edward Bennett, who was also Tennant's understudy and had to take on the role on stage for a number of weeks when Tennant hurt his back) is intimidated despite the King's jollity. More than taken unawares, it seems like he was thinking of not asking at all. Oliver Ford Davies' wonderful Polonius mouths the words with him. It's all been practiced, and we definitely get the sense of Polonius' children being sheltered. Polonius takes care of every facet of their lives, and one might imagine a different Claudius acting surprised that his adviser would let his son out of his sight when he asks "Have you your father's leave? What says Polonius?"

Act I Scene 1 - Tennant (2009)

The Gregory Doran-directed 2009 production of Hamlet uses a stylized contemporary/modern dress setting that defies dating. There are modern trappings, but daggers and swords as well. It is Shakespearean in a manner that today's audiences will understand. A heightened reality. Among those modern trappings is the use of CCTV footage at various points in the television presentation.The director wanted to create a sense of hyper surveillance that would heighten the play's paranoia (in the same way Branagh's hall of mirrors does). We never quite know WHO is conducting this surveillance, an ambiguity that can be frustrating. Sometimes, it could be Polonius, but he's not clued in enough about, for example, the stuff with the Ghost. A secret police then, which we the audience are a part of. Another reason to use the CCTV camera is to create the effect of an invisible Ghost. When the Ghost appears later in Scene 1, cutting to the CCTV reveals Horatio and the soldiers talking to thin air. Another effect, especially when you consider that the first shots of the telefilm are CCTV, is to create a postmodern Denmark that seems just as foggy and spooky as the more tradition Denmark of the play. The grainy gray tones gives off a sense of cold and dreariness without the elements having to cooperate.

For the first few lines of dialog, this version of the play gives us a new spin on the words, a spin that plays on the paranoia conveyed by the CCTV. Bernardo relieves the seemingly freaked out Francisco and asks him "Have you had... quiet... guard?" He chooses his words well, wondering if Francisco has seen the Ghost but not revealing his knowledge of this apparition. Who's in on the secret? Certainly not Francisco. Bernardo doesn't want to give it away. Though we know what's coming, Shakespeare had indicated suspense was required for this scene. He has the soldiers call the Ghost a "thing" so as not to give anything away, and when we cut to talk of politics and history, it's only to give us another "scare moment" when the Ghost reappears.
Peter De Jersey's Horatio is as good as they come in the role, and not the first black man to be cast in the role (the BBC also did it in 1980). I only mention it because I just now realized how this makes Horatio less of Dane and more of a stranger (Hamlet calls him a stranger in Scene 5) and explains why he doesn't know about Danish customs. He studies in Wittenberg, but isn't from the area, just as Laertes is off to France. This is, of course, at odds with the line "I am more an ancient Roman than a Dane." Does he mean to be a Dane by adoption? Cut from this scene are references to Roman history, and Horatio protects himself with a crucifix. This is a more Christian Horatio, more in line with the philosophies taught at Wittenberg. Again, this is at odds with the "ancient Roman" line.

The Ghost
When the Ghost first appears, we don't see it. The sequence is shown from the Ghost's point of view, with the soldiers and Horatio cowering in fear before him. Again, suspense is prolonged. Horatio then goes into his recent history of the realm and the Ghost appears, this time in camera, a long ways behind the men. On the next edit, it has creeped up very closely in the flash of an eye.
Patrick Stewart plays the dual role of the Ghost and Claudius in this version, which highlights the concept of mirroring in the play (also see The Stage Play, below). Hamlet Sr. and Claudius are two brothers, both fathers to Hamlet, likely to look alike, and never share scenes. The casting is not only possible, but laudable. The strange armor he wears, using modern materials but respecting the descriptions of it in the text, is an example of how this version exists in a non-temporal Shakespearean reality.

The Stage Play
The stage play of course did not have a CCTV element, but it used lighting and set dressing to achieve similar effects. The stage featured not only a large mirrored background, but a mirrored floor as well, all part of the aforementioned concept of mirroring. Though that idea does not truly put across the idea of hyper surveillance, it does create an unsettling space where actors can be seen from multiple angles at the same time. In that way, the audience sees more than it should, which is a shadow of the same idea. As in this filmed version, the soldiers used flashlights (I'm sorry, I should say "torches") to create the lighting themselves. Reflected in the mirrors, it proved at efficient way to create the chaos of the Ghost's appearances, hiding as much as it revealed.

The mirrored floor is also featured in the telefilm, as we'll see in Scene 2.

Addition: Tennant's Hamlet (2009)

This week, I watched the Royal Shakespeare Company's production Hamlet directed by Gregory Doran and starring David Tennant and Patrick Stewart (that sound you hear is a geekgasm). The telefilm is different from the stage performance, but its essence has been preserved, and the director's very interesting commentary indicates how and why changes were made. The opportunity here, then, is to discuss both. The production is modern dress, but it doesn't attempt to set it in a truly modern world (à la Hamlet 2000). I'm happy to add it to the roster of Hamlets featured on this blog, and will run through all these scenes up to Scene 4 in the next few installments, catching it up with the others. There are plenty of excellent performances and intriguing staging ideas, and only rarely do we get the feeling that they were working on a television budget.

If I attempt a brief overall review here, I'll have to admit that this version has entered my top three favorites (along with Branagh's and Jacobi's). Tennant brings a physicality to the role and only once or twice does he become Doctorish (but then, Doctor Who is a Hamlet-like character touched by the same kind of madness, perhaps it was inevitable). Stewart redeems himself completely in the dual role of Claudius and the Ghost. I wasn't keen on his performance in the BBC's 1980 version, but he makes completely different choices here and is wonderful. In Penny Downie, we have one of the best Gertrudes I've ever seen. Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are given a new lease on life. And Oliver Ford Davies' Polonius is a new and wonderful take on the character. Only Ophelia proves a deception, but that's often the case.

Act I Scene 4 - Fodor (2007)

There's not much left of Scene 4 in Fodor's Hamlet either. As the trio waits for the witching hour, there is no cause to speak of any kind of "king's rouse". This is a particularly decadent Elsinore, and it is doubtful this Hamlet would retain his puritanical values. The three characters do not, in fact, go much beyond discussing the weather and what time it is. Horatio and Marcellus remain intriguing in their very modern aloofness, but their parts are soon over. Instead of the usual appearance of the Ghost, fearful prayers and Hamlet's headlong jump into the dark, the film goes for a more supernatural sequence. Time stands still. Hamlet notices his friends are frozen in the moment. He then has a vision of himself as a young boy, prancing through Elsinore House in the harsh white sunlight this film associates with the ghost world.
Then he is there too. Flash cuts move him from room to room, have him confront his younger self, until he is alone. And then he gets hit across the face by an invisible hand a few times before the Ghost physically appears.
This is a much more malevolent Ghost than the one we're used to, which may put even more doubt on his tale. If the Ghost is evil, did he perhaps not deserve the death he got even if he's telling the truth? Could Fodor's Hamlet delay his action for more nihilist reasons? Does it matter if his father is avenged? Is he worth avenging only in that Claudius is just as deserving of death? Does Hamlet care either way? By corrupting "Denmark" so entirely, Fodor levels the playing field between good and evil. There is, in effect, no good. If all deaths are deserved, is this still a tragedy?

And yet, there are those shots of Hamlet as a child, speaking to a happy childhood. Are we then to understand that Hamlet Sr.'s time in hell is the reason behind his present corruption? Scene 5 will have him say "I am thy father's spirit", not "thy father". What is the distinction? How far removed from the man's life is his traumatized soul? We'll try to answer these questions when we look more closely at Scene 5 itself and actually hear the Ghost speak.

Act I Scene 4 - Hamlet 2000

Act 4 is pretty much excised from Hamlet 2000, using instead wordless sequences to tell the story. The first sequence has Claudius and Gertrude getting frisky in their limo while Hamlet watches them from the facing seat.This, along with the red carpet/press walk that follows acts as the equivalent of the "King's rouse". There's clearly a party atmosphere in which Hamlet does not share, and if there's a "tradition" here, it's that of enjoying the public eye. Hamlet, when confronted with journalists, says nothing. He is completely disconnected from the way things are done. His parents, in this instance, prove to be extremely selfish beings, which is in tune with the modern view this film takes of the play's characters. There is a strong Gen X vs. Baby Boomer vibe here, where the GenXer, Hamlet, won't buy into the system promoted by his more materialistic Boomer parents. Obviously, this has nothing to do with Shakespeare's intent, nevertheless, it's an interesting filter to see the play through if one accepts it as "universal". Different impulses may have driven the generation gap in Shakespeare's day, and yet a gap did exist. Applying a modern day motivation to that gap is one way of updating the play for each successive audience.

In any case, cutting all the dialog referring to the rouse and its effect on the Danish reputation was almost necessary since it doesn't quite make sense in the world of New York's Elsinore.

Horatio and the soldiers aren't waiting with Hamlet in this version. Instead, he's crashed in his apartment, and they wake him at the appointed hour from the "platform" (or security station).
Since there is no need to explain the rouse to them, they would have little to talk about anyway. The biggest change is that they're not present to try and stop Hamlet from following his father's Ghost. Sure, it avoids mention of cliffs and other terrain not present in New York, but it also makes the entire group far less afraid of the Ghost. Once they've accepted its existence, they don't really fear it. These are characters who might have grown up on horror movies, after all. They might have been willing to be with Hamlet at the appropriate moment, but he is more remote than most other Hamlets. He has cut himself off from them in advance, and so when the Ghost shows up, they haven't yet gone up to the apartment.
Hamlet sees the Ghost on his balcony and lets out the first few lines of the "Angels and ministers of grace" prayer. There's a neat match between the word "hell" and a fiery explosion on the television. These fires continue in a loop (they're part of Hamlet's stock footage collection) through the next scene, creating a hellish, in between the moments, space for Scene 5 to take place in.

Act I Scene 4 - Kline '90

The more I move forward with this project, the less worthy Kevin Kline's performance as Hamlet becomes. I never really liked his take on it, but in comparison to the others, it's pretty ghastly. When I'm more interested in every other character, something is wrong. Worse still, I actively disagree with the director's decisions (which is also Kline). The trend continues in Scene 4, which has a major cut, taking out the speech that comes after "more in the breach than the observance". The scene loses a lot in the process. Hamlet now only tepidly disagrees with the Danish tradition and doesn't lay very much of it at Claudius' feet. Obviously, it cuts out any deeper meaning to the rouse, since Hamlet doesn't expound on it.

Horatio has an interesting line reading in this section, responding to Hamlet's claims that "The air bites shrewdly; it is very cold." with the usual "It is a nipping and an eager air." But he makes it sound like he's disagreeing with Hamlet. Not aggressively, but in a "really? you think? maybe you could say that" kind of way. Hamlet's air bites, but Horatio's only nips. "Eager air" is likewise a much more positive outlook on the situation. Two points of view are presented, one much more negative than the other. I hadn't noticed it before.

It's in this scene that the Ghost appears for the first time in this version.
He comes out of the shadows/mists and waves Hamlet forward. Not much to it. Kline's Hamlet behaves strangely however. He seems enraptured, smiling throughout the sequence. He has no fear, no apprehension (despite his lines underscoring the risk of a hellish Ghost), and doesn't hear his friends' warnings. And when he breaks away from them, he has no weapon, so "I'll make a ghost of him that lets me!" is a threat he cannot make good on. And yet they let him go. This is another of those staging problems I have with this version.

Kline's Hamlet, in my mind, is an ineffectual one. He doesn't retard the action because he overthinks, or can't decide, or is in love with his own character, but because resolving the action is beyond his abilities. This is a lame duck Hamlet. Look at this scene again through that filter. This Hamlet doesn't convince us that Claudius is corrupt based on the rouse. Horatio questions the simplest claim that it is bitterly cold outside. He lets down his guard completely when faced with the Ghost. He has no means to carry out his threat to turn Horatio and the soldiers into ghosts. And they let him go, as if he can't do any harm anyway. Everything is played to weaken Hamlet, a terrible idea, but still a legitimate one. If done on purpose, of course.

The trade-off
I find that when the performances aren't really there, I tend to listen to the text more, and for the first time, I hear clever little things Shakespeare's done. For example, in "Be thou a spirit of health or goblin damn'd", the Bard plays on the how "health" and "hell" sound the same. Hamlet calls the Ghost a "questionable shape", and follows the specter to question it. There are puns upon puns in Shakespeare's work. At least Kline allows me to discover them.

Act I Scene 4 - Zeffirelli '90

The King's rouse is played rather differently in Zeffirelli's heavily cut adaptation in that it acts as the wedding banquet (Claudius even lets out the "cannon to the heavens" line). As such, it makes it all the harder to understand what Hamlet's problem is with this tradition. One even has to wonder why one of the guards is given Horatio's line asking about the custom. It looks like any banquet, and even Ophelia attends. Zeffirelli, ever efficient, uses the scene to give several characters meaningful glances at each other - the royal couple is happy, Polonius makes ingratiating smiles at them, and Ophelia timidly responds to Gertrude's toast. While we shouldn't be surprised at Hamlet's refusal to attend (he's against the marriage itself), it is odd that these simple revels would turn the Danish nation into a laughing stock.
Most of the lines from this section are cut, but he notably ends the speech as a soliloquy. All his companions ever hear is the idea that Danes are clepped drunkards based on the custom. Everything else (cut down to its essentials, of course) is said in a private moment as Hamlet watches the party from a grate. Where other Hamlets perhaps give sermons, this one has a personal realization about the nature of a man's flaws. It plays not unlike Jacobi's, but doesn't include any others. Horatio continues to be sidelined in this version, as Hamlet doesn't let him into his innermost thoughts.
Finally, the Ghost appears. First as a face in the dark, then from afar. The viewer may not at first spot him. Though there is no doubt Horatio and the guards see something, the murky lighting and Hamlet's constant shifting between manic elation and fear support the idea of an imaginary Ghost, one that lives only in Hamlet's mind. In this version, we have no proof that Horatio and the others ever saw it. No scene presents it. And yet, this thought is not pursued by the director. Horatio remains in the background, and the Ghost's reality is not questioned.

Another change is that the Ghost is not wearing armor (and all descriptions of such have been cut). This Hamlet Sr. is not a warrior and there are no Pollack Wars mentioned as a context. He seems old and dressed as a monk. Instead of an absent but glorified father, we have a man who might not have been able to properly service his too-young wife, and whose piety and morals are espoused by his son. It changes the whole dynamic of the Hamlet family. As written, Hamlet cannot really know how good his father was, making the Ghost's ambiguity Hamlet Sr.'s as well. Hamlet becomes a scholar and doesn't follow in his father's footsteps. There is a rebellion there that is continued in the mistrust he shows the Ghost, and that may have generated guilt that informs his grief. Claudius would have swooped in while his brother was away. Here, there is no real sense that Senior was absent (the Gravedigger's mention of the wars has no lasting resonance) from his son's life, only his wife's (sexually, whether because of age or morality). Hamlet is using his father as more of a moral compass, explaining his own prudish ideas, but also making the Ghost more sympathetic (as we'll see in the next scene), a victim to be pitied. Claudius and Gertrude are more brazen in their affair.

The scene ends with Hamlet breathlessly following the Ghost through the bowels of the castle, his sword always in front of him as the others lose sight of both.

Act I Scene 4 - BBC '80

Despite being studio-bound, the BBC/Jacobi version does a good job of making Denmark look freezing. By keeping the actors in a single position (instead of the walk-and-talk or pacing stagings previously seen), we get a better sense of them waiting for the Ghost to arrive. In a more dynamic staging, the Ghost seems to appear as soon as the players are in all in place, or at worse, done with their rants about the Danish reputation. Here, Horatio loses track of time because he doesn't know how long they've been there, and all three men are paranoid, turning around at every little noise, hoping or fearing that the Ghost has come. In that context, Hamlet's speech about his uncle's debauchery is just a way of filling up the time. And in that context, the lines do take on added meaning.

I am especially interested in Hamlet's thoughts on the nature of guilt. He says "As, in their birth--wherein they are not guilty, Since nature cannot choose his origin--". If Hamlet indeed believes that a person cannot be truly guilty of his crimes because he was born to commit them, it helps explain his ambivalent relationship towards his revenge. The true fault lies with nature or fortune (with God?), not with Man. Compare with his apology to Laertes in which he blames his madness and not himself. Later in the scene, his "fate cries out", again giving fortune the largest responsibility for events. There is a contradiction at play here: If no one is truly guilty, then how can he blame the King's behavior for the bad reputation laid at Danish feet? How is responsibility handed out in this world? Above all, perhaps, Hamlet is a play about a man talking things through, thinking out loud, and debating himself. He forms opinions right in front of the viewer/reader. he may well contradict himself, but by play's end, we hope to find the more complete individual (and we do).

There is a telling moment in Jacobi's performance when they all stop for a noise, determine it is a false alarm, and he just continues on with his speech. On the surface, he appears to be keeping a brave face, but is this really his own nature-given defect? Intellectualizing, talking rather than acting, etc.? In this speech about corruption of character, he is showing us his own flaw.
Then, the Ghost arrives. An interesting gesture from Horatio here, with the hands clasped in prayer. A real change from the unbeliever of Scene 1, chuckling at these stories of ghosts. Of course, one of the few cuts from this version included Horatio's allusions to pagan Rome, so he more clearly painted as a Christian.
As for Hamlet, there is an interesting line reading in "I'll call thee Hamlet, King, father" at the end of which Jacobi adds a question mark. "I'll call thee Hamlet, King, father?" Who IS this Ghost? If he is "Hamlet", it plays on the idea of being his own madness and thus himself. If "King", then he will rule over Hamlet, regardless of whether is the Ghost of Hamlet Sr. returned or a goblin damned. If "Father", then as true Ghost. Jacobi does well to play on this ambiguity, also giving fodder for those who would call into question Hamlet's true genetic origins. (For the truly tragic ending has Hamlet kill his true father.)

Act I Scene 4 - Olivier '48

Visually, Hamlet is already teetering on the edge - of sanity - as we come into Scene 4. He's still rather calm and Horatio is at best matter-of-fact, as per their usual characterizations in this film. It continues the feeling set up in Scene 1 that the supernatural is a normal part of this world.

This time, we see the King's rouse, albeit from afar, down in the courtyard.
So we can trust Hamlet's take on events a lot more, and in any case, the party doesn't take on the feeling of a private orgy it does in Branagh's version. And Olivier doesn't play Hamlet's speech as a rant either, but more as a reflection. He isn't outraged, but perhaps more disappointed in his own countrymen's reputation. The pauses he takes makes it all seem like a new idea rather than an old point of contention. Branagh's Hamlet had rehearsed the speech a hundred times in his head (which certainly fits the idea of Hamlet as a Player), but Olivier's speaks/hears it for the first time (more in line with Bloom's "characters overhearing themselves" concept.

The Ghost's arrival is heralded by a sense of anxiety created by a pulsing heartbeat that makes the camera go in and out of focus on Hamlet.
Along with Hamlet's suicidal tendencies shown at the top of the scene through its staging, this camera trick helps create a point of view for the character. Is he in fact insane? He's certainly unstable, and Horatio will be right to fear that the Ghost will drawn him "into madness". One answer to the reality/unreality of the Ghost is that it is real (in this supernatural world), not a figment of Hamlet's madness, but responsible for it. He only needs a small push, and this apparition gives Hamlet one more ball to juggle in his already confused mind. However, while supernatural is accepted by the characters, we might still believe it to be the result of superstition. In that case, the Ghost's appearance is merely a by-product of their point of view, and the modern viewer could say it was due to a trick of the light and the fog. And when it speaks, it is Hamlet's madness that speaks (but then the end of Scene 5 might be problematic). Certainly, this image of the Ghost is indistinct enough to support that interpretation.
Hamlet pulls out his sword to "make a ghost that lets" him, but also uses it as a cross to protect himself from evil before taking off after the Ghost.
The last exchange between Horatio and Marcellus is cut from this version (just as a number of words are changed, "clep" to "call" is a particularly annoying example), again supporting Hamlet's point of view through this scene. He wouldn't have heard them. The effect on plot is minimal, though it does remove some well-known lines. This version of the film continues to marginalize these secondary characters in favor of Hamlet, which is a perfectly legitimate way of addressing the play's length.

Act I Scene 4 - Branagh '96

Branagh's version of the scene is without a doubt where I got my impression of disjointed time playing tricks on Horatio, because Nicholas Farrell puts a strong spin on the exchange. Hamlet looks at him impatiently, and he admits to not having heard the clock stroke twelve. Might they have missed the Ghost due to his absent-mindedness?

The King's rouse has started, we hear the cannons fire, and Hamlet is forced to explain the ritual. That's twice in a row Horatio doesn't seem to know what's going on. Should we infer anything from this? We discussed how he must be at least in part a stranger to Elsinore or the Court in the previous article, but it strikes me that there is also a dramatic device at play. In Scene 1, Horatio had difficulty accepting a non-rational universe, one in which a Ghost could exist. As we near the moment of the Ghost's return, we once again enter that non-rational domain and Horatio is lost. The voice of reason has no place here. Shakespeare may be using Horatio's confusion to destabilize the audience. After all, he is something of an audience identifier figure who gets things explained to him, etc.

Branagh chooses here to show us the Claudius' rouse, but is the camera's point of view trustworthy? After all, Hamlet is telling us about it, and he isn't there, placing doubt on these images of Claudius knocking back glass after glass before throwing the Queen on a bed in full view of his ministers.
That last bit is especially incendiary, and based on the subject matter, there's reason to believe it's part of Hamlet's imagination. Even in the play as written, without the benefit of film editing, we only get Hamlet's version of these events. He may be laying it on a bit thick because of his general dislike (is that too weak a word) for Claudius.

I now strikes me that while "the stamp of one defect" is literally about Claudius and ironically about Hamlet (again, see previous article), it also applies to Hamlet Sr. This is a man we are about to hear speak for the first time in the play, and who has been in turn deified and humanized by his son, who by all accounts was a goodly king (but also just "a man"). What defect did he carry? And what corruption stemmed from it? One of the questions of the play is the nature of Hamlet's relationship to his father, who seems to have been absent for most of his life, off to the wars. Is this the defect that helps form Hamlet's opinion about this, and indeed, the one that led to his ruination (absence or cold distance that allowed his wife to fall for Claudius)? We continue to look for clues.
Another element we can look at is Hamlet's moral outrage. He sets himself up as the defender of Danish character, while Claudius gives himself over to debauched tradition. Hamlet is presented as a politicized individual who is "princely" for seeing the bigger picture and recognizing that the King is the head of the state, corruption in one spreading through the other. Or in this case, replace corruption by reputation. It is this moral sensitivity that may explain why he doesn't take to murder very easily.

Branagh's film makes a change from the play in this scene by placing the "Angels and ministers" speech at the end, when Hamlet has left his friends behind (so really, at the start of Scene 5) rather than at the Ghost's appearance. This creates greater urgency, making Hamlet want to follow the Ghost almost immediately and causing Horatio and Marcellus to fear for his sanity, where the text would have him cast a protective spell at the first sign of the supernatural. No, instead, Branagh gives us a running prayer through the woods, and a hellish montage of bubbling smoke, fiery eruptions, cracking earth and funereal memories.
It is a very literal descent into hell. The Ghost does not so much crawl out of hell to meet Hamlet, but brings a part of hell with him. They meet at some halfway point, but then, isn't Denmark rotten enough that it has merged with hell itself? The furious pace of the prayer sends us headlong into the very precipice Horatio sought to avoid, and the images so bizarre compared to the relatively rational reality of the rest of the play/film, that we wonder if we can trust Hamlet's point of view. Is this a product of insanity (again, the fact that others see the Ghost complicates matters). I will at this point criticize Hamlet Sr.'s Santa suit, which pulls me right out of the experience when I see it.
In any case, placing the prayer at the end of the scene (of if you like, at the start of the next) makes Hamlet follow "What should we do?" with "Where wilt thou lead me?", Hamlet lost and his soul in play.