“One of
the best bits of advice I was ever given was from [former Royal Court Theatre
Artistic Director] Max Stafford-Clark, who I AD’d for back in the day. He said
that the best thing to do with new works is to treat them as though they’re
classics, to give them the respect they deserve; and the best thing to do with
classics is to treat them as if they’re new works. I mean, it’s a funny thought
but Hamlet had the first night one time!” – Director Iain Sinclair
*
I’ve seen a
lot of Hamlets. On stage. On film. Filmed versions of staged productions. They
have nothing in common but the story. It’s rare – even on stage – for the full
text to remain.
It’s hard for
me to walk into Hamlet without baggage. How will Jacob Collins-Levy
compare to Josh McConville or Ewan Leslie or Leon Ford? Or Branagh or Tennant
or Gibson? And on, and on.
And style
choices? Where are we in place and time? Is there a central conceit to try to
wrestle the most enduring play text in the English-speaking world into a new
form?
And how
will this story that I know so well hit? Spoilers, everyone dies in the end. So,
do I see Hamlet time and time again just to watch the pieces fall into their
inevitable place? Yes, and to listen to that language and hear those words and
wonder if they will strike me differently.
Director
Iain Sinclair’s production for Melbourne Shakespeare Company struck me
differently.
Performed
in the round at Fortyfive Downstairs, there is no set to speak of, and only
judiciously used and wielded props. Two tables staged at opposite corners,
though not in the main playing space, are covered in candles and melted wax.
They are evocative of those coldly furnished marriage tables that Shakespeare
describes, but they also become altars to lost characters throughout.
The actors
are dressed in modern garb. Suits for Claudius and Polonius. Jeans and a white collared
shirt for Ophelia. Hamlet all in black. Classic ensembles, really. The truly
modern things are the mobile phones, which become the most fun addition to a
Shakespeare adaptation since Baz Luhrman branded the guns in Romeo + Juliet as Daggers,
Rapiers and Broadswords.
How can you
not love Polonius standing in front of Ophelia saying “I would not… have you so
slander any moment leisure, as to give words or talk with the Lord Hamlet”
while holding his hand out, waiting for his daughter to hand over her iPhone?
And then impatiently waiting for her to punch in her password so he can read
the texts the Prince has sent her.
But where I’ve
seen productions that overlay a heavy surveillance state aesthetic on the
production and the costuming, the choices in Sinclair’s production are
altogether more subtle. Yes, everyone might be on their phones. But Polonius still
listens to Hamlet and his mother from behind a curtain, even if it’s one of the
black theatre drapes around the sides of the theatre.
His boldest
choice is in how the text is treated, I think. The potency of the language is
downplayed. The big speeches are still there, but some lines are tossed off
like errant or wayward thoughts. Back when Hamlet had that first night
ever, you were there for the story, not this dialogue that is now so steeped in
expectation as to sometimes come off as over-wrought or over emphasised. You
came here for this speech, now let me give. it. to. you. full. force.
Sinclair
also has actors sitting in the audience before the play begins. Rosencrantz and
Guildenstern and one of the Players are in the front row taking selfies before
the opening scene. The King and Queen will later join the audience while they
watch Hamlet’s “The Mousetrap”. And once characters start dying off, they
disappear into the seating bank. Haunting the rest of the show.
This production
wrings the emotion out of people losing loved ones. The tragedy of watching
the pieces fall into place is one thing. Actually feeling devastated in the
theatre watching Hamlet? Not something I’ve ever experienced as much as
here.
Final lines
are played as if the characters are already dead. Polonius dies off stage but
he wanders back into the centre of the playing space to let us know “I am slain”
before taking a seat to watch the rest of the show. Gertrude’s “I am poison’d” is
matter-of-fact. She doesn’t have to remind us what happened. We saw her drink
the drink. And she takes her place in the audience, too.
As more and
more die and glimpse their loved ones watching, the traumatic movements of
Shakespeare’s final act start of accumulate. I was moved to tears.
Because the
stage is bare, much of the theatrical magic comes from Natalia Velasco Moreno’s
lighting design – which stretches from the overhead grid to the torches on the
characters’ phones. These low light moments coupled with Grace Ferguson’s sound
design leads to bone-chilling scenes when the ghost appears, especially at the
opening. The characters are scared and so are we.
Aisha
Aidara’s Ophelia is so grounded and funny early on, especially when hanging out
with her brother, Laertes (Laurence Bohxall), before he ships off. Her descent
into post-break up distress is carefully controlled, too. She doesn’t just
snap. Her breakdown is heart-rending.
Darren
Gilshenan plays Polonius as a typical dad. Yes, he’s over protective, but he
can have a laugh. When listing off advice to Laertes, the kids repeat the lines
with him, as if they’ve heard it all before. His recitation of Ophelia’s
messages to Hamlet while being confused by the smart phone is a joy. And his
line-reading of “brevity is the soul of wit” is played for such laughs, since
he’s been blathering on for ages before that.
Natasha
Herbert’s Gertrude stalks around the stage like she owns the place. She’s
suitably fierce and perfectly scared when Hamlet starts to threaten her. Peter
Houghton’s Claudius is desperately clinging onto power, but the power he does
still have comes out full force when he’s allowed moments on stage alone.
Jacob
Collins-Levy’s turn as Hamlet is part disaffected youth, part angry young man. He’s
barely on stage as he begins the to be or not to be monologue – staring into
an audience member’s soul, stepping out of sight on “not to be”. He tentatively
moves centre stage as he goes through it, these famous lines coming out as if they
have never been thought before, let alone said. It’s slow, almost quiet at the
start, but soon the momentum picks up and he’s on fire by the end.
I think Collins-Levy’s
performance encapsulates the tone that Sinclair wants. It’s naturalistic. It’s
down-to-earth. But when these characters have something to say, it’s full of real
human anger. The actors don’t have to project to the cheap seats here. And even
though this is not a new play, many of these words are said like we’ve never
heard them before.
Sinclair
took Max Stafford-Clark’s advice and treated Hamlet, of all things, like
it was new. I saw it anew last night. And this one will sit with me for a
while. And we shall not look upon its like again… not anytime soon.
- Keith Gow, Theatre First
Hamlet is on at Fortyfive Downstairs until September 22
Photos: Ben Andrews, The Maybe Pile
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