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pameladeanA description of Acts I and II is here.
So, then, to Act III. The scene with Claudius and Gertrude in which they got not much information from Rosencrantz and Guildenstern was cut very short, down to the bare facts, but R and G managed to look unhappy and reluctant. The following conversation was also cut, but Gertrude did get her kindly moment with Ophelia, and her little speech beginning, "And for your part, Ophelia," was affecting; the actors did very well in the limited time they had in creating a strong sense of mutual sympathy.
Claudius's "How smart a lash that speech doth give my conscience" was also left alone. He sounded notably less slick and polished than he had in any conversation, including those with Gertrude.
"To be or not to be" was handled well enough but not, as far as I can recall, with any startlingly original moments, for good or ill. It was fairly quiet, which I appreciated. Some Hamlets yell all their soliloquies. The conversation with Ophelia was cut, but not until after its opening remarks. This was a very painful scene, all repressed emotion on Ophelia's part and an amiable beginning with a sharp change to profound hostility on Hamlet's. There was not as much physical assault as I have seen in many productions, which was fine by me, as the emotional one is plenty and there is no need to dress it all up, as if audiences couldn't figure out what was going on.
The shape of the moment when Ophelia answers Hamlet's "Where's your father?" with "At home, my lord," was very like that when Hamlet asked what Rosencrantz and Guildenstern were doing at Elsinore and Rosencrantz lied to him. Hamlet was more bewildered than really hateful before this moment, but after that he lost it completely. Ophelia was devastated by the encounter and sank down onto the same bench, at the back of the main level of the stage, that she was sitting on in the opening court scene. I've never seen Claudius and Polonius ignore her so completely as those two did; usually they are tardy about it but eventually comfort her, but here they hardly looked at her. Patrick Stewart's "Madness in great ones must not unwatched go" is spoken very gently, but this Claudius spat it out like rocks.
Hamlet's instructions to the players were severely cut, but he did get to tell the clowns to say no more than was set down for them.
I was not happy that his moment with Horatio, beginning with "Horatio, thou art e'en as just a man as e'er my conversation coped withal" also ended with that remark; Horatio said, somewhat foolishly, "Oh, my dear lord," and that was that; they went on to the practicalities of catching the conscience of the King. Since most other conversations between Horatio and Hamlet had been or would be cut as well, the "more an antique Roman than a Dane" business at the end seemed to come out of nowhere. It's a pity.
The dumbshow was retained, pleasingly, though a lot of Hamlet's snide remarks were cut. Unfortunately, Ophelia was seated with her back to us, so the effect of that scene was a little blunted. I do recall that he was quite overt about "country matters," separating the syllables to make the meaning clear, so that some members of the audience exclaimed. "The Mousetrap" (all right, all right, "The Murder of Gonzago") was splendid. Sally Wingert, Stephen Yoakum, and Richard Iglewski, who were among the core members of the Guthrie company when I had season tickets, and for whom I maintain an abiding fondness, were the queen and king and the wicked uncle, and they were left quite a lot of the lovely florid speeches to play with. I wasn't paying quite as much attention to what was going on up on the balcony with Claudius as I ought to have, and hope that Eric will be able to fill in that bit at some point.
After everybody left, Hamlet was brandishing a pistol, which was fairly startling; but of course they had to cut "I will speak daggers to her but use none," and the whole speech, not being in fact whole, felt rather ragged and peculiar.
The scene with Rosencrantz and Guildenstern and the flute was cut thoroughly, and I was sorry to miss "my wit's diseased" in particular. R and G did very well with what remained to them, appearing thoroughly hapless and trapped. This appearance continued when Claudius ordered them to get ready to go to England; they made a number of inarticulate attempts to protest, but were not heeded.
The prayer scene was amazing. Though I can't recall how at this point, we had been made aware earlier of Claudius's wedding ring. When he said, "My crown, mine own ambition, and my queen," he touched the ring, and when he settled in to pray seriously, he took off the ring and laid it on the bit of furniture he was praying before. Hamlet appeared on the balcony, brandishing his pistol again, and I must admit that while I didn't care for the alterations in the words necessitated by the substitution of guns for swords and daggers, I did get an eerie feeling that Hamlet might really "do it," that things might go awry. Similarly, even though I've read the play a hundred times, the moment when Claudius stood up, said, "Words without thoughts never to heaven go," and then put the ring back on, was harrowing, as if really this time he might have done differently.
The bedroom scene was very well done. Gertrude had put framed photographs of both her husbands on her bedside table, and these were used rather more naturally than the miniatures worn around the neck often are. The scene was intense but not hysterical, which was a relief. And finally, thanks be to all the guardians of theater, there was no Freudian scene of simulated humping. I was so relieved and delighted. A lot was cut, to which I was no more resigned than at the beginning, but the shape of the scene remained and the emotions were well conveyed. The family resemblance regarding having a nervous disposition was well displayed.
The audience did not take to "at your age, the heyday in the blood is tame, it's humble." There was quite a lot of murmuring, of the general form of "Yeah, right." I was told later that the actor's concept was that this Hamlet was "just a kid," and this bit in particular really brought that out.
It's fairly common for Gertrude to take Hamlet's advice about distancing herself from Claudius to heart, and to begin in the next scene, where she tells him what happened to Polonius, but this Gertrude did not do that. She said Hamlet was mad, and may well have believed it, regardless of his claim to be mad only in craft. Claudius's aspect is often much changed at this point as well, after his prayer fails, but this one sounded much as before. The transformation did happen later on. Claudius did not lose it when Hamlet was being insolent with him over the matter of Polonius's body, but several masks had come off Hamlet by that point. The audience liked "seek him in the other place yourself."
The transformation of Claudius had not taken place even when he said, "Do it, England." It's as if he were in a daze and had not yet caught up to what his surrendered conscience said that he must do.
It was in the scene when Hamlet questions the soldier of Fortinbras that I realized that all the cutting of the text had pretty much removed the disease imagery that is so much a part of the flavor of the play. They cut the "imposthume" line, not important in itself, but they had cut so many other similar references that suddenly a great gap seemed to open in the structure of the emotions of the play.
"How all occasions do inform against me" was done intensely but not hysterically. And then the curtain came down for intermission.
I'll put this up and then do the end, I think.
P.
So, then, to Act III. The scene with Claudius and Gertrude in which they got not much information from Rosencrantz and Guildenstern was cut very short, down to the bare facts, but R and G managed to look unhappy and reluctant. The following conversation was also cut, but Gertrude did get her kindly moment with Ophelia, and her little speech beginning, "And for your part, Ophelia," was affecting; the actors did very well in the limited time they had in creating a strong sense of mutual sympathy.
Claudius's "How smart a lash that speech doth give my conscience" was also left alone. He sounded notably less slick and polished than he had in any conversation, including those with Gertrude.
"To be or not to be" was handled well enough but not, as far as I can recall, with any startlingly original moments, for good or ill. It was fairly quiet, which I appreciated. Some Hamlets yell all their soliloquies. The conversation with Ophelia was cut, but not until after its opening remarks. This was a very painful scene, all repressed emotion on Ophelia's part and an amiable beginning with a sharp change to profound hostility on Hamlet's. There was not as much physical assault as I have seen in many productions, which was fine by me, as the emotional one is plenty and there is no need to dress it all up, as if audiences couldn't figure out what was going on.
The shape of the moment when Ophelia answers Hamlet's "Where's your father?" with "At home, my lord," was very like that when Hamlet asked what Rosencrantz and Guildenstern were doing at Elsinore and Rosencrantz lied to him. Hamlet was more bewildered than really hateful before this moment, but after that he lost it completely. Ophelia was devastated by the encounter and sank down onto the same bench, at the back of the main level of the stage, that she was sitting on in the opening court scene. I've never seen Claudius and Polonius ignore her so completely as those two did; usually they are tardy about it but eventually comfort her, but here they hardly looked at her. Patrick Stewart's "Madness in great ones must not unwatched go" is spoken very gently, but this Claudius spat it out like rocks.
Hamlet's instructions to the players were severely cut, but he did get to tell the clowns to say no more than was set down for them.
I was not happy that his moment with Horatio, beginning with "Horatio, thou art e'en as just a man as e'er my conversation coped withal" also ended with that remark; Horatio said, somewhat foolishly, "Oh, my dear lord," and that was that; they went on to the practicalities of catching the conscience of the King. Since most other conversations between Horatio and Hamlet had been or would be cut as well, the "more an antique Roman than a Dane" business at the end seemed to come out of nowhere. It's a pity.
The dumbshow was retained, pleasingly, though a lot of Hamlet's snide remarks were cut. Unfortunately, Ophelia was seated with her back to us, so the effect of that scene was a little blunted. I do recall that he was quite overt about "country matters," separating the syllables to make the meaning clear, so that some members of the audience exclaimed. "The Mousetrap" (all right, all right, "The Murder of Gonzago") was splendid. Sally Wingert, Stephen Yoakum, and Richard Iglewski, who were among the core members of the Guthrie company when I had season tickets, and for whom I maintain an abiding fondness, were the queen and king and the wicked uncle, and they were left quite a lot of the lovely florid speeches to play with. I wasn't paying quite as much attention to what was going on up on the balcony with Claudius as I ought to have, and hope that Eric will be able to fill in that bit at some point.
After everybody left, Hamlet was brandishing a pistol, which was fairly startling; but of course they had to cut "I will speak daggers to her but use none," and the whole speech, not being in fact whole, felt rather ragged and peculiar.
The scene with Rosencrantz and Guildenstern and the flute was cut thoroughly, and I was sorry to miss "my wit's diseased" in particular. R and G did very well with what remained to them, appearing thoroughly hapless and trapped. This appearance continued when Claudius ordered them to get ready to go to England; they made a number of inarticulate attempts to protest, but were not heeded.
The prayer scene was amazing. Though I can't recall how at this point, we had been made aware earlier of Claudius's wedding ring. When he said, "My crown, mine own ambition, and my queen," he touched the ring, and when he settled in to pray seriously, he took off the ring and laid it on the bit of furniture he was praying before. Hamlet appeared on the balcony, brandishing his pistol again, and I must admit that while I didn't care for the alterations in the words necessitated by the substitution of guns for swords and daggers, I did get an eerie feeling that Hamlet might really "do it," that things might go awry. Similarly, even though I've read the play a hundred times, the moment when Claudius stood up, said, "Words without thoughts never to heaven go," and then put the ring back on, was harrowing, as if really this time he might have done differently.
The bedroom scene was very well done. Gertrude had put framed photographs of both her husbands on her bedside table, and these were used rather more naturally than the miniatures worn around the neck often are. The scene was intense but not hysterical, which was a relief. And finally, thanks be to all the guardians of theater, there was no Freudian scene of simulated humping. I was so relieved and delighted. A lot was cut, to which I was no more resigned than at the beginning, but the shape of the scene remained and the emotions were well conveyed. The family resemblance regarding having a nervous disposition was well displayed.
The audience did not take to "at your age, the heyday in the blood is tame, it's humble." There was quite a lot of murmuring, of the general form of "Yeah, right." I was told later that the actor's concept was that this Hamlet was "just a kid," and this bit in particular really brought that out.
It's fairly common for Gertrude to take Hamlet's advice about distancing herself from Claudius to heart, and to begin in the next scene, where she tells him what happened to Polonius, but this Gertrude did not do that. She said Hamlet was mad, and may well have believed it, regardless of his claim to be mad only in craft. Claudius's aspect is often much changed at this point as well, after his prayer fails, but this one sounded much as before. The transformation did happen later on. Claudius did not lose it when Hamlet was being insolent with him over the matter of Polonius's body, but several masks had come off Hamlet by that point. The audience liked "seek him in the other place yourself."
The transformation of Claudius had not taken place even when he said, "Do it, England." It's as if he were in a daze and had not yet caught up to what his surrendered conscience said that he must do.
It was in the scene when Hamlet questions the soldier of Fortinbras that I realized that all the cutting of the text had pretty much removed the disease imagery that is so much a part of the flavor of the play. They cut the "imposthume" line, not important in itself, but they had cut so many other similar references that suddenly a great gap seemed to open in the structure of the emotions of the play.
"How all occasions do inform against me" was done intensely but not hysterically. And then the curtain came down for intermission.
I'll put this up and then do the end, I think.
P.
