Hamlet
at the Maidment Theatre
26.05.2003
By PETER CALDER
Shakespeare's
enduring appeal resides, in part at least, in his receptiveness
to reinterpretation. And any production needs to invest the play
with new life, making the ancient seem modern and the familiar
shockingly new.
Michael
Hurst's new Hamlet--his first Shakespeare since he took on the
same play almost nine years ago--reinvents the famous tragedy
and not just because it's done in "modern" dress: in
fact, the design, which allows cellphones and digital cameras
to share the stage with broadswords and silver goblets, is disquietingly
timeless.
In
deciding what to take out of a work which, in full, would run
four hours, under Hurst's direction it becomes a sleek, dark drama
about a dysfunctional family.
Shorn
of its political subplot, it comes to this: Hamlet's mother married
his uncle Claudius, who is his father's killer. Hamlet--like Hurst,
a man at mid-life, and barely younger than Claudius--is, to put
it mildly, having trouble adjusting to the idea.
In
this highly charged environment, Hurst's Hamlet is a man in whom
contrary emotions dance with a horrible grace: his grief has a
playful streak (at comic moments he recalls a young Stan Laurel),
his detachment wars with his thirst for revenge, his assumed madness
conceals a keen and scheming intelligence. Thus he makes a fascinating,
unpredictable prince--the soliloquies, in particular "Who
calls me villain?" at the end of Act II, showcase a huge
range and control of tone.
But
the characterisation, the result of a collaboration between Hurst
and Large Group associate director Christian Penny, has an irresistible
emotional logic and lines worn by overuse sound contemporary and
vernacular.
Spread
across John Verryt's flexible, raked, black-on-black set, this
is a stylish affair, indeed, in which characters enter and exit
as if being faded in and out of a movie. The ghost, a rib-rattling
presence like Darth Vader at the disco, works on the principle
that the supernatural is best heard and not seen and is genuinely
unsettling.
Among
the living, Hurst is ably supported by Elizabeth Hawthorne's preening
but brittle Gertrude, particularly in a closet scene rich in eerie
sexual overtones.
David
Aston's Polonius--reptilian and greasy yet still pompous and tedious--is
a standout and younger players, too--Kip Chapman's honest Laertes
and Anna Hewlett's heart-rending Ophelia--are excellent. Ray Trickitt's
Claudius is the cast's sole blemish: he growls monotonously through
a clenched jaw and at times it's not at all clear that he's speaking
English.
But
comedians Jason Hoyte and Jonathan Brugh (the latter in particular)
are an inspired piece of casting as Rosencrantz and Guildenstern
and, later, two hilarious gravediggers.
This
is the first production of what is planned as an ensemble company.
Here's hoping the Large Group's plan ripens.
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2003, New Zealand Herald |