#Polonius probably hates everything about this

[withasideofshakespeare]

I am a Hamlet-Horatio-Ophelia polyam truther because I think that Ophelia is necessary to get Hamlet (the world’s worst overthinker) and Horatio (who can hardly take a compliment much less ask someone out) together.

They both go to her (Hamlet’s gf, Horatio’s qpp) for relationship advice and she keeps setting them up on dates so they’ll just get together already.

#hamlet #shakespeare #wingman ophelia is my favorite hc #i feel like she’d be really good at it #Polonius probably hates everything about this #also horatio and ophelia probably need each other to survive dating their wonderful but also really annoying shared partner #i don’t know if the three of them have a ship name #I’m not entirely sure that hamlet and ophelia have a ship name #so… #hamratio #hamlet & ophelia #and queer platonic ophelia & horatio #they hardly speak in canon but I love them #i have been informed that the ship name for all three of them is H2O #holy shit I love that it so much

[meta-squash]

Brick Club 1.3.7 “The Wisdom Of Tholomyes”

Oh my god there’s so much in this chapter, I’m so sorry for how long this is.

It’s probably just me, but this speech, or at least the beginning of it, reminds me of the way Shakespeare tends to write characters that are obnoxiously lecturing other characters (Polonius in particular comes to mind for some reason).

Tholomyes drunkenly stands up and tells everyone to slow down, to both eat and talk more slowly. But two chapters ago Hugo said they had finished eating. Go home, Tholomyes, you’re drunk. Tholomyes compares Talleyrand and Grimod de la Reyniere, one was a connoisseur of wine, the other of food, which is probably a “these people say savor your meals” statement.

Everyone else wants him to shut the hell up so they can continue their conversations and/or singing, which is funny. Also, I see so much Grantaire in this entire speech. Only, instead of a “down with your claws” remark going ignored, Tholomyes’ “You are it’s marquis” pun makes everyone quiet down, which he obviously takes as an invitation. 

Tholomyes first segment about puns absolutely sounds like Hugo being extremely self-aware. He has an unlikable character criticize and disparage the excess use of puns, fully knowing the amount of puns that will be used later on in this book. Hugo mentions irony in conjunction with Tholomyes in 1.3.2, here he’s really displaying it.

According to wikipedia, the Jesus/Peter pun is due to a Greek translation, where “Peter” is translated to “Petros” and then the same sentence also contains the word “petra” (rock), so that Jesus is saying “Thou art Rock, and upon this rock will I build my church.” The Polynices pun is from Aeschylus’ play Seven Against Thebes. At one point the play’s chorus describes Polynices and his brother Eteocles as being “true to each other’s names, both truly lamentable (eteokleitoi) and both full of strife (polyneikeis).” The Cleopatra pun is basically Cleopatra mocking Antony, who is upset that Caesar is late to battle, calling Caesar’s tardiness harmless. The “prudence of Amphiaraus” is also a pun, since Amphiaraus was a Greek king and seer who continuously did things knowing they’d go wrong or fail. The “baldness of Caesar” pun is a play on words because “Caesar” means “hairy child” and Caesar himself was balding.

I’ve just realized that the “Est modus in rebus” (Moderation in all things) line is what reminds me of Polonius. I can’t help but think of his “neither a borrower nor a lender be” lecture towards Laertes.

Tholomyes suddenly gets a little more ominous and foreshadowing as he talks about how love should not be overloaded, and there must be restraint and ends to things, even love. “The wise man is he who knows when and how to stop. Have some confidence in me.” I love this for a few reasons. First, Tholomyes is pretty drunk here, and he’s the one calling for moderation in all things. Ha! Second, it’s funny that he’s telling people to have confidence in him when they all seem to want him to be quiet. Third, he’s got an interesting way of interpreting “how to stop.”

Which is actually a line that’s interesting to me. Previously I kind of thought this cruel prank was a thing he’d done to women many times before, with other friends. Except this “the wise man is he who knows when and how to stop” line sounds like he’s talking about trying to extricate himself from this whole situation. Maybe he’s never knocked up a grisette before; certainly he’s probably never had one actually fall in love with him before, since usually everyone’s on the same page. He wants out of this relationship that’s more than he signed up for. It’s definitely time to stop, and this is apparently the only “how” he knows?

Sylla was the first republican to seize power via military coup; but at the end of his dictatorship, when he had imposed all the changes he wanted, he abdicated and retired. I don’t understand the Origenes line, but I think that’s due to my cluelessness when it comes to the way different areas of Christianity work.

He pronounces “friends” in a few different languages, which I can only imagine as being very slurred and with sloppy, ridiculous gestures. He waxes poetic (or something) about how to have no passion or love. I can’t tell if he’s talking about having an affair without falling into marriage/love, or feeling nothing at all. In the next lines he certainly seems annoyed with himself for getting mixed up with someone who has actual feelings for him.

Here’s more shades of Grantaire. Tholomyes has this whole rant on each country’s measurements; Grantaire has his rant on each country’s popular trade. But Grantaire’s is a political and social critique, while I think Tholomyes’ might be a dick joke?

Tholomyes isn’t even subtle about his affair with Favourite here. He straight up insults Zephine and calls her ugly, I think he insinuates that Dahlia is boring, and then he basically dismisses Fantine and calls her an airhead. And in the middle of this he sings Favourite’s praises. He specifically calls attention to her mouth. Also, he refers to her with “tu” instead of “vous,” the first time he uses the familiar with her, at least with company around.

God, he talks about Fantine like she’s not even there. What an asshole. I hate him so much. He talks about Fantine like she’s not there, and she doesn’t do or say anything to contradict that. Again, she gets no dialogue in this chapter. Where is Fantine at, mentally, in all of this? Because Hugo does this a lot: he’ll describe someone or something in idealized tones, and then a chapter or two later a character will have dialogue describing that same person/thing, but in much more down-to-earth ways. Fantine and Cosette are both described in conjunction with birds. Only, Cosette is a bird, and Fantine is staring off into space, imagining birds. Honestly if we’re still going about this with the headcanon that she’s on the spectrum (which I am, I love it), this sounds like an overstimulation shut down. Hell, my adhd brain does the same thing when I’m in places that are really loud and busy and there’s not really a point of focus. If everyone around them is yelling and laughing and singing as much as they are, then it’s probably horrific in this pub.

Tholomyes is so blatant here about his intentions around Fantine. “I am an illusion--but she doesn’t not even hear me...” I think this piece of dialogue is twofold. Tholomyes is again hinting at his plan to leave, to end everything; his relationship with Fantine is so fake as to be an illusion. But it’s also here to describe Fantine, who is dreaming up a relationship that doesn’t exist. I kind of get the feeling that Tholomyes hasn’t been very nice to Fantine for a while, hasn’t been trying to keep up the pretense of this relationship, and yet Fantine is so wrapped up in her own personal illusion that they’re in love that she is unable to notice or see his assholery.

Yet another shade of Grantaire here. This monologue describing Fantine made me think of R’s “Chowder is ugly” monologue. Tholomyes describes Fantine as the “daughter of chimeras” while Chowder is a chimera. They both get classical allusions: Fantine is a nymph, while Chowder is a gargoyle instead of Galatea. Chowder gets hair like lead, while Fantine is a jewel. Both men are drunkenly harassing women and being real obnoxious about it. The difference is a) Chowder is probably used to it as waitress and Grantaire doesn’t seem to mean genuine harm and b) Tholomyes is “in a relationship” with Fantine, and that’s no way to treat someone, and it definitely sounds like he’s mocking her in front of her face to other people.

The “too much sugar” rant goes with the marriage one, I think. According to Tholomyes, women are too obsessed with the fairytale-type nice things, spend too much time imagining sweetness like a wedding. I’m not sure how popular trash romances were at the time (I know Hugo mentions that Mme. Thenardier reads them) but I wonder if he’s referencing reading those as well.

“Make conquests. Rob each other without remorse of your beloved. Crisscross and double cross. In love, there are no friends. Wherever there’s a pretty woman, there’s open warfare....” You know what, I think Tholomyes actually really wants Fantine to figure it out. At first I thought he was being an annoying asshole and acting like this because he knows she doesn’t get it so he doesn’t care. But I actually think he wants to see her put it together. He’s still talking in metaphors and references, but I think he wants Fantine to realize that he’s cheating, that he doesn’t love her back and this is just a fling. He wants her to be on the same level as everyone else. I don’t know if he wants it so that there’s a better chance of them getting away without consequences, or if he’s a cruel bastard (he is) who wants to watch her world collapse. He’s been saying it louder and louder and more and more obviously as the speech goes on. But as he says just a paragraph before, Fantine just doesn’t get it. Either she truly doesn’t notice, or she refuses to see. He describes her as so distant here, I think she truly doesn’t notice or get it.

This is also a bunch of references to women who were historically raped. He basically seems to be saying that when you refuse to settle down, you get the “benefit” of being the enemy and taking other people’s partners. Gross. Hugo really knows how to write a slimy, unlikable asshole. And even his friends seem to think he’s going to far, because they tell him to stop talking, and when it seems like he’s going to start up again, they sing some annoying rhyming song. Why they thought that would shut him up, I don’t know.

He really does spend this whole speech dropping hints. “Let’s finish our course of study with folly and food” sounds like he’s talking about messing around with the women, but also definitely sounds like a hidden “ooh, you’re about to get tricked and feel so stupid.”

He spouts off a bunch more springtime allusions (comparing nightingales to the opera singer Jean Elleviou, Jardin du Luxembourg, pastorals about various upper-class streets, etc.) The pampas line is interesting. Pampas are big open fertile lowlands in South America, as compared to the covered arcades of the Odeon theatre. Again I think this is a twofold joke: on the one hand, literally the Pampas is a place Tholomyes could go and become a landowner and be a rich independent colonizer, but he feels he does perfectly fine shmoozing at the the theatre in Paris. Less literally, this could also be a sex joke, similar to Grantaire’s “if only I wanted to,” only worse. Basically he’s saying “look at all these girls I could go fuck in other places, but I get enough tail in the theatres of Paris.” Gross.

He then kisses Favourite “by mistake.” I think at this point he knows Fantine is never going to get it. But Favourite is clearly in on the joke. He doesn’t even care anymore, he’ll cheat on Fantine in front of all of them because they all kind of know except Fantine--who isn’t going to figure it out, obviously.

#les miserables #les miserables meta #brickclub #lm 1.3.7 #les mis #les mis meta #y'all have no idea how much fun i have researching the references #even though sometimes i don't know enough about french history to really dig deep

[shesnake]

my favourite hamlets (movies, recorded stage productions, live perfs):

andrew scott // almeida // 2017 // refreshing emphasis on mental illness/masculinity/obligations of grief.. hamlet isn’t sad his dad is dead bc he fucking hated his dad!! surprisingly very tender in that hamlet and ophelia read as two people in a relationship that deteriorates due to their separate mental illnesses.. VERY lesbian when you watch it no i can’t explain it

HAIDER (2014) dir. vishal bhardwaj // re-imagined as an indian crime drama set during the 1995 kashmir conflicts/disappearances.. a must watch!

maxine peake // manchester royal exchange // 2015 // i don’t remember much about it other than how gay i feel

ewan leslie // belvoir st sydney // 2014 // went to see this for hsc and it was so COOL the stage was all black right up until intermission when polonius is murdered and when we came back in for the last half everything was BRIGHT white and polonius was on the floor his (fake) blood spilling out and throughout the next acts people would step in the blood and track it across the floor, in particular i recall hamlet on a wheeled office chair skidding through the blood puddle and also ophelia traipsing around in a long veil spreading blood and flowers all over the ground

harriet gordon-anderson // sydney opera house // 2020 // was very lucky to win cheap tickets to catch this before quarantine it absolutely KILLED MEEEE the ‘to be or not to be’ soliloquy was delivered w hamlet facing ophelia on the opposite end of the stage as if she were speaking directly to her about wanting to die and ophelia is just SOBBING then ofc it turns to the nunnery confrontation and they draw closer until they’re holding each other and crying and hate everything they’re saying.. i was an absolute wreck for the rest of the day

david tennant // ?? // 2009 // very chaotic and probably the gayest i’ve seen hamlet and horatio

ophelia (2018) dir. claire mccarthy // listen this is a stupid movie but very pretty and VERY fun and the new motivations behind all those iconic scenes add such a unique dimension that separates it from previous iterations. the witch subplot is unnecessary but i appreciate the sympathy it has for gertrude..

ruth negga // gate theatre // 2018 // haven’t seen it but i know it fucks

this guy on youtube

#hamlet #d

[complete-mess]

I’ve already said it before but Ophelia 2019 is awful in so many ways and here’s just some of them. I’m going on the basis that this is an adaption of the play so if you didn’t read the play it probably won’t make sense

I’ve said it before but I’ll say it again, my main problem with this adaption is they turn Ophelia into the personification of ‘I’m not like other girls’ archetype. The film separates Ophelia from all the other female characters. Ophelia has no female friends amongst the other ladies in waiting ‘cause they’re all bitches who just don’t understand me.’ Can we please, in all types of media, allow women to be friends??? It’s not that fucking hard. 

The film as a whole tries to make characters either good or bad, heroes or villains, which is just.......why. Like Hamlet’s entire character is oh so good until he refuses to go with Ophelia in the last 15 minutes of the movie. Hamlet kills Ophelia’s father and is like ‘Ophelia forgive me’ in passing and Ophelia is just like k???? and seemingly all good after that. Like am i just supposed to equate play Hamlet who when killing Polonius is like ‘ Thou wretched rash intruding fool, farewell, i took thee for thy better’ and shows absolute no empathy or remorse for his actions to movie Hamlet who is just oh so sorry.....nah just nah

They completely changed Claudius’ character for no reason and made him into a macho aggressive man. Claudius in the play is compared to King Hamlet a lot. King Hamlet was almost always at war which is shown by ghost Hamlet appearing in his ‘war like form’. Claudius isn’t obsessed with war the same way K.Hamlet was. He’s more of a political king (if that makes sense). In the second scene of the play Claudius decides to contact the king of Norway to tell him to get a hold on Fortinbras rather than going straight to war. Also Claudius is crafty, cunning and sneaky. He’s not all that aggressive. He rarely gets angry in the play. If anything he manipulates others anger for his own use (see Laertes). I think making Claudius this big tough man was a stupid mistake. It’s cringey and is yet another archetype which undermines the more complex characters Shakespeare wrote.

I really didn’t like how they rewrote or interpreted Ophelia and Hamlet’s relationship. It was just .....bad. Ophelia and Hamlet get married in secret which completely disregards one of the many reasons Ophelia goes mad in the end of the play ‘Before you tumbled me you promised me to wed’. It’s implied in the play that Hamlet and Ophelia’s relationship was a sexual one. Given the time period the loss of Ophelia’s ‘chaste treasure’ (virginity) would have been societal suicide. Ophelia becomes a ‘fallen woman’ and her life prospects are instantly diminished. By adding in the fact that Ophelia and Hamlet are actually married it takes away her nuances.

I didn’t like Gertrude either (just assume i hate how every character was written in this version). Although I will say this comes from how I saw Gertrude in the play. In the play it’s never stated how Gertrude came to marry Claudius. Were they having an affair whilst King Hamlet was still alive? Did Gertrude see the coup Claudius was planning and realise the only way for Hamlet to ever sit on the throne was to marry Claudius? Was Gertrude just as power hungry as Claudius and couldn’t stand not being queen? Did Gertrude have a hand in the murder of King Hamlet? It’s ambiguous, strategic opacity and all that. I personally saw Gertrude as  conniving. She saw Claudius coup and wanted to remain in power. I don’t think she had a hand in King Hamlets death and I don’t think she did it for Hamlet. I will say I can respect the way they wrote Gertrude’s character even if it wasn’t how I liked (personal preference and all that). However I hated her at the end of the play.

The end of the play was just.......unusual if anything. In the play Hamlet is the last to kick the bucket. He has his little talk to Horatio about Fortinbras and then dies. I don’t understand why in this version they chose to kill Hamlet first??? If my memory serves me right the deaths went as follows, Gertrude, Laertes, Claudius and then Hamlet. Hamlet and Laertes sword fight was good enough (except it’s technically a fencing match but thats just me being pedantic). My only issue is Laertes doesn’t have this moment where he realises he’s been manipulated by Claudius and apologises to Hamlet (I don’t think he needs to apologise to Hamlet because Hamlet’s a dick but I wanted to see how he was used). Also I know Gertrude killing Claudius was supposed to be this big feminist moment but I just wasn’t gone in it. I also wasn’t gone in the idea of Gertrude purposefully drinking the poison. I guess it was supposed to be Gertrude atoning for her sins but if anything I thought it was her taking the easy way out. It’s not a necessarily bad end, I just didn’t like it personally.

I don’t think I need to explain why having a Gertrude twin was stupid

I’ve already talked about Ophelia’s characterisation but Imma do it again, just cause. In my eyes Ophelia is the victim of the play. As a women she is mostly powerless (in this time period). I like play Ophelia. She’s doesn’t have power, she can be quite passive, she’s arguably ‘weak’. But she’s extremely resilient. She arguably has to deal with the most shit in this play. Her father forces her to break up her relationship with Hamlet. The breaking up of their relationship causes Hamlet to treat her shitty. He publicly humiliates her during the play Murder of Gonzago. He literally kills her father and shows no empathy towards her, at all (which is highly hypocritical considering his motivation throughout the entire play is to get revenge for his fathers murder). Overwhelmed with everything, she goes mad and finally freely expresses herself. It feels....cathartic in a way . Ophelia deserves to go mad, she’s earned the right. I also think it was one of the more emotional parts of the plays. Like we have all of Hamlets soliloquies which are undoubtably emotional. But it’s different with Ophelia. For me at least, when reading the play or watching it you......kinda forget about Ophelia. So much other shit is happening and you’re focused on that. But then you suddenly see Ophelia go mad and you realise all the shitty things that happened to her. It’s a moment where both the audience and the characters realise the damage done to Ophelia’s psyche. I hate how this movie just took that away with Ophelia pretending to go mad. The movie pushes the narrative that Ophelia isn’t weak, she’s strong, she could never go mad. But...... why does she need to be strong. If Ophelia was as weak as everyone thinks she was, she would have become as corrupt and power hungry as everyone else in the play. She remains morally good and if thats what you call weak, I’ll happily be weak any day of the week

Feel free to disagree. Also before someone says it, I’m aware this isn’t necessarily an adaption of the play but an adaption of the a book based on the play. But I think if they wanted to separate it this much from the original text they should have distinguished it more. Change the names or something. The names Hamlet, Gertrude, Claudius and Ophelia are synonymous with the Shakespeare play. They must have known people would assume it was adaption and I’m sure they used that to promote the film

#Ophelia 2019 #Hamlet #There is a shit ton of spelling or grammatical mistakes

[unpack-my-heart]

But Break, My Heart, For I Must Hold My Tongue

@violetreddie​ @constantreaderfool​ @tinyarmedtrex​ @xandertheundead​ @mrs-vh​ @eds-trashmouth​ 

[Moodboard by the amazing @violetreddie​ <3]

Read on ao3 HERE

“The rest is silence”

Eddie watches Richie’s face shift from painted anguish to peaceful nothingness. He watches Richie’s eyes dance under his eyelids, a wakeful dream. Eddie had memorised the choreography when he’d sat up late at night whilst Richie slept, eyes two-stepping and arms blindly grabbing for Eddie.

“Now cracks a noble heart. Good night sweet Hamlet, and –”

Richie’s eyes fly open.

“Good night sweet prince,” Eddie corrects, and Stan’s face blanches.

“Shit! Sorry. Good night sweet prince, and flights of angels sing thee to thy rest! Uh …”

“Why does…” Eddie prompts, but Stan doesn’t finish the line.

“Why does the drum come hither?” Eddie supplies, voice schooled into careful apathy, not wanting to spook the flighty animal stood in front of him, with Richie’s head cradled loosely in his lap.  

Richie’s eyes close again, and Eddie holds his breath.

“Why does the drum come hither?”

Fortinbras storms in, but Eddie doesn’t look at him. Horatio and Fortinbras exchange terse words, but Eddie cannot draw his eyes away from Richie’s face. The last time he’d seen this expression painted on his brow was the night before he’d told Eddie to leave, when they’d held each other all night and the acceptance letter had turned poisonous and fetid in Eddie’s bag.

“Not from his mouth, had it the ability of life to thank you, he … he … FUCK!”

Richie’s eyes open again.

“He never gave commandment for their death” Richie said, in a tone that Eddie imagined was supposed to be helpful but caused Stan to visibly bristle.

“You’re supposed to be dead”

“I’m just trying to help”

“I don’t need your help, Richard” Stan deadpanned, staring down at Richie with

“Look, you’re obviously struggling, I was just –”

“Richie, can you give us a moment, please?”

Richie stands up, uncharacteristically quiet, and slinks out of the room, tail between his legs.

The air in the small rehearsal room hangs like smog, heavy on their shoulders. Stan’s shaking, just barely, and Eddie knows that Stan thinks Eddie’s going to sack him, relieve him of his part and send him back into the wilderness, nameless.

Eddie sits down on the floor in the middle of the room, carefully arranging his limbs in an attempt to look less threatening, less like the person that could erase Horatio’s world with a snap of his fingers.

“Come sit”

Stan hesitates, before taking measured steps over to where Eddie is sat in a half-lotus position, hands clasped in his lap.

Stan sits.

“How much do you remember of our RADA days?”

Stan blinks.

“Uh, most of it, I guess? I remember – I remember you were in our seventeenth-century tragedy class before –”

Eddie smiles, lips drawn into a lazy, lopsided grin. Honest.

“Heh. Before I left, you mean?”

“Yup. Richie was pretty crushed”

“I don’t want to talk about Richie,” Eddie replies, voice gentle but laced with do not do not do not, “I want to talk about you”

“Look, Eddie, I know – I know I’m fucking it up. I know that I’m probably not the Horatio you want me to be, but… I’m trying? I’m trying so fucking hard, Eddie, honest I am. I just – I can’t seem to – I really want …”

“Do you remember Jacques?”

“How could I forget Jacques? I’m pretty sure anyone who has had even a three second interaction with Jacques remembers him,” Stan says, voice several ounces lighter.

Eddie shifts, right leg numb and protesting. He ends up sitting on his ass with his legs pin-straight out in front of him. Stan does the same.

“Jacques told me to leave RADA. He told me that I was never going to reach my potential in that environment, that it wasn’t the right place for me to grow, to flower. I didn’t hate him for saying it. I hated myself. Of course I felt like a failure. I’d tried and tried and tried but it wasn’t ever going to happen. I’d never be the prodigy my mother told me I was going to be”

“Eddie, are you–” Stan whispers, but Eddie shakes his head violently.

“Let me finish, Stan. I handed in my letter of intention before they could ask me to leave. That made it easier. I went out on my own terms.”

“Do you – are you asking me to –”

“Stan!”

“Sorry”

“I didn’t want it enough. I never did. Never have. I want this,” Eddie gestures wildly around the small rehearsal room, to his desk where his papers lay strewn across the surface like autumn leaves, to the grubby mirrors where he watched his cast metamorphosize every day, to the ceiling that he’d stare at, and thank a God he doesn’t believe in for giving him all of this, for letting him take it and consume it and become corpulent.

“You want it” Eddie announces after a beat of silence, and it isn’t a question.

“I want it” Stan parrots, staring at Eddie with wide, help me help me help me eyes.

“You want it, and I’ll help you get it. You’ve been cast for a reason, Stan. Claire saw something in you, something she knew I could nurture, and she was right. You are my Horatio, and as long as you’re willing to work with me, I’ll claw him out of you.”

Stan looks bewildered, like Eddie had just agreed to lasso the moon and drag it down just for him.

“Even if you did fuck up, it’d be nothing to do with you, anyway. That’d be on me. I’m your director, this production is my responsibility and mine alone. All of you, Horatio, Ophelia, Claudius,” Eddie pauses, screwing his eyes closed, before opening them again and locking eyes with Stan, “Hamlet. All of you. This is my ship and if it goes down, it’ll have been me who bore holes in the deck.”

“I don’t know what to say”

“Say you’ll stay, say you’ll work with me, say you’ll let me help you grow”

– X –

“Why are you giving Horatio more attention than me? I’m supposed to be the lead!”

It takes Richie longer than Eddie had guessed to detonate.

“Pardon?” Eddie answers, ready to go toe to toe with the Prince of Denmark on a battlefield of his own making, but Stan’s voice gets there first.

“Stop being a fucking child, Richie”

And they’re off. A verbal sparring match, the fencing scene several acts too soon. Eddie watches them, hidden in the corner like Polonius behind the curtain, expecting to get stabbed in the stomach by a rogue insult.

The fight is over almost as soon as it had begun, however, as Richie drops his sword and a pitiful ‘what happened to us’ falls to the ground instead.

Then Eddie’s name falls from Stan’s lips and he feels that puncture wound he’d been waiting for.

“There hasn’t been an ‘us’ since you ignored me when Eddie left,” Stan replies, eyes downcast, “I missed you, Rich, I rang you for two fucking years, of course I missed you. But this petulant child isn’t you. You need to sort it out. You can’t draw him in when you’re pushing everyone else out”

Eddie releases a wounded howl ripped straight from the part of his heart that he had locked away when he’d left Richie sat at that dining room table fourteen years ago.

Richie turns, horror evident in his pained expression.

“Eddie”

– X –

As soon as he saw him, Eddie knew that Michael Hanlon was made for the role of Ophelia. The softness of his face contrasted with the feral nymph in his eyes, the liberate me timbre of his voice, all of it. With flowers woven in his hair, Mike had captivated Eddie from the first syllable. Whilst watching him work with Richie, the way Mike had managed to distil the naivety of youth so perfectly that it fell from his skin in waves, Eddie had never felt so lucky.

“My lord, I have remembrances of yours, that I have longed long to re-deliver; I pray you, now receive them.”

Mike tries to thrust a small collection of letters into Richie’s hands but Richie sends them flying into the sky, only to rain back down on them like snowflakes, alike but subtly different. A sickness gnaws at Eddie’s stomach when he remembers the letters he’d sent to Richie, and whether Richie would condemn them to the ground, unread. Unopened.

Richie responds with a cold, “No, not I; I never gave you aught”, and the sickness in Eddie’s stomach grows stronger, and stronger.

I never gave you aught.

Never gave you aught.

Oh, but Richie, you gave me everything.

Mike slumps to the floor, rehearsal dress pooling around him. Richie grabs his face between his hands, and whispers through gritted teeth, “get thee to a nunnery!” and it’s perfect. It’s too perfect.

Richie stalks off, standing in the corner of the room that indicated that he was now off-stage and Eddie doesn’t look at him. He doesn’t look, he doesn’t look, he mustn’t look but then he does look and Richie’s looking right back.

They share a small smile.

Mike continues to howl.

#reddie #hamlet au #theatre au #eddie kaspbrak #richie tozier #Richie Tozier x Eddie Kaspbrak #but break my heart for i must hold my tongue #ao3 #thefutureisbright

[mst3kproject]

1009: Hamlet, Prinz von Dänemark

I spent a buck-fifty Canadian to download this movie. There’s not much you can get for a buck-fifty Canadian.  One sour soother, maybe, or a chipped coffee mug from a garage sale that has a photo of somebody else’s grandparents on it.  So now you know how much Hamlet is worth.

We all know the story of Hamlet, whether we wanted to or not. King Hamlet of Denmark was murdered by his brother Claudius, who then married Queen Gertrude and stole the throne.  We can’t be having that, so the king’s ghost appears to his son, Hamlet Jr, and tells him he must take revenge.  Junior then spends the whole rest of the play wandering around pondering the afterlife and battering his girlfriend Ophelia before finally running Claudius through during a climactic duel during which pretty much everybody else dies, too, except for the ones who were already dead.  Nobody has ever given me a convincing explanation of why these people have names like Horatio and Laertes instead of Svend and Rolf.

I’m definitely not going to try to review Hamlet itself, Shakespeare’s play, because I don’t know a damned thing about Hamlet.  I deliberately went out and murdered those brain cells with alcohol immediately after writing my final exam.  Instead I’m going to have to talk about this movie in itself, how it fares both as a film and as a retelling of this story.

That second point is a big one.  Hamlet has been done, a lot, and as the bots point out with their sketch about their all-percussion version, it’s really hard to do anything unique with it anymore.  If you’re an acting troupe who wants to give it a try, that’s cool because it means people will get to see live theatre, but if you’re making a movie you really need to bring something new to the table.  An interesting interpretation, an actor or director that people really want to see, an unusual setting or time period, something like that.  This Hamlet has none of that.

I am reasonably sure that what the movie is trying to do is to look like a stage play, much as The Magic Voyage of Sinbad was trying to look like an opera.  Sinbad pulled it off with extravagant sets and operatic bombast.  By contrast everything in Hamlet, from pillars to thrones to flights of stairs, looks like it’s made out of concrete.  There is very little music, which somehow makes the whole thing feel even more doom-and-gloom-y than Hamlet already does.  The costumes go for a semi-fantasy look somewhere between Elizabethan and medieval, which is very stagey, and the effect is heightened by the fact that most of the characters never seem to change their clothes. The actors don’t look comfortable in them, though, which means they look uncomfortable in their characters as well. Queen Gertrude in particular looks like she’s too worried about damaging her gown to move easily in it, and the giant chain around Claudius’ neck is absurd.

Adding to the impression that the movie was shot in somebody’s basement, it’s lit very pootly when it’s lit at all.  A lot of shots are quite dull, lit in a way that shows where things are but doesn’t create mood or drama.  The film is in black and white and the characters wear black, or at least colours so dark you can’t tell the difference, which leaves night shots (such as the one where Horatio and the guards are chasing after the king’s ghost) looking like a bunch of heads floating around.

It is, of course, very difficult to judge a dubbed performance. The actors we’re watching appear to be going for a sort of heightened melodrama, part of the idea that we’re meant to feel like we’re watching a stage play.  The dub actors, on the other hand, don’t seem to have gotten the memo.  A lot of them mumble, particularly Maximilian Schell as Hamlet, which is really weird because he’s dubbing himself.  Sometimes they manage to make the Shakespearean English sound very natural, but that often jars with the physical performances.  I have no idea what sort of accents some of them think they’re doing. There are a few who don’t seem to be trying to do an accent at all, while others sound like they’re aiming for British (because it’s Shakespeare?), German (because the movie’s German?) or Damn Worwelf.

Most of the actors are kind of bland-looking, and those who stand out do so because they look weirdly wrong for the parts they’re playing.  Polonius with his little mustache looks like a physics teacher who feels naked because he’s not wearing a necktie.  He’s also dubbed by John Banner, so if you keep hearing this is so klandinkto! every time he speaks… that’s why.  If Hamlet himself looks familiar, it may be because Maximilian Schell was Dr. Reinhardt in The Black Hole, or maybe it’s because he looks a lot like the guy in Atlantic Rim that I referred to as MacGuyver. He’s a very fine actor who won an academy award for Judgment at Nuremburg, but he’s way out of place as Hamlet.  His Hollywood good looks and crooked little smile make it feel like he’s trying to play Hamlet as a dashing heartthrob.

For all that, there are a couple of moments in this movie that I quite like.  The scene in which Hamlet is nodding and smiling to the wedding guests while the Too Too Solid Flesh soliloquy begins in voiceover is quite nicely done.  It gives you a very visceral sense of this man who is forced to bottle up his anger and grief.  I also like that during the Murder of Gonzago scene, the camera focuses not on the players but on the audience reaction.  Claudius and Gertrude smile at each other when the players talk about love, and then grow uncomfortable as the play condemns re-marriage.  Ophelia’s embroidery is an attempt at symbolism, the arum being a popular funeral flower.  Too bad it’s so in-your-face that it loses all subtlety.

On the whole, though, Hamlet is just dull.  The spartan, ugly sets and dark costumes offer us very little to look at, and in some of the darker scenes there’s almost nothing to see at all. The physical and dub performances don’t match, and neither hold the attention.  Watching it feels like a two-hour slog through a tarry morass of depression.

I kind of wonder what the purpose of this movie was supposed to be. It was made for TV in the sixties, and I guess it was an attempt to capitalize on the Germans’ love of Shakespeare – because Germans do definitely love Shakespeare, sometimes considering themselves to have a better claim on him than England because unlike the English, they respect him.  More Shakespeare plays are performed in Germany every year than in England, and in the leadup to World War II the Nazi regime tried to get rid of him, couldn’t, and had to settle for picking and choosing which translations were ‘German enough’ for them (this always reminds me of the joke about Hamlet being better in the original Klingon).

If this is the case, I would like to know what the Germans who saw this movie in its original broadcast thought of it.  Sixty-year-old reviews of made-for-tv movies in foreign languages are hard to find even online, so I honestly have no idea.  I know that people who have seen this English version hate it, and I have a hard time imagining it being much better in German even when you love Shakespeare unconditionally.  The fact that the Germans do love Shakespeare just makes it seem that much more likely that they’d consider this dreary pork-filled version an insult to him.

It’s also interesting to think about what made the Best Brains pick this one out as an MST3K project.  The movie is definitely bad, and in its own way it fits right in with a lot of the black-and-white crap from the Joel era that tries so hard to be important and just ends up being depressing.  Yet the source material remains as something a lot of people would consider untouchable (the Germans being high on that list… although Shakespeare himself, purveyor of fine penis jokes to Her Majesty the Queen since 1591, would probably be totally okay with the MST3K treatment.  He must have heard way more vicious audience commentary).  My guess it was something they considered a challenge to themselves, in the same way as RiffTrax tackled Casablanca just to see if they could do it.  The Amazing Colossal Transplanted Sci-Fi Channel Episode Guide entry on the episode is kind of interesting, as Kevin mentions the feeling that they had to be funnier than usual in order to live up to the play’s legend.

My high school English teachers (the same ones who inflicted The Most Dangerous Game on me) insisted that Hamlet is a play which should make you think.  I’m pretty sure this is not what they meant, but the thing I’ve always found myself thinking about while watching or reading it is the idea of marrying one’s brother’s widow.  The church of the time said that this was equivalent to marrying one’s own sister (Claudius indeed calls Gertrude our sometime sister) and frowned upon it most heavily, and this would have been common knowledge in Elizabethan England because it was Henry VIII’s excuse for divorcing Catherine of Aragon and marrying Anne Boleyn, Queen Elizabeth’s mother (never mind that he’d also fucked Anne’s sister Mary).  By portraying this as villainous behaviour, Shakespeare was sucking up to the Queen, emphasizing that her mom’s marriage was way more legit than Catherine’s.  Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk.

#mst3k #reviews #hamlet #tw: incest #60s

[hamletandthegang]

Hoops

Polonius sat in the back of a room on a chair. He was listening to the meeting of the king and a few nobles who wished to extend their land up to the waterfront. Polonius was sitting in the small space behind the throne in the great hall. The room had been instituted shortly after Claudius had been crowned, and now a meeting rarely went by without Polonius sitting and listening in. 

It was a short meeting, and they were wrapping it up when Polonius’s Apple Watch buzzed. He down at it, and saw that his daughter had texted him. 

Hey dad? It read.

Another buzzed through, and Polonius put it on do not disturb so it would not interrupt the meeting.

Can I tell you something? It’s about Hamlet.

Polonius assumed the worst (that she and him had started dating) and tapped back an answer about how he had warned her about him being dangerous. Before long, another text dinged through, but this one was longer. Polonius started after he read it, and typed back, Thank you for telling me. He turned off his watch as Claudius dismissed the meeting. He heard footsteps going out of the great hall, and the door shutting.

“Well, Polonius, that one was more boring than usual.” Claudius let out a loud laugh, and Polonius poked his head out from behind the curtain separating the room from the great hall. 

“I’d have to agree, my lord.” The two chuckled, and silence settled over the hall after the echoes disappeared.

“Any notes? I think I got everything,” Claudius asked absentmindedly. Polonius shook his head, and drew up a stool from the back room.

Claudius was wearing a white blouse and black jacket over top of it. He wore a red sash on the jacket, with a white cross on it, resembling the Danish flag. Polonius was wearing a simple suit. They only wore robes on days when a court was called or something more important.

“No, it was a short meeting. Nothing new.” Polonius fiddled with his watch, keeping an eye on the texts from his daughter. “I need to speak to you; it concerns Hamlet.”

“Ugh,” Claudius scoffed. “Great! What’s wrong with him now? I’ve tried everything! He simply hates me! And he seems very suspicious, which isn’t good either. But go on, what did he do now.”

“I think he has gone mad.”

“Mad? Mad! What makes you say that?” Claudius stopped as Polonius showed him the texts from Ophelia. “Oh yes, that is odd.”

“Yes, I think it would be useful to find out what the matter is that is making him so depressed and crazy. He has not been acting himself lately, but I am glad it was not me in the way when he flew into his rage!” Polonius and Claudius laughed vivaciously over Ophelia’s misfortune. 

“Do you think the girl is all right? That could’ve given her quite a scare.” 

“I’m sure she’s fine.” Polonius waved the matter aside. “She takes care of herself, that one.” They chuckled again. “But how do we figure out the cause of his madness? That is a more important matter.”

“Oh! I know!” A stroke of genius hit Claudius. “Hamlet has a couple of friends at the college he attends in England. We could send for them, and ask them to find out the matter with Hamlet. Oh, what are their names?” Claudius thought for a minute. “Gosencrons and Mildenstern? No, that’s not right.”

“Rosencrantz and Guildenstern?” Polonius supplied.

Claudius snapped his fingers. “That’s them! We should send for them to help! If we bribe them enough, we should be able to secure their assistance. What do you think?”

Polonius knew the plan was probably not logical, but nodded with a smile. “Of course, my lord. You always come up with the best plans!”

Claudius smiled. “Yes, yes I do! Please take care of that if you could, sometime today or tomorrow. The faster they get here, the faster Hamlet can be un-maddened” 

Claudius heaved himself off of the throne (he was a short and squat little man) and waddled down towards his bedroom.

Polonius sat down on the throne, stretched out, and sighed. He got his phone out of his pocket and dialed a number. He listened to it ring for a moment and then let it stop. The person wasn’t picking up. He would have to contact someone at the college instead. 

Polonius had to jump through a lot of hoops at the castle, but his job paid off like no other, and it was worth it.

#hamlet #hamlet&co fics #shakespeare #hamlet modern au #rosencrantz #guildenstern #polonius #claudius #fics #ophelia #hatg1

[nooo-body]

Beautiful Hamlet review

A union of laughter and tears Posted on 21. September 2017 by katbwritings When Shakespeare connoisseur Kenneth Branagh directs Tom Hiddleston as Hamlet at the Royal Academy of Dramatic Arts, you know it is bound to be good. As soon as the news about the production hit the public, expectations went through the roof. Even I, who generally doesn’t praise a production before the curtain call starts, wasn’t immune to that. Because of the cast, the director, the small theatre, the ticket ballot lottery, and the exclusiveness of it all, I, too, had very high expectations when I went to the Jerwood Vanbrugh Theatre last Friday. Some of them were met, some were not, and some were even exceeded.

We all know ‘Hamlet’ as one of Shakespeare’s greatest, if not THE greatest of his tragedies. So one wouldn’t necessarily suspect a staging of the play to contain a lot of comedy. But that is precisely the case with this production, and it’s by far the most unexpected and pleasant surprise of the evening. Thanks to great comedic timing of the entire cast, most of all the actors of Polonius, Hamlet and the Gravedigger, who provide most of the comic relief, there is a vast number of opportunities for laughter. And speaking of timing…the general timing of the actors during the play in simply phenomenal. It speaks of great talent from both the cast and the director and makes not only for a pretty much perfectly timed delivery of all dialogue but also an endless number of little, perfectly timed moments that make this evening so special and outstanding. When Hamlet and Polonius engage in some brief synchronised leg-crossing, it is not only funny and entertaining, but also shows how well-rehearsed those sequences are. To use the terminology of playwright Alan Ayckbourn, this is the crafty art of playmaking at its best.

Probably the most special aspect of the production is the intimacy of the theatre. No audience member is more than a few feet away from the centre of action, making everyone somehow automatically a part of what’s happening on stage. The audience surrounds the stage on three sides, which is why the cast isn’t so much acting in front, but rather right in the middle of them. Every member of the audience has a different angle from which they get to experience the play. And because the actors deal so naturally with the fact that they can’t face the entire audience at the same time, even on occasion turning their back on some of them, the situation sometimes feels almost voyeuristic. The intimate setting also allows for far more intimate character interaction than a big stage would. And, interestingly, some of the strongest moments of the evening were the things that weren’t said, the silent looks. Whether it’s the accusing looks of Hamlet towards his uncle, the disciplining looks of Queen Gertrude towards her son, the silent communication between Hamlet and Horatia, or the ghost of King Hamlet quietly watching over the events taking place in the beginning of the play, those silent moments are some of the loudest and most intense of the whole evening.

Apropos silent… The most impressive performance of the evening is delivered by Caroline Martin as Horatia, even (or maybe especially) in the moments where her character remains silent. Her presence on stage is simply breathtaking and Martin doesn’t even need lines to capture attention. Whenever she’s on stage, she owns it with every fibre of her body and radiates confidence and a constant care for Hamlet, her best friend. She is the fierce protector that the character of Horatio is intended to be. She’s his confidant, his conscience, the person who knows and understands him best. And while (thankfully!) Horatia and Hamlet aren’t in any way romantically involved, there’s always the subliminal question of what they could be if they allowed themselves to cross that line. It is without a doubt that Martin’s Horatia loves Hamlet. Definitely as a friend, maybe even more than that. It is her reaction, her silent tears and her refusal to accept the death of the man she loves, that make Hamlet’s death in the end so unbearable. I suffered with her, I cried with her.

Almost equally heartbreaking is Kathryn Wilder’s performance as Ophelia. She is so young and so innocent, so pure in her love for Hamlet. And the turn of events in the play completely take that innocence away, both emotionally and possibly physically. Yes, physically. Perhaps I’m only reading to much into it, but I believe it is entirely possible that Ophelia did lose her virtue to Hamlet, resulting in a pregnancy. Because when she points her brother’s gun at her head, already taken over by madness and grief, it seems to be a pain in her abdomen that stops her. Maybe it’s just coincidence, maybe it is not. The production doesn’t answer the question, leaving it up to the audience to interpret. Wilder’s strongest moment is Ophelia’s attempt at putting back together the pieces of a letter that Hamlet tore apart in his rage. Without saying a word, simply kneeling on the floor, her despair becomes so visible and so understandable. And it explains why supposedly losing Hamlet takes this toll on her.

Thanks to the casting choices, Rosacrantz (Ayesha Antoine, also in the role of Bernarda) and Guildastern (Eleanor de Rohan, also as Marcella and the priest) are not only Hamlet’s friends but also women in his life. And to first answer the question of ‘Did they or did they not?’…yes, I think they did. It is never addressed, but there is a certain vibe in their initially playful relationship with the Danish prince that makes me believe that the good times they had together in Wittenberg included more than just dancing and drinking games. Given that’s the case, their betrayal of Hamlet becomes somehow even more outrageous. Both Antoine and de Rohan deliver a brilliant performance as the spineless instruments of King Claudius who gradually forget that Hamlet once was their friend. Or maybe he never really was?! On a sidenote, they both also rock running around in killer high heels.

The character of Queen Gertrude, Hamlet’s mother, has never really been a very likeable one to me. In the beginning of the play, that goes for Lolita Chakrabarti’s Gertrude as well. While she is the epitome of grace (seriously, she is!) and always a loving mother to her son, she is also the woman who gladly shares her bed with her first husband’s brother. But over the course of the play, Chakrabarti shows Gertrude as a woman who starts to doubt and to question. In the midst of worrying about her son, doubting her current husband’s motives and questioning the circumstances of the death of her first, she becomes a sort of plaything of the events taking place. And while she obviously wants to stop it all from happening, especially anything concerning her son and the madness of Ophelia, she is completely helpless and caught in the wheel of lies and schemes. Gertrude has to start wandering the fine line between giving into her impulses, her doubts and remembering her duties as the Queen and wife to Claudius, something that Chakrabarti portrays with utter perfection.

Nicholas Farrell plays his Claudius with lots of power and strength. Even in the moments of doubt, I never developed any kind of pity or sympathy for the King. He is a Claudius I loved to hate. While Farrell’s delivery is flawless, it lacked a certain spark and unfortunately kept me from connecting with the character in any way.

The complete opposite of that is Sean Foley’s Polonius (and also later in his portrayal of Osric). Just like Gertrude, I never really regarded Polonius as a likeable character and considered his death somewhat of a relief in the play. Not this time. Foley plays him with so much charming wit, refreshing humour, adorable awkwardness and, unexpectedly, true honesty that I just couldn’t help but like him. He isn’t constantly plotting and calculating, as the character is often portrayed. This Polonius is most of all a caring father who really loves and worries about his two children. And because he’s also a loyal servant to the King, he is constantly torn between his duties and the love for his family. Foley brilliantly displays that inner conflict without letting it suffocate the character, on the contrary, which makes his Polonius by far the most entertaining and most memorable I’ve ever seen on stage.

Polonius’ son Laertes is portrayed by Irfan Shamji, who delivers a strong performance (also in his portrayal of the Player Queen). Even more touching than his pain over the loss of his family, is the playful and loving relationship he has with his sister. His Laertes is very affectionate towards Ophelia and never leaves any doubt that he’d do everything to protect his sister. And that strong relationship makes his rage even more powerful and understandable. This Laertes doesn’t want revenge out of a sense of honour or obligation. He wants revenge because he wants to hurt the person who took his beloved family from him and Shamji’s delivery never leaves a doubt about that. He also shines in the intense sword fight at the end of the play.

The unexpected versatile surprise of the evening is without a doubt Ansu Kabia, portraying the ghost of King Hamlet, the Player King and the Gravedigger. If the programme didn’t confirm it, I’d never suspect all three characters to be played by the same actor. Kabia’s Player King is very intense and his monologue recital did indeed bring tears to my eyes. His Gravedigger is, just as Shakespeare intended, a clown with great comedic timing and a great feeling for rhythm. When the character uses the dug up skulls as a kind of drumset to entertain himself, it seems somehow morbid and at the same time incredibly funny, all thanks to Kabia’s on-point performance. But his most impressive performance of the night is his portrayal of the old King Hamlet. He lends the ghost a very own physis and manner of walking that really makes him seem like he’s out of this world. It is a ghost who is in pain – pain over his own death, pain over the loss of his family, pain over his brother’s betrayal, pain over being trapped in the state between living and dead. Kabia allows the audience to see, hear and feel that pain in every step, in every word.

And last but not least, there is Tom Hiddleston, who simply owns the role of Hamlet. All of his many talents shine throughout the play, most of all his physical presence on stage, his flawless technique and his ability to deliver Shakespeare lines with the greatest ease and, at the same time, so much meaning, depth and emotion. His Hamlet is a complex one. He’s confident and yet so doubting and vulnerable. He’s calm and yet there is an ocean of emotions raging inside him. He’s grieving and dealing with sadness and yet he’s surprisingly funny and at ease sometimes. He’s gentle and yet his words can hurt more than any sword ever could. The list of polar opposites in this Hamlet goes on and on and on. And Hiddleston manages to switch between them in the blink of an eye and every new emotion, every new idea simply hits the nail on the head. His ‘To be or not to be’ isn’t a question at all. The confidence with which he delivers the famous soliloquy is almost shocking and leaves no doubt that his character has very well understood one of the most essential questions of human existance. Unfortunately, not all monologues are that convincing. There are moments in which Hiddleston’s delivery feels a bit too recited, too rehearsed even. In these moments, I wished for a more emotional and less restrained Hamlet. But none of this changes the fact that Tom Hiddleston’s performance is absolutely outstanding. The sheer power he radiates on stage makes it impossible not to connect with the character and not to feel what he feels. He also once again shows great comedic timing and it is hopefully only a matter of time until he is cast in a full-on (Shakespeare) comedy. And after witnessing live how he makes Shakespeare’s words his own and gives them new power and meaning, I am now once and for all convinced that Tom Hiddleston is the best Shakespearean actor the world has seen in a very long time.

For someone familiar with Kenneth Branagh’s œuvre, there are many moments and little details that bear his handwriting. Combined with a stellar cast, his understanding and obvious appreciation of Shakespeare created a production of Hamlet that is very true to the literary original and yet demands enough freedom to be original and unique. It is also a nice nod towards Shakespeare and the exclusively male actors of his time, that the Player Queen in the play in the play is actually portrayed by a man.

Sure, in general, it isn’t a groundbreaking staging that offers some never before seen take on the play. But as a complete work of art, the production is absolutely coherent and offers unforgettable cast performances as well as true emotions. And due to the close proximity of the audience to the stage, it is basically impossible to escape those emotions that range from wholehearted laughter to heartbreaking tears. Emotions that still move me when I think back to what I was allowed to experience at the theatre. The production is a union of laughter and tears, delivered with great honesty. And when theatre is so honest and moving and technically flawless, it doesn’t need to be groundbreaking to be phenomenal.

https://katbwritings.wordpress.com/2017/09/21/a-union-of-laughter-and-tears/

[enchantedbyhiddles]

Hamlet: A very short and abridged version (Act 3)

Act 1 Act 2

Scene I

The whole bunch is conspiracing together.

King: Okay, what the hell is wrong with Hamlet? Guildencrantz: No, fucking idea. He is weird, but we don’t know why. King: Okay, new plan. Ophelia, you will stay here and “accidently” walk into Hamlet and we’ll watch you. Ophelia: Okay. Gertrude: Good luck! Really hope my son is madly in love with you! *pinches her cheek*

Everyone but Ophelia leaves and Hamlet comes in.

Hamlet: To be or not to be. If I kill myself, is death like sleep? And if I already feel bad now, do I get nightmares when I’m dead? Everything is so awful and my life is such a burden. Oh god. I just want to die. The more I think about it, the more I’m afraid of it. Woe is me. – Oh, Ophelia is here. Ophelia *waving the book that her dad made her read, so that she looks “intelligent and not just hot”*: HI! *shit was that weird? Do I look natural? Act natural! This is not a set-up. Our dads are not hiding behind that curtain. Shit, the socks of my dad are really ugly!* Hamlet: Hey, hey, hey! Either you’re hot and a slut, or honest and ugly. What is it? Ophelia: *shocked* What? Hamlet: I never loved you. So fuck off!  Ophelia: I thought you loved me? How could I be such a fool. *stay calm Ophelia. Don’t cry in front of him. He doesn’t deserve to treat you like shit. You are worth so much more than him. Only one more moment and you can cry all you want* Hamlet: *shrugs* Your problem. I’m mad. MAD! *wents away* Ophelia: *still stunned* He totally lost it and that breaks my heart. (Seriously. Poor Ophelia. Her boyfriend could have simply have broken up with her. No, he needs to humiliate and hurt her. And still insists that she never should have anyone else. Hamlet is a super asshole.)

King and Polonius come back.

King: Well, he’s obviously not in love with her. That guy is mental. We have to get rid of him. Polonius: I’m still convinced that he got mad, because Ophelia rejected him! (Yay, you both win prizes for fathers of the year. Do you have any heart? Obviously not.)

Scene II

Hamlet and the players

Hamlet: I’m the best director ever! (And Shakespeare is a show-off. No reason whatsoever for this, but his Gary Stue named Hamlet is good at everything and now teaches famous actors: speak normal, don’t scream, don’t wave your arms like a windmill, don’t exaggerate so much, less is more.)

*everyone prepares the play*

Hamlet: Horatio! Horatio: Here. Hamlet: You’re the only one I trust. I have this great plan. I will make everyone watch the play tonight that is exactly what the ghost told me, and you and I will watch my uncle and if he flinches he is the murderer. (Yes, Shakespeare. We got it. No need to make this story a big monologue again! Oh, too late.)

*everyone comes back to watch the play*

Polonius: Did I ever tell you how I was this great actor in my youth? At university! (No, one is interested in your stories. No, one. So shut up! *me drags away Guildencrantz who try to kiss up to everyone*)

Hamlet tries to cuddle with Ophelia

Ophelia: *this is awkward* You seem fine now. Hamlet: Nah, I’m only joking. Or am I? Maybe I’m flirting. ;) Nah. Ophelia: *awkward* *don’t do anything to set him off again* (Poor Ophelia. Hamlet is the typical abusive boyfriend and now she doesn’t know what to do. RUN!)

*CUT* Here would be the whole play in play, that was already played once, the changes discussed, the reasons about it explained twice already. *I love Shakespeare, but I hate this scene. Another half  hour in an already very long play. Explain it or show it. The audience isn’t dumb. *

*Claudius storms off*

Horatio and Hamlet: Claudius hates the play. He was the killer! (Really? Maybe you are just a bad director. And writer. And overall not as brilliant as you pretended. Nah. Okay. Just joking. ;D) Guildencrantz: What an end to the evening. Claudius and Gertrude are in their respective rooms and your mum wants to see you.

Scene III

Kings’ room

King to Guildencrantz: I hate that guy Hamlet. You go with him to England.

Guildencrantz leave and Claudius is alone

Claudius: Yeah, I killed my brother and I’m the villain. Now I’m king and married my sister-in-law. But sorry? I mean it is two months already, get over it! Let’s pray it away. Hamlet: I should kill him! Shit. Can’t do that while he’s praying. Maybe later.

Scene IV

Queen’s room

Polonius: The mad Hamlet will be here shortly. Make a scene and I’m your bodyguard behind this curtain. Hamlet: Hey, mother. Or aunt. Whatever. You’re a slut and a liar and a whore! Are you also a murderess? Gertrude: How dare you speak that way with your mother! Hamlet: I speak that way, because your new husband killed my dad! Gertrude: ?? Hamlet: Whore. Murderess. Slut. You disgust me. Is my uncle good in bed? Can’t be. You’re old. So sick! Fucking the murderer of my dad. How can you look in the mirror? Heh? Gertrude: SHUT UP! I don’t want to think about it. Ghost flies by: Woohooo! You have a mission! Don’t forget about me! Gertrude: Is there something? Hamlet: Just your husband. My dad. As a ghost. - Wait, you don’t see him? RIGHT THERE? He tells me to kill you! Gertrude: You’re truly mad. Hamlet: But first I kill the rat that was behind this curtain all the time. Die!

*stabs Polonius behind the curtain* (Hamlet, you get a star. It says “You tried”.)

Hamlet: Whoopsy. Wrong guy. Oh well, I’m off to England anyway, with my friends that are supposed to kill me. Bye!

Gertrude is having a nervous breakdown. Probably. I would.

And so in Act 3 everything went to shit. From a slightly dysfunctional family, to total disaster. Well done, Hamlet. You’re the hero. Truly.

Act 4 Act 5

#hamlet: a very short and abridged version #by me

[mostweakhamlets]

Noble Hearts: Hamlet fanfic Ch. 2

Modern college AU. Oneshots from the gang’s time at Wittenberg.

I made up politics for this and gave the Danish monarch more power than what they really do lol

Chapter 2: To Thine Ownself Be True

“Horatio, my ice cream is melting.”

“What do you want me to do about it? Eat it faster.”

Hamlet leaned into Horatio’s side, finding a comfortable spot against the bony shoulder. He really should have found some exciting interest in the news, but it mostly made him nervous. The only thing that was cheering him up was the ice cream Rosencrantz and Guildenstern brought, but he even had to set that aside on the coffee table when his stress ate away at his appetite.

“I don’t want to talk about this in classes tomorrow,” he said.

“Your classes?” Rosencrantz asked, mouth full of ice cream. “I’d think you’d be afraid of talking to your father.”

“I’m don’t want to talk to him, either. I don’t want to talk to anyone about politics.”

“You should have thought about that before you became prince,” Guildenstern said.

Horatio ran his fingers through Hamlet’s hair. Horatio was his only sympathetic ear during the elections. He understood that Hamlet was anxious and felt ill thinking about the wrong people ending up in parliament. It was hard being a prince. He had to talk to these people, and he had to meet with the prime minister all the time, and he was really worried about that. He begged his father to listen to what he had to say. But as usual, his father calmly told him to not worry and to trust him.

“I’d be more afraid talking to Ophelia,” Horatio said.

“God, I’m afraid of how this is going to play out for her,” Rosencrantz said.

Hamlet watched the journalist announce another seat won for the Red-Green Alliance. He wrinkled his nose in disgust. The party wasn’t bad, and he didn’t mind them getting another seat. He only worried about the Social Democrats (or the red bloc in general) ending up with less seats than they currently had. Or, more importantly, the Venstre Party gaining too many seats, and Polonius being a leader of a significant chunk of Parliament.

“It’ll be fine,” Guildenstern said. “Her father’s party isn’t moving from their rank. There’s no way. I was just talking to my mom about this.”

There was something a little off about Polonius. Hamlet couldn’t quite place what it was. Ophelia was a great friend, and he didn’t have the heart to tell her that her father seemed just a tad crazy. His own father didn’t even like hearing Hamlet claim that Polonius was unfit for politics.

“What’s with the face?” Horatio asked, poking Hamlet in the cheek.

“I don’t like this reporter.”

“Why?”

“She says mean things about me when I’m not there to defend myself.”

“Like what?”

“She said that I was rude for talking to my mother during some press conference. Who gets called rude for talking to their mother? I don’t have to listen to my father when he addresses reporters. I know what he says. I sit in at meetings.”

“Eat your ice cream, love.”

“She’s also called me fat.”

“No, she hasn’t.”

“Okay she hasn’t… but I bet she would. A lot of people do.”

Horatio wrapped his arm around Hamlet. Guildenstern laughed.

“Including me,” he said.

“Aww… leave him alone,” Rosencrantz said. “Hamlet, we love you--.”

“Fuck!”

Hamlet sat up. The Venstre Party had eight more seats added to their colorful bar at the bottom of the screen. They replaced the Danish People’s Party and slid up to the second rank.

“They just replaced the far-right,” Horatio said. “What’s wrong with that?”

“They have more seats,” Hamlet said. “We don’t want any conservative party getting more seats.”

“Social Democrats still have the most,” Rosencrantz said. “Red bloc is doing fine right now.”

“They’re going to fall behind. Venstre’s never done this well before. They never get so many seats.”

“You know, I hate to say this, but Polonius did do a good job at all those debates. God knows how. He’s usually a rambling idiot. He must have really struck a chord with everyone.”

Rosencrantz sounded slightly somber. It worried Hamlet even more. Rosencrantz was hardly ever serious, and Hamlet depended on that.

They looked at each other. Rosencrantz’s eyebrows were lifted in some emotion Hamlet didn’t know. Whatever it was -- sorrow, worry, sympathy -- it had never been on his face before. Hamlet only knew his awkward laughs and forced smiles when times were hard.

“Venstre’s turned out a lot of prime ministers,” Hamlet mumbled.

“You don’t really think Polonius of all people is going to be prime minister, do you?” Rosencrantz asked.

“I don’t know. My dad kinda likes him. There’s something about him that makes him so likeable, and I don’t get it.”

“He’s smart. My mom told me that he’s been to very elite schools.”

“He’s been under the public’s radar this whole time.”

“That’s what makes him so loveable. No one knew him, but then he popped up out of nowhere and had all these credentials. And we’re probably bias. We know him as Ophelia’s father.”

“I guess he’s impressive, but… It’s like no one has heard him talk before! It’s like he’s delivering some monologue every time he opens his mouth. He doesn’t need to talk so much.”

“He doesn’t even say much. He just makes it sound like he thought about everything way beforehand.”

“And somehow Ophelia came from him.”

“Shut up,” Horatio hissed. “Social Democrats got three more seats.”

“Thank god.”

Hamlet relaxed back into the couch. Horatio’s hand rested on his leg, his thumb stroking his thigh.

The reporter was talking again, telling everyone how close the blue bloc was to catching up to the red bloc. It was infuriating. Hamlet’s skin crawled as he thought about the conservatives getting the majority of the seats once they all grouped together. He didn’t want to imagine who he’d get stuck with in council meetings once his father “listened to the people” and chose some old, saggy-skinned, grey-haired right winger as prime minister. It would probably be Polonius, too, if his party stayed the second largest.

As much as Hamlet adored Ophelia, he was incredibly unnerved by her family. Polonius wasn’t even the worst. He had met her brother, Laertes, earlier that semester when he visited her on campus. He struck Hamlet as a bully and possessive. There was only so much Hamlet could stand of him before he excused himself back to his room to work on homework. The last thing Laertes said to him was to stay away from Ophelia, for she deserved someone else’s better love.

Hamlet would have loved to have pointed to his boyfriend at that moment, but Horatio was working. He settled for walking away after kissing Ophelia on the cheek.

“More results are coming in,” the reporter said. “The Venstre Party has gained 7 seats, leaving them only 12 seats behind the Social Democrats Party. Here to discuss the sudden, unexpected popularity of the liberal-conservative party are two analysts--”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Guildenstern whispered.

The camera zoomed out to reveal two men in suits sitting with the reporter at a glass table.

Hamlet’s phone vibrated against the coffee table.

“Shit.”

He grabbed it and answered, running from the room and to the front door.

“Hi, dad.”

“Are you watching the election, kiddo?”

His father’s voice on the other end was loud as usual. There was some sort of background noise, and Hamlet imagined his parents were in a room full of other politicians.

He sighed. “Yeah.”

He stepped outside, the cold air hitting his cheeks and stiffening his lungs.

“Polonius could take the lead tonight.”

“Could he? Really? The polls said that the Social Democrats were going to have the most seats and they would push the red bloc into the majority.”

“The polls aren’t always right. You know that.”

“But they can’t be this wrong.”

“We’re just going to have to wait and watch.”

Hamlet wrapped his free arm around himself and shifted from foot to foot. He could see his breath frost over in front of him. It floated over his head until it faded right before hitting the landing above.

“And we’re going to get a new prime minister tonight, you know that,” his dad said.

Hamlet closed his eyes. “Yeah…”

“And if the blue bloc pulls ahead, I think I’m going to appoint Polonius.”

“But why? He’s not good enough to be prime minister.”

“Hamlet, that’s your personal judgement. If he’s leading the most popular bloc, then that’s what the people want. And we have to--”

“Listen to the people and serve them. I know. But it’s also my professional judgement that he’s senile.”

“He is not senile. He’s barely older than your mother and I, so watch what you say.”

“But you’re both so good looking and sharp for your ages.”

“If you weren’t the heir, I’d suggest you become a comedian.”

“Thank you.”

“Hamlet, Polonius is qualified for the job. Besides, Claudius has worked with him before, and they think highly of each other.”

“Wait. Uncle Claudius gets a say in this? But I don’t?”

“He doesn’t get a say. He’s just passing along advice, and I’m listening to all the advice I get.”

“Can I give you my advice?”

His father sighed. “What is it?”

“Just think about it a little more before you actually decide tonight? Please? Polonius may be leading the right wing, but that doesn’t mean he can run a country with us. Popularity doesn’t mean capability.”

“Alright. For your sake, I’ll take some more time.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re the one that’s going to see the new PM in council meetings, anyways.”

“But being the crown prince is only a summer job. Unless the new PM decides I have to prioritize politics over school.”

His father laughed. “Go back to watching the results. Don’t stay up if they go on too late. You have classes tomorrow.”

“I won’t.”

“Goodnight, kiddo.”

“Goodnight.”

His father was totally not going to take his advice to heart as much as Hamlet wanted him to. He trudged back inside, looking at his friends still crowded around the television.

“Who was that?” Horatio asked.

“My dad.”

“Did he tell you anything top secret?” Guildenstern asked.

“No. He just called to ask if I was watching.”

He walked past the sitting room and towards the hall. He feared watching the rest of the election would make him ill now that he knew Polonius was almost definitely going to be prime minister. And partially thanks to Claudius. Hamlet had a deep, bad feeling about their partnership, but his father would never listen to a gut feeling.

“Where are you going, love?”

“I’m not feeling well. I’m going to lay down.”

“Do you want us to leave?” Rosencrantz asked.

“No! Stay. It’s alright. I might come back out. I just…”

He didn’t bother finishing his sentence before disappearing behind his bedroom door. They were all used to his habits and mood swings by that point. They shouldn’t have been bothered.

An hour passed with Hamlet occasionally hearing commentary outside his room. It was muffled and the words were lost, but Hamlet could hear the tones of the three boys.

He checked his phone every so often when he got a text from a friend from home, asking if he saw the recent jump in seats. Every time he looked up the results, he felt nauseous and regretted it and returned to his book.

Elections had never affected him so much before. There was never a political party he feared would get undeserved power, and he never worried that his father’s decision would be so aggravating. He tried telling himself that he should put his trust in his people like his father told him to. He wanted to be the prince his father wanted him to be: calm, loyal, and conscious to his country’s needs. But it was borderline impossible when all he wanted to do was call his father and beg him like a child to not appoint Polonius.

Maybe he was just too young. Maybe once he aged out of college, he would understand that instincts weren’t always meant to be listened to. He might value logic a bit more and find unwavering confidence in statistics. If the citizens were favoring a man, then he would find it easier to accept despite his own opinions. Maybe he would learn to cast his own opinions aside, too.

He really wanted to stay a child forever and let his father reign for decades longer.

“Hamlet?”

There were light knocks on the door.

“Are you awake?”

“Yes,” he called, sitting up and leaning against the headboard of his bed.

Rosencrantz stepped in, trying his best to smile despite the obvious hesitance in his eyes. Hamlet set his book aside and tried to brace himself for bad news.

“The last of the results came in,” Rosencrantz said.

His voice was too quiet. Hamlet didn’t even know it was possible for him to be so quiet. Ever since their childhood, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern had been loud and rambunctious. They were constantly being put in opposite corners of classrooms and scolded by their parents for running around. Hamlet loved that about them. He was always the quiet child, forced to be polite from birth to avoid any diplomatic hiccups. They helped him learn to find some of his childhood freedom while they never grew out of theirs.

“I don’t think I want to know,” Hamlet laughed.

He looked at his lap, pressing his lips together. Maybe he could get one more decent night’s sleep if he just ignored it all.

He felt fingers trail through his hair. He closed his eyes and leaned into the touch.

Rosencrantz was surprisingly more gentle than Horatio. He knew where Hamlet’s hair would knot up and avoided the areas before his fingers came even close. It was a touch Hamlet hadn’t felt for years.

It was as though they were fifteen again, spending the summer afternoons in the courtyard of the palace. Hamlet would lay with his head in Rosencrantz lap, reading poetry and novels out loud as flowers were placed in his hair that was lightening significantly from the sun. Rosencrantz’s freckles came out that year as well. They were always there, against his pale skin like someone had flicked orange paint at him. But after only a month, they spread across his nose and cheeks to under his long hair that hung in his face for a couple years.

The freckles that Hamlet had once kissed were still there, faded only slightly under adult eyes staring at him with concern.

“Venstre has the most seats,” Rosencrantz said. “And they’re forming a coalition with the Danish People’s Party.”

“The Danish People’s Party?”

Rosencrantz nodded.

“Why them? They’re awful people. They’re bigoted swine.”

“I don’t know. Polonius just announced that he’s had this deal with them. It’s not official… yet. But it will be by tomorrow, I’m sure.”

“That absolute jerk! Those people voted for his party, not the Danish People’s. He should have… Who would have thought that he wanted a coalition with them? They don’t agree. That swine!” Hamlet shouted.

He jumped to his feet. Rosencrantz wasn’t startled in the slightest.

“That absolutely, miserable, no-good, ass-kissing swine! He shouldn’t get to partner with a party he openly disagreed with! He went out there and said to the other leader’s face that he doesn’t agree with his policies. But he’s been buddies with him this whole time? How many seats does that give them? Who else are they adding to this? They’re going to go for a majority government for fuck’s sake. I know it. No one’s going to be able to stop their legislation from being passed. There’s not going to be enough people outside their coalition.”

Hamlet struggled to catch his breath. Rosencrantz rose. For once, he was the calm one.

He wrapped his arms around Hamlet and pulled him into a hug. Hamlet laid his head down on his shoulder.

“And he’s going to end up being prime minister,” Hamlet said, voice not strong enough to be above a whisper.

“You’ll figure something out.”

But Hamlet didn’t know where to begin untangling it all. He could call his father again and try to change his mind, but it would still leave the conservatives in power in parliament. There was a chance the partnership would be broken before they made it official. If they couldn’t reach any agreements, they would be forced to go their separate ways. Hamlet could hold on to a little sliver of hope that their secret affair would be broken up. Maybe he could deal with Polonius better if he knew that Polonius didn’t control most of the parliament.

Hamlet’s stomach churned. He didn’t want the right wing to have absolute power. Not with how they all campaigned that season. They all pushed for anti-immigration laws and spewed racist rhetorics. Polonius was the only one who kept the middle ground, but it was all starting to unravel as a lie. And Hamlet knew Polonius couldn’t have been trusted.

What would happen to his Denmark? His family had preached tolerance and acceptance for years, and their country was built on those morals. Hamlet’s Denmark was a welcoming place for so many people. It wasn’t perfect, but he was proud of it. And what would happen with Polonius in power? Would he keep betraying everyone beyond what the monarch could fix?

Hamlet pulled away from Rosencrantz, feeling shaky and sweaty.

“Are you okay?”

It felt like his dinner had solidified in his stomach. He was afraid of moving, but he was also unsure if he could continue standing. He ran his hands through his hair and shook his head, unable to get out an audible “no.”

Rosencrantz took him by the elbow and started leading him out of the room. As bile began to raise in Hamlet’s throat, he pulled away and ran for the bathroom.

He fell to his knees in front of the toilet with the force of a guilty sinner seeing Christ. His entire body convulsed as he heaved, totally out of his control.

“Jesus.”

Rosencrantz knelt next to him. He grabbed his hair and swept it back off his forehead and began rubbing his back. His hands felt so nice. They were delicate, as usual, and were supportive.

“Is he okay?” Horatio called through the closed door.

“I got him!” Rosencrantz called back.

Hamlet felt guilty thinking that he didn’t want Horatio there at that moment. Horatio didn’t always understand the stress of politics.

Another retch moved through his body, and vomit spilled out of his mouth with a moan.

“You’re okay,” Rosencrantz whispered. “It’s all okay.”

Hamlet’s head felt detached from his body. It was like it was floating a foot above, looking down at the stomach acid and food sitting in toilet. Nothing felt real to him. Not physically. If he reached out to touch the toilet paper Rosencrantz was handing to him, it would probably disintegrate. He took it anyways. He figured his mouth and nose was probably a mess.

The door opened, and he heard Horatio talking.

“Is he okay?” he heard asked again. Maybe the repetition was a hallucination.

“He got a little overwhelmed.” Or maybe not.

Horatio stepped in, and Hamlet looked up at him. Having to look up made his head feel a little closer to himself.

“Come on, you. Let’s get to bed.”

Horatio bent down, and Hamlet was being lifted. He instinctively put his arms around Horatio’s neck as he was carried out and to their bedroom.

His jeans were tugged off and he was put under the blankets, and he wasn’t really positive how it was all happening.

Horatio’s hands were in his hair like they could pull his bad thoughts out or like they could put his head back where it belonged. A glass was raised to his lips, and a fizzy soda tickled his nose and washed away the burning of acid in his throat.

“We’re going to head out,” Guildenstern said. “Do you need anything before we go?”

“No,” Horatio replied. “I think he’s okay now. I got him from here.”

Horatio kept working at his hair and cheekbones and temples until Hamlet came back to himself, and he was sure Horatio was solid in front of him.

“How pissed would Ophelia be if she found out?” he mumbled.

“That you puked after her dad won the most seats in Parliament? I’m sure our Ophelia would be understanding.”

Horatio kissed his forehead. “Get some sleep. God know you’re in for a hell of a day tomorrow.”

Hamlet closed his eyes. His body, for once, was too exhausted to let his mind keep him up. It wasn’t a restful sleep. But it was sleep.

#hamlet #my fics #tragic danish boyfriends #noble hearts #sorry to denmark i fucked up your politcs

[remainingso]

Has anyone asked you to do the "Top 5 things you'd change about a book" about Hamlet yet?

oh my gOD NO 

okay I actually have a lot of Opinions because I was going to put on a mini production of hamlet in grade12 but I ran out of time, but I already made a lot of cuts & changes and stuff 

SO 

My biggest nerd complaint is that to be or not to be is weirdly placed—my favourite place for it is immediately after Hamlet fucks with Polonius in act II scene ii (instead of in act III). There’s this bit where Hamlet is leaving and he v sarcastically says: “You cannot, sir, take from me any thing that I willmore willingly part withal: except my life, exceptmy life, except my life.”(Basically ‘I’d rather die than spend more time with you’) And I always like the three ‘except my life’s said w/the first starting out dramatic and sarcastic as per usual hamlet, but slowly gaining more realization, like joking about how he wants to kill himself for fun, but slowly realizing that, shit, he wants to kill himself. And then, boom: the to be or not to be speech, highlighting the performative nature of the speech bc he maybe knows polonius & claudius are there, but also making it stark that even if he’s performing, deep down, it’s all true 

Act III is a mess tbh, I’d streamline it a lot (don’t ask me how yet because I don’t have this play memorized, much as it might seem like I do, and I don’t want to trawl through my copy and detail specifically what I’d change right now, I’m lazy LOL) & also give more indication to Hamlet and R&G’s relationship pre-play because it’s so interesting to think about 

This isn’t really anything I want to change about the text, BUT, wrt most productions, I am staunchly against cutting out Fortinbras. He gets cut a lot because of time constraints and issues, I know, I know, but he’s so important because he highlights how weird the nature of kingship is in this play, and ending it on Horatio telling him the entire story is just so important to me 

Another note about most productions, because I...actually do think that Ophelia’s role in this play is poignant and played out pretty well because it is a tragedy, and it comes off as a heartbreaking study in how depriving women of power & agency can ruin them as much as bequeathing power to men can be ruinous, SO, I hate hate hate when productions have Ophelia acting hyper sexual after she goes mad, because the sad part to me is how traditional she becomes, how small, how sad, how quiet and easily shoved aside. 

MORE GERTRUDE. There’s a cut scene in the second quarto and folio versions that had Gertrude and Horatio talking and basically showed how much Gertrude knew about the plot and everything and it’s so badass I wish we kept this scene more often. In general, though, I want to see more about Gertrude & why she marries Claudius and how much she knew about Claudius’s plan to kill Hamlet at the end (’cause if she knew, in the last scene, Claudius offers hamlet the poisoned wine, and Gertrude is always offering to wipe hamlet brow, give him water, interrupt Claudius from giving him the wine, SO. Imagine the delicious dramatic irony if we know gertrude knows, but we also don’t know how much claudius knows, i.e. does he know that she knows too???? AND imagine how much more badass “I will drink my Lord. I pray you forgive me.” would be. wHAT IF THE FORGIVE ME LINE IS DELIVERED NOT TO CLAUDIUS, BUT TO HAMLET? BECAUSE SHE THINKS SHE’S SAVING HIM. BECAUSE SHE THINKS HE MIGHT LIVE, IF SHE DOES THIS. okay I’ll show myself out, I gave myself feelings) 

This was ridiculously long omg I’m sorry for rambling for so much, but you probably knew what you were getting into when you asked me about hamlet 

#THANKS FOR GIVING ME THE OPPORTUNITY TO RAMBLE <3 #the great literary love of my life #warriorqueenofsarcasm

[thepillareddark]

The Good and the Bad about the Barbican’s Antony and Cleopatra

I talk about the Barbican’s Hamlet with Cumberbatch a lot, not because I totally hated it, or because I thought all of it was bad, but because I think it’s such a wonderful and dense nexus of all the things that are interesting and strange about how we perceive acting, theatre and Shakespeare today. It’s presented and produced like a blockbuster film, with loads of excellently executed visual effects which are included at the expense of the actual lines in the play, and it so totally focuses on Cumberbatch (because he’s famous) that he arrives in the play at the cost of any artistic intention or immersion. 

The thing I want to focus on today, which is carried harmfully into A and C, is exactly how Shakespeare is handled: both plays turn scenes and lines into just one thing. So the bedroom scene is played only for tragedy, or the Polonius lines are played only for comedy, or in A and C the early Cleopatra scenes are played only for her “hot and warm/catch me if you can” kind of romantic playfulness. In turn, the speech rhythms and verse is converted into TV language, and every scene becomes played overwhelmingly like it was a scene from TV. I’m going to try and explain this at length in text.

To clarify two things: when I say “carried harmfully” I think it might be moreover the case that this is the pit that all nearly-great Shakespeare falls into. The best productions still handle the quantum nature (I’ll explain quantum in another post but I just mean ‘two-things-at-once’) of the plays very well. But the ones which can’t quite get there turn the plays into TV because they know it’ll play well in front of an audience, and because it’s relatively easy to do very well with talented actors. Therefore to say that 2015 Hamlet started it and it’s “carried” into this one just because it’s at the same theatre is probably wrong, but it’s a nice way to think about it. The other thing to clarify is that I wrote “in text”. This is because if I could use audio and video, or if I could be there to talk it to you directly, then you might understand exactly what I’m trying to refer to a lot more quickly than when I’m trying to write it. 

Okay, so, by conversion into TV, what I mean is that Shakespeare’s writing is rich enough to mean a bunch of things at once, and that at a very simple level, the basic act of putting it on is to string a bunch of references or themes through until they all make sense in their complexity by the end. A and C is a nicely simple one to demonstrate this with because of the poison motif. It ends with two deaths by poison- but poison is referred to throughout. Love is like poison, intentions are like poison, maybe honour is like poison- that’s the extended conceit. The reason it’s so beautiful and complex is because, to take it into a humanist region, we can say that Cleopatra represents the drive of dying-in-love. The dying is like an imaginative sleep which becomes elemental and strange and separate from life, and entering that sleep is necessarily like dying. So what happens is the motif of “sleep is dying” becomes “living is like sleep when you’re in love”. One of the other themes that gets referenced throughout is therefore sleep. Cleopatra has the line:

"That I might sleep out this great gap of time / My Antony is away”

And then MUCH later she says:

“I dream’d there was an Emperor Antony: / O, such another sleep, that I might see / But such another man!”

And so the tension in that second line becomes something (and they played this perfectly in the production) like ‘life is like a sleep too’. She means she would rather dream and see Antony or someone like him again, but she also means that in another life (or sleep) she would want to see someone like him. So once sleep has become like life at the end, then the imaginative, lethe-like poison-sleep which is life in love becomes kind of realised, or shown to the audience through the character. That’s why Cleopatra is so elemental and talks about fire and water, and about herself as an essential kind of matter that can be broken out of this material world.

My language here is pretty rough because it’s not easy to explain the best part of one of Shakespeare’s best and most complex characters in about two paragraphs. It’s more of a feeling. But that feeling depends on lines like:

Antony: “Neglected, rather; / And then when poison’d hours had bound me up / From mine own knowledge.”

In the production he said this very quickly, and the takeaway point I’m trying to get to is that at the very basic level of Shakespeare, you need to at least say these things slowly, or let important words like “poison” and “sleep” linger, rather than skipping over them, if you want to hit the all important beats of the story. Because only then can you draw out their multiple meanings. Again, it’s a lot more complex than this to do a really great Shakespeare, but this is a good guide if you want to do the minimum. 

And he said that line quickly because it was demanded by the production. It comes in a scene with Caesar and the others where he was explaining why he was away, and because they were using that whole scene to make it clear to the audience what the basic narrative drive of this exact moment was: “Caesar is pissed off that Antony left, but Antony is willing to make amends”. As a result you had a lot of one character walking away while a line was delivered, then they wring their head and turn around and say something back. This became the kind of basic rhythm of that scene: one character would attack or apologise, and rush through their lines because they were focusing more on the TV-esque deliverance of the line so they could make clear the MEANING of the line to the audience, without actually lingering on the language of the line or what it actually says. So the language (and this is throughout the play) was very often subordinated to the delivery of the line in a particular cadence which would say what it had to mean for the narrative. 

So the above line only had to mean, according to the director under the pressures of appeasing an audience which is assumed to not easily understand Shakespeare, “I didn’t ignore you, I just forgot because I was with Cleopatra”. So when he said “neglected” everyone laughed because they’d just seen the Cleopatra scene, and they understood the man-in-love archetype, and to reinforce what the meaning was all the Caesar characters rolled their eyes and stood backwards like “oh come on”. It’s good for energy, it makes things clear, it an update some antiquated language or syntax if you want it to, but it also turns it into something with ONE meaning, it reduces it to TV. Because the language of the line didn’t matter, and the Shakespeare was only being used for the drive of the scene, he could’ve said “I only neglected my duties, because I was with Cleopatra, I didn’t quite forget about you, Caesar”- and it would’ve honestly had the same effect.

The fact is the whole play is kind of in that line, and if they’d had Antony really act it than just say it for clarification, then SO much could’ve been harvested from it. The question of neglecting the real world because you are poisoned, the idea that the poison might be a good thing or a bad thing, or desired because it IS bad because love is like death and death like love, or that he is overhearing himself saying the line even as he considers it, then that wonderful idea that there might be something like “knowledge” which can sometimes, in the Cleopatra state, be separate from lived experience, like there can be two whole sensually separate ways to live- that’s the brilliance of the line and the language. 

And the audience would’ve got that, I really think, if he’d just paused and brought the line out. The fact was that not a single line in this play, and I don’t think in any Shakespeare for many years, was actually delivered in Iambic Pentameter. Not one. They do the thing in the play with maybe 95% of the lines where they say it like it’s normal conversation. Now, it is well known that normal speech rhythms are inherently embedded in iambic pentameter, which is what makes this possible at all- but they’ll do a thing (and the person who played Caesar brilliantly still did this with every single line) where they pause on one word and then say the rest of it quickly, then pause again on a word and keep going, until they run into the next line from someone else who half interrupts them. It makes it sound a lot like speech, and I assume people get impressed that a 1600s playwright could sound like right-now, but anyone who cares about Shakespeare will know that anyway, so they might as well not do it constantly. 

I get it though, it makes for good and watchable drama. But TV is also good, watchable drama. I don’t want to go to the theatre to see the best plays ever written played as TV, though. 

And what’s funny, and what I don’t get, is that no-one pointed out during rehearsals that all the best bits that they had created depended on slowing down and focusing on the language and doing real Shakespeare. I first thought that this had the potential to be good when it got to the bit when all the lights went down and focused on Enobarbus, and he delivered the monologue about Cleopatra’s barge line for line, word for word, drawing out all of the meaning. That was brilliant. And what was funny was that you could actually hear the audience focusing on it, and finding it brilliant. It’s like something had changed, and for a moment everyone, including the actors, knew that this was high Shakespeare. They could hear the old voice speaking to them, and they had the same wonder as Shakespeare, and the same wonder as the actors and as everyone else, for that weird love-barge that seduces and puts to sleep everything in its range. 

That was the best bit of the first half- and then for lots of bit in the second half they did the same thing. They focused on the words. They let actors speak at length and actually use their acting skills. I get that there are time constraints and that you maybe can’t do the whole play like that, even though the whole play would respond to it like that, I’m just saying that if you ARE going to cut so many lines, then at least make it in service of spending a lot of time on a FEW lines, not so we don’t get bored and not so you can have special effects and dancing. Because those language moments were the moments when it was brilliant- which, surely, should come at no surprise at all to anyone. And that’s why I’m surprised they didn’t do it more if they had it in their arsenal, I’m surprised none of these incredibly smart and brilliant actors didn’t think to deliver it less like conversation and more like Shakespeare. And I’m not going to go over all the points where that happened because that would just be repeating Shakespeare’s own brilliance, which is the best compliment I could give. 

I do want to zone in on one very fascinating moment, when Cleopatra said this:

My resolution's placed, and I have nothing Of woman in me: now from head to foot I am marble-constant

And as she did she actually took off her wig and showed herself to be bald. This was an amazing moment because it was really postmodern, it was going beyond the veil of the drama and doing something very weird: presenting a holy object on stage which was a kind of human-beyond-human, a kind of pure element which wasn’t female or male, which really showed us this:

Give me my robe, put on my crown; I have Immortal longings in me

And that’s where it was really great, almost confusingly great. At that point it was way beyond me and the audience: what does it mean for an actor to disrobe their simulation and become a pure element, to realise those seducive immortal longings? Who knows, it’s beyond us because Shakespeare is beyond us. Lines like:

I am fire and air; my other elements I give to baser life

Are the things that we feel as brilliant, but which critics spend a lifetime explaining in their beauty, only to not get there. And they nearly got there fully on stage at some points with this A and C. And the rest was straight to Netflix. 

#Shakespeare #Antony and Cleopatra #Hamlet #Barbican