Hello fellow Danes! This is my Hamlet Blog. I’ve been writing down my thoughts on process since we decided to go ahead with it. There are some parts that are almost short hand while others are a little more didactic (which could make for some bumpy reading), though I’ve tried to smooth it out as much as possible without compromising the immediacy. Thanks for reading! If you have any questions or comments, you can find my page on Facebook at Kyle McDonald, or you can find me on twitter @mrkmcdonald.

December 13 – Our first stumble through (Spoiler Alert: LOW )

We didn’t get the rehearsal space we wanted, so our quarters were a little cramped, but I was excited to run through none the less. Phil unfortunately was called into work last minute (such are the hazards of not paying people), but we began the run without him. For me, much of my blocking stuck, but that stands to reason because I run my lines at least once a day. The run was a little laborious, and I was tired owing to my Blood Falls training and my many other producerly duties. The stage management team was talking during the run (which is standard), but it still distracting none the less. The run revealed the scenes that didn’t make sense in the context of the whole play, these mostly being the ones we did earlier in the rehearsal period. Personally, I’m pleased with the shape of the piece, I just want to get out there and run. We ended up staying till 11:30 to get notes.

December 14 – Reflections on “To be or not to be,” and Hamlet’s Tables. (Spoiler Alert: HIGH)

I’ve always been intrigued by Hamlet’s sudden – and only – reference to his “tables” in 1.5. after the ghost leaves. To my memory, I’ve never seen anyone do anything with this; why? What are his tables? Judging by the immediacy with which he would reach for them, they’re something he must keep on him all the time. I’ve construed them to be his journal, or more specifically, his notebook. It is here that he records his thoughts and ideas; it is here that he scribbles hasty verses for Ophelia before he enlarges on them and writes them out properly to be given to her; it is here that he chronicles his days; it is here that he keeps track of his disposition; it is here that he sets down his evidence against his uncle and the other pretenders around him; and it is here that he confronts himself. With this understanding of Hamlet and his tables, I’ve endeavoured to use them throughout to the performance to demonstrate his fastidiousness. Seeing a man dressed like a gladiator pouring over his notes gives a very unique impression, I think. Brawn and brains. I’ll be curious to see what the audience reaction to the tables will be, if any.

As for “To be, or not to be,” and Hamlet’s tables: I’ve combined them. To be or not to be is a mental exercise and it is distinctly different from Hamlet’s other speeches (even though “How all occasions do inform against me…” in 4.4., which we’ve unfortunately cut, has some of the rhetorical elements that “To be or not to be” has), and I wanted to highlight this a little further. As mentioned before, I had some trouble with To be or not to be’s placement at this point in the script: O what a rogue and peasant slave is only a page earlier. They’re very tight on each other and very different. To be or not to be appears to be about whether or not to commit suicide, and this interpretation is indeed justifiable; however, I want to go a little deeper, or perhaps a little more abstract? I used to read this passage in school and be awed by its fame, and I didn’t really think too much about it’s meaning (beyond it being about suicide).

Now, however, confronted with the task of speaking these words, and moreover, knowing their meaning, I find myself craving deadly specificity. I’ve thought about this piece for the last few months (obviously), and at last I believe I’ve found what I want to say with it. Hamlet in his soliloquy in 2.2 asks: “Am I a coward?” I was playing this before as a rhetorical device which he uses to mock himself (which, in the context of the rest of that speech, is a very solid interpretation, and one that I’m still inclined to use, though I won’t be doing so in this production); however, I started asking the question legitimately. The trouble then is how to justify the rest of the passage (which I’ve covered in another entry). That being done, I found that the lines “The play’s the thing/Wherein I’ll catch the conscience of the King,” felt doubtful, as though Hamlet isn’t entirely convinced that his plan will work (December 16th entry).

Anyway, Hamlet goes away from this and then comes back with To be or not to be, which I believe is an exploration of cowardice. The relationship of conscience and cowardice is visited several times throughout the piece (we’ve cut some of it too from the top of 5.2.); this relationship is still subtle enough to go unnoticed by many observers. Hamlet’s preoccupation with conscience, salvation and damnation is ubiquitous. The whole reason he puts on the antic disposition (to gather evidence) is a response to his fear of blemishing his conscience; he wants to use the play (the Mouse Trap) to “catch the conscience of the King;” the deaths of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are not near his conscience; even Claudius talks of receiving a smart lash to his conscience in 3.1. before To be or not to be; Laertes, in his outburst against Claudius in 4.5., threatens to hurl his conscience into hell (a willingness to pawn it for revenge, in stark contrast to Hamlet’s caution); Hamlet asks, in 5.1. “is’t not perfect conscience,/To quit [Claudius] with this arm?”; Laertes again, before he strikes Hamlet, confesses that it’s against his conscience.

The word recurs frequently enough throughout the play (especially in Hamlet’s mouth), to make it noteworthy. Hamlet’s language of salvation is recurrent: each time he sees the ghost, he calls on angels to save him; when he’s imploring his mother to change her evil ways, he invokes words like “confess” and “repent”; he stays his hand in murdering Claudius in 3.3., fearing that he might actually save Claudius from hell. His obsession with damnation and crime is also omnipresent, “If it assume my noble father’s person,/ I’ll speak to it, though hell itself should gape/And bid me hold my peace” (1.2.) “foul deeds will rise/Though all the earth o’erwhelm them to men’s eyes” (1.2.), “Be thou a spirit of health, or Goblin damned?” (1.4.), “the spirit that I have seen may be the devil…and perhaps…abuses me to damn me,” (2.2.), “…that his heels may kick at heaven/And that his soul be as damned and black as hell/ Whereto it goes” (3.3.), “…if your messenger find him not there [in heaven], seek him i’the other place yourself [in hell]” (4.3.) and so on. Though, remarkably, Hamlet doesn’t have much to say about heaven or hell after his return in 5.1.

So, when considering all this, we see that To be or not to be is a measured (a quality that Hamlet actually hasn’t displayed much of hitherto) exploration of cowardice and its relationship to conscience. Life is difficult and replete with injustice: why don’t people take matters into their own hands and end the pain? Conscience. Conscience records your every deed, and in a world of more or less clearly delineated religious morality, suicide is a crime, and your conscience will reveal it when you stand at the pearly gates. And so, conscience does make cowards of us all because it ties our hands, and we would rather endure the wretched known, than face the unknown. And it’s in this bumbling morass of confusion and concern that truly great deeds my be smothered, and lose the name of action. A simplistic paraphrasing, but it does the trick.

The argument itself is brief and simple, but what makes this speech a joy for an audience (besides its beauty), are Hamlet’s discoveries as he works through it. This is why I’ve employed the tables: Hamlet is actively diagramming his thought process; this is something that every fledgling logician must learn to do; and while I’m not reasoning with Venn diagrams or anything, I’m still working through the speech as though it were a word puzzle, where each discovery leads to the next. And what I love most, is that just as he reaches “lose the name of action,” he is interrupted by a shuffling Ophelia. I do not think that the speech would have ended there if no one else had been around. I think Hamlet would have moved on to discover the answer that he eventually discovers while out at sea, and which brings him back to Elsinore with a steady and calm determination, and which is very eloquently explained in 5.2. before the duel with Laertes:

“There’s a special providence in the fall of a sparrow. If it be now, ’tis not to come; if it be not to come, it will be now; if it be not now, yet it will come. The readiness is all. Since no man has aught of what he leaves, what is’t to leave betimes? Let be.”

And so Hamlet has answered his own question:

To be, or not to be, that is the question.

Let be.

-Kyle

Friends, scholars, countrymen…

My deepest thanks, and congratulations to all of you! Thanks to your generous support over these last few months Hamlet Live is now ALIVE! It lives and breathes, it livestreams, it is performed live in Toronto, and I, as an artist, am alive with gratitude.

What an unusual creature an actor is, while I’ve done many shows for a paycheck, or the experience, or the character, the most rewarding thing of all is the applause. The moment when you finish and the audience shows their support, not with their wallets, but with their time, their energy, their yells.

I once tried to explain why I wanted to be an actor to my mother… It wasn’t easy. She finally commented that acting seemed a very unforgiving profession, for me to stand up there for a few hours, expending emotions and energy, putting myself into a place of deep pain, or grief, or love, and always conflict. She asked if I wasn’t ‘spent’ after, if I didn’t feel I had lost some part of myself, if perhaps the trade off wasn’t fair?

I told her the applause at the end was the exchange. Two hours of sweating and crying and laughing was always repaid in twenty seconds of applause at the end, and if that wasn’t enough, you could always change really quickly and dash around from the stage door to the front doors to see if you could overhear people chatting about the show.

On opening night one of our crew had the great fortune of overhearing one such comment in the washroom. “The acting was mind-blowing!”

And that one simple compliment has more than made my day, or my week, it’s made my whole year. So without trying to sound like a ham, please, I’d love to hear what you have to say about the show, not for my ego, but for research purposes.

(Ok and a little bit of my ego… )

So if you saw the livestream or the show in person, how was it? What did you like? What didn’t you like? What can we improve? Friends, romans, countrymen, lend me your voices!

Hello fellow Danes! This is my Hamlet Blog. I’ve been writing down my thoughts on process since we decided to go ahead with it. There are some parts that are almost short hand while others are a little more didactic (which could make for some bumpy reading), though I’ve tried to smooth it out as much as possible without compromising the immediacy. Thanks for reading!

Oct 21 – Hamlet and Ophelia. (Spoiler Alert: LOW) We never see them together, really, except after the rupture. There’s room in 1.2., which I want to explore, for them to show something. The turn around between Ophelia receiving the order from her father to have no “…words, or talk with the Lord Hamlet…” to Hamlet’s antic disposition and frightening of Ophelia is very brief. Polonius issues his fiat, Ophelia obeys; by the evening, Hamlet is meeting the ghost, and by the next morning, he’s already played the prank on her. Why start with her? It seems logical to me to assume that Hamlet, after hearing of his father’s ghost in arms, might have approached Ophelia during the day for some comfort, or confidence, and she, following her father’s ordinance, denies him her company. I wager that they’ve known each other all their lives, though of course Ophelia was too young when he went away to war and/or Wittenberg; now upon his return, they’ve reconnected and discovered a blossomed love where there were only the buds before.

Two months is certainly enough time for people who feel as though they’ve known each other for eternity (I draw conclusions here from the nature of love, not from lines in the play), to fall in love. It is also safe to assume that Hamlet knows that Ophelia is generally manipulated by her father (at least, if we assume that they are actually in love and know each other well, which I believe they are, or why bother telling the story?)

This will add some interesting feelings for Hamlet as he goes to see the ghost, having been barred from Ophelia’s company; is the antic disposition in part a way of avenging himself on Ophelia? Really, the antic disposition comes from the source story based on Amleth, who used trickery to convince everyone he was a fool, so they would therefore take no notice of him as he plotted his vindication. Source or not, however, the disposition needs justifying.

Does he choose Ophelia to frighten because he knows it will make it seem like he is love sick rather than plotting revenge upon his uncle the King? This seems credible enough; Hamlet is renowned for his intellect. Does it bother him that he is injuring his lover? I believe it does, but he’s sworn an oath to his father to seek revenge. As the play progresses, he is deprived of his confidant (Ophelia) and I think this is why he becomes more and more aggressive; it’s truly amazing how quickly a man can recrudesce into fury without the availability of a woman for unburdening his thoughts – and his energy. (Some would say that having a lady around can increase fury; I’m sure this is also true, and there are scenes where Ophelia’s presence can inflame Hamlet – in every sense of the word.)

Robbed of his confidant, betrayed by his friends, mistrusted by the King, Hamlet has only Horatio…who disappears for considerable parts of the play. Hamlet, is therefore fighting much of his emotional war alone and has only the audience to confide in, but as we all know, the audience doesn’t talk back (not these days anyway; which is probably for the best). So, we have To be or not to be which is interrupted (“…lose the name of action” is, in my opinion, not the end of that thought process) by the sudden appearance of Ophelia. They haven’t seen each other in days. Their habit of exchanging daily missives has been defunct for just as much time. There is a certain kind of comfort in “out of sight, out of mind,” which can keep an anxiety general rather than piercing; Hamlet has been able to keep himself occupied with his antic disposition, but now, he’s presented with the source of a considerable amount of his heart-ache. I think it’s clear that he tries to play-up the antic disposition in this scene…but like many of the other scenes, he repeats himself: get thee to a nunnery, to a nunnery go etc (a nunnery, in addition to being a convent, is also a whorehouse). Typically, the scene is played out with Hamlet spiting fire (and indeed, the text very much supports this approach), but what if there was another layer we could add that could at once justify the fire and augment it with solicitude? What if we could see what their relationship used to be like?

One has to remember: neither of them are being cruel to each other because they want to. They are doing it because they believe they have to. What’s worse than watching someone you love being tortured by your hands? Or being tortured by the one you love? And how much worse is it to know that you may never be able to be with that person again because of outside circumstances? In Romeo and Juliet, they fight to be together (with consequences more or less disastrous, though romantic); but the world of Hamlet is different. Ophelia and Hamlet choose, for varying reasons, to seemingly abandon this love. Why? What if it is to protect the other lover? What if Hamlet is being particularly cruel to Ophelia to lessen the blow of their dissection? What if Ophelia is doing the same by avoiding him? How much agony must they suffer doing thus!

In the nunnery scene, this is what I think we should concentrate on. What if Hamlet is indeed urging Ophelia to go to a nunnery for her protection? And since it seems quite plausible that he knows they’re being overheard “…where is your father?” why not direct the fire to the listeners, and make all the nunnery talk an almost whispered importunity to Ophelia? Whether or not she actually gets the hint is beside the point. Imagine watching two people who are deeply in love trying to communicate with each other in the way that they must because of their circumstances, and seeing them fail by a hair’s breadth. The audience will understand; the lovers will not. The audience will want them to be together; but the fates decree that they cannot achieve this. This is heart breaking. To have Hamlet screaming away about the wantonness of women in general works also (it’s in the lines), but would not this other approach be superior? Where fury is joined with heart break? Where Hamlet is beside himself with frustration at trying to communicate a message he desperately wants Ophelia to apprehend, but seeing it fail? Where Ophelia is trying to maintain her duty to her father while trying not to cause further damage to her lover (whose madness, no doubt, she believes was caused by her), only to see him maniacally oscillating between wrath and despair? This way Polonius and Claudius hear the choler, but the audience sees the earnest entreaty.

The other scene they have together is a little more complex; I’ve been puzzling over it. Hamlet is certainly on edge: he can’t even let the players finish their presentation before he spoils the ending and roils the King. He is feverish; all his lines support it. His treatment of Ophelia here may just be acrid; or…perhaps he’s very charming and playful…in the full up-swing of a manic fit. Ophelia herself says he’s merry.

In all this, I want to make it clear that my objective is not to make the audience like me, but to tell the story of Hamlet’s love for Ophelia; so if I need to do nasty things to make that clear, it shall be done. The more I can show Hamlet’s love for Ophelia, the more she has to work with for her madness, and the more Hamlet has to work with when he sees that she’s died. He seems to forget all about her in the last scene (5.2.), and concentrates on courting Laertes’ favour for his father’s murder. It’s strange how she disappears, but one cannot concoct new lines to account for this (and be respected anyway). I know I’ll certainly be thinking about her, but I want to find a way to convey that to the audience. Perhaps I can do something with the urn? Or with a picture? Perhaps it’s too much, and I should just focus on the play at hand? We’ll see what comes up in rehearsal!

Nov 5 – Rehearsal. (Spoiler alert: MEDIUM) Today we explored 3.2. with Hamlet and Ophelia. Kurt didn’t want to explore my suggestion (read above) but rather asked us to play the scene a little more like a romantic comedy, wherein I woo Ophelia. We both had a very difficult time in implementing this approach, since it’s entirely sub-text reliant, and doesn’t stand up well to textual scrutiny. We got through the beginning of the scene, but ran out of time. It’s frustrating to be unable to deliver something properly in rehearsal, no matter what the suggestion may be. We’ll be able to revisit this on Tuesday. Luke arrived and we blasted through our Hamlet and Horatio scenes; there’s very little work to be done on developing relationship here.

Nov 6 – (Spoiler alert: HIGH) Rehearsal. We revisited 3.4. which went swimmingly. Suzanne and I remembered all our marks and came up with some very nice discoveries. Everyone involved was happy with what we came up with; I’m excited to see where we go with it. After this, we covered the scene with the Ghost. Ralph came to read for the Ghost, since Kurt was going to be the body, though, as we played the scene and Ralph came up with this notion that the Ghost could control Hamlet’s movements, and through that, he found a way to tell his story. Even though we were just rehearsing it, the notion picked up quickly and I found that the feeling of having my limbs controlled by another left quite an impression on both me, and everyone in the room. This drastically changed the scene with Horatio afterwards; instead of mounting to a threatening fury while commanding Horatio to swear (which is also an interesting route), I end up being lost in wonder, feeling entirely out of my element, and must therefore rely upon my friend. A solid day!

Nov 8 – (Spoiler alert: HIGH) Rehearsal. We revisited 3.1. (Hamlet and Ophelia), since both Erynn and I are having trouble digesting and implementing what we received last time. We spent the majority of our time discussing our difficulties until all three of us (Kurt) managed to find a path that works for everyone; we immediately began rehearsing and found that it was successful; Ophelia begins by being concerned for Hamlet and must discover that he’s not actually deranged; she also alerts him to the fact that they’re being watched: they then make a silent pact and begin to play off each other for the benefit of their audience (Claudius and Polonius). We didn’t get through the scene, but we all understood that we’re off to a much more solid start than before. It’s now only a matter of working in texture. Then Luke and Scott came and we worked the Osric scene; Scott is altogether too funny. Then Devin arrived and, along with Kurt, we worked the Rosencrantz and Guildenstern scenes. I had a curious discovery while working on “what a piece of work is a man”, wherein I describe the wonderful work that the human being is, all the while looking over at a mutated Siamese twin, grinning perversely: it’s as if I’m mocking them, since they are the exact opposite of what I’m describing. Kurt had a good laugh about this. I think it will read to an audience; it’s…irresistible given our Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. We closed the day having covered more territory than we had anticipated. This is a good sign!

Nov 9 – Hamlet and Gertrude (Spoiler alert: MEDIUM). While I was going over my lines today, I revisited 3.4. and came to the section after Hamlet sees the ghost. In rehearsal, we ended up having me stationary in a way that I don’t wholly agree with, though Kurt assures me, after the furor of the scene, this stillness is a welcome respite and paints a beautiful picture.

The thing about Hamlet is that he has several instances of repeating things three times (until Act 5 of course). In 3.4. Hamlet repeats variations on “good night” much more than that (just as he repeats his “farewells” with Ophelia almost every other sentence).There’s something to these failed attempts to depart. The business with Ophelia has now more or less been settled, so I know how to deal with those.

The “good nights” with Gertrude however, appear to me as something else. I can’t simply say a line because it is written and trust that it will go over: it’s sloppy and lazy. There is a reason for every line that’s spoken, and in the 3.4. that we’re doing right now, I’m glossing over these “good nights.” I started to wonder why Hamlet says them only to continue speaking afterwards. Originally I thought that it was on account of the fact that his thoughts had been scattered by his outburst and the visitation from the ghost (still a very good choice), though the way we’ve constructed the scene demands something a little different…as I pondered over this an idea came to me: what if Hamlet was feeling guilty for the way he’s treated his mother? She doesn’t respond to him much in the latter part of the scene, and so perhaps Hamlet interprets this as a kind of disappointment or disassociation on her part. He can then continue speaking as a means to improve his standing in his mother’s eyes, having nearly killed her as he has. I look forward to trying this the next time we rehearse the scene.

-Kyle

Hello fellow Danes! This is my Hamlet Blog. I’ve been writing down my thoughts on process since we decided to go ahead with it. There are some parts that are almost short hand while others are a little more didactic (which could make for some bumpy reading), though I’ve tried to smooth it out as much as possible without compromising the immediacy. Thanks for reading!

Oct 1 – I was thinking about To be or Not to be (after drinking till 8 am with Luke and our friend Brandon, who also loves Hamlet.) I was intimating to them that, more and more, it seems to me that, if taken at face value, To be or not to be is in the wrong place. It’s also not much more than a page after “O what a rogue and peasant slave am I”. Hamlet had his explosion in O what a rogue etc , and came to his conclusion (the play’s the thing), and once he’s concluded on something, it’s very evident that he has no trouble going into action whatsoever: witness his behaviour after the Mousetrap. He’s prevented from having his way not because he is unwilling, but because he would prevent Claudius from going to heaven and then he accidentally murders Polonius, and which results in getting him shipped off to England. We can see from his thoughtless pouncing on the man behind the arras that he’s ready for action.

So, why suddenly To be or not to be after admitting to himself that he needs evidence, and that ne need only wait a day to glean that evidence? I posited that it should either be at the beginning of the play, or that it should be spoken in the context of understanding that Hamlet knows that he is being watched. It’s been assumed he’s arguing for and against suicide; I can see that. However, his musings are much less personal than “…or that the everlasting had not fix’d/His cannon ‘gainst self slaugher,” which raise more interesting questions. There is nothing in To be or not to be that is a directly personal expression from Hamlet. He is speaking in general terms, which makes it more of an intellectual exercise than an emotional effluence.

I honestly think that, if it wasn’t so damned famous, people would cut it more often. It is, however, some of the most beautiful poetry in recorded history, so for that alone, I think, it’s worth saving. I called Kurt to express some of my concerns and he said that the idea that Hamlet knows he’s being observed is interesting, but that he would ultimately like to try the piece in earnest in rehearsal first. I suppose everyone has doubt; and it’s very clear that despite Hamlet’s highly active nature (and he is active), he is also very hard on himself. Though, in the vein of doubt, despite his eagerness to act after the player performs, he illustrates some doubt at the end of “O what a rogue…” when he talks about the devil that “hath the power/ T’assume a pleasing shape, yea, and perhaps…Abuses me to damn me.” It’s clear that he wants more evidence, but having read through the speech several times with even a modicum of intention, it’s clear that there is still some serious debate in his soul: purgatory is not supposed to exist, according to Protestant doctrine. Perhaps, taking this debate and extrapolating it over hours of anxious thought could drive someone to discourse, rhetorically, upon the reasons for or against self slaughter. We’ll see where this goes…

Oct 17 – just mere days before the first read. I’ve poured myself some whiskey while going over the script. Today I’m looking at the end of the play. In particular, “Not a whit, we defy augury…” I read it a few times, and suddenly I had the idea that “there’s a special providence in the fall of a sparrow…” reminds Hamlet of a moment from his childhood where he finds a dead sparrow on the ground. His father is with him, and it’s he who talks about death saying, “if it be now, ‘tis not to come etc, if it be not to come, it will be now; if it be not now, then it will come.” And I think it’s Hamlet who discovers “the readiness is all.” The image originally is from the book of Matthew in the bible, but I don’t think the phrase has the same resonance today as several centuries ago, so I’m going to personalize it through imagery instead, because I think this will be a more interesting choice. I think the memory of that sparrow and being with his father might be the last thought in his mind…or is it Ophelia? Curious. In that case, it’s as though he trades off one batch of guilt for another: his father is avenged, but what of his love? I’m not sure what the answer is yet…I will have to see what comes of rehearsals etc.

Oct 19 – We had the first read today. Despite some stumbling here and there, it went quite well, though I was left with a peculiar feeling. I can’t say exactly what; there’s something about this role that makes people – including myself – expect a kind of genius. I’m not sure if that was conveyed this evening…or was it? Is it even fair to use that word, or is it more absurd? Arrogant? Humbling? Did I expect to be showered with praises? Perhaps I didn’t hit all the marks that I have been anticipating, as I’ve gone through the script very carefully to look for these moments. I didn’t get to the very heights of emotions that I was hoping for – but then again, it’s a read and I was tired (though I don’t think fatigue should ever be an excuse, because who knows how I’ll feel on any given day in January and February?) I suppose I’m suffering from larger anxiety surrounding Hamlet, because it’s the role of roles and everyone is going to be expecting a prodigious performance (at least I am ). This just means that I’ll need to work trebly as hard to meet and exceed expectations; I shouldn’t get discouraged. Without great risk, there can be no great benefit.

-Kyle

Estimated time commitment: 7-8 minutes. A worthy way to wait for the bus, or for the coffee to brew, or… Just watch the vid – Erynn xo

Hello fellow Danes! This is my Hamlet Blog. I’ve been writing down my thoughts on process since we decided to go ahead with it. There are some parts that are almost short hand while others are a little more didactic (which could make for some bumpy reading), though I’ve tried to smooth it out as much as possible without compromising the immediacy. Thanks for reading!

Sept 22 – I went about reading several articles on Hamlet; it’s very curious to see how different eras perceive Hamlet’s essence. I finished reading an article by William Hazlitt, published in 1817. He shredded the Hamlets of his day (Kemple and Kean), one for being too formal, the other for being too splenetic. His thesis is that Hamlet is lost in his thoughts and merely shares what’s inside because an audience cannot read his mind. He insists that the Dane should be gentlemanly, and melancholic, though not gloomy. I find that Mr. Hazlitt is disastrously mistaken, and that his observations are equally erroneous. Then again, he comes from a different time. A Hamlet who is not connected with world around him would be something that no one today could suffer to endure; a melancholy soul is called a whiner these days. Though, I suppose Hazlitt’s impression of Hamlet are justified by the text, as are Kemple’s, Kean’s, and my own; it’s all there. The more I think about this, the more terrifying, and therefore stimulating, it becomes; I’m sweating from the mere thought of it!

Sept 27 – We had the production meeting last night and everyone seemed rather excited about our proposal. I was exhausted myself after the excitement I endured all day looking forward to it. The true triumph is that I now have a script I can carry with me; which I will, all day, every day, for so it goes. As I went through and highlighted my parts in the script, I came to the Hamlet Gertrude scene: I started to wonder at the amount of times that Hamlet says goodnight; it seems to me that in this scene, Hamlet really does venture into a kind of madness which seems to be building since his encounter with Ophelia. With Gertrude I can almost see Hamlet ranging between violence and heart-break, and then terror from both. What a sight that shall present! He is clearly annoyed about killing the wrong man (Polonius), but this also seems to spur him to greater resolution (which might manifest itself in physical violence towards his mother, which he instantly checks, and stands, as if wrestling with himself (as Gertrude says, “Mad as the sea and wind, when both contend/Which is the mightier…”)

Is Gertrude saying this only to take Hamlet’s advice (not to let on that he’s only mad in craft), or is it her belief? I think it will be my challenge to make her believe it, because it’s very evident that Hamlet doesn’t ramp down until his return from England, at which point, he has undergone other changes. If we stay with Kurt’s vision (hush hush) for the end of the first part of the piece, it stands to reason that Hamlet comes to accept his violence, which can explain his relative calmness in the last act (save over Ophelia’s death and after he’s been wounded), as he has now only to find the opportunity to exact his revenge. His discussion with Horatio wherein he reveals that he believes it his duty to slay his uncle and claim the throne (which we’ve actually cut), makes it clear that he has formulated a plan. Though, he is forestalled by Laertes’ and Claudius’ treachery. What Hamlet’s plan is, we shall never know. I would like to invent this plan; an easy answer lies in the source material. The source states that Hamlet used trickery to escape his uncle; not much unlike Edgar in King Lear, actually.

In the source, when Hamlet returns from England, he attends his own funeral, and, pretending to prick his finger on his sword, is seized upon by the guards who then lock his sword in his scabbard; later, during the banquet, he switches swords with his uncle, sets the hall on fire, then claims his revenge. It is clear to me, that Amleth (Hamlet) in this story, much like Iago, is making things up as he goes. Yet Shakespeare’s Hamlet is different; he is not as comical, and not as reckless, or even, amoral. Hamlet uses his madness to give him time to gather evidence. People seem to forget about the significance of this point. Hamlet is often portrayed as indecisive, sensitive, and impotent. We have the 19^th C to thank for that. Hamlet is a scientist (scholar) as well as a courtier, and a soldier, just as Ophelia says. The love the “general gender bear him…Who, dipping all his faults in their affection, would, like the spring that turneth wood to stone, convert his gyves to graces…” makes it clear that the people love him, and will resist Claudius should he move against him. If the world at large believes that Hamlet is the paragon of excellence, why should we, the audience, believe any differently? Naturally, though the public may see him as invincible, we as the audience are treated to a private perspective wherein we see doubt, but not indecision, inaction, or impotence.

Hamlet’s scientific inquiry, in many ways medieval, is still a roughly empirical and inductive process; he does not rely solely upon the a priori reasoning so common in Shakespeare’s time, but like Othello wants “ocular proof”; he meets and interviews the ghost, whereat he immediately springs into action with his antic disposition, thereby creating a platform where he’ll be more able to observe his enemies, much the way Claudius of the Julio-Claudian dynasty in the nascent days of the Roman Empire was underestimated by his opponents for being a half-wit. I suppose the real question is: why is Hamlet so seemingly inactive until the arrival of the players? He spurns himself quite thoroughly in “O what a rogue and peasant slave am I…”, which might suggest that perhaps he has been lounging rather than venging (though realistically, the turn-over time from Ghost to Player is a day). But something struck me: after he meets the ghost he looks for his “tables” and means to “…set it down/ That one may smile, and smile and be a villain…” He’s writing this out. I propose that it is here that he begins building his case; in Brannagh’s 1996 film version, Hamlet picks up a book on Demonology after he is informed that his dead father has been stalking around at midnight. Why might not Hamlet be reading something to this effect while Polonius overtakes him in the hall? Why might not Hamlet be taking a catalogue of his enemies in the interim, to determine exactly who is most deserving of death? Is it his uncle only, or the whole court? Is Hamlet delaying, or building a case?

Many of the scenes following the encounter with the ghost are used to display his “antic disposition” (utilized to puzzle the monarchs and throw them off the trail), and to introduce Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, who are very easily recognizable as spies. Hamlet knows he is being watched, but as we progress in the play, we see that those he trusts most betray him, right down to his lover, Ophelia. Horatio is notoriously absent at this time, surely only isolating Hamlet more, but also, freeing the friendly scholar from suspicion. In the midst of this web of spies, and having no evidence, how can Hamlet sweep to his revenge blindly, and still commit a righteous act, which is of great concern to him? Laertes “dares damnation”, but behold his lot: he betrays himself, his friend and superior (Hamlet), and then eventually the King himself, who was only lately his compatriot! If there is anyone going to hell, it is certainly Laertes, as much as we might be able to sympathize with him. And what happens when Hamlet acts rashly without investigation? He slays Polonius, who, while in no way free of some guilt for dishonesty, is more than likely spotless in the murder of Hamlet Sr. (or is he)? It is simply a want of proper investigation of the text which would suggest that Hamlet is dilatory, or impotent. He makes no delay in dispatching Ros and Guild when it’s clear to him that they have betrayed him; he shows scant remorse. He has all the evidence he needs. After the Mouse Trap, Hamlet is utterly prepared to expunge his uncle, but is forestalled because his revenge wouldn’t be complete enough. Perhaps this is his fault; perhaps it is because he is too invested in his wrath that he “fails”. It’s important to note that he doesn’t fail technically – for his uncle is murdered in the height of sin – but in terms of enjoying the fruits of a righteous action while on earth (i.e. remaining alive), he does fail.

I cannot say with honesty that I believe that it was Hamlet’s intention to perish during the execution of his revenge. I imagine he envisioned a world without Claudius only, with an Ophelia by his side, and his mother as a matronly advisor to his empery. So. After all this, I think I’m going to actually use Hamlet’s tables to record my observations during the performance. I think this is what Hamlet’s reading when Polonius comes upon him; I think it’s in here that he’s written: TO BE. NOT TO BE in columns to weight the relative pros and cons; the more I read this play, the more I believe that this speech is very much in the wrong place. Olivier moved it. With this speech set in III.i, it is difficult to refute the idea that he is pondering killing himself rather than executing his revenge. This speech turns into a didactic exploration which perorates in self-reproach. However, there is no reason Hamlet cannot himself believe that he is delaying, though he may not actually be. Patience is a virtue; a virtue difficult to impose on revenge. But it’s apparent that Hamlet has consummate self-control: this I chalk up to the discipline of the warlike Danes, and his function as a soldier (probably leader of the cavalry). He was with his father on his expeditions; he’s seen the battle-field; he has taken life in the heat of war. His mediations on the bones of the dead Alexander and Caesar illustrate to me that there is a part of him that aims to rise to those heights, which is all the more reason for him to be both disconsolate and reflective upon witnessing the common end that even these shooting stars of history have come to; he says himself a King may pass through the guts of a beggar. When he says this in Act IV, it is before he is King; in Act V, when he returns and is sure to be king, the meaning changes for him. Suddenly he is the one who shall pass through the guts of a beggar, just as Alexander and Caesar did. – Kyle

It is a real joy to be working on Hamlet Live! with a skilled group of professional actors. they have all learned how to avoid the pitfalls of classical text, and how to be compelling with the work. Rather than focus on how awesome my cast is, this week I will be blogging on a few challenges that students of acting should look out for when tackling Shakespeare.

A particular problem in larger centres where there are many more actors than roles, (places like Toronto, New York ect,) is that many actors like to keep sharp by taking scene study classes. This is an excellent thing to do, because keeping sharp, and maintaining skills and work habits are a big part of the job of acting. Unfortunately, a lot of the practice is devoted to working on five and ten minute scenes. This is not the same as rehearsing a play. In a scene study, one pushes the envelope of experience as broad and as deep as one can while maintaining credibility for a single scene. If you do that in the first scene of a play, you have an extremely long two hours ahead of you. Part of the trick is pace, and leaving yourself somewhere to go. This is part of the reason that in the Saint-Denis style of training favoured in Canada’s top theatre schools, a lot of attention as one progresses through the stages of training is placed on full production of plays. (In Saint-Denis training one spends a year getting comfortable in your own skin, finding a natural voice, training and strenghthening the body [working from the inside], a second year studying stylized and classical acting [working from the outside], and a final year synthesizing technique and exploring special skills). In my personal opinion, a group of five actors are better off pooling their class fees and renting an empty room for a week to stage a full play, than they are attending a scene study class. They might play to no one but friends, family, and hard core indie theatre fans, but they will be better off for having had the ice time.

The above mentioned tendancy to blow a full load on every scene can be magnified by classical text. The words can seem so rich and evocative that they invite an actor to really get lost in them, or to really chew the life out of them. The sense of catharsis, in speech and performance, can be very addictive. What to an audience can look like melodrama and the gnashing of teeth, to an actor feels like good, honest hard work. But just because you are sweating, it doesn’t mean that you are believable or interesting. Sometimes a hint of madness is far more compelling than frothing insanity. The trick is to climax at the same time as the audience, as close to the end as possible.

Another challenge to believability is blank verse itself. High school students need to be particularly aware of this. Many high school teachers have a limited foundation in classical text, and as a result place inordinate stress on iambic pentamater. It is easy to grasp and easy to teach, the result being that the da-duh da-duh da-duh… rhythm is hammered into impressionable teenage minds. Certainly, for advanced text analysis or performance, an awareness of meter and scansion can give very strong hints about what is important in a text. An academic awareness, for example, that the first thirteen lines spoken between Romeo and Juliet add up to a perfect Elizibethan sonnet, does help explain the instant attraction. There is mental connection to the level that their conversation is poetry. Similarly, it can help deduce pronunciation, as in the case of R&J where the first time Ro-me-oh is spoken with three syllables is by Juliet as she savours the name of her love. His friends would simply call him Rom-yo. Good info for an actor and an academic.

This said, iambic pentamater can be a trap for the actor. It must be remembered that the reason Shakespeare wrote in this style was because it most mimicked natural speech. He was trying to write in a way closest to how people actually talk. He was not trying to create elevated text. In the century before Shakespeare there were many competing meters and structures of writing. The first known blank verse in iambic pentameter only coming in 1561, with the production of Gorbuduc, and the form not reaching popular use until the 1590′s. He had a plethora of far more elevated (and popular) poetic forms to choose from when he adopted blank verse. He made a choice for naturalism over artifice, for conversation over declaimation.

Young actors need to know that they don’t need to help the iambic pentameter. It is already written that way and nothing you do will change that. Even when reading aloud in English class, it is best to avoid that awful da-duh da-duh da-duh cadence. Just speak the speech. And if you think a line makes more sense with a contrapuntal or double stressed phrase, you are probably right. Shakespeare would have intentionally placed double stresses and feminine endings for dramatic effect, to illustrate either the imperative or baffling nature of a thought.

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I have never been a long sleeper. As a kid I was always up early, and on cold dark mornings in northern Alberta, that often meant frosty weekends in front of the CBC. Sunday mornings were always a weird treat, with re-runs of The Little Rascals and The Lone Ranger. (The great curse of the infomercial is that it spelled the death of strange near-public domain re-runs.) But the really big treat was the booming introduction to Patrick McGoohan’s television masterpiece “The Prisoner”. Considered by many the greatest tv show ever produced, each week started with a recap of the prisoner being taken to “The Village”, where he would be informed that he was now known as simply “Number 6″. Every week a chill went down my spine as the thunder cracked, with Mcgoohan in silhouette on the beach, shouting a line of blank verse, “I am not a number, I’m a free man!” His reading was impeccable. the line could have been:

I am NOT a NUMber I’M a FREE man!

But Mcgoohan was too cool for that. He new he needed that double stress:

I am NOT a NUMber I’M a FREE MAN!

The first reading can make perfectly good sense, but damn the second reading was good. He wasn’t just FREE, he was the MAN.