Plays and Players, June 1989, by Rod Dungate
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Have you ever considered the notion that Shakespeare 
intended Hamlet to say in his Act I scene ii soliloquy 
"Frailty, they name is man," but it was changed by mistake?

I hadn't, until I experienced Mark Rylance's performance of 
the Danish Prince. This prince is not noble, not a genius, 
he does not noticeably leap forth as First Renaissance Man, 
but he is one hundred and fifty percent human - small, 
withdrawn, shy, and painfully, painfully vulnerable.

His portrayal is physically and vocally finally tuned and 
detailed, while possessing a strong clear shape - which in 
turn establishes the play's strong form on-stage.

All the clues to this Hamlet are clear in his first moments 
alone. He wrenches out "O that this too too sullied flesh 
would melt..." his back turned to us as if he cannot bear to 
look us in the eye as he speaks. (As the play develops so he 
becomes more withdrawn, wrapping himself into a ball, 
hugging himself to himself, rocking piteously back and 
forth.) Hamlet does not turn towards us until he speaks to 
his father: "So excellent a king" he explains, striding 
towards us, holding out a photograph of his father. He 
speaks directly to us, his face pleading for us to agree. 
Later, speaking of his uncle, he says he was no more like 
his father "Than I to (*long pause, sigh*) Hercules." 
Hamlet's poor self-image is so self-evident, tha this loss 
of mental-control is both inevitable and understandable.

This early intimacy is a theatrical mastertroke, not just 
because it signals early on that this is to be no ordinary 
"Hamlet," nor just because it introduces a second strong 
thread within this production (use of "the play"), but 
because within three hundred lines, our sympathies are 
locked to Hamlet. He has drawn us into his confusion and *we 
care*, no matter how perverse he becomes, no matter how 
violent, he never loses us for a second of this production's 
three and a half hours.

Anthony McDonald's designs are an extension of Hamlet's 
disorientation. The costumes have an Edwardian feel about 
them and the settings seem to owe something to German 
expressionism of the period. Elsinore is a stark white 
castle where the floors are not straight and doors and 
windows are not square - the architecture is as out of joint 
as the times.

Moreover, as Hamlet's grip on reality wanes, and he appears 
wandering around in grubby, striped pyjamas, the settings 
take on the aspect of a secure mental hospital, as we share 
Hamlet's sense of captivity and oppression.

The climax of Hamlet's insanity, the murder of 
Polonius/Claudius is a frenzied attack, Hamlet stabs him 
repeatedly in an explosion of anger at his incapacity to 
resolve his situatin. Yet still Rylance retains our 
sympathy, even as, dragging Polonius from the stage, he 
cheerfully calls out "Good night Mother" - and I could swear 
he said "Ma."

Shakespeare frequently used "theatre" as a metaphor for 
life, and director Ron Daniels brings these parallels to the 
fore. Virtually everyone sees Hamlet's instructions to the 
Players ("Suit the action to the word, the word to the 
action" and so on) as Shakespeare's instructions to his 
actors. But the same words hold true to life do they not? 
These instructions face both ways. To achieve a similar 
effect Daniels employs the very artefacts of the play to 
make the play metaphor real. *Where does the play end and 
life begin? Which play and whose life?* are the questions. 
Hamlet is dressed in black, the players are dressed in 
black, Hamlet sits on his suitcase, one of the players sits 
on hers...

Moreover, as Hamlet becomes engrossed in the business of 
acting, blinkering his eyes to shut out all confusions 
around him, so two bright follow-spots illuminate the 
action. Hereafter, they mercilessly search out, as 
necessary, Gertrude, Claudius, Laertes, Hamlet - this 
"Hamlet," this act of theatre, will reveal truth.

The production consciously presents a succession of lasting 
images - Russell Enoch's corporeal ghost illuminated in the 
centre of the night sky, Fontinbras' army, still and silent 
as if made from Chinese terracotta.

Of the rest of this uniformly strong company, I was 
particularly struck with Jimmy Gardner as a gem of a 
Gravedigger. This grey-haired, bearded, aged little fellow 
effortlessly squeezes out every drop of ironic humour. Jared 
Harris' quiet portrayal of majesty as Fortinbras is key. 
Hamlet's revelation that Fortinbras is "a delicate and 
tender prince," is, in this production, the beginning of his 
reassessment of himself, his image, his role - his start on 
his road to recovery.

Finally, the last scene, with its dangerously large number 
of deaths, is beautifully staged. There is a superb and 
tense fight (Director Alexis Denisov [sic]) which finally 
spins out of control. Gertrude's death happens almost 
incidentally, the court far too busy escaping Laertes' and 
Hamlet's foils to notice.

Following this wild confusion, and after Fortinbras' final 
quiet instructions there is a satisfying sense of 
completeness to conclude this authoritative production.



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