First, a little disclosure. I am a Shakespeare buff who eagerly seeks
out Shakespeare productions. While I haven't read every single play
by the bard, I've read all the major ones, most of his sonnets, and
have taken several Shakespeare courses, including a graduate level course,
to boot.
Hamlet has been one of my enduring favorites, ever since first
reading it in high school. While I have since grown to love other Shakespeare
plays, such as The Tempest, I know Hamlet so well I practically
have it memorized. Over the years, I've seen a variety of productions,
from the excellent, bare-bones Kevin Kline television version (1990)
to Kenneth Branagh's extravagant wide-screen spectacle (1996). I even
watched Mel Gibson's scenery-chewing turn in the Franco Zeffirelli film
(1990). (Honestly, I expected much more from Zeffirelli, who gave us
the effervescent 1968 Romeo and Juliet.)
In addition, I saw a performance by a traveling group of performers
who strived to perform the play very much like it would have been done
in Shakespeare's day.
All of these performances offered a different interpretation, partly
based on setting and costume. Do they seek to contemporize the play?
Do they set it in an unusual setting? Take liberties with the script?
How do they handle staging? And most importantly, how is the central
character of Hamlet handled?
There's been much debate over the years about whether to portray Hamlet
as somebody who is faking madness and, if so, just how far to push that
aspect of the performance. Kevin Kline accentuated that aspect of it
with his version, his Hamlet taking advantage of the gullible Polonius
in order to convince the court that he is mad and, therefore, less of
a threat to the king.
If you're not familiar with the plot of Hamlet, a brief summary:
Hamlet learns from his father's ghost that his father was murdered by
Hamlet's uncle, who has since married Hamlet's mother. For much of the
play, Hamlet wavers about whether to enact the revenge his father's
ghost urged, hampered by emotional reactions to the situation.
Branagh chose a similar route to Kline's, faking madness, although
his Hamlet was a bit more toned down. He allowed the lavish production
to provide the spectacle and kept his portrayal more naturalistic, which
is characteristic of his Shakespeare films.
Mel Gibson, God bless him, was painfully overwrought, looking very
much like an amateur high school actor. Glenn Close, with her comparative
restraint, outshone him in the relatively minor role of Gertrude, the
queen.
Olivier, however, takes a different approach. In his interpretation,
Hamlet is clearly not mad, at least not in the way people suspect. Nor
is he attempting to appear so. Rather, he is driven by a thinly-concealed
anger that drips out in the sarcastic mutterings that members of the
court mistake for insanity. That he is mad, tis true, but mad in a very
different way from the way they assume.
Classically trained, Olivier enunciates with precision. His slow, deliberate
way of talking carries a certain menace, punctuated by unrestrained
outbursts, where his emotions overcome him and he takes drastic actions.
In the scene with Ophelia, when he realizes they're being overheard,
he throws her to the ground, leaving her in tears with his parting words,
"Get thee to a nunnery." Those words, of course, were intended
more for the people he knew were listening from behind a curtain, Polonius
and King Claudius. So when he rails against women and marriage, saying,
"God hath given you one face, and you make yourselves another,"
he is really speaking for the benefit of Claudius and, indirectly, criticizing
his mother, who married his uncle only two months after her husband's
death.
This dynamic gives extra weight to the scene where the courtiers are
watching a play by traveling actors. After treating her so viciously,
Hamlet approaches Ophelia in full view of the court, makes suggestive
comments to her, and sits on the floor in front of her, his head on
her knees, as she sits stiffly, her hands on the arms of the chair.
There is an implied menace there, almost akin to sexual assault.
Olivier takes advantage of the nature of film to streamline the play.
He fades between scenes, cutting out the expository dialogue. In addition,
some soliloquies are done as voice-overs, juxtaposed over Hamlet's face.
The exception is the "To be or not to be" speech, which he
delivers aloud, seated on a high turret, gazing down at a turbulent
ocean. Here, he idly contemplates whether to stab himself or perhaps
to jump. His location gives new meaning to some of the water references
in that speech.
Whereas some actors portray Hamlet as tortured during this speech,
Olivier plays it as if he is merely testing out the thought, just as
he tests out thoughts of revenge throughout the movie, failing to take
action.
Of course, one of the interesting aspects of Hamlet is that
he is a university student. Even giving some allowances for differences
in custom at the time the play was set, he's still a fairly young man.
Yet, he's almost never played by a young man (with the exception being
Ethan Hawke's 2000 version, which I have not seen, during which he was
30). When most major actors perform the role, they are in their late
30s or early 40s. Olivier himself was 41. In this film, the woman who
plays Ophelia, Jean Simmons, was only 19 at the time, which gives an
added dimension to the threat that Hamlet seems to represent.
Simmons turns in a heartbreaking performance. Unlike some other portrayals
of Ophelia, she makes it clear that, while it upset her, it wasn't Hamlet's
cruelty that caused her to lose her mind but, rather, grief over her
father's murder.
As Hamlet's nemesis, King Claudius, Basil Sydney is overbearing and
officious, so that one can understand how his self-serving, grand speeches
could make the rightful heir to the throne seethe. After all, by marrying
Gertrude, Claudius supplanted not just King Hamlet but also Prince Hamlet,
who otherwise would have ascended to the throne.
This production was clearly ahead of its time. Although it was made
in 1948, it looks very much like a 1950s production, down to the short
fringe bangs on Ophelia's long wig and the sets, which have a stark,
artistic quality very reminiscent of 1950s aesthetics. The nearly empty,
stage-like sets contain only the necessary furniture, such as chairs
or a bed, going back to a Shakespearean tradition.
The movie makes innovative use of film techniques, not just by cross-fading
between scenes or by showing things on-screen that normally happen off-stage,
but by using camera movement to move action forward. So, for example,
as Ophelia lies crying on the steps in one room, the camera sweeps outward
and takes long, winding steps to the next scene, much like Hamlet himself
leaving the room. These winding stairs become characteristic of the
play, imitating the fruitless wanderings of Hamlet's mind.
Because of these techniques, the movie manages to skip much of the
expository dialogue, arriving in media res, as action is already
taking place. This is a brilliant way of condensing a very long play,
which could easily run more than three hours. Olivier's version clocks
in at 155 minutes, or about 2 1/2 hours.
This does, however, mean that the minor characters Rosencrantz and
Guildenstern (made famous by the Tom Stoppard play Rosencrantz and
Guildenstern Are Dead) are completely written out. Perhaps Olivier
felt that the light banter Hamlet exchanges with his school friends
distracted from the brooding quality of his performance.
Olivier's version is an actor's play, as evidenced by one scene he
retains: Hamlet's instructions to the traveling actors, in which he
pontificates about good versus bad acting. This was Shakespeare's opportunity
to share his opinions about acting, and it is clearly Olivier's inspiration,
as well:
