Jude Law stands alone in the snow, leaning against a cold concrete wall and pondering “To be, or not to be.” It’s a moment for which we’ve been waiting, and this Hamlet doesn’t disappoint. In fact, every time he appears onstage, we somehow feel the lights brighten and the pace pick up. Unfortunately, for much of the rest of the time, this production feels stodgy and strangely old hat.
Clad in what appears to be rehearsal garb, the actors seem lost in a kind of period limbo. The time is sort of now, but some of the performances, most notably Peter Eyre (shown above with Law), bring to mind the John Gielgud wannabe era of yesteryear. This works fine for the florid Player King, but feels a little silly in the Ghost of Hamlet’s Father. Geraldine James is as beautiful as ever in the role of Gertrude, but her work is cool and detached; for a much better appreciation of her talent, put the 1984 miniseries The Jewel In The Crown on your DVD cue. There has never been a more stunning Ophelia than Gugu Mbatha-Raw, but we really do need to see her amp up the madness. Horatio is played with a bun and a slacker attitude by Matt Ryan, who is definitely not “more an antique Roman than a Dane.” The only member of the ensemble who actually shines is Gwilym Lee; his passion as the wronged son and brother makes us wish there were more of his Laertes in the play.
Of course, part of the problem is that we’ve seen so many versions of Hamlet in the past. Comparisons are odious, yet we can’t help making them. There will never be a better Polonius than Hume Cronyn in the Richard Burton production. The sword fight here is fine, but the battle between Ralph Fiennes and Damian Lewis was thrilling. In Boston, I saw a tiny actor named Edward Zang play the melancholy Dane as a bumblebee, buzzing from perch to perch; it was weird, but unforgettable. And then, there are the films. Who can forget Laurence Olivier, with his bleached blond hair and severe Oedipal complex? Or Kenneth Branagh’s four hour opus, chocked full with luminaries (gee, isn’t that palace guard Jack Lemmon?).
Law holds his own with the best of them, but the rest of this dark and gloomy production is largely lackluster. And that’s bad when a show is nearly three and a half hours long; this incarnation could really have used a few standard cuts. I mean, what do they think this is, The Lion King?
I’ve never understood why my fellow critics seem to take such delight in trashing film celebrities who take to the Broadway stage. Law has earned his right to be here. He received a 1995 Tony nomination for his dynamic performance in Indiscretions, where his memorable pantomime shower scene stole the show from veterans Kathleen Turner and Roger Rees. Here, he brings his legendary charm, distinctive interpretation, and undeniable star power to a theater experience that otherwise lacks glamour in any sense. We understand him, because Jude Law is a Hamlet for our times.
Hamlet
Broadhurst Theatre
235 West 44th Street
212-239-6200
