Free Shakespeare in the Park: Hamlet
“The web of (our life) this play is of a mingled yarn, good and ill together.”
(All’s Well That End’s Well)
A terrific quartet of a capella, doo-wop vocalists in black suits sing spirituals over the King’s American flag-draped coffin. Think of it as a warm-up act. Mourners pass, some with surgical masks. We quickly segue to the wedding of Queen Gertrude (Lorraine Toussaint, self consciously showing off her elaborate costume) and the King’s brother Claudius (John Douglas Thompson) – presided over by a woman. Prince Hamlet (Ato Blankson-Wood) is not just sad at the premature loss of his father, but angry at the speed with which changes occur. He talks not to himself but to us. So far so good.
Lorraine Toussaint (Gertrude), John Douglas Thompson (Claudius)
The contemporized rendition of Shakespeare’s play proceeds traditionally until Horatio (Warner Miller) alerts Hamlet to an appearance of his father’s ghost. Cue electronic hum. Stage right, an SUV and lights above it glow bright green. A big, resonant voice (in, fact, Samuel L. Jackson), buried in reverb, speaks to Hamlet of “murder most foul.” Projected images of the King’s portrait blur and morph. The mouth moves. One can’t help but think of the Great and Powerful Oz – “Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain” – and on its heels, cheap psychedelic effects of 1970s films. What should’ve been foreboding arrives like satire. Highly imaginative, the ghost’s “taking possession” of Hamlet, speaking out of his mouth is a terrific concept. Were this more developed, it might successfully replace technical overage. Blankson-Wood is particularly vivid during the parenthesis.
In addition to the ill conceived ghost, gratuitous appearance of a cell phone elicits laughter just as Hamlet tells his mother, “You cannot call it love for at your age the hey-day in the blood is tame…” If ever there were a wrong appliance at a wrong moment! The odd choice of bright, multi-colored stationary for Hamlet’s missives to Ophelia – really?- are jarring. Alternately, turning the Players into a hip-hop band works unexpectedly well. Lead Player Colby Lewis gives a fine vocal performance as well as having co-written the material with Jason Michael Webb. Their song “Gods Cry” is just right.
Ato Blankson-Wood (Hamlet), Mitchell Winter (Rosencrantz), Brandon Gill (Guildenstern)
That conflict between Norway and Denmark is jettisoned has less effect than the absence of any sense of history. Decades of succession are ignored. Hamlet’s potential rule is never in consideration. Were the excised Fortinbras present, his “Bear Hamlet like a soldier to the stage, For he was likely, had he put on, to prove most royal,” might at least have indicated awareness.
Director Kenny Leon has elsewhere proven himself adept with handling emotion, yet here seems to have reduced tragedy to misadventure. Fury and despair are too often about words rather than personal feeling or consequence. Grandeur has been eschewed in favor of a kitchen sink approach. Perhaps this is Leon’s attempt to stay in keeping with Public Theater’s dictum of accessibility. One can’t help but feel a middle ground could’ve been achieved. Staging is fluid and compositionally attractive. Small business, like Polonius’ paternally handing his son a mask as he bids him farewell, and secret handshakes between Rosenkrantz, Guildenstern, and Hamlet add intimacy.
The Players
Blankson–Wood (Hamlet) is immersed. Phrasing is conversational without losing poetry; speeches most often compelling; pacing of soliloquies excellent. Action seems motivated. When, during a meeting with Ophelia, she tries to return his billets doux, he glimpses Claudius and Polonius spying. Change in attitude practically screeches as feelings of betrayal ride tandem with rejection. (Were signs of love less curiously absent throughout, this would make more sense.) Pride and entitlement of a born to the blood Prince, however, appear insubstantial.
Solea Pfeiffer, a less than usually wispy Ophelia, offers solid range from docile obeisance to her father – with a look that indicates suppressing retort – to a wonderfully evocative mad scene. We actually wonder what she’s feeling during the return of letters, rather than focusing on Hamlet. Is she acquiescent only because her father watches? Is she angry her suitor denies his love? Pfeiffer incidentally has a lovely singing voice.
John Douglas Thompson (Claudius) , Solea Pfeiffer (Ophelia), Nick Rehberger (Laertes)
As Gertrude, Lorraine Toussaint’s greatest upheaval – when her son confronts her with the murder – is too internalized, especially in physical terms. (Note to director: the actress has her back to our section of the audience.) Nor is there anything maternal about her performance.
John Douglas Thompson (Claudius) orates well, but moves without the confidence of his station and ego. I also miss an expression of horror as things go fatally awry. The actor’s gradual (if accordioned) descent into guilt is potent. “My words fly up, my thoughts remain below.” Suddenly the planted flag moves to carefully directed wind. Lust, clearly a facet of the couple’s union, is barely touched upon. Gertrude’s single grasp of Claudius’ buttock seems half-hearted. Where are the stolen looks, in-passing touches?
Daniel Pearce (Polonius) employs humor at every turn with chuckle results. The actor is naturally grounded and sympathetic warning Ophelia of Hamlet, but in light of his position, strangely obsequious volunteering to spy. We miss the statesman aspect.
In smaller roles, Mitchell Winter (Rosenkrantz), Brandon Gill (Guildenstern), and always welcome Greg Hildreth (the grave digger) admirably deliver. So much of Horatio (Warner Miller) has been cut we have next to no sense of him. Nick Rehberger’s Laertes seems slight even when enraged.
I wish I could share a full photo of Beowulf Boritt’s inspired set. The house, in two parts, has sunk into earth at angles evoking Alice-in-Wonderland-like instability; a sinkhole of the times? Checkerboard tiles extend onto the grass lawn petering out. An enormous painting of Hamlet’s recently deceased father (a Marine) hangs on the house front. Stage left is a tilting flagpole and half buried “Vote Stacy Abrams” sign. (We’re in Georgia.) The entire evocation is lifted three feet on a cross section of raised ground, further separating. A peripherally parked SUV bears the license plate: ELSNOR
Jessica Jahn’s costumes are almost all terrific, melding character with contemporary attitude. Polonius wears a seersucker suit, bow tie, and saddle shoes which personify the man. Rosencrantz and Guildenstern dress colorfully without going over the top, while Players are decked out in modern rap apparel. Alas, after an opulent wedding ensemble, Queen Gertrude too often looks so mismatched it’s as if she dressed in the dark and there’s nothing about Ophelia’s personality that might dictate a denim jumpsuit that is ill-fitting.
Jeff Sugg’s ghostly projection design tries to be horror film, but arrives corny accompanied by barely intelligible speech steeped in reverb. (Justin Ellington sound design.)
Fight Director Thomas Schall gives us an unbelievable thrust through Gertrude’s curtain (killing Polonius), Claudius’ hard punch to Hamlet’s stomach from which he too quickly recovers, and a far less exciting sword fight than that to which we’ve grown accustomed from his choreography.
The production of Hamlet is a mixed bag, but whatever its faults, accessible.
Photos by Joan Marcus
The Public Theater presents
Hamlet by William Shakespeare
Directed by Kenny Leon
The Delacorte Theater – Enter Central Park at 81st street
Through August 6, 2023
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