Hamlet: Princess of Denmark...
Negga’s female Dane doesn’t quite bring home the bacon
The idea of casting a woman as Hamlet is not new. Women have played the role since at least the Eighteenth and into the present century. It makes sense to the extent that Hamlet is no macho Macbeth or Henry the Fifth. He’s a thinker, a sensitive character, disgusted by his mother’s adultery, his uncle’s usurpation of the throne, the subservient court and by the drunken Danish rabble. But he’s stuck with the problem of how to tackle the moral and practical problem of avenging his father’s death. The one action Hamlet takes without thinking – the killing of Polonius – leads to unintended carnage.
The atmosphere for this production, with Ruth Negga in the title role, is set from the beginning, with the burial of Hamlet’s father on a gloomy dark set, the misty air and disquieting lighting evoking the court of Denmark as a disturbed place. The young Hamlet is seen as an achingly heartbroken son, robbed of father and mother. That threatening atmosphere remains throughout the threeand-a-half hours in which the lighting is a major feature.
Negga is at her best when Hamlet is miserable. She handles most of the great monologues well, but there’s a physical problem in the fact that everyone on stage is taller than her, and her episodes with Claudius, Polonius and others, often have the ring of a smart-ass teenager instead of a sophisticated scholar.
And it’s a pity the editing cuts many of the witty exchanges between Hamlet and Polonius, who’s played as a fine mixture of self-assurance and incompetence by Nick Dunning.
Negga’s anger is sometimes more melodrama than barely restrained venom, but her scene with Ophelia is one of the best in the play, when she goes through the whole gamut of emotions from tenderness to bitter disappointment and anger. Aoife Duffin was particularly good as the confused, abused, mad Ophelia.
Owen Roe’s Claudius is a sharp, business-like diplomat, coldblooded but with touches of humanity. His prayer is a brilliant insight into a troubled mind, but you can’t imagine him sharing it with anyone, and having it turned into a confession with a silent priest just doesn’t fit with this murderous adulterer who will soon be arranging a triple murder plot to get rid of Hamlet.
Fiona Bell’s Queen Gertrude is nervous and guilt-ridden throughout: a weak, loving woman driven by her desires but dominated by her new husband.
The plastic curtain dividing the living from the dead was a good idea but a clumsy device that didn’t make up for Steve Hartland’s very physical ghost. Having members of the cast seated in the passageway halfway down the theatre for the play-within-a-play is another dubious ploy. It’s the kind of thing that works best when the performers are mobile and about to approach the stage.
I didn’t find the final scene as tense and moving as it should be, and taking Hamlet’s word about the rest being silence, denied us Horatio’s moving final tribute and benediction to Hamlet.
It’s a mixed production, strong in places, dubious in others, a good introduction to Shakespeare, and ideal for those who like lots of atmosphere.