![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Tonight, the first "full cast" reading of Ian W. Hill's Hamlet (we're actually short a few people, but close enough). I am nervous and excited.
After this, I'm gone for a week before continuing with rehearsals, but I'm sure (I hope) I'll be doing plenty of character work with the actors by email.
Inside the cut below is a long email exchange between Jerry Marsini (Claudius) and myself regarding his character's motives and actions, which necessarily winds up ranging widely over many other aspects of this production. I still have mixed feelings about using LJ Cuts, but when text gets this long, I get more self-conscious about shoving it onto peoples' Friends lists.
Now . . . as has been mentioned in passing here before, I've cut from this production all definite evidence that Claudius actually killed Hamlet's father. There is the possibility, but only that, a possibility.
Still, fine to be ambiguous with the audience, but Jerry and I have to know for sure (I think, oddly perhaps, of George Romero and John Amplas, for Romero's film Martin, having to decide for themselves if the title character was actually a vampire or just an insane young man who believes he's a vampire). In these emails we make the decision -- in passing, really -- as Jerry asks for direction on Claudius and suggests a number of options. Since I still want it to be ambiguous for everyone else, I've taken out the parts where our decision is clear.
Ian,
I know you have made my guilt in the murder of my brother ambiguous in your version. In the end, I do think [decision redacted], but I'd like to hear your thoughts. Following is my own debate of the possibilities:
(1) It can be very interesting if there was no murder at all, and Gertrude and I have done our respective royal duties (reluctantly?). Given the threat of war (and perhaps Danish law?) Gertrude couldn't maintain the crown alone until Hamlet came of age. This would feed my theory that Hamlet is going mad because of thwarted ambition. And Hamlet is given the idea of a murder by his imagination (the ghost) And then, I stop the mousetrap play because I think these liberal artsy-fartsies are trying to make political power plays with the public's mind. (I don't think I suspect Hamlet had anything to do with the play, or do I? He's off his rocker and incapable, right? Do I know of his theatrical talents?) Potential logical problems: If the ghost is Hamlet's imagination, how do others see the ghost and hear him as well?
(2) On the other hand, if I did do it, I think it will be most interesting if I am a very very good liar, convinced absolutely of my innocence and good will, (that is, play it straight and never purposely let our audience in on my game.) And then the alternate reason for Hamlet's mental state (his suspecting me of murder) would be accessible to me, (whereas in the first scenario much less so) and my suggestion that he's going mad because of thwarted ambition is a deliberate decoy, as opposed to a genuine guess on my part. This option makes room for an underlying layer of guilt, which would be nice, seeing as how you took out overt references to it.
(3) Of course there is a third possibility. That I am somehow indirectly responsible for my brother's death, an accident perhaps, or I could have saved him but let him die through some inaction of mine, something abstract like that, that a ghost would simplify to the image of poison in the ear. And something that would convince my conscious mind that I'm innocent, but my subconscious would know I'm guilty. Finding myself indirectly responsible for Polonius's death as well would justify my need to destroy Hamlet, so that I could suppress this new guilt and so the truth of my brother's death may remain in denial. And when, finally, I am directly, yet accidentally responsible for Gertrude's death, it all comes rushing on: I'm guilty of them all and consequently the destruction of the kingdom.
[decision redacted -- section where Jerry debates the difference between a "game of cat-and-mouse" between Hamlet and Claudius or each of them acting "in their own bubbles," stating his preference] . . . Anything major I'm missing? I still have lots more research to do, but wanted to put this out there sooner than later. Your thoughts?
Jerry
A day later . . .
Jerry,
Great thoughts. Important ones for where we’re going. Now to winnow things down a bit and be more specific. Which may seem a contradiction, sorry, given the size of the following response, but you’ve touched on a lot of matters I have given a lot of thought to and discussed with Berit extensively, and of course I always write these replies with one eye directed at my blog, so I go on a little bit.
My feeling has always been that, given the ambiguity (deliberate) caused by my cuts, it would be up to you and me to choose, DEFINITELY, whether Claudius did it or not and that, at the very least, the two of us should know for sure.
That said, as other layers have come out in the play in working on it, while the question of guilt or not isn’t entirely unimportant to me, it is less important to me than how others in the kingdom view Claudius’ “guilt” or lack thereof. That is, even if he didn’t do it, are the people of Denmark satisfied that he didn’t do it, and if not, how does Claudius deal with this (both as a King and as a man)? He is not at all so isolated that he has no idea of how he’s perceived.
The question of him as murderer is, of course, important to you, and should be, so we can go with your preferred idea that Claudius [decision redacted].
Still, with that, there are extremely important things that you touch on in all three of your scenarios (and final paragraph) that have to be taken into account.
(1) Whether he did it or not (and whether or not he had direct or indirect help in any way from Polonius and/or Gertrude) – and we’re going on the assumption that [decision redacted] – you immediately touch on the most important word as to the motive for all his actions, in this version of the play: Duty.
The most important thing for both Claudius and Gertrude (though in different ways) is their Duty to the Country. I don’t know if you saw a previous note I wrote about Claudius when asked about him by an auditioning actor, and I think we went over most of what I said there when I read you in the part, but the link to where I posted it on my blog (it’s toward the end of this post) is HERE
I believe that Claudius does have great love for Gertrude, but I don’t believe that either that love or just ambition for the throne would be enough for our Claudius to kill his brother. If he did it, the major factor would be, as he saw it, Duty to His Country – that is, he believed, for whatever reason, that his older brother was going to screw up in some way and wind up losing Denmark to Fortinbras and Norway. I’ve noted that I see Claudius as Royal, of course, but more than happy in the past to have not had the responsibilities of his older brother, disliking the entire “court” political life, and going into the military (and doing well at it) as a bit of an escape from dealing with the family business. He is brought back in out of Duty to His Country, because he is (possibly in reality but certainly in his own mind) the only person who can fix things with Denmark right now.
Hamlet is definitely of age to be King, and by all rights should be with his father’s death. No one is quite saying boo about Claudius’ presumption because everyone kind of knows that Hamlet just isn’t ready to be King (including Hamlet’s mother). However, though the rest of the country may know this, that doesn’t make them entirely comfortable with Claudius’ actions, and he knows it. His line in his first scene noting that Hamlet is next in line of succession after him is a sop to the public to ease their fears about the irregularity of what has happened. But Hamlet has been raised with the assumption that he would one day be a “Peacetime King,” and what Denmark needs now is a “War King” to stave off the very real external threat posed by Fortinbras.
So, Claudius and Gertrude are primarily about Duty. It works in different ways for them, though, as Claudius is a reluctant (but accepting) King and Gertrude is a Queen through and through. He feels his Duties as falling, in order of importance, as Country, Husband, Soldier, Man, King, and she sees hers as Country, Queen, Wife, Mother (in her case, all basically the same job – I believe he has a sense of “self” that is something apart from an identity as “King,” and that she has subsumed any sense of self in a pure identity as “Queen”). He is, I think, crazy about Gertrude – she is very very fond of him but primarily supports him as “the King my Country needs right now.”
Now, as to Hamlet in your first scenario – you’re on the right track, but with the wrong word; I’m not sure there even is a correct word, but it isn’t “ambition.” Hamlet didn’t have ambition for the throne, it was simply his to have. For his entire conscious life he’s been brought up with the knowledge, the certain knowledge, that he would succeed his father as King. He didn’t have to have ambition, it was his whether he wanted it or not. Now, this immense certainty has been taken away from him, and it’s as if nothing is real or solid for him anymore . . . and this seems to be a bit more of a real cause for madness than thwarted ambition.
The ghost may indeed be in his imagination in this production – though others see it in the first scene (and prior), as does the audience, since I’m playing the part here, you could say that what they are seeing is Hamlet dressed up as his father, wandering the battlements. We can maybe read this as group hysteria, or as some kind of indication of a mad and somnambulant Hamlet (the “Norman Bates” Hamlet, maybe). In the later scenes, only Hamlet sees the ghost, and even if it did appear before, there’s no certainty that it’s really appearing now. When it speaks to him, it’s in a mix of Hamlet’s own voice (imitating his father) with the voices of those closest to him: Horatio, Ophelia, Laertes, Gertrude, Polonius, Claudius. The voices in his head?
I think you figure out that Hamlet is behind The Mousetrap – he makes it pretty clear from his narration, and the fact that (here, in this cutting) he pretty well steps all over the show (annoying the poor players, who are simply trying to do a good job for you and make a few bucks) to make pointed remarks that you can only go so far in ignoring – Claudius is smarter than a lot of people around him take him for, especially Hamlet, and he winds up spending time at several points having to control himself when being insulted, as if pretending he’s not noticing, because he has to be a King and not make a bad show of losing his temper in public. If it were a military subordinate in combat, he’d dress the guy down like there’s no tomorrow, but in the Court, he must hold his tongue, though the mask slips occasionally (when he ends the insulting play, or when he finally yells “Where is Polonius?!” a few scenes later as he can’t take Hamlet’s coy sniping anymore).
(2) As you say, if Claudius did it, he would be a good liar about it – after all, he believes he did it out of Duty to his Country – but it does not entirely relieve his guilt. I believe he is sincere in planning for Hamlet to take over for him one day, and that Hamlet’s growing madness – which, perhaps, he believes at first to be caused by his father’s death, something to possibly feel guilty over – is a disaster in the making for the safety of the State, though you have no idea how much so until the death of Polonius. The following scene between you and Gertrude is painful for both of you – you have lost your trusted right-hand-man who was absolutely needed by you as a political advisor and strategist, and it has become quite clear to both of you that Hamlet will NEVER be competent to become King, and not only must other plans somehow be made (one wonders if you and Gertrude know for sure if you could have an heir), but Hamlet must be gotten rid of.
As to whether “getting rid of” Hamlet actually means having him killed by England . . . well, we’re a bit ambiguous about that here too, though I wouldn’t be surprised if, with indeed a heavy heart, Claudius does in fact sign Hamlet’s death warrant, knowing that if he doesn’t, there’s always the chance he’ll return and make worse trouble. Of course, he may have simply told England to lock Hamlet up somewhere in a nice castle with good amenities and make sure he doesn’t hurt himself or others, but that’s less likely. I just don’t altogether trust Hamlet on what he says the letter said.
An interesting side note – Claudius seems more interested than Gertrude when Polonius comes to them with “the reason” to Hamlet’s problems. I think Gertrude is distracted and thinks there are much bigger things to deal with (politically, militarily, socially) than her son’s moods, and Claudius likes having a concrete “problem to solve” directly in front of him and leaps at something that can be done.
(3) So regarding guilt – I think it grows more and more as the actions that Claudius took, each of them seeming reasonable or necessary at the time, wind up having more and more horrible consequences. I think we see him buckle a little more each time another disaster comes up, his regrets and guilt increasing, until, yes, at the moment Gertrude drinks the poison, it’s essentially all over for him, and he’s almost a zombie from there to his death; he knows that even if he survives this day, the status of the Royalty will not. He has a brief, soldierly “return to his senses” after he is stabbed by Hamlet and calls to his men for help, but that’s practically a delirious reflex. A remnant of the soldier Claudius probably wishes he could have remained.
There IS a game of cat-and-mouse going on, and yet at the same time they ARE in their own bubbles – I think the combination of the two aspects is an even more interesting emotional line. They each think they are playing a game with the other, but neither of them realizes that they aren’t even playing on the same gameboard, or for the same stakes, until the game has gotten out of control – and Hamlet never realizes it; Claudius only gets it after the death of Polonius, and then tries to adapt to a game he isn’t very good at, and with uncertain rules. His and Laertes’ horrible carelessness with their plan – made careless through being overcomplicated – would never have happened with Polonius around.
So that’s MORE than enough for now. Thanks for providing the necessary thoughts and questions so that I could write this down and make it more concrete in my own mind.
see you tomorrow at the reading,
Ian
After this, I'm gone for a week before continuing with rehearsals, but I'm sure (I hope) I'll be doing plenty of character work with the actors by email.
Inside the cut below is a long email exchange between Jerry Marsini (Claudius) and myself regarding his character's motives and actions, which necessarily winds up ranging widely over many other aspects of this production. I still have mixed feelings about using LJ Cuts, but when text gets this long, I get more self-conscious about shoving it onto peoples' Friends lists.
Now . . . as has been mentioned in passing here before, I've cut from this production all definite evidence that Claudius actually killed Hamlet's father. There is the possibility, but only that, a possibility.
Still, fine to be ambiguous with the audience, but Jerry and I have to know for sure (I think, oddly perhaps, of George Romero and John Amplas, for Romero's film Martin, having to decide for themselves if the title character was actually a vampire or just an insane young man who believes he's a vampire). In these emails we make the decision -- in passing, really -- as Jerry asks for direction on Claudius and suggests a number of options. Since I still want it to be ambiguous for everyone else, I've taken out the parts where our decision is clear.
Ian,
I know you have made my guilt in the murder of my brother ambiguous in your version. In the end, I do think [decision redacted], but I'd like to hear your thoughts. Following is my own debate of the possibilities:
(1) It can be very interesting if there was no murder at all, and Gertrude and I have done our respective royal duties (reluctantly?). Given the threat of war (and perhaps Danish law?) Gertrude couldn't maintain the crown alone until Hamlet came of age. This would feed my theory that Hamlet is going mad because of thwarted ambition. And Hamlet is given the idea of a murder by his imagination (the ghost) And then, I stop the mousetrap play because I think these liberal artsy-fartsies are trying to make political power plays with the public's mind. (I don't think I suspect Hamlet had anything to do with the play, or do I? He's off his rocker and incapable, right? Do I know of his theatrical talents?) Potential logical problems: If the ghost is Hamlet's imagination, how do others see the ghost and hear him as well?
(2) On the other hand, if I did do it, I think it will be most interesting if I am a very very good liar, convinced absolutely of my innocence and good will, (that is, play it straight and never purposely let our audience in on my game.) And then the alternate reason for Hamlet's mental state (his suspecting me of murder) would be accessible to me, (whereas in the first scenario much less so) and my suggestion that he's going mad because of thwarted ambition is a deliberate decoy, as opposed to a genuine guess on my part. This option makes room for an underlying layer of guilt, which would be nice, seeing as how you took out overt references to it.
(3) Of course there is a third possibility. That I am somehow indirectly responsible for my brother's death, an accident perhaps, or I could have saved him but let him die through some inaction of mine, something abstract like that, that a ghost would simplify to the image of poison in the ear. And something that would convince my conscious mind that I'm innocent, but my subconscious would know I'm guilty. Finding myself indirectly responsible for Polonius's death as well would justify my need to destroy Hamlet, so that I could suppress this new guilt and so the truth of my brother's death may remain in denial. And when, finally, I am directly, yet accidentally responsible for Gertrude's death, it all comes rushing on: I'm guilty of them all and consequently the destruction of the kingdom.
[decision redacted -- section where Jerry debates the difference between a "game of cat-and-mouse" between Hamlet and Claudius or each of them acting "in their own bubbles," stating his preference] . . . Anything major I'm missing? I still have lots more research to do, but wanted to put this out there sooner than later. Your thoughts?
Jerry
A day later . . .
Jerry,
Great thoughts. Important ones for where we’re going. Now to winnow things down a bit and be more specific. Which may seem a contradiction, sorry, given the size of the following response, but you’ve touched on a lot of matters I have given a lot of thought to and discussed with Berit extensively, and of course I always write these replies with one eye directed at my blog, so I go on a little bit.
My feeling has always been that, given the ambiguity (deliberate) caused by my cuts, it would be up to you and me to choose, DEFINITELY, whether Claudius did it or not and that, at the very least, the two of us should know for sure.
That said, as other layers have come out in the play in working on it, while the question of guilt or not isn’t entirely unimportant to me, it is less important to me than how others in the kingdom view Claudius’ “guilt” or lack thereof. That is, even if he didn’t do it, are the people of Denmark satisfied that he didn’t do it, and if not, how does Claudius deal with this (both as a King and as a man)? He is not at all so isolated that he has no idea of how he’s perceived.
The question of him as murderer is, of course, important to you, and should be, so we can go with your preferred idea that Claudius [decision redacted].
Still, with that, there are extremely important things that you touch on in all three of your scenarios (and final paragraph) that have to be taken into account.
(1) Whether he did it or not (and whether or not he had direct or indirect help in any way from Polonius and/or Gertrude) – and we’re going on the assumption that [decision redacted] – you immediately touch on the most important word as to the motive for all his actions, in this version of the play: Duty.
The most important thing for both Claudius and Gertrude (though in different ways) is their Duty to the Country. I don’t know if you saw a previous note I wrote about Claudius when asked about him by an auditioning actor, and I think we went over most of what I said there when I read you in the part, but the link to where I posted it on my blog (it’s toward the end of this post) is HERE
I believe that Claudius does have great love for Gertrude, but I don’t believe that either that love or just ambition for the throne would be enough for our Claudius to kill his brother. If he did it, the major factor would be, as he saw it, Duty to His Country – that is, he believed, for whatever reason, that his older brother was going to screw up in some way and wind up losing Denmark to Fortinbras and Norway. I’ve noted that I see Claudius as Royal, of course, but more than happy in the past to have not had the responsibilities of his older brother, disliking the entire “court” political life, and going into the military (and doing well at it) as a bit of an escape from dealing with the family business. He is brought back in out of Duty to His Country, because he is (possibly in reality but certainly in his own mind) the only person who can fix things with Denmark right now.
Hamlet is definitely of age to be King, and by all rights should be with his father’s death. No one is quite saying boo about Claudius’ presumption because everyone kind of knows that Hamlet just isn’t ready to be King (including Hamlet’s mother). However, though the rest of the country may know this, that doesn’t make them entirely comfortable with Claudius’ actions, and he knows it. His line in his first scene noting that Hamlet is next in line of succession after him is a sop to the public to ease their fears about the irregularity of what has happened. But Hamlet has been raised with the assumption that he would one day be a “Peacetime King,” and what Denmark needs now is a “War King” to stave off the very real external threat posed by Fortinbras.
So, Claudius and Gertrude are primarily about Duty. It works in different ways for them, though, as Claudius is a reluctant (but accepting) King and Gertrude is a Queen through and through. He feels his Duties as falling, in order of importance, as Country, Husband, Soldier, Man, King, and she sees hers as Country, Queen, Wife, Mother (in her case, all basically the same job – I believe he has a sense of “self” that is something apart from an identity as “King,” and that she has subsumed any sense of self in a pure identity as “Queen”). He is, I think, crazy about Gertrude – she is very very fond of him but primarily supports him as “the King my Country needs right now.”
Now, as to Hamlet in your first scenario – you’re on the right track, but with the wrong word; I’m not sure there even is a correct word, but it isn’t “ambition.” Hamlet didn’t have ambition for the throne, it was simply his to have. For his entire conscious life he’s been brought up with the knowledge, the certain knowledge, that he would succeed his father as King. He didn’t have to have ambition, it was his whether he wanted it or not. Now, this immense certainty has been taken away from him, and it’s as if nothing is real or solid for him anymore . . . and this seems to be a bit more of a real cause for madness than thwarted ambition.
The ghost may indeed be in his imagination in this production – though others see it in the first scene (and prior), as does the audience, since I’m playing the part here, you could say that what they are seeing is Hamlet dressed up as his father, wandering the battlements. We can maybe read this as group hysteria, or as some kind of indication of a mad and somnambulant Hamlet (the “Norman Bates” Hamlet, maybe). In the later scenes, only Hamlet sees the ghost, and even if it did appear before, there’s no certainty that it’s really appearing now. When it speaks to him, it’s in a mix of Hamlet’s own voice (imitating his father) with the voices of those closest to him: Horatio, Ophelia, Laertes, Gertrude, Polonius, Claudius. The voices in his head?
I think you figure out that Hamlet is behind The Mousetrap – he makes it pretty clear from his narration, and the fact that (here, in this cutting) he pretty well steps all over the show (annoying the poor players, who are simply trying to do a good job for you and make a few bucks) to make pointed remarks that you can only go so far in ignoring – Claudius is smarter than a lot of people around him take him for, especially Hamlet, and he winds up spending time at several points having to control himself when being insulted, as if pretending he’s not noticing, because he has to be a King and not make a bad show of losing his temper in public. If it were a military subordinate in combat, he’d dress the guy down like there’s no tomorrow, but in the Court, he must hold his tongue, though the mask slips occasionally (when he ends the insulting play, or when he finally yells “Where is Polonius?!” a few scenes later as he can’t take Hamlet’s coy sniping anymore).
(2) As you say, if Claudius did it, he would be a good liar about it – after all, he believes he did it out of Duty to his Country – but it does not entirely relieve his guilt. I believe he is sincere in planning for Hamlet to take over for him one day, and that Hamlet’s growing madness – which, perhaps, he believes at first to be caused by his father’s death, something to possibly feel guilty over – is a disaster in the making for the safety of the State, though you have no idea how much so until the death of Polonius. The following scene between you and Gertrude is painful for both of you – you have lost your trusted right-hand-man who was absolutely needed by you as a political advisor and strategist, and it has become quite clear to both of you that Hamlet will NEVER be competent to become King, and not only must other plans somehow be made (one wonders if you and Gertrude know for sure if you could have an heir), but Hamlet must be gotten rid of.
As to whether “getting rid of” Hamlet actually means having him killed by England . . . well, we’re a bit ambiguous about that here too, though I wouldn’t be surprised if, with indeed a heavy heart, Claudius does in fact sign Hamlet’s death warrant, knowing that if he doesn’t, there’s always the chance he’ll return and make worse trouble. Of course, he may have simply told England to lock Hamlet up somewhere in a nice castle with good amenities and make sure he doesn’t hurt himself or others, but that’s less likely. I just don’t altogether trust Hamlet on what he says the letter said.
An interesting side note – Claudius seems more interested than Gertrude when Polonius comes to them with “the reason” to Hamlet’s problems. I think Gertrude is distracted and thinks there are much bigger things to deal with (politically, militarily, socially) than her son’s moods, and Claudius likes having a concrete “problem to solve” directly in front of him and leaps at something that can be done.
(3) So regarding guilt – I think it grows more and more as the actions that Claudius took, each of them seeming reasonable or necessary at the time, wind up having more and more horrible consequences. I think we see him buckle a little more each time another disaster comes up, his regrets and guilt increasing, until, yes, at the moment Gertrude drinks the poison, it’s essentially all over for him, and he’s almost a zombie from there to his death; he knows that even if he survives this day, the status of the Royalty will not. He has a brief, soldierly “return to his senses” after he is stabbed by Hamlet and calls to his men for help, but that’s practically a delirious reflex. A remnant of the soldier Claudius probably wishes he could have remained.
There IS a game of cat-and-mouse going on, and yet at the same time they ARE in their own bubbles – I think the combination of the two aspects is an even more interesting emotional line. They each think they are playing a game with the other, but neither of them realizes that they aren’t even playing on the same gameboard, or for the same stakes, until the game has gotten out of control – and Hamlet never realizes it; Claudius only gets it after the death of Polonius, and then tries to adapt to a game he isn’t very good at, and with uncertain rules. His and Laertes’ horrible carelessness with their plan – made careless through being overcomplicated – would never have happened with Polonius around.
So that’s MORE than enough for now. Thanks for providing the necessary thoughts and questions so that I could write this down and make it more concrete in my own mind.
see you tomorrow at the reading,
Ian
