Look! Hamlet!

Seven-year-old on the sidewalk, looking up at the Symphony Space marquee, then looking straight ahead at the poster of Hamlet reaching up at the light for the spectre of his father (when, to Hamlet's surprise, and perhaps of significance, the ghost is actually below him rather than above) and stopping dead in his tracks and tugging on his dad's hand excitedly: "Hamlet!! Dad! Look!! Hamlet!!"

I hear ya, kid.  I can't say I would have been that excited to see Shakespeare's play when I was seven (I was more likely to tug on my parents' hands at the site of a marquee with either a ballerina or a Disney character on it), but that's certainly how I felt last night about watching the filmed production I originally saw live in Stratford, Ontario last summer.  To my disappointment, the vast majority of the less-than-half-full audience were seniors, and four cell phones went off during the film, with the few young people there repeatedly getting up and leaving to talk on them, so I hope that seven-year-old spreads his love of The Bard to his generation.  Of those who sat it out, however, I was surprised to hear gasps and a fair number of verbal reactions, with one gentleman behind me whispering quotes throughout and the man several seats over repeatedly declaring loudly to anyone who would hear how "positively genius" this Hamlet was.  Not that I disagree, and I totally get the need to talk about what you're watching -- hence this blog post -- but not during the show, dude.... However, far more annoying to me than Mr. Talkative was Ms Judgmental Condescension during intermission....

Woman A at intermission, to friend who's all in a huff and walking out of theatre: Where are you going? 
Woman B: *scoffs* Well. [With a "duh" expression on her face, gesturing to the theatre]
Woman A: Huh?

Woman B: LEAVING

A (surprised and confused): What? Why?

B (scoffing and gesturing to the theatre again, raising her eyebrows with an "are you stupid?" expression): It's terrible.  Have you even been watching?

A (stammering and looking embarrassed and blushing, quietly): Oh. I, um... I hadn't noticed.

Okay, everyone's entitled to their opinion, but
1. Know the difference between not liking something and that something being "terrible."  I have seen plenty of terrible shows.  I have also seen shows I disliked or even hated but would not say were terrible.  Terrible means the director, actors, and designers are not competently doing their jobs (or that the play is just bad, but since this is Shakespeare's Hamlet, I'm gonna go ahead and assume that's not what she was talking about here...).  There might be some atypical choices in this production, and perhaps they're not to everyone's liking -- and certainly the actual filming of the show leaves much to be desired, with the excessive closeups excising far too much of the work by the actors, designers, and director....  But Jonathan Goad, Tom Rooney, Robert King, and others unquestionably have an astounding grasp of the language and the nuanced meaning behind the language, display a masterful marriage of intellectual and physical choices, and possess all the tools necessary to make their considerable technique invisible.  This Hamlet is strikingly real and human, connecting to the audience and eliciting empathy to a degree I haven't seen from this character before, and whether or not you like the production, it is not under any circumstances "terrible."

And 2. HEY DON'T MOCK YOUR FRIEND, LADY!!!  This woman just totally condescended to anyone who dare like this production and implied that if you do like it, you're not paying attention. Who made her the Shakespeare enjoyment police, judge, and jury?  I hate pretentious know-it-all opinions of theatre, film, or any other kind of art that discredit anyone who dares enjoy the art as being unsophisticated or not paying attention.  If a friend tells you they enjoy something, even if you think it's a pile of stinking dog turds, you can disagree but still let them have their enjoyment without putting them down for it, diminishing their opinion, and making them feel small.  Intellectual debate about the merits of a production is wonderful and encourages independent, creative thought.  Snidely implying the other person is not as smart as you because they're moved by something and you're not is just bullying.

As I returned from the impossibly long bathroom line at intermission (where I learned that supposedly in Texas there's a new law that any bathrooms built in public spaces have to have more women's stalls than men's -- Go Texas!) and wondered what exactly that woman wanted to see in this production (Mel Gibson?  Ethan Hawke?  Now there's a performance I'd sure enjoy debating with someone...), I was dismayed to see I had missed an interview with Jonathan Goad (Hamlet) that aired during intermission.  Seeing the production live last summer, it took both my parents and me a few minutes to warm up to his interpretation.  But not long into that Act 1, I was hooked and riveted.  I love his interpretation and am fascinated by it.  He is the most intelligent, funny (yes, Hamlet's a pretty intentionally funny guy and punster), emotional, and relatable Hamlet I've seen.  Goad's contrasts between stillness and movement are specific and dynamic yet feel completely intuitive and spontaneous, making him utterly alive and passionate and in the moment -- not necessarily an easy feat for a character known for giving seven soliloquies and not doing much of anything.  Searching vainly on the internet for that interview I missed at intermission, I came across a Broadway World review that called him "electrifying."  Yes.  Exactly.  His Hamlet is electrifying.  And that makes for an incredibly exciting production and one that I would watch over and over -- no doubt ignoring the critics while happily identifying with the "Look! Hamlet!" excitement of that wide-eyed seven-year-old.