HAMLET
HAMLET, Bell Shakespeare Company at the Playhouse Theatre, Sydney Opera House, 27 October-6 December 2015. Photography by Daniel Boud: above - Catherine Terracini, Matilda Ridgway, Ivan Donato, Julia Ohannessian and Doris Younane; right: Josh McConville and Doris Younane.
Coming at the end of a week that began on Monday night (see A Record of the Night here below) with a powerful restatement of what women find wanting and want of their industry (theatre and film) it’s a sweet irony to see this version of Hamlet finally arrive in Sydney.
Directed by Damien Ryan and on the road since July on a tour that went to every state and territory, it’s as feminist in its vision and interpretation as I can ever recall. By that I mean there is a subtle emphasis on the deep-rooted misogyny lying at the heart of the society portrayed in the play that shines a bright light on the position of women, then and now.
Troubled Denmark or troubled England towards the end of Elizabeth I’s reign: take your pick. In England it was a time when the ageing queen’s image was sexualised to the hilt to ensure she could maintain the power of her throne against overwhelming male supremacy. For Elizabeth at an already raddled 66, it was a necessity in the absence of an heir and political stability.
For Denmark’s Elsinore, Gertrude (Doris Younane) is the desperate attempt to grab and hold on to power by her new husband Claudius (Sean O’Shea), brother of the dead king and his murderer. In the play Gertrude is the mostly silent but nevertheless potent central symbol of desire in the drama – queen, continuity, authority and male power.
For her son Hamlet (Josh McConville) mourning his father – dead just two months – Gertrude is a particularly difficult sight. His love for her is curdled by grief for his father and the understandable (from 2015’s point of view) rage at seeing her in his uncle’s arms and bed. On the other hand, a woman in Gertrude’s position could do little – other than retire to a nunnery – other than parcel herself off to the highest bidder, in this instance, the new king.
The same applies to young Ophelia (Matilda Ridgway) daughter of Polonius (Philip Dodd). Her rank at court and Hamlet’s love for her are as nought when it comes to the machinations and manoeuvring necessary to maintain social and political status.
The play illustrates, with awful clarity, why two high-born women suffer the plight of being little more than goods and chattels. Who can wonder why the older, wiser Gertrude is so compliant and why fiery, still hopeful Ophelia is driven to insanity and worse.
Feminism is almost tangible in the mists that swirl around the elegantly forbidding and chilly Danish palace (excellent, thoughtful design: Alicia Clements, atmospheric and astutely complementary lighting by Matt Cox). A couple of weeks ago, Matilda Ridgway reported in on Facebook from the Canberra leg of the tour:
“In the Q&A post show today, a student asked me – how do you cry onstage? I said that being a female actor you get asked a lot to take off your clothes and cry so you get good at it. Sort of like how male actors get good at sword fighting and having all the dialogue. The audience of mostly 14-17-year-old boys and girls erupted into laughter, thunderous applause and hoots and hollers. And one very loud ‘snap!’ There is an audience for my feminist ranting and apparently it’s the Canberra youth.”
Adding to this unique shaping of the 400-year-old masterpiece is the unremarked inclusion of two other women in the company – Julia Ohannessian and Catherine Terracini. They play a variety of roles – Voltemand, the Player King and Queen, Bernardo, Cornelia, Fortinbras and Marcellus – all part of the modern setting where women are at both ends of the spectrum of rights and where electronic surveillance equipment and surreptitious listeners take the place of the old fashioned spies in corners.
Yet Hamlet is of course, the ultimate revenge drama and the prince’s pain, fury and intent are somehow rendered more logical than usual by these surroundings, where nothing is fair or just. Sniping at his mother, snarling at his uncle, dismissing the bewildered Ophelia and generally driving his loyal friend Horatio (Ivan Donato) bonkers through his reckless behaviour cannot be seen as other than predictable in the circumstances. To Hamlet it seems, sex is at the heart of all this misery and he will have none of it.
So if the road to hell is paved with good intentions, then this particular downhill journey to disaster begins with Hamlet’s unintended killing of the sneakily lurking Polonius. The temperature of retribution begins to rise from that point and is brought to the boil with the prince’s employment of the visiting players to enact “The Death of Gonzago” – for the entertainment of his mother and her husband and their court.
The inexorably turning wheel of ill fortune gains momentum from the moment Hamlet, in auteur mode, rehearses the actors in one of the many comedically rendered scenes that both lighten and enhance the sense of dread and foreboding that’s been building from the start.
This is an irresistible version of the play and the company is tight as a drum with it and one another. Josh McConville is a man whose place in life and at court has been usurped and there is no going back. Is he suicidal? Probably not consciously, but he sees no hope and his actions make the end inevitable. Doris Younane and Matilda Ridgway are the yin and yang of the female condition and their strength and subtlety in the depicting of it are superb.
The rest of the company – Philip Dodd doubling as a Gravedigger, Robin Goldsworthy (Reynaldo, Rosencrantz, Osric, Gravedigger) and Michael Wahr as Laertes, Francisco and Guldenstern – round out and complete a fine and absorbing telling of the story. It’s funny, witty, relevant, politically on the pace and, of course, the grandest of grand tragedies. Anyone wondering why they should see it again – wonder no longer, it’s totally fascinating.
