Visually, aspects of Oskar Eustis' production of Hamlet, which opened last night at the Delacorte Theater in Central Park, suggest that the action of Shakespeare's classic tragedy is taking place in the late 1950s or early 1960s. Hamlet's austere, yet sometimes sensitive, mother Gertrude (Margaret Colin) wears a simple dark wool suit (from costume designer Ann Hould-Ward). When the players, who will eventually stage the play-within-a-play that Hamlet (Michael Stuhlbarg) uses to convince himself that his father was murdered by his uncle Claudius (Andre Braugher), arrive, they look like a ragtag group that might have stumbled out of Vermont, all in plaids. The gigantic puppet that they carry as they arrive on the scene, and the ones that they later use to present their play (all designed by Basil Twist), bring to mind experimental work that might have been seen off and off-off Broadway in the mid 1960s.
The period for this production fascinates because the Public Theater's second production in the park this summer will be the musical that galvanized the city and the country, Hair. In it, the youth of America are taking an active stand against their government, its policies, and the society in which they've been raised. In this Hamlet, it almost feels as if Hamlet, who procrastinates wildly as he seeks revenge for his fathers death, along with Ophelia (Lauren Ambrose), and Laertes (David Harbour), are young people who want to rebel against the world in which they live, and yet cannot work up the nerve to actually do anything.
As audiences contemplate the undercurrents of a waning Eisenhower-like age in this Hamlet, they'll also be able to enjoy a host of exceptional performances that carry one through this lengthy (three hour and fifteen minute) show. Setting aside Stuhlbarg's performance in the title role for a moment, both Ambrose and Harbour delivery finely crafted performances of the two characters with whom Hamlet has grown up. Ambrose subtly hints at the gnawing sense that she doesn't need to obey her father, and shares a couple of incredibly steamy moments with Stuhlbarg's melancholy Dane. When madness descends on Ophelia, one senses that it comes not only from grief, but also from just sheer exhaustion from having to maintain a façade and demeanor contrary to her nature. Harbour's Laertes, who quickly snuffs a cigarette out so as to maintain appearances in front of the King, is Ophelia's antithesis. Here's a guy who's all about doing what's right. Additionally, Harbour imbues the character with a certain dumb lummox-ness that makes it evident why this character might thrive in the court of Elsinore.
Equally appealing is Braugher's turn as the man who's killed his brother and married his sister-in-law en route to the throne of Denmark. Braugher's Claudius has a smoothness and oiliness that one associates with a used-car salesman, but interestingly, he never allows the character to become overtly smarmy or particularly evil. This man is simply a slick operator who knows what he wants and how to achieve his ends. On many levels, it's easy to understand why Colin's upstanding, but rather ineffectual, Gertrude might fall for this man, not so much in love, but rather, in respect.
Sam Waterston, who now is a fixture on Law and Order, but once played the title role in this play in this theater, delivers a curious turn as this couple's loyal advisor, and Ophelia and Laertes' father, Polonius. Waterston seems determined to mask the hawk-like nature that they associate with his television character Jack McCoy, giving his voice a curious high pitch and underscoring certain aspects of the early senility from which Polonius seems to suffer. There are times this works marvelously: for instance, when Polonius completely loses his train of thought while talking with his daughter. Elsewhere, though, Waterston's performance can feel unduly gimmicky.
This is not true of Jay O. Sanders' work as the Gravedigger whom Hamlet meets (during which the "Alas poor Yorick…" speech is delivered). Sanders' portrayal of this rustic comic never feels forced. Sanders also plays the ghost of King Hamlet and the Player King of the play-with-a-play, and in each his work is filled with humanity, tinged with gravity.
Stuhlbarg's performance falls somewhere between Waterston's and Sanders' work. Initially, when the actor takes to the stage, placing a single red rose at the eternal flame at his father's grave (the set which evokes both a military bunker and a rocky promontory comes from designer David Korins), there's something almost majestic about Stuhlbarg and Hamlet's grief. As the play progresses, we see remnants of this regality and throughout there is a keen intelligence to Stuhlbarg's delivery of the verse.
At the same time, though, as Hamlet dives into his "madness" (and in Stuhlbarg's interpretation, one sense's that much of Hamlet's behavior is feigned), there is an antic quality to the work that seems over-the-top. At one point, a jig that Hamlet performs brings to mind Groucho Marx's Captain Spalding. To a certain extent, some of the excesses in Stuhlbarg's performance make sense; we see early on that Hamlet has the ability to shift his behavior to suit the moment when he first sees Horatio (Kevin Carroll). But, even given this, one can't help wish that Eustis might have helped Stuhlbarg to edit his performance.
Ultimately though, Eustis' production intrigues more often than not and is a fitting precursor to Hair, which incidentally was seen alongside Hamlet when the Public first opened its doors in 1967.
----Andy Propst
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Hamlet continues through June 29 at the Delacorte Theatre in Central Park. For performance schedule and information on obtaining free tickets, visit http://www.publictheater.org/.
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