Summary 
Outstanding interpretation of Hamlet as family drama, minimizing political context and focusing on sordid relationships, especially the incestuous Claudius and Gertrude and an interpreted sexual brother-sister relationship between Ophelia and Laertes. A remarkable Hamlet progresses from petulant child to manic adolescent, finally becoming a resolute Prince in an intelligent and touching performance. Searing drama, tightly focused, and powerfully and memorably staged.
Design
Directed by Michael Kahn. Set by Derek McLane. Costumes by Catherine Zuber. Lights by Howell Binkley. Compositions and sound by Adam Wernick. Fights by David Leong.
Cast
Tom Hulce (Hamlet), Jack Ryland (Claudius), Franchelle Stewart Dorn (Gertrude), Daniel Southern (Ghost), Ted van Griethuysen (Polonius), Jay Goede (Laertes), Francesca Buller (Ophelia), Eric Hoffman (Reynaldo/Gravedigger), Hank Stratton (Horatio), Emery Battis (Player King).
Analysis
Michael Kahn's production of Hamlet at the Shakespeare Theatre is an intimate family drama with focus on generational conflicts and interrelationships. Kahn eschews the affairs of state and minimizes the political elements of the play, excising the character of Fortinbras. Although Kahn has Hamlet ' Tom Hulce in a superb portrayal that illuminates the progression of the Prince from a petulant child to lovesick adolescent to resolute young man ' sit briefly in Claudius' throne and comment, 'I lack of advancement,' more emphasis is placed on personal moments such as when Hamlet, depicted in isolation upstage, ominously intones, 'I am alone.' Kahn's Denmark is a corrupt and diseased kingdom from which Hulce's young and self-conscious Hamlet attempts to disassociate himself: when approached by his school friends, Hamlet is depicted scrubbing his hands compulsively with a sponge, as if he is contaminated and attempting in vain to remove the familial stain that includes his own doom; and after the performance of The Murder of Gonzago, when the King's guilt is confirmed, Hamlet climbs atop a ladder to a platform above to mock and condemn the court below.
Kahn's claustrophobic setting features acid-etched metal walls and an industrial catwalk over a green marble floor, giving the stage the emotional feel of a prison cell. Apart from a single weathered column and a spiral metal staircase that leads to the aforementioned platform, the only other set pieces are looming upstage door panels that slide open to reveal a gloomy view of a stormy outdoor sea and sky. Kahn begins the production with the clash of metal and the peal of distant bells as swirling stage fog slowly envelops the entire stage and much of the audience. The watch's searchlights cut in diagonals through the mist, and when they dramatically find multiple ghosts of Hamlet's father (through clever use of doubles), the sense of mystery, confusion, and 'some strange eruption' is palpable in its urgency and gloom.
Hulce's diminutive and baby-faced Hamlet, carrying luggage and a satchel of books, peevishly stalks past the royal wedding procession led by a bishop. He ascends the upstage stairs as Ophelia catches Gertrude's wedding bouquet, but drops his leather bags to the stage with a loud crash that startles the entire court. Only agreeing to stay at court when urged by his mother and after exchanging glances ' and a love letter ' with Ophelia, Hamlet pointedly steps away from Claudius' outstretched arm. He in turn finds his mother's embrace broken by the new King, leaving him with his hand reaching plaintively toward her. Kahn provides an illustrative counterpoint: moments later, shown upon the rampart with the watch, Hulce's Hamlet holds his dagger like a crucifix before the martial apparition of his murdered father, then takes the ghost's hand and embraces him fully.
Hulce's portrayal of Hamlet is that of a frightened and desperate young man fighting his way through a nightmare of family losses, betrayals, and corruptions. Always engaging and spontaneous, this is an intelligent and ultimately touching Hamlet, drawn from Hulce's Hollywood star power and notoriety for his memorable film performance as Wolfgang Mozart in Amadeus, another doomed artist lost too soon. Hulce's soliloquies, brooding and introspective in execution, reveal the vulnerability of the character, delivered downstage in tortured self-examination, with bursts of anger and frustration. The engaging Hulce rushes downstage to challenge the audience ' 'Who calls me villain?' ' and after the reordered 'to be or not to be' soliloquy, delivered kneeling upon the platform, clutching at his sword, he emerges in feigned madness, and he has become noticeably adolescent both in appearance ' his hair on end, his clothes askew, wearing plebeian work boots ' and in demeanor: nervous to the point of high-strung, more manic than melancholy, intensely confused. His puppy-love mood swings are apparent when he impulsively rejects Ophelia upon noticing the movement of the arras and therefore the presence of Polonius and Claudius. He flings his love note in Ophelia's face, grabs at her loins, and roughly shoves her to the floor ' 'get thee to a nunnery' ' before storming offstage, but moments later he meekly returns, his voice choked as he calls her name, and he retrieves his letter before surrendering it to Polonius. Later, upon his return from England, Hulce's Hamlet is calm and composed, his hair slicked back, his demeanor resigned but resolute, the emergence of a self-realized and matured young man. His cry of 'I lov'd Ophelia!' is heartbroken and moving.
Ophelia is depicted with the same child-like traits as Hamlet ' thin and frail physically like a porcelain doll, she is also emotionally fragile ' but unlike Hamlet, she cannot endure the myriad emotional pressures, and where Hamlet emerges, she succumbs: 'to be or not to be, that is the question.' Ophelia, in love with Hamlet but for the most part ignored by Claudius and patronized by Gertrude, carries similar family burdens, psychologically abused by the stern Polonius and apparently in an incestuously sexual relationship with her brother, Laertes. Ophelia puts flowers from Gertrude's wedding bouquet into Laertes' hair, and the brother and sister embrace and fall onto Gertrude's and Claudius' bed. The embrace becomes disturbingly sexual when Laertes lifts Ophelia's skirt and mounts her, and she rolls suggestively on top of him. Ophelia reveals Hamlet-like brooding intensity, hanging her head and drumming her fingers impatiently, but where Hamlet feigns madness after the murder of his father, Ophelia tragically falls. Ophelia's deep blue gown from the opening scenes gives way to black mourning clothes then white undergarments, and Ophelia again plucks at Gertrude's bouquet ('he loves me not') for her remembrances. She smears red make-up from a rouge pot like blood across her face then upon the crotch of her nightgown, seeming to symbolize that her madness results from both murder and incest.
The conscienceless Claudius is portrayed not so much as a usurping King than as an evil Uncle. He always has a wine goblet in hand and seems to constantly kiss or fondle Gertrude. They emerge from a bedroom when they greet Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, she barefoot with her hair down. Rattled by the mousetrap play, Claudius nonetheless offers applause before falling to his knees for an attempt at prayer upon the elevated platform. Hamlet emerges below for his revenge, but Claudius is both literally and figuratively out of his reach, his prayer lofty and Hamlet's vengeance base. Claudius reveals his attempt at contrition to be hollow, however, as he plots further violence immediately thereafter.
Gertrude, presented as Claudius' partner both politically and in the bedroom ' she shares in his diplomatic victory over Norway ' is pragmatic and ambitious, and therefore suspect of complicity in the coup d''tat murder of the elder Hamlet. After Hulce's Hamlet pulls back the bedclothes to reveal 'incestuous sheets,' he mounts her, then pulls her by her leg down onto the floor, but afterward she rushes off to Claudius' embrace. Gertrude's attire indicates her allegiance: she wears a pink and lavender gown while cavorting with Claudius, then a low-cut scarlet nightgown within her bedchamber, but after embracing Claudius, she seems to intuit his guilt as well as Hamlet's righteousness. She exits separately from Claudius after the loss of Ophelia, turning her back to Claudius' outstretched hand, and she wears increasingly prim and buttoned-up clothing during the second act, and significantly, does not wear her crown. Most importantly, during the duel, Gertrude realizes that Claudius has poisoned Hamlet's goblet, and she knowingly intercepts and drinks from it, sacrificing herself for her son as well as releasing herself from the incestuous carnality of the depraved kingdom.
Polonius is depicted as less a political flunky in league with Claudius than as an overly strict patriarch in yet another debauched household. Laertes and Ophelia laugh at him by sharing amused glances, but he cruelly locks away the love letter from Hamlet ' 'never doubt I love' ' and sends Reynaldo to spy on Laertes abroad, revealing both distrust and dishonesty along with his fading memory ' perhaps due to Alzheimer's disease ' and failing judgment. Polonius receives his comeuppance when he is stabbed behind the arras by Hamlet. Pointedly, he staggers toward the Prince and raises a hand against him before collapsing upon the King's incestuous bed. Laertes suffers a similar fate, deserved due to his sexual corruption of Ophelia and his politic obedience to Polonius and Claudius.
His formal duel with Hamlet disintegrates into a brawl, thrilling and intense. Chairs are knocked over, and the court screams and shouts, some scattering and some trying to separate the combatants. Hamlet and Laertes duel two thirds of the way up the spiral suitcase, and when Hamlet kills Laertes, it is with a gruesome stab to the stomach, although there's a notion that Hamlet could have better avenged Ophelia with an even lower strike.
Kahn contrasts the Prince's undergraduate school friends, depicting the round-spectacled Horatio as a confidante to Hulce's Hamlet, at the beginning a literal light in the darkness with his lantern in the swirling mist, and at the end a sole survivor delivering Fortinbras' concluding lines: 'bid the soldiers shoot.' Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, on the other hand, are portrayed in colorful costumes, making their initial appearance flaunting disembodied limbs from mannequins from behind an upstage curtain, then mimicking and spying upon Hamlet despite his greeting them with (at least initially) genuine warmth.
Kahn's family-tragedy vision of Hamlet, while admittedly a singular interpretation, works extremely well onstage, intensifying the interpersonal relationships and adding human significance ' rather than political ramifications ' to the allegiances and actions. And with the mercurial Hulce at the production's core, vulnerable and intelligent, likeable and touching, the conclusion carries great dramatic impact, with Hulce's Hamlet carried aloft from the stage by soldiers. Casting Hulce, with his Amadeus pedigree, as Hamlet is a master stroke for Kahn. With little affectation from his wonderful film performance, Hulce nonetheless channels another immensely likeable hero who is at once young, brilliant, artistic, charismatic ' and doomed.