Summary 
An exceptional dramatization of the youngish prince's resistance, like a Romantic poet, of his own damnation by the revenge code. Lushly costumed in a pre-Victorian richness of silk and velvet, clearly enacted with well-articulated lines, and enhanced with effective but non-intrusive original music.
Design
Directed by Barbara Gaines. Set by James Noone. Costumes by Michael Krass. Lights by Anne Militello. Sound by Robert Neuhaus. Original songs and music by Alaric Jans.
Cast
Kevin Gudahl (Horatio), Howard Witt (Ghost/Gravedigger), Johnny Lee Davenport (Claudius), Lisa Dodson (Gertrude), Christopher Gerson (Laertes), Greg Vinkler (Polonius), Robert Petkoff (Hamlet), Mariann Mayberry (Ophelia).
Analysis
Shakespeare Repertory's Hamlet establishes the reason for the title character's inaction within the goodness of Hamlet's heart. As director Barbara Gaines indicated in pre-production interviews, Hamlet has "such gentleness of soul" that she "desperately" does not want him to commit murder, even in the name of revenge. During the course of the play, this student, philosopher, poet, playwright, and actor, this sincere lover and obedient son, tragically transforms into an instrument of vengeance ("now could I drink hot blood"). Hamlet eventually becomes like his warrior father: "I am Hamlet, the Dane," the prince boldly announces at Ophelia's grave in 5.1.
Gaines sets this production in the early 19th century, pointedly the period of the English Romantic poets. Robert Petkoff portrays Hamlet as a long-haired outsider, a poetic rebel comparable to Shelley or Byron. Petkoff is a nearly perfect Hamlet in appearance and demeanor: thirtyish but looking much younger, he shows flashes of the prince's former wit and frolic beneath his melancholy, and beneath his anger he reveals uncertainty and shame.
Petkoff's Hamlet is a marvel of conflicting emotions as he subtly shifts from the offended incredulity he shows during his first encounter with the Ghost. During his 3.2 discourse with the players, he is at his most animated - his movement almost a dance, his words rushing in a torrent - and his pedantry strongly resembles that of Polonius, with the actors turning to avoid and ignore his long-winded instructions.
Petkoff shows Hamlet reeling after the betrayal of his supposed friends, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern ("adders fang'd"), and especially following Ophelia's 3.1 lie: "where is thy father?" - "at home, my lord." It is only after Ophelia's disloyalty that Hamlet reveals his capability for violence, and he demonstrates surprising cruelty to Ophelia, roughly shoving her aside during a dismissive "get thee to a nunn'ry" speech. Hamlet's shock at his own violence is made palpable by Petkoff's devastated body language following the 3.4 killing of Polonius. Hamlet has clearly fallen within the abyss of the revenge code, as evidenced by Petkoff's defeated realization of what Polonius' murder means for Hamlet's soul.
Scenic design, although simple, impressively depicts the austere sterility of the Denmark kingdom against which the passionate Hamlet rebels. An enormous mirror-like scrim, hung deep at the back of the stage, shimmers slightly and reflects the side lighting. Dim reflections of actors and audience appear like ghosts from the upstage glimmer. Almost never clearly or brightly lit, the expansive but unadorned thrust gray stage often swirls with an icy fog.
A rather young Claudius is virile, imposing and imbued with confidence. He responds to Hamlet's remarks and subtle accusations with such apparent confusion and dismay that someone unfamiliar with the story of Hamlet might believe Claudius innocent and the Ghost a devil. As the play begins, Hamlet ties a black arm-band of mourning around his mother's arm and hands one to Claudius. The King, while gently admonishing the prince for his "unmanly grief," drops the cloth at Hamlet's feet.
Claudius wears red, as does Gertrude, and during their scenes together they are lit in passionate red light. A flowing crimson curtain adorns their royal chamber. As Claudius' primary motive in this production - lust rather than ambition - becomes apparent, so does his guilt in the 3.2 mousetrap scene. Claudius' murder is emphasized in the scene's culmination: the new King's cry of "give me light; away!" is suddenly blacked out for the intermission. The second half begins with a repetition of this same cry, punctuating the reality of Claudius' guilt as well as the course for Hamlet's action ("I'll take the Ghost's word").
Claudius, after this point, becomes desperate, and like Hamlet, begins a downward spiral toward violence and tragedy. His scene with Laertes in 4.7 takes place within a steam bath, both men naked except for towels. The two are symbolically stripped to their core while they plot murder and heap deceit upon deceit - an unbated sword, the point envenomed, the cup poisoned.
Polonius represents more than just a comic relief who spouts platitudes and misinterprets Hamlet and his behavior; Petkoff reveals through his responses to Polonius that it is the advisor's embrace of the new monarch - as well as Rosencrantz's and Guildenstern's - that most offends him. Further, in light of Hamlet's struggle with the Ghost's patriarchal command, he also bears ill will because of Polonius' paternal authority over Ophelia, and, in turn, to her due to her obsequiousness before her father.
The turning point in the tragedy arrives with Polonius' death. Gertrude's chamber is signified by an ironically white curtain that provides Polonius his hiding place. When Hamlet stabs him, in an explosion of reflexive anger, the curtain is splattered with scarlet stage blood to subtly counterpoint the color of Claudius' own scrim.
Mariann Mayberry as Ophelia provides a good visual match for Petkoff's Hamlet: she has the same physical maturity and portrays a similar delicacy of spirit. She is at her best in the tearful (rather than histrionic) 4.5 flower scene, and her tenderness in the offering of the withered flowers is mirrored later by Gertrude in her 5.1 scene over Ophelia's grave: "sweets for the sweet."
Episodic scenes - Fortinbras' 4.4 march on Poland, the 5.1 gravediggers sequence - seem unfocused and interruptive rather than a seamless hurtling toward tragedy. Aside from these fits and starts, the conclusion works well, especially due to the well-choreographed rapier contest. Staged before a flowing gold curtain, the duel suddenly escalates the production's intensity. Hamlet seems quietly resolute, but after his apology, followed by the realization that Laertes' sword is unbated, he becomes frenzied.
When Gertrude collapses in a horrific upside-down sprawl on the steps in front of her throne, Hamlet's cry of "treachery! seek it out" is the double-edged sword it should be: the shout of the avenger as well as the cry of the damned. Once Claudius is dispatched - frozen with shock and therefore no match for the diminutive Hamlet's fury - the "true" prince returns. Hamlet collapses, his spirit crushed and his fall broken - appropriately - by the stalwart Horatio, played with gentle patience and the grace of a true friend.
The emotions depicted are crushing, from Hamlet bemoaning his "wounded name" to Horatio grasping for the dregs in the poisoned cup. Fortinbras' entrance is included - he tears down the gold curtain and looks on, backlit in bright yellow - but the closing moments between Hamlet and Horatio are by far the most memorable of the production. Hamlet dies within his friend's arms, and Horatio, visibly shaken, squeezes one of Ophelia's flowers in his hand and sprinkles the petals to gently fall over Hamlet's face.
With the poignancy of this concluding moment, Barbara Gaines manages to capture the spirit of Hamlet: the struggle of a gentle soul to reconcile the demands of the medieval revenge code. Within the horror of the concluding bloodbath of violence and revenge, one hopes - in sympathy with Hamlet - that there truly is "special providence in the fall of a sparrow."
Note: A version of this article was edited and published in Shakespeare Bulletin, Vol.15, No.2, Spring 1997.