Summary 
A Canadian television hero Prince - tall, handsome, sophisticated, fit and commanding - overcomes his grief to wreak havoc on a murderer's usurped court. Well directed - good use of doubling and a strong and imposing depiction of a bully Claudius - on a stark but expansive stage, elegant and entertaining but not satisfyingly insightful or tragic.
Design
Directed by Joseph Ziegler. Set by Christina Poddubiuk. Lights by Louise Guinand. Music by Laura Burton. Sound by Jim Neil. Fights by John Stead. Choreography by John Broome.
Cast
With Paul Gross (Hamlet), Benedict Campbell (Claudius), Juan Chioran (Ghost/Player King/Gravedigger), Domini Blythe (Gertrude), Graham Abbey (Laertes), Marion Day (Ophelia), David Keeley (Horatio), Evan Buliung (Rosencrantz), David Kirby (Guildenstern), Thom Marriott (Fortinbras/Barnardo).
Analysis
The Stratford Festival's production of Hamlet is set in the post-Napoleonic early nineteenth century. Set design, shimmering and large-scaled, exudes an austere chill and the isolation of the title character. A looming series of eight tall arches, some of them ruinous at the top with broken iron circles, dominate the spacious Festival stage, signifying the state of Denmark as well as the ultimate breaking of the cycle of the revenge code. Stage fog swirls amid the Gothic arches as the play begins, and in spot-lit snowfall, the fearful watch enters with swaying lanterns. An eerie tone accompanies the appearance of the white-lit ghost, which disappears from Horatio and the guards in pulsing strobes.
The scene changes quickly to Claudius' 1.2 court in full light, with the forlorn Hamlet standing alone, head bowed, at stage left. Canadian television star Paul Gross portrays Hamlet as a tall, handsome young prince who thinks far too much. Pointedly, after Claudius dispatches Rosencrantz and Guildenstern and kneels to pray in 3.3, Gross's Hamlet enters and raises a sword with two hands over the King's exposed neck, but a sudden blackout signals interval: the second act continues with the same scene and situation, and Hamlet's defining words, "that would be scann'd." Once the overly thoughtful Prince exits, the guilty Claudius spins as if realizing his murderer has been near.
Gross's Hamlet begins the play in tearful grief, but only at the outset does he seem pacifistic or weak. Attired in inky cloak - a ruffled white shirt, black vest, and frock coat - he spends Act I either in tears or about to weep, with hands that tremble and a voice that cracks. Gross's thinking Hamlet frequently clutches his head with both hands and whimpers, as if too many thoughts swirl there for him to manage. When Ophelia, the last of Claudius' court to exit, turns to gaze at Hamlet from the edge of the stage, Gross doubles over and collapses. His voice quavers throughout the "too sullied flesh" soliloquy, and he tries but fails to rise to his feet. Only when Horatio arrives does Gross's Hamlet gather himself.
After Guildenstern recounts Hamlet's "crafty madness" in 3.1, Gross's Hamlet tears through a torridly paced "to be or not to be" soliloquy as if disgorging excess of thought. Ophelia arrives as a saving grace, but Hamlet becomes angered at the "at home, my Lord" deceit and jumps upon downstage steps in manic frustration. He then kneels behind Ophelia, clutches her, and assaults her with a torrent of words much like he was assaulted earlier by the ghost of his father.
The physical prowess and courage of Gross's Hamlet are never in doubt, and his violence seems not a tragic potential but a foregone conclusion delayed by intellect. When he joins the Watch in 1.4 and the ghost of his father re-appears, Hamlet extricates himself from Horatio and Marcellus - "my fate cries out" - spins free of his cloak and disarms Marcellus with desperate savagery. During 2.2, Hamlet speaks with his supposedly excellent good friends, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, and he shakes one's hand but squeezes with such ferocity that the spying "friend" collapses into a chair, and he grabs the other by the throat and drives him to his knees. Later, in 3.2, Hamlet plunges a recorder like a dagger into the back of a chair and topples it as the scene concludes in "the very witching time of night."
Except for his awe at the array of marching soldiers disappearing into ghastly upstage fog aglow with blue and white light during the 3.4 "no profit but the name" scene, Gross's Hamlet confidently commands every situation. When the Players arrive in 2.2, Hamlet teases a maturing boy actor by quavering his own voice, and unlike the blithering Polonius, he holds them rapt with his wise 3.2 acting instructions. Hamlet's mastery of situation is also evidenced in his agreeing to follow Rosencrantz and Guildenstern upstage in 4.2, then run whooping away from them downstage - "hide fox!" - and he bids goodbye to "dear mother" Claudius in 4.3 with a kiss full on the mouth. Finally, as Ophelia's gauze-wrapped body is lowered into a trap-grave during the lantern-lit 5.1 funeral before towering iron gates, Hamlet's intrusion represents a return of the formidable Prince - "this is I, Hamlet the Dane!" - rather than a simple pronouncement. Hamlet professes his love of forty thousand brothers and re-returns one of his gifts to Ophelia, dropping a length of neck-chain into her grave without comment.
Gross infuses this handsome Prince "benetted round with villanies" with stage presence, star power, and playfulness. At the conclusion of the mousetrap play, he grabs a tambourine and dances across the stage to Horatio; he threatens his spying friends with the recorder in 3.2, making them step backward with a vicious growl - "you cannot play upon me" - but in the next moment greets Polonius with a happy-go-lucky and high-pitched, "God bless you, sir"; and he crosses and uncrosses his long legs wildly in 4.2, nearly kicking the imploring Rosencrantz and Guildenstern again and again.
Gertrude is played with a chilly distance, far more concerned with her queenly existence than her motherly responsibilities. Attired in a royal blue velvet gown, she seems embarrassed by, rather than concerned with, Hamlet's melancholy, and she seems disconcerted with the pitiable Ophelia in 4.5. During the 3.4 scene within her bedchamber, she slaps her son hard across the face, is so obdurate he repeatedly lifts and slams down her lounging sofa, and then she takes 4.1 comfort in the arms of her accused husband and King.
Claudius' forcefulness underscores Gertrude's self-interest and lack of strength. Strong and confident, and attired in military fashion, Claudius bends the Queen and the court to his will. Even the brash Laertes is intimidated, making his 1.2 appeal to return to France only after Ophelia pushes him toward the new King. Ophelia is young and playful, but fragile and quick to become subdued and tentative. She steals Laertes top-hat and prances away from him in 1.3, but becomes still once Polonius arrives. She wears a verdant gown that hints at her immaturity, and her barefoot, quiet 4.5 insanity is a whispering cascade of thoughts, played in a ghostly white robe. Her hot-tempered brother vows to the blackest devil - "to hell, allegiance" - and the differences between brother and sister - her mental distraction, his drive toward revenge - seem to both be embodied in Gross's tormented Hamlet.
The dark-eyed and deep-voiced Juan Chioran plays three roles, all of them effectively. As the martial Ghost in 1.5, he grabs Hamlet by the throat - "mark me" - and drives the Prince to his knees before slipping straight down into a fog-concealed trap as if returning to Hell. As the Player King, Chioran's commanding 2.2 account of the pyrrhic victory of revenge is interrupted - "this is too long" - by the old fool Polonius, and Chioran's 5.1 grave-digging scene concludes with a long glare of recognition between him and Claudius, as if the grave-digger - and ghost - truly represent the murdered elder Hamlet.
The tragedy concludes with a quickly paced rapier duel. Gross's Hamlet lunges and takes a mock swing at frightened courtiers before he and Laertes duel with furious speed. The events - Gertrude drinking poisoned wine, Laertes intentionally wounding the Prince, Hamlet capturing Laertes' unbated and envenomed sword - all happen with matter-of-fact quickness. The lack of dramatic import upon the rapid sequence of events gives a rushing effect of inexorable fate. The bespectacled Horatio, only a bewildered spectator until now, imposingly blocks Claudius' exit once Gertrude collapses and Hamlet shouts, "treachery, seek it out!"
Once Hamlet dispatches the King with a long forced draught of poisoned wine - "follow my mother" - he dies with fated suddenness and lack of melodrama. When Fortinbras and his soldiers arrive, Horatio's tender "flights of angels" words are followed by Hamlet being carried slowly offstage by foreign militiamen, his head hanging back and down. And with an offstage, funereal cannon blast, this elegantly staged production - with its handsome celebrity Hamlet - comes to its conclusion.
Note: A version of this article was edited and published in Shakespeare Bulletin, Vol.19, No.2, Spring 2001.