Summary 
Modernized to 1910, a militaristic political environment at Christmas time. Strong portrayals of all major characters, especially Hamlet, with fresh insights into Claudius, Polonius and Ophelia. Sharply focused, tightly controlled generational drama, sparsely staged but brimming with raw emotion. A powerful conclusion.
Design
Directed by Adrian Noble. Designed by Santo Loquasto. Lights by Michael Walton. Sound by Todd Charlton. Music by Claudio Vena. Fights by John Stead. Choreographed by Nicola Pantin.
Cast
Ben Carlson (Hamlet), Scott Wentworth (Claudius), Maria Ricossa (Gertrude), Geraint Wyn Davies (Polonius), Adrienne Gould (Ophelia), Bruce Godfree (Laertes), James Blendick (Ghost), Tom Rooney (Horatio), Victor Ertmanis (Player King), David Leyshon (Rosencrantz), Patrick McManus (Guildenstern).
Analysis
Director Adrian Noble sets this Hamlet in 1910, with militaristic costuming stylistic of both Scandinavia and Edwardian England. The watch, attired in dark wool longcoats and fur hats, wield rifles, sabers and lanterns, and seem genuinely chilled in the atmospheric fog. With maritime sound effects - sea birds, distant bells, surf, and whistling wind - the stage rolls with fog, lit like an appropriately eerie black-and-white ghost story. The watch emerge from a center stage trap, already frightened of the ghost they fear will reappear as warlike political turmoil brews with Norway re-claiming lands lost to the now-deceased elder Hamlet. The political and paranormal context is quickly and expertly evoked, the trembling watch adding to the atmospherics with their lanterns as well as with flashlights. When the Ghost King suddenly appears backlit within a cloud of fog far upstage, it draws its sword against the watch and they flee in abject terror.
Noble evokes a grim and gloomy Denmark, poisoned and dangerous with "something rotten," and in his Stratford debut, Ben Carlson embodies the nation's savior as a virile and intelligent hero. Carlson's Hamlet seems to have a similarly perturb'd spirit as his father, and he stands tall with a dignified air, stern of expression and eloquent in speech, a refined university scholar and imposing not-so-young man. His life already changed by the death of his father, the appearance of the ghost changes everything for Hamlet yet again. He stiffly kneels, suddenly lacking confidence, and after the imposing Ghost makes him take up a literally avenging sword, the thrice repeated booming demand - "Swear!" - is spotlit on separate sections of the stage. Carlson's Hamlet reels, falling and writhing upon the stage and contorting as he realizes that life as he has known it has ended, and that more bloodshed and violence are not only inevitable, but imminent.
Claudius' court, with its decorated Christmas tree upstage and a live chamber quartet - violin, oboe, piano, drum and cymbal - seems appropriately small on the dark expanse of the diamond-shaped Festival stage, their revelry like a vain attempt to stave off the howling darkness just beyond the heavy wooden doors. The quartet plays while Claudius and Gertrude entertain at a holiday party that doubles as a wedding celebration, sipping champagne and dancing elegantly. When Carlson's Hamlet, dressed head to toe in black and glowering at everyone, ascends the downstage steps to enter the scene, he seems as if an element of the gloomy darkness outside. Claudius is insightfully portrayed by Scott Wentworth as a study in contrasts: a bully fearful of being exposed, both an assassin and the newly crowned King, in love with his bride but aware she was until recently his sister-in-law. Wentworth's Claudius, quite like Hamlet himself, reacts in fits and starts, urgent but suddenly introspective, praying but insincere, and to Wentworth's credit, his character seems to loathe himself but cannot help but steep himself further in blood. Wentworth, physical and brooding, confronts Carlson's Hamlet face to face, and his "'tis unmanly grief" remark is a challenge as well as a condemnation. He seems to delight in his trophy-wife Gertrude - at one point she feeds him grapes - and after the murder of Polonius and the search for his corpse, Wentworth's Claudius fells Hamlet with a punch to the midsection, although Carlson's Hamlet responds by rising and kissing Claudius full on the mouth. Claudius reveals his ability to coldly calculate later, when he matter-of-factly plots with Laertes the poisoning at the duel: he and Laertes discuss their plan while casually shooting pool upon a mammoth billiards table.
Wentworth's dominating Claudius seems to have Gertrude in his shadow, and as played, she seems to accept (if not revel in) the limited role of arm-candy trophy wife. Regal in manner and sensual in appearance, Gertrude appears as if she would rather all the troubles and questions to simply go away rather than seek resolutions and answers. Pointedly, her most emotional moment is not when she slaps Hamlet in her chamber and he throws her down on her sofa, but moments later, when she rejects a kiss from Wentworth's Claudius and rushes from the stage.
Polonius and Ophelia, equally as effective in an already strongly-acted production, are directed by Noble with fresh urgency. An amiable Polonius is far from comic relief or a forgetful old man. He sits shoulder to shoulder with Ophelia to play a charming duet on a stage-left piano - she halting suddenly at the mention of Hamlet - then similarly sits beside Laertes to offer advice - as opposed to give instruction or platitude - and when he finishes, Ophelia concludes her brief recital and embraces them both from behind. Polonius' warm sense of humor provides a contrast to the bombastic sarcasm from Hamlet. Ophelia, played with fragile innocence by Adrienne Gould - more naïve and protected than child-like or simple, despite the girlish dolls in her bed chamber - seems to skip across the stage with a constant smile. She becomes subdued with parental obedience and a broken heart, and she seems more emotionally crushed than just overwhelmed, already approaching the brink of insanity with her sudden dark brooding. Gould's Ophelia, devastated first by the loss of Hamlet then by the death of Polonius, seems struck to the core, but without anger. Profoundly sad, she is ignored by Gertrude - who quite characteristically refuses to speak with her and simply walks away - and begins to sing and play the piano. Joined briefly by Claudius at the piano, she pounds out a harsh series of notes, then empties the box of mementos from Hamlet, revealing just a box of ashes, the mementos apparently all burned. Gould's heartrending "my brother shall know of this" seems a condemnation of Hamlet, both for taking back his love and accidentally killing her father. Gould portrays Ophelia, dark-eyed and somnambulistic, with a welcome sense of realistic heartbreak rather than histrionic bursts of insanity. Later, the funeral march brings her coffin onstage in a light night-time snowfall - the pallbearers all in dark wool coats, snow boots, and furry hats - and first Laertes then Hamlet leap into the grave for a final embrace.
Carlson, who played the same role for Chicago Shakespeare Theater in 2006, also directed by a well-pedigreed English director (Terry Hands), here has more to work with, and his performance, albeit similar, has more resonance. With a stronger Ophelia, Polonius, and Claudius, Carlson's Hamlet is revealed in human and dramatic terms onstage rather than just via intelligent but heartfelt soliloquy. He delivers the iconic "to be or not to be" passages from downstage while Ophelia reads his love letters upstage, and when he notices movement behind the arras, he stares deeply into her frightened eyes ("O lies!") then loses his temper, tearing up the love letters and flinging the box before grabbing Ophelia by the throat and warning her, "all but one shall live." Spied on from doorways by a sinister and mysterious man in a trench coat and a fedora, Carlson's Hamlet embraces the players when they arrive on a big rolling wagon of colorful costumes, but he spins to challenge the audience directly - "am I a coward?" - before pushing past Polonius to prepare The Murder of Gonzago. After the shadow play, he uses a player's light standard to capture Wentworth's Claudius in the glaring accusation of a spotlight. Noble evokes Hamlet's banishment to England with characteristically understated ingenuity: as the upstage curtains close, stage fog begins to rise, the sound effects of lapping water can be heard, and an oil lamp sways gently back and forth as if aboard ship. A rather late interval ("my thoughts be bloody") is signaled when Carlson's Hamlet, seen moments earlier in silhouette raising his sword against Claudius, turns his back and walks off into the stage fog.
Noble, also making his Stratford debut, was artistic director at Royal Shakespeare Company from 1991-2001, and here he provides a stealthy pace to an elegant and uncluttered - if predominantly dark and bleak - production. With just a few awkward moments - the watch inexplicably shouting their lines in unison, the Ghost appearing in Gertrude's bed chamber in a flashy white business suit - the production boasts memorable scenes: Hamlet paying the Players with all of his own cash, thrusting it into their hands because he knows he will not survive much longer for it to be of use; Rosencrantz and Guildenstern popping up with sanctimonious supposed friendship behind the soldiers marching off to war; Polonius pulling down the arras in his death throes; a flashlights-in-darkness search for Hamlet following Polonius' murder. With its insightful condemnation of elders corrupting the next generation, Noble's Hamlet excels behind Carlson's strong lead performance, with the stern Dane returning from England a bit more resolved and calm, not defeated but resigned to his fate. During the climactic duel, Carlson's Hamlet shows star-power fury, kicking over a chair and fencing with fierce athleticism. In a stirring final moment, he pours poisoned wine gushing over the face of Wentworth's overwhelmed Claudius, then - as a priest sadly crosses himself - he collapses and lies in his friend's arms for the final poignant remark: "the rest is silence." Carlson's memorable Hamlet shines: intelligent, regal, and profoundly tragic.