Wednesday, May 9, 2012

John Gielgud's Hamlet (1964)


Unlike the previous first three Hamlets I watched, where either the visuals or the setting were key elements of the film, this one is about as visually stark as it gets.  It was shot on an essentially empty stage with actors in every day clothes and terrible film quality.  It was a live performance as well, so unlike an ordinary film, it was just recorded straight through, and you can hear the audience laughing, clapping and coughing. 

With nothing else to focus on, everything came down to the actors’ performances: if they were good, it would have been as spectacular a success as Trevor Nunn’s similarly minimalist Macbeth, but if they were bad, it would have been a very painful three hours.  While I thought a lot of the cast was fairly mediocre, two stars, Richard Burton and Hume Cronyn, made this a joy to watch.  

The only issue I had with the low-budget production was the film quality.  I wasn’t bothered by the minimalist design; I find simple is often better than overblown, and I think it worked well here.  However, the film quality was really a problem, because it was often difficult to distinguish details that are essential to a nuanced performance.  When an actor’s face is just a white smudge, a lot of information is lost, and that happened far too often in this film.  Sometimes an actor would be entirely off camera when he spoke, or no details at all would be visible when nuance was really necessary. 

The only visually striking image was the staging of the Ghost.  It fit with the rest of the no-bells-and-whistles production, being simple and cheap, but I thought it was quite effective. The actors faced out towards the crowd to address the Ghost, and all that was seen by the audience was a huge shadow on the wall behind them.  I thought it was subtle and unnerving in just the right way, but kept with the low-budget, minimalist approach used in the rest of the play.  However, that was really the one moment of visual appeal, and everything else was grainy and minimalist.  

Despite the poor film quality and lack of visual appeal, I still think this is definitely worth watching because of two stellar performances. 

Hume Cronyn was simply the best Polonius I’ve ever seen, and won a very deserved Tony Award for his performance.  He managed to be funny, and a serious character, two qualities many actors seem to think is a “one or the other” deal when they play the part.  Being genuinely funny as Polonius is also difficult: when the punch line is that a character is tedious, it often ends up being, well, tedious.  He made his wordiness genuinely funny, but avoided being a clown by showing Polonius as a complex character.  He was loving and close with both Laertes and Ophelia, chiding them, but also comforting them.  Most of the Hamlets I’ve seen show Ophelia not liking her father very much, but Linda Marsh’s Ophelia trusted and loved him, and he in turn was tender and loving towards her. He was smart enough to know when he was being mocked by Hamlet, and his Polonius was politically clever without being manipulative and cruel. When he had to explain his own role in preventing Ophelia from seeing Hamlet, he recognized that he was in dangerous territory and tried to step carefully.  He genuinely believed that Hamlet must be in love with his daughter, and his attempts to figure out what Hamlet’s problem was didn’t come off as self-serving.  He managed to be funny, complex and even a little bit likeable.  For the first time ever, I felt a bit of sadness when he was killed. 

His humor was made all the better when he was on stage with Richard Burton.  They had spectacular chemistry with each other, resulting in one of the funniest Hamlets I’ve seen.  His genuine belief in his theory of Hamlet’s madness paired perfectly with Burton’s sarcastic, dry wit. 

There was more to Burton’s humor than wittiness, however.  He used his humor to distract himself from his otherwise black thoughts.  It was a sort of defense mechanism: when you want to cry you laugh instead.  He could occupy his time with mocking Polonius or Osric and avoid thinking about what he had to.  He’d smile and mock and enjoy running circles around them, and then fall into nerves, anxiety and self-doubt as soon as they left.  Even as he was dying, he forced a last laugh before “The rest is silence.” 

Burton’s Hamlet was masculine, loud and sarcastic.  He had an athletic energy about him, and a strong alpha-male presence.  He was simply in charge whenever he walked on stage, and the other men became nervous little boys in front of him.  More than his possible madness, his social power seemed to be the real reason why Claudius felt so threatened by him.   Robert Milli’s Horatio, who was socially dominant in the first scene with Bernardo and Marcellus, was instantly subordinate to Burton, and their relationship was more like a master-servant relationship than a friendship of equals.  Rosencrantz and Gildenstern clearly felt threatened by him throughout, and drew their swords to threaten him when trying to find where he’d hidden Polonius.  Despite the swords, Hamlet was still in control and he knew it.  He just sauntered carelessly around them and wasn’t in the least bit threatened.  Though he was welcoming and excited about the players, he never seemed like one of them; he was always a higher authority appreciating and guiding their art.  He was so much the alpha male that after getting injured in the fight, to get Laertes’s sword he literally just grabbed it out of his hand with no resistance from Laertes. 

Despite this power he had over the other men, with the women he was extraordinarily gentle.  He yelled at both of them, but was never violent, and with Gertrude especially, he was lovingly tender.  He began the play overwhelmed with fury at her, but after venting it all, he became the image of a loving son.  The only time he showed any emotion regarding his own death was when he gave Gertrude a final hug on the line “Wretched Queen, adieu.”  His relationship with Ophelia before the start of the play was clearly both tender and intimate, and though he was angry with her, he was never cruel or violent.  I thought his tenderness with the women was good, and gave him some much-needed balance.  Without it, he would have been a Hamlet who dominated all the men and abused all the women, and he would have come off as just too overpowering. 

Fortunately, Cronyn and Burton were great, because the rest of the cast was fairly mediocre.  Eileen Herlie was excellent in Olivier’s Hamlet, but here her Gertrude felt a lot flatter and less interesting.  Perhaps the low-quality filming lost the nuance in her performance.  She wasn’t bad, but she wasn’t anything exciting either.   Alfred Drake’s Claudius was much more disappointing.  He barely made an impression at all.  His lack of personality was even more marked in contrast to the strength of Burton’s presence, but I think he would have been flat and dull next to any Hamlet.  Sure, he had a “Hello, I’m Evil” moustache, but I wasn’t buying it.  To be honest, when he wasn’t speaking, I kept on forgetting which one of the guys on stage was Claudius.  Similarly, Linda Marsh’s Ophelia didn’t make much of an impression at all.  She was flat and dull, and her mad scenes felt contrived and random. 

With a weak Claudius and a weak Ophelia, the fourth act dragged on for a very long time with nothing particularly interesting happening. Without either Burton or Cronyn on stage, everything seemed to grind to a halt.  When Burton showed up again in the gravedigger scene, the play came to life, and the fifth act seemed to fly by in comparison.  Paired with John Cullum’s very worthy Laertes, the graveyard scene and final scene were poignant rather than melodramatic and ended the play on a high note after its significant dip during the fourth act. 

This Hamlet would be worth watching for Burton or Cronyn alone, but the pair of them made it an entertaining and nuanced production despite its other faults.  

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