What A Piece of Work is (that) Man September 18, 2008
Posted by CamdenKiwi in : Reviews , trackbackThere is something disconcerting about seeing a very familiar TV actor on the stage. TV is a very intimate medium, in your home, watched alone or with family and a TV series can be a part of life for months or even years. The intimacy of the stage is different. The actor is right there before you, perhaps only a few feet away, but you are one of hundreds, even as it feels he is talking to you alone. You’re more aware of their physical presence, less able to see everything thats happening.
After months of waiting, and all the hype, last night I finally saw David Tennant in the RSCs production of Hamlet in Stratford upon Avon, and he is wonderful.
The royal party arrive on stage and Dr Who is standing in the corner in a well-cut suit. That’s weird. Then a miserable young man comes to life, mourning his father and appalled at his mother’s hasty remarriage. The royal party leave and Tennant sobs and rages his way through the first soliliquy (frailty thy name is woman) fetal on the floor. It’s heart breaking and the next three and a half hours pass in another world.
It’s not all painful. This company finds far more humour in the play than I’ve seen before. Polonious as the doddery old fool teased affectionately by his children, more arrogantly by Hamlet, Hamlets suspicion of Rozencrantz and Guildenstern. Tennant’s Hamlet is an irreverent student feigning madness but also reflective and selfdoubting, making good use of his trademark manic energy. It could so easily go over the top, but it never does.
Patrick Stewart is, of course, excellent. At times, he seems to anchor the stage while Tennant flies around it. Even knowing the plot, he arouses admiration, at least up to the point where he confesses the murder of Hamlet’s father. Although ruthless, he is calm and noble. His early concern for his nephew seems genuine enough.
But it is Tennant’s play. He speaks 37% of the lines (useful fact from the programme), and most of the audience are there to see him. Watching him, he constantly brings ever more meaning out of the words, with his voice, face, hands, entire body. He is Hamlet, totally and completely.
As I leave, its less with the euphoria of seeing a favourite actor than feeling the intense tragedy of the young prince.
Hamlet plays at the Courtyard Theatre in Stratford-upon-Avon until November, then transfers to London. Both seasons are completely sold out, though there are returns available on the day. If you are booking for the Courtyard, avoid the first few seats at the feet of horseshoe in the stalls. I was in D50, right beside the base of the stage, and saw a lot of backs. The actors do turn to all sides, but when they’re a little way down the thrust of the stage, those seats are behind them.
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What a wonderful experience - thank you for sharing it with us.