Hamlet

A small miracle takes place sometime in the course of a successful drama when the characters quite inexplicably become living people, and their story ceases to be a play and becomes life. The Harvard Dramatic Club production of Hamlet ends as a success; the miracle takes place--but not until rather late in a very long evening of theatre. This transformation really begins during the grave-digger scene, and reaches its climax in the duel between Hamlet and Laertes. Both scenes are entirely admirable and entirely effective.

But why does Hamlet not quite come to life until the Prince is ready to die? Part of the reason lies in Director Stephen Aaron's approach to the play. In searching for a way to present Hamlet to a modern audience, Aaron was led back to the customs of the Elizabethan stage. Eschewing most modern "conveniences," he uses no incidental music apart from that indicated in Shakespeare's text, has no trick lighting, and permits just one intermission. Even the set, which was designed by John Ratte, suggests the Globe Playhouse, since it consists of little more than two platforms connected by stairways. This setting, which is of course less complex than its Elizabethan model, presents its own problem to the director, who must compress the play's flow into two acting areas in place of the original six. Aaron's solution is remarkable for its ingenuity. He has contrived to inject a great, though not excessive, amount of movement into each scene, and the transitions from one to the next are, on the whole, smooth and easy to follow. This movement, together with Ann Hollander's superb costumes, must proivde all the visual effect of the production.

In theory, the director's approach to the play is impressive, largely for its ambition. And it is ambitious, because it demands much from the actors. They must speak Shakespeare's lines with more than usual clarity so that the poet's imagery may work its intended effect on the audience and replace the exterior picture of a modern set. Added to that, of course, are the difficulties which the dimensions of the play itself presents to any group of actors.

The performers acquit themselves with varying degrees of success. Colgate Salsbury, in the mountainous title role, takes a rather original approach to his part. His Hamlet is not so much a melancholy Dane as strong hero caught in an overwhelming situation. This helps make fast-moving parts of the play more striking but tends to weaken the inward-turning soliloquies. Hamlet's towering intellect comes through, but the troubled depths behind it are not always apparent.

Among the other principals, the most engaging are Edith Iselin, as Ophelia, and Richard Smithies, as Polonius. Miss Iselin plays Ophelia with a youthful lightness that is often quite charming in its novelty. If we don't usually think of Ophelia as a young girl, Miss Iselin shows that she can be. As for Smithies, he gives what is probably his best performance to date. His Polonius is restrained but generally pleasant. Due in large part to their work and that of Marc Brugnoni, in the role of the first grave-digger, the comicscenes are perhaps the most effective part of the production.

But with some--though not all--of the other major roles, the difficulties of the play reassert themselves. Bryan Falk's Claudius appears unnecessarily stiff. Certainly the King should be regal, but that need not restrict the actor who portrays him to the single tone level and rate of delivery. Somewhat the same is true of Robert Jordan, in the part of Laertes. He tends to speak too fast to let his lines be readily understood. Lisa Rosenfarb, the Queen, happily avoids these mistakes. She speaks poetry perhaps better than anybody else in the cast. But in the other aspects of performance, John Fenn, as Horatio, surpasses her as well as most of the other actors. He gives Horatio just the right amount of soldier's dignity and power.

Hamlet, to be sure, is a hard play despite its greatness--hard both for the actors and the audience. Stephen Aaron, in presenting a production which, by modern standards at least, is stripped down to its very essentials has placed a large burden on both the cast and the audience. Was he right to do so? The last sections of the play largely justify his approach. As for the rest, his application of theory there shows up as an act of courage which is itself deserves no mean amount of praise.