Yesterday the Royal Shakespeare Company's latest version of Hamlet arrived on dvd. Because we didn't get started on it til later in the night, we had to stop halfway through and so I've been waiting all day to resume watching--I just can't wait to see how it all turns out.
I know. It's friggin' Hamlet. I have read and seen it. But oh, many many ages ago. Let's see, the last Hamlet I saw was Mel Gibson's, and I was heavily pregnant with Owen, and so I slept through all but the first few minutes. And before that, oh gosh, college I guess.
It's not that I've forgotten the ending, not really, well, not totally, I mean, I have a kind of vague recollection. . . all those bodies. . . but I had forgotten so many of the twists and turns--not forgotten per se as much as just not remembered, you know? Like when you return to a childhood place and you keep saying, "Oh, right, that's right, that's where they lived!"
But the real point is, although I do know how Hamlet ends, I don't know how this Hamlet ends. RSC productions always cause a bit of a buzz in Britain, but in this case the buzz sounded more like the roar of a chain saw rather than a bee's temperate bzzz bzzz--because the amazing David Tennant--the Tenth Doctor in Doctor Who, the man for whom I'd leave my husband and have lots of babies, hey! haven't you heard of surrogacy?--is in the leading role. And, in addition to my beloved Doctor, it's also just a really great, thought-provoking production.
And then there's another point. I hate this point.
The thing is, I've never watched Hamlet before as a, as a, umm, ya know, as a (shhh-whisper this) middle-aged woman. So here I am, sympathizing with Gertrude. Is it this production, or is it me? I'm even willing to give Claudius a chance. Just a wee bit, but still, a bit of a chance. And there's a part of me that wants to sit Hamlet down and say, "Honey, let's talk about your choices."
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