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"Let not a mother lose her prayers..."

Hamlet (2000)
directed by Michael Almereyda, starring Ethan Hawke
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© 2000 John Murphy

Hardcore Shakespeare traditionalists who insist on “purity” of interpretation (i.e. a whole lot of tights and prepubescent boys in drag) miss the essential genius of the Bard’s plays. The reason Shakespeare endures 400 years after his death is his ability to transcend the boundaries of time, geography, and culture by addressing in his work the most universal concerns of humanity.   

Michael Almereyda, director of the most recent film adaptation of Shakespeare’s indelible play, “Hamlet,” possesses a firm grasp of this concept. The action of the play has been updated to modern Manhatten, where revenge, corporate espionage, greed, betrayal, and lust are not unfamiliar motivations behind day-to-day human activity. Almereyda avoids the seductive pitfall of using the contemporary setting as a crutch for making the play more “accessible;” rather he explores original ways to emphasize the timelessness of the words through the updated environment. Modern technology is subtly incorporated into the action; nowhere does Almereyda appear to be forcing an agenda onto the play that is not concomitant with the play’s inherent message. There are some self-aware bits of post-modern cleverness, the most breathtaking being when the “to be or not be” soliloquy is staged in the “Action” aisle of a Blockbuster Video, as scenes of violence and mayhem play on the myriad television screens behind Hamlet.             

However, the best illustration of the success of Almereyda’s technique is, as it should be, the performance of Ethan Hawke as Hamlet. At first glance, Ethan Hawke makes for a listless, tired Hamlet, but his choices reveal themselves to be cleverer than originally anticipated. Hawke presents “the melancholy Dane” as a thoroughly modern young man, indistinguishable from any beatnik wannabe poet/musician/artist found decorating campus coffeehouses around the globe. His black wardrobe is as much a fashion statement as a symbol of mourning, and when the time comes for “the play-within-the-play,” it is brilliantly presented as an arty short film (directed by Hamlet, naturally) in the vein of Warhol’s misguided forays into cinema. Hawke turns Hamlet’s ennui into a posture; he is seen watching footage of James Dean (“studying” would probably be a more accurate description), and the correlation is intentional. Hamlet relishes his own depression, stews in a pot of solipsistic self-pity. This provides motivation for his otherwise disturbingly selfish treatment of Ophelia, for example. Hamlet is a spoiled child who resents his privileged status (his best friend, Horatio is obviously not of similar financial means), but still often slips into a pattern of self-important behavior, at the expense of others.

The spot-on quality of Hawke’s interpretation is given ample support from an ensemble of well-seasoned Shakespearean performers, as well as a few perfectly cast newcomers. The standout from among the supporting cast is, without question, Kyle MacLachlan as Claudius.  Though his role is substantially abridged from the original text, MacLachlan breathes fire into Claudius, playing him as an oily, honey-tongued executive who appears to have emerged from the womb sporting a smart Armani three-piece. MacLachlan is obviously comfortable with the notoriously tricky Shakespeare vernacular: his line readings sound not only natural, but (an even greater achievement) as though he had just thought of them. 

There isn’t a bad apple in the rest of the cast, and all seem in synch with Almereyda’s vision. The comic timing of Bill Murray is utilized to great effect in his performance as Polonius, and Julia Stiles injects unexpected pathos into the role of Ophelia. The focus remains throughout the film on the acting, not on the set decoration or a hip soundtrack. Baz Luhrmann’s William Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet was a truly commendable effort, but was also cripplingly flawed and occasionally incoherent. Luhrmann’s actors seemed lost in a sea of Radiohead tunes and flashy camera moves and operatic scenic design, and appeared sometimes as confused as the audience. Almereyda, by contrast, elicits believable, naturalistic performances from a game troupe of actors and never allows the modern setting to overwhelm or override the meaning of Shakespeare’s words. 

Traditionalists sitting in their tweed suits in their armchairs in their libraries can put this in their pipes and smoke it. Almereyda has crafted one of the best, most faithful adaptations of Shakespeare of recent memory, minus the tights and prepubescent boys.