Hamlet: The PostReview

Princely 'Hamlet'
Muscular and Sharp Production Is True to the Bard

By Nelson Pressley
Washington Post Staff Writer
Tuesday, November 13, 2001; Page C01

Radical interpretations and quirky angles can be fun when staging Shakespeare, but Australian director Gale Edwards isn't
having any of it in her powerful, straightforward production of "Hamlet," which opened last night at the Shakespeare
Theatre. The entrance of the ghost of Hamlet's murdered father, a bulky, impressive-looking warrior striding slowly though a
thunderstorm, quickly convinces you that Edwards is out to create a show with real magnitude. And though set designer Peter
England's curved, half-fallen, domino-shaped slabs are tall as houses, Edwards sees to it that the true source of the show's
epic scale -- and the source of the production's considerable dramatic appeal -- is sharp, muscular acting.

"Hamlet" is a revenge tragedy deliciously slowed down by thought. There is a murder to be avenged, which is why the ghost
shows up. But rather than lunging toward his guilty uncle Claudius (who was tastelessly quick to marry Hamlet's widowed
mother, Gertrude), Hamlet thinks about it. Shakespeare gives the gloomy prince various spurs goading him toward action,
and the play consists of his ever-fascinating, unorthodox reactions to the prompts. He broods, plots, reconsiders, play-acts,
hesitates, then kills the wrong man, old Polonius. Of course Polonius's son, Laertes, has fewer qualms about following the
dictates of revenge.

Edwards doesn't try to jazz up any of this with surprising psychological readings or flashy bits of style, though you may
briefly wonder which way things are headed when Ted van Griethuysen, as Claudius, shows up looking a little like a sci-fi
villain (shaved head, silver cape). The entire court wears the sort of greatcoats that have come to denote timelessness on the
stage; costume designer Murell Horton issues them in both black and gray. As Hamlet, Wallace Acton leaves his black coat
behind after meeting the ghost, stripping down to basic black pants and a white poet blouse.

Not all actors bring a princely air to Hamlet; Acton does. Blond and gaunt-cheeked, Acton looks a little like Sting, and he
plays the character as a bit of an emotional wreck early on. Acton miserably crumples to the floor during Hamlet's first
soliloquy, and his kiss with Sybil Lines's Gertrude (who later brushes Laertes' sister, Ophelia, near the groin as she murmurs
about Hamlet's happiness) lasts just long enough to be certifiably creepy.

But Acton's Hamlet isn't distinctly Oedipal, nor does Edwards rein him in with any other conceits or angles, and that turns
out to be a virtue. Acton leads with his intelligence, which is what makes the rest of the role's colors possible; Hamlet gets
more about what's going on than everyone else, and tries out more approaches. Acton explores the infinite variety of
Hamlet's imagination, and the result is wonderfully direct -- a terribly bright young nobleman puzzling his way, often
painfully, through a crisis.

Van Griethuysen is sly and faintly repellent as Claudius, and he does spectacular things with body language; the physical
distance between Claudius and Hamlet is always illuminating here. Edwards's staging is consistently revealing in that way,
starting with Acton's initial appearance above and apart from the rest of the court, standing on a heap of the giant fallen (and
decaying) dominoes and climaxing with the final sword fight, in which Hamlet and his friend Horatio stand arrayed against
the entire court.

Though the staging is simple, there are compelling visual moments. The traveling actors look vaguely Victorian in long
colorful scarves -- the Player King (subtly acted by Edward Gero) even has a top hat and a cape -- and there is something
painterly about their appearance as they gather quietly and listen like thieves. And the opening storm scene, with rain pelting
the stage and cold blue-gray light barely illuminating the giant slabs, sets a grandly mysterious mood that never wholly lets
up.

David Sabin gives a warm performance as Polonius, substituting affection and pride for what is usually played as
foolishness. Nicole Lowrance is an appealing Ophelia, and her mad scene comes off less like incoherent insanity than as the
most powerfully rendered grief in a grief-riddled play. Bo Foxworth strikes the same sort of note as Ophelia's brother,
Laertes, leaping desperately into Ophelia's grave, and when Acton joins in, Hamlet and Laertes seem like two mourning
boys.

The acting is stout from top to bottom, and despite its familiarity the story engrosses from the moment the ghost strides out of
the shadows looking for Hamlet. The common experience with Shakespeare these days is to come out marveling at the
flexibility of the old scripts; you can seemingly do anything with them. Edwards's show proves that playing it straight, with
passion and skill, works awfully well, too.

Hamlet, by William Shakespeare. Directed by Gale Edwards. Lights, Mark McCullough; composer, Adam Wernick;
sound design, Martin Desjardins. Approximately 3 hours 15 minutes. Through Jan. 6 at the Shakespeare Theatre, 450
Seventh St. NW. Call 202-547-1122.