Hamlet, at the Barbican with Benedict, part 2

I'm so glad so many of you enjoyed the first part of my review of Hamlet. Thanks for letting me know!

Part 2

Now, recognizing that Ophelia is not written as the most appealing character, I found myself hoping that Siân Brooke would, in some way, redeem her. Would make me sympathetic to Ophelia's withering, whiny anxiety which ultimately does her in.

Brooke did not do this. In fact, I found her Ophelia so irritating that I kept wishing she'd drown herself sooner rather than later. One must wait until sometime post-intermission for her to throw in the towel on life. 

Brooke's voice is both trembling and somewhat nasal, and her body language and gait seem affected rather than remotely true. At times she's dressed like some sort of Victorian and at others, in a cardigan and capris, you wonder if she's just jumped from a J.Crew catalog. Her role is fairly limited in this production, and for that I was grateful.

The wonderful Ciarán Hinds played Claudius, often well but inconsistently. His primary soliloquies in the first half were excellent, but his energy in the role seemed to wax and wane. I wasn't sure if that was his doing or a directorial misstep, but in either case felt he needed to maintain and emote a greater sense of murderous treachery as the end of the play neared.

The men playing Polonius, Laertes and Horatio did a fine job as did Anastasia Hille who gave us a wonderful Gertrude. 

the Hamlet stage in the second half

One of the most under-reported, impressive and exciting elements of this Hamlet is the stage. The set designer is utterly brilliant, and each alteration and the myriad uses of the main decor -walls, the staircase and balcony, the main hallway, the piano- added tremendously to the overall experience of the performance.

My sister subtly swiped this picture as we were leaving the theatre. In it you can see the enormous mounds and slides of rocks and pebbles that depict the utter destruction the second half marches toward. Ophelia marches barefoot down the dark hall, as if called to the light at the end. She turns there, and we know that the river awaits.

Hamlet and Laertes duel in the middle of the stage, Gertrude dies on front stage left and Cladius at the bottom of the grand staircase.

The whole stage is used all the time, and the lighting, colors and decor are all exceptionally well considered and executed. 

Turner's Hamlet isn't perfect. Though we were rapt for the entire first half -which is really quite something given that it runs for nearly two hours- both my sister and I felt the momentum the actors had gained dissipated during intermission and never fully returned. It made us wish we'd all powered straight through. And I do so wish Claudius had seemed more menacing and Ophelia more likeable.

All that said, it was a theatrical experience of a lifetime, and I remain thrilled that I was here. 

At the gift shop after the curtain closed, the cashier said she'd heard Benedict would be signing autographs outside the Silk Street stage door. My sister and I literally paid and ran, hoofing it to fan line in our shirts and heels. We saw Ciarán Hinds not two feet from us and Anastasia Hille just further than that.

And then the grand master emerged, and I was not six feet from him and I saw his hair and immediately said, "It's Benedict. Just look at that marvelous hair." 

That's all I got but it'll do me.

benedict's hair is just in there

Hamlet, at the Barbican with Benedict at the helm: Part 1

As y'all probably know, I have a full-fledged, adult woman crush on Benedict Cumberbatch. Yes, I think he can wear a suit like no one else, is full of class in a way too rare today, and has hauntingly sexy eyes. He plays slightly-mad genius like it's his job but is as capable with comedic wonk and suave intelligentsia. He is the perfect Sherlock. I also think he'd be a fucking blast to hang at pub with. He is good-hearted and a feminist whilst also hard-working, well-educated and refreshingly, appealingly understated. In short, he seems damn near perfect, and so my tickets to last-night's showing of Hamlet were treasures to me like few others. 

It is really something to see magnificent theater firsthand. To see a person you feel you have some sense of transform so completely as if to disappear, birthing another character or being whom you get to know for just a little while.

Julia Roberts was really fantastic in Pretty Woman but since has been, for the most part, Julia Roberts playing someone else. I always feel like I'm watching Julia Roberts try to pull the wool over my eyes by donning a good costume. I am never tricked. 

Daniel Day-Lewis, on the other hand, is never Daniel Day-Lewis. He is always Cecil or Abe or Christy or Tomas. 

I do feel that Benedict has, despite his singular looks, the ability to change as completely. To transmogrify, really. He is a brilliant, perhaps drug-addled sociopathic detective. He is a maybe-gay intelligence agent and a wildly uncomfortable man in love with his half-sister. He is, with slightly more of a stretch, the enigmatic founder of WikiLeaks, and now, with no stretch at all, he is a Danish prince.

And so, in long form short, a review.

It should be admitted now that I am not a fan of Shakespeare. Yes, I loved Franco Zeffirelli's 1968 film production of Romeo and Juliet. Olivia Hussey, Leonard Whiting and Milo O'Shea were perfectly cast and the movie has stayed with me clearly through today, even though I first saw it many years ago. I've seen it many times since but not in ages. 

Shakespeare's insults are unsurpassably brilliant, and more linguistic tidbits than I'll ever really know were born by his pen, but his works are somewhat an effort for me and long-winded ones at that. A fault that may be, but it's the truth.

I made this pilgrimage to London and the Barbican and Hamlet for one reason only: Benedict.

The Barbican Centre is an odd place. It's like Star Wars met a Communist-era architect and they joined hands with Kafka and planned a theatre. Lots of concrete and elusive elevators and almost zero helpful signage. It's huge and yet can feel too small. Our row of seats, for example, sat only six, and we were ushered through a narrow wooden door that seemed crafted from a thick wood plank and that sealed shut behind us. As if we were on a submarine.

The stage is enormous: deep, tall, wide. Impressive and it leaves much room for real exploration of it. It was fronted by weirdly-70s gold lamé sheets. I have no idea what they're actually constructed of, but they lent a real disco vibe to the already conflicted aesthetic.

view from my seat of the stage, still covered by the curtain

Lyndsey Turner, director of this production of Hamlet (and just the third female recipient of the Lawrence Olivier award), had such a spectacular and fresh vision for this show. As you may have heard, the "To be, or not to be..." soliloquy was initially moved to the open of the play; by last night's performance, it had been moved back to Act III. Wherever it was, it worked. The willingness to move these famed lines is brave, and even though the change didn't stick, it still serves to highlight all the modernization, shifts and reinterpretations Turner ventured to make. 

Though many characters dressed in costumes reflective of old-school Danish royalty, Hamlet's outfits (and those of his peers: Ophelia, Horatio and such) were current: hoodies, backpacks, sneakers. It didn't distract at all but rather helped bring the story, still so obviously of another time, to an easier understanding via the present. An angsty prince in modern attire is, perhaps, even more accessible than he might be when buttoned behind uniforms, crests, epaulets and the like. 

Indeed, I found Cumberbatch's Hamlet to be totally understandable. He is angry, betrayed, grossed out and grief-stricken. He's scared and shocked and desperate to exact revenge. This Hamlet never struck me as whiny or spoiled; no, he seemed to understand himself well. To be cognizant of the "inky cloak" that weighted his shoulders too often and why. The burden not only of this understanding but also of the realization that "if one doesn't know what follows death, there is a chance that the unknown is worse than life was" is tremendous, and Cumberbatch negotiated that vexation beautifully.

If you've only seen Benedict in films, you might not know what a talented comedic actor he is. He's downright hilarious at times: quick, obviously very smart, willing to play the fool, willing to be silly and enjoy it. And he ably teased out, as Hamlet, the many instances in which madness is funny. In which the only thing that can tame grief is finding levity in the situation that's caused it. 

We laughed out loud many times during the show, and these moments were real snatches of relief during an otherwise intense few hours. 

It must also be said that Benedict expends huge amounts of mental and physical energy during the play, and as he walked offstage after the last ovation and bow, I could only imagine his exhaustion. I believe he must have also been exhilarated by the experience, of acting such a vaunted role in front of sell-out crowds on the London stage. In concert, the fatigue and thrill must wear after a while and when the run ends in late October, I hope he can catch some rest.

Ok, I must get to bed, so Part 2 tomorrow, but as a teaser, I'll let you know that I waited my the stage exit and saw...Benedict's hair!!!!!!!!!

Harry Potter and the Warner Brothers Studio Tour, London

It must have been when Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince (#6) was released that T and I gave up trying to share a copy and instead each bought our own. That tactic continued through #7, HP and the Deathly Hallows, and I very clearly remember reading side-by-side in bed, both our noses buried in our respective books, flying through the pages as fast our eyes and brains could carry us. It was thrilling: the story; the fanciful shared flight; the total immersion in a great tale.

When I closed the back cover of the Deathly Hallows, I did so with real sadness. The epilogue was terrible and unnecessary, so certainly I mourned that rare misstep by Rowling, but most of my grief was because there was no more Harry Potter to be read. My maiden voyage with the series was finally over, and I considered that fact fairly awful.

The films, excepting number 4 (the Goblet of Fire which certainly deserved and needed the two-part treatment granted the Deathly Hallows, and was quite miscast) were marvelous and have provided repeat succor. David Yates really finished things off with a directorial bang; films 5, 6 and both parts of 7 were masterfully executed.

Jack was ensorcelled by Harry Potter when he started book 1 several years ago. We told him that as he finished each book, we'd all watch that movie together. (That means that second child Oliver has seen all the movies despite being only halfway through having book 1 read aloud to him. Alas.) J took a hiatus after book 6 but became re-energized early this summer when London started looming, so we encouraged him to read HP 7 so that we could watch the movie before heading here. He finished it a couple weeks ago and was as crushed as I was when he finished. To my delight, he immediately started reading the series again.

 All of us got to come full circle on our Harry Potter fandom yesterday when we trekked out to the Warner Brothers studio where much of each film was shot. There you tour many of the original sets, see thousands of original props, learn about the make-up and costume creations, see the blueprints and variously scaled models of Hogwarts, Hogsmeade, etc, and also about how the creatures and other magical beings were constructed and filmed.

out front!

It was really an outstanding place that in no way disappointed; I absolutely had as much fun as the kids did. The attention to detail was inspiring: 17,000 wooden wand boxes labelled with hand-written notes; 400 place settings at the students' tables in the Great Hall whose real stone floor added to the grandeur of the set; various animatronic items that made magic come alive. In this case I think pictures say it all, so here you go. 

Harry Potter fans: what do y'all recognize? 

One of my favorite parts of the experience was the enormous range of people there. There were just as many teens as younger children, and adults of all ages were there with their families but also on their own. A number of people were dressed in costume. I heard at least six different languages being spoken and am certain there were many more in the (very well-managed) crowd.

What all that really proves is that Rowling touched a representative sample of everyone with Harry Potter. The series' demonstrations of kindness, hard work, loyalty and courage; portrayal of good and evil and the battle between them; honest take on fairness and justice as something that should be striven for but is often elusive in the real world; respectful treatment of children and the very real capabilities they possess; belief in the power of progressive education; and the wish so many of us have for magic to be real are appealing on multiple levels and in various ways. They are universal themes or goals that we can all understand and desire.

Everyone at the studio was a big fan having fun in the unabashed way children do. At the green screen station where you can "fly" on a broom and "drive" the blue Ford Anglia that Harry and Ron crash into the Whomping Willow, I donned robes (Gryffindor, naturally! The kids chose Slytherin- what?!)  and hopped on that broom as quickly as did the kids. It was such a blast.

Hilariously, Oliver wore a green shirt that exactly matched the green screen color and so on the screen looked invisible except for his head and hands. He said, "It's like I'm wearing the invisibility cloak." The people in line were laughing hysterically!

Tips for if you visit:

Buy your tickets well in advance and get to the studio early. Kids under 4 are free though I don't think this is a great venue for such little ones, and various packages are available. We bought the family package.

The tour is mostly self-guided though you can rent (~£4.99) an audio component for extra information. Tom really enjoyed all he learned via his. The boys and I just roamed and took in plenty that way. We spent about four hours total from lobby back to lobby.

The studio, which is in Watford, is about a 40-minute drive from London. You can take public transportation there but not in a direct fashion. We took an Uber which was easier, faster and not much more expensive than taking the tube and buses you'd need to otherwise.

You can bring your own food and drink which is lovely. If you don't feel like schlepping vitals out to the studio, the two cafes (Studio and Backlot) offer really nice salads, sandwiches, burgers and such at reasonable prices. The food is loads better than anything you'd find at an American studio or theme park. For example, I had a couscous salad with beets and goat cheese, and the boys had a beautiful hamburger on a glistening brioche bun that came with stunning lettuce leaves (NOT iceberg) and gigantic tomato slice. 

The gift shops are pricey though I admit that much (not all but much) of the merchandise is nice. We did a spin before going on the tour so the kids could be thinking about what they might want to spend their money on. I think that was helpful because as they went through the visit, certain things faded or became more beloved in their minds.
We've had the kids saving their own money from gifts and such and have asked them to buy their own souvenirs. It's been meaningful for them and a great lesson on budgeting, and hey, we are treating them to this trip. 

Bring a camera and wear comfortable shoes! 

Try to get a good night's sleep before you go. I hope you do. It's well worth it!

in Ollivander's