Aisle Say New York

Hamlet

By William Shakespeare
Directed by Andrei Serban
Starring Liev Schreiber
Papp Public/Martinson / 425 Lafayette Street / (212) 239-6200

As one of my Aisle Say colleagues recently pointed out, there are only so many times you can see a given Shakespeare play in one lifetime before you are rendered incapable of ever seeing it with fresh eyes again. And certainly "Hamlet", that most iconographic of Shakespearean tragedies, tops the list of the too-familiar. Thus, any experienced viewer—most especially one who is a critic—has to work overtime to give any new production a fair shake.

But you can only be so accommodating, and the current Public Theatre offering, directed by Andrei Serban, abuses the privilege of indulgence. Well, let me restate that a bit. Mr. Serban and his colleagues are not working dishonorably or—as far as I can tell—dishonestly: but the net result of that work, the finished product, is like something unassembled: there are interesting bits here and there, but nothing cohesive, apart from a modern-behavior colloquial playing style, to hold them together. That, and an environment that respects no literal time or place: a streamlined universe of gold walls and hidden doors, which is as likely to seem of the Middle Ages as it is of the present age, and indeed, the props range from classic swords to a hand-held mini-recorder, into which Polonius makes notes to himself (rather than speak asides to the audience).

Liev Shreiber is Hamlet, and he seems psychologically, charismatically and vocally ideal for the role…but like the production, he seems more involved in the outer flash of things than the inner life that informs them, so even the most prettily intoned, or intensely delivered soliloquy can be lulling, for lack of an emotional context you can invest in.

Symbolism, both obvious and bewildering, abounds, and some very gifted actors—among the most recognizeable, Diane Venora (Gertrude), Colm Feore (Claudius) and Richard Libertini (Polonius)—throw themselves into the proceedings with an admirable, dedicated abandon.

But in the end it seems like a lot of talented people working very hard for naught, and as if whatever concept sparked the production somehow shattered, its pieces in evidence, but its fundamental integrity unreclaimable. All of which diminishes the thing we care most about: the story. Which would normally motivate my ending with the reminder that, as Hamlet himself says, the play’s the thing…

But I suspect you're way ahead of me…

ECLECTIC is as eclectic does, but the sheer mix and muddle of styles surrounding and soon submerging Andrei Serban's staging of "Hamlet" -- opening at the Joseph Papp Public Theater last night, with Liev Schreiber as an understandably gloomy Dane -- proved extraordinary.

The text is there all right -- Serban takes surprisingly few liberties -- but the context is consistently perverse, confusing and, perhaps worst of all, merely annoying when it is presumably meant to be provocative.

The Romanian-born Serban is a most distinguished director, and some of his ideas are good -- the emphasis on the play's politics, for example, or the court intrigue that places note-taking spies in every corner. But more often the ideas are simply bizarre.

Our first sight of Hamlet has him demonstrating his "sullied flesh" by getting drunk and throwing up, while later Ophelia and Laertes take their leave of each other chewing ice-cream cones.

Hamlet's "advice to the players," is enlivened with a placard display of past Hamlets from Sarah Bernhardt to Schreiber himself, Claudius is implausibly duped into taking over from the Player King in the Play Scene, and Osric flies in on a trapeze.

Some other flaws are more of interpretation than staging. Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are made into doltish Laurel and Hardy-style characters -- unlikely candidates for a prince's college buddies -- and even Claudius' wicked machinations are, perhaps following the example of Ingmar Bergman's staging, given a clownish twist.

Certainly Serban has eschewed spectacle -- Robert Wilson could scarcely be more sparse or smoky -- and John Coyne's scenic designs consist largely of one rock, stuck fairly and almost squarely mid-stage, and a moving stippled back wall with a high platform.

After the intermission there is the addition of a kind of sandbox filled with imitation snow. Marina Draghici's costumes are similarly timeless and placeless, running a weird gamut from medieval to punk.

Within the parameters of the production's Loony Tunes concept, some of the performances are not at all bad. Colm Feore, an experienced Shakespearean from Canada's Stratford Festival, is outstandingly good as the sneaky king, and Christian Camargo makes an upright Horatio.

However, neither Diane Venora as Gertrude nor Lynn Collins as Ophelia can talk or act their way out of the manifold traps the production sets for them.

Which leaves one with the altogether admirable Schreiber.

A classically trained actor with a compelling saturnine dignity, a superbly delicate sense of comic irony and a wonderfully intelligent way with a line-reading, I found myself longing to see him in a production of "Hamlet" that regarded the play as the thing. He is an actor to reckon with.

 In the old days of school testing, before multiple choice turned academic know-how into something of a lottery, a favorite scholastic instrument of torture was the dangerously simple-sounding proposition, "Compare and contrast ... " Comparing and contrasting is, of course, part of the technical arsenal critics are supposed to bring to their craft. You can't expect a critic to deliver an objective opinion -- an opinion by definition is subjective -- but you can at least hope for an opinion that is informed.

It is here that comparing and contrasting becomes useful. If, for example, a critic writes that "this is the best damned Hamlet I've ever seen," if it's the first damned Hamlet he or she had ever seen, it is also the worst damned Hamlet he or she had ever seen. I mention Hamlet, I suppose, because last week we had Liev Schreiber tackling the gloomy Dane in Andrei Serban's bizarre staging of "Hamlet" at the Joseph Papp Public Theater. A revered colleague of mine, J.C. Trewin, once wrote a book called "Five & Eighty Hamlets." I am not sure how many Hamlets I have seen from my first boyhood sight of Alec Guinness playing it in modern dress in 1938 up until Schreiber last week, but by now it must be that many. When asked to name the best Hamlet I ever saw, I sometimes feel perverse and want to name some Hamlets that I enjoyed but were generally poorly reviewed.

I'm remembering Guinness (not in the modern-dress version, but later when he was, in my experience, the first bearded Hamlet), Alan Bates and Peter O'Toole opening up Olivier's National Theater, when I think I was the only critic in the civilized world who gave him a rave. The screen Hamlet I admired most was neither Olivier nor Kenneth Branagh, but Mel Gibson -- and that's not perversity, just good taste. And of American Hamlets? I was too young to have seen Barrymore, but I suppose the three most notable American Hamlets since have been Stacy Keach, Kevin Kline and Sam Waterston. Kline was an athletic soldier-prince, a sort of Henry V with doubts, while Waterston suggested a scholar whose resolution was "sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought." But for me, the best of that bunch was Keach, whose neurotic passion and fierce poetry were quite wonderful.

Which brings us to the latest Hamlet -- Schreiber, who, against all odds, proved both thoughtfully poetic and bold. The difficulty with a classic as well-thumbed as "Hamlet" is partly to persuade an audience to sit up and take notice -- but you have to be careful of what notice is being taken. Hamlet on a bicycle or a speedboat might be striking but would probably also be irrelevant. That kind of artistic and cultural irrelevancy abounds in Serban's curiously wrong-headed "Hamlet." The circumstances -- even odder than those faced by Martin Sheen, who played Hamlet in Joseph Papp's own weird staging at the Public Theater back in 1967 -- made Schreiber's triumph all the more impressive. Although a movie and TV star, he is not just a pretty face -- in fact, he has an interestingly pudgy face -- and he could have a terrific future as a classic player, or any other kind of player.

Nothing Like a Dane
Liev goes public with his love for "Hamlet"

By Patricia O'Haire
Daily News Staff Writer

Liev Schreiber has the sort of smoldering good looks that make you think that if he isn't an actor, he should be.

But he is an actor, and a good one. And after last night's opening of "Hamlet" at the Public Theater, the buzz around this guy is just going to get louder.

Schreiber is tall — 6-foot-2 — and intense, with dark hair and a pleasant smile. But he speaks like a man who enjoys his opinions. So maybe it's fitting that his Hamlet is a very unusual one. Directed by Andre Serban, who never met a playwright he couldn't reinterpret, the show is "a world of Andre's own creation," Schreiber says.

When Schreiber was asked to do "Hamlet," he had to think about it. "It's a remarkable play," he says. "I always thought so, probably because everyone told me it was. But after reading it, I think it's probably the most remarkable play I've ever read.

"Unfortunately, too often it has been used as an acting showcase ... and I didn't want this production to be another of those. But when I heard Andre Serban would be directing it, I knew it wouldn't be. I'd worked with him before — in Central Park, when we did 'Cymbeline,' and it was there I realized he had a certain disregard for the formality of acting. And when you know — as with 'Hamlet' — that the audience knows every word of the play you're doing, you have to find a way to re-invent it. Andre does that."

Schreiber has a long history with the Public Theater. Besides "Cymbeline," he did "The Tempest" with Patrick Stewart and "Macbeth" with Alec Baldwin.

A native and current New Yorker, the 32-year-old Schreiber spent three years in London at the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art learning the classics. Then, "I got homesick," he says. So he came back and spent another year or two at Yale's drama school.

But his highbrow training hasn't stopped him from playing all sorts of roles. Schreiber was the betrayed husband in "A Walk on the Moon," and co-starred in "Jakob the Liar" with Robin Williams. He'll be in the new movie "The Hurricane," as well as "Scream 3."

It's a mad, mad, mad, mad kingdom, this nutty old land of Denmark that has materialized at the Joseph Papp Public Theater. Even Hamlet, for all his perversity, should know better than to describe the place as a prison. What it is, obviously, is a circus, and all its men and women merely clowns.

In Andrei Serban's gaudy, frantic staging of Shakespeare's "Hamlet," which opened last night with Liev Schreiber as the vacillating prince, the title character isn't the only one to put an antic disposition on.

Why, even the evil King Claudius can't wipe a maniac's
grin off his face or, finding a discarded pig's mask, resist the temptation to play games with it. As for the virginal Ophelia, she behaves like a Kamasutra instructress one minute and a macabre marionette the next.

Then there's the philosophizing gravedigger, who has "clown" helpfully spelled out on his costume (lest you misunderstand his role in the play), doing a cute ventriloquist's act with a skull. And when the annoying courtier named Osric shows up, he flits through the air suspended by wires, no doubt because he is mockingly described as "a waterfly."

Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are presented as Tweedledum and Tweedledee, but then they always are.

Actually, despite its flashy exaggerations and aggressively jokey demeanor, Mr. Serban's "Hamlet" offers very little that isn't usually addressed in the teaching of the play in high school English classes. Though Mr. Schreiber manages to strike sparks of insight in a brave,
game-for-anything portrayal, the overall effect of the production is of a postmodern Cliff Notes, with ideas and metaphors given a cartoonish physicality that borrows randomly from assorted cultures and time periods.

 This broad eclecticism, which also embraces a whole dictionary of styles of theater, is the specialty of Mr. Serban, the Romanian-born director whose credits range from a legendary "Cherry Orchard" at Lincoln Center in the 1970's to a much-debated version of Wagner's "Ring" in San
Francisco last summer. Here he seems to be trying to bring to "Hamlet" the sort of carnivalesque whimsy and electricity that his onetime mentor, Peter Brook, famously brought to "A Midsummer Night's Dream."

The result, in this case, is more a series of illustrations and annotations than illuminations, and it disastrously places concept over character. The governing conceit appears to be that "Hamlet" is all about levels of deception and illusion (well, duh!), an idea that reaches its zenith (or nadir) when the ensemble files on stage carrying posters of productions of "Hamlets" past, while Mr. Schreiber's prince addresses the company of visiting players.

The approach isn't much friendlier to actors than that of Julie Taymor in "The Lion King"; it's the spectacle, the props and the outsize gestures that count here. The performances by and large are smothered in the avalanche of gimmicks.

The principal and most merciful exception is Mr. Schreiber, an actor who has already demonstrated a fluid ease with things Shakespearean in Public Theater productions of "The Tempest," "Macbeth" and "Cymbeline." He doesn't begin the evening promisingly, rendering Hamlet's disgust with the situation at Elsinore in scenes of vomiting and stomach clutching that give graphic life to existential nausea.

Yet once this Hamlet decides to feign madness, Mr. Schreiber picks up steam, pulling off some entertainingly grotesque variations on his character's shock tactics that remind us that the actor's résumé includes two of those scary "Scream" movies. By the tragedy's second half, when Hamlet has found his purpose, Mr. Schreiber finally gives in to standard-issue heroic diction, and you miss the loon that was.

He also does a splendid job with the "O, what a rogue and peasant slave" soliloquy, which he performs partly in the aisles, with the house lights up, after Hamlet's first scene with the visiting players. Without breaking character, Mr. Schreiber directly invites the audience to experience Hamlet's detached but disorienting sense of life as theater, thick with layers of artifice.

It's one of the few moments in which Mr. Serban's it's-only-a-play self-consciousness elicits a feeling of fresh perception, and Mr. Schreiber's confident command of the intricate language brings vivid clarity to complexity. Throughout, he and Mr. Serban are clearly trying hard to give startling readings to familiar phrases, and a few of them are inspired: delivering "words, words, words" for example, with an oceanic pause for every comma.

Others are downright embarrassing, as when Hamlet does his sardonic paean to the piece of work that is a man while pointing to a Rosencrantz and Guildenstern (Jeremy Shamos and Jonathan Fried) frozen in village idiot postures. Even worse is having "To be or not to be" spoken while Hamlet feels the pulse of Ophelia (Lynn Collins, in a rudderless performance), who has fainted.

Colm Feore, the first-rate Canadian actor who appeared in "32 Short Films About Glenn Gould," has been saddled with an approach to Claudius that takes its cue from Hamlet's line that "one may smile, and smile, and be a villain." Sure enough, a hearty smile seldom leaves Mr. Feore's face, yet he manages to turn what might have been mere shtick into a sharp-edged Brechtian portrait of political hypocrisy. He is, unfortunately, the only actor other than Mr. Schreiber to claim his role as his own.

Everyone else loses out to Mr. Serban's directorial whims of iron. Richard Libertini's Polonius will be remembered less for how he said anything than for using a microcassette recorder to tape his observations; the earthy Gertrude of Diane Venora (who has played both Hamlet and Gertrude in previous productions at the Public) for the "Flintstones"-style hairdo she sports for the mousetrap scene; Hamish Linklater's sneering Laertes for treating his sister Ophelia like an inflatable sex toy.

The ghost of Hamlet's father, by the way, is embodied by three (or is it four?) actors in rather silly costumes of armor and tulle, and the warrior prince Fortinbras shows up as a set of androgynous twins (Justin Campbell and Wendy Rich Stetson).

 John Coyne's set emphasizes giant folding screens, trapdoors and peepholes through which the characters spy on one another with binoculars and note pads. Marina Draghici's costumes are the usual transcultural blend, ranging from the Morrocan to Mussolini-era Italian. If you know experimental Shakespeare, you've seen it all before, many times.

There is also exotic cinematic mood music by Elizabeth Swados, which is used distractingly to underscore and punctuate what the actors are saying. Hamlet's often-quoted advice to the traveling players -- simply to "speak the speech" -- clearly has no place here. The guiding principle of this "Hamlet" is that of fashion victims everywhere: when in doubt, pile on another accessory.

What may be the very last new "Hamlet" of Shakespeare's millennium opens at the Joseph Papp Public Theater tonight -- boards that many melancholy Danes have trod before.

This time, Liev Schreiber wears the customary suits of solemn black, under the direction of the Romanian-born Andrei Serban, an unapologetic eclectic. In his early years, Mr. Serban assisted Peter Brook and went on to make his name with experimental productions of Greek tragedy, Chekhov, Goldoni and Shakespeare for companies including La Mama, the American Repertory Theater in Cambridge, Mass., and the Public. His awareness of the history of "Hamlet" and of theater history in general converge at the moment shown in the accompanying photograph, when the prince is dispensing his famous advice to the players.

"O, there be players that I have seen play . . .," Hamlet begins airily, proceeding to diss them all. As he does so, cast members carry on posters of Hamlets past. Ralph Fiennes, lately of Broadway, is there, along with the Public's own Sam Waterston, Kevin Kline and Diane Venora (borne by Ms. Venora herself, this production's Gertrude), plus the celluloid princelings Laurence Olivier, Mel Gibson and Kenneth Branagh, not to mention John Barrymore and Sarah Bernhardt, still legends after generations.

Last and largest in the parade is a blow-up of Mr. Schreiber, so big that it takes two actors to carry it. They enter just in time to illustrate the final words of Hamlet's critique: "They imitated humanity so abominably." Subtext: If the shoe fits . . . Preview audiences have been giving the line a laugh.

For those who don't get it, Mr. Serban offered this brief aside: "When the posters arrive, the audience may say: 'Where are we? Are we in Elsinore?' I say, 'Listen, we are not in Elsinore, guys, we are in the theater.'"

Quite a few quantities in this "Hamlet" bear noting. A single intermission. Two Fortinbrases. Three extra ghosts of Hamlet's father. And so on.

About the intermission, Mr. Serban said: "After directing Wagner's 'Ring' in San Francisco this summer, I could see a value created by sheer duration. You're entering a new universe. When you're on a journey, you don't feel time so much. Second, the play has two broad movements. First, Hamlet is given his mission of revenge by the ghost, an aim he pursues more and more unsuccessfully until he kills Polonius. Hamlet's departure for England closes the first cycle. When he comes back to Denmark, he has found out about courage, determination, will, following one's aim -- everything he has been missing."

And why the double Fortinbras? Shakespeare's prince of Norway is a man of steel who arrives at Elsinore just in time to take charge without a fight. In Mr. Serban's show, a Joan of Arc arrives, arm in arm with an androgynous twin brother, with whom she recites in high-pitched, echo-distorted tones.

"Hamlet's death is a kind of sacrifice," the director said. "He wants to give an example that will give other people a chance to get things right. Then Fortinbras appears, like the Archangel Gabriel, in the outfit of a warrior. But they are warriors in a spiritual army, bringing peace, a caressing kind of hope."

It is a coda for a mystery play, worlds away from where the show began, hours before, when a stagehand hauled out a smoke machine, à la Brecht, and released a few puffs. In between, Hamlet has taunted Ophelia in scenes straight from Artaud's Theater of Cruelty, there have been touches of Meyerhold, a ghost out of an Elizabethan trapdoor, a closet scene that is pure Stanislavsky and a gravedigger on loan from the New Vaudeville. Nor has Mr. Serban excluded Kabuki, Noh and other traditions of the East.

Why all these styles? "They are trying to mirror life," Mr. Serban said. "In life, there is so much comedy and tragedy one moment after another. But it's hard to say that life has a style."

by Wendy Guida

Hamlet is a gigantic ocean liner which some directors steer into icebergs, while others never actually take it out of port. They pretend to, and even try to direct your gaze to the horizon to convince you you’re out at sea, but then you notice that the ropes are still tied safely to the bollard. Personally, I prefer a big smash up to an imaginary voyage, but there are also those rare instances in which the director succeeds in taking a compelling journey. For the most part, Andrei Serban’s new Hamlet at the Public Theatre succeeds, and where it does not, at least it fails in interesting ways. 

Andrei Serban is a fun director. He works in images, tapping into dream-like visions of the collective unconscious. His work reminds me of something Richard Goldman, one of my favorite professors in college, said: “I love Shakespeare; I don’t worship him. I don’t think he needs it.” Serban, too, loves Shakespeare, and if he does not
worship him, he does respect him. The world of his stage is ripe with surprising textures and unexpected images. His actors understand their parts and savor every line. What is more, he plumbs the text for humor and finds it without sinking to cheap laughs. This is something which is often lost in over-reverent productions. 

I have been following the career of Liev Schreiber (right) for several years. I liked him very much in Walking and Talking, a small indie film about contemporary romance, and he was one very bright spot in a rather painful recent Macbeth. With this play, Schreiber establishes himself as solidly innovative yet reliable actor. His Hamlet walks a tightrope suspended between sarcastic humor and grief, and his choices never fail. It is a beautiful thing to watch. 

Other than Schreiber, the great stand out is Colm Feore, whose Claudius is a hypersexed snake-oil salesman. He brings to vivid life Hamlet’s line that “one may smile and smile and be a villain.” Feore’s interpretation of Claudius’ soliloquy as he tries to pray is the best I have ever seen. He rules over a Denmark which, probably in part due to the nature of his
reign, is as scary as an insane asylum. Claudius is often played with an almost Machiavellian evil, but Feore’s Claudius is more frightening for his banality; he is selfish and cruel, but very human, and therein lies his threat. 

The women in the play are less well served. Serban’s Denmark is rotten in that it is utterly debauched. As a result, Diane Venora plays Gertrude as an addled nymphomaniac. Was it really necessary to have Polonius tell his theories about the cause of her son’s behavior while Gertrude is wrapped, post-coital, in a sheet? Similarly, Lynn Collins’ Ophelia turns the eating of an ice cream cone into an X-rated act. Both women’s roles are problematic, and though these are not the choices I would have made, at least they are bold and consistent. 

Where the play fails: what the heck is going on with the giant sandbox in the second act? And why are there three apparitions when King Hamlet’s ghost appears? (I could probably come up with plausible interpretations, but these things just don’t work for me.) Serban also overdoes an incestuous relationship between Laertes and Ophelia; where Shakespeare has drawn with whisper-light strokes we need not throw on buckets of paint. Perhaps the most unfortunate part was that the ending felt a bit rushed and I was not moved by Horatio’s last words over Hamlet’s body. If we don’t cry when Hamlet dies then someone has not done his job. The most moving Hamlet that I have seen was actually Mel Gibson’s. Feel free to email me if you agree or disagree. The key with Hamlet is never to try to create the definitive one. When people do, they end up getting too heavy-handed and taking themselves much to seriously. Serban, possessing a more playful touch, finds the joy in the text and takes us on a terrific ride; that is indeed worthy of praise. 

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Tragedy? Says who? With its new "Hamlet," directed by Andrei Serban, the Public Theater presents not the monumental Shakespeare tragedy in five acts but a travesty of it in two.

This is the result not of incompetence but incontinence — Mr. Serban's — of the stylistic variety. The Romanian director is known for his adventurous takes on hallowed texts, and goodness knows there's none more hallowed than "Hamlet." Not surprisingly, then, he approaches the play with a willful irreverence, attempting to up-end traditional ideas about this most death-haunted of dramas by invigorating it at every turn with the life-giving sound of laughter.

It's an audacious conceit, certainly, but one that begins to ring desperately hollow long before the play arrives at its bloody close, by which time the audience is likely to be twiddling its collective thumbs rather than sitting shell-shocked at the spectacle of so much humanity destroyed. Sadly, the joke isn't on Shakespeare (he's survived worse), but on Liev Schreiber, an intelligent, magnetic young actor whose attempt to shape an emotionally compelling Hamlet is hamstrung by the surrounding stylistic tumult.

Serban's cockeyed "Hamlet" begins at an emotional fever pitch, with an almost comically overwrought tangle among the sentries, who evince more distress at their encounter with the ghost of the late king than anyone else does for the rest of the play's nearly four-hour running time. It concludes at the opposite end of the thermometer, with Claudius embracing his doom with a bland smile and a shrug, and watching his beloved queen drink down hers no less placidly.

In between, there are all manner of surprising touches: a Laertes with obviously incestuous designs on his sister Ophelia; an Osric who enters aloft, levitating like Peter Pan; much pretended puppetry; Hamlet in pig mask and bloody apron; a pageant of posters bearing the likenesses of previous stage Danes accompanying the young prince’s instructions to the players. But Serban's myriad quirks of staging don't often illuminate Shakespeare's text; they mostly just compete with it (as does Elizabeth Swados' sometimes pretty, sometimes comic, but always overused music). Sometimes — particularly when Schreiber is center stage — Shakespeare wins a round; just as often, Serban does. Needless to say, in the end the biggest loser is the audience.

The director seems to approach each scene as a discreteentity: What can we do to get an unexpected laugh or unearth a new idea here? What is lost, of course, is what we call drama: action and reaction, cause and effect, the unfolding of human destinies in time, pointed up in "Hamlet" by Shakespeare's nerve-straining use of suspense. Such tensions are entirely in abeyance in Serban's "Hamlet," where random theatrical japes continually take precedence over psychological progression.

In this "Hamlet," it's not just Polonius who's a figure of fun (when foolishly trying to analyze Hamlet’s madness, he delivers his comments into a mini tape recorder); so is virtually everyone else. Colm Feore's smarmy Claudius accents the hypocrisies of his opening speech with ludicrously stagy gestures mimicked by the courtiers below, dressed in the strangest of Marina Draghici's strange assortment of costumes. Claudius and Diane Venora's emotional cipher of a Gertrude grope each other grotesquely. These are featherweight, winking interpretations of characters whose behavior, after all, preoccupies the most metaphysically preoccupied character in stage history — they shouldn't merely be the self-infatuated buffoons that Serban offers. (The descent of Lynn Collins' Ophelia isn't much more gripping: She's played as one of the spoiled, self-dramatizing teens from a Fox drama.) Among the supporting cast, only the fine Horatio of Christian Camargo seems meant to be taken seriously.

John Coyne's sets — a gold-washed facade with doors and window through which the characters are always on the watch, giant screens painted with crosses — surround an outcropping of rock that comes to seem a symbol of the great, unmovable beauty of Shakespeare's language, which no amount of directorial flash can obfuscate when it's delivered by an actor of Schreiber's talent and integrity.

In fact that rock may be the same one that co-starred with Schreiber in Serban's "Cymbeline" in Central Park two summers ago. Schreiber's terrific performance as Iachimo in that attractive but uneven production augured great Shakespearean things to come from this young actor, and the actor tries valiantly to deliver on that promise.

His is at times an overly eccentric performance, as it cannot but be amid Serban's vaudevillian dervish of a production. (Hamlet's "What a piece of work is man..." is presented as mere mockery of the doltishly played Rosencrantz and Guildenstern.) Schreiber's Hamlet begins the play at his greatest pitch of grief, punch-drunk with despair at his father's death. He regains his equanimity fairly quickly, and never really loses it again: This is a Hamlet who is definitely only mad "north-northwest," robbing the play of a good measure of its psychological mystery.

If Schreiber's is not an emotionally gripping Hamlet — after each haunted soliloquy, he reverts quickly to the knowing, sardonic manipulator who keeps the audience in comfortable complicity with his shenanigans — his is certainly a beautifully spoken, brilliantly lucid and continually funny one. The actor delivers the verse with impressive clarity as well as an intuitive flair for its cadences. He's never less than transfixing when he's taking us through the dark, complex terrain of Hamlet's thought.

But ultimately, and despite Schreiber's obvious talent and commitment, his Hamlet can only have a theoretical majesty. With Serban's tongue-in-cheek production continually vitiating any emotional involvement in the play, we're never fully alive to the beauty of Hamlet's consciousness and the final horror of its stilling. And that, of course, is a minor tragedy of its own.

By Ulrika Brand
January 19, 2000

Hamlet as a man of action. House lights that come up to include the audience in the speech "To be or not to be." A parade of publicity posters displaying Hamlets from Sarah Bernhardt to the present. These and other startling elements in the production of Shakespeare's "Hamlet" that was presented at the Public Theater earlier this month are the hallmark of Romanian-born director Andrei Serban, who is Professor of Theater Arts in Columbia's School of the Arts. His innovative staging of the "Hamlet" blended ideas and methods from eclectic theater traditions, from Kabuki to Brooks.

This intellectually challenging and unexpected approach to his material has made Serban one of the most respected and sought-after directors of the contemporary theater. He is the recipient of both the Tony and Obie awards, as well as a Life Achievement award from Romania. He recently received the Society of Stage Directors & Choreographers' prestigious "George Abbott Award," honoring 21 artists who have made a major impact on the theater during the twentieth century.

"My idea of Hamlet is not as a romantic character, a kind of Romeo with a problem, which is how he is usually done," Serban explains. "Romeo with an existential complex: that's completely banal to me and of no interest."

Serban's Hamlet was played by Liev Schreiber, a 32-year-old New York actor on the verge of becoming an international star. Schreiber first gained attention for his performances in independent films, including "Walking and Talking" and "Daytrippers" (directed by Columbia Film Division alumni Nicole Holofcener and Greg Mottola, respectively), and he recently starred as a cuckolded husband in the feature "A Walk on the Moon" and as Orson Welles in the HBO movie "RKO 281" (directed by another Columbia Film graduate, Ben Ross). Schreiber also earned rave reviews as Iago in "Cymbeline" directed by Serban for the New York Shakespeare Festival in Central Park last year.

"Liev was extraordinary in 'Cymbeline'--we worked very well together," comments Serban, adding that in a reversal of standard procedure, he was "cast" as director of "Hamlet" by Schreiber and George Wolfe, producer of the Public Theater/New York Shakespeare Festival.

Serban's approach to Hamlet was collaborative, drawing on qualities Schreiber brought to the role as an actor. "To me," says the director, "Hamlet is a hero like Prometheus. Like Prometheus he is unhappy with the status quo; he wants the total truth, and sacrifices himself for the truth, for the fire. I want to see this big man with a volcanic temperament, who is not at all a weakling, who is not at all a confused intellectual impotent, the way he is done usually. He is a man of action who is so deeply honest or concerned that he doesn't know what the right action is."

From Serban's perspective, the play is about the awakening of conscience. "To be asleep in the conscience means to be sinful. Everybody's asleep in the court of Claudius; they are all happy, as if they're under a big hypnotist. It's comfortable, it's a hypnosis. The economy's doing well, the country's prosperous, the wars are under control, we can all just have nice times." Serban sees Hamlet as a kind of Everyman who searches for the path to truth, stumbles along the way (by killing the wrong man, Polonius), but who vindicates himself. Serban's reading of the play approaches a Biblical interpretation. "Hamlet sets things right in his world by sacrificing himself for the truth, which in a way is what the great messengers did," he says. "Horatio stays on the planet to give the message of Hamlet: that if you look for the truth and don't let the lie seduce you, maybe this planet can be purged of sin, of evil."

When Serban is asked about the eclectic techniques evident in his work, he explains that he uses "whatever works, whatever makes sense for the scene." Discussing his unconventional lighting in "Hamlet," he references his mentor Peter Brooks' philosophy, "In the theater, the actors and the audience are in the same bed. 'To be or not to be, that is the question,' is everyone's question, not only the actor's. That is why the light comes up. It opens up the question to the audience. It makes members of the audience feel that they are part of the question. It involves them in the best way possible, in the conscience."

Serban has been teaching at Columbia since 1992, where he is director of the Oscar Hammerstein II Center for Theater Studies and heads the M.F.A. acting program. He has also taught at the Yale School of Drama, Harvard University, and the Conservatoire de Paris, among other programs. He began his directing career in the U.S. in 1970 following studies at the Theater Institute in Romania; his extensive credits include "The Cherry Orchard" at Lincoln Center's Vivian Beaumont Theatre, "Agamemnon" and "The Seagull" at the Public Theater, "The Merchant of Venice" at the American Repertory Theatre, and "The End of the World" by David Lan at the Royal National Theatre in London. Since 1980, Serban has directed operas worldwide; his most recent production was "The Ring" at San Francisco Opera. He served as General Director of the Romanian National Theatre from 1990 to 1993.

Serban is in Paris this month to direct Molière's "The Miser" for the Comédie Française.

All I can say is what a tremendously enjoyable time I had. Spending the weekend with Angie was great, and meeting up with Amandada on Saturday was great fun. I must say thanks to her again for showing me Sephora, a store to me that is as a CrackHouse must be to an addict.

And now for the moment that you are all waiting for - Hamlet. We saw two performances, Saturday night and Sunday afternoon. Both were frenetic and exciting, with a distinctly Serbanesque flavor. Minimal, colorful, abstract scenery and all that sand again… The players had some very fresh approaches that were at once modern and yet still held the full classic taste of Shakespeare. The first performance had a moderate pace that held your attention if not always your thoughts; however, the second was played to a faster tempo and seemed to pull you along throughout the entire show. The second was definitely an improvement over the first.

As you all know, the shining star of the entire event was The Man, Liev, himself. The subtle nuances that he lent the character, the raw sense of vulnerability that imbued his Hamlet surely seduced the audience. His body language combined with his speech commanded the role with nothing less than excellence and sheer romantic verse. His comedic approach took you to a bitter high, then with a look he would change him completely and lead you on to a rollercoaster of emotion. You felt for Hamlet, you knew the journey to Hell he was taking. Liev conveyed this to perfection. Kudos to him on a sparkling undertaking of an often over done, flatly played character.

We had the chance to meet with him afterwards, and as is always the case with his admirers, he was a truly genuine person. The very epitome of a gentleman and quite giving of his time in a manner that was above and beyond that of any actor. Again, he is very deserving of the honorable things we say about him on this forum.

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Angie's Review

Hamlet...

I saw a lot of similarities in Serban's “Cymbeline” and “Hamlet” direction - some obvious like the sand on the set, the use of belltones to denote important moments and the cartoonesque nature of some of the characters.
He likes to pose characters in front of swatches of color it seems, and movement seems to be tightly controlled, quite choreographed…maybe even a tad overdone at times.

I found Serban’s interpretation insightful, mostly because it allowed meaning to be attached to some passages that I would never have fathomed. My biggest complaint may be some of the casting. Maybe it wasn’t that any of the performances were weak as much as it was that they were up against some really stellar actors.

I loved Colm Feore as Claudius/Ghost of King. He was colorful and bold and had a huge presence on stage for someone so slight in stature. I think this must be a man who is a true wonder when it comes to physical comedy. Richard Libertini was also fantastic. Both men, along with Liev, were really the only ones who made the verse sound natural instead of like “just plain verse.” I mean, there was actually some pretty bad reading up there by some of the actors. Also, Hamish Linklater provided a very sexually driven portrait of Laertes, which I actually found refreshing in this particular interpretation. I saw such potential for Jonathan Fried, as Guildenstern, to be the greatest comic element of the show but I feel he is given far too few opportunities to go over the top – and that’s really a shame.

As for Liev, I felt he brought us an amazingly vulnerable Hamlet. He was strong and measured one minute and then melting with emotion whenever in the presence of his mother. He was a boy who holds his mother as a figure of such control over his moods, no matter what sort of disdain he felt when looking at her. Liev’s Hamlet was a man fighting each and every minute with the dichotomy of his inner feelings.

Like Liev’s performance in “Cymbeline”, his performance in Hamlet proved him to be the one actor on the stage with a real and total talent for building a relationship with the audience. Granted, a 300-seat theater makes it easier, but none the less, Liev has a genuine flair for reaching out and connecting with the audience: through eye contact, with smirks shared like a private joke, by using his amazing flexibility to convey expression with his eyes and mouth. Hamlet becomes intimate with the audience and you come away realizing that without a doubt you know that prince.

I noticed Serban’s use of scent in connecting with the audience as well. Wafting aromas – oranges, roasted turkey, incense from a funeral rite – passed over the audience allowing you to more fully supersaturate yourself in the world of the characters.

Liev’s Hamlet is supercharged, kinetic and disarming. I related to pain that drove his actions. I saw a man who dealt with life’s hard knocks by emoting vibrantly and with candor. His Hamlet was very physical, despite the torn thingamajig in his knee (thank God for physical therapy, eh Liev?!) – the long strides while fencing, the leaping, the bounding.

Also, on another note, I would love to be able to see the play after the preview period. I thought the changes in staging from Saturday night to Sunday afternoon were interesting and noticeable. I am curious as to how the final production will look.

Liev is, when not in character and outside of the “workplace”, warm and chatty. He’s a good listener and I love watching him talk to people who approach him to tell him they admire his work. He says he loves meeting people – and why wouldn’t he? What a good thing to be given credit where credit is due.

I had a nice weekend, a great time with Lisa and Mina, loved finally being able to meet Greg Mottola (a completely, amazingly cool and candid guy who really just needs to go ahead and rent “Powder” –be warned it’s a good cry), got a lot out of the play and found reason to see Liev even more as just a regular guy with a huge talent.

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Mina's Review

This lady doth protest too much...

While I love the idea of fucking with the classics, I really don't think Serban's Hamlet is very avant garde or experimental at all. After reading Lahr's description in the New Yorker I was expecting to see a much more deconstructed version than what played. And though there are elements in the production that could be labeled "Brechtian" (the self-reflexivness of Hamlet's instruction to the players as commentary on past Hamlets), there is nothing defamiliarizing about their uses. Serban depoliticizes Brecht for entertainment---the production is a pastiche of styles and techniques, but to what end? Not only is the postmodern collage effect completely mainstream by now, but Serban only seems interested in it as a means to revivify the play, not question the grounds of representation itself (which is something Hamlet could lend itself to, not only in terms of the themes ("Seems? I know not seems") but also the hyper canonical status of Shakespeare, AND the play's status as a collection of phrases that have become common usage). As it stands, the play contains irreverent/unconventional moments that "work" (Hamlet's butcher garb for dismembering Polonius, the pig mask for playing with the idea of play, hiding your real self, and maybe even male pride, and most of all the restaging of the (infamous) to be or not to be speech over Ophelia's unconcious body as a potential double suicide) and those that don't (Ophelia as Hamlet's puppet? Oh, she is a puppet all right---HER FATHER's and PROPRIETRY's, not Hamlet's!!!, the player on wires, etc.).

All throughout the play I found myself thinking about how I would direct it. Ok, ok, there is all kind of ego/family history/hubris in such fantasies, but a remark of Liev's after the show made me think through these things more. Liev remarked on how Hamlet is always played as vehicle for a scenery-chewing individual performer, to the exclusion of any attention being given to the other characters. This made me think of the possiblities of a real ensemble Hamlet...a staging which would dethrone Hamlet and play him as merely one individual in a larger set of social groups: the court, the family, friendships, romantic relationships. This would of course take liberties with the text as well as tradition, and the play would need be retitled. "Bearing Fardles," "The Gang from Elsinore", "Knowning a Hawk from a Handsaw"..anything to tilt the usual focus of attention. I would stage it as an investigation of the patriarchal family: Ophelia, or any girl, just doesn't have a chance up against that, and Hamlet isn't too eager to be Dad either. That play takes place during a time of historical transition and crisis (usurpation, conquest) when conventional relationships crack under pressure. Hamlet in this case is a bit like the bourgeois dilettante in the film "Memories of Underdevelopment"---history has rendered him obsolete. All the categories for making sense of himself: Prince, son, lover, friend, are coming apart. There is no solid ground on which to hang around dawdling and wondering what to do. If he cannot act he will die, worse, he will cause other's deaths. "To desire and act not breeds pestilence," to quote from the Proverbs of Hell.

While I have many quarrels with Serban, as with Cymbeline, so with Hamlet: Liev's performance was very good. Exceedingly good under such conditions! He is both a very physical and very emotionally subtle actor and he makes good use of both skills in Hamlet. I am particularly impressed by the DELICACY of parts of his performance. He is able to achieve very fragile shadings of emotion with facial expressions---Hamlet's reaction shots, if you will. He is a very charismatic live performer who seems aware of the audience's presence at all times (how I wish I could see him in something experimental! Liev, add Heiner Muller's "Hamletmachine" to your reading list now!) I hope he can do a lot more theatre work in the future; it would be fascinating to see how he would stage and direct things. This is especially thought-provoking given that Liev is responsible for what I thought was the most emotionally intense and intellectually challenging moment: drawing the blade across both Hamlet and Ophelia's wrists.

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Yvonne's Review

Ophelia's Madness

I've always had trouble identifying the root of Ophelia's madness. In most of the versions I have seen, it seems to always be Polonius' death that "pushes her over the edge." Which has seemed consistent with her strong bond to father and brother and somewhat easy "betrayal" of Hamlet her lover.

I was definitely taken aback by what seemed to me to be Hamlet's raping of Ophelia (I just realized that the scene had a very Kubrickian feel with the absurd pig mask, Hamlet's "song and dance" number, Ophelia in red and Hamlet lifting her from behind and brutally grabbing her groin. Come to think of it- the whole production stressed that very same absurdist comedy from A Clockwork Orange. I think I read in the New Yorker article that Liev initially protested that blocking, or maybe it was just the pig mask he didn't like- I can't remember.

I thought it was pretty gutsy to make Hamlet so unsympathetic- it almost makes more sense for him to die in the end then because he wasn't totally innocent (I've never considered killing Polonius a sin. People do make mistakes, you know : )

That was one of the most amazing things about Liev's performance was his ability to do such a 180 from an infantile state of bereavement to an adult man with the weight of the world in guilt on his shoulders.

I, too, was impressed with the subtlties in Liev's performance. He never goes for the easy display of emotion. I most loved when you could see the tears well up in his eyes, but he held back. Very classy.

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Marie's Review

Hamlet

Yes, it was absolutely amazing! I do not usually enjoy Hamlet and was blown away. It is extremely well directed, adding a lot of interesting and often funny elements which fit in marvellously.

Of course Liev was extraordinary as always. His tone, diction, gestures, everything is beyond perfect. I could go on but I don't think the novel would go through. :-)

We spoke with him a bit afterward, he is indeed such a sweetheart! Of course we already knew that :-), but in person, *wow*. That's all I can say.

Although planning was a hassle (not to mention two most uncomfortable, sleepless nights in the bus), it was well worth going. Anyone who can definitely should.

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DT's Review

Hamlet

So, I saw Hamlet last night...from the 15th row

I was once again utterly impressed with the conviction that Liev employs his in acting. But I was also blown away by Andre Serban's direction. I'm not going to spoil the play for anyone, but I think that he made some interpretive decision on the psyche of Hamlet that I have not seen done with this text. With Liev playing the role it worked very well. I assume that Michael Almadreya (sp?) will not have such leeway into the character with a limited actor like Ethan Hawke.

I thought that the set design and the lighting complemented the performance greatly, but the music was horrific. Although on a personal note, any play that features a recorder I have to give props to, because at Friends we play the recorder, literally from 1st to 12th grade. I was in the recorder ENSEMBLE in Middle School, where we played Greensleeves at both the Cloisters and at a Renaissance fair.

Not surprisingly I ran into someone that I know at the show and he was incredibly impressed with Liev's performance as well. I had thought that he would play Hamlet well, because he has the ability to speak both rapidly and clearly, which is so necessary to keep the soliloquies from being a tired rendition of high school English. But Liev's body language and immersion into the character as both devastated and cunning made for a performance that was amazing in it's entirety.

Congratulations and WOW!

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Melissa B's Review

Yet Another Hamlet Review

I was lucky enough to see Hamlet, and I can't help wondering if the woman who wrote "Just couldn't do it... "(sorry - I deleted it before I got the name straight!) saw the same show I did. When I got to talk to Liev before the show (he had come outside to get some air before two very grueling shows that day), I asked him how long the show was (I had to catch my ride home that evening - otherwise I'd have stayed forever!), and he told me, saying that they had cut some, but not to the two hour version, "which is what most people seem to want." My response was, "They'll get over it." As for the production itself, it was an unusual staging, but that was what worked for me. I didn't get to see Cymbeline, so I have no other Sherban plays to which to compare Hamlet, but I loved the Zen elements. To me, the staging was both ancient and modern, and the sets were at once stark - which allowed the actors to take their rightful place as the center of attention - and rich enough to suggest the palace in which the bulk of the action takes place. It felt much more like an Art Theater production than Broadway, which may be a problem for some American audiences. As to the performances, I didn't see a false note on the stage. Standouts for me (besides Liev, of course) were Colm Feore, Diane Venora, and Lynn Collins. The male/female relationships were fascinating, and I hadn't seen the suggestion of incest in Ophelia's family before, which made her madness more real than in many productions. This is a woman under immense pressures, and the pressure of trying to figure out what game Hamlet is playing, along with her brother being gone would be enough to make anyone at least a little mad. Polonius's death is almost a coda to the rest of her problems. The whole production felt new - which is pretty good for 400 year old material! As a production of "the melancholy Dane," it had far more energy and far less melancholy - for which I'm thankful. Liev's energy carried the show, and his Hamlet had facets I don't think anyone else has found - at least no one I've seen. He and Sherban found humor, which on an instant turned to fury, to fear, to grief, sometimes all in the same scene. His transformations from the uncertainty and confusion at the beginning to the mature acceptance of his life and fate at the end were amazing - and very real.

I will always be grateful that I got to see this production, and I'll be at any other theater production in which Liev performs. (Of course, I'll see the movies, too. This IS Hurricane week!)

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Noelle's Review

Amazing Hamlet

First, I would like to thank Marie and Angie for giving me the information on how to obtain Hamlet tickets. I had posted a question on Dec. 7th, and their timely response allowed me to get those very tickets! Thank you so much!

 Next, I would like to thank my boyfriend, Robert, for being very understanding: for buying the tickets as my Christmas present, and for going up to Liev himself after the show to talk to him and to get his autograph for me after I froze and turned into the world's biggest chicken. May I be as gracious as you one of these days ;)

Finally, I would like to thank Liev for an AMAZING Hamlet. I saw the Jan. 2, 2000 matinee performance, and I enjoyed the entire play. I would also like to thank Colm Feore (Claudius), Richard Libertini (Polonius), Diane Venora (Gertrude), and to the director, Andrei Serban, whose supportive roles helped make Liev's Hamlet so engrossing and fascinating to watch. Liev, your Hamlet was so impressive, that even my boyfriend (who has taught Shakespeare many times) thought that you did a great performance that afternoon. I hope that your knee did not hamper the evening's performance in any way. I also thank you for acknowledging my existence with a wave after Robert pointed me out- that was nice of you. I wish that I had the time and money to back up these compliments (that you must hear all of the time) and provide support by seeing Hamlet again before the run is over. I guess that I will compromise, and go see The Hurricane.

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Deanie's Review

My Thoughts...

I finally got back from my trip. Had a great time in Boston and New York. Happy New Year everyone! Alright, I froze my little tushy off in NY, but it's all good. I am moving there in a couple of months. On to Hamlet.....
I am completely in awe of Liev's talent. I agree with the man who reviewed Liev as being "ridiculously multi-talented". I was nervous about going to see the play by myself, I knew I wouldn't have the guts to go up to Liev afterwards. My friend went to see Naked Boys Singing, and waited at the Public until Hamlet was over.
Anyway, Liev is the best thing about the play. The other actors were good. However, some of them (I won't name names) were not too convincing. I don't think I am a fan of the ringing of the bell, the drinks I had before the show probably didn't help with that! I did meet Liev after the play. He seems very nice, like all of you said he was. He is such a cutie, too! I was totally nervous, I felt stupid approaching him, but my friend made me. His performance was amazing, I can't wait to see him perform again. Sorry this is not a detailed description, I think Angie did a better job describing the play than I would have. I had a awesome time. Liev, thank you for taking time to meet me after the play. Hopefully next time, I won't be so nervous. You are very talented, looking forward to seeing you again. I will send you the New Year's gift tomorrow (finally got my luggage back). Thanks for a great night in NY, Happy New Year.

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Griffin's Review

Hamlet

Andrei Serban is a man with a vision. Whether or not his vision is slightly flawed seems almost inconsequential, for a play is nothing without a vision. Hamlet opens long before the actors take the stage, while a stagehand
sits center on a small black stage and sprays the room with a mist, obviously for "return of hamlet's father" scene. It is there, I suggest, that the play begins and we get the first glance of Serban's vision; a sort of surreal, audience-driven piece with its share of brilliance and mistakes.

Rather than go step by step through the play itself, it would be easier for me to critique the actors, who make the play what it is. Christian Camargo's Horatio begins the play with a weak entrance-bounding onto the stage, it seems, not really prepared to deliver his lines. However, as the play moves on and the bond between Hamlet and Horatio is more clearly emphasized, camargo grows stronger. He brings out the subtlety in an essential but often overlooked character-he plays both strong and terrified in equal measures. It is his chemistry with Liev that perhaps suits the play the best- he seems to play with subtleties more in the presence of his Hamlet, and he easily adjusts to the shift of power in those scenes, from Horatio to Hamlet to Horatio. A character who at first you were not pleased with ends up breaking your heart in the final scene.

Both Richard Libertini's Polonius and Colm Feore's Claudius are strong and consistent- they are perhaps two of the most consistent actors in this production. Colm Feore's Claudius, perhaps the most, is intriguing: just as Shakespeare intended (or as I believe Shakespeare intended) his pompousness and his larger-than-life quality are endearing, and he traps the audience in a web of questions: can we or can we not trust him? For those who know Hamlet well, from the get-go there is a struggle within you, not knowing whether to like him for his portrayal is so interesting or to hate him because you know the character. My only qualm would be that both Richard Libertini and Colm Feore seem obviously highly trained Shakespearan actors. Their voice inflection, their mannerisms are all very stylistic and in this out-on-a-limb production of Hamlet, they seem a touch out of place.

The entire supporting cast, I felt, was absolutely on, completely strong and wonderful. Barnardo and Marcellus made me interested in two of the plays much lesser characters, Rosencratz and Guildenstern didn't over do it but added humor and humanity in the most delightful way, all of the players were strong, even the player queen, whose staging was a bit awkward, managed to bring intrigue and mystery, as well as humor to the role. Serban's use of
humor, as well as the bright colors (in both sets and the way he clothed and the actors portrayed the characters) worked well, extremely well.

Unfortunately, this play seems to lack strong female power. Diane Venora (Gertrude) does not belong on the stage. I hate to insult an actress like this, but she simply is not suited for the role. All subtle sexuality of Gertrude is lost and she becomes a cartoonish depiction of a marriage gone awry and a nymphomaniac queen. Yet in places where sexuality should become evident, she seems to forget (i.e. the Hamlet/Gertrude bedroom scene) Her portrayal is unbelievable and way over the top-the character fluctuates, but only on the surface, and we can see very little inner-battle. Even her death, which should be perhaps tender (perhaps violent, depending on the actress) again becomes a cartoon, as she screams "The poison!" (or something to that effect.) Also, though her looks (she seemed very delicate) were perfectly suited for Ophelia, Lynn Collins simply failed to interest me. There were moments of over-acting, and some moments of brilliance (during the Ophelia-loses-her-mind scene, her song was unbelievable) the brilliance was just not brilliant enough. I kept expecting some incredible turn in Ophelia, and yet there was none.

To get my insults over with, i will simply mention other things that could have been changed before I move onto the high points (and they were very high) of the play. I could have done without the player coming in on a string, or Polonius' tape recorder (though it was hysterical) and without the strange portrayal of Fortinbras. However, some of the director's decisions, especially that of the actor playing Hamlet, were unbelievable.

I came into the Public expecting to be blown away, but to come away from it alright. To be able to leave my experience within the theater. Knowing the talent of Liev Schreiber even made me expect less, for I didn't want to judge his portrayal simply on the fact that I love him and know he has immeasurable talent. I tried to set myself up for disappointment, just to make sure I wasn't watching this in a biased manner in the least. Yet from the moment that Liev walked upon the stage, the entire feeling of the theater changed. the air grew thick, the audience was launched into an uncomfortable and beautiful place: the world of the Prince of Denmark. Liev, though innovative and new, in fact portraying this character as I've never seen it before, still stayed true to Shakespeare. It seemed that this
Hamlet-tortured, but sexual, depressed and manic but calm, knowing more than us, knowing less than us- was exactly what Shakespeare had imagined. I could see the bard himself hanging around Liev's mouth, smiling as his lips formed the words. Somehow, Liev managed to include the audience (especially in the "what a piece of work is man" speech) without letting the audience know it itself existed. His monologues were no longer "Shakespearen soliloquies" but some broken man, yet the strongest man we have ever seen, trying to work out his own neurosis in the play. The scenes with Ophelia became hysterical, but in an uncomfortable way. Though this production was hysterically funny at points, most of the laughter came out of the uncomfortable-ness of the audience. We were trapped in some alternate universe too close to our own psyche's and we knew that we had 2 hours and 10 minutes in the first act alone in which we could not escape it.

For some reason, though "to be or not to be," his death and other "classic" scenes from Hamlet were beautiful and so well acted that you forget you're seeing a play, I found for some reason the way Liev said "fie on it" (many, many times throughout the play) to be the most interesting thing. Sometimes there is one sentence that launches you into a different world.  Usually it is one of great weight and importance to life, and to the play. Now, don't get me wrong, the way that Liev delivered all of the soliloquies made me question myself. I walked out of there and still remain today, almost a week later, confused and humiliated because I do not know myself well enough, satisfied because I do, stuck and itching for more. His Hamlet crawled into my brain. But it was one of the most insignificant things, "fie
on it," that got to me-because it was so real. You could see him hurting. You could see his struggle with the concepts of life and death, action and inaction in that one line. And the way he delivered it each time he said it
(yes, i know, its not really a line, just kind of something said for emphasis), though consistent, you could see how Hamlet had changed. It was enthralling.

Some of Serban's innovations in this play were absolutely breathtaking. His use of humor in the directing, his going-against-the-grain (what a piece of work is man delivered not as a heavy speech but as a funny observation of
humanity via Rosencratz and Guildenstern) manner and his new takes on old scenes were unbeatable. I loved the Hamlet/Ophelia scene played in a pigs mask, and the use of both Ophelia and Hamlet, at times, as "puppets," almost.

The way the stage was set us created an easy way for characters to watch other scenes, and the presence of those characters onstage, almost at all times, was unbelievable. The "poor Yorick" scene was not overdone (as it usually is) and the reading of Hamlets letter to Claudius (which Liev did over a loudspeaker) was funny and created an interesting mood. I think the use of humor as a tool for the audience's (and hamlet's) self discovery and self doubt was ingenious. However, Serban's choice to put Claudius in the Jesus-on-the-cross crucifying position so many times throughout the play put me off-I felt as if I was being spoon-fed meaning. Otherwise, however, no matter how outlandish, Serban's choices were unique and fresh and I came out with not only a different look on Shakespeare but a different look on the world. The wet New York pavement suddenly was something else, the lights were
a different shade of light. I could not speak for nearly an hour after seeing this (and unfortunately snapped at my friend for trying to talk to me during the intermission, saying "goddamnit don't you know any better than to talk in the middle of HAMLET? its HAMLET for god's sake.." ..I had to apologize for that one..:)) It prepared me, actually, for an audition for a Shakespeare company the next day, for all I could think, entering the room was, "the
readiness is all. the readiness is all."

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