I love Hamlet. That is to say, “Hamlet” is my favorite of Shakespeare’s plays. I’ve lost count of how many productions of Hamlet I’ve seen, either live or on television or cinema. Of all, my favorite remains the version performed by Christopher Plummer. His Hamlet is not often mentioned among the best Hamlets, generally thought to include Laurence Olivier, Kenneth Branagh, Derek Jacobi, Richard Burton, David Tennant and other notable actors, including, surprisingly to some, Mel Gibson.
But I really liked Plummer’s Hamlet persona and thought he was especially good at claiming to be crazy while probably wondering if he really was or not. I found Olivier to be wimpy and Branagh to be too huffy and puffy.
Although some productions of Hamlet I’ve seen were downright bad (two at the Oregon Shakespeare Festival in past years come to mind), that hasn’t stopped me from buying tickets to new productions that come along. Most recently I attended a dance version of Hamlet that had its U.S. premier in Chicago. I hesitated. After all, what is Shakespeare without words? But then I remembered seeing the ballet of Romeo and Juliet at La Scala in Milan. I was shocked to find myself weeping as Juliet, in a grief-stricken dance, whirled Romeo’s body around her.
I remembered that words are not the only vehicle for expressing emotion. Turns out, the dancing Hamlet, Guillaume Côté, touched my soul too.
On Saturday, Dec. 7, I drove to South Bend, Ind., the home of the University of Notre Dame, to see a special program by a renowned Shakespearean actor. She used Shakespeare’s words to create a personal memoir. I thought that was an intriguing concept, enough that I willingly drove an hour to the Notre Dame theater.
Lisa Wolpe, founder of the all-women Los Angeles Women’s Shakespeare Company, has played nearly every leading role (both males and females) in Shakespeare during her career. Knowing Shakespeare’s words as well as she does, she was able to select strings of speeches, sonnets and soliloquies to express her response to multiple family traumas, including several suicides, in particular that of her Jewish father. He took his life after becoming a war hero fighting the Nazis that exterminated his family. She was 4 years old at the time.
Wolpe said her traumatic childhood gained some meaning and stability when at age 19 she discovered Shakespeare. Shakespeare’s reflections on the human condition helped her to sort out her own feelings. She crafted another way to appreciate Shakespeare deep understanding of humanity by using his powerful words for her memoir, part performance, part reflection.
Wearing black pants, shoes and vest, Hamlet’s customary attire, Wolpe weaved together Hamlet’s “To be or not to be” soliloquy with lines from other plays or poems. I easily recognized the bits from Hamlet and the sonnets, but guessed the origin of other lines. She switched easily from Shakespearean characters to being her own self, wrestling with questions about her father’s and her life.
Her performance received a well-deserved standing ovation. Before leaving the theater I spoke to her to offer her a glimpse of my relationship with Shakespeare. I was 13 when I first saw “Hamlet.” My grandmother had taken me to the Oregon Shakespeare Festival. I was electrified by Hamlet’s words and his strong emotions.
But in my family it was inconceivable that I would be allowed to speak my mind in the same eloquent way. My father was a violent alcoholic who allowed no other family members to express emotion, especially anger (at him).
I started memorizing Hamlet’s soliloquies and soon knew each one by heart. If ever I felt overwhelmed by the oppressive atmosphere of my home life, I let loose with Shakespeare’s words. My father thought I was merely trying to follow in his footsteps, since he often reminded us that he was a top Shakespeare student in college.
“I love that story,” said Wolpe as she brushed me off and turned to speak to other admirers from the audience.
Yeah, me too. It’s just another example of how Shakespeare saves lives: mine and Wolpe’s.
Leave a Reply