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Chicago
Sun-Times
January 18, 1991
Hamlet
3½
stars
reviewed by Roger Ebert
I
had a professor in college who knew everything there was to know about
"Romeo and Juliet." Maybe he knew too much. One day in class he
said he would give anything to be able to read it again for the first
time. I feel the same way about "Hamlet." I know the play so
well by now, have seen it in so many different styles and periods and
modes of dress, that it's like listening to a singer doing an old
standard. You know the lyrics, so the only possible surprises come from
style and phrasing.
The style of Franco Zeffirelli's "Hamlet," with Mel Gibson in
the title role, is robust and physical and - don't take this the wrong way
- upbeat. Gibson doesn't give us another Hamlet as Mope, a melancholy Dane
lurking in shadows and bewailing his fate. We get the notion, indeed, that
there was nothing fundamentally awry with Hamlet until everything went
wrong in his life, until his father died and his mother married his uncle
with unseemly haste. This is a prince who was healthy and happy and could
have lived a long and active life, if things had turned out differently.
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Part of that approach may come from Zeffirelli, whose famous film version
of "Romeo and Juliet" also played on the youth and
attractiveness of its characters, who were bursting with life and romance
until tragedy separated them. The approach also may come from Gibson
himself, the most good-humored of contemporary stars, whose personal style
is to deflect seriousness with a joke, and who doesn't easily descend into
self-pity and morose masochism. He gives us a Hamlet who does his best to
carry on, until he is overwhelmed by the sheer weight of events.
Zeffirelli sets his film in a spectacular location - a castle on an
outcropping of the stark coast in northern Scotland, perched on top of a
rock nearly surrounded by the sea. There is mud here, and rain and mist,
and the characters sometimes seemed dragged down by the sheer weight of
their clothing. This is a substantial world of real physical presence,
fleshed out by an unusual number of extras; we have the feeling that this
throne rules over real subjects, instead of existing only in Shakespeare's
imagination.
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Right at the outset, Zeffirelli and his collaborator on the shooting
script, Christopher De Vore, take a liberty with "Hamlet" by
shifting some dialogue and adding a few words to create a scene that does
not exist in the original: The wake of Hamlet's father, with Hamlet,
Gertrude and Claudius confronting each other over the coffin. In film
terms, this scene makes the central problem of "Hamlet"
perfectly clear, and dramatically strengthens everything that follows. It
sets up not only Hamlet's anguish, but the real attraction between his
mother and his uncle, which is seen in this version to be at least as
sexual as it is political.
The cast is what is always called "distinguished," which usually
but not always means "British," includes at least three actors
who have played Hamlet themselves: Alan Bates, as Claudius; Paul Scofield,
as the ghost of Hamlet's father, and Ian Holm, as Polonius. Holm is
especially effective in the "to thine own self be true" speech,
evoking memories of his great work as the track coach in "Chariots of
Fire," and I enjoyed Bates' strength of bluster and lust, as a man of
action who will have what he desires and not bother himself with the sorts
of questions that torture Hamlet.
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Stephen
Dillane and Mel Gibson
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Stephen Dillane
and Helena
Bonham Carter
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The women of the play, Glenn Close, as Gertrude, and Helena Bonham-Carter,
as Ophelia, are both well cast. Close in particular adds an element of
true mothering that is sometimes absent from Gertrude. She loves her son
and cares for him, and is not simply an unfaithful wife with a short
memory. Indeed, there are subtle physical suggestions that she has loved
her son too closely, too warmly, creating the buried incestuous feelings
that are the real spring of Hamlet's actions. Why has she remarried with
such haste? Perhaps simply so the kingdom's power vacuum will be filled;
she seems a sensible sort, and indeed everyone in this version seems
fairly normal, if only Hamlet could rid himself of his gnawing resentment
and shameful desires long enough to see it.
Bonham-Carter is a small and darkly beautiful actress who is effective at
seeming to respond to visions within herself. As Ophelia she has a most
difficult role to play, because a character who has gone mad can have no
further relationship with the other characters but must essentially become
a soloist. All of her later scenes are with herself.
That leaves Hamlet and his best friend, Horatio (Stephen
Dillane), as those who are not
satisfied with the state of things in the kingdom, and Dillane, with his
unforced natural acting, provides a good partner for Gibson. As everything
leads to the final sword fight and all of its results, as Hamlet's natural
good cheer gradually weakens under the weight of his thoughts, the movie
proceeds logically through its emotions. We never feel, as we do sometimes
with other productions, that events happen arbitrarily. Zeffirelli's great
contribution in "popularizing" the play has been to make it
clear to the audience why events are unfolding as they are.
This "Hamlet" finally stands or falls on Mel Gibson's
performance, and I think it will surprise some viewers with its strength
and appeal. He has not been overawed by Shakespeare, has not fallen into a
trap of taking this role too solemnly and lugubriously. He has observed
the young man of the earlier and less troubled scenes, and started his
performance from there, instead of letting every nuance be a foreshadow of
what is to come. It's a strong, intelligent performance, filled with life,
and it makes this into a surprisingly robust "Hamlet."
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