Theatre N16 12 – 30 June. Reviewed by Claire Roderick
Howard Barker’s twisted take on Hamlet shifts the focus onto Gertrude and her sexual power. I must admit that Hamlet bores the socks off me, some great speeches, but too much tedious waffling in between. Although a bum numbing 2 hours long with no interval, Barker’s play grips from the first shocking scene and doesn’t let up until the lights finally dim on the body-strewn stage.
Opening with the murder of Gertrude’s husband by his brother Claudius, swiftly followed by sex on top of his dead body, Gertrude’s lust and sexual appetite carry her from one tragedy to another, as the body count rises. Hamlet watches his mother and becomes more and more disgusted with her and his uncle’s behaviour, while Claudius’s mother Isola arranges Gertrude’s marriage to the Duke of Mecklenberg to tear her away from Claudius.
Chris Hislop’s production doesn’t flinch from the objectification of women by Barker, instead it revels in it and throws it at the audience to deal with as they choose. Izabella Urbanowicz prowls around the stage like a cat on heat and shows Gertrude’s turmoil brilliantly. The script is full of references to her legs, her skirt, her arse… as if this is all she is. Isola (Liza Keast) whose desperation to release Claudius from Gertrude’s clutches is born of perhaps recognising a kindred spirit in Gertrude, is manipulative, chiding and hypocritical, while Ragusa (LJ Reeves) is bland until the climactic final scenes. This would offend if the male characters were written as heroes, but Barker doesn’t seem particularly fond of men either. It would be hard to find a more pathetic bunch. Hamlet is a whining petulant brat (although played as frustratingly likeable by Jamie Hutchins, and having the lion’s share of the funniest lines), Claudius (Alexander Hulme – fantastic chemistry with Urbanwicz) is like a little boy who’s only happy when he’s stolen the other boys’ toys, Albert (David Zachary) is a bullying little toad who gets his own way because he’s got the biggest army. The only reasonably decent character is Cascan (Stephen Oswald in a wonderfully understated performance), observing and commenting on the morality and ridiculousness of the characters, but hiding his own lust for Gertrude behind a pathetic mask of servile devotion.
So, no tears for any deaths in this play then.
Designer Felicity Reid’s catwalk stage, and the sexualised images and music before the play begins enhance the atmosphere of a weird fashion show. Indeed, being on the front row is the golden ticket, as further back you miss one death and don’t see the final drops of a couple of corpses. Apart from that, this staging is a great idea, as the sex and nudity are right in your face, and by slightly raising your gaze, you observe other audience member’s differing reactions, adding another layer to the drama and sometimes making you question your own. Barker’s writing is filthy, funny, challenging and sometimes uncomfortable, and the fantastic cast bring his words to life with passion and energy.
Well worth a look – even for Shakespeare purists.