The Hamlet Project

That’s how you should do it, yes, faith.
All this shouting and flailing about
All this gesturing to one another’s genitals
All this thrusting of the pelvis to indicate a kind of joke,
To make us know it as sexual, to make us understand,
With a big neon sign, that this is lewd –
All of the beating of the breast, the grasping. . .
I don’t think it’s the way, There is no heart in it.
I can empathize, this outsize demonstration of big bold telegraphy choices
Is what we can fall into when we don’t know if we are okay.
When we think our words are not landing, when they’re not ours, really
And we have to broadcast the Shakespeare news, push past the truth of ourselves
And the things we could express heartily –
That is, from our hearts –
That’s the scary stuff.
And it takes a brave guide to pull an actor back from the shouting cliff
To speak gentle truths
To do less
Or more with less.
I have shouted, too. I have probably over-gestured. I have probably strained
Toward making that old joke understood. I know I have. And may again.
But I want to check myself, stop myself from doing it again if the occasion arises. Next time, I want the words to flow through me
Like water through a spout
Heartily – easily, with no force, no stop, no defense between me, my heart,
the words and the audience.