I find myself somewhat baffled by this analogy. I mean, I get it on the SAT level in that make-up is to a harlot’s cheek as Claudius’ painted word is to his deed. I get that they are both covering up ugliness, with surface beauty.

What’s baffling me is the “to the thing.” That is, is it that the make-up is personified and finds the face it is covering unattractive? Or is it “to” as in “compared to” that is, if we compare these things, the make-up is worlds away from the harlot’s cheek. Or – even more likely – the make-up (and skill of making up) are just as ugly as what it is covering up, that in covering ugliness, the plastering art becomes ugly, too, even though it seems beautiful.

I am also intrigued that two references to make-up happen in the same scene from two different characters. Is Hamlet somehow hearing this aside? And it inspires him to say something about make-up a little bit? Probably not – asides are generally not heard by other characters . . .but it’s an interesting possibility. It might undercut the tension of the Mousetrap somewhat, though.

Claudius seems to be quite sensitive to art. The Mousetrap brings him to his knees but this bit starts the ball rolling. Polonius gives this little speech that lashes at the King’s conscience, perhaps awakens it? The players pry open the crack that appears here in the king’s façade.

I like the notion of a Claudius who is so vulnerable to art, to words and to performance. There’s something to be mined there – like – are there paintings that he can’t look at?
Might we see him have a painting of a famous fratricide removed? Might we see him listening to a piece of music and struck to the heart by it?
There’s something about seeing Claudius besieged by Art and then making a choice to proceed as he does.
It would be funny, too, if Hamlet somehow had a sense of this and set up all kinds of art experiences to try and draw the king out. Hamlet could commission paintings, compositions and dances, all to get responses from King Claudius.

I’ve been drawing spirals for the last ten minutes. I find myself entirely uninspired by this line. Often the shorter, simpler lines give me some sort of odd boost but today it just sent me spiraling. What is too true in my life? Too too too many things.

How is this line in the play? Well, it’s small talk, really. It’s the King’s masking line. It’s an “indeed.” Or “Yes.” With some extra oomph. It’s Claudius saying something to hide the impact of hearing the previous line in his awakening conscious. His devil is breaking out of its sugar shell and he is talking to cover it.

Or, he’s just starting to feel the truth and cannot help but speak it out now.

Lawful espials, huh? This language does have the air of the lawyer about it. It has the sort of formal tone, the equivocation, of someone attempting to sound very reasonable. Lawful espials (espials, instead of spys, somehow makes it more lawful?)

Frankly judge, gather. . .are all more words than are strictly necessary to say, “We’re going to watch him with Ophelia.”

Seems to me that Gertrude wasn’t particularly sold on this explanation for Hamlet’s behavior. She’s thinking it’s more a death and remarriage of his parents situation than a “my girlfriend returned my letters” situation. So it does seem very possible that Claudius is working hard to convince her. What was Claudius’ job before King? Was he perhaps the royal legal counsel?

How in the world could Hamlet not be on to those guys? Claudius summons Hamlet to this spot. When Hamlet turns up, no one’s there. Does the King often summon people to a place where he isn’t going to be? Seems pretty fishy. Then Ophelia just happens to turn up? After Hamlet’s done a pretty bang-up job of setting up his “madness” gambit with Ophelia and playing Polonius like a lunatic violin? Seems like a recipe for suspicion. I find it hard to believe Hamlet doesn’t suspect that Claudius and Polonius are there from the beginning. Might he be looking for them throughout?

He’s probably doing a command performance all the way from the big speech to the nunnery bit. Could the entire nunnery scene be a gambit to bring Polonius out of hiding? In other words, the more abusive he is to Ophelia, the more likely Polonius would be to reveal himself.

Of course, Polonius doesn’t. He stays hidden. Hamlet clearly suspects Claudius of hiding – given the sword he puts through the curtain in the closet scene later. But I imagine they’ve all done their share of lurking. I’d like to see a version of this scene wherein we see Hamlet performing for his audience of spies, when we see him adjust his position to give them a better view, where he asks Ophelia where her father is and she tells him with her eyes while she says, “At home” and Hamlet adjusts their physicality to give Polonius the better view. Kenneth Branagh’s Hamlet does that a little bit. It’s one of my favorite things about that version.

Why does Claudius send Gertrude away here? What, she can’t spy on her son with his girlfriend, too? Is it a men’s only Spy Club? Or maybe the thing they’re planning to hide behind is only big enough for two? Or is spying only men’s work?

When I played Gertrude (age 22) I got upset with Claudius for sending me away but only because he was sending me away as if I were a servant or Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. And we either cut the speech after this line or I wasn’t really thinking about what was happening here. Now in reading this, it seems possible that the reason the king is still talking is that he feels like he needs to win the Queen over – that somehow he’ll be able to provide an explanation that will satisfy or pacify here.

I find it curious that she says, “I shall obey you” in response. She’s not endorsing the plan at all, just agreeing to do what her husband is asking her to do.
This makes this whole section a lot more interesting – if, rather than being a simple announcement of a plan, it is a negotiation between two complex married people who have to negotiate a thing – things any other married people do, royal or no.

I’m curious about this further edge. I picture it like someone standing on a plate and you tip the plate slowly farther and farther until you are standing on the edge. If the edge goes far enough, it could really only send a person in one direction, thus driving a person in some particular direction.

Lately I feel like I’m on a plate like that, Art is tipping me toward the further edge, toward an inevitable leap or fall. I scramble against the porcelain trying to get my footing but the edge is definitely coming.

I try to imagine a world wherein a parent might be pleased to hear his child was interested in theatre. Maybe if everyone worked for a company like Footsbarn and Theatre was the Family Business and therefore being interested in theatre meant staying in the fold, maybe that would be good news.

If I had a child and he or she let me know that theatre was his or her calling, I’m pretty sure I would sigh deeply. Because there would be some inevitability in that interest probably. Probably the love for it would travel through my genes and into anyone I passed them to, no matter how much I’d hope otherwise. It would be like passing along an addiction on some level. You’d understand why this thing has a powerful hold on someone and also recognize how powerless anyone would be to stop it.

Did my own parents ruefully watch my love affair with theatre unfold? Were they constantly hoping I’d come to my senses? Are they still?

It’s too late. There can be no intervention. I’ve hit bottom many times over and yet I keep coming back for more. I’m lost to the art forever.

I’m interested in this phrase about Hamlet PUTTING ON his confusion.

Is Claudius on to Hamlet? Does he know he’s faking madness? And if so, does he know why?
If he suspects, does he think Hamlet would tell Rosencrantz and Guildenstern about it?

And what if Hamlet had said, “Yeah guys, you know, you’re right. I have, of late, lost all my mirth. And I’ll tell you the fuck why. That king that hired you to spy on me actually killed my motherfucking father and I know it’s true because my murdered father’s ghost told me so. Now guys, it’s up to you: do you want to tell the king the real reason I’m upset? Do you guys want to accuse him of murder to his face? Because I’ll tell you, if he DID it, he’s not going to want to ever see your faces again and he will probably make sure that no one ever does. If he didn’t do it (a possibility I think is SUPER SLIM) he’ll be insulted and probably have you at least thrown in the dungeon if not actually executed for suggesting it.
Anyway that’s what’s actually going on with me. Share whatever you’d like with His Highness.”

We will try it.

For over a decade, we have been trying to just make good work. But good work has seldom been rewarded. I learned this weekend that much more than good work will be required to extract ourselves from this ghetto of the arts we have found ourselves in. While the notion of becoming a saleswoman for my art is deeply repugnant to me, I see that it may be what is required to garner any kind of attention in the greater world. It will require slick marketing materials. It will require banners and flyers. It will require agents and managers. It will require substantial investment in bells and whistles. It may cost more than the making of the show. It may cost me my soul. But we will try it.