Hamlet

The hand of little employment hath the daintier sense.

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Even when I am fully employed, I tend to have a daintier sense than most. It has always been thus. And it always felt as mocked as the word daintier suggests it is. I have been called “too sensitive” my whole life. I have come to learn that this sensitivity is not necessarily a flaw but a trait shared by a small but significant part of the population. That is – there is an official name for a person with a nervous system with this measurable daintiness. I am a Highly Sensitive Person. And it does have its advantages.

Today I can’t remember what those advantages are because I’m feeling overwhelmed, like a canary coughing in a coal mine, trying to get the world’s attention but knowing they won’t see the problem until I’m dead on the floor of the cage.

But there are advantages to this kind of sensitivity.

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Curiously though, I’m not at all troubled by a gravedigger singing while he digs graves. I think singing will help you in every troubling situation. I’m all for it. And my dainty sensibilities almost never got disturbed by theatre – I always know it’s pretend. In film though, I can’t even watch someone getting an injection without turning away.

‘Tis e’en so.

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We all do it. We chunk our information so we don’t have to think more deeply about things. We get satisfied with simple reductions of complex issues because we just would really rather not take the time to understand. I thought I was better than that but I am not. Not at all.

Has this fellow no feeling of his business, that he sings at grave-making?

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To the One Who Will Dig My Grave –

Please sing. Sing all manner of songs. You can sing drinking songs, songs of love, songs of hate, sea chanties, dirges, cantatas, hymns, nursery rhymes, dance tunes. Sing every song you know, if you have time. I’d hope that the notes would stick in the earth and keep me company there.
If you’re digging my grave, dig it with music.

He, being remiss, Most generous and free from all contriving, Will not peruse the foils;

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This is a curious analysis of Hamlet’s character. Especially by a man who sees him as an enemy. I mean, he is generous and he DOES fail to peruse the foils. But he is absolutely NOT free from all contriving. And surely Claudius knows this. Hamlet contrived to have the story of the murder of his father in front of the murderer. He contrived to escape a ship taking him to his death and not be spotted upon his return.
It is an extraordinary and interesting contradiction.

Hamlet

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Hamlet doesn’t bother with a sign off. He doesn’t say “Yours truly” or “Sincerely” or “Til tomorrow” or “thine as thou usest him” or “Thine evermore, most dear lady, whilst this machine is to him” as he wrote to Ophelia or “He that thou knowest thine” as he wrote to Horatio. He’s just like, “Hamlet.” Not “Prince of Denmark” or “your nephew” or even “That guy you tried to have killed but failed to.”

When I shall, first asking your Pardon thereunto, recount the occasion of my sudden And more strange return.

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I wonder what story Hamlet is planning on telling Claudius. Is it the pirate story? Or will he start with what he found in Rosencrantz and Guildenstern’s orders? Or will he start with, “So I know you killed my father…?”

In the end, he doesn’t really have time to recount all this stuff because their first re-encounter is over Ophelia’s dead body but I’m very curious about what Hamlet’s strategy would have been.

To-morrow shall I beg leave to see Your kingly eyes.

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There’s a director I’ve worked with, who cannot stand sarcasm on stage.
If I ever made a sarcastic choice, it was instantly rejected. I get it. But…this line right here, is just bedecked in sarcasm. Of course it can’t be played that way because it’s Claudius, it’s not Hamlet. But Hamlet is surely being a total smart ass when he talks about Claudius’ kingly eyes and surely Claudius knows it, too.

It’s the kind of thing that won’t get you convicted of king-bashing but will make your feelings clear.

Also – smart-ass Hamlet is my favorite Hamlet.

You shall know I am set naked on your kingdom.

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While it is super much fun to imagine a Hamlet running around the kingdom in his birthday suit, it’s likely that the nakedness is more a reflection of vulnerability than actual nudity.

An actual nude Hamlet would suggest the antic Hamlet, the Hamlet who is still playing the crazy card – but a metaphorically naked Hamlet is likely without his usual princely protections.

I suspect that this also suggests that he is alone and therefore without any of Claudius’ spies. If the ruse is that Rosencrantz and Guildenstern were protecting him on his trip to England, to be returned naked is to suggest that he’s returned without anyone controlling him or reporting on him.

Nakedness can also suggest a brand new start – a rebirth – a beginning again.

He that thou knowest thine, Hamlet.

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This line is so much more romantic than any of the ones Hamlet gives to Ophelia. Not anything from his letter that we hear read. Not any of his flirty lines while watching the play.
There is a sense that, until she’s dead, Hamlet demonstrates no real love for her. He resents her, teases her, condescends to her, manipulates her and insults her.
But Horatio, he loves without hesitation. The real romance in this play is between Horatio and Hamlet.