We did a staged reading with a text that we needed to return pristine if we planned on not spending dollars.
Normally, I’d mark a text up. Note some accents, some places to breathe, highlight my lines, etc – but money’s tight and I don’t need a tiny folio version of this particular play. So I didn’t. Mark it.
And I lost my place many times. My eyes glazed over as soon as performance energy took me over. I could have used all the help I could have gotten.
So next time, dollars aside, I’ll mark the play.
You are naught, you are naught.
And suddenly I understand where we get the word naughty.
Naught being nothing certainly can quickly lead to being naughty.
We only use naughty with children and with dirty stuff these days. It’s a funny word. It has a sort of odd affection embedded in it.
Children who are naughty are also love-able
And when someone tells a naughty joke it is also a little bit mischievously charming. Like, a little bit more Benny Hill than Andrew Dice Clay.
And naught? Hardly ever hear it, except in Shakespeare, anymore.
Be not you ashamed to show, he’ll not shame to tell you what it means.
Given Ophelia’s response to this, it’s possible that this is meant to be a little ribald, maybe a little personally suggestive.
He’s using the formal You, so it’s got some distance but it’s a directive so it does seem aimed at our fair Ophelia. And what exactly could he be suggesting she show without shame? Something it might be funny for the prologue to explain.
Why on earth is he making jokes like this to the woman he just broke up with?
Ay, or any show that you will show him.
A compelling case of logorrhea
He will remain mute of all subjects
Until you show him a show
Then he suddenly cannot stop talking
He will explain every detail
Make sure you’ve missed nothing
Will place the whole thing in its theatrical framework
Or its artistic movement.
No plot point left unturned
No character left unanalyzed
No prop left unsymbolized
No metaphor left unpacked.
He is a prologue machine
And will discourse on anything
So long as it’s a show.
Will ‘a tell us what this show meant?
Maybe this is why I find it hard to like Ophelia. Generally, people who want their art spelled out for them make me a little crazy. While looking at a painting, watching a modern dance, listening to a concert, they cannot rest until they know what it means. They’re a bit like those people who can’t wait for the film to answer its own questions. “But who killed him?” They’ll ask in a murder mystery. We don’t know. That’s why we are continuing to watch this murder mystery.
I remember having some trouble enjoying modern dance at first. Because I was trying to make meaning where there wasn’t meant to be. I didn’t have the context. I wanted it to be a story. Sometimes I think having some comfort with art that does not explicitly mean things is a sign of maturity.
They’ll tell all.
She was complaining about the management’s surveillance of the place. All the employees are under constant video surveillance by the owner, at his home. And as an employee myself at this institution, I can tell you that the employees are not informed about this surveillance. I’m not sure this is legal.
But anyway –
She said, “I’m happy to tell him anything he wants to know. You want to know something about me? Ask me.” And then proceeded to describe a scenario in which she told him at exactly what time she usually went #2 and that it is a floater.
She really will tell all. Even if you don’t ask her.
I generally will not tell all. I will tell more than many would expect, though.
The players cannot keep counsel.
Players can be incredible gossips. But probably anyone can be. They can also keep some serious secrets under wraps when they want to. The number of times I’ve found out that some relationship developed right under my nose is really quite extraordinary. When working on a show, the experience is so intimate, so full of intense togetherness, it can feel like there are no secrets, that everyone knows everything about one another. But – sometimes that is an illusion.
I thought of a theatre company, known for its group aesthetic, for being open and edgy and experimental and what not. In other words, they are a company that would seem not to keep secrets. But when one of their own proved to be a bully, proved to be the sort that would give his girlfriend and fellow cast member a black eye, the secrets started closing in around them. They keep this counsel. They keep it close.
We shall know by this fellow.
The stage direction is: Enter the Fourth Player as Prologue.
Which along with this line, makes me wonder if there is some sort of accepted Prologue costume or prop.
Like, if a guy comes out in a tabard and a pointy hat, everyone knows he’s the Prologue.
Or he wears a little chalkboard around his neck that reads “Prologue.” Or maybe the prologue wears a wizard robe with plot points pinned to it so he doesn’t forget. It feels like there is some signal that this guy is going to give us a prologue speech. In much the same manner that if a guy in a top hat and tails emerges at a circus, we assume he will be the ringmaster. Or if a woman appears in a bikini at a boxing match, we assume she will be telling us what round we’re in.
What those signals are for this particular position, I don’t know – but it would seem there is SOMETHING.
Belike this show imports the argument of the play.
Answering your own question, are you, Ophelia?
Ask a madman a question, get a mad answer, I guess. But – this is where I’m not entirely sure why Ophelia asks for the meaning of the show – since she’s clear on what it was. She’s got it worked out pretty well, so her question might reference some other “this” entirely – an action perhaps, a gesture.
She’s like, “No, Hamlet – it’s not mischief. It’s a plot summary. It’s a dumb show. We all know it’s not miching mallecho.”
Except of course it is mischief – but no one knows that but Hamlet and Horatio.
Even Claudius doesn’t seem to figure out the mischief bit. He just gets hit with it – straight into his conscience, straight into his guilt ridden guts.
It means mischief.
I like a show that means mischief- a show that stirs up trouble. But trouble of a playful sort. A lot of shows mean to be edgy, to raise eyebrows and such – but with no laugh behind the eyes.
I want to see more mischievous shows. I want to see shows that, if they’re going to fuck with you, they’re going to fuck with you in a way that makes everyone smile. A show that plays with you like Robin Goodfellow – obnoxious, sure, but usually also adorable – and with no long term deleterious effects.
The Hamlet Project 