The Hamlet Project

When I started this project, oh lo those many many years ago, I thought an opportunity to play him could legitimately be in my future. Was it ten years ago now? I had no idea which way the wind might blow. I wanted to play him, that I knew – but since then, I have done very little performing. A show here and there sure, but not so’s you’d see someone with access to a show budget giving me the chance to take on the role we all long to play.

And I may be too old now. I already had the gender against my odds – but now I’m not only a woman but a woman who is older than the character by more than a year or two. But. I’d never say never. Never is a big word. I’d say probably not Hamlet in this lifetime.

Was’t Hamlet wrong’d Laertes?

Yeah. Kinda.

I mean – if it’s not Hamlet – then who did wrong Laertes?

I mean – I get Hamlet’s attempt to disassociate himself from his actions here – but he’s essentially trying the Shaggy defense here.

“But you stuck your sword in my Dad’s guts.”

“It wasn’t me.”

“There’s a witness.”

“Wasn’t me.”

“You confessed.”

“Wasn’t me.”

“You dragged and hid his body.”

“Wasn’t me.”

Is saying “this presence” a way to avoid naming Claudius specifically? Like, would he have to name the king in a collection of people otherwise? Is “this presence” a way to not say, “The King, the Queen and all these other people here”?

I like “this presence” as a collective of people. It’s more potent than “group” or “crowd” or “people” even.

I would almost like to call an audience “this presence” – because their presence is what makes the especially significant – how they are present tells us so much about them. It somehow sounds more alive than audience or the public or spectators.

I have just noticed that he’s speaking to Laertes with the formal “you” – so while he may be giving him a directive, he is using a highly respectful form of address. Certainly, as the Prince of Denmark, he is entitled to call his peers “thou” – but he doesn’t in this instance. This may, in fact, be a sort of standard formal request for pardon.

He’s not kidding. He has done Laertes wrong. Like – there’s not even a question. He has unquestionably behaved badly.

Sometimes characters do things that could be justified from some other perspective – like, sure, I broke your sister’s heart but it was for the greater good or whatever.

In this case, he behaved like an ass at Ophelia’s grave and that would SEEM to be what he’s apologizing for – being a self-important narcissistic selfish ass – but he has ALSO killed this guy’s dad in a kind of ignoble manner – which is probably the worse sin. They both know that. And maybe they are pretending to talk about the grave leaping when they are, in fact, talking about the murdering.

It’s interesting how demanding this is. He doesn’t ASK for Laertes’ pardon, he expects it. He’s using the imperative. It’s almost an order or demand. He doesn’t say “Please” – he doesn’t qualify this request in any way.

He asks for a pardon the way a lot of people order coffee. “Give me a cappuccino.”

But then, he is a Prince. He is not built to ask for things; he is built to command.
That he should want a pardon for himself is probably a bit of a hit for his princely status.

This line tends to be said in a sort of philosophical manner, like zen, like “when I find myself in times of trouble – let it be,” sort of thing. But I wonder if it might be a little less static if before this line Horatio makes a move as if he’s going to go stop this nonsense, given how fatalistically Hamlet is talking. In that case, “Let be” is one final plea to keep Horatio from interfering, rather than a monkish philosopher king intoning wisdom with his legs crossed and his fingers in a yoga pose.

Nobody has anything when they leave. No one takes a percentage of their stuff when they make their exit – so given that we all have it all on the table, it doesn’t matter when we go. We take the same amount with us whether we make our exits early or late. It’s really just a matter of what gets left behind.