The Off-Broadway Theatre Review: Public Theater/Shakespeare in the Park’s Hamlet

By Ross

A quartet of mourners harmonizes gloriously, singing about a time to break down and a time to build. It’s a telling reformation, signaling that we are not in 16th-Century Denmark anymore, but somewhere down in Southern Georgia. The shift feels right. No surprise here as we watch director Kenny Leon (Broadway’s Topdog/Underdog), after his revelatory Much Ado About Nothing, also at the Public’s Delacorte, sink his vantage point into a re-angled “murder most foul” with a strong, confident strut, embodied most beautifully by his intense Hamlet, Ato Blankson-Wood (Broadway’s Slave Play), and the revealing entrance of the well-cast Warner Miller (Broadway’s The Piano Lesson) as his Horatio.

The framework is big and loud, with a slanted-door funeral followed within a blink of a month-long eye by a marriage, a pseudo-royal one that doesn’t disappoint, thanks to some great costuming by Jessica Jahn (Public’s Coal Country). It’s reminiscent of his previous Shakespeare in the Park outing, thanks to the work of set designer Beowulf Boritt (Broadway’s POTUS), with lighting by Allen Lee Hughes (Broadway’s Ohio State Murders) and sound design by Justin Ellington (2ST/Broadway’s Clyde’s). His off-balanced sinking Southern mansion and his collision course pool of water sit suggestively on that beautiful wide stage, giving off an energy of hurricane proportions or a party gone wrong. It’s a captivating visual, but oddly enough, it is merely a backdrop that has pretty much nothing to do with what happens before it. It gives you a sense of place for this classic tragedy of a princely son caught inside himself as he struggles with revenge and honor, but why there is a big SUV dead-ended in a pond is a question never answered. It is ignored, as I guess we should too, but the contemporary reassignment is key to the production, and even though not pushed hard into our laps, the slightly edited essence of what is being staged here, in “our country is a prison” rather than in Denmark’s, is a slanted angle worthy of our attention. Even if the surrounding isn’t reflected in the play before it.

The cast strides strong on that overly complicated stage, almost begging for a more simple backdrop so we can focus on the formula being played with. Each actor finds the space and deliverance to unpack their role in this timeless play. John Douglas Thompson (Broadway’s Jitney) as Claudius and Lorraine Toussaint (Taper’s Stuff Happens) as his newly married Queen, Gertrude, find their royal weight in every scene they inhabit, unpacking Shakespearean language almost effortlessly for our engagement. Blankson-Wood as Kenny Leon’s star Hamlet finds his footing in the fantastical swings of thought and mood, although I never really found myself lost inside his emotional head. It’s all there, happening before us, delivering the difficult and numerous soliloquies with verve and a focused force, but in a way, we aren’t invited in. His indecision hangs heavy over his heart and soul, diving into the text and truth with a strong force and fervor, but the tearful rage in his eyes for some reason held me one step removed. And not completely enthralled.

Everything is broken around him, that is clear, but it is also unfocused in its clumsy and distracting showing of an American world sinking into the earth. So much is unused and not referred to, as is this Hamlet, that suggests something strong and dedicated, but rarely emotionally connects. That is except for that magical possession, instead of visitation, of Hamlet’s body by his father’s ghost, lip-syncing for his life to the voice of Samuel L. Jackson against a backdrop of mostly captivating convulsion projections, courtesy of designer Jeff Sugg (Public/Broadway’s Sweat). It’s a thrilling added layer of introspection that flies out into the night air, finding a unique slice of drama in the tried and true. Just like the ghostly walk of Ophelia, captivatingly portrayed by Solea Pfeiffer‘s understudy, Safiya Harris (Ars Nova’s Death of Hayden Waverly), down deep into her grave in front of her grieving brother. Talk about a great exit.

That punch to the gut, felt so strongly by the impressive Nick Rehberger (Broadway’s The Glass Menagerie) as Ophelia’s heartbroken and angry brother, Laertes, is when this Hamlet feels its emotional power. Unpacking a connection that feels honest, clear, and not so obviously embodied. Daniel Pearce (Public’s Mother of the Maid) also brings clever sharpness as this ridiculous father, Polonius. His performance shines strong and decidedly funny, opposite in humor to his son, but equally expert in the delivery.

Those two moments are the highlights of this generally fine rendering of this epic piece of Shakespearean storytelling. The songs, courtesy of Jason Michael Webb (Broadway’s MJ) expand and are interpreted gorgeously, elevating the space above the chaotic structuring. The themes of the play; unexplained madness, melancholy, grief, and the confusion that comes with it, hang well in the night air, but somehow never fully enter the heart completely.

This is the final Shakespeare in the Park production before the Delacorte Theatre undergoes a massive 18-month renovation, and this basically fine production reveals itself to be underwhelming even as it attempts to say so much. There is nothing rotten in this rendered state of Denmark/Georgia, but there isn’t enough invention to stay bound to my brain long after I made my way out of the park. Nothing like when I saw The Public‘s Fat Ham on Broadway. Now that modern reformist approach stuck strong long after the curtain came down. Some sharpening skills might be needed to make a classic Hamlet resonate as emotionally clear as that stellar reorganizing.