The play's the thing!

Before I disappear into a heady euphoria at England winning the Ashes (and after seven hours in a pub watching today, I would've have been slightly displeased had they lost, or gone onto a fifth day) I had better tell you about my day in London yesterday, when I went to see Jude Law in 'Hamlet'.

I know it's not a natural thought process - "Jude Law in 'Hamlet'" doesn't trip off the tongue like "Rufus Sewell in 'Hamlet'" might (ooh, now there's a thought), but it intrigued me enough to force me to buy tickets. I've been to see the entire Donmar West End season, which started with Kenneth Branagh in 'Ivanov', followed with Derek Jacobi in 'Twelfth Night', continued with Judi Dench in 'Madame de Sade' and concluded with 'Hamlet'. At £10 for the cheapest seats, it was well worth it, and I've had some real treats. With 'Hamlet', the biggest draw for me was the fact that Kenneth Branagh was supposed to be directing it, although he eventually pulled out to star in (and direct) 'Thor' .... odd choice.

Anyway, I persuaded my sister, Simon and a friend of his (Andrea) to come with me, and we all made our various ways to the theatre for the matinee, meeting out front about 15 minutes before curtain up. At it was the penultimate performance, there were scores of people queueing for returns (or standing seats - and yes, there were quite a few people doing that!).

I have never seen 'Hamlet' live - although I've seen plenty of film versions. I am ashamed to say I hate Laurence Olivier's performance; Mel Gibson was an odd choice (although Glenn Close as Gertrude is inspired); but of course my favourite is Kenneth Branagh's - and if you can find the four hour uncut version, it is well worth sitting in front of - if merely for the pleasure of John Gielgud and Judi Dench acting out the tragedy of Priam and Hecuba, with voice over of Charlton Heston as the Player King.

I digress. I think I have established that I had doubts about the logic of Jude Law's casting, and I have to confess that these were not entirely dispelled with his entrance. Of course, Hamlet doesn't get many lines in the first scene, and whilst talking to Claudius and Gertrude, he is too petulant to allow most actors to shine; but with the first soliloquy, I felt that this might just end up being a stellar performance. This was proved to be true when Hamlet meets the ghost of his father - that scene sent shivers down my spine. After that, the play simply flew. Those key scenes that are so important, and so familiar, were all done with impeccable timing, and helped along by the sparsity of the set.

Most of the visible stage was covered with black flagstones; about two thirds back, a great gate (like a front gate to a castle) was positioned on rollers, to be moved back and forth, so it could reveal or hide parts of the action. One door in the middle of the gate, and one either side, served to allow people from the 'outside' to enter. There were very few seats used throughout (five, I think in all, and those only in three scenes), and practically no backdrops. The beginning of Gertrude's confrontation scene with Hamlet was cleverly done, because instead of Polonius being hidden at the back of the stage, the arras was brought down front stage, so that Hamlet and Gertrude were hidden from view, and the audience had a clear view of Polonius listening in. When Hamlet stabbed him, he brought down the curtain in his death throes, and revealed the scene to the audience.

Now. This scene of Gertrude's is my favourite, because I love how it becomes the turning point for her, and her view of the whole situation, and in my view it's done best with little weeping. This wasn't the case here, and unfortunately (forgive me Simon) Penelope Wilton almost ruined it with an overly hysterical performance. However, when she got to the line 'Oh Hamlet, thou hast cleft my heart in twain', her whole manner dropped like a stone, and never was there a quieter and beautiful performance. Except perhaps for this one.

And again, I digress - it's getting late, sorry readers. So, they all died. And died very well in their various poisoned states; Fortinbras came in, claimed the kingdom, the curtain went down (stayed down for a while longer than usual, to give everyone time to get off the floor) and then rose to rapturous applause. Which went on and on, and there were lots of bows, although only two curtain calls (why, nowadays, are there only two curtain calls? What happens if there was a play, the best ever seen, and people were bowled over so much they just went on clapping, even after the lights were put up? Would there be more curtain calls, or just lonely people clapping? It's something that puzzles me).

So it ended, and an obvious trip to the stage door was agreed upon. Having got there, we found a crowd, in a neat (but expanding) semi circle. 'Is there a barrier?' my sister wondered. No - just good old fashioned British respect .... even though half the waiting people weren't English at all. Kevin McNally came out, as did Penelope Wilton; we were reliably informed that Jude Law never came out between shows (although I bet he sneaks out of a different entrance occasionally), Peter Eyre came out and hung around a while, and Fenella Fielding plus suitcase waited at the stage door for someone (and the person next to me said she is married to one of the actors, although I can't work out who!!!), and Anita Dobson went past on her way into the Noel Coward theatre, which is showing Calendar Girls. Starry eyes indeed!

So there we are - Jude Law's 'Hamlet', a success, methinks, even with its errors, and one worthy of being entered into the halls of fame. I'm always jealous of my father when he says he's seen something that was put on before I was born (Laurence Olivier and Maggie Smith's 'Othello' being one of them). Perhaps people in years to come will be jealous of this!!!

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One more thing, which I am slightly apprehensive of putting here, lest it be lost in my enthusiastic write up of 'Hamlet', and that is a piece of news about a book I loved, and which has been talked about all over the blogosphere. 'The Spare Room' by Helen Garner is to be adapted for the London stage by Eileen Atkins and will star Eileen herself and Vanessa Redgrave. Look out for it in 2010 - I know I'll be getting tickets!!!

Poem of the Week

In honour of it being St George's day and Shakespeare's birthday, here is a speech from Henry V, which manages to combine the both!

Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more;
Or close the wall up with our English dead.
In peace there's nothing so becomes a man
As modest stillness and humility:
But when the blast of war blows in our ears,
Then imitate the action of the tiger;
Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood,
Disguise fair nature with hard-favour'd rage;
Then lend the eye a terrible aspect;
Let pry through the portage of the head
Like the brass cannon; let the brow o'erwhelm it
As fearfully as doth a galled rock
O'erhang and jutty his confounded base,
Swill'd with the wild and wasteful ocean.
Now set the teeth and stretch the nostril wide,
Hold hard the breath and bend up every spirit
To his full height. On, on, you noblest English.
Whose blood is fet from fathers of war-proof!
Fathers that, like so many Alexanders,
Have in these parts from morn till even fought
And sheathed their swords for lack of argument:
Dishonour not your mothers; now attest
That those whom you call'd fathers did beget you.
Be copy now to men of grosser blood,
And teach them how to war. And you, good yeoman,
Whose limbs were made in England, show us here
The mettle of your pasture; let us swear
That you are worth your breeding; which I doubt not;
For there is none of you so mean and base,
That hath not noble lustre in your eyes.
I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips,
Straining upon the start. The game's afoot:
Follow your spirit, and upon this charge
Cry 'God for Harry, England, and Saint George!'

And when Love speaks, the voice of all the gods make heaven drowsy with the harmony.

I was thinking about those lines in books and plays that strike a chord with us, that make our hearts quicken, and cause those little moments of happiness. I have no idea why, but at this moment I'm in a hopelessly romantic mood ... no reason for this really. Anyway, are there certain lines that you read that just seem to sum up the notion of love and harmony for you? Or that you see, and think 'yes, that's a concept I want to hang on to'?

I'm not even sure what I'm driving at - I just feel like quoting Shakespeare. And who needs a proper reason for doing that?

Walking around the Actor's church in Covent Garden, there is a plaque to Vivien Leigh, with this epitaph on it:

"Now boast thee, death, in thy possession lies
A lass unparalleled."

It's from Antony and Cleopatra, and always manages to touch me when I see it.

'Make me a willow cabin at your gate,
And call upon my soul within the house;
Write loyal cantons of contemned love
And sing them loud even in the dead of night;
Halloo your name to the reverberate hills
And make the babbling gossip of the air
Cry out 'Olivia!' O, You should not rest
Between the elements of air and earth,
But you should pity me!'
- Twelfth Night

'Serve God, Love me, and mend'
Benedick - Much Ado About Nothing

'This day is called the feast of Crispian:
He that outlives this day and comes safe home,
Will stand a tip-toe when this day is named,
And rouse him at the name of Crispian.
He that shall live this day, and see old age,
Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,
And say, 'To-morrow is Saint Crispian:'
Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars,
And say, 'These wounds I had on Crispin's day.'
Old men forget: yet all shall be forgot,
But he'll remember with advantages
What feats he did that day. Then shall our names,
Familiar in his mouth as household words,
Harry the King, Bedford and Exeter,
Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester,
Be in their flowing cups freshly remembered.
This story shall the good man teach his son;
And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be rememberèd;
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile
This day shall gentle his condition:
And gentlemen in England, now a-bed
Shall think themselves accursed they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.'
- Henry V

'The words of Mercury are harsh after the songs of Apollo. You, that way: we, this way.'
- Love's Labours Lost

Trying to choose a favourite sonnet is like trying to choose which ice cream flavour to have, when every flavour in the world is offered. Here are a couple at random ....

What's in the brain that ink may character,
Which hath not figured to thee my true spirit,
What's new to speak, what now to register,
That may express my love, or thy dear merit?
Nothing sweet boy, but yet like prayers divine,
I must each day say o'er the very same,
Counting no old thing old, thou mine, I thine,
Even as when first I hallowed thy fair name.
So that eternal love in love's fresh case,
Weighs not the dust and injury of age,
Nor gives to necessary wrinkles place,
But makes antiquity for aye his page,
Finding the first conceit of love there bred,
Where time and outward form would show it dead.
- sonnet 108

Betwixt mine eye and heart a league is took,
And each doth good turns now unto the other,
When that mine eye is famished for a look,
Or heart in love with sighs himself doth smother;
With my love's picture then my eye doth feast,
And to the painted banquet bids my heart:
Another time mine eye is my heart's guest,
And in his thoughts of love doth share a part.
So either by thy picture or my love,
Thy self away, art present still with me,
For thou not farther than my thoughts canst move,
And I am still with them, and they with thee.
Or if they sleep, thy picture in my sight
Awakes my heart, to heart's and eye's delight.
- sonnet 47

I think I'll go to bed now. I've got quite a full weekend, what with selling books and going to Blenheim for a literary festival on Sunday, although Nicola Beauman of Persephone books has cancelled her talk, so I'll only be hearing Jane Austen's letters spoken aloud. Ample time to wander around the grounds though, and take a massive amount of pictures!!