While our Lit group was discussing some possible ideas for our new Hamlet filming project (something I'm ashamed to say I'm excited for--it gives me more time to procrastinate on the Invisible Man project), it became very clear what our challenge will be. Our goal that day was to get a main "gist" of what each character will be like, and then we can assign him a newer, modern version of that role. For instance, we labeled Gertrude a cold, heartless witch monkey, insert-derogatory-female-word-here, from the very beginning. It was nice to see her sweet and innocent and all in Kenneth Branaugh's version, but for some peculiar reason she never struck us as that type of lady. In a quick, concurring decision, Gertrude was going to be the nosy character that everybody loves to hate in the TV shows. Easy.
Next.
And it was that way for many of the characters we were planning on including except one-- one character that all of us unconsciously avoided, the elephant in the room, the main character--Hamlet. It seemed so easy for us to label all these characters that didn't go too much in depth in the story. Characters like Gertrude, Ophelia, Claudius, even Laertes, were easy to distinguish, label, and categorize into some sort of niche or cliche, no hard feelings. So why is it so hard to do Hamlet? As I sat there listening to all my classmates' great ideas for our reality show, the absence of a main character bugged me--not because I was worried we wouldn't find one, but that the sorting, the categorizing, didn't come as quickly as I had expected. It brought me back to the discussion we had with the post-it notes with some central questions as to Hamlet's being: Is Hamlet a philosopher or a moral judge? Is he an artist or a joker? Is he poison, or is that Claudius's role?
There are a million and one pieces of text evidence that can support and deny all of them. You can make a snap judgment and claim him a bearer of truth, but just as quickly find evidence of his fabulous acting skills within the majority of ACT III. Fine then, he's a liar and an actor. Just as well, but in ACT I he seemed to do quite well in morally judging his mother and Claudius as they festively drank to Claudius's kingship. As annoying of a brat he is, he's also complicated. He's multifaceted. And whether we want to believe it or not, we find a personal connection with Hamlet that we can't find in the more extreme characters, like Ophelia or Gertrude. Both ladies represent a more specific personality type that some, but not all of us, can connect with. Sure, I can sympathize with Gertrude's struggle in finding out what's wrong with her son; you could argue that she was just trying to be a good mother, finding the best for her son. But I can't forgive her for marrying her dead husband's brother--even though it isn't technically incestuous, it's a slap in the face in the name of the late King. No one our age, no one in our generation, could connect with that, face that same problem.
But with Hamlet, it's different. His personality splits off many ways, a paradoxical combination of good and bad, sweet and sour, dirty and clean. He's more human than the rest of them. His struggle of choice resides with our own struggles in making decisions throughout our lives. Do we not ask ourselves the same questions of being, of conscience and of choice? No, it isn't to Ophelia's extent to possible suicide. But it's there, isn't it, gnawing at our thoughts if we give them enough attention?
And with that, I look at Hamlet's empty space next to "Possible TV Show Character." Everybody else's slots are filled: evil b**** (Gertrude), innocent, dumb-blonde lover (Ophelia). How are you supposed to caricature a character who plays as a human? We'll figure that out soon enough.
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