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Spent the first half an hour recasting the RSC's Hamlet. Jonathan Slinger wears the sort lumpy suit you see an accountant wear, he looks like a dad trying to pull off retro glasses whereas the youthful, sparky Horatio (Alex Waldmann), supposedly his university friend seems like a shoe-in for the part of the troubled mature student.

After Hamlet has encountered the ghost, the spectacles come off and the suit is exchanged for the trademark dishevelled clothing and mismatched socks. (Not sure we need psychiatrists any more just institutionalise anybody who can't pull their socks up to the same height or put their clothes on the right way around).

Ironically the suit is the straight jacket in this scenario, without it Slinger's performance becomes freer and more interesting. His is probably the most mad Hamlet I've seen but mad with anger just as often as with lost faculties.


He is particularly nasty to Ophelia, who is played brilliantly by Pippa Nixon as slightly bookish but he needs to be in order to better explain how she in turn looses her marbles. At her graveside his grief for her seems more petulant, a way of getting one over Laertes (Luke Norris) rather than for a lost love. Perhaps another strong indicator that he has in fact lost it.

If indeed madness, it gives him a unfeeling, remorseless edge seemingly unperturbed by his murder of Polonius (Robin Soans) and acquiescing to Laertes request for forgiveness almost dismissively. It makes it harder to understand why Horatio wants to die with his princely friend.

It is this disturbed, disconnected Hamlet that perhaps sets this production apart from others but it isn't enough to make it particularly memorable. Slinger's performance felt sort of appropriate for his age but despite his extreme talent his Hamlet is just too old. It makes the set up of the story harder to swallow.

Insight into some of the characters motivation was also left wanting. Greg Hicks gives Claudius a swagger that suggests an arrogance and cockiness but there is little else to suggest his motivation for going for the glamourously dressed but nonetheless mumsy looking Gertrude (Charlotte Cornwall). Neither is there any clue as to her motivation for the marriage. 

It left me mentally writing my own direction for the characters; I'd have Hicks obviously feigning love for Gertrude while trying to bed the younger female courtiers, a power play and nothing more. Gertrude has been blinded by his motives.

But back to David Farr's production. For me it felt a little too safe and not quite as interesting or dramatic as Hamlet can be which, in turn, comes back to my re-casting. Alex Waldmann has proved a more than capable Shakespearean actor and having followed him from the Hamlet matinee into an evening performance of Orlando in As You like It I was even more convinced.

His boyish looks for his 35-years would have immediately made for an interesting play. I'm just getting bored of seeing actors who look like they would have long ago been forced into a politically advantageous marriage to a wife who is producing heirs playing at being a student. (I can bore for England on my reasons why Hamlet is actually younger than the play seems to state and works better as a result).

Talking to an Australian lady about Alex Waldmann she commented that as soon as she saw him she wished he'd been playing the lead and I couldn't have agreed more with her. So this is my plea to the RSC, take a punt on Waldmann but sooner rather than later. Oh and best friend Jen and I have a request for Othello for next year's annual Stratford outing please. Thank you.

RS/BW 6DS

There are a few but Pippa Nixon is my favourite. The first play I saw her in was the wonderful Bea at the Soho Theatre with Al Weaver who shared the role of Hamlet with Mr W.

Recently seen

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5 responses to “Review: Jonathan Slinger’s Hamlet for the RSC and who I think should have played the lead”

  1. Nadine avatar
    Nadine

    Hamlet is such a whiny self-pitying mard-arse at times and has such a Mummy-complex that he just HAS to be barely out of adolescence? Personally there are bits which I think should be subtitled “The Kevin Years”. Hamlet, for heaven’s sake lad: run your ‘orrible stepdad through with a sword, leave your menopausal, guilt-ridden mother to her own devices and go and give Ophelia a right good seeing to. Job done.

  2. Padre avatar
    Padre

    I saw this last night. I watched Jonathan Slinger in “All’s Well That Ends Well” and he was the stand-out actor during that production so I had hopeful expectations of his Hamlet. Sadly, you’re right. He is too old. And I was not convinced by his performance at all – his lasting impression that this was Hamlet performed as an 11 year old Gordon Brittas. I’m gutted.

  3. Rev Stan avatar

    Hi Nadine, apologies meant to reply when I first read your comment, it did make me laugh. I have similar thoughts about The Cherry Orchard ie just sell the frickin’ cherry orchard, you’ll have money, you can stop whinging.

  4. David Sowter (Horatio, Colchester RGS '54) avatar
    David Sowter (Horatio, Colchester RGS ’54)

    It is him! I am sure of it. Marcellus has doubled up as one of the travelling players. Two give-away signs, really. The clack of his black brogues and the rapid rate with which they clack. Marcellus was present in Act One Scene One as the ghost of Old Hamlet appeared to him, Horatio and Bernardo. He rushed about then and he rushes about now. One admires the energy, the commitment, but one wishes one could hear the dialogue as well.
    I have driven 152 miles from Essex to be here in Paradise, the Royal Shakespeare Company Theatre. It took two and a half hours, plus 38 minutes finding somewhere to park, of which more anon. This is Thursday, 15th August 2013 and this day will be the defining ecstasy of my 75th year. Since I played Horatio at school at the age of 17, I have yearned to see the play done by professional actors. This is it. I booked two £39 tickets in October 2012, and never saw them since. No great matter, as they printed them out again on the night. I only use one as nobody could (or wanted to?) join me.
    The main male characters appear in formal modern suits but I see no ties. Claudius in double-breasted shiny grey mohair, Laertes in grey, his father Polonius in a dove-grey morning suit and Hamlet in black. Marcellus is as smart as the sinister bodyguards and seems to want to dress above his station. Many will be in army uniform, including Fortinbras. Other males will appear in pullovers, jerkins and chinos. These include Rosencrantz and Guildenstern with their suitcases as well as Horatio. The ghost is in full armour, cap-a-pie, ash-white and much resembling his brother Claudius. Osric is in a stunning ensemble with badged blazer and cap. He does it justice.
    As for the ladies, Queen Gertrude has plenty of fine silk about her in jewel colours while Ophelia favours more natural hues and textures.
    We are in a fencing hall, whose roof has skylights streaked with rusty rain. The overhead lights are terribly bright and a golf cap is de rigueur for those spectators aiming to avoid bedazzlement. The actors’ area centres upon a fencing strip a yard or so wide. So much for the scene and the apparel.
    You know the story. Old Hamlet is killed by his brother Claudius who takes his crown and his queen. Hamlet finds evidence of the crime and proves it by mounting a play. Hamlet feigns madness (I have yet to work out why), treats Ophelia cruelly and kills her father Polonius behind the arras thinking he was the king. Several unbelievably beautiful soliloquies are rendered, wonderfully, by Hamlet especially (‘Oh! That this too, too solid flesh would melt, thaw, and resolve itself into a dew’: ‘To be or not to be’) and by Claudius (‘My words fly up, my thoughts remain below: words without thoughts never to heaven go.) Ophelia loses her wits and is drowned. Laertes, her brother, seeking double revenge on Hamlet, enters into a foul scheme with Claudius to fence Hamlet with an envenomed blade. Claudius backs up the poisoned rapier with a poisoned glass of wine. Things do not go to plan. Gertrude takes the poisoned wine, Laertes takes a nick from his own blade and Hamlet, dying, gets Claudius with blade and wine. All these characters fall dead, joining the damp and waxen Ophelia who is in her grave on stage. Sad, or what?
    The things I could have wished to be better.
    Gertrude (Charlotte Cornwell) to have showed more interest in and passion for her part. Should she see Iphigenea in Tauris and the raging passion of Queen Clytemneatra to revenge her slaughtered offspring? Maybe Hamlet’s intensity threw her. Elocution no problem. Simply came across as rather automated, as somebody vexed by having a cherry missing from her cupcake at Henley regatta, dahling: Horatio (Alex Waldman) to have done less head-scratching and more projection: Rosencratz (Oliver Ryan) to have dropped the Eastern European guttural torrent and made his lines intelligible (no such problem with gentle Guildenstern (Nicolas Tennant)): Yorick’s jaw (Yorick) to have had less obvious wiring: Marcellus/Player (Samuel Taylor) to have made less noise and slowed down a bit. Much of the above I lay at the door of the voice coach and all with the Director, David Farr, to demonstrate that although he has created an unforgettable rendering of the Bard’s greatest masterpiece, he still needs to keep his scalpels sharp.
    The things I loved.
    Being there: the set: Jonathan Slinger as a uniquely interpretative Hamlet, bringing a new voice to the famous role (‘that is the question’): Ophelia (Pippa Nixon) as a vivid and sweet maid, impossible not to love and pity: Claudius (Greg Hicks) who dominated the court as a scheming tyrant, yet a man of conviction, with diction to be marvelled at, diction matched by only by Polonius (Robin Soans – pedant, control freak notwithstanding), Hamlet most of the time (‘Alas!’ was lost to me) and the Player King (Cliff Burnett) shedding tears for Hecuba, and as Hamlet remarks, ‘What’s Hecuba to him? What’s he to Hecuba?’: the Polaroid as evidence of the King’s discomfiture: the gravediggers (David Fielder and Rosie Hilal): the plangent music: hearing again the lines engraved on my soul in 1955 … ‘When sorrows come, they come not single spies but in battalions ’: ‘Goodnight, sweet Prince, and flights of angels sing thee to thy rest’: ‘How weary, stale, flat and unprofitable seem to me all the uses of this world.’
    But not this night. Not flat at all. Although Stratford seems more concerned with feeding the fifty thousand and coaxing them into his birthplace and Anne Hathaway’s cottage and video highlights of 1564, and despite having to go in a circle four times in 24 minutes looking for an extinct ‘Avonside’ car park before discovering street parking was free after 6pm, I was enthralled by my experience. Stratford should put the RSC at the centre of its message and not as a tacked-on map item. Will himself likewise.
    I was on the road back to Essex by 11pm and by 01:30 I was typing this at home.

  5. David (aged 48 and a half) avatar
    David (aged 48 and a half)

    The super-fresh Alex is just 35? Amazing.

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