Perhaps in an attempt to make up for the lack of roles for women in Hamlet (and Shakespeare in general), the producers of this version of Shakespeare's play have decided that the minor character of Marcellus should be made female and be seen with much greater frequency. And while it sounds good on paper, it actually compounds the problem of a lack of strong women, especially since she is made out as Horatio's girlfriend: Suddenly, Marcella (as she is now called) has no purpose. As a man, he was in maybe two scenes, and after Horatio is established as Hamlet's only confidant, he ceases to matter. Now, however, she repeatedly appears in scenes where she has nothing to do except stand dumbly by her man; because her character does not appear in the script (and because the filmmakers never came up with a justifiable reason for keeping her) she still doesn't matter. Only now we are painfully aware that she doesn't matter, because we continue to see her. This sort of careless revision that ultimately sacrifices story and character (two of Shakespeare's strong points) for gimmick does much to contribute to the downfall of the movie.
While I fully support a "naturalization" of Shakespeare's words in the mouths of modern actors, much of the cast simply mumbled what's left of the text without ever embodying the rich meaning behind the words. Case in point: Ethan Hawke's best delivery of his dialogue comes when he is forced to raise his voice to be heard over the dance music in a club. The rest of the time he's pretty much content to murmur to himself without ever actually letting us inside his head. Julia Stiles' Ophelia isn't much better off when it comes to projecting real emotion (big problem for almost everyone), but she is at least partially redeemed by her quite brilliant mad scenes. I think this is actually the best handling of those scenes it has ever been my privilege to witness, especially her reunion with brother Laertes (Liev Schreiber, on his game yet again). And despite an exasperatingly pause-heavy delivery, Bill Murray actually manages more genuine warmth is his handling of Shakespeare's language than most of the leads.
Aside from that, the most interesting scene in this modern adaptation of Shakespeare's play, both for its clever updating of the text and its "cool factor" was the chase after the ghost of Hamlet Sr. through the back stairways, complicated elevator systems, and up to the roof of the Hotel Elsinore. Unfortunately, it never happened. It was set up just right: Horatio, Marcella, and security guard Bernardo are anxiously awaiting the young prince's arrival upon the platform where they watch (an empty hall of fancy elevators) while they look for signs of the ghost's activity on their security monitors, when Bernardo calls Hamlet on the phone and wakes him. But he never gets him on the phone: the ghost in this version is considerate enough to come right to Hamlet's room without having to separate him from his comrades (although Sam Shepard does give an engaging performance as the elder Hamlet).
But Shakespeare was smarter than that. Again, the filmmakers have tried to justify their tampering with the script by introducing new gimmicks, but I wonder how they expect a surprising tweaking of the text can ultimately make up for the excitement of human interaction "upon the platform" of which we have been deprived. (The end sequence suffers most heavily from this careless cleverness.) In fact, in spite of the reasonably skillful butchering of the text, the movie moves along at a surprisingly dull pace. What the recent Romeo and Juliet may have lacked in acting skill, it made up for in spectacle, thereby assuring a satisfying ride. This Hamlet never quite makes it. The music, for example, although annoyingly incessant, rarely helps to push the action, as it did very well in, say, Lola Rennt (Run Lola Run). If you make the choice to disregard the unbroken rhythm of Shakespeare's text, you'd better be prepared to offer us something else that moves the action along just as efficiently, which these moviemakers have unfortunately failed to do.
Nor is there any attempt made to cash in on the significant humor of the script; even Bill Murray's Polonius rarely comes off as funny, and we are cruelly teased with -and then robbed of- the gravedigger scene. Indeed, the only laughs when I saw it came just as the King was revealing his crafty grand plan (ho hum) to the enraged Laertes, and only then because a boom microphone was momentarily seen hanging over their heads as the camera angle changed!
The movie is not a total loss. It has its share of clever ideas and nice moments (from Polonius tying his rebellious daughter's shoe, to Ophelia's early contemplation of suicide) and scores high points with its updates of Ophelia's handing out of flowers, and Hamlet's carefully crafted video he calls "The Mousetrap." It also has a handful of strong performances, although with such a disappointing Hamlet, no one could have saved the movie. But ultimately, as the climactic duel reaches is feverous intensity, and motives and resolutions are inexplicably struck from the text (and new improbabilities are added why is the last shot of the security guy his sudden awareness of a threat, if we never see him again once the bloodshed starts? Why does he not even try to stop the attack?), it becomes painfully clear that the movie is literally falling apart under it's own bloated cleverness. And their safety net Shakespeare's text, presumably, since nothing was offered in place of it- has long since been filled full of irreparable holes.
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