Disjointed times call for disjointed measures. Disarticulated in its best recognitions, this `beauty` joints me back to `Shakespeare AF` at sunrise via headphones. David Visick`s Waiting for Hamlet — winner of the Windsor Fringe Kenneth Branagh Award for New Drama Writing in 2018, is now available as a `radio theatre` encounter on Soundcloud.
Due to be touring around the kingdom up to Edimburgh, `locked down` for the notorious reasons, this production preferred the aural dimension to the visual one to reach its audience. Hence, built up a net of efforts on the distance between actors — a couple of `hug-you-I-would`, Nicholas Collett, as Yorick, and Tim Marriott, as the King, and sound engineer/director Trevor Datson.
Dead, interacting into an absurdist inspired Limbo on paper, mirroring duvets-made sound booths in real life, the fool, in a mournful, yet jolly manner is bound to discourage his `lost-in-majesty` companion `to go out`, or `back`, to instruct his son, Hamlet. The conversation is mesmerising, if this can be said of ears with no eyes participating to the theatrical adventure.
Yet, this is where the `beauty` stands. And the `why` of an audio-only alternative in these strange days. In Visick`s words, their venture meant to: `Let [people] create their own magic`. Imagination activating a personalised scenario. Sealed eyes, headspace on task to: `Build their own sets and backdrops, dress and age the characters and direct their gestures and facial expressions`.
Too much of screen these days, in work time, so that entertainment could use some detox and go another way. Welcome to this reviewer, the script does what it is meant to do. Guide `by voices` into a realm of `visualisation of the story`. Help to get lost arising a `unique personal interpretation`, which somehow anticipates a strong desire `to see`, later, in the times to come.
Some minor amends needed to adapt it for a `non-stage` (waiting for a space to become available and filled in), Visick`s writing captures for its deep understanding of `Hamlet`, in a dense yet limber 45 minutes, `comedy` rooted prompting and questioning about a number of matters, in and out the Shakespearean lines. Renaissance flutes and drums welcome the `listener` and the dialogue nails immediately.
That`s right. `Dramaturgical` in expression, `philosophical` in essence, it is the tale of a `meta-hierarchical` friendship liaising opposite hats bearers. A jester `speaking the Truth` to a king in denial. A `wise`, patient, yet sharp tone of voice, he discloses reasons beyond `actions` — Gertrude’s for instance. As a professional in `acting`, though, he cannot but give up, and train the ghost, setting up the first `act`.
This is a battle of words, no one left alone, followed through an unearthly breeze — fatefully power side winning. Flutes and drums metamorphose into rock sounds in the end, tearing the thin curtain isolating the `no-where` from the `some-where`, leading from the `no-when` of a Time free zone to the `some-when` of the quite possibly…