`We’re no-when…`

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…

A ghost is a ghost is a ghost

The audio of a vintage trailer covers the chattering of the audience, whilst the ultra-technologic proscenium begins to enliven. A `nurse` stage-hand sets a micro-screen behind an actor who is rather `acting` as a presenter. Disorientating further are a Macbethian kilt and an iPad in his hand. Fast paced he conquers a stool, and places it in front of an anchored video camera directed onto the interior of the scene. He sits down and starts `presenting`, — together with his double, materialising in the screen behind him, the features of this uncommon `action` upon the most iconic Shakespearean character.

The impression is that this is just a preamble. Thus, one just starts to listen. `In 1964, — he expounds — Richard Burton had an experience that no other actor had never had before, the chance to see himself perform on a Broadway stage through a process called `Theatrofilm` with `Electronovision` `. What that is, — he admits, a little embarrassed — he has no clue. Then he proceeds: `I am no scientist`, but `I have seen the film, and I can only say it seems to be like a very well produced film, as one would have normally seen it in the theatre` — he self-corrects, `in the cinema, except that this was shot in the Lunt-Fontanne Theatre with an actual audience`.

It is just after some research one finds out that Scott Shepherd — a formidable voice print, is actually already doing his job with an on stage `calque` of the opening trailer. Therefore, we are already into The Wooster Group production of Hamlet. The mobile device is used to communicate with a further mega-video with the function of scenery flat, upon which, together with technical staff — overstepping the fourth wall, without fracturing it, he starts projecting the acclaimed production directed by Sir John Gielgud, starring Hollywood icons like the Hitchcockian Hume Cronyn. A multiplication of Deleuzian `folds`, disclosing a not only scenic depth.

He proceeds stating that this `film` was shown simultaneously in something like 2000 movie theaters across the United States on September 23 and 24 that same year, aiming at never been shown again. `Never until now`. The avant-garde work of the New York based group is not new to the integration of performance and video, and the one on Hamlet gathers in itself a multiplicity of peculiar notes, definitely beginning with the notion of `ghost`. The editing of the miraculous original — in the early 1960s `projecting`, literally, into the future, plays around the `spirit` of Hamlet, and all of its representations.


© Paula Court

The intention, `with our Hamlet`, one can read in the program notes of a piece born in 2005 at the Performing Garage located in Wooster Street, SoHo, and from then on touring around up to the 2013 Edimburgh Festival, whose video, — further `fold`, is now accessible on Kanopy, is to reverse that process, reconstructing it. A `reversed-Theatrofilm` — public laughs, where Burton is there but he is not, just like a ghost, and Shepherd plays with this ghost, compensating his absences, as well as the other actors of the ensemble directed by Elizabeth LeCompte, founder, in 1967, together with Richard Schechner, of what was, at the beginning, the Performance Group.

A specific quote from Grotowsky in the program signals to what kind of theatre this specific fragment in the history of performative arts belongs to, `I am in the process of speaking with my ancestors. And, of course, I am not in agreement with my ancestors. But at the same time, I can’t deny them. They are my base; they are my source. It’s a personal affair between them and me.` And those ancestors’ steps, and voices, the actors reproduce as in a `chorus-collage`, channelling their founding past — right as in a `spiritualism` practice, by means of in-ear receivers, and mobile scenic props minimalising further the already `poor` original staging: a rectangular table and a small throne-armchair.

An Elsinore Castle reduced then to its atrium: a high backcloth-flat, a diagonal wooden structure made of a series of four rungs and a flight with banister, the allusion to an armoury, and the ghost of the father in the shape of an unmistakably Gielgudian shadow-projection… Now proposed again in a smaller, neutral version, halfway between a movie set and a rehearsal room, in order to make space for the bodies and their visibility. All the cuts, and the technical issues — `unrendered`, while apparently real, are actually part of a revived script, and likewise conceived to make the `new actors` visible, a generation honouring its predecessors.

That is how, in order to paint of `present` the topical moments of the tragedy, not only two cameo-songs come, composed especially by Fischerspooner for this production, almost a `concert-into-the-performance` paying homage to the Ophelia-Laertes relationship — Casey Spooner being part of the cast, and playing, among other characters, Laertes himself, but also the `technicolor` and voice distortion for the troupe setting up the `mouse trap`, and again some `pirate-fragments` inserted in the Burtonian template, surgically cut out from Zeffirelli, Almereyda, Branagh movies. Tribute accomplished.


© Paula Court