- Henry crashed our publicity photo shoot (Photo by the absurdly talented Ben Meadors*)
I’m currently directing Hamlet by William Shakespeare. It’s widely considered one of the greatest literary works in the history of human civilization. Most actors want to play the role, and many directors dream of staging it. Aside from the the high expectations, and eager scrutiny, it has been a great pleasure to work on it so far. The play just works. With enduring classics, such as this, my job is mostly to cast it well, make sure the text is heard, and get out of the way of the story. Every variation has been done; every gimmick, every approach, and every bizarre concept has been attempted. And documented.
Except our production. My cast has never been seen together onstage. My designers have never collaborated on this piece. We are wholly unique. This is our version. Our take. Our perspective. And that’s quite exciting.
When I chose to direct this play over 18 months ago, Henry was a mere notion; not even a concept or concrete plan. Why on earth would a new dad tackle second year review for promotion and tenure and this play? The workload has been enormous. The hours of research, preparation and rehearsals will ultimately number in the thousands. This is a project that can be taxing on families – whether it be late night rehearsals or residual stress. Fortunately, I am married to the most patient and compassionate woman in the history of the world. Shakespeare would really like her.
I have been studying this play for over 20 years, finding something new upon each reading. As I get older, different passages and characters take on new relevance. I identify with certain themes and ideas depending on what is happening in my life at the time. I have sought solace in Hamlet’s opening soliloquy. I have used the players’ scenes to teach acting technique. I have collapsed in many an existential panic over “To Be or Not to Be.” I have sobbed uncontrollably in my mentor’s arms while trying to perform the nunnery scene.
Henry’s birth has provided a delightful and invigorating burst of creative inspiration. My perspective has once again shifted. This time magnanimously.
Shakespeare and his wife had three children: Susanna, and the twins Hamnet and Judith. Hamnet died of unknown causes in 1596 at the age of eleven. In 1602, William wrote Twelfth Night, a melancholy comedy about a girl who disguises herself as her lost-for-dead brother. It features a climactic reunion scene of the two siblings that would send nostalgic shivers down the spine of even the most cynical of viewers. Hamlet is also thought to have been written in that same year. I have always imagined that perhaps Twelfth Night was a gift for Judith, and that Hamlet was a eulogy for Hamnet.
The relationships between Hamlet and his parents (Queen Gertrude and the ghost of King Hamlet) are clearer to me and of greater interest. I have tremendous sympathy for the parents and the bond they hold with their son. The enormity of Gertrude’s arc is much more apparent, the dysfunction we find at the start of the play is all the more heartbreaking.
Two years ago, I directed Twelfth Night. This April my production of Hamlet bows before Cleveland audiences. I don’t know if Henry will get to see the play, but I am so grateful that he’s around during its creation.
*Check out Ben Meadors’ website. He is the artist behind all the B-W Theatre & Dance and Music Theatre photographs of the last two years. You can even order prints of the above photos.
