Ophelia we can spare but the boys deserved a response

Hamlet is a big play, heavy with its own importance, it always is: but the much bantered about Donmar Warehouse production, directed by the Donmar’s Artistic Director, Michael Grandage, wasn’t just big and heavy, it was also very physical: the performances, the emotions, and the set in three dimensions of weight.  All the details considered the greatest effect – why have stiff costumes if you’re going to make it a physical production where the actors are going to manhandle each other as well as do some serious gesturing?  Why would the characters wear anything but blacks and greys when they’re all supposed to be in mourning?  And why would the set be anything by stark and cold, encouraging not just blood heating revenge to course though the veins of the young who inhabit it, but also madness.  It puts more pressure on the players but then what’s the point of putting on a three hour Hamlet that hangs on anything other than the acting.
And Jude Law, who I’ve never had that much of a thing for, despite his being just the right kind of giant, slightly angular and effeminate school boy that I tend towards, was really very good – even though I didn’t really want him to be.  His acting came like waves over the audience, at times frightening, especially when paired with his mother, Gertrude (Penelope Wilton) and Ophelia (Gugu Mbatha-Raw) – I never thought of him as a physically large man, but he certainly seems it here – and with a sort of aloof comfort and glee in the feigned madness, that saw him doing some serious capering, yet showing warmth with his friends.  This character doesn’t just have an emotional arc, he has an emotional MC Escher painting he has to take the audience with him on.  Law’s Hamlet spoke direct to the audience, like we shared his conscience, so when he was withdrawn it was more acutely felt, and though some of the speeches are long, his presence didn’t really waver: at all times he was an impressive physical presence.  In a very physical production.
Laertes’ (Alex Waldmann) tumble into madness, following after his sister, and for similar reasons to Hamlet, was done with a different kind of passion, which reminded how similar the experiences of these characters are.  Yet Laertes’ loss took us back to the beginning to the grieving process, to the sharp shock and anger, which this character fans and then quenches more quickly than naturally self reflective Hamlet is able.  It’s a deep play with a lot of layers, but in this production I saw and felt this layer with most clarity.  I didn’t mind as much when Ophelia died – the women in this play find it hard to scratch into the many layers of heavy earthen emotions going on, but I was captivated by the fate of all these young, hot blooded men, especially when contrasted with the chill of the older characters.
The snow effect was very lovely, and the sound design heightened the drama.  The gravedigger’s scene and the fencing match were personal highlights, and the behaviour of the audience, some of whom were really just coming to ogle dear Jude, was good – though there were a very young couple sitting in front of me who needed to get a room: I wonder how Shakespeare would have reacted to that?  A testament to the green shoots of life affirmation, a rousing of a kindred hot blooded passion, or just a reminder that art can only ever compete with real life.  Still, for a whole periods I wasn’t just captivated by an attractive – at times stunning sight, and I don’t mean Law, I still don’t fancy him – I really cared about what was going on.  Even though this is one of those theatrical experiences where most of the audience already knows the result.