Many critics seem to be regarding Hamlet in Bed, the overwrought
new play that opened last week at Rattlestick Playwrights Theater, as a kind of
audition for some other production they'd rather see than this one.
The two-hander, written by Michael Laurence, stars Laurence
as an actor, self-referentially named Michael, who is obsessed with Shakespeare’s most
famous character; and Annette O’Toole as a boozy has-been actress, coyly called Anna, he persuades
to play the prince's mother Gertrude. Further complicating the meta-ish plot is the
fact that "Michael" secretly believes "Anna" to be his real-life mother who gave
him up for adoption at birth.
It's not a bad premise. And although Laurence is a bit old for the role
of the college-aged prince, he has the lean and intense mien that could
make for a convincing Hamlet. Meanwhile O'Toole, who at 62 has a sultry voice and
a taut figure that rocks the skintight pants she wears, would be
perfect for a Gertrude who blurs the line between the maternal and the carnal.
Hamlet in Bed also offers theatricality to the max as the characters use
handheld mikes to deliver soliloquies that fill us in on their backstories and
inner motivations, wrangle over the nature of their relationship during heated
encounters (including on the titular bed) and perform speeches from the famous
closet scene in which Hamlet confronts his mother about her remarriage so soon after the death of his father.
But Laurence, who fesses up to having some Hamlet issues of
his own (click here to read about them) takes such a heavy handed approach to
all of it that, abetted by Lisa Peterson's gloomy direction, the pleasure of making
the connections between his play and Shakespeare's quickly evaporates.
So I'm with the critics on this one: the show might have been better if it had gone old school, without the bed.
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