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Alas, poor women

We watched Hamlet this weekend. Kevin paused a moment and said, “It’s different with a woman’s perspective. You’re right, he totally screwed Ophelia over.”

This does not detract from the fact that the play is intriguing and that this particular production was highly accessible via the actors’ nuanced delivery. (There are bits there where David Tennant seems to be channeling Gene Wilder’s Willy Wonka with varying degrees of fit). There is no hope or redemption for any of the characters, but I would like go back follow what was going on offstage.

For example, Ophelia is this kid. She’s just a girl getting hit on by the prince. She of the protective older brother and doddering father and missing mother figure is deluged by fantastic love notes. Let’s assume she is in love, as much as any teenager falling for the first time, asked by the captain of the football team and would be shoe-in for queen of the prom. Then, for the sake of some murderous ruse, this prince verbally (and in some productions) physically abuses her. Tells her she is worthless and a whore, because that’s what women are.

Dude.

The part where he accidentally kills her father…well, that’s just gravy. I didn’t find Hamlet terribly sympathetic.


How old is this kid, anyway? He has all the angst of a sixteen year old. How old is Gertrude? Given the age, where girls were popping out babies at 14, an easy 30.

Think about that for a moment.

Was Hamlet senior some old guy? Or a young war mongering hot head? Was the marriage arranged? Did Gertrude love him? Did she love Claudius? Did she even have a choice? We’ve seen this play a variety of ways - even through Rosenkrantz and Guildenstern’s view. Not so much from the females’ perspective, who, I will reiterate, are totally screwed over.

Gertrude has a lot going on. Let Isabelle Allende tell her story or perhaps Barbara Kingsolver. Let them tell me if she drank the poisoned cup knowingly or not, whether it was an act of desperation or independence.

Posted 05/03/2010
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