To cut, or not to cut...

On Tuesday we had a the first run of the play, and it was… let's just say it ran long. Now I'm not one of these people who thinks that theatre needn't be long, so long as it is good. I recently sat through a production at the Met of Handel's opera Giulio Cesare which ran a thrilling 4-1/2 hours. And let's face it, this is "Hamlet." It's SUPPOSED to be long, right? It's literally ABOUT delay. 

We went into this project knowing that we wanted a reasonably lean, fast-paced production that focused on the revenge plot and eliminated the Fortinbras sections. That meant cutting a major soliloquy as well as re-thinking portions of the ending. So long, "How all occasions do inform against me / And spur my dull revenge." Happy trails, "Go, bid the soldiers shoot." By my calculation, dramaturg Kristin Vieira and I cut the play from 32,000 words to 25,000 words, or 22% of the play.  Further trims were made in rehearsal as things read too long, and a few (not many) lines were put back in. 

A confession: I went into rehearsals with a script that I knew was too long, because I feel that different actors might latch onto material differently. Perhaps one Claudius will make "like a man to double business bound" the most brilliant, key moment of his big III.iii monologue. Better to cut it later rather than before.

And now, the "later" is upon us. This week we all felt that the play was too long. The cast felt it because they looked at their watches backstage. I felt it because, as an audience member, I started to feel restless, started to feel the play go a little slack. I made notes of the times in which I felt these things, which provided me with guideposts to judge what to cut, what to speed up, and how to watch future runs.

The artist in me thinks that a play or production needs to be however long it needs to be. To quote from Peter Schaffer's Amadeus, when the Emperor tells Mozart there are "too many notes," he responds, "There are just as many notes, Majesty, as are required. Neither more nor less." But what to do about that pesky audience? What if my radar as an audience member is biased? What if Charleston audiences are less patient than New York ones? What if our production (*gasp!*) can't sustain the length?

I decided to handicap my radar. I decided that, in addition to working the pacing (which was, as any first run is, too slow at many points) and trimming a few sections, a good deal more cuts were necessary. Also, at this early period of the "late" stage, we must now choose what is most important to spend our time resources on. Yes, I'm sure that we could have gotten the section in I.iv about the Danes being drunkards to be brilliant -- but at what expense to the rest of the production? And is that section important to the story OUR production is telling?

Shakespeare, especially in this play, wrote long. Many scholars have remarked upon the fact that Shakespeare repeats concepts and doubles characters throughout "Hamlet." In his Prefaces to Shakespeare, Tony Tanner writes of this "compulsive doubling, as though Shakespeare will not use one word when he can think of two." Part of my job is to trim extraneous doublings down, in order to highlight the essential ones.

I received suggestions from some of the cast members, and made my own cuts as well, many of them difficult but necessary. I also sat down with my Hamlet (David Lee Nelson) and went through the entire play, deciding on many internal Hamlet cuts. In the end, I feel like everyone had to sacrifice something for the good of the production. Gone is "like a man to double business bound." Much shortened is Reynaldo, that wily servant. And don't get me lamenting the "crowing of the cock."

The production script is now about 21,000 words, or 65% of the full play, and a few more cuts may come. These cuts are necessary, and are part of what makes this production distinctly our own.

The bird of dawning singeth all night long

Some fun with birds.

From Folk-lore of Shakespeare (http://www.sacred-texts.com/sks/flos/flos08.htm)

Cock.—The beautiful notion which represents the cock as crowing all night long on Christmas Eve, and by its vigilance dispelling every kind of malignant spirit and evil influence, is graphically mentioned in "Hamlet" (i. 1), where Marcellus, speaking of the ghost, says—

"It faded on the crowing of the cock.
 Some say that ever 'gainst that season comes,
 Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated,
 The bird of dawning singeth all night long:
 And then, they say, no spirit dares stir abroad;
 The nights are wholesome; then no planets strike,
 No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm,
 So hallow’d and so gracious is the time."

In short, there is a complete prostration of the powers of darkness; and thus, for the time being, mankind is said to be released from the influence of all those evil forces which otherwise exert such sway. The notion that spirits fly at cock-crow is very ancient, and is mentioned by the Christian poet Prudentius, (See my blog post "Hymn at Cock-crow" for this poem) who flourished in the beginning of the fourth century. There is also a hymn, said to have been composed by St Ambrose, and formerly used in the Salisbury Service, which so much resembles the following speech of Horatio (i. 1), that one might almost suppose Shakespeare had seen it. (You can read it here)

(A note from me: Cock-crowing, also called the Third Watch, was 12am-3am)


Heron.—This bird was frequently flown at by falconers. Shakespeare, in "Hamlet" (ii. 2), makes Hamlet say,
"I am but mad north-north-west; when the wind is southerly, I know a hawk from a handsaw;" handsaw being a corruption of "heronshaw," or "hernsew," which is still used, in the provincial dialects, for a heron. In Suffolk and Norfolk it is pronounced "harnsa," from which to "handsaw," is but a single step. Shakespeare here alludes to a proverbial saying, "He knows not a hawk from a handsaw." Mr J. C. Heath explains the passage thus: "The expression obviously refers to the sport of hawking. Most birds, especially one of heavy flight like the heron, when roused by the falconer or his dog, would fly down or with the wind, in order to escape. When the wind is from the north, the heron flies towards the south, and the spectator may be dazzled by the sun, and be unable to distinguish the hawk from the heron. On the other hand, when the wind is southerly, the heron flies towards the north, and it and the pursuing hawk are clearly seen by the sportsman, who then has his back to the sun, and without difficulty knows the hawk from the hernsew."

From a great page called Shakespeare's Ornithology (http://www.acobas.net/teaching/shakespeare/masters/)

Lapwing "Like a Lapwing that runs away with the shell on its head" refers to the behaviour of the young of some ground-nesting species, they are able to leave the nest almost as soon as having hatched in case of an incoming danger:

This lapwing runs away with the shell on his head.:

Sparrow: From Matthew 10:29-31: "Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground apart from the will of your Father. And even the very hairs of your head are all numbered. So do not be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows." 

Pigeons and Kites:

 But I am pigeon-livered and lack gall

To make oppression bitter, or ere this

I should have fatted all the region kites

With this slave’s offal. (2.2)
"Although s large bird, and called by some the Royal Kite, it has not the bold dash of many of our smaller hawks in seizing live and strong prey, but glides about ignobly, looking for a sickly or wounded victim, or for offal of any sort." (From Harting's book "The birds of Shakespeare", 1871)
Pigeons do, in fact, lack a gall-bladder, as do most birds.

Woodcocks: 
"Woodcocks, for some unaccountable reason, were supposed to have no brains, and the name of this bird became a synonym for a fool." (Harting)  The trap ("springe") is very similar to a mousetrap. 

Falconry was at its height of popularity in Elizabethan England, and Shakespeare displays mastery of the subject throughout his plays. Pigeons were used as game that hawks would fly at--"the quarry." (See, "This quarry cries on havoc," Hamlet, 5.2) The quarry differed depending on what type of hawk you were using, although French falconers "do not appear to have been so particular: We'll e'en to it like French falconers, fly at anything we see." (Harting, 56) "To check" is a falconry term meaning "to fly at" but also means changing the bird in pursuit. (See 5.2. Claudius: "If he be now returned/ As checking at his voyage...")


Several of the articles and books I read at the library talked about birds in Charleston. Mockingbirds were mentioned as a continuous sound. You can listen to them here: 

http://www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/northern_mockingbird/sounds

Also, because of the lack of proper sanitation in Charleston in the early 1900s, buzzards were a frequent sighting. In true Charlestonian style, the buzzards were re-named "Charleston Eagles."
From a 1901 New York Times article titled "Charleston's Buzzards":
"No wonder they are so haughty and without regard for the rights and feelings of others, for they have a trust founded upon the richest scavenger business in one of the oldest cities in the land, and theirs was perhaps the first trust in America. Trust magnates among men are always supposed to be defiant, and why should not they be likewise among buzzards?"

Hymn at Cock-Crow

I. HYMN AT COCK-CROW by Saint Prudentius

Awake! the shining day is born!

The herald cock proclaims the morn:

And Christ, the soul's Awakener, cries,

Bidding us back to life arise.

Away the sluggard's bed! away

The slumber of the soul's decay!

Ye chaste and just and temperate,

Watch! I am standing at the gate.

After the sun hath risen red

'Tis late for men to scorn their bed,

Unless a portion of the night

They seize for labours of the light.

Mark ye, what time the dawn draws nigh,

How 'neath the eaves the swallows cry?

Know that by true similitude

Their notes our Judge's voice prelude.

When hid by shades of dark malign

On beds of softness we recline,

They call us forth with music clear

Warning us that the day is near.

When breezes bright of orient morn

With rosy hues the heavens adorn,

They cheer with hope of gladdening light

The hearts that spend in toil their might.

Though sleep be but a passing guest

'Tis type of death's perpetual rest:

Our sins are as a ghastly night,

And seal with slumbers deep our sight.

But from the wide roof of the sky

Christ's voice peals forth with urgent cry,

Calling our sleep-bound hearts to rise

And greet the dawn with wakeful eyes.

He bids us fear lest sensual ease

Unto life's end the spirit seize

And in the tomb of shame us bind,

Till we are to the true light blind.

'Tis said that baleful spirits roam

Abroad beneath the dark's vast dome;

But, when the cock crows, take their flight

Sudden dispersed in sore affright.

For the foul votaries of the night

Abhor the coming of the light,

And shamed before salvation's grace

The hosts of darkness hide their face.

They know the cock doth prophesy

Of Hope's long-promised morning sky,

When comes the Majesty Divine

Upon awakened worlds to shine.

The Lord to Peter once foretold

What meaning that shrill strain should hold,

How he before cock-crow would lie

And thrice his Master dear deny.

For 'tis a law that sin is done

Before the herald of the sun

To humankind the dawn proclaims

And with his cry the sinner shames.

Then wept he bitter tears aghast

That from his lips the words had passed,

Though guileless he his soul possessed

And faith still reigned within his breast.

Nor ever reckless word he said

Thereafter, by his tongue betrayed,

But at the cock's familiar cry

Humbled he turned from vanity.

Therefore it is we hold to-day

That, as the world in stillness lay,

What hour the cock doth greet the skies,

Christ from deep Hades did arise.

Lo! then the bands of death were burst,

Shattered the sway of hell accurst:

Then did the Day's superior might

Swiftly dispel the hosts of Night.

Now let base deeds to silence fall,

Black thoughts be stilled beyond recall:

Now let sin's opiate spell retire

To that deep sleep it doth inspire.

For all the hours that still remain

Until the dark his goal attain,

Alert for duty's stern command

Let every soul a sentry stand.

With sober prayer on Jesus call;

Let tears with our strong crying fall;

Sleep cannot on the pure soul steal

That supplicates with fervent zeal.

Too long did dull oblivion cloud

Our motions and our senses shroud:

Lulled by her numbing touch, we stray

In dreamland's ineffectual way.

Bound by the dazzling world's soft chain

'Tis false and fleeting gauds we gain,

Like those who in deep slumbers lie:--

Let us awake! the truth is nigh.

Gold, honours, pleasure, wealth and ease,

And all the joys that mortals please,

Joys with a fatal glamour fraught--

When morning comes, lo! all are nought.

But thou, O Christ, put sleep to flight

And break the iron bands of night,

Free us from burden of past sin

And shed Thy morning rays within.

Charleston Politics

Some facts about Charleston that I learned at the South Carolina Historical Society:

"Of all the slow places on the planet, it was the slowest."

From "Charleston Politics in the Progressive Era," a thesis written in 1963:

New Progressivism: an aversion of the common people to the aristocracy.
Charleston Mayor John P. Grace (Mayor 1911-1915, 1919-1923) was an Irish Catholic politician and lawyer who was a believer in majority rule and an antagonist of aristocratic privilege. Traditionally, politicians in Charleston were "boni" (aristocracy of English or Huguenot ancestry).

"The government of the city had long rested in the hands of a few old families, among them the Gadsons and the Rhetts. The overthrow of this ancient and aristocratic rule (with the election of Grace) was spoken of by the New York Sun as being not a mere change in municipal government, but the fall of a dynasty which had controlled the city politically, financially and socially for a century and a half."

 (If you're interested in this, here is another article: http://www.thestate.com/2011/03/20/1743237/after-charlestons-fall-the-mob.html)

After Grace, however, the next few mayors were of the "boni" class-- Thomas P. Stoney (though unusual because he did not live South of Broad) and Burnet Rhett Maybank (mayor of Charleston 1930-1938) are prime examples. Maybank was the direct descendent of five South Carolina governors.

I have lots more info on this, but just wanted to give a general overview. If you have any questions or would like more resources, let me know. I think it's an interesting parallel with the elected monarchy of Hamlet.

More on Ophelia's rhymes

A fantastic article by Robert Tracy from 1963 on The Owl and the Baker's Daughter:

http://www.houseofideas.com/mscornelius/resources/hamlet/hamlet_vol_35__imagery_277101-.pdf

Old Jepthah

Painting of Jepthah, John Everett Millais, 1867

Jepthah asked God to bring him victory over his enemies, the Ammonites. In return, he vowed that "whoever comes forth from the doors of my house to meet me, when I return victorious from the Ammonites, shall be the LORD's, and I will offer him up as a burnt offering. (Judges 11:30-31) When he returns home victorious, his only child, a virgin daughter, runs out of the house to meet him. 
"And when he saw her, he rent his clothes, and said, 'Alas, my daughter! you have brought me very low and you have become the cause of great trouble for me, for I have opened my mouth to the LORD, and I cannot take back my vow."(11:35)
His daughter tells him that he must do whatever he has promised to God, but first she asks, " 'Let me alone two months, that I may go and wander on the mountains, and bewail my virginity, I and my companions.'
  

The Lament of Jepthah's Daughter, George Elgar Hicks, 1871

"And at the end of two months, she returned to her father, who did with her according to his vow which he had made. She had never known a man. And it became a custom in Israel that the daughters of Israel went year by year to lament the daughter of Jephthah the Gileadite four days in the year." (11: 37-40)

Shakespeare the Secret Catholic?

To be (Catholic) or not to be (Catholic)....

http://publicvigil.blogspot.com/2010/10/hidden-catholic-meaning-of-hamlet.html

It gets silly in the middle, but makes a good point about Claudius/Henry and Gertrude/Catherine parallels.

Here are some selections from a more scholarly article, called "Hamlet and the Reformation: The Prince of Denmark as 'Young Man Luther'" by Edward T. Oakes: (emphasis is mine)

"The central problem of the play, as was recognized almost upon its first appearance on stage, centers on why Hamlet hesitates in following out his father’s ghostly demand to avenge his death, quite in violation of the conventions of all other revenge tragedies. Interpretations explaining this indecision have ranged all over the map, but  only recently have critics come to recognize that Hamlet’s hesitation is first and primarily a theological hesitation. Strangely, this insight has been late in coming, even though Shakespeare peppered his play with hints and indications that he meant Hamlet to be a commentary on the Reformation; not least of course is his making the prince study in Wittenberg, of all places, when he hears of his father’s death and his mother’s hasty marriage. That geographical hint, however, was largely ignored until late in the twentieth century." (p.57-58)

"Recent criticism has come to reject these personality-driven approaches, whether Romantic or Freudian, and instead chooses to look at the historical setting of the play in order to see Hamlet’s conflict as essentially theological. To be sure, Eliot had already signaled a dissatisfaction with all Romantic interpretations of the play, but even he failed to notice what Paul Cantor sees as the most obvious setting for the tragedy: “It is remarkable how many of the complications of Hamlet’s situation can be traced to the impact of his belief in an afterlife has on his thinking. " (p.59)

"But why is Hamlet so uncertain? Cantor’s interpretation consistently places the play in the context of the Renaissance, that unique blend of classical Greek and Roman cultural norms within the setting of the Catholic religion. But, with rare exceptions, Renaissance artists displayed no hesitation about the truth of the Catholic account of the afterlife, as Dante’s Divine Comedy and Michelangelo’s frescos in the Sistine Chapel irrefutably show. Nothing in Shakespeare’s play gives any indication that Hamlet is a skeptic in the Hobbesian or Humean mode but rather is a Christian of a peculiar type: one torn between two rival versions of Christian eschatology, Catholic and Lutheran."(p.61)


This uncertainty is not only the center of the play, the very motor that explains all of Hamlet’s tormented ambivalence, it was also the reason that religious strife in Elizabethan England remained so chronic and unresolved, even to our present times. “Hamlet is a play of contagious, almost universal self-estrangement,” says Greenblatt, a theme Shakespeare signals in the opening scene of the play: “Say what, is Horatio there?” asks Bernardo on the castle walls at midnight, to which Horatio responds, “A piece of him” (1.1.21–22). This was Europe in 1600: in pieces, with all hopes of union and unity forever gone, lost in the interminable and irresolvable debates over purgatory, merit, indulgences, finding favor with God, Church authority versus the authority of the Bible."

“Protestants sometimes wrote as if the whole doctrine of Purgatory were a stage set, a will-o’the-wisp, a filthy spiderweb they could simply sweep away,” Greenblatt writes. But within a few years, the Puritans among them tried to abolish the stage as well, just as they had already dispatched the doctrine of purgatory as a poet’s fable. Terminology of the stage often referred to the ceiling or canopy as “heaven” and the understage as “hell.” The stage was earth; but as we saw with Prospero’s epilogue, also a kind of purgatory. “Does this mean that Shakespeare was participating in a secularization process, one in which the theater offers a disenchanted version of what the cult of Purgatory once offered?” Greenblatt asks. “Perhaps. But the palpable effect is something like the reverse: Hamlet immeasurably intensifies a sense of the weirdness of the theater, its proximity to certain experiences that had been organized and exploited by religious institutions and rituals.”³⁶ Here perhaps can be located the ultimate import of Shakespeare’s view of the Reformation: the uncertainties it introduced over purgatory are but a reflection of a more general dread of something after death" (p.72-73)