Following suit with the other posts, I’m going to offer up Shakespeare's
Hamlet as another example of a perfect play. I think most people are in agreement that
Hamlet qualifies as such, and there are a billion reasons to support that, so maybe this is a needless post… but I’m gonna do it anyway. And in a pathetic attempt at trying to do this play justice (don’t think the subject made this post easy. On the contrary, I think I screwed myself over by choosing this play! Not to mention I’m much too under-qualified to provide a fully-developed critique), we’ll say that these are
Mikala’s reasons
Hamlet is a perfect play:
1. Questions. The play is all about presenting us with questions, and never giving a definite answer. The very first line is a question (“Who’s there?”), followed by continual questions (with apprehensive undertones), immediately setting up the play’s mood. What’s revenge, what’s justified, is the ghost actually Hamlet’s father, is Hamlet insane, is
he the reason that everything goes to pot, who should the crown go to, did Claudius kill his brother, was Gertrude in on it? And it might be that one of Hamlet’s greatest flaws is that he can never answer anything, he hesitates too much. And
still the play also questions whether or not this is a flaw. The underlying question often seems to be: what is justified and what isn’t? And by contemplating
that, does Hamlet doom himself? Or is he actually being a good politician?
2. And going along with the previous point, I’ll offer up the very, very beginning as another reason this play is brilliant. It’s midnight, no one can see anything, it’s cold, it’s eerie, we’re immediately on edge. The very first bits of the dialogue subtly suggest the essential themes of the play: first one as a question, later “Long live the king!” (I.1 line 3), a common enough reassurance of loyalty for the time period, but given the context of the play, look at the complications! Some of the major questions of this play—Should King Claudius live? Who is the rightful king?—all complicate this seemingly innocent and banal saying. And it’s almost too coincidental that the ghost (of the king, Hamlet’s father?) appears right after that. (Perhaps he
is “living” by remaining and pressuring Hamlet to seek justice/revenge, which perhaps sets up an inevitably tragic end?) But getting back to my original point, we get all this at the beginning, making the play take off like a bat out of hell! The questioning, the action, the apprehension, the complications, the ghost, are right up front. We’re not lulled in, we’re
jerked in.
3. And after that kind of beginning, it still doesn’t stop. For a guy who’s always hesitating, always unsure of what he “should” do, Hamlet sure does a LOT! He goes to great lengths to attempt to answer his questions, he sets up traps, he acts crazy, he puts on a play, and whatever is going on, it’s always driving
towards something. And when he finally acts rashly, he mistakenly kills Polonius. So, looping back to what I was saying before, is it the hesitation that dooms him, or the rashness? (Remember, another reason Laertes wishes to kill Hamlet is because his manipulation/ contemplation/ internal struggle is perhaps why Ophelia goes crazy.)
4. So with that in mind, yay melodrama! Come on, don’t be ashamed, admit it, we gobble it up. And we all know how the renaissance dramatists are masters of melodrama, where, logically, every step moves the characters into the worst of the worst, the tensest of the tense, where everyone has so much to lose (and usually does). (And I mean melodrama in the sense that the plot exploits coincidence to exaggerate emotions.) So we get the tension and themes right at the beginning, and it stays throughout! We see every scene, every moment, every plan, as crucial to the story-line, and also relentlessly tense. And perhaps that diminishes our ability to be objectively critical, but… see number 9.
5. Performance. Specifically, the play within the play (III.2 – the very center of the overall play, what does that say?). Not only is it SO cool in its meta-theatricality (isn’t the layering of commentary and instructions just so clever and profound in its machinations?), and it goes along with all the themes of performance (Hamlet’s feigned madness, courtly conduct, performance of ignorance for self-preservation, etc.), but there’s a reason for it beyond entertainment (maybe an argument for the theatre’s value beyond amusement?). Hamlet sets it up as a trap for Claudius and Gertrude, and there’s the amazing reversal of theatrical roles—Claudius and Gertrude are supposed to be the spectators, but their reaction is the main action in that scene.
Their performance is the important one. I have no words to express my delight in
that irony.
6. Universality. What
doesn’t this play cover? We’ve got questions over revenge, justice, real/feigned madness, manipulation, incest, inheritance, moral corruption… I could go on. And the topics themselves are pretty universal (as much as anything can be called universal), meaning this play is destined for countless adaptations and reproductions. It presents these really profound questions to us,
doesn’t answer them, instead maybe suggests that these questions are unanswerable, but worth consideration? Eh? Or is even
that true, or does it lead to tragedy, like the play shows us?
7. Yup yup. You knew this was coming: the f-ing fabulous language. The lines, you know them, you love them. Part 1) See the previous point and apply it to the lines. I mean, of course the lines are part of the reason the
play is so universal, but also, seriously, who hasn’t quoted a specific line? Part 2) The language is sooooo eloquent (it still blows my mind how renaissance dramatists could write like this), but
also the great lines and speeches (that can be taken out of the play’s context and stand on their own) are purposeful for character development; the instructional ones establish the speaker as maybe patronizing (a father, a director, a prince), the contemplative ones establish the speaker as… well, contemplative—which might be the character’s dooming flaw?
8. The gravediggers in V.1. I’m a firm believer that a winning play is one that exploits comedy and tragedy, even if extremely imbalanced. With this scene, we get the banter, the jokes, still there’s questioning (how Ophelia should be buried, what she deserves), and look at the juxtaposition! It’s at the perfect time! It’s Ophelia’s funeral, Hamlet reveals his faithful love, Hamlet laments the passage of time, the deterioration of youth in the “Yoric” speech, and perhaps the only real laughs in this play were the moments just before this. What a drastic change! Not to mention, the gravediggers’ jokes touch on larger themes (death, suicide, class differences, etc.), perhaps showing how comic relief can still hold substance?
9. Hamlet. It’s almost too obvious to mention, but look at him. Part of the reason the whole play is so tense is because
he is. And he’s the shining example of the brilliant, Machiavellian, brooding, loner hero we so often celebrate— another reason this play is still so popular.
And the play puts us in his investigative position; it forces an intimacy between the audience and Hamlet even while the audience objectifies him. By thrusting all these questions at us, by making us search for the answers, we’re forced to become Hamlet—we are part of the play! Now, I’m not saying that this kind of intimacy is a
better route than the whole Brechtian distance, but in this case, it’s just so well done, it’s so well suited! And, in regards to point number 4, Hamlet is still somewhat removed from his world; he is the critic, which allows us to be intimate with him and still critique his world. So the melodrama, the manipulation of our emotional responses, doesn’t completely destroy our ability to objectify the world we’re watching, because Hamlet is still objectifying it. And interacting. Maybe we get some kind of hybrid of melodrama and emotional distance?
10. Everyone dies. Ok, not everyone. The story goes on, Denmark gets a new monarch, etc. But all the major characters—dead. And you could argue how this excessive death is symbolic, ridiculous, whatever. But you can’t deny that it’s a clean ending. Well, no, technically messy, I suppose. But clean. And really enjoyable.
11. I think it's perfect. And, as Hamlet says, "There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so." :o)
I've probably just worn your eyes out, and I STILL feel like I've only scratched the surface. If you want points 12-86, let me know and I'll humor you.
Mikala
