Damon Horowitz’s Becoming Hamlet gives him and the audience the opportunity to portray the tragic Danish prince (photo by Valerie Terranova Photography)
BECOMING HAMLET
Five Angels Theater
789 Tenth Ave. at Fifty-Second St.
Tuesday – Sunday through October 3, $29-$79
becominghamlet.com
To be Hamlet, or not to be Hamlet: That is the question posed in Becoming Hamlet, which continues at Five Angels Theater through October 3.
If you are a purist who wants to see Hamlet, perhaps William Shakespeare’s most famous tragedy, this play is not the thing. However, if you’ve ever wanted to portray the Dane, for a few seconds or a minute or two, then this show just might be the thing, a fun participatory event for those who have dreamed of at least temporary stardom.
Adapted by Damon Horowitz and directed by Sybille Bruun, Becoming Hamlet has streamlined the often-three-hour-play to about a hundred bumpy minutes. The audience has the choice of watching in standard riser seating or participating, in which case they sit on a chair on the floor. Everyone is considered to be Hamlet, as if the conflicted prince has been divided into dozens of beings and personalities. The night I attended, there were about twenty-five Hamlets on the floor and approximately fifteen people in the risers, with plenty of empty seats.
As you enter the theater, characters engage you in conversation — a man in a regal blue suit walked up to me and was surprised when I correctly addressed him as Polonius, so we spoke about whether I was being faithful to Ophelia while studying in Wittenberg. Facilitators in dark cloaks (Tristan Andre, Emily Jackoway, Addy Jenkins, Sevans Martinez) approach you and ask what kind of a role you want, from reading a line on a card to going onstage for something more. I was given the line “I am constant to my purposes” from act five, scene two, and told that I would be led around the right side of the space, then walk slowly to the center, where I would face the audience and make my Shakespearean debut.
While waiting for my moment in the sun — or, in this case, darkness — I couldn’t help but recall two recent dreams in which I was an actor in a play and completely blanked out on my lines, intense fear and embarrassment overwhelming me. So I studied the card relentlessly, even as I occasionally was tapped to deliver other bits of dialogue. Some audience members were led onstage and read lines that were projected on the walls at the right and left.
Alas, a gravedigger (Equiano Mosieri) introduces poor Yorick in classic Shakespeare scene (photo by Valerie Terranova Photography)
The production features fine costumes by Amit Gajwani, with Gertrude (Desiree Baxter) and Ophelia (Jude Feingold) standing out in fabulous shoes. The story has been whittled down to the basics: Hamlet (Horowitz) has returned home to see his recently widowed mother, Gertrude, marry his dead father’s brother, Claudius (David Littleton), who has assumed the crown. Accompanied by his best friend, Horatio (Tyler Moss), Hamlet is told by his father’s ghost (Equiano Mosieri) that Claudius in fact murdered King Hamlet, and he considers revenge. He is in love with Ophelia, whose father, Polonius (Jim Pratzon), is chief counsel to Claudius and whose brother, Laertes (Steven Lamon), is suspicious of Hamlet. As Hamlet appears to be going mad, Claudius summons his nephew’s childhood friend, Guildenkrantz (Truman Gaudoin) — Rosencrantz and Guildenstern have been turned into one person — to be spies for him. There’s a play-within-the-play and a visit to a graveyard, but otherwise various other subplots and minor characters have been excised.
The pacing is inconsistent, since it is dependent on the skills of several dozen nonprofessional actors. Various words are repeated in ways that seem random. The show doesn’t provide new insight into the work; instead, if feels more like a vanity project for Horowitz and the audience, arranged just so they can all play the tormented Danish prince. If you go with that as your goal, not caring about the intricate emotional and psychological aspects of Shakespeare’s story, then you will most likely be fine with what you get.
As my time approached, I devised a plan: Since I was going to deliver my line center stage, only a few feet from my chair, I placed the card facing out. I was tapped on the shoulder, and a facilitator led me on my journey. Finally standing at my spot, I began my very brief soliloquy: “I am constant,” I said defiantly, and then forgot the next word. I looked out at the audience, then, attempting a natural maneuver, at my chair, where I could read the large type. I firmly, proudly stated, “to my purposes,” as if the pause was, well, on purpose.
I sat back down and breathed a huge, silent sigh of relief.
Later, as I was heading for the bus, three women who had been at the show called out to me, “Congratulations!”
I felt like a star.
[Mark Rifkin is a Brooklyn-born, Manhattan-based writer; you can follow him on Substack here.]