Right-o. Time for a catch up on Ye Olde Blogg. Last time I left, I was due to pop off to Somerset with my fellow poets (an acronym for poncey old english, tantrum-ing students). That was lovely. Such beautiful, lush countryside and a real sense of peace. Living in England, I often forget how lucky I am to do so. Yes there are problems here, but one look at those rolling green hills makes me so proud and so happy that I live here. Oh God, you can almost hear the Elgar playing over that can’t you? Sorry.
After I got back from said Patriotic Epiphany, I attended two rather fantastic events in London. The first was the ‘J. W. Waterhouse: The Modern Pre-Raphaelite’ exhibition at the Royal Academy and the second was the Donmar Warehouse production of Hamlet at the Wyndham’s theatre. Both of them I attended with my friend Alexandra, who provided great company at both events.
The exhibtion was utterly brilliant. It documented the career of John William Waterhouse, one of my favourite painters, from his early days as a student of the Academy, to his later works. As such it almost seemed like a painting in itself; a snaking timeline of progression. I had seen some of the major works (The Lady of Shalott, for example) in the Tate before, but others came from private collections – how jealous I am of those lucky few who own such precious pieces of art – and I felt truly privileged to simply be looking at these rare, exquisite beauties. I know how flowery and artifical my language seems, but nothing but my crude exaggerations will allow me, in my infinite inferiority, to express simply how much I adore the pre-Raphaelites. Their paintings seem traditional, but are so passionate and subversive when observed more closely. They truly embody the title of ‘Desperate Romantics’, as the recent tv series claimed. Waterhouse was one of the later pre-Raphaelites (the original brotherhood being John Everett Millais, William Holman Hunt and Dante Gabriel Rossetti) and though Millais has always been my favourite – one of the few citizens of my hometown to be truly remarkable – you can really see how Waterhouse developed the style into something even more strikingly beautiful and powerful. The cool silence that echoed round the stuffy, crowded rooms was as poetic as the paintings that created it. Even the mumblings from the people observing – my own inane comments included – were soaked up by the canvases, until the only words left were Waterhouse’s visual ones.
Then I went shopping, so the day was just perfect really.
A few days later I returned to London in order to see HAMLET! I was jizzing myself in excitement at this prospect due to two factors; Hamlet is my favourite Billy S play and Jude ‘nomnomnommanslagbutyoustillwould’ Law was playing the Dane. Firstly, I was absolutely hit in the face with theatrelust when I walked into the Wyndham’s. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to make love to a building so much before. Such an exquisitely designed place, ornate yet intimate, and so lovely to be in. It seemed almost wrong that such a simply adorable place should be the home of such claustrophobic, festering family dynamics for three and a bit hours a night!
I’d heard fairly sniffy comments about this production, but was determined not to let them colour my excitement. As the curtain rose on a stoney, imposing set and a lonely Hamlet, silent yet angry, on stage I was drawn in. The set was very simple throughout. Merciless, high grey stone walls; a large wooden door. All the actors were dwarfed by their surroundings, adding to the suffocating nature of Elsinore. As Claudius made his first entrace, a huge red flag was dropped to adorn the back wall, as sycophantic courtiers welcomed their new King. With this backdrop he seemed more like a political dictator than an old fashioned monarch, but this served to emphasise his cruel, domineering power. In contrast to his power, the women were dressed in dowdy, neutral costumes, establishing the patriarchy of this society, and how it is the control of men that determines the directions their lives take. In terms of style, I thought the simplicity of this production was excellent and suited Shakespeare’s text brilliantly.
The success of any version of Hamlet depends largely on the title performance and I am happy to say that Jude Law exceeded all my expectations. I’ve never thought of him as a terrible actor, but never as particularly good one either and I have to say that I had my reservations as to whether he could deliver in such a devastatingly powerful role as Hamlet. He did. He didn’t portray a Hamlet that I had ever envisaged whilst studying the text. I always imagine the introverted, quiet Hamlet – contemplative, brooding, never letting his emotions show themselves physically, not even when alone. Law was the complete opposite – in his soliloquies he seemed like a butterfly trapped in a glass, flitting about in confusion and terror. A terrific physical performance.
And, as I said to Alex as I left the theatre, “there is nothing I wouldn’t let that man do to me in the back of a car.”
