Istvan Dugalin ➤

Amelia Sargisson, Stephen Jackman-Torkoff and Qasim Khan in “Hamlet”, Photo by Dahlia Katz

Jessica Carmichael’s Director’s Note references Meghan O’Rourke’s article for Slate, a beautiful piece entitled “Hamlet’s Not Depressed. He’s Grieving.” Having lost my own father this year, it resonated as strongly for me as it did for her. Its insights—into society’s need to see grief stunted and grievers thrust promptly back into the business of life—inform her vision. Steering away from the abstracted, angst-ridden melancholy so often attributed to Shakespeare’s iconic Danish prince, she invites the ensemble and us, their audience, to examine his madness as an embodiment of a very concrete and relatable social experience. Still reeling from his father’s death, Hamlet’s grief grounds this Dream In High Park production with a palpable, earthy potency.

That very earth which Hamlet (Qasim Khan) now considers a “sterile promontory” is a decidedly oppressive presence here. Joshua Quinlan‘s set extends the surrounding park onto the stage with mossy stonework and foliage protruding from dirt. And his costumes reflect this uniformity of terrestrial fate, with the cast dressed in muted greens and khakis. Hamlet stands out, clad in the conventional colour of mourning—black. He sets himself apart, demanding attention be paid to the profound loss everyone is desperate to ignore as “common.” 

To solidify her vision, Carmichael has fixated on Ophelia (Beck Lloyd) as a sort of grief narrator. Weaving snippets of her “mad” song in with some original text, she foreshadows death throughout—specifically, her father’s, but expansive enough to hold space for all deaths. I’m not entirely appreciative of this aspect, though Lloyd is undeniably haunting and persuasive. Her scenes with Khan in particular are quite heart-wrenching.

Carmichael has also altered some of Hamlet’s soliloquies, portioning out segments of text to other characters. The most notable example is “What a piece of work is man,” Hamlet’s meditation on his disenchantment with the world and humanity. The whole opening is delivered facetiously here by Rosencrantz and Guildenstern (Amelia Sargisson and Christo Graham) as they playfully mock his melancholy, subverting the text’s original intention in a way that develops their shared dynamic. Graham and Sargisson have a cute, vaudevillian thing going on, which gives us a glimpse at what Hamlet’s carefree university days might have been like.

He’s no longer up for such capers though. Khan’s Hamlet is viscerally wretched in a way that feels like a deliberate provocation. He is despondent during festivities, angry in the face of disingenuous concern and indulges in perverse comedy whenever people try to reason with him seriously. He’s an electric presence. Moody? That’s the surface read, of course, yet Khan let’s us feel the devastating internal mechanism churning in him.

From the beginning, Stephen Jackman-Torkoff’s Horatio is as tormented as his dear friend. He hangs about Hamlet, his hands outstretched in yearning gestures. Just before “all is silence,” his wracking sobs give the finale an abject punctuation.

Sam Khalilieh’s Polonius was an especially comedic surprise for me. Not only does he bring a certain levity to moments traditionally more severe, his goofy facade almost hints at some desperate barricade against the doom that surrounds Elsinore. It is an inspired choice to have him play, very briefly, a bit part during Ophelia’s funeral scene. Laertes (Dan Mousseau) has a quick, pointed look at him after their interaction suggesting he perhaps sees his father there. It’s an understated, deeply resonant moment that could very well have been a figment of my own imagination.

Shout out to Breton Lalama as Marcellus. His signature, offhand delivery, particularly during the opening scenes, is quite hilarious.  

Those with a deep love of the text may find themselves slightly vexed, not so much by cuts (necessary if you don’t want to hold your audience captive over four hours), but the extraneous additions. There is ample opportunity with Shakespeare to unpack contemporary concerns without messing too much with text. At the risk of sounding obnoxiously purist: If you are going to do Shakespeare, then do Shakespeare! 

That said, the actual Shakespeare here is a carefully considered and heartfelt rendering of a beloved classic. I’m especially pleased with the dark humour, wistful eeriness and gritty texture of the moment at poor Yorick’s grave, an unassuming yet vital scene, of which I’ve always been particularly fond.

Hamlet
running July 21 to September 1, 2024
High Park Amphitheatre (1873 Bloor Street W)
running time: 115 minutes (no intermission)

Beck Lloyd in “Hamlet”, Photo by Dahlia Katz