Hamlet
The Old Vic, London

David Bowden

One moment at the Old Vic summed up the tensions in producing Shakespeare for a modern audience. It came fifteen minutes before the show started when my friend - flowing blond locks, low-slung jeans and wallet-chain - tried to order a bottle of beer at the bar. The upturned nose of a more 'suitably dressed' old lady spoke volumes about the attitudes of the traditional theatre audience. Lord knows what she made of Trevor Nunn's grunge makeover of Hamlet.

Some of the reviews of the mainstream press sadly seem to share such attitudes. It is a shame. The inspiration for Nunn - probably one of the most acclaimed modern directors of the Bard in the world - is clear. Hamlet deals with so many themes (death, madness, loss of parental bonds, fear of maturity) that have dominated alternative teen culture over the past decade that it screams out for reinterpretation. The point is rammed home with an exceptionally youthful cast: most notably 23-year-old Ben Whishaw in the lead. With his frail build, gaunt complexion and general air of melancholy, he could easily have been a member of Radiohead circa 'O.K. Computer', rather than the heir to the Danish throne.

The creeping hand of modernisation does not stop there. Ophelia is played as a lovesick schoolgirl obsessed with The Strokes; the royal family of Denmark have morphed into a media-savvy political party, and the attempt to parallel Claudius with a certain leading British politician is almost scandalous in its barefaced cheek. The kids in casual clothes with messy hair are separated by a huge chasm from the conservative men in gray suits. When Hamlet contemplates suicide in his famous 'To be, or not to be…' soliloquy, he does so while toying with a bottle of pills. Nunn stopped short of adding peroxide to Whishaw's hair, but the temptation must have been unbearable.

It is easy to mock such attempts at relevance, but it is obvious that Nunn is trying to bring something new out of the play. This version is not so much about Hamlet's need to avenge his father and replace his usurper; it is about the loss of parents his and the harrowing experience of growing up. The most powerful scene is Hamlet's wrought exchange with his mother (the revelatory Imogen Stubbs) in which he begs her not to sleep with Claudius. The sheer Oedipal intensity strikes a mighty resonance, from when Hamlet violently wipes the make-up from her face to when he ends collapsed in the fetal position in her lap, Gertrude stroking his hair with almost impossible tenderness. This Hamlet is the tragedy of that relationship's breakdown and provides a very visceral psychological study into the most cerebral of Shakespearean characters.

Of course in bringing out one hidden aspect of a celebrated work one must be careful not to overshadow its more famous features. Given the theme of madness this is a suitably, and frustratingly, schizophrenic production. Humour has been emphasised greatly but, alas, at the expense of the tragedy - much of the second half fails to engage the audience, and as the final scene squeaks by it feels as if (maybe in keeping with the teenage theme) the cast have climaxed too early. Likewise, while Hamlet's feigned madness is gleefully vaudevillian, Ophelia's actual breakdown belies slightly naïve drama-school roots, and her eventual demise is a relief rather than a disaster.

On its own the play seems strangely stilted and half-finished. But this is not William Shakespeare's Hamlet, but Trevor Nunn's. It is impossible to separate this production from our preconceptions about the Dane, and Nunn is probing the audience's psyche almost as much as the lead. It is a noble experiment with a young cast who have seemingly bright futures, steadied by seasoned hands such as Stubbs and Nicholas Jones' brilliant take on the fussy codger Polonius. Whishaw deserves special credit for taking on a role that is always struggling to compete with his more esteemed parents: Olivier and Gielgud. It is a fascinating, compelling and enjoyable vision of Hamlet, but maybe one that raises more questions than it answers. Which, after four hundred years, is no mean feat.

Till 31 July 2004.