Today's Topic: A Eulogy for Ophelia

Here we are, Act 4 of The Tragedy of Hamlet, Prince of Denmark. One thing lead to another and Ophelia (Hamlet's ex-girlfriend) went a little off the rails and died. The whole dying bit was mostly contributed to the fact that her ex-boyfriend was supposedly crazy, that she supposedly was the cause of said craziness, and that her father was not-so supposedly dead.

Yeah, we've gotten to that part of a Shakespearean play where everyone starts dropping like flies.

The final moments of Ophelia went a little something like this: After she went around giving people flowers and singing and having a psychotic breakdown, our main gal decided to take a trip to a willow next to a nearby brook. There, as she was trying to hang flowers from the willow, she fell over and into the water below. She was alright for a few moments before her clothing filled with water and pulled her down and effectively drowned her. It is also noted that when Ophelia fell in she made no move to save herself or even try to get out of the water, instead just sinking in- completely uncaring towards the danger she was in.

What's also interesting is that this is one of the few deaths in the play that isn't specifically acted out in text. Instead, the audience (plus Claudius and Laertes) is informed of the death through Gertrude, who enters the room explaining what has happened to the shocked men. A non-on-screen death is a fate shared by Guildenstern and Rosencrantz who are also proclaimed to be dead by the end of the play, but that's a story for another time.

Instead of the usual analysis of Ophelia, her madness, and her death, we will be reflecting on Ophelia through the unique means of a eulogy that would be delivered at her funeral. I, your esteemed blog-owner, will be writing this eulogy completely through the use of first person voice. I won't be giving myself a specific character, nor will I be the priest, and will try to keep this eulogy as personal and heartfelt without making a completely new character out of it. Through these means, I shall be indirectly conveying my thoughts and feelings towards Ophelia's death and how I feel her character needs to be conveyed in her final moments on Earth and in the minds of both the real-life audience and the audience within the play.

So without further ado, here is a eulogy for late Ophelia.

Ophelia was the loved one of many. Friends, family, we are gathered here today to remember the life of a woman who endured much in her young life but lived that life with compassion and to the fullest none the less. Born to the late Polonius, Ophelia was a not only a fine daughter but a loving sister to her brother Laertes. No matter how much they asked of her, she would go above and beyond her family's requests of her and asked for nothing in return. This is the image of Ophelia that her family will always cherish when they remember her in their prayers.

And while the fair Ophelia was indeed the caring and wonderful daughter and sister, she was also the once equally loving companion of our lord Prince Hamlet. Their love was sweet, as the letters and gifts show us now, but cut brief only because of Ophelia's duty to the crown and to her country. After discussing the relationship with her family, Ophelia sacrificed her love for Lord Hamlet in order to let our prince pursue relationships and marriages that would be for the better of his lordship and the royal bloodline itself. It was in itself a noble cause and worthy of only the highest respect, as she valued the needs of her loved one and his people over the needs of herself and their love.

Alas, the losses in her life lead to a tragic end. She was a victim of circumstance, as she could not have predicted the madness of her prince or the death of her father. Her emotions lead over her mind as her mourning grew to an alarming degree. It was this depression that did not allow her to think properly and save her life, and for that she was not in any way guilty of the offense that is suicide. This is not the Ophelia we must remember, for this was the image of a woman in pain- and let no one tell us that pain is the only aspect that defines a person. 

When I think of Ophelia, the only image that comes to mind is that of a young maiden who's passion and heart were what made her who she was. Even in her unwell state, she still tried to present those around her with gifts of remembrance and thought, and instead of bringing those around her down, she attempted to be in what her mind was well.  Her death only proves to me that we should cherish what we are given in life, as it can all be taken away within the blink of an eye.

-Chrislynn Idis  


P.S. I apologize for the shorter post. The goal is to make the people cry, not put them to sleep.

Today's Topic: Hamlet's Dilemma

Finally! A break from movie adaptation analysis! Instead of our usual discussion on the interpretations of various scenes from Hamlet, Prince of Denmark, we will be looking at the text itself and answering some important analysis questions.

In specific, we will be looking at Hamlet's hesitation over killing his uncle-now-step-father, King Claudius. 

But first, some background. Our favorite Fresh Prince of Bel Air hatched a scheme at the end of Act 2 to prove (mostly to himself) that King Claudius had indeed killed the late King Hamlet. The plan was rather simple- Hamlet constructed a play called The Mousetrap that would be performed before the court. The play would mirror the events that the Ghost had told Hamlet had happened: There's a king and a queen who are very much in love and happy. The jealous brother of the king kills the him and steals his crown and his wife. Hamlet's goal was to show the play to Claudius and observe him- watching for any reaction that would tell our prince that Claudius was guilty.

And it worked. We never get to read the end of The Mousetrap because as the brother kills the king in the play, King Claudius rises from his seat, declares that he needs light, and sends everyone away. It's clear evidence of his guilt, and Hamlet knows it too.

Fast forward a bit, and we find ourselves in the King's private chapel. After having sent everyone else away, King Claudius is in the chapel alone and confesses to his crimes. He openly says that it was true, that he killed his brother in cold blood and took everything from him. Clearly guilt-written, Claudius struggles the fact that he cannot possibly be forgiven for such a horrible crime, especially when he still has all the spoils that he gained from it. Nonetheless, he hopes for any possibility of forgiveness, gets down on his knees, and starts to pray.

And here enters Hamlet. He clearly has come for any idle chit-chat with his uncle, and has every intention to kill the king where he kneels. Hamlet knew for sure that Claudius was guilty of murdering his father and then, because he has no doubts, came to the chapel to finish the job.

Except, he hesitates. Not because he any qualms over killing or anything of that sort, but because Claudius is praying. Hamlet reasons to himself that it would be unfitting to kill Claudius right then and there for one main reason- he doesn't want to send Claudius to heaven. Should he kill Claudius as he prays, Hamlet will have killed him while he was making peace with his wrongdoings, thus making him fit for a passage into that great big basement in the sky. And our prince doesn't anything short of eternal damnation for his dear uncle, so he stops himself and resolves to kill Claudius while he is in the middle of doing something evil. 

Now this is where the questioning starts. This scene says a lot in terms of the characters and what should or shouldn't have been done. Let's start with the basics: whether Hamlet should have hesitated at all. Many people will and have criticized Hamlet's lack of action within the play, as he does a lot more talking than walking so to speak. It's a common belief that it would have been better for everyone had he just killed Claudius right then and there in that chapel. And what's more, these beliefs are not entirely without some truth- a lot less people would have died and a lot more problems could have been avoided (or not depending on how you look at it).

However, in my personal opinion, I don't really blame Hamlet for hesitating and I also think he's not wrong for doing what he does. Sure, I'm more of an action-before-thinking sort, but I'm also not Hamlet's situation. Killing Claudius isn't about just killing Claudius, it's more so about what it means to Hamlet. Hamlet isn't just looking to kill his father's murderer, he looking to avenge his father- to settle the score. If Claudius dies and Hamlet knows he killed him while he was repenting, the prince has ever reason to believe that Claudius will not suffer the same fate his father did and not be doomed to an eternity of regret. It would make things even between everyone, and that matters to Hamlet- who has to live with what he's about to do. 

What's at stake here is Hamlet's ability to move on. He may not ever be able to be at peace with himself knowing he didn't do all he could to carry out his father's final wishes- which was extremely valuable to people then (and to a great extent even now). Hamlet is more a symbolic sorta guy, always comparing two and two together and pointing out the meaning in things (which was proven with both the recorder incident and Ophelia). In the end, I honestly don't believe is going to care what happens to himself after Claudius is dead. What matters to him is peace of mind, which he clearly hasn't had since his father died. If he dies because everyone assumes he's crazy or never gets the throne, he doesn't strike me as the type to care- he even disregarded both in his 'To Be or Not to Be' speech and in his interaction with Guildenstern and Rosencrantz. 

Claudius on the other hand is a bit more complicated. Is he guilty? Yes, he killed his brother and took his stuff. Pretty messed up stuff. But is he sorry? It's clear he not a heartless monster, because he did show guilt and remorse over his actions. He certainly human, granted not a good one, but human and therefore has a conscience. A lot of people don't like to see their villains like that- they like to see them in the exact way they see them in their heads. They like to see them cruel, unloving, unforgiving, and without a heart- but that's not how the real world works. I'm not implying that Claudius deserves Brother of the Year 2015 here, but it is worth pondering whether or not he can be sorry about what he did.

On that note, I don't think imagine Claudius's situation in the same way as a bank robber apologizing for his crimes while keeping the money is the right way to view this. From what I can predict, Claudius evening the odds isn't going to solve very many things. Instead, it might just make things worse for everyone- because if no one's noticed, the next in line is unstable Hamlet in the face of a not-so Norwegian invasion. Not only that, but to not only have your king die but have just been told your new king killed the old one? Not very good for the public. What I'm trying to say is that Claudius has a lot more to consider than just himself, and it can hinder his decision to turn himself in (and I'm trying to give Claudius the benefit of the doubt here and assume that he's more 'big-picture' oriented). Therefore, he doesn't have to take immediate action just to feel sorry- which has been proven by everyone's favorite prince himself.

Now if only people would stop dying who aren't Claudius.

-Chrislynn Idis

P.S. - Saw Age of Ultron this weekend- that was cool. Liked Scarlet Witch more than I thought I would. Didn't like the Black Widow and Banner romance. Why the felt the need to make them an item, I have no idea. Thoroughly enjoyed Vision's appearance. Did NOT thoroughly enjoy Quicksilver's death. Believe in Jarvis, don't accept Friday.

Um, spoiler?

Today's Topic: To Be, Or Not To Be

..., that is the question—

Whether 'tis Nobler in the mind to suffer

The Slings and Arrows of outrageous Fortune,

Or to take Arms against a Sea of troubles,

And by opposing, end them? To die, to sleep—

No more; and by a sleep, to say we end

The Heart-ache, and the thousand Natural shocks

That Flesh is heir to? 'Tis a consummation

Devoutly to be wished. To die, to sleep,

To sleep, perchance to Dream; Aye, there's the rub,

For in that sleep of death, what dreams may come,

When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,

Must give us pause. There's the respect

That makes Calamity of so long life:

For who would bear the Whips and Scorns of time,

The Oppressor's wrong, the proud man's Contumely,

The pangs of despised Love, the Law’s delay,

The insolence of Office, and the Spurns

That patient merit of the unworthy takes,

When he himself might his Quietus make

With a bare Bodkin? Who would these Fardels bear,

To grunt and sweat under a weary life,

But that the dread of something after death,

The undiscovered Country, from whose bourn

No Traveller returns, Puzzles the will,

And makes us rather bear those ills we have,

Than fly to others that we know not of.

Thus Conscience does make Cowards of us all,

And thus the Native hue of Resolution

Is sicklied o'er, with the pale cast of Thought,

And enterprises of great pitch and moment,

With this regard their Currents turn awry,

And lose the name of Action.

In what is arguably the most famous soliloquy in all of modern English literature, our favorite little prince of Denmark contemplates death and whether or not suicide is a better option as opposed to living. Contrary to popular belief, when Hamlet has this Socrates-moment he's not talking to that equally famous skull that the play is always associated with. The skull actually shows up later, but that's not especially important right now (his name is Yorick by the way). What is important is what Hamlet is saying in this soliloquy and why this line is the line that everyone who studies literature knows (even if your first language wasn't English!)

We'll keep the details brief, but in summary, Hamlet is talking almost to himself about taking his own life and how by doing so he would be free of all the burdens of life. He also posses that while death is a release that seems appealing to anyone, what happens after death is a complete mystery- and that it could be worse than living. He finishes by concluding that it is the nature of men to doubt and to have a conscience, and that because they have one that they are prevented from taking action. The reason Hamlet decided to be a Debby Downer is because he is actually reflected on his hesitation to avenge his father's murder on his uncle (shoutout to King Claudius).

Normally, I'd love to go more into the text and how it expresses Hamlet's character but there is an assignment to be done. Like last week, we shall be doing an analysis on not the script, but the movie adaptations for the famous "To Be or Not To Be." For these adaptations we have our returning guests, directors Zeffirelli, Branagh, and Almereyda. In addition to our three musketeers, we have director Laurence Olivier joining the fray.

In this post, I will be analyzing the scenes one by one, commenting on acting, screenplay, soundtrack,  mood, and overall effect of each interpretation. If anything else catches my eye, I will be sure to include it in my analysis. Also, I'd like to apologize beforehand about the length of each analysis. I'm a bit preoccupied with AP exams and need to keep this assignment short so I can resume with my studies.

Allons-y.

The Zeffirelli Version

Hello darkness, my old friend. Boy, Zeffirelli sure has a thing for shrouding his actors in darkness. Yet again, Zeffirelli's actors rely heavily on the spoken word rather than the visual displays that go along with their lines. However, unlike the ghost scene earlier in this movie, this scene has bit more lighting it in and uses that scarce light as part of the overall effect of the performance. Gibson's Hamlet has his soliloquy in a tomb, presumably the royal family's tomb where his father's corpse resides. The only source of light in what is supposed to be a final resting place for the kings of old is in a single opening in the ceiling (disregarding the entrance of course) that allows for the audience to get a clear view of Hamlet and his surroundings. Zeffirelli uses this lighting incredibly well, as in the climax of Hamlet's speech and when he is taking his leave from the tombs, he looks up towards the ceiling light. I thought this was interesting because along with his previous action of praying, it makes for some very nice religious imagery. Salvation was often looked for from above, which exactly is what Gibson is doing in this soliloquy about death.

Speaking of Gibson, let's talking about the acting. Like my analysis of the ghost scene, the actors in Zeffirelli's version stay true to the "let your emotions do the work" mentality. And I truly do enjoy it here, as Gibson speaks with varying emotions throughout the scene, from sadness to anger and everything in between. He looks to be on the verge of tears at certain points, as his internal struggle eats away at his emotional stability and reflects itself in his swift, abrupt movements and mood shifts. It helps emphasize Hamlet's inner conflict with the choices he's being forced to make and it's some powerful stuff.

Thinking more broadly, I found the setting among the most fitting of all the four versions. It's the perfect setting for thoughts about death and release- a  room where death engulfs the very essence of the room. The camera even shifts to show the audience the bones of past royals and dead relatives of our protagonist. Furthermore, our trusty string quartet is no where to be found in the background. The only sounds are of Gibson's breathing, his footsteps, and the echo of his voice. It adds to that 'alone' vibe I'm getting from this interpretation- Hamlet's alone with his thoughts and there's not a single person in his world than can accompany him on his misadventures. I feel like there's always a certain stillness to these scenes, and I'm not sure if it's that way for the entire movie or just these two scenes that I've looked at this far. 

The Branagh Version

Branagh's version makes its return, now with a 40% more Hamlet and 100% more dagger. Much like their respective ghost scenes, Branagh's interpretation of Hamlet's angst fit is far brighter than Zeffirelli's version. Here, Branagh's Hamlet is in a brightly lit ballroom of sorts (?) with mirrors and tiles and gold linings and white walls and-

You get the point. The bright setting helps to contrast Hamlet's dark suit and his dark thoughts, and the mood is helped along by our ever-faithful string quartet.

What sets this version apart from the other three is the use of mirrors during the soliloquy. Instead of speaking to this air and looking around at his surroundings, Hamlet's gaze is fixed on his own reflection as he slowly approaches it with each sentence. It makes the scene less of a soliloquy, and more of a conversation with himself as he tries to convince his reflection of the truth behind life and death. He even goes as far as to pull out an actual dagger when he talks about release through means of "a mere dagger". He points this dagger at his reflection, talking about conscience and second guessing oneself as he taps the edge of the blade to the side of his face. He's walking the line between survival and suicide, and his use of the dagger helps convey that to the audience.

This effect is further brought along by Branagh's acting. He doesn't seem to be filled with deep remorse and a colorful range of emotions like Gibson's Hamlet, nor does he seem like a hollow shell of a man like Almereyda and Olivier's princes. He seems more boarder-line insane, as he smiles and speaks to himself with a snarky almost condescending tone. He's speaking as though the man in the mirror isn't really him, and that he's so out of touch with himself that he can even begin to threaten the other man's life with that dagger. He whispers with a sinister undertone that really sends chills up the viewer's spine, and it makes the interaction a little scary as well as thought-provoking.

All in all, this version focused less on the philosophy and meaning of Hamlet's words and more so on his mental instability that is beginning to present itself. While we know that Hamlet suggested to Marcellus and Cinnamon Bun that he would be acting strangely in the future, it was assumed it would all be part of an act in order to carry out his revenge against his uncle. This scene however has Hamlet alone, where he doesn't need to act like a loon, but does anyway. So it leads audiences to a very big question- where is the line between the act and the real Hamlet? Or if there even is one to begin with?

The Almereyda Version

Flash-forward to modern day New York and we find ourselves with Almereyda's version of Hamlet's soliloquy. As previously mentioned on the previous post, this modern day Hamlet has a lot of freedoms when it comes to props, settings, and other elements when bringing the prince to life on the big screen. Hawke's Hamlet delivers his soliloquy in your average blockbuster (RIP Blockbuster) in the action section of the store, stumbling aimlessly through the aisle as he looks at the shelves with an uninterested eye. The irony of this is that he talking about taking action in the face of doubt while walking through the action section with at least 12 labels that read 'action'. How subtle.

Anyway, I'd actually like more so to talk about Hawke's Hamlet in his scene. He's looks rather disheveled, wearing a knitted wool puff-hat with what looks like a rather nice looking jacket. He walks with a weird teeter, and he looks around with a dazed look in his eye- and he can't seem to focus on any one thing in his surroundings. He looks like he's in a drunken stupor, not unlike that one guy at a blockbuster at three in the morning who's wife just left him and he's rethinking his entire life (which we know he is because the beginning of the soliloquy is entirely through narration). We all know that guy, and it's conveyed this way perhaps to call attention to Hamlet's lack of options his life.

Hawke's Hamlet also plays in nicely with the mood around him. He's walking through normal society, which is still going on around him, looking like a dead man walking. Hawke speaks with a monotone, detached voice- the scenes and colors pass but he just looks half dead on his feet. It reminds me of a purgatory like state, were it's not heaven or hell, just empty.

The imagery is also something worth noting in this interpretation. Besides the action section he's browsing through, the screens on the wall are the only things active in the entire scene. On the screens of fire, explosions, and murders- all of which are used to convey the inner turmoil and presumably emotions that are not normally seen through facial expressions or through Hawke's speech.

The Olivier Version

Last, and somewhat least, comes the Olivier adaptation. Truthfully, I've never been overly fond of black and white movies. Not because they're black and white, but because the acting never sits right with me. Ever scene looks cliché and it all feel like a bad episode of the Power Rangers, but without any cool outfits or robots or lasers. Bit of a let down, really.

Getting back to the topic at hand, Olivier's Hamlet delivers his soliloquy atop a cliff overlooking the rolling waves of the sea. The camera is stationary for most of it, and shows Hamlet lying on a rock, looking very girly, and speaking with almost as much emotion as the Hamlet in Almereyda's version. The beginning is spoken through narration, which is again assumed to be Hamlet's thoughts as he overlooks the cliff. It's extremely similar to the Almereyda version with each Hamlet being detached from his emotions, but Olivier's Hamlet seems more final of his fate than the newer Hamlet. That dagger makes its appearance again, but this time it looks as though Olivier is really going to do himself in and bring our story down a different path and maybe make things interesting.

Alas, no such thing happens.

Instead, with the help of some dramatic music, Hamlet stumbles upon the thought of life after death and the doubts he has, bringing his suicide attempt to a halt. This is the only instance of dramatic realization that I found in the four versions, as the knowledge was just a reminder to the other Hamlets in the other adaptations. It plays nicely to the hesitation theme that prevents Hamlet from taking action in his dilemmas, and I respect it for that reason.

I'd also like to applaud this version for the ending part of the soliloquy. After Hamlet reflects on hesitation and conscience, he walks away from the cliff and into the fog, his last line said with his back turned to the audience and looking somehow more defeated than he had on that rock. I feel like Olivier's Hamlet came to that rock feeling like he had no more options left and determined to end his miserable existence, but failed to take action even for himself- thus why he looks even more forlorn as he walks away. It's an interesting take on the matter, and it almost is distracting enough for me to forget the faults that black and white movies bring with them.


-Chrislynn Idis


P.S. Happy Cinco de Mayo everybody. Arriba.

Today's Topic: The Ghost Scene

True to my word, our first in depth analysis shall be on Shakespeare's The Tragedy of Hamlet, Prince of Denmark. In specific, today's topic will be on the infamous "ghost scene" that encompasses most (if not all) of Act I, Scene 5. This scene involves the young Prince's interaction with the ghost of his dead father, the late king of Denmark. The father-son duo speak alone, for Marcellus and the pure, beautiful Cinnamon Bun (also known as Horatio) have not caught up to their young lord yet. During this interaction, the ghost tells Hamlet that he was actually murdered, contradicting the popular belief throughout Denmark that he had died of a snake bite. Furthermore, the ghost also reveals to Hamlet that it was his brother Claudius (Hamlet's biological uncle and current stepfather) that murdered him. Get some poison, pour it into one unsuspecting napper's ear in a garden, and voila! The recipe for one very dead king. The ghost implores his son to avenge his death by taking out the now King Claudius, who not only stole his brother's crown but his woman too.

Yeah, what a great brother.

The ghost scene ends when the ghost decides it's time to go back to burning damnation (around line 91) which gives Hamlet just enough time to monologue before Marcellus and Cinnamon Bun rejoin the scene. Normally, I'd expect that my first entry would be an analysis of the text itself but nay. In an interesting twist, we won't breaking down the text per se but rather how the ghost scene is interpreted in film.

In particular, I'll be looking at three distinct adaptations of the scene by directors Zeffirelli, Branagh, and Almereyda. Before we begin, it's important to recognize that these three directors have different interpretations of how this scene should look and that none of their visions are the "right way" to interpret the ghost scene. After all, it's just a script- it's up to the actors and directors to bring the words on the page to life in a visual performance. In my brief analysis I'll be looking at how the acting itself, the soundtracks/sound effects, visual elements, and the overall effect of each interpretation.

So, let's begin.

The Zeffirelli Version

Brace yourselves everyone, because this version is dark. And no, I don't mean dark in the sense that it's sinister or morbid. I mean that it's literally dark- like really dark. The scene is almost completely shrouded in shadow and blackness, with the only thing the audience can make out clearly being Hamlet's face (thanks to the moonlight). When I first saw the scene, it was in my English classroom with very poor light cancelation making it even harder to distinguish between facial expressions and where the ghost even is. At one point, I even thought there was no person playing the ghost at all, as the lighting was so terrible that I couldn't see into the shadows where the ghost was standing.

But putting those outside factors aside, the scene itself was extremely dark and was mostly dialogue based. The real effect didn't come from what you saw, but rather from what you heard. That being said, there was no music present during the scene. Sure, there was your typical string quartet following Hamlet around before the scene started, but as soon as the ghost opened his mouth to speak the music stopped. The only audio effect was the wind, which could be heard softly blowing as the ghost spoke. It really gave the scene a certain stillness, as if the world was stopping for this conversation to take place and that the only thing that mattered were the ghost's words and the raw emotions of the characters.

One of the most notable features about Zeffirelli's interpretation is that amount of passion that went into Hamlet and his father's characters. It's remarkable in that it never feels like they're reading off a centuries old script, but rather interacting in a way that feels genuine and heartfelt. Starting with Hamlet, who's facial expressions are the easiest to make out, Gibson portrays a horrified Hamlet who seems paralyzed with fear (and maybe a lot little bit of shock) as the ghost of his father speaks to him. He's visibly shaking and wide-eyed throughout the interaction, and when he speaks it's with a small, weak voice. He reminds me of a child in that way, afraid of the monsters under his bed that are becoming all too real.

However, I think Scofield's acting really steals the show here. The ghost speaks with such deep remorse and sorrow, especially when accounting how he never had the chance to repent for his sins or have a reckoning with the choices he made throughout his life. Scofield plays a broken man here, who is far beyond saving and only wishes for his son to correct the wrongs his death left in the world.

The interpretation is perhaps the most true to Hamlet's time of origin roots, with the characters dressed in old-fashion European clothing not too far off from clothing worn around Shakespeare's time. In my opinion it adds a certain authenticity to the film, as if this version would have been a mirror of the interpretation that Shakespeare had in mind when he wrote the script. If anything, it really adds to the eerie atmosphere that Zeffirelli was trying to capture in this scene. You can't help but hold your breath along with Hamlet while watching this.

The Branagh Version

Branagh's Hamlet is almost the complete opposite of Zeffirelli's, and perhaps that's not a bad thing. Instead of taking the somber yet somewhat uncanny route, Branagh's version is all about fear. And not just showing the audience the fear that Branagh's Hamlet feels- but bringing the audience along for the ride. In the moments before the ghost appears, Hamlet can be seen running through a snow-covered wooded area. He's panicked, he's half-yelling his lines, and the camera is switching rapidly between scenes of smoke fuming from cracks in the ground to quick pans of the trees that Hamlet is running through. It makes the viewers anxious and nervous, as if they were the ones running in the field, trying to get away from something they can't see. Like a nightmare.

And then the echoing ghost voice can be heard, and it sounds demonic and scary enough to put your hairs on end. Then, with some slow pans across the woods, Hamlet's frightened face, and a quick jump scare, Blessed's ghost appears and the real "ghost scene" begins. I thoroughly enjoyed this feeling right off the bat, as they used special effects and quick camera cuts to bring the audience closer to the story. It's certainly more action packed (for lack of a better term) and it feels much more active than the other two versions. While the ghost is explaining to Hamlet the circumstances surrounding his death and his disgust over his wife and brother, the camera cuts to several flashbacks, which show us what happened in the past rather than have it conveyed to use through the spoken word alone. Again, it adds to the more quick paced and flowing feeling of the scene, as there is hardly ever a dull moment throughout the conversation.

Another notable difference is the fact that the ghost is almost completely monotone throughout his explanation. He speaks with a hiss, with no emotions to speak of while revealing the truth to Hamlet. It contrasts greatly to the other versions, because this version of the ghost doesn't feel like a father speaking to his son. More so, it feels more like the angel of death speaking to some poor pitiful soul, delivering the horrible truth about the death of his father (and he stark white eyes certainly don't help either).

The lighting is much more white based, with the snow where the "present" is taking place, to the white halls of the castle during the flashbacks. Even the King himself was murdered in a snow-covered garden that serves to highlight the vibrant colors of other props and clothing. The white feels equally fitting for a ghost scene, as ghosts in popular media are often depicted as translucent, white, floating figures that haunt every toddlers dreams. There is certainly much more use of colors and lights in this version, with bright red coats and dark coats to bring out the contrast in each scene.

The Almereyda Version

Last, but certainly not least, we have a modern adaptation in the form of Almereyda's version. Unlike the last two, Almereyda's version takes place in modern-day New York, with the key components of the play replaced by a modern equivalent. Instead of kings of countries we're given heads of corporations, and it's an interesting approach to the much needed revisions in a modern story. If I have the time I'll probably take it upon myself to watch the whole thing.

Regardless, we have here the brightest of the three versions, with the entire scene in view and each character clearly defined. Another interesting detail that I think is worth noting is that this ghost scene is the only one of the three that shows both Hamlet and the ghost in the same shot for a noticeable period of time. In fact, this even goes so far as to have the least amount of cuts out of the adaptations, as the camera doesn't have to keep switching between Hamlet and the ghost. Interestingly, the camera follows the movements of the actors, resulting in longer, uncut scenes throughout this encounter. It feels less like a back-and-forth interaction and more so like a believable, modern conversation (Minus of course the Shakespearean language).

Another interesting point is that this conversation is possibly the most intimate of them all. Shepard's ghost gets up close and personal with Hawke's Hamlet, backing him into walls while he speaks, holding Hamlet's head in his hands while trying to convey a point, and almost overwhelming him with his presence- and it put me on edge as well. One of the most touching parts was at the end, where the ghost is about to depart. Where all the other ghosts would fade with their final 'adieu', this ghost departs after sharing a hug with Hamlet. In this way, it rivals the emotional depth of Zeffirelli's, because even though this ghost never speaks with too much emotion than necessary, the last hug feels like a true father saying goodbye to his son. And I won't lie, it touched me a little.

The final noticeable aspect about this version was the normalcy of it all. The conversation takes place in a small flat in the city with a television, typical furniture, and a balcony that looks out onto the bustling city below. When the ghost enters, there's no change in the environment that immediately screams "ghost scene". You can even still hear the noises associated with New York traffic bellow while the conversation is taking place. The television is only thing that makes a subtle change with the scene, where it switches from a regular channel to a oddly warped scene of damnation and hell to symbolize the ghost's current purgatory. It feels odd to have so much normalcy where you would expect flickering lights or everyone's trusty string quartet, but instead be given a music-less, ordinary New York living room. Even the ghost looks like your everyday individual- he's not shrouded in darkness or a pale harbinger of death, but looks perfectly human. I'm not sure whether I prefer this interpretation of the ghost over the others, but I can say with certainty that I respect it. It's a bold move, certainly.

Closing it up

After reading the ghost scene directly from the text and watching all three adaptations of the same script, I can't say for sure that I have an idea of how I would approach the ghost scene if given the chance. I can only say I would have viewed it similarly to Zeffirelli- focusing on the emotion behind the dialogue and the weight of each line rather than the visual appeal of the film or play. I feel it's most important to get that emotion across in the best way possible, because while this is indeed a critical moment in developing the plot and conflict later on in the story, it's also a grieving, frustrated, confused, and horrified prince meeting his father once again. And I don't imagine the ghost of his father would be any less emotional than his son is.

Looking at these scenes, it would be wrong of me to say I had a favorite because each film brings a unique spin and interpretation of the ghost scene that is charming in their own right. I'm looking forward to reading further into the play and perhaps watching more of these adaptations. And no, it's not because we get to watch movies during class.

Ok, maybe a little.

-Chrislynn Idis

Today's Topic: Day 1 (Sort Of)

You know, you'd think I would've taken the hint that when all my friends say the Blogger app keeps crashing that I would maybe, just maybe, not use it for posting purposes.

Well, you'd be wrong. And that's basically how I lost my first draft for this post. I've been wrong about quite a few things this week. The first being that I was under the earlier impression that only AP English students were required to make blogs and post their class assignments for a grade.


It's been less than twenty-four hours since I started the first draft of the first post for Shakespeare and You (Plus Others) and less than an hour before that since the blog's creation. I have plenty of first impressions that I will be sharing along with a general reminder to myself about what will be posted on this blog.

When I originally wrote this entry, I was sitting in the second floor science wing feeling extremely bored.
The reason I wasn't in the third floor science wing seeing that python the biology department recently acquired was because the last time I journeyed there, I received very odd stares from the female teachers. Which in itself is weird considering they never even saw me with the dead cat earlier this year.

But I digress.

First things first, Blogger seems fairly simple at first glance. It's pretty standard blogging format, nothing too out of the ordinary or anything too complicated to understand. The use of urls to 'add' users to your... Follow list (?) is somewhat irksome, I must admit. I'd much rather just look up their username and visit their blog, with a choice to follow them given in the upper corners of the dash. But maybe that's just a privilege of tumblr and I've been spoiled after so many years.

I appreciate the home menu the desktop version of Blogger has to offer. It keeps all updates organized and easy to see when logging in. I also enjoy the customizable layout options, so if the initial layout isn't comfortable it's always open to change. You even have options for the sidebar setup, which we don't usually see in older blogging systems. Looks like Blogger stepped up their game.

Or at least, Google did. I openly groaned when signing up for Blogger, it required the creation of a google account or at least a login for an already existing one. Everywhere I look nowadays, Google is always there invading my life. First YouTube now my schoolwork? You've got to draw the line somewhere, Google guys. Or least Bloomfield High does. Regardless, Blogger doesn't have a tedious sign up process like other sites, which is refreshing. I didn't realistically think it would be easy signing up from my phone, but I was pleasantly surprised. It's straight to the point after you give into Google's corporate insanity.

Now if only it's perks stayed true in the app. Unfortunately (and I do mean this genuinely), Blogger's app is disappointing at best. It's most glaring flaw is the fact that the app clearly hasn't been updated properly. It forces my phone to format into the older iPhone style when I start a post that's not directly through the main menu and even the options look like my phone took a trip to 2008.

And oh boy, don't even get me started with the crashing. It's a ticking time bomb- one wrong click and you have to reset the darn thing or it decides it's going to do it for you.

Another problem is that they took everything simple and charming about the site and threw it all out the window. It's replaced by terribly simplistic commands for the blog you've logged in with and doesn't even let you see the blogs you follow without you going out of your way to find it. There's no organized dashboard, no nice format, and no guarantee any posts you've started will live to see the another hour. Instead you get a silly looking orange main page and very angry mod.

But those are my first impressions of the system itself. Fortunately I'm not here to discuss what Google should be doing with its assets or which blogging sites are superior. After all, the title of this blog isn't 'A Blogger's Struggle with Technology and the Modern World' it's 'Shakespeare and You (Plus Others)'. Complete opposites really. The purpose of this blog is to discuss English assignments and my analysis of them, which in the current case happens to be Shakespeare's The Tragedy of Hamlet, Prince of Denmark (Who I also enjoy calling the Fresh Prince of Bel Air, but we'll get to that later).

To finish up my explanation, I'll be starting each post with the phrase: 'Today's Topic:' followed by the topic of the day. This is probably going to be the only real personal entry I'll have on here- the rest will be analysis on the various literary works we have left for the school year.

-Chrislynn Idis

P.S. - Hi Mom!