Well, last week was emotionally and academically rough, but Friday I got to sleep outside until my toes froze to make up for it. And that last line contains no sarcasm--It was an amazing weekend! Because, my friends, this weekend I got to see David Tennant performing Shakespeare in Stratford-Upon-Avon. Oh, yes! And Patrick Stewart.
We got on the train at 6:36 Friday night, missed our connection, took the next, and arrived in Stratford at 11:00 or so. We got to wait in the lobby of the theatre a short while, but soon we were out under the overhang in front. The tickets for Hamlet were sold out months ago, but they hold 10 for anyone who shows up day of. So, we showed up day before. And sat outside all night.
Some of our number slept, but I couldn't. My feet were cold. Very very cold. I couldn't feel them sometimes. At first they hurt, but at 1:30 in the morning on, I just couldn't feel them. We paced, we ran, we froze and we waited. And I decided I would never let myself get that cold again in my life.
At 6:30 am, the nearby McDonalds opened, and we got tea and coffee to our great delight. The line had lengthened since 4:00 in the morning and we were glad to be as assured of tickets as we were, sitting at the door.
9:30 came, and we bought tickets for both matinee-Love's Labors Lost-and the evening show-Hamlet. Then, we went to a coffee shop and recovered the feelings in our toes. We chatted and slept there until 12:00 when we returned to the theatre for the first show. I changed into my new little black dress, which felt delicate and wondefully feminine after the layers and layers of the previous night's wardrobe.
I had a balcony seat in the front row, which was wonderful. The acting was amazing and the set was fantastic. The costumes were Elizabethean, extravagant, and so, so well suited to the characters. I laughed and had a purely enjoyable time. And as we left, we all agreed that though we had come for Hamlet, Love's Labors Lost alone had been worth the effort.
We had dinner at a pub, then returned to the theatre for Hamlet. We were there early, and did some shopping, but generally anxiously lingered, waiting for the curtain. (Figuratively--there was no literal curtain.) And, then, it began. I started to nod in the first scene when the lights went out. The sleepless night had taken it out of me, but I could not, would not possibly fal asleep at the doorway to wish fulfillment.
How long had I been waiting for this! I found out about this performance in July and have been anxious ever since. And here I was--here I was! Nodding in the first act of the four-hour play. I mentally grabbed myself by the scruff of my neck and shook myself awake. How could I sleep, here?
As soon as Hamlet came onstage, though, I was drawn awake and out of every stupor. The words compelled me to follow and the voice forced me to think. And every class, every reading, every interpretation flitted in and out of my brain. This was Hamlet. David Tennant was Hamlet. Patrick Stewart played a dynamic and suave Claudius and their Gertrude had such a perfect level of melancholy innocence.
But, their Hamlet was the star. They definitely chose the interpretation wherein Hamlet is psychotic. The cutting, the acting, and the costumes all made him undeniably and frightening slip over the edge. Though I don't think this is the only interpretation of the play, you do need to settle on one and go for it. And they did, thereby doing the play justice.
In Love's Labors Lost, Tennant had some soliloquies which were jolly. He had this way of taking up the whole stage though he was all alone and making it seem alive and full. But, in those deathly, gripping Hamlet soliloquies, he physically shrunk and made the space around him vast and empty and cold. All alone in the desperate strates of madness. The breadth of his ability--I could not have slept.
And whether by amazingly employed words or the plight of humanity displayed or the fulfillment of a long dream or the impressive acting ability, and I cried when he spoke his last-
"The rest is silence."
