Not Too Shabby

Got a head-start on the weekend with a re-run of the National Theatre production of Hamlet featuring Benedict Cumberbatch in the title role.  (My friend scored tickets to it from relatives who see pretty much everything that comes to NYC; I think it conflicted with their bridge game.)

There were some interesting choices from the very beginning, including the decision to start with Hamlet sitting on the floor going through his father's old record collection rather than, oh say, for example, Francisco and Bernardo on watch, to be joined shortly by Horatio and Marcellus.  We could almost say the production out-Hamleted Hamlet, an impression only bolstered by Hamlet jumping up on banquet tables and whatnot to deliver monologues without anyone else noticing – they were too busy moving in slow motion in the background, apparently.  When he decides to play at being mad, he dresses up as a toy soldier and goes off to play? mope? in a child's toy castle.  

I can't comment on the entire production, since I fell asleep for bits of it, but one artistic choice that really failed for me was the decision to fill the floor of Elsinore castle with ashes or rubble at the end of the first half, and leave it that way for the rest of the show.  It made the place look like a complete wreck, which fatally undercut Ophelia's descent into madness.  It's already difficult for a sturdy young woman to play Ophelia, whose psychological frailty is more plausible on a physically frail frame.  But to have her do this in a castle that seems to have suffered its own devastation seems pointless.  There's no remnant of cleanness and sanity to contrast with her own pathetic state.  

Although it was a nice touch for Gertrude to open up Ophelia's abandoned suitcase, see Ophelia's prized possession (a camera, perhaps in homage to the 2000 Hamlet with Ethan Hawke), realize with horror that Ophelia was headed for her death, and run after her.  This was done silently and effectively – somewhat like the wonderful scene in the first Hobbit movie where Martin Freeman decides to go on the adventure after all, moving from relief at being off the hook to realization of how empty his tidy little life is to a sudden conviction that this is his Chance.  With nothing more than subtle facial expressions, he lets us see that he has chosen to give life a shot, rather than remaining in stultifying stasis and sleepwalking to his grave.  

But I digress.  One other thing worth mentioning from the production: Hamberbatch wears a Bowie t-shirt.  This is important because....

Saturday started with a visit to the Brooklyn Botanic Garden – hope springs eternal for the crocuses – followed by a tour of the Brooklyn Museum with a friend from the Tolkien world.  We cooled our heels at an exhibit of blue stuff, Korean art, and Egyptian artifacts (one take-away: Hieratic is apparently cursive writing for hieroglyphs),  before we gained admittance to ... the David Bowie exhibition!  It was quite interesting and extensive.  I won't say exhaustive, since my friend thought of a few things that were missing, but they were certainly thorough enough to display a tissue purportedly used to wipe the lipstick off Bowie's face after a concert (cf. Weird Al Yankovic's "Ebay").  Bowie's filmography was more extensive than I'd have guessed (it's a lot more than Labyrinth, which I also haven't seen), but we got to see snippets of many of them.  There were abundant costumes and music videos, sketches for publicity, set design, choreography, lots of displays and discussions about his influences and collaborations, and even a concert experience room.    There were many fascinating details, including an almost gushing thank-you letter from his mother for something or other he'd done for her – but in a postscript, she asked him not to show the letter to anyone because she didn't want to be deluged with fan mail!  A woman after my own heart.

But it was also somewhat funny at times to see a pop icon described in museumspeak.  They made a point of mentioning more than once that Bowie remained productive during the worst of his drug addiction (it seemed like the early 1970's in Los Angeles), though they were more than vague about medical details such as how and when he kicked his habit(s).   

There's probably more to say about the exhibition, but I was glad they played "Diamond Dogs" and "Rebel Rebel" while I was in the concert area.


Sunday was productive – I prepared a presentation and slideshow on "King Sheave" and finalized my abstract for Paper 2 just in time for a festive birthday celebration at Kunjip in K-town with some friends.  I'd already celebrated this friend's birthday last weekend with brunch at Maialino near Grammercy Park, but it was great to get together again for Korean barbecue.  We all tried soju, as well, sipping the plain and peach versions from little shot glasses.