The most sensational thing about Kenneth Branagh's adaptation of Hamlet is not the play or the actors, but its length. Clocking in at 3:58 (not including intermission) the question moviegoers are asking is this: is Hamlet a a tour de force like Henry V, and worth the effort, or did Branagh's famous ego make him go over-Bard? A bit of both, actually.
The answer though is that Hamlet is a hit. From the opening panoramic shot of Blenheim Castle (standing in for Elsinore) to the invasion by Fortinbras and his Norwegian army, this unabridged Hamlet shot in 70mm Branaghvision is bold, epic and a visual delight.
Until now, all Hamlet screenplays used heavily condensed versions of Shakespeare's play -- his longest and with the most fully written part, Hamlet. For example, Sir Laurence Olivier's 1948 Oscar-winner condensed the opening scenes involving the ghost of Hamlet's father; and Franco Zeffirelli re-ordered whole scenes and redistributed dialogue in his 1990 film starring Mel Gibson.
Nevertheless, as Branagh said, Hamlet does not suffer from abridgement, and he has no objections to the two-hour edited version of his work for those with insufficient stamina. As well, Branagh's faithfulness to Shakespeare's text does not suffer from being moved from mediaeval Denmark to an unspecified 19th-century country complete with period attire. Shakespeare might well approve, since Denmark only stood for generic Northern Europe.
Branagh's Hamlet is inspired work. As Hamlet, Branagh commands the screen, and his energy (as actor and director) keeps us engaged from start to finish. However, what we gain in energy we lose in subtlety, especially in Branagh's interpretations of Hamlet and Polonius.
Usually, Hamlet is played as a vulnerable, introspective youth, brooding over questions of suicide and feigning madness to avenge his father's murder by Hamlet's uncle (Claudius). In contrast, Branagh gives us a bold, masculine, calculating prince, made all the more striking by died blond hair atop (for the most part) an all-black wardrobe. He brings grandeur to the role, especially when delivering the famous soliloquies, but the price of this grandeur is a loss of nuance.
His prince is too confident, too grown-up. There is little sense of the youthful vulnerability that gives plausibility to Hamlet's erratic behavior and feigned madness.
Instead of melancholy, Branagh gives us connivance; instead of madness, sarcasm and anger. He is more Iago here than Hamlet. Ironically, the heroic, expansive grandeur that made Branagh's portrayal of Henry V so moving and magnificent overwhelms and obscures Hamlet's non-heroic, vacillating nature.
A tendency to overplay a role also undermines Richard Briers' Polonius. Branagh and Briers wanted to downplay Polonius's comic side and portray him more seriously, as befitting his station as prime minister. The effort fails. When Polonius delivers his famous platitudes ("Neither a borrower nor a lender be; To thine own self be true," etc.) to his son Laertes (Michael Maloney) on the eve of Laertes' return to Paris, the solemnity in his voice is conspiratorial instead of fatherly. His charge to his servant Reynaldo (Gérard Dépardieu) to watch over Laertes while in Paris sounds almost paranoid. I believe Shakespeare meant Polonius to be a tedious, comic character; why else have him utter banalities and be the butt of Hamlet's jibes?
The rest of the cast, though, is excellent. Derek Jacobi, Julie Christie and Kate Winslet deliver strong performances as Claudius, Gertrude and Ophelia respectively. As King Hamlet's ghost, Brian Blessed is hauntingly effective.
Timothy Spall and Reece Dinsdale are enjoyably clownish as Hamlet's empty-headed school chums Rosencrantz and Guildenstern.
As for the big-name stars in the minor roles, Charlton Heston (Player King) and Billy Crystal (gravedigger) acquit themselves well. Robin Williams is a treat as the obsequious courtier Osric, who referees the duel between Laertes and Hamlet. However, Dépardieu and Jack Lemmon (the guard Marcellus) are painful to endure. Lemmon speaks his lines with the cadence and feeling of Henry Kissinger, and for the most part seems uncomfortable and lost in his role. Dépardieu is similarly robotic, and thankfully has only one scene.
All in all, Branagh's Hamlet is worth seeing for its grandeur and vivacity. This is a movie that will capture the conscience of the audience.