Kenneth Branagh's Hamlet is upon us, displacing our very own Mel Gibson as the inky prince of Denmark. For Branagh it's obviously an act of reclamation since his recent girlfriend, Helena Bonham Carter, played Ophelia in the Gibson version. Actors can take that sort of thing quite seriously.
That Hamlet has been the subject of too much waffle is perhaps the only thing one can safely say about it. The trend these days in literature, and in the world at large, is to know more and more about less and less. At the rate we are going, we will soon know everything about nothing at all and Hamlet will almost certainly be the first bit of nothing about which we know everything.
The play has become a peg upon which every worthwhile thinker hangs their sweaty hat at least once. Umberto Eco imagined the tragedy as an FBI investigation in which it is discovered, too late, that Hamlet is the killer. In East, West, Salman Rushdie narrates a much earlier episode in Hamlet's life, in which the infant Ham is responsible for Yorick's death. Rushdie supposes that this murder also took the form of ear-poisoning, only the "poison" in his tale is language: a piece of naughty gossip.
Some connections are harder to make. I don't believe, for example, the rumour that Sylvester Stallone based his interpretation of Rocky on Hamlet without ever reading the play. But one might reasonably ask why Phillip Adams [an Australian radio personality] always wears black and where he gets his endless monophonic mutterances on death?
Once you start mucking around with the basic template of Hamlet, there are infinite possibilities. Imagine a revised, made-for-television drama in which Hamlet and Ophelia get together, Hamlet kills Claudius and just about everyone else, and the Artist Formerly Known As Prince does the soundtrack: 2B or not 2B. Or a version of the play with Paul Keating as Hamlet, Bob Hawke as Claudius, John Hewson as Polonius, "the Australian people" as Gertrude and John Howard as Fortinbras, the triumphant afterthought [these are all Australian politicians].
If I had to add a version to the junk pile, it would be Hamlet performed as therapy. Hamlet's daydream, a dramatic monologue in five acts. The entire tragedy to be seen as the action according to Hamlet, starring Hamlet.
The production begins with Hamlet lying on a leather couch under a single spotlight. In an armchair, his back to the audience, an analyst says, "And the Ghost speaks to you does he? Hmmm, very interesting. Please continue." By following the twists of Hamlet's fantasy, the declarations of his unconscious, it emerges that Claudius is Hamlet's dad, but Hamlet hates him because Gertrude, his mother, doesn't love Hamlet enough. The Ghost is Hamlet's imagined father, sanctioning his hatred of Claudius and displacing his unnatural regard for Gertrude.
Laertes is in fact Hamlet's older brother, the favourite son, and Ophelia's boyfriend. Hamlet has been rebuffed by Ophelia ("My Lord, I have remembrances of yours/that I have longed long to redeliver") but, in his version of events, he dumped her first. Rosencranz and Guildenstern are Laertes's mates and have repeatedly refused to allow the little brother into their gang.
Once upon a time, as a prank, they gummed up Hamlet's flute before he was to perform at court. Polonius is the castle pimp and will not pass girls onto young Hamlet. Stabbing him in the arras is self-explanatory. Fortinbras is the only friend Hamlet ever had and he moved to Poland with his family years ago. Yorick was Hamlet's favourite teddy-bear.
"Excellent, excellent." says the analyst. "I think we're making real progress. See June on your way out, whe'll give you a time for next week."
Better still, perhaps a version with Mark Taylor as Hamlet, Allan Border as the Ghost, the Waugh twins Rosencrantz and Guildenstern and Ian Healy as the Gravedigger [all Australian cricketers].
Or Hamlet as a water ballet. Or a George Lucas version with Han Solo as Hamlet. Luke as Laertes, Leia as Ophelia, Yoda's wing-nut skull as Yorick, Obi Wan as the Ghost and Darth Vader as Claudius. Of course C3PO and R2D2 would play Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, and Chewbacca might have to make do as a hairy Fortinbras.
Well, bring on Branagh. I'm sure his interpretation will fit in somewhere. But four hours of faithfulness to the original text? Ho hum. It will hardly stack up against Hamletanalysis, Hamlet: The Ashes [the trophy England and Australia play for in cricket] and Hamlet in a Galaxy Far, Far Away, but you have to stick with what you know. That's the great thing about Shakespeare - the Bard's big enough for all of us.